#Old West Motel | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

sacr1ficialang3l · 25 days ago

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Somewhere in the thoroughfare˚୨୧⋆｡

OLDER!DEAN WINCHESTER X YOUNGER!READER

SUMMARY: Dean and reader embark on a journey to see the west. They drive for hours upon hours, but reader knows the perfect way to distract Dean for a while. 2.9k

WARNINGS: smut (MDNI). oral m receiving. getting a blow job while driving. do not try this at home kids. age gap.

NOTES: Daddy is back! It took me a long time because I haven't been very inspired lately, sorry I disappeared for a bit. I am still not an expert in writing smut, I will learn one day I promise. Anyway, another one of my little self-indulgent fantasies for you all. As always, English is not my first language. Enjoy<3

Summer this year was hot and sticky, all humid air and warm sunlight.

It had been miraculously quiet in the supernatural world for the past few weeks, and Dean decided it was the perfect time to take his pretty girl for vacation. He had noticed that you were a little down lately, a little less smiley and your eyes a little less sparkly. You were good at hiding it, but Dean knew that the hunting life was hard on you sometimes. He had gotten used to it after so many years, barely feeling the ache in his bones and the weight on his shoulders anymore, but when he held you in his arms while you cried your pretty eyes out one night, he decided you two needed a break.

He got his credit card ready, picturing five-star hotels and bustling city nights. He was even willing to board a plane just for you. Anything for his sweet girl. So one night, when he was letting you talk about your favorite pop artists—

"So, this Taylor Swift album–"

"Oh, please. Don’t torture me like this, princess. I swear music died in the '90s."

"Shut up and listen, old man. Let me introduce you to peak lyricism."

He interrupts you and explains his plan, asking you to choose any destination.

Imagine his surprise when instead of asking for anything he thought, you chose a road trip.

“Really, sweetheart? All we do is be on the road.”

“I know, but never without the burden of hunting. I wanna drive around with you, no guns or monsters, just us and your other baby.”

“Aren’t you tired of it? Don’t get me wrong, I am thrilled not to get into a plane, but this is for you. We can go anywhere you want, baby.”

“I could never get tired of it. In your car, with all of your dumb luck, is the only place I’ll ever wanna be.”

Dean stares at you for a long moment, eyes a little clouded with something intense, something that makes your insides burn.

“How can you be so perfect?” that makes you giggle, biting your lip and looking up at your boyfriend. “So, where are we going, love?”

“I don’t really care as long as you're with me.”

“Come on. There must be somewhere you wanna go, anywhere.”

“What about Oregon? Oh, but I would also love to drive down Big Sur with you. But what about–”

You were interrupted by Dean’s gruff laughter.

“I think I get the point. We have no time limit, I know how we can visit all the places you want.”

Dean grabbed your waist and pulled you on top of him, letting his hands –so callused from his pistol– brush down your lower back as he pulled you as close as possible.

“Come see the west with me, sweetheart.”

You are somewhere in north Oregon, almost in Washington. You had tried to convince Dean to take you to Forks, but the moment the word Twilight came out of your mouth he refused. (He ends up driving you there a week later, begrudgingly letting you take the aux and play Paramore the whole time you are in there.)

It is one week into your vacation, and the summer heat has only gotten worse. You and Dean are driving down a lonely road towards a little cabin you rented—it was in the middle of the woods and looked extremely homey. You were thrilled when you found it, even though explaining to Dean how Airbnb worked was an ordeal, considering he had only ever stayed in shitty motels without ever making a reservation or entering credit cards in some website.— You are planning to stay there for at least a week before resuming your journey to California.

So right now, you two are surrounded only by the trees, the setting sun, and the extremely hot air. The wind through the window is thick and muggy, clinging to your skin as you rest across the front seat of the Impala. Your socked feet dig into Dean’s thigh, and your head dangles out the window, hair catching the breeze, whipping gently around your face. Your eyes are closed while you tap your hand against your bare leg along with the beat of one of Dean’s rock songs, enjoying the way one of his hands is wrapped around your ankle.

You still find it astonishing that even in this weather, Dean is wearing his usual jeans and black shirt. At least you had convinced him to drop the flannel. You are the complete opposite, dressed in short shorts that barely hit your upper thigh and a white tank top with no bra on. You told him it was because wearing one made you sweat more when he asked, but the truth is that you liked the way Dean stared at the outline of your nipple piercings through the thin material of your almost translucent top, eyes hungry and feral.

You tilt your head up to look at your boyfriend when he starts singing along, his voice barely audible over the wind on your ears. There he is, knowing every lyric of a song released many years before you were born, his crow's feet even more pronounced as a relaxed smile settled on his face, the rough skin of his fingers brushing up and down your calf.

He catches you looking at him, and he gives you one of his signature smug grins.

“See something you like, sweetheart?”

“Oh, definitely.” You say flirtily, pulling your head back inside of the car and half-closing your window to eliminate some of the whistling.

Dean chuckles, and once again, you’re struck by how incredibly handsome he is. His elbow rests casually on the edge of his open window as he grips the steering wheel with ease. The setting sun casts a warm glow over him, making his green eyes practically glow. The veins on his forearms stand out, and the black shirt clings tightly to his chest and biceps.

At the end of the day, you are just a girl, so you lean forward and sink your teeth into the strong muscle of his arm. God, it was so big, almost as big as your head. Dean hisses a bit at the pain but doesn’t pull away, too used to your shenanigans.

“Is this what vampire movies did to your generation?” He grumbles when you let go of his flesh, but his expression softens when he hears you giggle while you admire your work.

There’s a deep set of teeth marks on his bicep—a perfect imprint of your canines. He pretended to be annoyed when you bit him, but he actually relished in bearing your mark. Because he is as yours as you are his.

“Nope, you’re just biteable.”

That makes him snort and shake his head fondly. You look at him again, now closer, and you have to bite your lip at how hot your boyfriend is. This older, experienced, kind, sweet man… all for you. You are so lucky.

A great idea strikes you. You check the GPS on your phone, (Dean refused to use it, saying that he knew how to find his way everywhere with just a map) According to it, you’ve got at least another hour on this empty road. Perfect.

You shuffle around in the bench seat of the Impala until the point of your feet are pressed against the car door, knees bent comfortably as you let your head fall down into Dean’s lap. He is a little startled at first, sending you a confused look. But you simply beam at him sweetly, staring into his eyes from between his torso and the steering wheel. He laughs, brushing some hair out of your face with his free hand.

You wait for a few minutes before putting your plan into action. The moment Dean’s eyes are extra focused on the road, his fingers drumming along to some song you think is by Led Zeppelin (you are learning, for him), you tilt your head to the side and press your cheek against his crotch.

Dean’s movements halt for a second, and he sends you a warning look.

