#I was never able to find the picture they used of him in the hair ranking video tho??

[lila-lou]

✨The smarter choice - 1/8✨

Summary: The pull was undeniable—every glance, every touch, a spark. Dean was everything you shouldn’t want, yet resistance was futile. Teaser

Pairing: Sam x Reader, Dean x Reader

Warnings: Language

Word Count: 8819

A/N: English isn’t my first language, please be lenient. 💙

The sounds of pots and pans clanking echoed through the kitchen of the bunker as Sam wiped down the countertops, his broad frame moving smoothly through the space. He hadn’t even noticed his older brother lurking nearby—Dean was always the one who loved to poke fun, and today, he was feeling particularly mischievous.

"You sure you want to bring her here, Sammy?", Dean’s voice rang out, teasing but with an edge of curiosity. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching his younger brother intently. "I mean, the bunker’s great and all, but it’s not exactly a romantic getaway".

Sam didn’t miss a beat. He was used to his brother’s banter, though that didn’t mean it didn’t annoy him. "Dean, we’ve been over this. She’s not like—".

"Not like who, Sam?", Dean interrupted, smirking. "She’s not a hunter like us, right? Just a normal girl, who doesn’t actually know what she’s getting herself into?".

Sam shot Dean a glare, knowing exactly where this conversation was headed. "She knows. I’ve told her everything. She’s not freaked out".

Dean raised an eyebrow, his smirk turning into a grin. "Oh yeah? You sure about that? You sure she’ll be able to handle—", he motioned vaguely with his hand, clearly meaning the life they led—"all this? The monsters, the blood, the nightmares?".

Sam was about to respond when he heard the familiar buzz of his phone from the counter. He quickly wiped his hands on a towel and checked the screen.

It was you.

"Hey, I’m on my way. Should be there in 20. See you soon :)".

Sam smiled softly at the message, his heart warming, and that didn’t go unnoticed by Dean, who suddenly took a step closer, narrowing his eyes.

"See, now that’s what I’m talking about", Dean said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "The great Sammy Winchester, the smooth talker. Getting some girl to text you emojis and all. You sure you're ready for her to meet this version of the family?".

Sam rolled his eyes, trying to hide his smile. He wasn’t embarrassed by his brother’s antics—well, not totally—but he was more concerned about how you’d react to it all. You’d been really understanding about the supernatural stuff, but Sam knew meeting Dean was a different matter.

"I’m serious, Dean. She’s not like other people. She’s not going to freak out". Sam looked at Dean with a raised brow, as if daring him to argue.

Dean chuckled, his arms uncrossing as he pushed off the doorframe. "Yeah, we’ll see. It’s just… funny to me. You spent four weeks talking about her and now—", he grinned, "now I get to meet her. What’s she like? You know, aside from being really into you?".

Sam sighed, running a hand through his hair. "You’ll find out in twenty minutes, won’t you?".

Dean smirked and shrugged. "Guess I will".

Sam turned his attention back to the counter, his heart still thumping with the excitement of seeing you. He really did want you to meet his brother. He had been so careful about introducing you to this world, and now, with you so close, he hoped you wouldn’t be overwhelmed.

But deep down, Sam knew the biggest challenge wasn’t the monsters or the blood—no, it was whether or not Dean would scare you off. That was always a risk when it came to Dean.

Dean’s grin widened as he leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms. His gaze shifted to Sam, that playful glint never leaving his eyes.

“But give me something Sammy”, Dean began. “She probably a little nerdy, huh? You know, like you”. He snorted, clearly amused by his own joke. “I’m picturing a cute, bookish type, glasses the size of saucers, maybe even a ponytail, and some kind of vintage sweater”.

Sam rolled his eyes, trying his best to stay patient with his older brother’s antics. “Dean, you’re not even close”.

Dean raised an eyebrow, glancing at his brother’s expression, which was somewhere between fond and embarrassed. “Oh, I know I’m close. You’re basically saying you’re dating a female version of yourself, right? So… same height, same awkwardness, same love for dusty old books, and all the same nerdy stuff that makes you… well, you”. Dean made exaggerated air quotes with his fingers. “You’re probably gonna end up sitting in a corner, playing board games, or—God forbid—watching documentaries together, right?”.

Sam sighed, fighting a smile. “She’s not like that, Dean. She’s…”. He paused, trying to find the words. You were a bit of a nerd—he loved that about you—but there was a lot more to you than that.

Dean was still going strong. “Yeah, yeah. I bet she doesn’t even know what a real hunter is. Probably thinks all this is just some Halloween stuff, huh? Well, good luck with that”. He laughed at his own words, clearly enjoying every second of getting under his brother’s skin. “Can you imagine it, Sammy? You, with your little nerdy girlfriend, sitting there, all cute, surrounded by textbooks and… and cats. So many cats”.

Sam shot him a glare, but it was impossible to hide his amusement completely. “You’re ridiculous”.

“Just tell me one thing. She tall? You know, like… as tall as you?”. He raised an eyebrow, clearly enjoying getting under Sam’s skin, the older brother’s usual role. “Or is she one of those tiny, cute types you can just—”.

Before Sam could answer, his phone buzzed, cutting him off. His thumb quickly tapped on the message, and he read your text aloud, clearly amused.

“I’ve knocked like five times, Sam. Are you ever going to open the door?”.

Dean’s grin only widened as Sam read your message aloud, his voice carrying a trace of amusement. Dean, of course, wasn’t about to let up. “Guess she’s not the patient type, huh?”, he teased, leaning a little further into his brother’s space. “Maybe you’ve got yourself a little firecracker, Sammy. Or a tall one”.

Sam rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t hide the smile creeping up at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah, she’s a bit of a handful sometimes”.

Dean leaned in, his voice taking on a more exaggerated tone. “A handful, huh? What, like a tiny, cute handful with her oversized glasses and a love for knitting?”. He chuckled, clearly relishing the thought of you fitting the quirky, innocent image he had concocted.

Sam was about to retort when his phone buzzed again. He quickly glanced down at it, his heart skipping a beat as he saw your name flashing on the screen once more.

“Sam, are you seriously just gonna leave me out here? Open the door!”.

Sam couldn’t hold back his laughter now. “Alright, alright”, he muttered to himself as he pushed off the counter and made his way toward the door, shooting Dean a look over his shoulder. “You’re ridiculous. Just wait and see”.

Dean was unbothered by the warning, following his brother with his eyes.

Sam ignored him and reached for the door, his excitement growing. He finally swung it open to reveal you standing outside, your hand raised in the air as if ready to knock once more.

You looked up at him, the tiniest hint of impatience in your eyes. “You know, I was starting to think you were ghosting me, Sam”, you teased, a playful smirk curling at the corners of your lips.

Sam stepped aside quickly, scratching the back of his neck with an apologetic smile. “Sorry about that. Dean was…”. He glanced back toward the kitchen, choosing his words carefully. “…distracting me”.

You shook your head, brushing it off with a soft laugh. “It’s fine. But seriously, don’t keep me waiting next time. I was starting to feel like a door-to-door salesperson”.

Sam chuckled, gesturing for you to step inside. As you walked past him and into the bunker, you couldn’t help but glance at cavernous walls. The space felt huge, even more so because of your height. Not even reaching Sam’s chest, the bunker seemed almost overwhelming. Still, you moved forward with confidence, curiosity lighting up your features as you carefully stepped down the metal stairs.

“Whoa”, you said, pausing for a moment to glance back at Sam. “This place is… something else”.

Sam smiled, pleased by your reaction. “Yeah, it’s a bit much at first, but you get used to it”.

As your feet touched the ground, you ran your fingers along the edge of the war room table, taking in the ancient, heavy atmosphere of the place. Just as you were about to comment on it, the sound of footsteps echoed from around the corner.

Dean appeared, beer in hand, his usual cocky grin plastered on his face. “Well, well”, he said, his voice light and teasing as he approached. “What do we have here?”.

But the second his eyes landed on you, something in him shifted.

You turned to face him, and for a moment, Dean simply stared. He hadn’t been expecting someone like you—not even close. You were small, barely coming up to his chest, and the contrast between your petite frame and your confident presence was magnetic. The high-waisted jean shorts you wore showed off your curves in a way that made his throat go dry, and the fitted top you paired them with hinted just enough at your gorgeous figure.

Dean’s brain went blank for a split second.

“Uh…”, he started, his usual charm stuttering as he tried to find words. “You’re… uh… not what I expected”.

Sam cleared his throat, stepping forward and giving Dean a pointed look. “Dean”.

“What?”, Dean shot back, still unable to tear his gaze away from you. He gestured vaguely with his beer. “She’s definitely not nerdy”.

You raised an eyebrow, clearly amused as you crossed your arms and looked up at him. The size difference was almost comical, but you didn’t seem the least bit fazed. “And what exactly did you expect?”. There was a playful edge to your tone, but something in the way you held his gaze sent a strange jolt through Dean’s chest.

Dean blinked, quickly scrambling to recover. He leaned casually against the wall, lifting his beer to his lips. “I don’t know. Glasses, books, maybe a little cardigan or something”. He smirked, though it wasn’t quite as sharp as usual. “I mean, you’re dating Sam”.

Sam groaned softly, running a hand down his face. “Dean—”.

You cut him off, your smirk widening as you tilted your head. “Sorry to disappoint”, you said, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “No glasses. And I left my cardigan at home”.

Dean chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, I can see that”. He took another swig of his beer, though it did little to cool the sudden warmth spreading through him.

Sam stepped in then, clearly eager to move things along before Dean could dig himself deeper into the hole he was making. “Alright, let’s sit down. Y/N’s probably hungry”.

“Hungry? Or thirsty?”, Dean quipped, holding up his beer. “I mean, I could—”.

“Dean”, Sam interrupted sharply, shooting him another warning glare.

Dean held up his free hand in mock surrender. “Alright, alright. Food it is”. But as he turned to follow Sam toward the kitchen, he couldn’t help but glance back at you one more time.

You caught him looking, your lips curving into a small smile that sent his pulse racing.

What the hell is happening? Dean thought as he dragged his eyes away.

For all the teasing he’d thrown Sam’s way, he wasn’t prepared for this. You weren’t nerdy, awkward, or shy. You were gorgeous, confident, and way more than Dean had been ready for.

And something told him this was just the beginning.

The sound of your light footsteps on the bunker’s floors seemed to echo louder than they should have, or maybe that was just Dean’s heightened awareness of your presence. He tried to shake it off, forcing his thoughts back into his usual easygoing rhythm.

“So”, Dean began, his tone casual as his eyes flicked between you and Sam. “Sammy here been bragging about his cooking skills yet?”.

Sam sighed, already sensing where this was going. “Dean—”.

“Oh, come on”, Dean pressed, walking a little faster so he could fall into step next to you. He gave you one of his signature grins, the one that usually worked wonders on just about anyone. “He didn’t warn you that his idea of fine dining is throwing together a salad and calling it a meal?”.

You glanced up at Dean, amused by the way he towered over you. “Actually”, you said, your voice laced with playful curiosity, “he told me he made something special tonight”.

Dean arched an eyebrow, glancing toward Sam as they all entered the kitchen. “Special, huh?”. His eyes darted to the oven, catching sight of the lasagna baking inside. The smell was already wafting through the room, rich and savory, instantly recognizable.

“Lasagna?”, Dean asked, surprised despite himself. He leaned back against the counter, folding his arms across his chest as he turned his attention to Sam.

Sam ignored the jab, moving to check on the lasagna. “Figured you’d be less… disruptive if I made something you liked”, he said, adjusting the oven temperature and glancing at his watch to time it perfectly.

Dean smirked, picking up on Sam’s strategy immediately. “Oh, I see what this is. You’re trying to keep me quiet. Feed me comfort food, and I’ll behave, is that it?”.

Sam didn’t answer, which was all the confirmation Dean needed.

You laughed softly, leaning against the counter opposite Dean. “So lasagna’s your weak spot, huh?”, you teased, your tone light but curious.

Dean turned his grin back to you, his green eyes narrowing slightly in playful suspicion. “Depends”, he said, dragging out the word. “You any good in the kitchen? Or are you more the ‘microwave and hope for the best’ type?”.

You tilted your head, meeting his gaze with an amused smirk. “I can hold my own”, you replied, not missing a beat. “But if I’d known I’d be competing with this”, —you gestured toward the oven— “I’d have brought something to prove it”.

Dean chuckled, impressed despite himself. “Well, that just means you’ll have to stick around long enough to show us, huh?”.

Sam gave Dean a pointed look as he turned from the oven to grab plates and utensils. “Dean, maybe try not to scare her off within the first ten minutes”.

Dean held up his hands in mock surrender. “I’m just being friendly, Sammy”. He turned his attention back to you, his grin softening into something a little more genuine. “I’m not that scary, am I?”.

You laughed again, shaking your head. “Not yet”, you replied, enjoying the banter. “But I’ll let you know if that changes”.

Sam rolled his eyes, setting the plates down on the counter with a little more force than necessary. “Alright, dinner’s almost ready. Can we all just… focus on eating like normal people?”,

Dean gave you a conspiratorial wink before turning his attention back to Sam. “You’re the one making the rules, chef”.

You caught the dynamic between them easily—Dean’s teasing, Sam’s patient exasperation. It was clear they had their differences, but there was no denying the bond between the two brothers. And as Dean reached for another nearby bottle of beer, cracking it open with ease, you found yourself wondering just how much of Dean’s charm was a front, and how much of it was the real him.

The next few minutes passed smoothly—or as smoothly as they could with Dean in the mix. As Sam checked on the lasagna one last time, you busied yourself helping him set the table. You grabbed utensils and napkins from the counter, moving around the space with ease as though you’d been in the bunker a dozen times before.

Dean, leaning against the counter with his beer, watched you with casual interest. “So, Y/N”, he started, his tone light, “if you’re not a hunter, how’d you end up with my nerdy little brother here?”.

You glanced up at him, amused by his bluntness. “We met at a bookstore, actually”, you replied, placing the last fork down. “I was looking for a gift for a friend, and Sam swooped in to save me from picking the world’s most boring biography”.

Dean snorted. “Of course he did. Let me guess, he probably gave you some twenty-minute lecture on obscure historical facts before you even realized he was flirting”.

You smirked, shooting Sam a playful look as he turned back from the oven. “It was more like fifteen minutes”, you said with a shrug. “But to be fair, he was right. The book I was about to buy sounded awful”.

Sam sighed, shaking his head but smiling all the same. “I wasn’t trying to lecture. I was just being helpful”.

“Sure you were”, Dean shot back, his grin widening. “Bet you even pulled the puppy-dog eyes, didn’t you?”.

You laughed, the sound light and genuine, and it made Dean’s chest tighten in a way he hadn’t expected. He wasn’t sure if it was the way you seemed so at ease around them, or the way your laugh lit up the room, but something about you had him hooked.

“Sam’s told you about… you know, all the crazy crap we deal with, right?”, Dean said, changing the subject as he leaned in slightly,

You nodded, your expression growing a little more serious. “Yeah. He’s been easing me into it. It’s… a lot, but I’m getting there”.

Dean raised an eyebrow, impressed. “And you’re not freaking out? Most people would’ve run for the hills the second they heard the words ‘demonic possession’”.

You shrugged, a small smile tugging at your lips. “It’s a lot to take in, sure, but Sam’s been really patient about explaining things. And honestly? I think what you guys do is incredible. It’s scary, yeah, but also… kind of amazing”.

Dean blinked, caught off guard by your sincerity. He wasn’t used to hearing people talk about their work like that, especially not people who weren’t hunters themselves. “Huh”, he said after a moment, a crooked grin forming on his face. “You might be tougher than you look, short stuff”.

The nickname made you laugh again, and you couldn’t help but shoot back, “Careful, Dean. I may be small, but I can hold my own”.

“Oh, I don’t doubt that”, Dean said smoothly, his grin turning slightly mischievous. “Bet you’ve got a hell of a right hook for someone your size”.

“Maybe”, you replied, a playful glint in your eye. “But you’ll just have to take my word for it”.

Sam cleared his throat loudly, clearly trying to steer the conversation away from where he knew it was headed. “Dean, maybe stop interrogating her and let her breathe for a second”.

Dean waved him off, his attention still fixed on you. “Relax, Sammy. We’re just getting to know each other”, He leaned back slightly, his tone turning more casual. “You got a day job, or are you just spending all your free time keeping this guy out of trouble?”.

You smiled at Dean, enjoying the banter. “Actually, I’m a fitness coach”, you said, leaning casually against the counter.

Dean’s eyebrows shot up, his grin widening. “A fitness coach?”, he repeated, his tone equal parts impressed and intrigued. “Didn’t see that one coming”.

You laughed softly, folding your arms as you looked up at him. “Why’s that? You don’t think I could handle it?”.

Dean tilted his head, giving you a quick once-over, and while his expression remained playful, there was a genuine curiosity in his eyes. “Oh, I think you could handle it just fine”, he said. “But man, Sammy must have his hands full. What, you got him running laps between cases now?”.

Sam sighed, clearly trying to stay out of the conversation, but you were quick to play along. “Not yet”, you said, shooting Sam a teasing look. “But I’m thinking about it. He could probably use the cardio”.

Dean barked out a laugh, his head tilting back slightly. “Oh, I like you”, he said, pointing at you with his beer. “You’re a smartass. Sam needs more of that in his life”.

You grinned at Dean’s comment, enjoying the playful energy in the room. “Oh, trust me, he gets plenty of sass from me”, you said with a smirk. Turning to Sam, who had been quietly tolerating Dean’s antics, you reached up and pressed a quick kiss to his bicep—the highest point you could easily reach without him bending down.

“Just kidding”, you mumbled teasingly as Sam gave you a soft, amused smile. He leaned down slightly, brushing a kiss against your forehead in return, his hand grazing the small of your back as he murmured, “Thanks for putting up with him”.

You laughed softly, shaking your head as you grabbed the last glass and placed it on the table. “I think I’m handling it just fine”.

Dean bit the inside of his cheek as he watched the two of you, the ease of your affection and the way Sam looked at you. There was something about the way you and Sam moved together—comfortably, naturally, like you’d been part of this world for longer than the few weeks you’d actually been dating—that made something twist uncomfortably in Dean’s chest.

Dean took another sip of his beer, the cool bitterness doing little to chase away the nagging feeling in his chest. He leaned back against the counter, his posture relaxed, but his jaw tightened subtly as he watched you and Sam. There was something about the way Sam looked at you—like you were the only person in the room—that made Dean’s stomach twist uncomfortably.

Not that he’d ever admit it. Hell, he barely even admitted it to himself.

It wasn’t like he was jealous. Dean Winchester didn’t do jealousy. No, this was just… him being protective. Yeah, that was it. He was just making sure you were really who Sam thought you were. Making sure Sam wasn’t setting himself up for another heartbreak. It had nothing to do with the way you smiled when you looked up at Sam, or the way your laugh seemed to linger in the air, soft and warm.

Dean cleared his throat, forcing his gaze away from you. He focused instead on the beer bottle in his hand, rolling it between his fingers. “How long until dinner’s ready, Sammy? I’m starving over here”.

Sam shot him a glance, clearly catching the faint edge in Dean’s tone. “It’s almost done”, he said, moving to check on the lasagna. “You can survive a few more minutes”.

Dean smirked, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah, well, good thing you went all out. I wouldn’t survive another night of your rabbit food experiments”.

You laughed, the sound light and genuine, and it made Dean glance up despite himself. “Rabbit food?”, you teased, looking between the brothers. “That´s about your love for salad?”.