“What do you think you're doing, sweetheart?”

You say nothing, giggling softly and nuzzling against his clothed dick again. The fabric of the denim was rough, and it burned your skin just right. You start to feel how Dean slowly starts to harden under you, and you start to leave soft kisses all over his upper thighs and over the growing bulge.

“Baby, I am serious.” He calls out your name when you don’t stop. “I am driving, for god's sake.”

You catch the edge of the waistline of his jeans in between your teeth, pulling at it softly before you look up at Dean, all doe eyes and fluttering lashes.

“You’ve been driving for hours. Let me give you a little thank-you, baby.”

Dean groans, both his hands now in the steering wheel, like he was scared to lose control. He licks his lips, thinking for a moment with an almost pained expression.

“You’re so… I’m gonna lose my damn mind.” He murmurs, more to himself than to you. “I won’t stop you, but just know that if we crash against some fucking tree it will be your fault.”

You giggle and proceed to unbutton his jeans and pull down the zipper. You lick a long strip across his now completely hard cock over his boxers. It makes Dean’s breath hitch, and his hips twitch subtly under you. You keep mouthing at the bulge over the thin fabric of the underwear until it is completely soaked with spit.

“Come on, darling.” Dean grunts. “Don’t be a tease.”

You use your hands to pull his erection out of his underwear. It is a little cramped and less than ideal in the small space you have, but you manage to pull his pants down enough so that his cock stands proudly in front of you, long and hard and wet with your spit.

You shift in the seat of the impala once again until you are laying on your stomach, feet kicking in the air playfully as if you were doing the most innocent of things instead of about to blow your boyfriend while he drove.

You brush your tongue against the throbbing tip of Dean’s dick, collecting the precum already there into your mouth. You hear Dean groan distantly, but your head was getting a little hazy already. You loved sucking Dean’s cock. He fit so right in your mouth, the weight and taste of him in your tongue so perfect that you felt dizzy with it. You could spend hours with him nuzzled against your throat, suckling and swallowing around him.

You give kitten licks to the whole length, getting him sloppy and ready. The moment the tip slides in between your lips, Dean lets out the first low moan. It was heavy and husky, and you absolutely loved it. You take him deeper into your mouth, starting to bop your head up and down.

“Fuck, yes. So good, so– ah, so fucking good for me, baby.”

You can feel his eyes on you, and you lean away slightly, his cock sliding out of your mouth with a wet pop.

“Eyes on the road, Dean.” There is a string of saliva connecting your lips and Dean’s dick, and the image makes him curse, his jaw clenching as his eyes flick back up.

You take him inside your mouth again, deeper this time. You breathe in through your nose before you sink in further, until he hits the back of your throat. It makes Dean grunt loudly, but it quickly turns into an extended moan as the warm walls of your throat contract around him.

“Mmnh— you feel so good, baby. You were made for this. Such a tight, warm little mouth just for me. Such, ah, such a good girl, taking my cock so deep. Fuck.”

Dean’s knuckles are white where he is holding the wheel for dear life. You hum at the praises, and Dean lets out a choked whine at the vibrations that throbbed through his length, cock twitching and more precum dribbling out of his tip.

You feel your mind spin a little at Dean’s words and the sweet feeling of him so deeply settled into your mouth. You brush your tongue against the underside of his cock, and it is messy. You’re almost desperate with it, drool dribbling past your lips and down Dean’s balls. He hiss at the feeling and throws his head back for just one second before his eyes return to the road.

“You love cock so much, don’t you?” He growls, strangled. “So fucking sloppy and messy. My pretty girl all needy for me.”

You whimper around him at his words, and you start to suck with renewed vigour. Slurping around Dean’s length and letting out pleased noises every time he hit the back of your throat. He keeps murmuring filthy words at you, fighting the way his hips desperately wanted to thrust into your mouth.

Seriously, you are lucky he has so much self control and doesn’t end up flipping the car.

“Yeah, just like that, sweetheart. I’m– a-ah, I'm close. Make me come in your mouth, baby.”

You pull back a bit, wanting Dean to come on your tongue— you want to taste it, savor the way it coats your tongue with a flavor that you can only describe as Dean. You use your fist to jerk whatever is left out of your mouth, and when your tongue presses into his slit, his cock pulses and he comes.

Dean’s groan is guttural and desperate, fighting to keep his eyes open and his hands firmly on the wheel. Thick ropes of cum fall onto your tongue, and you let out a contented little hum. You lap it all up, eyes rolling back in satisfaction. You swallow around his cock, prolonging his orgasm and making him twitch one last time. Even after he stops coming, you keep suckling around the head of his cock. Dean hisses in overstimulation.

“That’s enough, princess.” He pants, pulling you away by the hair. The combination of the pain and the lack of dick makes you whine. “Stop, or I am seriously crashing the car.”

You lick your lips as you try to catch your breath. You somehow look even worse than Dean did, eyes teary and lips puffy. There was spit dripping down your chin and your breathing was ragged. Your cheek is red and itchy where it rubbed against his jeans, but you love the feeling.

You blink at Dean twice, the fog in your mind slowly dissipating and a proud little grin taking over your face instead.

“I love the way you taste.” You murmur dreamily, and it makes Dean glare at you as he groans.

“You need to stop saying things like that before I pull over and fucking ravish you.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.” You wink at him, moving until you are sitting correctly on the car seat.

Dean scoffs and rolls his eyes, but there is a pleased smile on his face. He looks somehow even sexier now, the post-orgasm glow turning his eyes shinier and adding an edge to his grin.

Fuck, you still couldn’t believe all that was yours.

You sigh, opening the glove box and pulling out some tissues. Dean has already put himself back into his pants, so you wipe the last traces of spit off your face. Your throat feels a little raw, so you turn and bend over the backrest of the front seat to reach the cooler Dean keeps in the back.

“Fuck, you’re a hazard while driving.”

You grab a water bottle when you feel him slap your ass. The sharp sting spreads through you, heat prickling every nerve. You sit back down with a huff, turning to him with an incredulous expression.

“What?”

Dean shrugs, trying —and failing— to look innocent, his smirk betraying him.

“Come on. You can’t bend over like that and not expect it. I’m only human after all, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes, but an endeared smile takes over your face.

“Why do I keep you around again?”

A day later, you are sitting outside of the rented cabin with Dean next to you, surrounded by nothing but nature. You made him a simple flower crow with some daisies and baby’s breath you’d found in a clearing nearby. It took plenty of begging, pouting, and soft kisses to convince him to wear it, but once it was on, he hadn’t taken it off.

The days pass in a blur of quiet moments—early mornings spent sipping coffee on the cabin’s porch, evenings filled with whiskey, laughter and many more of those old-man stories you loved so much. And of course, a lot more sex.

Weeks later, after countless motel rooms and small-town diners, you find yourselves standing on the coast. you are near the beach, where the salty breeze mingled with the sound of crashing waves, and the sun hangs warm and golden overhead. Dean stands behind you, strong arms wrapped around your waist, pressing you back against his chest, chin resting against the top of your head.

And right there, in that perfect moment, when Dean turns you around softly and presses his lips to yours, you know exactly why you keep him around.

Because there’s no one else out there for you. Dean Winchester—old enough to be your father, a big bad hunter carrying more baggage than most could bear, with a neon sign flashing 'trouble' on his forehead—is the love of your life.

NOTES: I am trying my best with the smut pls be nice. Another ode to sucking dick by me (I am a virgin if it wasn't clear by now).

TAGS: @littlesoulshine @mostlymarvelgirl @pink-ghost666 @h8aaz @otteropera @xoswiftieprincess <3

If you wanna be tagged in future works, let me know!!

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ellieslittlewh0re · 1 year ago

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ִ ⋆｡ °✩ ❝ 𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐏𝐈𝐄 𝐋♡𝐕𝐄 ❞ ✩°｡⋆

(𝒘𝒌) 5k

〚𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒〛 ✰ rockerstar! ellie x groupie! reader ✰

〚𝐒��𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒〛 ellie williams. her name was everywhere- the underground music’s next breakout star, and for a good reason too- a honeyed voice mixed with gravel, her passion, energy, the fact she was everything rock and roll should be. also, let’s not forget the sex appeal.

〚𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒〛 sex, love, drugs, and rock and roll. !!TW!! for descriptions of drug usage ( c0cain, L$D) fingering (r! receiving), oral (r! receiving), strap on usage (r! receiving) overstim kinda, dom e!, sub r!

It started with a video- a grainy, shity quality one at that, but still a video. She was center stage of some grungy bar from the looks of it, spotlights illuminating her face enough to see stands of her hair sticking to her forehead with sweat, and a chipped cherry red electric guitar hanging from her shoulder. She was magnetic, hypnotizing- not just with her performance, but her looks as well.

From that day on, you just had the desire to get closer to her in any way you could.

It had been two months since you started following her band while they toured across the West Coast. You had been to every show, seen every performance, and Ellie was starting to catch on.

The first time she saw you, you immediately caught Ellie's attention- I mean, how could you not? You were by far the hottest girl in the venue that night, swinging your hips so effortlessly it put the rest of the girls to shame. Ellie remembers that night vividly because she was so pissed she couldn't find you after the show to bring you back to her shitty motel room and have her way with you. But Ellie quickly forgot about you when the company of two other girls took your place that night, along with a few too many hits of whatever her drug of choice was during that time.

So, that's how you ended up here- at a run down gas station bathroom touching up your makeup in the middle of the fucking desert, and a van full of strangers that you were currently hitching a ride with waiting outside at the pumps.

And Ellie? Well, Ellie was doing what she always does before a show- drugs, and lots of them, whether it was molly, coke, weed, tabs, or maybe even a deadly concoction of all the above, she didn't care as long as it made her feel alive- claiming it made her perform better or something, but really she just liked being fucked up while fucking girls after the show.

While Ellie was living this "glamorous" rockstar lifestyle, you were on the complete opposite end- quitting your day job to follow some girl around who doesn't even know your name and catching rides from people who definitely look like they have seen the inside of a prison cell- AKA, you were a groupie.

The air was hot, stale. A thin layer of orangy, rust-colored sand coated the windows and the van's gaudy upholstery. The landscape outside flashed like an old fashioned reel movie, cacti, shrubs, Joshua trees, and repeat.

It was desolate, and if the road and occasional mile marker wasn't there to remind you, you would've thought you were on a different planet.

"Your stop is next, daisy." The man with a handle bar mustache yelled from the drivers seat, meeting your eyes in the review mirror.

Daisy. A nickname given to you by the group when they first picked you up further up north. You had a daisy tucked behind your ear, and from then on, you were daisy.

It was dark by the time you arrived at the venue, venue isn't really how you would describe it. It was more like a diner turned bar turned into whatever the fuck it was currently. You waved your goodbyes to the the group of not-so-strange strangers, all of them bidding you 'farewells' and 'good lucks' before you watched the red tails fade into the pitch dark of the desert.

For once, you were early. Turns out a bunch of traveling hippies and outcasts aren't on a timed schedule, who knew?

Even though you were early, the dirt patch of a parking lot was packed, cars in various stages of deterioration lining the sides of the building, and people gathering outside to avoid the cramped interior. But you weren't here to socialize or drink and get high- you just wanted to see her, dance to the strum of her guitar, and let her voice consume and overtake you.

It was 40-ish minutes past midnight, meaning Ellie and her band were late, but that's not a surprise. She had a bad habit of keeping the people waiting, but she was a busy girl- hanging out backstage or at a hotel, a room full of girls for her to pick from, and no shortage of drugs and alcohol. But tonight, she went a little too overboard. Her band mates were practically carrying her across the motel parking lot to their van, trying to get her to sober up on the way to the venue with water and motivational speeches that mostly consisted of "get your fucking shit together".

The short 30 minute drive to the venue was barely long enough to get Ellie back in the right state of mind. She was slightly unsteady on her feet, and her speech was a little slurred, but she's used to preforming under these conditions.

You waited patiently of course, babying a strong cocktail mix since you didn't dare get drunk and risk not remembering every detail of the night- every detail of her.

When the crowd shifted their attention to the back entrance of the building, silent murmurs at first before a load cheer erupting was when you knew, she was here, and she looked like heaven- a black tank top that was torn near the neckline, a studded belt loosely securing a pair of baggy, black patchwork cargo pants.

The crowd parted a pathway for her as she made her way through the room with her bandmates following behind, a cigarette tucked between her lips as she'd occasionally stop to sign whatever was thrown at her- a piece of paper, cash, a pair of tits- which she'd always happily comply, but if she saw a girl she liked, she would lick her pointer finger and index, smearing part of her signature on their cleavage while the marker was still wet to subtly let you know that she wanted your company for the night- at least, that's the rumor you've heard.

You found yourself holding your breath- she was so close, a mere body or two keeping you at arm's length from her. You could smell the cigarette smoke, and see the details of her chipped black nail polish holding the marker between her fingers.

Ellie hands the notebook and marker back into the wave of hands, looking up while blowing out a cloud of smoke, and that's when she sees you. She was about to walk off, but she stopped for a second. You don't look like you belong- you were different, sweet, and innocent-looking compared to the rest of the audience. But she doesn't let her eyes linger long, she has a show to put on after all.

She turned, and walked towards the stage stairs, and centered herself behind the mic. She shifted her weight on her feet, and took one last drag of the cigarette before suffocating the embers on a ashtray near the edge of the stage.