Sam sighed, shooting Dean an exasperated look. “He’s talking about the one time I made a salad with kale”.

“It wasn’t a salad”, Dean shot back, pointing at Sam with his beer. “It was punishment. Nobody eats kale by choice”.

You chuckled, shaking your head. “Well, I guess it’s a good thing I didn’t bring a kale smoothie, huh?”.

Dean couldn’t help the small grin that tugged at his lips. “You’d better not. I’d kick you out on principle”.

Sam rolled his eyes but didn’t say anything, busying himself with pulling the lasagna out of the oven.

Dean’s eyes lingered on you for a moment longer than he intended, and he had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep himself grounded. He wasn’t jealous. He was just… protective. Yeah, that was the story he was sticking to.

Dean watched you as you moved around the kitchen, effortlessly fitting into the bunker like you’d always been there. It was unsettling how natural it all seemed. His eyes followed you, and he took another sip of his beer, determined to shake whatever it was that had him so off balance.

But then you leaned over toward him, close enough that he caught the faint scent of whatever perfume you were wearing. Your thigh brushed against his, the contact sending a jolt of heat up his leg. Before he could react, you tilted your head slightly, looking up at him with a mischievous glint in your eye.

“I fucking hate kale”, you whispered, your voice low enough that Sam couldn’t hear, but there was no mistaking the teasing lilt in your tone.

Dean froze for a second, his brain short-circuiting as he tried to process the sudden proximity, the soft warmth of your leg against his, and the quiet intimacy of your words. Then, almost involuntarily, a grin broke across his face, quick and genuine.

“Good”, he murmured back, his voice equally low. “Means I don’t have to kick you out after all”.

You laughed quietly, the sound sending a ripple of something warm and unfamiliar through him. Dean blinked, his grin fading slightly as he tried to steady himself. He cleared his throat, shifting slightly as he sat down at the table. He told himself it was nothing—just the heat of the moment, the way your laugh had hit him, or the accidental brush of your thigh. It didn’t mean anything. He could shake this off, no problem.

Except it wasn’t nothing. Not with the faint trace of your perfume still lingering in the air or the way your mischievous smirk had seemed to sear itself into his brain. Dean shifted again, leaning forward slightly in his chair to subtly adjust himself under the table, hoping like hell neither you nor Sam noticed.

Sam, thankfully oblivious, placed a plate in front of Dean and another in front of himself before sitting down next to you. “Alright, dig in”, he said, shooting you a small smile. “Let me know what you think”.

You grabbed your fork, glancing at Sam with a grin. “No pressure, right?”.

Dean snorted, hoping to distract himself from his predicament. “Trust me, you don’t need to worry. This is probably the best thing Sammy’s ever made. Not that the competition’s stiff or anything”.

Sam shot Dean a dry look, but you laughed, your shoulders shaking slightly. The sound sent another ripple of heat through Dean’s chest, and he focused hard on cutting into his lasagna, the knife scraping against the plate.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence”, Sam said sarcastically, turning his attention back to you. “I’m glad someone appreciates the effort”.

“I think it’s great”, you said after taking a bite. “Seriously, Sam. This is amazing”.

Dean grunted in agreement, though his focus was less on the food and more on keeping his gaze off you. The way you leaned forward slightly when you laughed, the way your lips curved around your fork—it was too much, and he knew if he let himself keep staring, he was going to lose whatever shred of composure he had left.

“So, Y/N”, Dean said, forcing himself to speak, his tone casual as he leaned back slightly in his chair, “You like it?”. He gestured vaguely around the bunker, doing his best to sound normal despite the tension knotting his shoulders. “I mean, it’s not exactly… cozy”.

You glanced up at him, your eyes warm. “It’s definitely different”, you admitted. “But honestly? I think it’s kind of cool. It’s like something out of a movie”.

Dean smirked, though he avoided looking directly at you for too long. “Yeah, well, wait until the pipes start rattling in the middle of the night. Real cinematic experience”.

Sam rolled his eyes. “Ignore him. He just hates doing maintenance”.

You laughed again, and Dean felt his resolve waver. He grabbed his beer, downing half of it in one go just to have something to do with his hands.

The meal continued, with Sam and you trading stories while Dean chimed in occasionally, mostly to toss in a sarcastic comment or crack a joke. But the whole time, that nagging feeling sat heavy in his chest, and he couldn’t shake the heat pooling low in his stomach.

It was going to be a long night.

The meal wrapped up smoothly, though Dean spent most of it trying to keep his focus on his lasagna. By the time the dishes were done, Sam had his sleeves rolled up, his hands wet from drying the last plate, and you were leaning against the counter, chatting idly with him about your plans for the next day.

Dean lingered nearby, his fifth beer in hand, trying to keep his eyes anywhere but on you.

Finally, as Sam dried his hands and set the dish towel aside, he stepped close to you, his palm brushing down the small of your back in a way that seemed almost instinctive. “Ready to call it a night?”, he asked gently, his voice low, the kind of tone that was meant just for you.

You glanced up at him, reading the softness in his eyes. Sam wasn’t one for late nights, not unless a hunt demanded it. His mornings usually started early with a run or a workout, and you knew he valued his sleep schedule more than most.

But you? You weren’t tired at all. You were used to staying up late, whether it was working on plans for your clients or just relaxing with a spicy book or a show.

Still, you smiled at Sam, your hand brushing his briefly. “Sure”, you said lightly. “If you’re ready, we can head to bed”.

Dean, who had been pretending to check the contents of the fridge for the last few minutes, glanced over at the exchange. Something about the way Sam’s hand stayed at the small of your back made his jaw tighten again, though he quickly covered it with a casual tone. “Wow, Sammy, calling it a night already? It’s barely nine. You getting old or what?”.

Sam shot Dean a look, but there was no real annoyance in it. “Some of us actually like starting the day early”, he said, his hand still resting gently on you. “Not all of us are night owls”.

Dean smirked, leaning back against the counter with his beer. “Night owl? Please. I’m just making sure the world doesn’t fall apart while you’re catching your beauty sleep”.

You laughed softly at that, glancing between the brothers. “So what, Dean? You stay up all night patrolling the bunker or something?”.

Dean’s grin widened, his eyes flicking to yours with a spark of mischief. “Something like that”, he said, his tone easy. “Someone’s gotta keep an eye on things around here”.

Sam chuckled, shaking his head. “Ignore him. He just watches bad movies and eats junk food when he should be sleeping”.

“Hey, classics aren’t bad movies”, Dean shot back, pointing his beer bottle at Sam. “And nachos at midnight? That’s living, Sammy”.

You grinned, folding your arms. “I think I’m with Dean on this one. Nachos at midnight sounds way more fun than an early morning run”.

Dean’s smirk turned into a full grin at your response, his eyes glinting as he looked over at you. “Finally, someone around here with taste”.

Sam rolled his eyes at your comment, though there was no mistaking the fond smile tugging at his lips. “Alright, you two can bond over junk food another time”, he said, his hand brushing gently against your back again. “I’ll leave you to it, Dean”.

You glanced back at Dean, your smile softening as your eyes met his. “It was nice meeting you, Dean”, you said warmly, your voice genuine. “I can see where Sam gets his sense of humor now”.

Dean blinked, caught off guard by the way your words—and that smile—made his heart skip a beat. He forced a grin, though it felt a little stiff. “Yeah, you too”, he said, his voice a bit quieter than usual. He gave a small nod, his gaze lingering on you for a second longer than he intended. “Goodnight, short stuff”.

You chuckled softly at the nickname, turning back to Sam as he led you toward the hallway. Dean stayed rooted in place, leaning back against the counter with his beer as he watched the two of you disappear from sight. The sound of your voices—low and comfortable—faded as you headed down the hall.

For a long moment, Dean just stood there, staring at the empty space where you’d been. He let out a long breath, running a hand over his face before muttering under his breath, “What the hell, Winchester?”.

He downed the rest of his beer in one swig, the bottle clinking softly against the counter as he set it down. Shaking his head, Dean turned back toward the fridge, already looking for something to distract himself from the way his heart had stubbornly refused to settle all evening.

But the image of your smile—soft, genuine, and directed at him—lingered, refusing to fade. And no amount of nachos or bad movies was going to fix that.

Inside Sam’s room, you looked around, taking in the neat, utilitarian setup. It wasn’t anything fancy, but it had a certain comfort to it that matched Sam’s personality. The shelves lined with books, the neatly folded bedding, and even the scent of him lingering in the air—it all felt cozy and inviting.

Sam moved across the room, opening one of the drawers and pulling out a simple white shirt. He handed it to you with a soft smile. “Here”, he said, his voice low and gentle. “This should be comfortable for the night”.

You took the shirt, your fingers brushing his briefly as you gave him a small smile. “Thanks”, you said, though there was a slight edge to your voice that you hoped he didn’t pick up on. You’d been dating for weeks now, and while things between you and Sam were great, there was a tension simmering under the surface that you couldn’t ignore.

Sam hadn’t made a move to take things further, not once. No matter how many nights you spent together, how much time you spent in his arms, he never seemed to push for more than kissing and light touches. It wasn’t that you didn’t respect his pace; you did. But you were only human, and lately, the frustration had started to build.

And tonight? Tonight was unbearable. You couldn’t explain it—maybe it was the lingering energy from dinner, the way Dean had looked at you with that mischievous grin, or the way Sam’s hand kept brushing against the small of your back. Whatever it was, it had you wound tighter than a spring, and your body was practically humming with need.

You turned away from Sam as you began to undress, your fingers deftly unbuttoning your pants and sliding them down your legs. You tried to ignore the heat rising to your cheeks, aware of Sam sitting quietly behind you, his presence filling the room. The air felt heavier than usual, like a current of unspoken tension buzzed between you.

You slipped off your top next, leaving your bare skin exposed for a moment. You weren’t wearing a bra—something you’d normally think nothing of, but tonight, it felt impossible to ignore. The cool air brushed over your skin as you reached for the oversized white shirt Sam had given you, the fabric soft in your hands.

Pulling it over your head, you let the material fall into place. It was so big on you that it nearly reached your knees, the hem swaying slightly as you moved. The sleeves hung past your wrists, making it look more like a dress than a shirt, and you couldn’t help but glance down at yourself, a small, amused smile tugging at your lips.

When you finally turned back around, Sam was already in bed, propped up against the pillows with a book in his hands. His eyes flicked up as you moved, and for a brief moment, you caught something in his expression—a flicker of something deeper, something that made your pulse quicken—but it was gone as quickly as it came.

“You good?”, he asked, his voice soft as he closed the book and set it on the nightstand.

You nodded, climbing into bed beside him and pulling the covers up to your lap. “Yeah”, you said quietly, though your voice felt strained. You couldn’t shake the awareness of him next to you, the way his broad shoulders stretched the fabric of his shirt, or the warmth of his body so close to yours.

He reached over to turn off the bedside lamp, plunging the room into. As he settled back into the pillows, you found yourself lying rigidly on your side, staring into the darkness and trying to will away the storm of frustration building inside you.

The shirt you wore smelled like Sam, wrapping you in his familiar, comforting scent, but it only made things worse. Your body was on fire, and every little movement—his hand brushing the covers, the sound of his breathing, the shift of the mattress as he adjusted his position—felt like a spark igniting something deeper within you.

You squeezed your eyes shut, biting your lip as you tried to focus on anything but the ache that had settled low in your stomach. Sam’s steady, calming presence had always been enough to soothe you, but tonight, it wasn’t working.

And the worst part? You had no idea what to do about it.

Meanwhile, in the war room, Dean sat slouched at the map table, his boots propped up on the edge as he cradled a large glass of whiskey in one hand. The amber liquid caught the dim light, casting faint shadows that danced on the tabletop. He swirled the drink absentmindedly, staring into the space ahead of him but seeing nothing—nothing except you.

He let out a heavy sigh, bringing the glass to his lips and taking a long sip. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t shake the image of you leaning toward him in the kitchen, your thigh brushing his, the warmth of your breath on his skin as you whispered, I fucking hate kale.

It wasn’t just that, though. It was everything—the way you moved, the sound of your laughter, the way you fit so effortlessly into the space that had always felt so cold and utilitarian. And, of course, the way you looked at Sam, the softness in your eyes that made it so damn clear how much you cared about his brother.

Dean scowled at the thought, tipping back his glass and draining the rest of the whiskey in one go. He set the glass down with a muted thud, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. His jaw tightened as he scrubbed a hand down his face, trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with him.

It’s nothing, he told himself. Just a little admiration. She’s cool, that’s all.

But the ache in his chest said otherwise.

The thought of you in Sam’s room, wrapped in his arms, made Dean’s stomach twist in a way that felt uncomfortably close to jealousy. He clenched his fists, shaking his head as though he could physically dislodge the thought from his brain.

“This is ridiculous”, he muttered under his breath, reaching for the whiskey bottle and pouring himself another glass. He stared at the amber liquid for a moment before taking another sip, the burn doing little to drown out the frustration bubbling inside him.

He didn’t get it. You were with Sam—his brother. You were off-limits, plain and simple. And yet, there was something about you that felt like a punch to the gut every time you smiled.

Dean huffed, leaning back in his chair and staring at the ceiling. The faint creak of the bunker’s pipes echoed in the distance, a reminder of how quiet and empty the place felt most of the time.

But you’d brought a kind of energy into the bunker that Dean hadn’t realized he’d been missing. And it was driving him insane.

Dean drained the second glass of whiskey, letting the burn spread through his chest as he leaned forward again, resting his elbows on the table. His gaze drifted to the door that led to the hallway.

“Get a grip, Winchester”, he muttered to himself, shaking his head again. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t stop thinking about you.

Dean’s head snapped up at the sound of footsteps entering the war room. His first instinct was to expect Sam, coming to lecture him about something—or maybe just checking on him—but when he turned, he froze.

It was you.

You stood in the doorway, looking a little out of place, your bare feet pressing softly against the cold floor. Your hands fidgeted at your sides as you tugged your hair behind your ear, mumbling, “Sorry, I was just looking for the bathroom. Didn’t mean to interrupt”.

Dean’s gaze lingered, the whiskey in his hand forgotten as his eyes took you in. You were wearing Sam’s oversized white shirt, and on your smaller frame, it hung loosely, nearly brushing your knees. But the cool air of the bunker seemed to cling to you, and he couldn’t help but notice how the faint chill had tightened your nipples against the fabric of the shirt.

He forced his gaze back to your face, his throat tightening. “Uh… yeah”, he said, clearing his throat and sitting up straighter. “Bathroom’s down the hall, second door on the left”.

You gave him a small smile, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “Thanks”, you murmured, your voice soft. But instead of immediately leaving, your eyes flicked to the map table, then to the glass of whiskey in front of him.

Dean followed your gaze to the glass of whiskey in front of him, his lips curving into a slow, teasing smirk. He leaned back in his chair, his green eyes flicking back to yours as he lifted the glass in a mock toast.

“Don’t tell me you’re a whiskey girl”, he said, his voice light but carrying that unmistakable edge of mischief.

You shrugged, the corner of your mouth lifting into a small smile as you stepped further into the room, your bare feet making the faintest sound against the cold tiles. “Maybe I am”, you replied, your voice soft but with just enough challenge to make his smirk widen. “What’s wrong with whiskey?”.

Dean chuckled, swirling the liquid in his glass. “Nothing”, he said, his tone teasing. “Just didn’t expect it. I mean, you’re walking around in Sam’s shirt, looking all cute and innocent, and here you are, eyeing my drink like you’re ready to steal it”.

Your cheeks warmed at his words, but you refused to let him fluster you. Crossing your arms, you leaned slightly against the edge of the map table, meeting his gaze head-on. “Maybe I was just wondering why you’re sitting here all alone in the middle of the night”, you shot back. “Doesn’t seem like your usual scene”.

Dean raised an eyebrow, impressed by your quick comeback. “Huh”, he muttered, setting his glass down with a soft clink. “What about you? Thought you’d be in bed, snug as a bug with Sammy by now”.

You hesitated, glancing toward the hallway before looking back at him. “I couldn’t sleep”, you admitted, your voice quieter now.

Dean tilted his head, his smirk softening into something closer to genuine curiosity. “And you ended up here, instead of the bathroom”, he said, gesturing around the room. “Lucky me”.

You laughed lightly, tucking your hair behind your ear again as you glanced at the map table. “I guess so”, you said, your smile lingering as your eyes returned to his. “But seriously… is whiskey your midnight snack now, or what?”.

Dean chuckled, reaching for the bottle and pouring a small amount into the empty glass beside him. He slid it toward you, his smirk returning. “Why don’t you find out?”.

You glanced at the glass, then back at him, your brow lifting slightly. “Is this how you get all your guests to stay up late with you?”, you teased, taking the glass in your hand.

Dean leaned back in his chair, watching as you reached for the glass. His lips parted slightly, and without even thinking, his tongue darted out to wet them, a habit he couldn’t seem to shake whenever his nerves got the better of him—or when his thoughts strayed somewhere they shouldn’t.

His gaze flicked downward, almost involuntarily, landing on the curve of your chest beneath Sam’s oversized shirt. The fabric shifted slightly as you raised the glass to your lips, the movement drawing his attention like a magnet.

Dean’s eyes lingered for a second too long, his grip tightening around his own glass as he caught himself staring. He clenched his jaw, forcing his gaze back up to your face. You didn’t seem to notice—or maybe you did, and you were just too good at hiding it. Either way, it only made the tension in the room thicker, more suffocating.

You set the glass down. “What?”, you asked, your voice casual but with a glint of curiosity. “You’ve been quiet all of a sudden. Did I say something wrong?”.

Dean smirked, trying to mask the heat crawling up his neck. “Nah”, he said, leaning back again and taking another sip of whiskey. “Just thinking”.

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “About?”.

He hesitated, the weight of his thoughts pressing down on him. He wanted to say something cocky, to deflect like he always did, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, he shrugged, his voice dropping slightly. “About how you’re a hell of a lot more interesting than I gave you credit for”.

Your eyes widened slightly, the soft flush in your cheeks deepening as you let out a quiet laugh. “Well, I’ll take that as a compliment”, you said, your tone light but tinged with something warmer.

Dean tilted his head, his smirk softening. “You should”.

The silence that followed wasn’t awkward—it was charged, heavy with unspoken things that neither of you seemed ready to address. Dean’s chest tightened as he watched you tuck your hair behind your ear again, the movement so simple yet somehow mesmerizing.

You bit your lip lightly, your arms wrapping around yourself as an involuntary shiver ran through you. The cool air of the bunker combined with the cold tiles underfoot wasn’t doing you any favors, and the oversized shirt you wore didn’t provide much warmth. You glanced away from Dean, suddenly feeling more vulnerable under his gaze.

Dean sighed softly, setting his glass down on the table with a quiet clink. The sound drew your attention back to him just in time to see him stand up, his broad frame now looming over you. He wasn’t as tall as Sam, but he felt larger somehow—his shoulders broader, his presence more commanding. The air between you seemed to crackle with unspoken energy as he closed the space between you in just a few steps.

“Here”, he muttered, his voice low and rough as he reached for the flannel he’d been wearing. The movement made his biceps flex beneath his gray T-shirt, and for a brief moment, you couldn’t help but admire the way his muscles shifted. He didn’t seem to notice—or maybe he didn’t care—as he slipped the flannel off his shoulders and held it out to you.

Before you could say anything, Dean gently draped it over your frame, the fabric settling around you like a warm cocoon. It smelled like him—faintly of whiskey, leather, and something distinctly Dean. You glanced up at him, your heart skipping a beat as you realized just how close he was.

“Can’t have you freezing to death on my watch”, he said, his voice softer now, the teasing edge replaced with something warmer, almost protective.

Dean tugged the flannel tighter around your shoulders, his fingers brushing against your arms as he adjusted it to make sure you were warm. The gesture was meant to be casual, maybe even brotherly, but as he shifted closer, his hips inadvertently brushed against your belly.

Your breath hitched.

You didn’t mean to react, but the unmistakable press of him against you—even through his thick jeans—sent a jolt of heat rushing through your body. Your gaze flicked up to his face, and you saw his jaw tighten, his lips parting slightly as if he was about to say something, but no words came.

Dean froze, his hands still resting lightly on the flannel draped around you. He’d felt it too, the way his body betrayed him at the worst possible moment. His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, trying to push down the flood of sensations threatening to overwhelm him.

For a second, neither of you moved. The tension that had been simmering between you all night boiled over, the air crackling with an intensity that made your pulse race. You weren’t sure what to do—what to say—but your body seemed to have a mind of its own, leaning ever so slightly closer to him as if drawn by some invisible force.

Dean’s hands dropped from the flannel, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. He took a half step back, his expression unreadable as he looked away, his jaw clenched tightly. “You should, uh…”, he started, his voice rough and uneven, “you should probably get back to Sam”.

His words felt like a bucket of cold water, and you blinked, stepping back yourself as you clutched the flannel tighter around you. “Right”, you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. “I should”.

Dean nodded, still avoiding your gaze as he grabbed his glass from the table and drained what was left in one swift motion. His other hand raked through his hair, and he let out a slow, shaky breath. “Goodnight, Y/N”, he said, his voice softer this time but still laced with tension.

You hesitated, your lips parting as if to say something, but no words came. Instead, you turned and walked toward the hallway, your bare feet padding softly against the tiles. As you disappeared around the corner, you couldn’t help but glance back once, catching a glimpse of Dean standing there, his shoulders tense, his head bowed.

Dean didn’t move until he was sure you were gone. When he finally sat back down, his elbows resting on the table as he buried his face in his hands, he muttered to himself, “What the hell are you doing, man?”.

But no matter how hard he tried to push it away, the ghost of your touch and the warmth of your body against his lingered, driving him closer to the edge than he cared to admit.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰 

-

Taglist: @blackcherrywhiskey @baby19sthings @suckitands33 @spnfamily-j2 @lyarr24 @deans-baby-momma @reignsboy19 @kawaii-arfid-memes @mekkencspony @lovziy @artemys-ackles @fitxgrld @libby99hb @lovelyvirtualperson @a-lil-pr1ncess @nancymcl @the-last-ry @spndeanwinchesterlvr @hobby27 @themarebarroww @kr804573 @impala67rollingthroughtown @deans-queen @deadlymistletoe @selfdestructionandrhum @utyblyn @winchesterwild78 @jackles010378 @chirazsstuff @foxyjwls007 @smoothdogsgirl @woooonau @whimsyfinny @freyabear @laaadygisbooornex3 @quietgirll75 @perpetualabsurdity @pughsexual @berryblues46 @deanwinchestersgirl8734 @kr804573 @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing @barnes70stark @roseblue373 @shanimallina87 @ascarriel @deanwinchesters67impala @thebiggerbear @quietgirll75 @barnes70stark @kellyls04 @spxideyver @ralilda @americanvenom13 @ozwriterchick

[porcelaininkpot]

Curses I would put on the cast of redacted-

Vincent - He makes the most perfect, runway model worthy messy bun to keep his hair up before showering and then is never able to recreate it no matter how hard he tries.

Asher - He wakes up early but his bed is so comfy he will always fall right back asleep and be late for important meetings.

William - Has a classical song stuck in his head but cannot remember it's name and has absolutely zero musical talent so he can never find it again no matter how hard he searches.

Alexis - There will always be a piece of food stuck in her teeth while she is in public and she cannot remove it with her tongue despite her greatest efforts and it makes her tongue hurt.

Gavin - The ability to grow perfect, long, healthy natural nails but whenever he has an important event or party he wants to attend and take pictures at one of them breaks and he has to chop them all off.

Kody - He experiences that chest pain you get when you swallow water wrong every time he swallows water.

Morgan - One of his nostrils will always be blocked.

Milo - Wears only gold and when he goes shopping he will find pieces of jewellery so perfect it was like the divines forged them specifically for him to don, but the stores will never have them in gold, only silver.

Treasure - Has a Polaroid camera, but they will always use up their Polaroid film one shot before finding the most perfect photo op, and will have to watch the moment pass by knowing that if they hasn't taken polaroids of silly things, they could have taken the most beautiful picture ever. No one believes them when he says that they saw this beautiful thing happen.

Lovely - Everything they buy always goes on a crazy good sale a day after they buy it.

[rafescherie]

warningᝰ.ᐟ — MDNI. stepbro!rafe, stepcest, coercion & manipulation.

it starts off small — noticing the way your eyes linger on him whenever he speaks, your eye contact never broken the entire conversation, like you were a school girl with a crush, completely smitten and overwhelmed with your own delusion. your mind drives you crazy — was he watching the way you suckled on your cherry red popsicle on purpose, or was it just your pretty little head playing tricks on you? so desperate for your own stepbrother that you were imagining him feeling the same way you did for him?

stepbro!rafe loves watching the shade of red that flushes your pretty face everytime he gives you the simplest of compliments. you get so flustered from a single crumb of his attention, it has his cock straining against the material of his khakis. it was like your entire world revolved around him, and knowing the attention he clearly lacked from his parental, this new found obsession of yours was only fuelling him to need you too.

he’s so possessive, too. if you wear a skirt that’s too short, or a shirt that shows too much, he’s instantly on your case about it — “change out of that shit, now.” except it’s his own jealously issues fuelling the control, unable to fathom other men would be looking at you wearing the shit you did. “m’jus looking out for you, kid. what kind of big brother would i be if i didn’t?”

stepbro!rafe who’s able to manipulate your stupid little brain into thinking rubbing against each other was okay… it’s just dry humping, it’s not like you’re seeing each other nude, right? the whimpers you let out are so delicious as you needily rub your aching pussy against his thick clothed cock, feeling that familiar wet patch build against the fabric when he cums in his khakis from the friction alone.

stepbro!rafe who gradually eases you into worse things — running his hands over your soft torso and waist while you desperately grind against him, feeling his rough fingers dig into the fat of your breasts. soon enough, he’s rubbing his cock against the wet fabric of your panties that cling to your swollen pussy lips, his creamy cum mixed so perfectly with your own arousal that it’s hard to tell where his begins and yours ends.

stepbro!rafe who has you convincing him to ‘just stick the tip in.’ you had grown tired of the aching friction in your poor cunt, pussy clenching at the mere idea of being stretched open and fucked into. he’s smugly muttering about how dirty you are, how this was so disgusting and gross of you, whole time this was his plan all along. telling you he’s ‘proud of ya’ after you both finish for finally growing a back bone and going after what you want. he has to stop himself from cumming as his thick tip breaches your warm tight entrance for the first time, like he was some stupid teenage boy having sex for the first time.

bonus — he’s definitely pressing a hard kiss against your temple, calloused large hand squeezing your ass cheek while he subtly encourages & shames you, saying he knew you were just as sick and gross as he was for enjoying this shit, he’s your brother by marriage, after all.

absolutely has pictures of you in his hidden folder — hand tangled in your hair as he guided your pretty little mouth on his heavy cock while mascara ran down your face, too cock-drunk to notice the flash of his phone. definitely uses it as blackmail, but you secretly love it, the thrill of your friends and family finding out you were such a needy slut for your own stepbrother had your panties soaked and legs weak.

stepbro!rafe who has your legs spread wide open, tongue lapping at your heat while you cover your own mouth, the sound of his father pacing around the hallway right outside your door has your heart fluttering against your chest. the muffled whimpers you let out are pathetic really, but it’s not to make noise when his tongue worked so well against your soaked folds, mixing his own saliva with your arousal until you’re squirming against his tongue as you cum.

stepbro!rafe who has you leaking his cum onto your panties the whole night, ego high just thinking about how he has his precious sperm oozing out of your tight, warm cunt while your entire family goes out to eat at a fancy restaurant. the things your parents would say if they found out… omg. (,,> ᴗ <,,)

and i mean, it’s not so wrong, right? your parents were on the verge of divorce, spending more time apart than together. soon, you and rafe wouldn’t even be step-siblings, which served well in your mind to remind you of this predicament you had found yourself in with rafe cameron, your stepbrother, of all people.

[kabr0ztrousers]

Hiii :)))

I’ve been reading your work for a while now and its. so. fricken. good. 🥵🔥🔥 Seriously, you’re great at writing! Love! Also I have a request for you, I know you have a few on the docket but I wanted to send you one for whenever you have time/if you like it! It took me a bit to decide to send one (i was shy..) Anyway

I have sooo enjoyed your minotaur stories and I love the idea of the minotaur farm. I was thinking f/human + m/minotaur. She applies to work at the farm having a secret lust for the beasts and wanting to become a breeder (she doesn’t end up getting hired as one) BUT obvi she ends up getting bred secretly without her bosses knowing 👀 Some edging/orgasm denial and definitely him dominating the hell out of her!! Also knotting and him being in heat would be so hot… Thanks for taking the time to read this!! Again love your work xx

(hopefully will be submitting again so if the 🪽 emoji isn’t taken yet, just know that’s me!) thanks!!! 🖤❤️‍🔥🖤

Hopefully this is the same 🪽 anon I gave that emoji to before, because I saw that ask before this one!

Kabr0z Writes episode 57: Ranch-hand

Find the rest of the Kabr0z Writes anthology here!

CWs: group sex; sharing; mmmf; giving fellatio, including throatfucking; masochism; service top; creampie; size difference; edging; squirting; unprepared anal; hucow mention; alcohol use; coerced alcohol use (kinda); alcohol intox; hair pulling; impact play

A/N: I skirted the line a little here with the CWs, the POV character goes to the location to get aggressively fucked, and I tried to communicate her getting off on hair pulling and impact play, even going so far as to help the first minotaur along. On the other hand, I'm not sure if that'll cross lines for people so that's why you're getting spoiled in the a/n - it's still real good though and I hope you enjoy

########################################

You'd first applied for a job as a cow. You knew the ranch kept human livestock, they weren't the most subtle about it, and you'd had more than enough of the office 9-5. Of course, you didn't get the job. It's not a job you apply for, and it's definitely not something you'd find on anyone's CV.

Whatever. You'd gotten over it and quit your shitty desk job anyway. Who knows, you might be able to make a living selling pictures of your feet. Your phone pinged. An withheld number texted you. No name, just a time and the address of the farm. What did you have to lose?

You knew the way already. The minotaurs who ran the place seemed not to understand the concept of aerial photography, so allowed the women to graze, stark naked, on the field away from the road. Sure, you can't see it as you drive by, but if you know what to look for it really stands out on the LandSat data. The drive wasn't even far, though it's a little strange to be wearing so little on the way. You'd decided to only wear a skimpy nightgown, so your bare legs were sticking to the faux leather seats of your car, to say nothing of the snail trail coming from your slit. It's funny, if you're right, you're going to a life somewhere between monastic ascetic and sexed-up hedonist. Despite hoping to never see your clothes again, you'd still dressed in something you wouldn't care if it got ruined.

You turned off the main road. It's still about a mile of field until the farmhouse, but the road here isn't paved. Your tiny Vauxhall bounced up the path, snaking up switchbacks until halfway up the hill you arrived.

The house isn't large. Despite the three minotaurs living there and working the ranch, the building was about as large as your home (former home) and you wondered how they managed it.

You opened the door of your car. The cold predawn air made your nipples stand on end, pointing out of the almost-translucent fabric of your nightie as you walked barefoot to the door and knocked.

No answer.

Not even a peep. You wished you'd brought your phone to check the text, but knew better than to take a tracker with you to get semi-kidnapped into an illegal fuck-slave ring. That just seemed like a no-brainer. You knocked again.

Still nothing.

You tried the handle.

It opened. You stepped in, the front door went to a vestibule where you wiped your muddy feet before going further into the house.

Now the living room. A couple of well-worn sofas, a pile of beer cans in one corner and the remains of a takeaway littering the coffee table. The kitchen looked to be in a similar state, empty bottles of vodka and other cheap spirits on the counter, the fridge door ajar.

Someone had a good night

You padded up the stairs. The warmth of the house causing your goosebumps to settle down, but your nipples still stood out as you explored the house.

Four doors at the top of the stairs, the bedrooms and the bathroom, each opening onto the windowless landing. You picked at random. Snoring echoed through the upper floor, these minotaurs weren't light sleepers, especially after putting away enough booze to hospitalise a baseline human. You pushed the door, the latch clicking lightly as it opened and the smell of liquor hit you. The minotaur lay in his bed, mostly naked, still clutching a bottle of supermarket-brand whiskey.

You turned, meaning to leave the tiny bedroom, mostly filled with bovine beefcake. A hand grabbed your face. The smell of the liquor and last night's curry filled your nostrils.

"What you doing here?"

"Mmmmph!" You tried to speak through the hand over your mouth, but couldn't make a sound.

The minotaur pulled you into the dark room and forced you back onto his bed. The neck of the whisky bottle was at your face. The hand over your mouth moved, you opened and he poured the cheap spirit into your mouth. Great gulps went down your throat as the rest covered your face. The smell of the alcohol filled your senses, drowning out the smell of the man gripping your face. Your head started to spin as the alcohol hit you, filling you with warmth.

Even semi-hungover, he looked good, and this is why you came here, after all.

You were staring at each other. He looked puzzled. His thumb was next to your mouth. You opened a little wider, letting it slip in as you angled your head to suck on it, tasting the warm liquid on it. Slowly, he was getting the message as you held his hand to your cheek and slid off the bed onto the floor.

You yanked off his boxers, leaving him totally naked in front of you as you knelt on the pile of clothes next to his bed. You looked at his sheath, using one hand to rub it, marvelling as the flared head of his cock rose from it.

You licked the end, kissing it and rubbing your face on it. The hand on your face had softened already, feeling you rather than holding. That wouldn't do. You took his hand gently and put it on the back of your head, curling his fingers into your hair as you bobbed your head. His fist tightened, you felt your cunt twitch as he pulled on your hair.

You took his cock deeper in your mouth. You needed to encourage him a little, but he was pushing you down on it now. You helped him push himself past your throat barrier, forcing the thick cock down past your tonsils, feeling the flare pop in, out, in, out.

One hand juggled his balls, each one the size of a duck egg, the other slipped up your nightgown, one slender finger teasing your leaking hole.

You could hear him groaning, the sound mixing with your lewd slurping and moaning.

A hand banged on the door

"Jim! Turn off the sound! Fuck sake!"

"S'not a video" your minotaur groaned out

"The fuck?" The door opened. Another minotaur stood in the door, looking down at you

You saw him grin. He slipped off his sweatpants and started grasping his sheath, the cock rising in his hand.

They lifted you to the bed. Jim sat in front of you, his cock in front of you, glistening with slime from your throat, a strand of your spittle linking the twitching end with your lips. The other cock was behind you, pressing gently against your cunt. Your arms were being held behind your back, one huge hand keeping both wrists in place. You let your tongue dangle, eyes locked with the minotaur in front of you as both his hands gripped your hair.

The cock behind you sank in. Your eyes crossed

"Oh, yes, give it to me" you moaned

Neither of the minotaurs held back. The one behind you hilted himself in you as your throat was filled again. Every inch of his cock was being used, pulling almost out of your pussy before that flared end slammed back down into you, his hips hitting yours and hammering your face another inch down his brother's cock. Again and again, he pushed you forwards, each time the cock got deeper down your throat. Your eyes watered, the alcohol was keeping your gag reflex down, but he still hurt going this deep. You could feel it in your cunt, oceans of wetness lubricating the cock claiming your nethers. You felt yourself starting to clench, to twitch. You rode his cock even as he abused your hole. You're nearly there...

He pulled out. Your cunt clenched against nothing, the throbbing ache running down your legs and up your belly. Your hands were still pinned to the small of your back as the cock in your throat started to pulse. The one behind you slapped your ass before stuffing three fingers into your cunt, twisting them, massaging your hole as his brother spurted hot, thick, salty cum down your throat. There was so much, if it wasn't for the wide flare sealing your throat off you could feel it would be squirting out of your nose. As it was, you swallowed it down. Your swallows pulled him in further, your body trying to force the foreign object down. He pulled out instead, flare popping out of your mouth as he rubbed the blunt end of his cock on your face, mixing his cum in with your throat slime and tears.

"Gonna take a shower. Give Jack a turn" Jim left the room, sidling past his brother as he kept sliding his fingers in you

"You'd like that, huh? Have all three?" He snarled at you, thumb brushing against your clit

"Please?" You're still drunk, you just wanted to cum all over this beast behind you

"All right then" he snatched his hand away from your cunt, wrapping it around your torso and listed you so you faced him. Your tits pressed on his front as you held on. His cock was at your open cunt. You tried to push it in, but he held it just at the entrance. You rubbed against the tip as he walked to the end of the hall

"Jack! Got a surprise!"

"Fuck off, John!"

John pushed the door open with his back. You saw the last minotaur on the bed. He saw you too

"So that fuckmeat came after all"

"You know this bitch?" John sounded amused, using one hand to slap your ass again as the other pinned you to him "I just thought Jim pulled somehow"

"Yeah, she's a wannabe cow" Jack grabbed a handful of your hair. You whined as he pulled it

"Fuck, if only there was more of her..." His cock was at your asshole now, next to his brother's still grazing the entrance of your cunt "real painslut, aren't you?"

You nodded

He pushed.

Your asshole clenched as the cock forced its way in. John pressed you down, his cock impaling your cunt as the other barged into your unprepared asshole.

The tip slipped in. John fucking you was spreading your juices onto his brother's cock. It wasn't enough to stop it hurting as he forced it up you, but it helped.

Both cocks rubbed against each other, you felt them inside you, driving up as you fell down. The men sandwiched you, keeping you upright, stretched out and stuck on them, legs dangling off the floor as they fucked themselves with you.

Your head spun. The cock in your ass didn't hurt any more, or it did, but it was getting you off so you didn't care. Your moans and whines filled your head, getting closer to the edge as they rutted into you.

"What? You wanna cum" John growled into your ear

"Yes" you whined

"Yes what?"

"Yes, sir"

"You gonna be our cumrag?"

"Yes sir"

"Ok then, you can cum"

John grabbed one of your arms, pushing your hand between you and him. Your fingers rubbed your clit. Your eyes streamed as you wailed into his shoulder, cunt squirting onto the floor.

Both of your abused holes clenched and pulsed, the force of your finish milking the beasts as they railed you.

John came first, his cock hardening even more in you as he buried it, hot cum streaming out into your womb as you held each others bodies. You felt Jack slam his hips into your asscheeks, squeezing your hips as his flare expanded in you, seed pumping into your rear.

Both men held you there, enjoying the three-way embrace as they softened in you.

The shower came free, they let you go first on one condition:

You'd move in with them, to do this again and again

########################################

I just realised that if I catch up on Sunday, then that'll be early March... The question is, do I move to Volume 2 on Saturday with the calendar month, or at 60 episodes?

Doesn't make a difference to the day-to-day pornographing, only the contents pages, but it's a decision I wasn't anticipating...

[losthoodie]

My brain has been taken over by baby hülkenberg lately.. so….