"How's everyone doing tonight?" She barely could make out before the crowds hollering drowned out her voice. She laughed into the mic while plugging a cord into her guitar that was connected to a beefy looking amp.

Her ego was at its biggest right now- just her mere appearance could make a group of strangers act like dogs, and she fucking loved it.

She played a few cords on the guitar, ensuring the tune was where she wanted it before looking back up into the crowd, "c'mon, you can do better than that." And even though her mouth was covered by the mic, you could tell she was smirking.

The crowd cheered louder, fists clenched high above the sea of heads, and chanted her name over and over exactly how she wanted them to.

And for you? Well, you were also chanting her name, maybe not as loud, but you were too busy squeezing your way through to get to the front.

She needed to be able to see you.

And she did see you- you were front row, playfully singing and dancing along, your bright, twinkling eyes boring into every little thing she did- from the way she'd run her hand through the front of her hairline, ridding her face of the baby hairs and bangs, down to the way her fingers curled over the frets of her guitar. She made sure to look elsewhere into the crowd, interacting with everyone, but her eyes always found themselves back on you.

Ellie closed out the show with an encore, most of the crowd was overly intoxicated at this point, stumbling, and starting meaningless fights with whoever was closest- aka the usual time you'd leave, but you couldn't, at least, not when Ellie was walking towards you, her eyes set on you. You glanced to your right then your left- confused, and definitely was searching for an explanation as to why she was getting closer. Surely, it was someone else who caught her attention, but it was only you nearby.

You take a step back from the stage as the tips of her dirty converse near the edge. She bends down at the knees before sitting all together, dangling her legs over the edge. She doesn't say anything, and you didn't either, maybe from intimidation mixed with confusion as to why she chose to sit here out of all places.

She reaches her tattooed arm behind, shifting her weight to pull out a pack of cigarettes, and offering the carton to you, but you shyly decline. She smirked, a dimple deepening on the one side of her cheek, "So-" She said, her voice momentarily muffled by the cigarette between her lips, "-you don't look like you're from here, where'd you come from, baby?" She ignited the end with a metal lighter, holding a free hand up to cover the flame which only amplified the warm glow of the flame on her face.

You chuckled a nervous laugh, looking down at your fingers as she blew out a puff of smoke, "M' not. I'm from up north. " Your voice trembled, leaking with submission and uncertainty which only fascinated her more, but also she was frustrated- most girls wouldn't need a conversation to know what Ellie wanted from them, and you weren't looking at her.

She grabs your hand, and pulls you closer to the space between her knees. A sharp breath gets caught in your throat as she does this, your cheeks hot, and your gut feels like it's jumping being this close to her- enough to smell the fumes of her cologne mixed with ash. You watch her fingers come up and hover over your chest, her fingers gently dancing along the skin of your clavicle to examine the charm of your necklace, but really it was just a flirtation tactic to her.

"What's a girl like you doing in the desert in the middle of the night, huh?" She asked, dropping her voice down to an almost whisper- raspy, and thick with suggestion. You shake your head side to side, a nervous tick of yours when you felt uncomfortable, but being uncomfortable isn't always a bad thing.

"I uh-" you paused, mentally wavering if you should tell the truth since it does seem a little pathetic. "-I wanted to see you play."

Ellie's eyebrows raise, her bottom lip puckering into a frown with a slight nod. "Is that so?" She hummed, rolling the edges of the charm between her fingers. Ellie was certain she had seen you before. It wasn't a trick of the light or getting your face confused with some other hot chick- you were unmistakable. But she didn't want you to know that she found you out, not yet, not now.

Ellie learned in further, your knees almost buckling out from under you, feeling her breath against your lips. She played it off like she was getting a closer look at your necklace, extending the religious symbolic charm out so the chain tugged on your neck. "Do you believe?" She asked, still looking at the damn necklace, furrowing her brows like she was in a deep philosophical thought.

You swallowed dryly, wishing you still had your drink from easier, "N-not really-" you stuttered, "it was a gift from when I was younger."

Ellie chuckled, but it wasn't lighthearted or sweet- it was dark, methodical, and a tad bit sadistic.

She released the charm from her fingers, letting it hit your bare chest with a muted thud before looking up. Her eyes were a darker shade than you remembered them being- irises blown out and framed beautifully by a thick band of dark eyelashes.

Her hand reached out and gently grabbed you by the wrist before yanking you closer so your tummy was flush with the side of the stage, leaving only a few inches between your tits and the denim of her crotch.

You inhaled a sharp, breathy yelp as she did this, your hands not knowing what to do or where to divert your eyes- her hands on you, her face so close to yours that you could count the freckles on her cheeks, even the ones that are faint enough to miss- or maybe how her thighs were drifting apart, and you were in between them.

Her hand comes up, which causes you to squeeze your eyes shut, but the wrinkles around your eyes relax as you feel her hand on your face and her lips on yours. You moaned instantly at the contact, resting your hand on her thigh where it felt most comfortable. Ellie took this opportunity to slip her tongue inside, using the muscle to work against yours. Her hand snakes down your side, squeezing the soft flesh of your hip before pulling away, leaving you breathless, and hazy.

Her eyes were intense looking into yours, her lips wet and craving a deeper satisfaction.

She only said one thing, a simple sentence that would separate you from being just some regular fan,

"Come with me tonight, and I'll show you something worth believing."

So that's how your night shifted- how one decision to follow some band across the state had finally paid off because now you were here- a hotel room, alone with the band's most valuable member snorting lines of a white powdery substance off of a mirror topped end table.

Ellie held the rolled 20 between her fingers, putting the end of it to her nose while the index on her other closed the opposing nostril shut. She dragged the end of the cylinder across the smuggled surface, inhaling deeply until the white line disappeared behind it.

"Fuuck-" She sighed, throwing her head back, and swipes the bottom of her nose with her thumb,

"Here-" She held out the rolled 20 for you to take, but you lean away,

"I don't do that stuff."

She looks at you curiously, a furrow between her brows that suggests she found your refusal even more entertaining.

Ellie leaned forward and turned her body to face you on the edge of the dusty duvet, "What-" She scoffed, "'think you're too good for it?"

You shook your head violently, indicating a 'no', "No- no, that's not what I meant-"

Ellie laughed, causing you to stop mid-sentence, "I'm just fucking with you, doll. I should've known." She smiles, and you return the smile in relief that you didn't actually offend her.

Your eyes divert to the wallpapered walls- a faint pattern of stripes with cream-colored baseboards, a warm yellowed lamp on the bedside being the only source of light in the room to contrast the night outside.