I’m just gonna plop these photos of williams rookie nico here and then scurry off into The Void

[acid-ixx]

a loving family, an unpalatable desire

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

a/n: would anyone hear me out if i ever wrote romantic yan! bruce (ft. platonic yan! batfam AND romantic yan clark kent alongside the superfam ofc) with a neglected spouse reader... because uhm, i've been thinking about it lately just yk... so anyways PLSPLSPLS send in asks about this, ive been thinking about it so much lately.

imagine wanting to raise a family so badly with a man who adopts problem children as a side hustle. you're not some invasive spouse, you've always been good, always been loving, so... so accepting, never questioned where or how he picked them up from the side of the streets, never once complaining about the hickeys on his neck or the once neat tussles of his hair now tangled accompanying lipstick stains on his white suit.

you love your children, you tell yourself all the time. you love them, you love bruce— even if he doesn't love you. you said it in your vows, despite it being scripted, despite your family finally sighing in relief in the sidelines at finally being able to sell you off to one of the wealthiest man in the world, rather than being wasting off under their care— your vows are real.

you wanted someone to love you, unconditionally, so viscerally eternal that it eats you up.

really, all you wanted was to play that fantasy life of trophy house spouses. all you wished for was a loving, healthy relationship. the american dream: the picture perfect family frames, your husband kissing you on the cheek as he leaves for work, your children bickering at the dining room, with the scent of homemade meals wafting about the vicinity. all you wanted was the warmth in your chest to flicker like candlelights. all you dreamed about was that domestic life, an escape from the abusive household you were raised in.

yet the manor is too cold, too unforgiving for a soul such as yours.

the longer you stay inside claustrophobic, yet oh-so large hallways, the quicker you drown in a neverending pool of self-hatred.

but you're not allowed to show them your sufferings. they've been through much worse, you tell yourself. they've suffered more, and as what good spouses do, as what you're taught, you stay silent, enabling them to turn you into their own emotional punching bag.

you only allow yourself to cry at the dead of the night, under the sheets of your too-cold blanket and your too-hot pillows. when the manor is filled with deathly silence and a looming sense of dread and ill fitting thoughts of ifs and when they'll come back in one piece, will you grant yourself temporary respite; worry for a family who never even called you their parent.

yet you've always been so considerate. despite the pang in your chest every time bruce flirts with anymore potential love interest at a gala, you chose to instead monitor your chaotic children, who have always never bat an eye on you despite you always gazing lovingly at them.

you know of their interests, they don't know yours, yet you still give them extravagant gifts on their birthdays, with tired, yet glinting eyes, and a silent excuse to return to your room; one separate from bruce.

you know of bruce's hardships, but you don't push too hard, don't force him to talk, only provide him your silence and an offer to serve him dinner; all the time he refuses without looking at you. you give him comfort only if he ever allows you, only if he allows his walls to crumble— but not even his spouse can amount to a warm, crackling fireplace. to him, you're probably only a matchstick under the deadbeat glaze of the snow in a winter night.

maybe that's why you're such a ghost in the manor, stalking through the hallways, looking out for any of your children in case they come across you with any injuries. maybe that's why eventually your resolve weakened.

and maybe the absence of familial love led you to find comfort in another man's arm.

''til death do us part,' is such a tragic saying in your case, because you know it in your fragile heart that bruce's love for you was never alive in the first place. and yet you allow him to play you like a fiddle, allow him to slowly allow you to slip away from his nonexistent grasp.

and now, you're a stand-in parent for clark's son, jon, after the tragic loss of his wife. now, your world seems a lot less bleaker, as you play the fantasy of a loving house spouse, fully abandoning the life you left behind, a life you've never been gifted with until now. you want to feel guilty, you want to feel absolutely terrible but the heartache of neglect has become too much and all you do was allow clark to warm you up each night, kissing away your tears and spooning your deep-seated anxieties away.

you don't let the past eat you up, not when the present is too perfect, too freeing, too delusionally beautiful.

your son, jon provides you every joy a parent could have. parent's day gifts, heartfelt letters at every nook and cranny of your shared bedroom with clark— even reading him bedtime stories, allowing him to sleep in your lap after he slowly nods off, with clark knocking softly on polished wooden doors, greeting you with a loving kiss on the lips and a bouquet of your favorite flowers in hand—

it's everything a parent wants, needs even.

and you're everything clark, and especially jon wants, needs in their life.

so it's such a stupid mistake, really. a slip of the tongue, a too-enthusiastic smile, incredibly bright, shining eyes. it's not jon's fault, you still love him either way. but it's an error still— one a complicated matter at hand, so dreadful for you, that jon accidentally, all-too-suddenly, mentions you as his parent to damian.

a loving, wonderful parent, he says, with a picture of you in his wallet shoved right in front of his friend's face.

[sturniqlo]

VALENTINE'S DAY- SHY!MATT X SHY!READER

summary: matt and darlings second valentine's day together

cw: SMUT; unprotected p in v, face riding, oral!f!receiving, handjob (kinda), creampie, use of "good girl" (said once), + some FLUFF; cute couple shit😔

an: surprise!!! i missed matt and darling and they missed you too | also this is darlings underneath surprise for matt

masterlist | shy!matt x shy!reader | join my taglist

"okay, put this on." matt held up a bunny sleeping mask he had stolen from darlings room. "what?" she raised an eyebrow and stared at him. the two were currently sat in matt's car parked in front of the cabin they were staying in for the long weekend.

a couple of weeks prior, matt had decided to book a cabin for valentine's day, since it was presidents' day weekend they had an extra day. "put it on, please." he tried to hide his smile. darling hesitated, but eventually gave in. "okay, you better not leave me stranded somewhere." she giggled as she slipped the eyes mask on. "i'd never do that." he squeezed her hand lightly. "wait here, i'll open you the door."

exiting the car, he closed his door and made his way to the passenger side. "gimme your hand, pretty." he held his hand out. "matt, i can't see, silly." she smiled, her hand trying to find his. "oh- right." he blushed, capturing her hand in his. "okay, step out—careful." matt looked down to make sure she wouldn't step on anything that would make her lose her balance.

"c'mon, just hold on t'me." he said and her hand came to grip the red sweater he was wearing. his sweater matched darlings red sweater with white hearts.

before coming to the cabin, they had spend the entire morning and afternoon together. they exchanged their valentines gifts and went to a nice and cozy breakfast place. for lunch, darling made matt's favorite meal and they ate at her house. from her house, they packed up matt's car and went for a quick grocery run and then arrived at the cabin.

"alright, watch your step. there's a small flight of stairs." matt warned her and helped her up the four steps. "let me open the door." he let go of her arm and entered the code for the door. matt hadn't actually seen the inside of the cabin, and he was met with pink and red rose petals along with small candles in the entrance.

"you can take it off now." he stepped behind her and closed the door. darling slowly lifted the eye mask and gasped. "matt—" she smiled, her eyes darting around the heart shaped balloons and rose petals on the floor. "wha— how?" she turned to him with a huge smile on her face. "remember how i went to my dorm to pack?" she nodded. "i actually came here to do this. you like?"

"my love," she pouted. "i love it." her bottom lip quivered. "hey—hey, why're you crying, darling?" he wiped away the stray tears that fell from her eyes. "i'm so happy. this— it's so nice and- ughh! i just love you." she wrapped her arms around his neck. "i love you." his arms came around her waist and he pressed a few kisses on her hair. "you haven't even seen the best part, yet."

"there's more?" she looked at him, her eyes still glossy. "for you always." he pecked her lips. "c'mon." he held her hand and walked her to the dining area. as they approached it, darling could the room glowing. rounding the corner, she saw how he had decorated. "oh matt. it's so pretty." she stared in awe. there was balloons along the windows, a table with rose petals and many pictures of them, and the dining table was set so beautifully.

"thank you." she turned to him, jumping on him and of course he caught her, he always did. "thank you, thank you, thank you." she repeated as she pressed kisses on his face, leaving faint kiss marks behind. "anything for you, i mean it." he scrunched his nose as she left a peach there. matt was able to catch her lips in a passionate kiss as she pecked them. "i love you so much, pretty girl. happy valentine's day." he spoke against her lips. "mm—happy valentine's day, baby. i love you more."

what was supposed to be a quick kiss turned into a heated make out session. matt's hands that held her up were squeezing her ass over her jeans, her hands were tugging thag the hair at the nape of his neck.

"please— let me show you how much i love you, yeah?" he pulled away, his lips red and swollen. "yes— mhm, please." she nodded, her lips coming up to his neck to kiss the skin. matt wasted no time in taking them to the bedroom. the dinner matt had brought earlier crossed his mind, but he didn't care. he could order something new.

as he gently kicked the door open and the bedside lamps were on from when he had first came here. "i was supposed to show you this later, but now is a good time." he gently placed her back on the floor and she saw the rose petals on the bed in the shape of a heart. "you're just perfect aren't you." she smiled, turning back to him. matt chuckled, and grabbed her by the waist. "speak for yourself." his lips dipped down to kiss her neck and he guided her backwards to the bed.

matt pushed her lightly and laid her down on top of the petals. "we're ruining your masterpiece don't you think?" darling gave him a teasing smile. "you really think i care about that when i have you in front of me?" his warm hands slid underneath her sweater. "i guess not." she giggled.

"can i?" matt asked when her sweater was pushed up just underneath her bra. she held back a smile knowing what she was wearing underneath. it was the first time she had actually worn sexy lingerie, as much as she was excited, she was nervous. when matt pulled the sweater up and off her body he groaned when he saw her lacy yet see through bra.

"holy shit, baby. you really are perfect." he threw his face on top of her skin just above her boob. "you like it?" she said quietly. "i fucking love it. you look so pretty." he planted a few kisses on her skin. "does that mean?" he came to a realization and his fingertips went to the hem of her jeans. "matching underwear." she nodded, and blushed. "fuck— can i see?" darling nodded. "go ahead." she gave him permission.

darling didn't have time to blink and matt already had her jeans off. "oh my god. you're killing me here." his fingers raked over her front of her underwear. matt threw her jeans on the floor to meet with her sweater. "so beautiful, so perfect, all mine." he muttered against her warm skin as he kissed up her body. his soft, warm kisses made her whine softly as she wanted more.

matt pulled away, and took his sweater off. "want you so bad, pretty girl. let me have you please. fuck— let me taste you again" he practically whined against her neck, his fingers teasingly nudged her clothed slit. her arousal had damped her underwear. "please, yes— please." she nodded her head, shifting on the bed a bit and she could already feel the rose petals sticking to her.

he slowly kissed down her neck, stopping that the top of her breast and kissed over the mesh material. with his other hand, he brought the material down to expose her tits. his lips wrapped around her hardened nipple and he swirled his tongue around it, while the other one was occupied by his fingers. "oh— matt." she gasped, her hand came on top of his guiding it to squeeze her harder. "you were made for me, my love. so fucking perfect, so perfect." popping off, his hands never left her tits as he continued to trail kisses down her body.

his kisses ended just above her core. she could feel his warm breath so close to her, so close. "let me take my time with you, show you how much i love you, especially today." he kissed and nipped along her inner thighs. matt's arms wrapped around her thighs as his head was caged in. "but—" she whined, trying to roll her hips to get closer to him. "i know, i know." he cooed, sucking so close to the edge of her covered pussy.

"want you to remember this night, wanna show you how special you are." his right arm unwrapped from her thigh and he pulled her panties to the side, seeing her glistening pussy in the warm light. "so wet for me, aren't you." his forefinger nudged her puffy clit. "matt, baby." she watched how he brought the same finger up to his mouth to taste the but if arousal. "so sweet like always." his finger went in for another dip, but this time, he swiped it up from her hole to her clit, collecting much more.

"mm, so good." he licked his finger clean. finally, he dipped down and licked up her slit. "yes— yes matt." her hands few to his hair. his nose nudged her clit and he licked her. it was as if her hips had a mind of its own and started rolling against his face, trying to get as close as possible. matt pulled off her pussy. "no, matt. wha—" she almost cried. "it's okay. want you on my face, sit on my face." her face turned more flushed.

"are you sure? what if i suffocate you." she said and matt crawled up to her, his face above hers. "you won't, but if you do i wouldn't mind going like that." he smirked, pressing a kiss to her lips. "matt—" he cut her off. "please, i promise it'll be like last time." she bit the skin on her lip, thinking and remembering how good it did feel, her hips rolling against his face, his nose nudging against her clit as his tongue dipped in and out of her hole.

"okay, okay." she nodded, matt moved away to let her sit up. matt went to lay on the pillows and noticed a few rose petals on her back as she unclasped her bra. "you got a little something on your back." he giggled, reaching out to pluck them off. she thanked him and discarded her underwear. crawling up to him, she straddled his lap and leaned down to kiss him, she could taste herself on his tongue.

his hands came down to knead her ass. "c'mon, get on my face." matt gave her a light slap on her ass cheek. she gave him on last kiss before moving up to straddle his head. matt almost groaned when her pussy was so close yet so far from his mouth. he wasted no time in wrapping his arms around her and bringing her down to his mouth. "oh! matt- yes— mhm, just like that." her hips rolled against his face, her hands came went to hold on to the headboard.

matt looked up at her and saw her blissed out face, her eyes were closed and her jaw was slacked, little moans and whines slipping out of her. "feel good, baby? because you taste amazing." his tongue lapped at her wetness. "feels so good, matt." she managed to let out.

many, many sucks and licks later, her thighs began to ache. "i- i can't." she whined. matt gave her core a open mouthed kiss before speaking. "it's okay, i got you." he patted her hip and she laid next to him. "you alright, pretty girl?" he rolled to his side, his hand running through her hair. "mhm." she nodded, a flushed expression on her face. "i want you." darling pouted, and matt crawled on top of her. "fuck— i want you too." he muttered against the skin of her collarbone. her fingers trailed down his happy trail and tugged on his jeans.

he nodded, granting her permission. she unbuttoned his jeans and matt kicked them off, leaving him in his boxers. "so hard, baby." she palmed him over. "you're killing me, baby." his head fell in her neck. darling gently pulled his boxers down and his cock sprung out in between them. "fuck." he groaned as she wrapped her hand around him.

"please, matt." she looked up at him through her lashes, her hand moving up and down his length, pumping him for a good while. her thumb circled around his leaky tip and his hips jerked "shit—" he bit down in her neck. "i need you." he kissed her neck and she removed her hand from his dick and spread her legs. "ready f'me?" he looked at her, and he stroked his cock a few times.

he sat up on his knees and grabbed her thighs pulled her towards him. with a shriek and a giggle, darling wrapped her legs around him. "mhm, m'ready." matt held his cock and ran the tip up and down her wetness. "matt." she whined impatiently, rolling her hips trying to get more.

"okay, i'll stop." he giggled as he lined his tip up with her hole. slowly, he pushed himself in, feeling her warm walls suck him in. "oh, baby. you're so tight, so warm." his mood instantly changed. "fuck— you're so big." she whined, pulling him down so she could wrap her arms around him.

once he was all in, he stood still for a few seconds so she could adjust to his size. "you can move." she whispered in her ear. "y'sure?" he kissed her cheek. "mhm." matt began to rock his hips into her. he soon picked up his speed and the roll was filled with their moans and the sound of skin slapping together.

"feel so good around me— yeah, shit— keep squeezing me like that." he groaned, kneading her tit in his hand. "matt, matt— oh my god!" he hit that spot deep in her. "it's so good, you're so good. love you so much." she whined, her nails digging into his back. he hissed— in pleasure. "scratch me up, baby. m'all yours. mark me as yours."

his hand trialed from her tits, down to where they were connected and toyed with her clit. "yes! fuck— yes, matt." her hips rolled against his. "darling, i want you on top of me. i'll do the work, promise." he kissed her lips down to her jaw, lightly nipping. the feeling of his fingers on her clit and his continuing thrusts only let her nod.

the thrusts slowed down and he gently pulled out. matt laid on the bed and grabbed her pulling her on top of him. he wasted no time in putting his cock back into her. darling instantly moaned at the new angle. he felt even deeper inside of her. "feels better?" his hips thrusted up into her, his hand came up to her face to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "mhm— so deep." she nodded.

"i love you." matt's hands trailed down her back, feeling a few petals on her back, and his hands landed on her ass to caress her skin. "i- mm- i love you." she kissed his neck. "matt— harder, please. need it harder."

"yeah? want it harder, baby?" he asked as he picked up the speed, "o- just like that! fuck!" the sound of their skin slapping echoed in the room. "i'm- i'm so close. don't stop, don't stop." she whined into his neck. "want you to cum all over me, darling. wanna feel you cum around me." he kissed her hair, his cock buried deep in her.

matt could feel the familiar pressure building up, but he wanted her to cum first. "can feel you squeezing me. you're so close, aren't you." all she could do was nod against his neck, her breathing heavier than ever.

all of a sudden matt felt her go tense and he knew she was cumming as her legs began to shake. "there we go, good girl." he praised her, as he felt incredibly close to his orgasm. "fuck— i'm so close. where do y'want it." he held his eyes from rolling back. "in me, want you to come in me." she said tiredly, yet still moaning. "oh... s- shit." his hips stilled as spurts of his cum painted the inside of her walls.

"holy shit— happy valentine's day, pretty girl."

☁️ . . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ additional authors note ࿐ྂ

happy valentine's day from ME :D i love each and every single one of you guys!! i had so much fun going on a date with matt today ;).... jk :(.... but if ur like me and have no valentine this year... you're my valentine🌷

[windser]

the first time sylus gave you access to his home at your leisure, his finger had curled under your chin to prompt it to raise until your gazes met. he'd told you to use it whenever you felt like it— to use it when he was gone, if you were feeling lonely or just wanted to curl up into the plush lining of his mattress and the high thread count of his sheets. but his eyes wanted most for you to stay and never leave.

you found it easier than expected to find yourself wandering back to his home. which frankly was no easy feat given that it was housed in the n109 zone. yet, more frequently sylus began receiving pictures of his refrigerator fully stocked with your favorite snacks. other times, he would receive text messages and phone calls while you were buried underneath the comforter of his bed. it was simultaneously the best and worst thing, for he knew you were okay in the boundaries of his home, but he hadn’t properly asked you to make it your home yet.

when he returned home to the secluded location, there a slow gait to his steps, but it was alright - because he was smothered in you. your arms had immediately been around him with his chin tucked into your shoulder so he could get a better grip on the scent he had craved throughout the hours you had been apart.  

it fell into a routine after that and was no longer a request that needed reminders. sylus didn’t have to ask if he needed to clear a drawer in the bedroom dresser or space in the master bathroom because you were already there nearly every night, your knees digging into his stomach while you were sleeping until he grumpily grumbled and pushed them down, your shoes left by the front door, your toothbrush lying around. mephisto's shadow edging closer by each night until he learns to sleep with the light hum of machinery above his head.

he couldn’t find it in him to complain because there was nothing to grouse about. you were in his house, your shampoo lingered on his pillow, and he could walk through the front door to find you lounging on the couch. 

“why do I always seem to find you like this, sweetie?” he asked one particular late night after finishing his affairs for the night. he let out a soft groan, a small but noticeable sign of vulnerability that was reserved just for your shared proximity as he lowered to be able to get to a height that suited your resting form. 

“mmm?” you mumbled through a cloud of exhaustion. “me on the couch?”

sylus chest rumbled softly with a chuckle, brushing the mussed hair away from your eyes. “yes, kitten, you fell asleep on the couch. come, let’s get you up." 

but you had fallen still to his advances to tuck his insistent hands despite your sluggish resistance to help hoist you to your feet. you peered up at him through blinking eyelashes, assessing his gaze while you intertwined your fingers around his. "i like the couch, sy,” you whispered softly, “i like everything about your home." 

he paused, tongue suddenly heavy with the weight of words he'd been harboring for weeks. "do you enjoy it enough to stay here permanently and bicker with me about who ate the last imported candies? or if one of us remembered to let mephisto back in?" 

”‘course, sy.“ you buried your fingers deeper into his hair and watched as his eyelids fluttered shut in relief. "i love wherever you are." 

[hiraethwrote]

contents : f!reader, containts spoilers, character death, mom!reader (has a son), dealing with loss, angst/slight comfort?, bittersweet, no use of y/n wc 1k an : idk what this is, but i just really love satoru and feel sentimental about him... i am not very happy with it but it's something

“mama, i don’t remember this!”

when you turn to look up, you’re staring directly at a photo you have not seen in a long time. once it sinks in just what picture it is you’re looking at, a soft smile grows on your face before meeting your son’s gaze.

no wonder he was confused, because the slightly crinkled picture he had managed to find wasn’t of him, despite the kid being nearly identical to himself. had it not been for the fact that you knew it wasn’t your son who was staring back at you on the piece of paper, it would have fooled you too.

“‘s because it’s not you, sweetheart,” you smile. “come here,” he doesn’t hesitate to scatter over with tiny steps, before you gently lift him into your lap, resting your head on his shoulder as you look at the picture together.

you had nearly forgotten the picture even existed, hid away with other tokens of your late love.

it was a rather simple picture, one from when satoru was just a child, long before you had the privilege of loving him. standing straight and proud, a young satoru was smiling at you, a toothless grin stretching so far across his face that his eyes were squeezed shut.

“it’s your daddy,” you sigh as your son leans back against you. “i think he’s a little older here than you are know.”

“he looks just like me!” excitement carrying his words.

and he did. same tufts of white hair that were always sticking in every direction. same warm smile that greeted everyone he encountered. same kind eyes that never lied.

“do you miss him?”

you turn to look at him, meeting familiar blue eyes you used to get lost in for hours on end. “every day,” you say simply, a sad smile painting your lips.

never letting your eyes leave your son’s face, you notice how his eyebrows narrow slightly and he turns his attention back to the photo. “i wish i met him.”

“me too, baby.” it came out quiet as a whisper, leaning forward to press a soft peck at his temple. “but he’s not gone gone.”

“what do you mean not gone gone?”

“well,” taking a deep breath, sensing how your eyes slowly started to turn glossy with tears. “he lives on in me, in my memory,” you say softly. “and in you,” grabbing his soft cheeks and rubbing your nose against his, causing a delightful little giggle to fill the space. “and all around.”

“all around?” he asks, the confused line between his brows deepening.

“i like to think so. for example, on sunny days i am sure he’s in the sunlight that kisses your skin, keeping you warm and safe. and you know when the wind is blowing so loud we hear it in the walls?”

“mhm,” he nods enthusiastically.

“i’m sure that’s your dad talking,” you laugh a little to yourself. “my god, how he used to talk. all the time.”

you keep looking for at the picture, reminding you of a time where you were able to enjoy the privilege of his strong arms around you, protecting you from any potential harm. it always amazed you, that despite everything he was put through, he was still soft and kind — truly one of his many brilliant qualities that he hadn’t let the world that was so cruel to him, tarnish him completely.

“he’s also in the rain,” you say, your voice falling back to a whisper when he turns to look at you again. you capture his eyes, trying to force a smile as his big eyes stare back at you with such curiosity. “you know how you’ve sometimes seen mommy just stand outside when it’s raining?” he nods. “i miss your dad more than anything, and it makes me sad sometimes. so when it rains, i like to go outside and feel the little droplets hit my face. i thinks it’s how he shows me he is still here, comforting me. sharing my pain so i don’t feel it on my own.”

you don’t even notice the shy tear that has rolled down your cheek until he reaches his small hand to gently wipe it away. “i don’t want you to be sad,” his voice is so full of compassion, wondering how such a small person could have such a big heart — he got that from satoru too.

“it’s okay to be sad sometimes,” you assure him. “it just proves that all i felt for your dad was real.”

he doesn’t seem to understand it fully, but you can’t blame him. he’s still just a kid after all. but as time pass, he'll grow up, it will all eventually make sense to him.

“mama?”

“yes, baby?”

“you’ve said before you talk to him.”

“yeah, all the time.”

“you think i can talk to him too?” your lips instantly start to tremble in an unsteady smile.

you nod slowly before pulling him closer, pressing your cheek against his. “of course! i think he would be happy to hear you talking to him.”

“where do you think he is now?” the loaded question comes out so innocently, unable to stop how you huff a breath, trying to find the right words that would give an answer a child could comprehend.

“i don’t know,” you said honestly, “but wherever he is, i hope he’s resting. that’s the least he deserves.”

with his eyes on the picture again, he gently wiggles out of your arms. his kindness steers his hand to dry more of your tears, again causing your lips to curve into a small smile.

“if it’s okay, i think i’m going to go talk to dad.”

“say hi to him from me, okay?” he nods, flashing you a grin similar to the one satoru bore in the picture in your hands. and he runs off into the garden, standing in the exact spot you so often find yourself in.

©hiraethwrote 2024 . all rights reserved. reposting, translating and otherwise plagarisim is prohibited

[witherby]

HI HI. SAME ANON :33anon here!!!

omg???? jfc christ? that was so good im shaking my cup for more 😭 i think the fact my ask is being used as a power shower is silly... i love it keep up the good work!

(side note ive done metamorphosis may i be 🎆anon.... i will be yapping at you on a later date o7)

Welcome to the club 🎆 I am smooching ur cheek

Hahaha...wouldn't it be so silly....if I used your ask again.....to post the second part hahahaha.....isn't that the silliest idea hahahaha.........

The Littlest Wayne: Uncertain Home

(Part 2 of 2)

Masterlist is Here!

"Let me make sure I've got this straight."

Everyone stiffens in their seats. When Batman says things like that, it means he is very, very close to yelling. Batman never yells unless his patience has reached its limit, his emotional threshold has bubbled over, or he hasn't slept in over six consecutive days. Given his usual activities, it could very well be a combination of the three, and the current situation is not helping.

"You —" he points a gauntleted finger at Manhunter, "— realized my child was showing signs of developing their powers six weeks ago, and told no one."

He turns to Superman and Diana next, talking through clenched teeth.

"And then you two, today, realized the same thing, indirectly told them they would no longer have a place in my home, and then they vanished under your cape."

He places his hands on the meeting table. Inhales. Exhales.

"No one attempted to reach out and express their concerns to me, the father, in either incident."

He slams his fists on the table. The wood splinters under the impact. Everyone flinches with it.

"AND NOW MY CHILD IS MISSING! DID I FORGET ANYTHING? DID I LEAVE ANYTHING OUT!?"

The silence afterwards is deafening. Bruce yanks his cowl off and slams it to the floor, running his hands through his hair.

"The Watchtower is under lockdown until further notice. We do not leave until either I find my kid, or I figure out how to track them down."

"Batman," the Flash chimes in, "I feel for you. This is a bad situation, but we can't all stay here; I have to —"

Bruce rounds the table and crowds Barry into his seat with near-inhuman speed. His eyes are wide and wild and his teeth are bared.

"We do not leave until I find them."

The lights briefly turn red and an automated voice comes over the intercom, alerting them that lockdown protocols have initiated. The heroes watch as blast shields cover the windows and the Zeta tubes deactivate, effectively blocking their only ways out.

Green Lantern re-enters the room from the observation deck with a determined expression.

"Checked the monitors and surrounding galaxy. Skies are clear, and earth-side we should be fine for at least a couple hours, so I went ahead and triggered the protocol."

"Hal!" Barry protests. "C'mon, I'm gonna be late to work again! It's not as easy for some of us to maintain our civilian covers, you know!"

"Well, then it sounds like we gotta find our missing Mouse fast."

Bruce presses a button on his gauntlet and pulls a small ball out of it, rolling it to the center of the table. A hologram screen pops up and shows a picture of you sitting in Tim's lap and enthusiastically looking at something on his computer with him. To the right of the image, a wall of text begins to appear, detailing observations made about your growth, health, and development of your powers.

"You already knew," Diana mutters, like the words have been punched out of her. Clark holds his head in his hands.

"Why didn't you tell us then, huh?" Oliver frowns. "Didn't think we could benefit from that information?"

"My child, my discretion," Bruce hisses. That shuts Ollie right back up. "This is everything I've been able to passively observe about their ability. They can latch onto any shadows in their immediate vicinity, up to a range of approximately one hundred feet, and until now has only used them for pathfinding, like solving puzzles or looking for small objects. What just happened today with Superman's cape is the first discovered instance of them being able to traverse into darkness itself."

"That's why the Watchtower is locked down," J'onn realizes. "If they can only travel so far with the shadows, chances are high that they're still in here."

"Yes."

"How do we pull them out if we find them?" Arthur speaks up, arms crossed. "Last I checked, no one else has shadow powers."

"Do what you can without risking injury to them or yourselves. If you can talk them out, that will be the ideal tactic. Any more questions?" Bruce waits a few seconds for anyone to speak up, then dismisses the holo-screen and rises to his full height. "Then everyone fan out, cast some shadows, and get to work."

--

Arthur is having no luck. He checks the furniture that was already casting shadows, like tables and beds and appliances, to no avail. Calling to you and feeling around those dark spaces isn't gonna get him anywhere.

Clark and Diana had picked up his cape and hunkered down under the fabric, gingerly asking you to please come out, Uncle Clark and Auntie Di are very sorry they implied what they did, they never meant to scare you, please please please come back.

Barry is zipping around the whole tower, checking high spaces and low, calling for you with a mixture of urgency and concern.

Ollie uses his body to cast a shadow under the fluorescent lighting and Dinah crouches in the space of it, patting the ground gently and urging you to appear. She insists everyone is worried and looking for you because they want you to be safe.

Bruce is frantic. He's visually very composed, but Hal can see the tremble in his hands as he slowly and methodically checks every single shadow he can find or create for signs of you.

"Bruce," Hal mutters, watching him check his cape for the fifteenth time in just as many minutes. "Bruce, sit down and breathe for a bit."

"Don't mention breathing," Bruce snaps. "This is unprecedented. I'm working with zero useful information and three of my teammates contributed to this situation in the first place. Can they just exist in darkness forever, or is there a limit before they get spit back out? Can they even get back out? Is there oxygen wherever they are? Are they safe or in any kind of distress? If you don't have answers to these questions or haven't found them yet, I don't want you talking to me."

He turns to check his cape again and almost runs right into J'onn.

"There was a shadow moving in the training room," he noted. "When I approached to investigate, it melted away. I found it important to tell you that Flittermouse seems to be active and uninjured judging by the ease in which that shadow moved."

The Manhunter leaves them again, phasing through the walls to continue searching for you. Bruce pulls his gloves off and rubs his face, sighing.

"Hal."

"I forgive you," comes the immediate reply. Hal places a hand on Bruce's back and offers him a thin smile. "You're a dad who's scared for your four-year-old kid. I think you're entitled to a little bit of bitchiness."

Bruce hums.

"Just a little bit, though. Like fifteen percent more bitch than your baseline. Which is to say, if you talk to me like that again I'm going to make a giant cartoon hammer and beat you to death with it."

Both men hear you giggle. Their heads whip around in the direction of the sound, and find a small, child-shaped shadow moulded into the corner. It's a strange thing, to look at a shadow with no source. It would be frightening if it wasn't you.

"Mouse?" Bruce immediately calls, stepping towards you. The giggling stops and the shadow shrinks. He crouches down, palms extended. "No no no! Don't go, don't go anywhere, please. Can I talk to you?"

You don't respond. Bruce isn't entirely sure if you can, in your current form. You haven't run away yet, however, so he inches just a bit closer.

"I'm...there's...." He stops and starts, searching for the best words to use. "Mouse, there was a misunderstanding. No one is making you leave. I'm not going to give you up or send you away, I promise."

"...m e t a h u m a n..." you mutter. Both Bruce and Hal shiver. It sounds like darkness itself whispering directly into their ears, faint and echoing and all-encompassing.

"Yes, that's what people with skills like yours are called," he confirms.

Your shadow doesn't move for a while. Bruce shuffles closer, palms extended, and is about to ask you to come out, but then your entire form wobbles and starts shrinking even more.

"...n o m e t a s i n G o t h a m..." you say, and the sadness in your voice is so potent Hal has to brace himself against the wall.

"No!" Bruce says, pressing his palm against the wall just a second too late. You dissolve and disappear. "That's not — ffffffuck."

He presses his forehead to the wall and closes his eyes, taking slow, deep breaths to avoid screaming. It takes a while.

"They're not going to talk to me," he eventually says. "They're scared of me, of that damned rule I —"

He cuts himself off and rubs a hand down his face.

"You have to do it."

"Me? Specifically?" Hal asks.

"You're their favorite uncle." Bruce pushes himself off the floor and rests his hand on Hal's forearm. "They adore you. They ask when you're going to visit Gotham again all the time. If anybody's gonna get them to understand that they're not in any trouble or danger of losing their family because of something I did, it's gonna be you."

"Whoa. No pressure," Hal says. He knows it's true though — you absolutely adore Hal, and the feeling is mutual. You feel almost like his own kid. He's just as scared as Bruce is about your current situation. "Okay...alright, I got this. Listen, tell the others that Mouse probably isn't gonna come out for 'em. Go hang out in the meeting room and gimme an hour alone. I'll bring them back."

Bruce nods, but he seems hesitant to leave the part of the hall where they spotted your shadow. Hal gives him a small nudge and he eventually turns away, his boots clocking softly against the floor.

Hal inhales slowly, holds it, then exhales for a count of ten.

He's got this.

--

He does not have this. Hal walked into an empty corridor and flicked all the lights off, choosing to sit in the darkness and try calling out to you for almost thirty minutes. There's been no luck.

He sighs and uses his ring to construct a small bear, illuminating the immediate space around him in green, and makes it walk around.

"Y'know you used to love playing with my constructs," he murmurs. "We had this game I made up, where you would chase after whatever toy I made as fast as you could and try to catch it. I let you win a lot."

He makes a construct of you as a much smaller infant, not yet able to walk, crawling eagerly after the bear.

"You'd grab the little toy and hug it tight, and then come show me you got it. And I'd scoop you up and give you a cookie before we did it all again. We had to really tone down the cookie part because you got sick one time. Bruce made me sleep on the floor for a week. Not even one of the million couches in the manor. The floor. It was the worst."

He hears the surrounding darkness around him giggle. Hal leans against the wall and heaves a large, relieved sigh.

"Hey, kid," he says softly. "S'good to hear you."

You don't respond. He tries not to feel discouraged, instead seizing the opportunity presented.

"I'm not gonna ask you to come out, but if you don't mind...I'm kinda lonely. D'you think we could play that game again?"

Hal vanishes the constructs and makes a new one — a small, stuffed bat toy. He makes it flap its little wings and flop in circles.

"Think you can catch it? This one's a bit feisty."

Nothing happens for a few seconds. Hal feels himself growing nervous, and he's about to abandon the idea and suggest something else, but then the bat just vanishes. The construct is sucked up into the shadows, like darkness itself came up and hugged it into the void. A knot in his chest comes undone.

"That," he says, "was awesome. Okay, here's another one. Even feistier than the last."

This goes on for a while. Hal makes something for you to chase, you emerge from the dark just long enough to pull it in with you, and the process is rinse and repeat. Eventually, though, you come out of the shadows more and more, staying out of it longer and longer to chase around the conjured toys, until you're just tossing them into the shadows with gleeful little cheers.

"Got it!" You cry, jumping up to reach another one, this time shaped like an owl. You're panting from exertion and grinning widely at Hal, just standing and hugging it to your chest. "I win?"

"You win again," Hal agrees, expression painfully fond. He adores you wholeheartedly. "C'mere and get a victory hug, kid. Don't have any cookies on me, but we'll do a raincheck on that."

You go to him easily, practically collapsing in his lap, and rest your head against his chest while you idly pet the glowing owl toy. The area is bathed in dim green, enough to see each other without strain but still casting more than enough shadows for you to hide in again if you wanted.

"Fantastic job," Hal murmurs, kissing the top of your head. You nuzzle into his chest even more, hiding your face. "We definitely have to do that again some time. Don't you think?"

You start to nod, but the motion is jerky. You hesitate, then shrug, hugging the toy tighter.

"Oh, Mousey," he says, running his fingers through your hair. "You didn't think your powers would make Uncle Hal stop wanting to play with you, did ya?"

You slowly nod again, curling in on yourself.

"Well, that's just plain wrong. I love you, honey. Everybody loves you, y'know? You're smart, and adorable, and soooo much fun to be around," Hal insists, giving you a quick squeeze. Your mouth twitches like you're trying not to smile. "And it's gonna be way more fun now that you have cool shadow powers! Hide and seek might get a little challenging, but we'll make it work."

"...and Daddy?" You mutter. "Will he...want to play, too?"

"I know Daddy would love to play any game you wanted," Hal swore. "Daddy loves you more than anything in the whole wide world. And you know what else?"

"What?" You ask, lifting your head. You look at him with wide eyes and furrowed brows, hanging onto his every word.

"Sometimes Daddy makes mistakes. Like creating dumb rules he shoulda broke years ago."

You look away, snuggling further into Hal.

"What if...Daddy don't wanna break the rule?" You whisper.

Hal curls around you almost protectively, kissing your head again.

"Then he's a big, smelly dummy, and I'll take care of you instead," he promises. "You can live at my house, and I'll still bring you to the Watchtower to hang out with everyone and play games, and maybe, if you're extra good, I'll take you on vacation in outer space. I'll show you things you've never seen, like planets with four moons, and people as tall as skyscrapers, and space food that turns your hair all different colors. It'll explode your tiny head!"

"Nooo!" You giggle, grinning. "I don't want a exploded head!"

"Hmm...you drive a hard bargain kid," Hal says. "Okay, I won't give you explodey-head food. But only because you said so."

He lets you get your laughter out, then gently pats your back to regain your attention.

"I know you're very scared," he says, "but I promise this doesn't change the fact that you are so, so incredibly loved. I bet if you gave the others a chance, they'd be more than willing to prove it. Especially your dad."

You tighten your grip on the owl in your arms, bottom lip wobbling for a moment.

"Could you give him a chance, Mouse?" Hal asks. "If you don't want to, that's fine. We can work an arrangement out and always try again a different day. But I know he would be really, really excited to see you again."

You stare at Hal, face tight in contemplation. He waits patiently, continuing to rub small circles in your back.

His patience is rewarded when you bury your face in his chest again, nodding.

"Want daddy," you whisper. Hal settles you more securely in his arms and immediately rises to his feet, relishing the burst of satisfaction and relief in his chest.

He takes you back into the meeting room. Bruce immediately stands up from the table when he spots you curled up in Hal's embrace, hands twitching like he wants to hold you himself.

He moves with all the carefulness of someone approaching a wild animal. His face is uncharacteristically open, broadcasting his worry for you and relief that you're unharmed.

"Hi, sweet pea," Bruce mutters, silk-soft, and that's all it takes to make you start sobbing and reach for him. Your father doesn't hesitate, sweeping you up and giving assurance after assurance that you are just as treasured and loved as you've always been, that he is so happy to be your dad, that you belong in Gotham and that will never change no matter what.

The lockdown gets lifted from the Watchtower. Several heroes, after conveying their relief and gratitude over your safety, take their leave. Diana and Clark stay behind to apologize profusely, both to you and Bruce, for implying that you would ever be unwelcome in your own home just for being different. It's easy for you to forgive them, but Bruce is grinding his jaw a bit, so they excuse themselves for the night and take their leave.