You felt her hand creep up your thigh, tempting the skin below the hem of your dress before it disappeared underneath the fabric altogether. She leaned in, her other hand on your face to encourage you closer, whispering a "so soft" in a raspy breath before connecting your lips with hers.

It started slow- her lips overlapping yours like a soft current on a still morning before it turned into a ranging one during a windy cast. You moaned into her- soft and delicate mews between each detachment, and it fueled her.

Ellie's body overpowered yours, using her strength to her advantage. But it's not like she needed it- you were putty in her hands, fully committing yourself to her, letting her push you into your back, and her body hovering on top of yours.

You squirmed beneath her- each bump, and drag of her knee between your legs left you feeling more desperate.

"Ellie-" you broke the kiss in a breathless euphoria, looking up at her with a needy expression. Ellie knew that face well- it's not like she had all this experience and didn't know what to do with it, so- she got up, leaving you alone on the bed, and walked over to a black duffle bag decorated with pins of miscellaneous logos and bands.

She riffled through it, pulling a small clear plastic bag out before joining you back on the bed.

She opened the baggie, pulling something out no bigger than the size of a postage stamp, and tearing it into smaller halves before looking up,

"Do you trust me?" She asked, her green eyes piercing into yours, causing a wet sensation to spill from the heat between your legs. You swallowed, not really sure what you were agreeing to, but you nodded anyway, "Yes, Ellie... I trust you."

She placed the colorfully decorated paper on her tongue and held the sides of your face, kissing you and slipping her tongue inside, transferring whatever it was into your mouth before pulling away. "Swallow." She demanded, tilting your face up by your chin, and you did it without hesitation- straining the walls of your throat as the mystery stamp slid downwards.

She smirked, and swiped her thumb over your bottom lip, "good girl."

She followed it up by doing the same, placing the tab on her tongue and swallowing, but she made it seem so much more intentional like a ritual of some sorts.

Ellie leaned away from you in the bed to rest her back against the headboard and pillows, "C'mere" she said nonchalantly, patting her thighs.

With shaky knees, you did as you were told and crawled your way up her legs until you were straddling her waist.

Her hands come up to rest on your hips, her thumbs tracing circles through the flimsy fabric of your dress, "so obedient" she said lightly, almost under her breath to herself and not at you directly.

Her hands started to wander- first on your hips, then down to your thighs, gliding them up to the plush beneath your skirt. You felt her fingertip squeeze and caress, sending chills up your spine and a hot/cold sensation throughout your body.

Next, her lips were on yours, and her fingers were tightening the follicles on the back of your scalp as the kisses became more intense. Your back instinctively arches, and you reach a hand between your legs to soothe the ache, but she stops you with a firm grip on your wrist, "Gettin' impatient, huh?" She said in a cocky tone, smirking against your lips. You whimpered- nodding your head, and grabbed her hand, inching it closer to your core.

Ellie chucked at this- the kind of chuckle that was half way a scoff, and half way felt like an insult.

"Damn- you need me to fill you up that bad? 'thought you were one of them good girls."

She tisked her tongue against her teeth, but still let you guid her hand where you needed her.

The back of her knuckles grazed between the pillowy folds over your panties, going agonizingly slow before turning her hand over to fully palm your cunt.

You melt on top of her, resting your head against her shoulder, all the while dragging your hips against her hand.

She turns her head, her warm breath fanning against the helix of your ear, "You're so wet and I've barely touched you."

Her words echoed throughout your brain like her voice waves were sending signals to every part of your body. And her touch was magnified- each cell, fiber, and pore was experiencing a new sense of heightened, whether it be because of the drugs or not, you couldn't be sure.

"El-Ellie, please... need you."

Your words rang a siren song to Ellie's ears, creating a sticky pool between her own legs. She muttered a guttural "fuck" before she grabs you by the sides of your thighs, flipping you over so she was on top of you.

She was already yanking down your underwear, and tossing them to the side before you could comprehend what was happening. You felt her fingers stinging to the flesh of your thighs, prying them apart like she couldn't wait to see you, to taste you.

You sucked in a sharp breath as her tongue lightly traced a line down your folds before her lips met your clit where she pulsated the bud between her lips, letting out a moan as she made contact, "fuuck-" She curses before flicking her tongue over your bundle of nerves, igniting a colorful array of shapes behind your tightly closed eyes.

She was messy but precise- using her tongue along with the motion of her head to send you that much further. Your fingers tangled in her hair, tugging harder the closer you got which was the perfect time in Ellie's eyes to add a finger.

She slowly pushed her middle finger inside, stopping halfway at her knuckle to let you adjust before slamming it all the way till her knuckles were snug against your puffy lips.

You wriggled beneath her, reaching out to push her away with a palm to her shoulder, but that only makes her add a second finger.

You cry out loudly through heavy breaths, the veins on her forearm coming to the surface of her skin from how much force she was using, and her mouth putting in just as much work.

You were climbing higher and higher, the peripheral of your vision going white-

"Ellie... I'm- I'm gonna-" You don't have much time to warn her before your body starts to spaz, starting at your hips and up into your chest like volts of electricity through a highly active current.

Your knees close around her head, your back arching high off the mattress, and your eyes rolling into the back of your head. She slows her pace as you come down before pulling her fingers out and lifting her head.

With your eyes closed, and an arm draped over your face, you feel her pat the inside of your thigh before her weight leaves the bed.

She comes back a couple of minutes later, only opening your eyes when you feel her weight return to the mattress.

Your eyes go wide as you take notice of the new attachment- a black, strappy harness with buckles near her hips, and a crude shaped silicone cock bulging at her crotch.

She lowers herself over you, her hands on each side of your head before she leans down to kiss you, slipping her tongue inside. She pulled back, momentarily admiring the way you looked just from something as simple as oral and some fingering- glossy eyes, puffy lips smeared with her spit, and if she looked down- how your inner thighs glistened.

Her lips trial from yours, staring at your neck, then your chest, and finally your tits which Ellie had absolutely no problem with pulling the straps down to expose them, leaving the fabric bunched around your stomach. In her eyes, everything she wanted- no, needed was accessible this way.

Ellie looks up, placing a delicate kiss on the skin of your lower stomach, "Got one more fr' me, pretty girl?" She asked softly, tenderly, but it still managed to come off more intimidating than a question should sound.

You nodded shyly, a small whine emitting from the back of your throat, looking down at her with your breasts out for her viewing, grabbing pleasure, and your legs spread wide, ready to take her.

She lifted her upper half up, slim fingers holding the base of her cock, and lined the artificial tip with your entrance. She glided the tip up your folds, coating it with your slick, and let out a sultry exhale since she could practically see your walls clenching around nothing in preparation for her.

She teased you for a bit- only giving you a couple of inches before backing away and repeating, each time causing you to whine harder and harder out of frustration. Sure, Ellie was having her fun watching you squirm, grab for her, and fuck- how your hole gapped each time she pulled out, a clear, viscous fluid leaking from it, but she was growing just as impatient- feeling your legs wrap around her waist, pulling her closer, pleading variations of her name and "please" and who is she to deny you when you ask so nicely?

She thrusts her hips forward until her crotch was flesh with your ass, your legs in the air, and her hands pushing on the back of your thighs.

"Is this what you wanted, huh?" She gritted, pulling her hips back only to snap them forward again.

You cried out loudly, curling your fingers around the bedsheets until the blood stopped circulating, turning the skin there a lighter shade than the rest of you.

She pushed harder on the back of your thighs- your knees pressed up against your chest, and using what you can imagine is all of her strength to thrust into you. She was reaching the deepest part of your cervix- grunting and moaning on Ellie's end while you mewled high-pitched noises mixed with the wet slapping of her cock repeatedly slamming into you.

Ellie's eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly upward, and her lips parted as insufficient, short breaths seep from them. Her hips started to falter from the endless abuse her clit was suffering behind the base of her strap, her boxers now a sticky, cold mess that stuck to her cunt and thighs.

She collapses on top of you, snugging herself between your legs to connect her lips to yours in a desperate effort, overpowering all your senses with her. She continues to fill you over and over again, both of you moaning in between breathless lips.

You wrapped her arms around her as her head hung low into your neck, digging your nails into the skin of her shoulder blades.

"El... mmhm- I'm gonna-" You babbled before biting your lip to silence the cry that was bubbling in the back of your throat, and Ellie wasn't far behind.

The pistoning motions of her hips turned into a grinding one- keeping a steady pace and rolling her hips forward, "M-me too- fuck... stay with me, yeah?" She said in between soft pants, the warmth of her breath brushing against your lips as her hand came up to gently but firmly wrap around your neck.

Ellie's head goes fuzzy as you looked up at her with your half-hooded gaze and your perfectly rosette lips that are just begging to be wrapped around something, so- she released the hold she had on your neck and brought her two fingers that were previously inside of you to your mouth.

She didn't even have to say anything for you to part your lips wider, slipping her fingers inside and rolling them over your tongue.

You moan, closing your lips around her as her fingers reach further back, causing tears to fall from the corner of your eyes.

"That's it-" She coaxed, her eyes focused on the split trailing down your chin,"-such a good girl."

She motioned her fingers in and out in a vulgar manner, bitting her bottom lip before pulling her fingers out all together to fist the bed sheets beside her.

"Fuckfuckfuck-oh my god-" She grunted incoherently, dropping her head to space between your neck and shoulder. Her forehead glistened with proof of her efforts as she rushed the pace to ease the itch between her legs.

You tightened your legs around her waist, pretty little noises falling on Ellie's ears as you both peak.

She rolls her hips- making it slow and deep until your voice grows tired and quiet before pushing her upper half away from you.

You wince at her absence, feeling your walls retract back to its original shape like the sand inside of an hourglass.

She plopped down beside you with an exaggerated sigh of exhaustion, pulling up the bottom of her tank top to wipe the slick/sweat mixture from her chin and nose, giving you a few seconds to admire her hardened stomach and prominent 'v' which lead your eyes down to the fake dick still standing high between her thighs.

She catches you looking, the corner of her lips tugging into a smirk as she lets out a low chuckle.

You meet her eyes, realizing you have been caught, which causes you to look away quickly, but her hand grabs yours.

"Gettin' shy on me now after all that?" She said, pulling at your hand to silently instruct you to get on top of her, so you did.

Her hands rub up and down your thighs, and her bottom lip snug between her teeth. She eyes your body, starting from your tits down to her cock that is resting against your lower stomach.

"Wanna do me a favor?" She asked, palming the fat of your thigh that spilled over the heels of your feet. You hummed at her- a sweet, genuine hum that was full of eagerness to assist her, which almost made Ellie feel bad for what she was about to say- key word almost.

"Put that pretty little mouth of yours to use and clean me up."

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m3ridiem · 4 months ago

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“trouble's always gonna find you, baby. and so will i.” — VI.

notes: criminal!vi, modern au, was gonna add some spicy stuff but i remember i have no skills to write that. made this after listening to that one song over and over again for two weeks;)

criminal!vi who always doing crimes for living, who took you across every state line with her old truck to the very west side of the country, breaking the ATMs when it comes past midnight then hitting the gas to get away from the place before police could arrive, who always sleeping naked next to you in the motel when it gets really hot outside, her hands gently caressing your bare back. the next morning you wake up find her absent from the room, not even five minutes later you find her fighting with another motel guest outside after hearing her shouted “fuck you, you old fuck!” you didn’t know why she was that mad, seeing how bad the bruises that old man got on his left eye. “he hurled slurs at me while I was sitting peacefully outside,” she explained later.

you absolutely knew what she was always doing, even when the first time you met her months ago. vi is a criminal, a well-known wanted person who somehow always managed her way to escape. yet you, brought up in a well-mannered family, found yourself deeply attached to her, head over heels, completely smitten, you even chose to leave your family, embracing the risk, even when your mother threatened to disown you if you dared to step out of that grand house. you swore you'd never leave vi alone, even if she lost what was left of her mind, driven by madness. trouble will always find her, and so will you.

criminal!vi who left you months after the motel incident, three weeks after you both settled in a dilapidated house amidst the prairie, in the middle of nowhere. waking up to find her absence in the bedroom, calling out her name for hours while searching for her throughout the place, only to find a small note tucked between the cushions of an old sofa. “i surrendered myself to the police. you shouldn't have fallen so hard for me because you deserve much better. like your mother said a long time ago, i am nothing but a criminal who would drag your life into an endless chaos. never search for me again.”

#vi arcane x reader #vi x reader #vi arcane #vi x you #arcane x reader #arcane league of legends #lesbian #lgbtq #arcane #vi x y/n

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impala-dreamer · 7 months ago

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Just Wrong

A Supernatural Story

~John Winchester has a hard life and an even harder time keeping his mind off of young Y/N.~

John Winchester x Fem!Reader, Dean Winchester

1,998 Words

Warnings: NSFW, Age Gap, Masturbation, Longing

A/N: Set pre-series somewhere between Sam going to college and the start of the show. Reader is a little younger than Dean, but still of legal age.

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist ~ Patreon ~ Published Works

He was always watching. He told himself it was out of concern. He was teaching them how to hunt, how to walk away from a fight without too much mess, how to stay the fuck alive. But that wasn’t all it was.