"Well." Hal claps his hands together and yawns. "I'm ready for a drink and a bed. What do we say we hit the road, huh? C'mon, B, let's get Flittermouse back home. I've hit my daily quota for adventure."

Bruce nods, walking with you back to the Zeta tubes. You've already nodded off in his arms, drained from your stressful day.

"Thank you, Hal," he says, preparing to warp home. "Come by after the kids are in bed. Let me repay you properly."

"Y'know, normally I'd be all over that," Hal smirks, "but I'm seriously beat. Can I cash my reward in tomorrow?"

Bruce gives him a small smile. "Whenever you want. Come by anyway, if you like. We don't have to do anything."

"Yeah, okay. I'll see you later, then." Hal crosses his arms and relaxes against the corridor wall, smiling down at your dozing form. "You take care. Both of you."

Bruce thanks him again, disappearing in a flash of light. When Hal drops by later that evening, he finds his boyfriend asleep with you in his arms, clinging to his shirt and drooling on his chest as you coast peacefully in Dreamland.

Before joining the cuddle pile, he finds that sitting on the nightstand, written in a combination of pen and crayon, is a contract holding both yours and Bruce's signatures:

The rule against Metahumans in Gotham is hereby null and void forever and ever.

Signed by: Daddy & Mousey

[notjustjavierpena]

(Mid)summer Loving

Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: Yes, based on that new picture. I’ll call this my first contribution to getting railed in a sundress season. 

Summary: The last two years of being with Joel has transformed the both of you. Mostly him. For the better. 

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: +18 smut, joel’s kink is being loved and appreciated, long haired joel!!!, healthy joel, established relationship, piv sex, size kink (it's big), rough, loud and desperate sex, dirty talk, praise kink, creampie, railed in a sundress season contribution, they are so soft for each other, bit of aftercare. 

Word count: 3.1k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55988128

(Mid)summer Loving

It happens when you hear him through the crowd of people in the community center. Your head whips in his direction, your eyes settling on the crinkles around his eyes as he laughs at something Tommy has said to him. He swirls the whiskey in his glass and downs it with slight difficulty because he is still smiling. 

You are only a table away, sitting with some of the women from your patrol group who gossip about potential suitors in the room, especially amongst the newcomers. However, you don’t really pay attention to what is being said because the love of your life sits across from you. It makes you able to admire him, struck by his transformation since he first came to Jackson and barged into your life. Your heart is so soft for him. 

The most obvious change is the hair. It’s gotten longer, the ends curling slightly in a way that softens his otherwise rugged appearance of big leather boots and tripled layered clothing. He used to have it shorter, and while you loved its fluffy bounce on top of his head whenever it was caught in the wind, it doesn’t compare to how it now frames his face by just brushing his collar in the back. It may be a subtle shift to others but to you, it means that Joel is more at ease with who and where he is, and that he has allowed change to find him.

His beard, too, has filled out. It is now thick and even, not at all the patchy scruff that you noticed the first time he talked to you by the rag pile in the trading center. He’d searched for fabric that could be used for shining the creations that he makes when seeking respite in wood carving. You had noticed the patch that resembled a heart first, your own heart skipping a beat as you forced yourself not to point it out to him immediately. That patch is gone but you’ll spend no time mourning it when the result is Joel looking healthier than ever, almost as if his body has responded to happiness with you by filling in all the gaps that heartbreak had left. 

Then there’s his face. It glows, despite his age, with a newfound youth, the signs of weariness and stress of years lived too hard it once bore completely wiped away. When you first met him, your heart had ached for his tired eyes, bags underneath them revealing all the sleepless nights and the burdens that he carried. The way they shine when they look into yours has your heart at ease and you can only hope he feels the same. 

Around you, the women keep chatting, talking animatedly and giggling while you sip your drink and stay silent until they are nothing but a low hum in the background. 

You only snap out of it when your name is said out loud. You furrow your brow, “Sorry?”

“I said that you don’t have to worry about things like this,” one of them chirps happily, “You already got your man.”

“Guess not, guess you’re right,” you chuckle softly and start to feel shy. You have never been one to be glaringly obvious in your happiness to the point where you display it at every opportunity but then Joel came along. He may worry about the gap of years between the two of you, often feeling undeserving of your love and attention but you only wish that he could see himself from your point of view. To you, he is everything. He doesn’t see how his presence calms and grounds you, how he makes you feel safe even in a world beyond repair. In his embrace, you feel even the biggest of anxieties and the worst of your challenges shrink into nothing. All he has to do is put his gentle, calloused hands on you and talk to you in that familiar southern drawl, and then your mind quiets down instantaneously.

However, if not his hands or his voice, his loving gaze also seems to do the trick. He suddenly turns his head in your direction, catching your eyes, and the sound of the lively conversations from each table mutes to nothing. He smiles at you and mouths a ‘you okay?’ at you. 

‘Save me’ you decide to mouth back at him, making a face to see him smile with amusement. He slaps his brother’s back before putting both hands on the table to push himself to stand. You didn’t think he would take it seriously but just the sight of seeing him approach you makes you want to go home with him. 

“Ready to go, honey?” He asks when he reaches your table, placing a hand on your shoulder and gently squeezing. 

“Hi Joel,” your friend group says in unison.

“Ladies,” he nods and they giggle like schoolgirls, “Gotta get this one home.”

You shake your head with a little smile at their reaction. Then you swing your legs over the side of the chair. Joel helps you up and a moment after having said your goodnights, you leave together like you’ve done for a few years now. 

Outside, people are scattered across the town square where a huge bonfire has been erected in the spot where the Christmas tree usually stands. Today is the annual midsummer celebration. Jackson is decorated with bundles of flowers that have replaced the painted eggs that tell people it is Easter. You smile at the memory of Ellie having been forced to join in on getting people in the spirit of Easter which had resulted in you trying to guess which of the eggs hanging from the sky had been crafted by the angry teen. You had decided that it might’ve been the one painted completely black.

Now, bright colors from nature hover above your head instead as you make your way down the main road. Joel holds your hand all the way home. He strokes the back of it with his thumb, feeling no pressure to fill up the silence between you as it has reached a point where it is comfortable. 

When you reach your shared house, Joel stops you by the front door instead of opening it for you in the gentlemanly way he always does. He stands in front of you, the porch light softening his features as he gazes at you.

“You seemed a bit distracted with your friends tonight,” he notes, “Is everythin’ alright?” 

“Just thinking about how lucky I am,” you answer with a smile, your voice sincere, “To have you.”

“I’m the lucky one, baby,” Joel huffs out a little laugh of disbelief, trying to brush off how flattered he always feels each time you say things like this. He gathers your hand in both of his, lifting it to kiss the back of it a few times, “Best fuckin’ thing that ever happened after the world ended.” 

“Don’t let Ellie hear that,” you tease gently. In your chest, your heart hammers against your ribs from being loved by him. 

“I’d never dream of it,” he steps closer with his eyes burning to get closer to you. You see them darken slightly as desire fills them and your heart jumps into your throat at the realization of what he wants. 

You. 

He wants you. 

That’s the one thing that has also changed since you met him; he has become much more untameable when he has you around. Who knew that his stamina was so impressive? Who knew that Joel Miller getting a confession of love - whether it consisted of the actual words or simply was said in your actions - would have him dragging you to somewhere private as soon as possible? 

“I love you, Joel Miller,” you say dreamily, pulling the trigger, “To the day that I die.”

And then suddenly Joel rips the door open so roughly that you’re afraid it might come off its hinges, pulls you inside along with him and slams it shut behind the both of you afterward. He locks it without hesitation, not about to be interrupted by any of your neighbors even if it’s most likely that everyone is out and about the town to be social. 

You are pressed up against the door next, his broad hands resting on your hips as he holds you against it. He bunches up the skirt of your sundress, groping your sides on top of the fabric, and you sling an arm around his back. Your other arm reaches up so you can cup the back of his head, your fingers sliding into the hair there. He has the perfect length for pulling these days - you should know - but you’ll wait for the right moment. 

His lips nearly bruise yours with how hard he kisses you, beard scratching your skin as he practically eats at your mouth to the point where your head swims and your belly swirls with hours of suppressed desire. You need him now, already soaked through your underwear and ready for him to be inside of you.

“Fuck me,” you whine against his lips, heart beating rapidly in your chest. So much that your breathing is already uneven, “Please, Joel, please.”

“S’alright, baby, I know whatcha need,” he rasps as his lips messily start descending on your chin, all the way across your jaw until his mouth attaches to your throat. You let your head bump against the door with a breathy moan, giving him access to bruise your neck too. He creates a purple mark that you will try to hide tomorrow during patrol to avoid interrogation on how Joel Miller is in bed. Only you can know. 

Your skirt falls down the slight amount it has been pulled up when Joel goes to unbuckle his leather belt. The noise of the metal sends a shiver through you, anticipation rising to your cheeks by heating them up underneath no touch. You look down to see the belt hanging open, him shoving the denim down around his thighs afterward and following up with his briefs too. 

The sight of his cock makes your mouth water. He is fully hard already, standing into the air at full attention and threatening to smear your pretty dress with his precome by poking into your belly if he dares get closer. You moan pathetically and he shushes you gently. 

“I know, sweetheart, I know,” he soothes you like he would a child that has scraped their knee. He curls his fingers in the fabric of your dress once more before hiking it up along your thighs until he can stuff the bottom of the skirt into the top of your dress, effectively holding it up so it doesn’t fall down over your soaked panties again. 

You grab at the sides of your underwear to shimmy out of them but Joel doesn’t exercise enough patience to wait for you to step out of them, so he hooks his fingers into the front. He finds your eyes when he feels how wet the cotton fabric is, doesn’t directly say anything about it but just shows you how full-blown his pupils are at the realization. Without warning, he yanks your panties to the side. 

Satisfied with his work, he makes you gasp as he bends his knees to reach down and splay his strong hands on the back of your thighs. He lifts you off the ground and wraps you around him, pressing his knee into the door to hold you up while guiding his throbbing cock into you. You moan desperately at the initial sting, brows furrowing with slight pain as he sheaths himself inside of you to the hilt. 

“Oh my God,” you whimper, letting his name fall from your lips in a helpless chant as he pulses from how your walls choke him as you strain to take him like you always do in the beginning. He might just split you open right here in the hallway when he starts fucking you. 

“Shh, you can take it,” he whispers with the most brutally gentle peck on your zipped lips, “It’s okay. She knows it’s big, baby, but she can take it. I always fuck ya real good, don’t I?” 

You nod helplessly, and fuck you, he does. It’s fast and hard and dirty. The poor wooden door rattles alongside the jingle of his belt buckle with each slam of his hips, the doorknob painfully gnawing into your lower back, and you fear the fabric of your underwear will snap from the strain that is put on it as it sits to the side. Sometimes you think you might even cut a hole in some of your pairs with how often Joel, still two years later, rushes to get his cock into you. There’s something oddly satisfying and offensive about just being able to bend over and let him see that all he has to do is push in. 

“That’s it, look at me, baby, such a good girl f’me,” he praises to get you back to him, not here to lose your attention to the way his cock feels inside of your tight heat. Your eyes settle on him again, your mouth hanging open to elicit pathetic gasps each time he knocks the wind out of you by driving his hips up into you and effectively pounding your g-spot. His face is so close to you; you can feel his breath and share it with him, can study every little imperfection in the form of tiny scars and dark lines that you hadn’t been able to see earlier from your seat a few tables over. 

“Joel,” you pant, digging your heels into the small of his back, clinging on desperately and angling your hips as he has his way with you. The slight adjustment has him going deeper, touching something inside of you that ignites the first sparks of an orgasm. Your nails claw, dig and scratch at his back in ways that would have been enough to draw blood if he wasn’t wearing a shirt, “Fuck, baby! Don’t— ngh, don’t stop.”

“You feel so good,” he replies with a groan, most likely powering through the exhaustion and strain on his body to make you feel even better. He is everywhere on you, his hands on your thighs, gripping and squeezing. He is everywhere in you too, his cock twitching inside of you each time you cry his name.

“I’m—“ you sob.

“Let go, baby, I can feel ya,” he growls when you dance around the edge of your orgasm because your fingers on both hands tangle into his beautifully chocolate hair, yanking harshly as impending pleasure knocks the breath out of your lungs. Your skin burns, your whole system halts and goes into overdrive at the same time until all you can do is shout silently at the ceiling. Your walls clench in mind-altering ecstasy then and your quietness is over, replaced by a relieved whine as you come on his dick. It is intense from how fast you’ve gotten there since he entered you, your body writhing as it is held against the wall. He fucks you through it, has you wailing as he chases his own high. 

You cradle his head during his last few thrusts, feeling his damp breath against your shoulder as he buries himself inside of your spent cunt and comes hard. It feels so good when he groans as he fills you up, the sound vibrating through his entire body. You whimper at the ceiling with the way he pulses deliciously with each breathy moan until he has no more to give you. 

He leans all his weight into you as he comes down again, holding you in place with his chest against yours to make sure that you won’t fall down and drag him with you. He gives you a moment and places a string of lazy kisses on your lips until he slips out of you with a soft sound. 

Carefully, he places you back down on the floor and eyes you as he does it to be certain you won’t collapse. He moves off of you when it feels safe to do so. 

“I say it back?” He asks as he leans against the door with you. Automatically, you tilt your head towards him. He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, turning his head a second later to fully look at your disheveled state. You have a hand on your chest to calm your breathing but it still matches your fluttering heartbeat. He still aches between your legs.

You look back at him, awaiting his words with short breaths, “Say what?”

He makes a gesture to the both of you, “Before what we just did happened. I tell ya that I love you too?” 

“No?” Your reply is almost a question. 

“Shame on me,” he smiles and turns his whole body so that he faces you completely, shoulder against the door. His eyes soften as he reaches out, his hand gently cupping your cheek. The warmth of his touch is nice when the sweat has started to cool you down, and you lean into his palm, feeling the roughness of his calloused skin against you. 

“Shame on me, indeed,” he murmurs, eyes on your slightly open mouth, “Because I do love ya. More than I can understand sometimes.”

“You don’t have to say it back every time, Joel. I know,” you try to brush off how much your body and mind buzz at the same time. 

He shakes his head slightly, his eyes never leaving your mouth, “No, I do needa say it. You deserve to hear it. I love you.”

You nod and reach to hold his wrist when he leans in to press a gentle kiss to your open mouth. Just a few minutes ago, the now-careful hands had been rough on your skin and his words had dripped with sin.

“Now, how ‘bout I take you to bed?” He asks and pulls your dress’ skirt out of the top, watching it tumble down and fall back into place around your knees. 

While you wait for him to get dressed again, fatigue seems to finally have caught up with you because you feel like you might collapse in your hallway at that suggestion. When it’s safe to do so, you let yourself fall into his arms and he catches you without hesitation. 

He scoops you up, goes upstairs with you in his arms, undresses you, washes you down with a warm flannel, and gets you into bed. You curl up on your side and after a while, after hearing his boots come off and the shuffling of clothes, the bed dips from his weight. 

The warmth of his body against your back lulls you to sleep. Oh, how simply he loves you. Forever doesn’t seem like a lot to ask for.

.

.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

[supernatural-bias]

𝐑𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐦𝐥𝐲 𝐅𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐀𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐈𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐥 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

↳ warnings: alastor being a bit egotistical

↳ song: si j'étais blanche—joséphine baker

↳ notes: got any ideas for stuff i should do next? reblogs are appreciated

masterlist | commissions | carrd

• It wasn’t your fault you’ve always had a messed up sleep schedule

• Even while living, nighttime had never been able to tame you. It was just your luck that the habit carried on into hell. Figures that the world wouldn’t give you a break even in death

• You weren’t exactly an insomniac, per se. It was quite the opposite in fact. Just a simple case of falling victim to spontaneous naps in the most random of places. Yet never at night

• Narcoleptic & nocturnal were the terms that your friends used to use for you. With grins, they’d compared you to an owl; always up at night wandering aimlessly. Sometimes for days on end you’d carry on doing this and that, only to curl into a ball the next day and remain that way

• The habit never was anything more than a nuisance until you’d started living at the hotel. The place was just so big, with so many places for you to lie down before the thought of your bedroom even crossed your mind

• Angel Dust was the first person to find you passed out. He had been strolling into the kitchen, looking for something to consume that wasn’t drugs for once, when he spied you hunched over the counter snoring softly

• In your hand was a wooden spoon covered in a creamy batter of some sort, a bowl beneath it with the same concoction. Almost as if you had been making something before passing out

• Briefly checking his phone, the spider confirmed that it was only two in the afternoon, and approached you with a sly smile

• You were promptly startled awake by a loud shout directly next to your ear

• “I’m sorry—“ Angel laughed wildly as you fumed, not sounding sorry at all. “—but you should have seen your face.” He clutched his stomach as he fell into another laughing fit

• “Hey! Watch it!”

• He ducked with a frown as you sent the spoon flying at his head, just barely missing the porn star’s styled hair

• Everyone quickly made their own discovery about your weird sleeping habits soon after. Each in their own embarrassing ways

• Vaggie witnessed you lying on the stairs looking positively drained one morning, and Charlie even found you face first on the bar counter while Husk wiped away at a cocktail glass

• “Too much to drink?” She asked the cat, lifting up one of your arms between her thumb and forefinger carefully, almost as if you’d wake if she pressed to hard

• Husk laughed to himself at the question, remembering how he had turned to make you a shot before coming back to the sight before him now

• “Not exactly.” He huffed

• Perhaps best example of just how bad your timing was came in the form of an impromptu staff meeting

• Alastor had called everyone— more like demanded them —into the main parlor for an announcement one day. A mere week after the kitchen incident with Angel, in fact

• With a flourish of shadowy magic and a twirl of his hands, the overlord presented some sort of home made commercial on the age old TV the place had, looking very amused with himself as he did so

• You tried to pay attention, you really did. But at one point the actors and stray blood splatters started to look like the back of your eyelids

• By the time it was over, Alastor was tapping his fingers along the top of the picture box rhythmically while everyone looked at him with awkward smiles

• But you? Well—

• “So!” Alastor cheered with a cheesy grin as he spun on his heel. The rest of the members in the room watched him awkwardly, not noticing that your head had hit the back of the couch at a rough angle. “What do you all thi— are they asleep.”

• Static bled into the demons voice at an alarming rate as you let out a half jolt at the shift in mood, falling off the couch with a yelp in your wake

• You took a moment to swipe at your face wildly before blanching at Alastor towering over you nervously

• “Uh, my bad?”

• Alastor’s smile strained itself so thin, you thought it would split his face in half

• “Glad to know I’m keeping you entertained.” He all but laughed happily. But the white knuckled grip on his microphone told you otherwise

• You recall Charlie telling you something about ignorance being one of Alastor’s least favorite things. Especially when it came to his little spectacles

• “Maybe we’ve had enough peer feedback for today—“ Vaggie cut in cautiously

• “I concur.” Came your quick agreement

• You made sure to avoid Alastor for a few days after that

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐔𝐑𝐅𝐀𝐂𝐄

PAIRING: JACKSON!JOEL MILLER X FEMALE READER

RATING: EXPLICIT (18+ MDNI) | WORD COUNT: 1.5k

SUMMARY | Nowadays, he’s got the look of a man who’s discovered safety after survival, more life in his face, more weight on his bones. His hair has grown out, curling around his neck and more prominent streaks of gray at his temples and in his beard. This thing between the two of you remains undefined, comes and goes like waves crashing on a shore, but you’ll take what you can get because you’ve never been good about avoiding temptation.

AUTHOR’S NOTE | One glimpse of Pedro as Joel in the new season has turned me into a woman possessed. Thank you @undrthelights and @janaispunk for giving this a read for me 💕

ways to help palestine

WARNINGS | explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact), no use of y/n, porn without plot, mild angst, able bodied reader, no physical reader descriptions or age mentioned, jackson era, mentions of joel's weight (in the context of looking healthier in jackson), emotionally constipated joel, dirty talk, praise, pet names, kitchen sex, oral sex - f receiving (while standing), unprotected p in v, limited aftercare. let me know if i’ve missed any!

A noise breaks through your dreams, a loud banging that startles you from sleep and leaves you blinking at the ceiling. Thoughts still fuzzy, you stumble down the stairs and through your kitchen to the back door that rattles in its frame with each pound of a fist against it. You glance at the neon red numbers of the stove clock and at this hour, there can only be one culprit.

“Joel, what the fuck,” you groan, opening the door. “It’s two in the morning, what is wrong with you?” He doesn’t answer, simply shoulders past you and into your house. “Oh, sure come on in, make yourself—“

Your sarcastic remark is abruptly cut off by his lips crashing against yours, mouth hot and hungry as he skips any semblance of pleasantry and dives straight into carnal desire. His teeth graze your lip, the sting soothed by his tongue before it tangles with yours. Your fingers curl into his jacket sleeves, hanging on for dear life as he backs you into a wall, the two of you hitting one with a dull thump that disturbs the picture frames.

He shoves a knee between your thighs and pins you to the plaster, every sense invaded by him as he continues to consume you. When his mouth leaves yours and begins to leave hot kisses like brands across your neck, you finally find your voice again.

“Joel, what—“

“Shut up,” he grunts. You’re taken aback by the command and you have half a mind to smack him across the head for it, but he’s got his teeth on your earlobe and he adds, “I just, I need this, okay? Please?”

The fight leaves you in one fell swoop because you’d do anything for Joel if he just asks nicely. You nod and he returns to his task of turning you into a puddle with a single minded determination. When you start to rock your hips against his denim clad thigh in a desperate bid for friction, you feel, rather than see, the grin on his face.

“Mm, just as needy for me, ain’t you?” He teases. You frown.

“Don’t push your luck, Miller,” you snap. He laughs, a deep rumble that reminds you of the thunderstorms in the spring. “I can still kick you out of my house.”

“You won’t.” Confident, cocky, a man who knows he has you in the palm of his ridiculously skilled hands. “If you’d been smart, you would have kicked me out the first time. Now I’m just like a stray dog, ain’t gettin’ rid of me now.”

The first time, when he showed up in Jackson with a chip on his shoulder and a frown on his face. His hair had been shorter, his frame a bit smaller, his eyes a lot more vacant. He walked you home one night from the Tipsy Bison and when he kissed you under the glow of your porch light, his mouth tasted like whiskey, not unlike it does tonight.

Nowadays, he’s got the look of a man who’s discovered safety after survival, more life in his face, more weight on his bones. His hair has grown out, curling around his neck and more prominent streaks of gray at his temples and in his beard. This thing between the two of you remains undefined, comes and goes like waves crashing on a shore, but you’ll take what you can get because you’ve never been good about avoiding temptation.

While your thoughts drifted to the past, Joel has dropped to his knees and is curling his fingers into the elastic of your underwear, dragging the fabric down your thighs.

“In the kitchen? Really?” You huff. “There’s a perfectly good bedroom upstairs.”

“Too far,” he says, tossing your underwear aside.

Despite your complaints, there is something undeniably sexy about having Joel kneeling before you, impatient enough that he’ll take you right where you stand. He shuffles closer, lifts one of your legs over his shoulder and lavishes your clit with broad swipes of his tongue.

Your head drops back as you moan, your fingers tangling in his hair as he pulls out every trick in the book of your pleasure, alternating between fast circles and sucking the bundle of nerves between his lips. It’s not long before you’ve reached the precipice of your release, teetering on a razor thin edge before finally falling into oblivion with a gasp of his name. He groans against you as you come, waves of it rolling through you.

“So fuckin’ good,” he says as he pulls away. You look down at him with a half-lidded stare, his chin wet in the low light and his own gaze dark with lust. He stands, slowly, with a bit of a wince because of his bad knee that he tries to hide with a grin. “C’mere.”

You let him pull you away from the wall and into his arms where he kisses you, his lips and tongue drenched in your taste. He walks you back to your little kitchen table, kicking a chair out of the way so that he can turn you to face it, a palm between your shoulder blades urging you down until you’re bent over the wooden surface.

The clink of his belt buckle falling to the linoleum makes your muscles clench in anticipation. Joel’s palm smooths down your back, almost reverently, before reaching your ass and giving it a rough squeeze.

“You’re killin’ me, you know that?” He asks. You turn your head, glancing at him over your shoulder.

“Me? I’m not doing anything, I’m waiting for you to quit teasing.”

“That’s just it,” he says, sliding the head of his cock through your messy pussy before notching himself at your entrance. “You ain’t gotta do anythin’ except exist and you’ll drive me crazy.”

Any response you had dies a swift death as he presses inside of you, filling you in the most tortuous way. The ache of the stretch quickly fades as he bottoms out with a deep groan, his hands gripping your waist tight enough that you know you’ll feel the phantom sting of bruises in the morning. He sets a rough, demanding pace, the sound of skin against skin cacophonous in your little kitchen. You can’t hold back the noises of pleasure he wrings from you as he slams in deep with each thrust and pulls out so far that you’re practically empty before doing it over and over again.

“So fuckin’ gorgeous like this, so tight,” he grunts. You arch your back the slightest bit, changing the angle so that each drive of his cock drags against that spot inside of you that has you seeing stars and whimpering his name. “God, that’s it, sweetheart. Take it so pretty.”

“Joel,” you moan. “Please, please, please.”

“Beggin’ to come again?” He asks. “So greedy, ain’t that right?”

“Yes,” you sob. “Need to come, please, Joel!”

“I gotcha, baby.” His hand slips between your thighs and his fingers pinch your sensitive clit. “Come on, come on my cock so I can fill you up.”

It’s an empty threat, but one that works. Your muscles go tight with your second orgasm, your cunt pulsing around him as his thrusts grow erratic, uncoordinated as he chases his own high. He pulls out just seconds before making good on his word, painting your skin with warm release.

As you catch your breath, his warmth leaves your side. You vaguely register the sound of running water before a cold rag is wiping away the mess on your ass and cleaning up the slick between your thighs, the rough fabric over your sensitive flesh making you jump. Joel shushes you, another pass of his soothing palm down your back as he finishes wiping you clean.

You stand up straight on shaky legs and collapse in the chair that he’d kicked from the table to make room for your bodies. He’s already pulled his pants back up, the only evidence of your tryst in the sheen of sweat on his brow and his hair in disarray. His jaw grows tense as you watch him and he shoves his hands into his pockets, shifting his weight from foot to foot in the awkward aftermath.

“Thanks,” he says. “Needed that.”

“So you said,” you reply. “Did something happen?”

“Just some bullshit with Tommy.”

“Brother bullshit or town bullshit?”

“Bit of both.”

“Oh.”

He nods, glancing at the door. “I should get goin’.”

“Right.”

Joel doesn’t move for the door, though. No, he steps in close, taking your face in his warm hands and kissing you softly, gently, a wild juxtaposition to his earlier attentions. When he pulls away, you can’t help but reach up and smooth a thumb between his eyebrows, trying smooth the line of concern there.

“You don’t have to leave,” you whisper. You’ve said it before. You’ll say it again. You’ll keep saying it, until the ship that passes you in the night returns to your harbor.

“I do,” he replies, stepping back. You give him a tired smile.

Tonight isn’t that night.

Thank you for reading! Please consider reblogging or commenting if you enjoyed! You can find more of my writing below:

Joel Miller masterlist | All character masterlists

[dollzites]

⏦ﾟ♡︎ GDRAGON AS YOUR HUSBAND!

୨ৎ pairing: husband!jiyong x fem reader

୨ৎ genre: fluff! mild smut! & more fluff

୨ৎ from myeong: hi! thank you for requesting and I’ve been so excited to get this done for you! hope you can enjoy it x

ʚɞ GDRAGON VS JIYONG?

of course there’s a small difference here and there.. we are speaking about the gdragon himself! but he is still your caring, thoughtful, loving, affectionate, and kind man that you decided to marry hoping to spend the rest of your life with—which you will bc there is no way that he’s letting you go. never ever.

he’s the sweetest man. takes such good care of you and makes it his mission to get you whatever it is that you want or need—don’t even have to ask! if he knows you’re wanting something? you’ll have it.

will learn how to make your favorite dishes in an instant! say he’s not the best at cooking or maybe it’s just this particular meal? will go as far as taking a class just to learn how to make it the perfect way.

absolutely adores when you’re able to watch him on stage and no not just on the television he’ll want you at every concert or show he does. that’s when the king of k-pop comes out! but when the show is finished and his eyes find you? oh there is your cute and sweet jiyong again that’ll do anything for you.

a very touchy man he is—especially in the morning he’ll need to be wrapped around you. either his arm is wrapped around your waist or he’s got his arm wrapped around your shoulder pulling you closer to his warm chest, hearing the soft sound of his calm heartbeat that he always says “beats just for you.”

even when he’s in public with you and he is the gdragon himself.. he’s still your sweet husband and will always take care of you. he enjoys pushing his fingers through your hair and pulling you closer to him by your waist and looking down at you with a cute goofy smile on his face. nothing about this man changes just because you’re in public.

writes so many songs about you. the majority of them he won’t release and waits until he thinks they’re perfect to show you and he’ll call you into the studio for you to hear while you sit on his lap. he’ll stare up at you the whole time wanting to see your reaction and how you genuinely feel about it.

“what do you think, baby? I worked so hard on it and I just.. wanted to make it perfect for you—us.” his hand will be resting on your lower back and he’ll smile up at you from time to time just seeing how flustered you get from all of this. he loves that part.

not sure if this sounds weird! but I think it’s sweet and he’ll think it’s even sweeter but he enjoys slow dancing with you in the living room. picking out the perfect slow older korean song and grabbing you gently by the waist and slowly dancing with you even if you’re both not that good at it. it’ll be both a very romantic gesture and funny memory.

sometimes… you get gdragon in bed. he’s more rough with you but will always ask if this is okay first before he proceeds. sometimes he can’t help himself and craves you so badly that he becomes like a desperate animal in heat. his kisses are rough, hot, and messy against your lips while his hands roam your perfectly crafted body.

“fuck—you look so good underneath me like this. you always do.. such a perfect girl for me, hm? you like this don’t you? like it when I’m rough with you.”

he can go a few rounds. a few breaks in between to check on you and make sure you’re okay before he wants to go at it again. morning sex is also quite popular with him. he enjoys slow, romantic, and sweet morning sex. sometimes he’s a bit rough but he’ll apologize and ask if you’re doing okay.

you’re his passenger princess!! he’ll take you all over the place and rest his hand on your thigh, or grab at your hand and hold it like he’s never held it before and place soft pecks to your fingers. when stopped at stop lights he’ll take pictures of you before handing the phone over to you and asking to take pictures of him. he calls these ‘cute memories’

if you two get into an argument it won’t last. he doesn’t think it’s right to stay mad at you especially if the argument is such a petty one. he’ll break first and apologize and ask what he could do to make things better for the both of you. he enjoys being mature about it and handling things with care.

loves sharing his art with you and he eventually takes his art to another level and makes it all about you. pieces that he’s either worked on or just bought are strictly for you and he’ll wait for the perfect moment to show you and tell you about each piece and what it means for the both of you.

[noveauskull]

Bounty Hunting The Wrong Guy [NSFW]

characters: sylus x reader

warnings: 18+, smut, age gap (reader is 21 here), bounty hunter mc, it takes a while to get to the smut part, nipple teasing, punishment, swearing, fingering, clit teasing, piv (penetration), wrists bound (by evol), no protection, bratty reader (sort of)

-----

You let out a satisfied sigh when you plopped your body onto the wooden chair placed conveniently next to a table full of different weapons and devices you probably will have no need on using at the moment, staring at the unconcious white haired man in front of you that was tied down onto the other wooden chair in the room.

Without wasting a second, you stretched your right leg out to get a better grip onto the phone that was in your pocket, giving it a few taps to call a certain someone about your lucky find.

A few rings passed by and the person on the other end finally answers, you didn't waste a second to let them know that your end of the job was done and that you were ready to receive your pay, and next order.

"Hello?"

"Heyyy!! If it isn't my favorite-"

"Cut to the chase. You got the man or not?"

You let out another sigh, this time annoyed. No matter how good your mood is it'll always get ruined by something, or in this case, someone.

"Yeah yeah, your man's right here with me" You rolled your eyes, checking your nails to see if you had made any damage on them while trying to capture your target from earlier.

"Send proof"

You immediately brought the phone away from your hand to switch it into camera mode while the call was still on, taking a quick picture of the tall, muscular man with white hair and black clothes on, before clicking open an app to send the picture to the person on the other side.

"There. Jerk off to it." You muttered before putting the phone back to your ear, hearing only silence for a little bit.

The silence followed up with a few mumbles, it seems like there were other people other than the person who paid you to catch this person, and it looks like they had an issue with the image you sent them.

"...That's not him"

The other end spoke, and your eyebrows furrowed immediately. Not realizing you had uncrossed your legs as you leaned forward in disbelief.

"What do you mean? He perfectly fits the description you said. Tall, white hair, and can fight. He put up a great fight and he has white hair. With a vague description like that I have to earn something in return for being able to catch something like this!"

You raised your voice, but the person wasn't buying it. How were you even supposed to find a man when he wears a mask all the time?

"We asked you to find Lumiere, not the Leader of- Ah forget it. This never happened"

Your mouth dropped in disbelief. Instinctively your legs forced your body to jump right up, now you were pacing around the room with your hand to your head, you seriously fucked up this time.

And to add the fact that they mentioned, what? A leader? A leader of what exactly? Well it probably doesn't even matter since you were currently at N109 Zone. Everything here is dangerous and oh boy...

If you had caught the Leader of Onychinus that lives here at N109 Zone... No. There's no way you'd have easily caught him.

"Wait, wait! I'll do it again, I'll toss this guy on the streets and get you the guy you want okay! If you could just find more intel on him-" You desperately tried to reason with them, but it didn't matter, their mind was set.

"The deal is off, girl. Whatever you do with the guy you have there is not our business. Goodbye"

Before you could talk them out of it any further, they hung up on you. However you were stubborn and you sent them a few texts, but it seemed like they had already blocked you.

"Fuck!" You cussed. Throwing your phone onto the worn out couch that was on the other end of the room. Usually you were very good at what you do, but it seems like making a few mistakes could happen as well.

The entire time you were freaking out and pacing around your room thinking of what to do next, you didn't realize that the man you had handcuffed onto the chair had been awake the moment you called your client.

He was kind enough to listen to what your true intentions were before he made a move on you, so when it was clear that you got the wrong man, he let you have your moment of distress before he decided to do anything else.

You didn't have the energy to drag the heavy man all the way out at the moment. Right now you needed a drink, a strong one at that. You'll deal with this man on another day, but not today.

Just when you were about to open the doors leading to another room, you found yourself struggling to create a gap on the two gigantic thick pieces of wood. A frown stronger than before engulfs your face as you tsked.

"What the-"

You were cut off when you heard a click behind you. Without wasting a second you turned your head to face the white haired man that was supposed to be unconcious on the chair, but instead you found him standing right in front of you.

Before you could lift your hand to attack him, he had your hands pinned onto the door with a dark red mist, almost resembling the color of blood, you were going to use your legs next, but they were also useless as they remained stuck.

"Shit!" You cussed under your breath, things were starting to get really dangerous. But you tried to remain calm, since you always knew how to get yourself out of situations like these.

"Wrong guy, huh?" The white haired man raised his eyebrow at you. His hands shoved into his pockets as he looked down to meet his eyes with yours, you felt mocked. But you weren't gonna give in.

"Heh yeah... Bummer"

You awkwardly laughed, trying to find a way to escape. Eyes darting around the room to find something that would help. But your search was futile when his hand grabbed your face and turned it to face him, your wide eyes locked in with his crimson ones.

"There's no use finding an escape, kitten. You're stuck here with me until I decide to let you go" His deep yet dominating voice calmly said, the sudden nickname he gave you made you furrow your eyebrows.

"Until you decide to let me go? Oh hell nah"

You shook your head to release the grip on your face, you were planning on acting like a small fry and crawl your way out, but something about being looked down on bothered you, and you just had to say something about it.

"Listen man, I don't know who you are, but I admit this whole thing was my fault, okay? If you need something to compensate for whatever loss you had I'll give it, just name your price"

In a strong yet calm manner, you bribed the man in front of you in an attempt to free yourself, but once again, like deja vu, he wasn't buying it.

"I don't think so"

You heard him answer before your entire vision is covered in red and black, few feathers can be seen swishing around before the dirty and worn out room you were at was replaced with an extravagant one with a dark aesthetic. A bedroom to be exact.

Your eyes widened in shock, frantically letting your head move left and right in disbelief. Did you just teleport?

"What the hell..." You whispered, not releasing that your hands were bound behind you now.

You had no idea that evols could teleport, or maybe that was this guy's whole shtick, either way, right now wasn't the time to be impressed.

Before you could ask why you were brought into a bedroom, a large hand wrapped itself around your left arm and pulled you toward the bed, gently yet strong enough to toss you onto the bed, the sudden gesture made you immediately go to defense mode.

"Hey man what gives-" You yelled, but the moment you turned your head you were an inch away from the white haired man's face.

You didn't realize this before because of how stressed out you were but, he was very attractive.

"A little kitten decided to pull me out from a very important meeting, I would just give that kitten a little flick on the forehead and be on my way, but to know that I wasn't even the kitten's main target is a bit annoying"

He said, each word he spoke made you feel his hot breath on your lips, but you had to stay focused and get out.

"W-Why's that?" You slightly furrowed your eyebrows once more, trying to mask your awareness with an innocent confused look.

"Because I can't kill it without a reason" He concluded. The red gleam in his eyes made you shudder, the bloodlust was there alright.

You still didn't know who this man was, however. So as if the threat didn't happen, you audaciously decided to open your mouth to ask.

"By the way, who even are you?"

You had no idea your tone was so mocking as to how curious you were, you watched as the man had a lost expression on his face, it didn't show shock, but he was definitely taken back by your question.

"...How old are you?" He answered back with a question completely irrelevant to yours, but you answered him anways.

"21, why?" You watched him scoff.

"The way you behave is like a child" You weren't exactly phased by his words, cause you were too busy figuring out how to release yourself from the evol that was holding you in place.

Your silence hinted the man that your focus was on something else, and that bothered him. So to grab your attention he sat himself of the bed and lifted you up, now you were suddenly sitting on his lap, back facing him.

"Woah!" You exclaimed, out of everything you thought of you weren't expecting him to lift you up like nothing and have you sat on his lap.

Oh, it kinda feels comfy...

You thought, snapping yourself out of it when you remembered the situation you were in.

No wait! I gotta lock in!

"H-Hey what are you doing, man!?" You yelled, turning your head to eye the intimidating man who smirked at you.

"You don't think you can just leave after putting me in such a sorry state without compensation, do you?"

Your eyes widened at his words, suddenly a shiver ran down your spine. It seemed like the fear hasn't kicked in until now. In response to his question that wasn't particularly seeking a response, you gulped.