Ever since they’d picked Y/N up after the case in Buckeye, he’d been enamored with her. She was quick witted and clever, eager to learn, even more so to please. She was beautiful, too, in that way he wasn’t supposed to linger over too long anymore. Not at his age. Not at hers. Hell, she was tucked right in between his boys in age, for Christ’s sake. He couldn’t spend his days eyeing the curves of her jeans, his nights dreaming of tossing her in the back of the Impala and having himself a taste of her sweet young body.

It was just wrong.

Besides, Dean seemed to be just as in love. He was all puppy eyes and cocky smirks around Y/N, and she seemed just as interested. They were forever joking around, bumping shoulders, playfully slapping, generally acting like young adults in the first stages of love.

He couldn’t do that to his son, no matter how much he wanted to take her stupid little ponytail in his fist and yank until she cried, until she was whimpering and staring up at him with those pouty lips all hungry and wet.

It was just wrong.

So he watched. Kept a parental eye on her, on them both. He eyed her in the rearview mirror, distracted from the road by her gentle humming and the way the sun bouncing off the chrome struck her face. He stared over books while they trudged through long research sessions, one eye on the text, the other on the tip of the pen that was forever tucked between her delicious lips, taunting him. He counted her smiles, her laughs, her annoyed grunts; every furious shout, each heart-stopping moan. He took snapshots with his mind, tucking little moments away forever.

At night, he would lie awake and watch her sleep, imagining she was in his arms and not sleeping butt-to-butt with his son, a pillow jammed between them like a wall.

There were times when she caught him staring. A few too many times he didn’t turn away fast enough and she found his gaze locked on her, hazel eyes lingering a little too long on the dip between her tits, the curve of her middle, the tip of her tongue. She never shied away, instead, she met his eye with a confidence beyond her years as if she held some secret she was daring him to dig up. That was a grave he’d be happy to excavate.

But no. It was just wrong.

Still, he couldn’t help but dream. Dream of her soft young body melting for his touch. Dream of her sweet voice growing louder as he claimed her virgin cunt.

Somewhere outside of Beaumont, Texas, they holed up in a crappy motel for a few days' rest before heading to the west coast. The room was cramped and old and smelled like bleach.

They ate pizza for dinner and downed a few beers each. Y/N was curled up on one of the beds, Dean at her side as always. John sat across from them, keeping an eye on his treasure and his pirate son.

More than once, he could have sworn she was looking at him. Her ears were with Dean, but her mind, her gaze, was on John. She drank her beer in tiny sips, with the rim of the brown bottle seated perfectly in the middle of her bottom lip. She curled her mouth around the glass and stared at him, teasing perhaps, but probably just oblivious to her charms. She couldn’t be flirting with him. There was no way.

Still, he let that glimmer of a thought grow in the back of his head; let the dream take over. He allowed himself to imagine her lips trailing down his body and wrapping around his cock until he was aching and had to excuse himself.

He left them there and slammed the bathroom door, near to panting. He pressed his palm against the wood and closed his eyes.

She was there on her knees at his feet, batting her painted lashes up at him, begging silently for his cock. She whimpered and opened her mouth, a bit of drool spilling down her chin.

John sucked in a heavy breath and beat his fist against the door.

“You OK, Dad?”

Dean’s voice broke through his imagination and John cleared his throat.

“Yeah. All good.” He shook his head and scrubbed his hands down his face, turning away.

“We’re gonna go grab more beer. OK?”

John exhaled hard and turned on the sink faucet. “Yeah. Good. Just leave me alone.”

He splashed water on his face and stared into the mirror. He was fucking old. How’d he get so old? He tugged at his cheeks, tried to smooth out the lines around his eyes. He squinted at himself, trying to find the young man he used to be.

Would she ever look at him the way she looked at Dean? All innocent smiles and awkward giggles. Or was he too old for that crap? Were the days of women giggling in his direction a thing of the past?

Well, fuck them. He didn’t need to chase young things anyway. He got what he needed when he needed it.

And still-

Y/N with that beer… with her mouth so plump and juicy like a plum…

His cock strained against his jeans again and he huffed. Fuck it.

John stepped into the tub and settled down on the cold porcelain as he unbuttoned his pants. He pushed his head back against the edge and yanked his jeans down just enough to free his dick. He was throbbing already and the cool air was a bit of a jolting shock.

He hissed and wrapped his hand around the base, closed his eyes and saw her face.

Would she call him Daddy? Dare he ask her to? Would she let him strip her slowly, take his time unwrapping her like a gift until every inch was exposed and shivering under his touch? Would she moan his name as he sunk his cock into her, scream when she came? Would they wake the dead together?

“John?”

The door creaked open and he froze, eyes snapping open and heart skipping. He sat up and tried to cover himself, but she was already peeking inside, her tiny hand curled around the door.

Her eyes went wide when she saw him. Her jaw dropped and lips curled. “Oh! I’m… sorry. I just- I heard something, wanted to check on you.”

John cleared his throat but his mouth was bone dry. “I’m fine.” He shifted in the tub, tried to look normal even though his skin was burning and his balls were aching. “Thought you and Dean were going out to-”

Y/N shook her head gently. Her eyes were falling from his face downwards, following the line of his arm. “No. He went by himself. I wanted to… stay here with you.” Stepping fully into the bathroom, she shut the door behind her and threw the lock. Coyly, she pressed her back to the door and bowed her head, chewed her lip nervously.

He swallowed hard. “You did?”

She smiled. “Yeah. Is that- OK?”

Blood pounded in his ears. “Y-yeah. That’s fine.”

Y/N pushed away from the door and locked her arms behind her back. She took a step closer and peered into the tub. “You sure?” She licked her lips slowly. “I don’t want to disturb you.”

He should kick her out. Shouldn’t let her stay.

“Not disturbing me… Not at all.”

Another step and she was at the edge of the tub. Eyes lidded with a sultry gaze, she started at his face and swept down over his entire body and then back up, settling on his cock. She tongued her cheek and let out a slow breath.

“It’s just that… I heard you call my name before and…” Gently, she sank to her knees on the cold tile and placed her hands on the rim of the tub. “Well, I thought if you needed some help…” Eyes on his face, she let her right hand slide from porcelain to denim and she curled her fingers into his thigh. “I could… be of service.” She moved a little higher, going slow lest he protest.

His jaw hung open, his brain sizzled. He should tell her to get lost, throw some kind of fit and make her leave, but fuck, her hand was so light yet pressed so heavy on his leg. His head was swimming, heart racing.

“You should go,” he whispered, barely any conviction behind it.

A little higher, her thumb brushed against the top of his sack.

He shuddered, stomach tensing hard.

“Are you sure?” she asked, pushing his hand away to take the base of his cock in the tight ring of her fist.

John hissed and grabbed her wrist, locking his long fingers all the way around. She startled, but held his gaze, daring him to tell her to go.