"I-I told you I'll do something as an apology earlier..." You said in a quiet tone, almost mumbling, but still audible.

"I rather not wait. I'm not a patient man"

You felt his large hands wrap itself around your torso, holding you still as you felt something hard poke your ass. You stared into the distance with wide eyes, almost like you were in daze before unconciously muttering the words-

"What the fuck"

"It looks like compensation won't be the only thing I need to gain tonight, but also a lesson for that mouth of yours" He whispered into your ear, you felt your face heating up from the sudden intimacy.

You didn't want to admit it, but you were excited.

You remained silent, waiting to see what his next move was. You were too busy suppressing how you felt to notice his hands moving under your clothes to feel your bare skin, until you felt his cold fingertips. Making you flinch and your breath hitch.

"Sylus..." He whispered.

"...What?"

"I'm Sylus"

You felt your face crumble in shock. Suddenly freezing before struggling to look back at the man slowly. You heard about him so many times before ever since you came to N109 Zone. There's even posters about him throwing in high prices if he was captured.

It was stupid that your client didn't accepted Sylus, because he was probably worth more than Lumiere. But even if they did wanted Sylus, you'd probably still end up in the same situation as you are now.

"...Fuck" Like a machine that reacts through cuss words, you swore under your breath. Watching the man himself, Sylus tilt his head at you with a raised eyebrow.

"...Fine, make it quick" You concluded. You decided to get over with whatever he wanted. Knowing that running away was futile now that you knew who he was. Totally not because you wanted to spend some time with the attractive older male.

"...I like your confidence" He smirked, his hands now actively trailing upward to lift your bra upwards under your clothes, his fingers brushing against your nipples, the unexpected gesture made you close your eyes on instinct, biting your lower lip.

You felt his fingers circle around your areolas, you could tell he was playing with you, and with the pride you had that bothered you. But you can't help but stay quiet and let him touch you the way he pleased, something about his touch was making you lose all reason.

Not realizing that you were squirming the entire time, you heard him groan behind you as you unconciously wanted to feel his clothed dick on your swollen clit, being the one in control, he noticed your needs.

"Don't move, or else I'll be getting more than a compensation from you" He warned.

"Tsk! Then hurry up, old man!" You groaned impatiently, face red from having your nipples touched bare by someone else other than you.

You didn't realize that your words would cost you when his right hand suddenly went from your breast to slipping down your pants in one swift move, making you attempt to move away from his hand like an idiot.

"W-What are you-?!"

"You want me to hurry up right? Then I will do just that" He said calmly, rubbing your clothed cunt to feel your juices soak your underwear. It felt uncomfortable and dirty, yet you can't help but shiver in excitement.

Sylus used his fingers to rub around your clit too. Letting the wetness rub against it so that teasing you would affect you more than it should, also to rile up my reactions from you.

You huffed when you felt him playing with your nipple with one hand, and the other rubbing on your clothed pussy. It felt good, but it wasn't enough, you were starting to wonder what kind of compensation Onychinus' Leader was even looking for at this point.

"S-Shit" You groaned, feeling impatient of having your body played around with no sight of release soon.

"Swearing again? You really are looking for some sort of punishment" It seemed like Sylus didn't like your sharp mouth, so he decided to give you something to learn to not do it again.

You had to hold back a whine when he suddenly removed his hand from your throbbing cunt, only to put it back in again, this time directly without having your underwear act as a barrier.

The bare feeling of his fingers on your wet clit made you roll your eyes back in satisfaction, finally getting the stimulation you've been eagerly wanting the entire time.

"Mmph! A-Ah there!"

You shamelessly moaned, thrusting your hips against his fingers to feel them rub against your small and swollen clit, just a few strokes and you'll finally get the release you've been wanting.

"So naughty" Sylus whispered into your ear, connecting his lips onto your neck and giving it a suck, letting his teeth add onto the friction to distract you from the pleasure you were getting from your cunt and nipple.

"I wanna cum!! H-Hurry up!!" You demanded, although Sylus found your tough personality endearing, he won't stand for being ordered around by someone as small as you.

"And what makes you think you deserve release so early? You need to learn your place, sweetie" His voice deepened as he warned, your eyes widened when his finger suddenly dragged itself down to your hole.

Before you could react, he already pushed one finger in, like he knew you already, his finger found it's way onto your sweet spot. You had to let out a gasp before moaning nonstop, feeling his finger continuously poke onto the same spot until your orgasm neared.

"N-No- Wait! P-Pleas- A-Ah!"

You threw your head back when he added another finger, tears forming in your eyes that you never thought would be from the pleasure you were getting, the orgasm you were going to have was being forced out of you without a second thought, you almost lost yourself in what the main goal was.

Right when you felt like you were inching towards cumming, Sylus removed his fingers from your hole that was now clenching around the air, hoping for something to substitute the painful arousal that was pooling out of it.

"Ah ah ah, bad kittens don't get their fill yet" He teased, you felt your vision turning foggy from the desperation creeping onto you. You almost forgot your hands were rendered useless at the moment because you still weren't free.

"C-Come on..." You whispered, almost in defeat. Your voice hinting a strong sense of desperation, almost making you sound cute.

"Don't worry, I'm not done yet"

Sylus reassured you, using his evol to pull your pants down along with your underwear, the action didn't make you notice he had lowered his own pants as well, releasing his hard veiny cock that was almost as large as a shampoo bottle.

"If you take this, then I'll accept your compensation and let you go" He rubbed his cock against your entrance, you couldn't see his length properly, but a few rubs and a very visible vein was enough to give you a shock.

"W-Wait that's way too big, I-I can't-"

"You can and you will. Or do you want to compensate me with your life?" He said, he wasn't serious. But how would you know? You're too drunk off your mind to think.

"..." You pressed your lips into a thin line, shutting yourself up from protesting any further.

"Good girl"

Sylus gently laid you down on the bed, your hands that were bound behind you now in front, as well as you having a better look of his cock. It was big enough to reach his belly button, and that intimidated you greatly, yet you couldn't wait to find out what it was like to have your gushing hole get plugged by it.

"Don't struggle" Was all the white haired man said before he started teasing his tip onto your hole, slowly pushing himself in as he watched your juices gush out of your hole to make room for his cock.

"A-AH! T-Too much!!" You whined, but Sylus believed you were stronger than that.

"I'm not even halfway in. But if it's too much for you i'll stop. Though I expected a bounty hunter to be more tougher than this" He mocked, watching your face glare at him.

"B-Bring it on, old man!! I'm no pussy!" You retorted, to which he chuckled at you.

"Good to hear"

He gave another push into your hole, you were sure with this one he was definitely more than halfway in. The feeling of his cock stretching into you while pushing onto your cervix made you cry in a manner you would have never thought you could do.

"O-Oh fuck!!" You exclaimed, having tears well up in your eyes again.

"Tsk, that mouth needs more than a lesson" Sylus tsked, before grabbing your face to kiss him, with no warning he had his tongue distracting you from the mix of pain and pleasure you were receiving.

His kiss was rough, yet so comforting. He made sure not an inch of your mouth was neglected before he started thrusting in and out of you.

You couldn't help but moan into his mouth with your eyes rolled back, right away with a few thrusts you could feel your orgasm that was denied earlier finding it's way back, and it was dangerously close too.

"M-Mmphh!!" You started becoming more aware of the smooching noises and squelches your mouth and hole was making, but everytime you tried to listen you'd be distracted by the loud slaps of Sylus' cock onto your pussy continuously.

Each time he hits the right spots you can't help but keep your eyes hung at the roof of your head, crying into the hungry kisses Sylus gave you to make your hole clamp down his dick.

Before you could even realize it, your orgasm finally arrived. Leaving you a moaning mess crying from stimulation. Also letting Sylus finally break the kiss between you two to relieve himself.

"A-Almost there" Sylus muttered in gritted teeth, not stopping for a second to chase his own ejaculation into your cunt while you helplessly laid on the bed, taking in his length continuously with every broken moan that left your mouth.

In a groan, Sylus let himself cum into your gushing wet hole that soaked the bedsheets, giving your forehead a small kiss before finally releasing your wrists and pulling out if you to let his cum spill out your twitching hole.

You could leave right now, but after having your hole destroyed and throbbing, you couldn't even sit up if you wanted to. The white haired man that was now lying beside you knew it all too well.

"Am I... *huff* ...free from... *pant*... compensating... ah.... you now...?" You said in between pants, your voice cracking from how hard you cried, your little attempt to speak made Sylus smile at you, hand on his head as he stared at you like he adored you.

"Hmm... No"

Your mouth dropped in disbelief, snapping your neck to look at the smirking white haired man.

"Perhaps I need to be compensated a few more times, only once isn't enough"

He wrapped his arms to hold you close to him, now your eyes were locked onto his chest, as he rested his chin onto your head while you remained speechless.

It looks like you got yourself in real big trouble with the one man you tried to avoid the entire time bounty hunting...

Onychinus' Leader Sylus.

-----

A/N: GUESS WHO CAME BACK W A NEW SMUT ONESHOT? thats right, i know i usually only do WUWA smut but i did mention I play LADS and oml... SYLUS...

PLEASE PUT ME ON A CHOKEHOLD SIR I AM YOURSSSS

ZAYNE PLEASE DON'T MISUNDERSTAND I LOVE YOU OKAY 😭😭😭

anyways enjoy your meals ✨️✨️✨️😋

[aliceinborderlandsquidgame]

Kitten | The Salesman x Fem!Reader

Summary: Something about you catchs his eyes. Now he wants you all for himself.

Warnings: Obsess!Salesman - Canon violence - Suggestive - Manipulation - Reader loves cats - Maybe OOC - Kind of pet play - E/C = eye color - Reader gets called Kitten -

Another morning, another day ahead, names to meet and recruit, a speech that was deep in his mind.

His movements were calculated, robotic, his smile a fake one, to hide the disgust he felt towards the peopel he had to met.

The last hour, the last train and last name. Your name. The Salesman did his usual thing while waiting for you to appear, get himself a coffee from a cheap machine and let his mind wonder.

Even if he had read your file in order to have the upper hand in the exchange, he was curious to see how you truly were, how would you react to his approach, what would you say or do once he told you about the game.

Maybe the work of the day was getting him, his eyes did let (only for the observant ones) that he was tired to not degree.

One more, one more worm and I can go home.

The train came, lots of faces walked pass him, he only wanted to find yours and put an end to his day.

Finally He saw you, you were looking at your phone, smiling? Well he guessed even someone in your situation could smile.

Maybe you got a lover back home.

He saw how you took a seat, most likely to rest after a long day at your underpaid work, that did not cover any of the debts you had. Yet you did not look discouraged or sad, you were rather animated by what your body language gave out.

Feets moving side to side like a song was playing only for you. That smile and a spark in your eyes...

How dumb yet cute.

Still, he needed to end the day and your name was the last one. So there he went, moving with confidence till he took a seat besides you, his trusted briefcase close.

"Miss.." He tried to get your attention but nothing, you were too deep in your phone writing something. He dared to take a look.

What in-

Cats. Multiple pictures of cats. Different colors, shapes and ages.

It was not the most strange thing he had seen from someones phone but still...

A new photo came in, it was a cat, rather slim with one leg missing but it seemed full of life.

"Im glad you are fine" He hear your whisper thanks to the sitation now out of peopel and that even if you whispered it was rather loud. Most likely you had no sense of self preservation or did check your surroundings since he was able to basically see your phone screen and your messages for...four minutes?

Yes, defently too much for the little patience he had, he wanted to end his day now.

"Excusme Miss" He tried again this time louder and it did finally caught your attention.

You turned to him, too lost checking your cats and how they were doing so far. You never noticed the man besides you. He was tall, black hair and wearing a suit. You could tell it was a rather expensive one, at his feets was a briefcase.

Ah Salesman, he must sells life saves or something.

"Sorry Sir, im in no position to buy anything" You said looking at his dark eyes and bowing then you went back to check your phone.

Well someone ignoring him was not a first.

"Miss, im not here to sell you anything" He started getting your attention back with a rather funny and confused look on your face. "Im here to ask you to play a game with me"

"...A game?" You asked not really beliving your ears. What man would ask a stranger to play a game with them at 11 p.m. in a subway station?

Was this a scam ? A trap maybe ?

Ah, the confusion, he was used to get that too and could only give you a polite fake smile back.

"Yes a game, a game of ddakji" He clarifited pulling from his suit pocket two papper pieces, one blue and other red. "If you manage to win I will give you ₩100.000" He recite just as he always did.

Your eyes opened a bit after that information, while it would not help you that much it would be free money...you could get a warm dinner, something that your current situation did not let you do.

But, there was not a thing as simple as free money, right ? There must be a catch.

"And what would happen if I lose?" You asked him, the hesitation in your voice was clear for The Salesman who just smiled again.

"If you lose, you pay me back ₩100,00. But I doubt you will lose in a childs game" He added trying to incite you to engage in the game.

He studied your face, you were thinking about it, temped by it. Even if the money was not enough, the chance was all it needed to start a chain of thoughts in your mind and finally accept.

And while you were indeed thinking a ring from your phone took your attention away, a new message a new cat pic.

Right, I cant do this. You thought.

"Sorry Sir I must refuse" You started giving him a bow "Even if my chances of winning were high, Im not in position to give you ₩100,000 if I lose. It would not be fair to you" You smiled at him thinking all of this was ending.

He blinked a bit taken back, not because you refused, he had deal with that before, but what you said.

Fair.

The world was not fair. The information in your file let that clear, it was obvious that you knew it.

Then why not take advantage of this? Even If he was just giving you the illusion of money, why not try ? And more, why be worried over whats fair ?

"May I ask why you cant play with me?" He finally said, pulling the pappers back inside his suit pocket. "Its not a big amount of money and I would not make fun of you if you lose"

He was trying for you to feel safe, maybe you were nervous he would judge you ? He knew he could be quiet intimidating

"Oh! Well its rather...embarrassing" You responded, nervously biting your lower lip then looking at the ground.

The Salesman's eyes lingered over your lips, the way you just bite them. Maybe he was getting tired but something from that action  just called him, made his body react.

"It cant be that bad" He tried again, trying to sound gentle

"Well, im in debt because my ex-boyfriend ran away with the money for the Cat Shelter we had together, took away all my savings and I ended in debt cause of it" Your tone did let him know you were angry, sad, frustrated and ashamed.

Well, he did know. But hearing out loud did make it sound funnier he could not lie to himself.

But seeing your face now, that sad look and how you had looked so happy earlier at the cat pics (probably some cats you managed to save and find a home before all things went wrong). It made him feel bad for you, something he never felt towards anyone in his line of work.

"Mhm so your ex-boyfriend ran away and then you kept the shelter by yourself?"

He cant lie, it was a cute reason.

But stupid no less.

"I did, we had too many cats and all of them were sick. They needed someone, I could not ignore them" You tried to explain, a sad smile now on your face as you remember the old promises and memories.

And look where that took you.

"I dont hope that you get it, most peopel laughts when I tell them. Even the load sharks had got a good one" You said pulling out your phone and looking at something while the Salesman let his mind wonder.

You were right. He did not get it. It was something he would never do, an act so compassionate towards a creature...it was not in his nature.

"Look, this is Fat Luigi" He hear you said as you showed him your phone with the image of a big fluffy black cat. "When we first got him he was underwheight, most vets told us he would not make it. It was hard, I passed many nights awake taking care of him, and spent lots of money on him. But now seeing him healthy and happy, it just makes it worth it"

"But are you happy right now? Arent you afraid of your debts?" He asked, curious to know how your brain was working under the stress you most likely had.

"Happy...., well I cant say I love my life right now, I work long hours and the job its bad, I have load sharks on my back and the place where the shelter is will most likely be destroyed since I cant pay..."

He nodded listening to you.

"But im not sad. Yes the situation sucks but when i see the cats i managed to help...honestly even if it sounds crazy, I would do it again" You ended giving him a tired yet honest smile. One that made his heart beat a bit faster.

For a few moments he did not say a thing, his mind wondering, he was not sure what, something about you made him feel slighty different.

Maybe it was your wish to help ? Even when you had passed and suffered ? How you still wanted to play fair ?

You two were different in many ways.

"You would?" He asked seeing you nodd without thinking "And tell me, do I look like a cat person ? Would you get me one if you still had your shelter ?" He continued now trying to entertain himself.

You defenetly were not made for the games.

"Well, you do give the energy of a cat person" By the look on his face he was amused "I mean, you seem like you pass many hours outside your home, cats do need their humans but they can work fine alone for a few hours, you would need to pet them for a bit once you get back"

"Oh I see, and what more?" He leaned in closer, his elbow resting on his knee, one hand holding his face as he turned himself to you invading your personal space.

"You seem like someone who will prefer company thats not always over them demanding attention and cats often give you that, well depends on the cat" You explained blushing at his proximity.

"Then, dont you think it would be better for me to get a kitten?"

"They can be handfull-"

"Mhm, I would need a submissive one" He said leaning even closer, you could now see his dark eyes and smell his cologne. "One that will wait for me at home and will...please me when I want it and how I want it"

His hand went towards your face slowly touching your cheeck with his knuckles, it made you blush even more and be more aware of him. Something was telling you that this was dangerous, this man who had approach you, and yet you could not get yourself to move.

"Maybe a kitten with (E/C), a bit dumb, stupid, has no sense of self preservation, needs help to do anything. But" He paused his eyes studying your face "But its also cute, on its way"

You did not respond. Mouth dry, your mind worked around his cryptid words. Was him...insinuating something?

"How big its your debt?" He asked keeping the small distance.

"Too big" you responded your voice letting out how nervous you were. It was a miracle you managed to get these words out.

He smirked, he knew the exact number and also, he loved knowing he was the one causing you to feel nervous, maybe you were scared?

The idea that he could be scaring you excited him.

"Tell you what, I will pay your debt" He saw the suprise in your face and disbelief  was impossible to hide "But, you must pay me back" He added moving his hand, his thumb now over your lower lip. "You can pay me with your body, I said I should get a kitten right? I believe you are perfect for that position. All you will have to do.." He trailed off forcing his thumb inside your mouth "Its obey me, when I tell you to do something I expect you to obey. If you dont behave, well lets say I can be very creative with my punishments"

He could see the terror in your eyes but also the combination of hope and arousment.

Sick cute thing, just what he needed

"Mhm, lets give it a try shall we? Suck my thumb like a good kitten, I want to see how well you can obey"

Timidly under his dark stare and big pupils your tongue touched his thumb, a shiver went down his spine as he felt it. Your wet tongue licking his finger trying to give it as much attention as you could.

The Salesman moved it around your tongue, almost groaning when he saw you close your eyes and use one hand to take his arm, like you were grounding yourself. He felt a bulge starting to form and couldn't wait to see how wet you were getting.

Abruptly he took off his finger from your mouth taking your neck and kissing you, it was demanding and not loving. He sucked on your lower lip till you moaned and he used this chance to push his tongue into you, caressing yours and sucking it. Needing to hear you moan one more time for him.

What came first were the sounds of steps, The Salesman separated, breathing hard, just like you. Your face was red and eyes wide open and also full with lust. He moved his hair giving you a twisted smile getting up and taking your hand.

"W-wait were are we going?" You asked at him confused by all of the exchange, "Will you really pay my debt?"

"Oh I will my kitten, you will have your loved shelter back and will be able to rescue all the dam cats in Seoul" He said opening the bathroom of the sitation checking that it was empy.

"But first, I need you to take care of something" He said pointing at the bulge between his legs.

He did not miss how you licked your lips.

"Dont worry, I will get you a collar later, now. Get on your knees and show me just how well you can suck, kitten"