“Don’t worry,” she whispered, suddenly older than her years, seemingly far from the innocent little doll in his fantasies. Better, sexier. “I want to.”

His grip loosened and she snagged her lip between her teeth, clearly hot and excited herself.

She stroked him slowly, keeping her eyes locked on his. Her touch was like silk, her movements expert. John held his breath when she picked up the pace, groaned when she sat higher up on her knees to reach him better.

She was rolling against nothing as she worked his cock and John snuck a hand over the ledge, plucked at her tits through her shirt. She whined beautifully and tipped her head back; throat long and exposed, begging to be bitten.

“So wrong,” he moaned, reaching up to grab a fistful of her hair. She whimpered just like he imagined and her eyes rolled back to pure white.

“Not wrong,” she said with a grin. “You and me could never be wrong…” She swirled her palm over his leaking tip. “Never.”

“God, I want you so bad.” He grit his teeth, jerked his hips up into her hand.

Y/N paused for a moment and then pulled away. She stood up and John watched in shock as she tugged the jeans from her hips. Her panties were thin and damp and she tossed them aside as well.

“Want you too, John…” Lifting her right leg, she set her heel on the tub and spread her pussy for him. “Want you to fuck me, John. Please… Please… Please… Please…”

Jaw clenched tight, he grunted loudly as he came, spilling into his own hand. Y/N vanished in a cloud of imagination and he sighed, relaxing in the empty tub.

“Fucking hell…”

Dean’s fist pounded on the door and John jumped.

“We’re back!”

John huffed and pushed himself up from the tub. “Thought I told you to leave me alone, damnit!”

There was no response, he was sure he heard Y/N laugh through the door. The bedsprings squeaked, the television snapped on.

John washed his hands and tucked himself away. Eyes back in the mirror, he shook his head.

“Keep dreaming, asshole,” he growled, hating himself for wanting her.

There was no way she would ever act like that, no way she’d ever want him the way he wanted her.

And yet, he was almost certain she gave him a teasing smile when he stepped back into the room. Sure she was eyeing him a little more than usual as they sat and watched t.v.; positive she was licking that bottle into her mouth just for him.

But fuck, it was just wrong…

#spn fanfic #john winchester x reader #john winchester fanfiction #john winchester x you

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enigmaticxbee · 11 months ago

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Tropes & More - Fic Recs

All the tropey-goodness!

Body-Swap:

Underneath Your Skin by crescentmoon222 - Dreamland AU, NSFW

What if Feels Like for a Girl by @mldrgrl - Dreamland AU, NSFW

Dreamland III by @admiralty-xfd - Dreamland sequel

Flea Market Economy by Punk

I’ll Show You Mine If You Show Me Yours by Tv_Saved_The_Teenage_Girl

Masters of Time by @sisterspooky1013 - time travel to 1960s Masters of Sex, NSFW

Times Colliding by onlytheinevitable- time travel 1998/2018 body swap, NSFW, WIP

Cubed by Louise Marin - Scully wakes up as an alternate version of herself, NSFW.

Parallel by @sisterspooky1013 - Scully wakes up as an alternate version of herself, NSFW.

Fake-Dating:

Never by Allison Kinney - Undercover, NSFW

Diversion by @sisterspooky1013 - Stakeout, NSFW

Just Another Dinner Party by @somekindofseizure - Undercover at a swingers party during Arcadia

Amish Country by Lolabeegood - Undercover with the Amish, NSFW

We’re Married Now by @skinfull - Undercover in a cult, NSFW

Hallowed by onlytheinevitable - Undercover in a cult, NSFW

More Than a Feeling by @sisterspooky1013 - Undercover at a carnival, NSFW

Undercover Swing by 2momsmakearight - Undercover at a sex party, NSFW

It’s Just Pretend by @storybycorey - Undercover in a motel, fake sex turning into real sex, NSFW

The Marriage Spectacular by @cecilysass - Lost FBI agents. Stormy weather. A marriage retreat in a mountainside inn with one room available.

The Newlywed Game by onlytheinevitable - While going out for dinner, Scully runs into an ex and Mulder valliantly pretends to be her husband. However, that little lie traps them into having to play the Newlywed Game in front of a bunch of strangers and they have to navigate admitting feelings they haven't even admitted to themselves.

Baseball Metaphors by @leiascully - Scully runs into an ex and they pretend to be dating, NSFW

Just Go With It by @skinfull - Mulder runs into old high school classmates and they pretend to be married, NSFW

The Annapolis Grant by @slippinmickeys - AU, Scully pays Mulder to play the role of her boyfriend, NSFW

Wedding/FBI Ball Date:

Plus One by @alienqueequeg - Mulder convinces Scully to let him be her plus one at an old friend's wedding, NSFW

Hardball by Missy Pennington - Scully gets a sexy red dress to wear to the FBI ball when she finds out Phoebe Green will be attending

Five Ballrooms by @admiralty-xfd - Five Christmas parties. Five separate POVs.

The Twelve Tropes of Christmas by @mangokiwitropicalswirl - Christmas ball and all the tropes

Holidays:

far away and to the west by @audries - Thanksgiving with the Gunmen

at the close of the day by @audries - Thanksgiving on the road

Fairies, Skip Hence by @slippinmickeys - Christmas at the Scullys, NSFW

Shades of Winter by @piecesofscully - Christmas at the Scullys, NSFW

Marshmallow World by @agoodwoman - Christmas 1998, set Season 6, our beloved agents are working under AD Kersh. Mulder and Scully get into the holiday spirit. NSFW

Regular People by @chimerical1975 - Thwarted Christmas plans, impulsive decisions, and unexpected visitors make two extraordinary FBI agents into regular people. NSFW

Chicken Dinner by @cecilysass - Dinner at Mrs. Scully’s. Mulder overhears Maggie speaking to her friends about her daughter’s relationship with her partner. What he hears floors him.

Gingersnap by @cecilysass - Holiday baking, NSFW

if the fates allow by @all-these-ghosts - Christmas with Mulder and Scully, 1993-2016

Birthdays by @syntax6 - seasons 1 through 7

One Bed (see Faking Dating above too):

Let’s Play a Game by @danasculllie - Motel room Truth or Dare, NSFW

Truth or Dare by Adrienne - Mulder and Scully have a wicked game of Truth or Dare while sharing that hotel room in Rain King. NSFW

Twenty-Questions and a Winter Storm by @danascully77 - NSFW

Designated Mulder by onlytheinevitable - Mulder had always wanted to see what Scully would be like drunk, but he didn't anticipate it would finally happen on the one night they had to share a bed. NSFW

Sexy Snowed-In by @peacenik0 - Mulder and Scully are snowed-in together, will they find a way to escape their boredom? NSFW

Hot and Sticky by Megan Reilly - One hotel room, two FBI Agents...and it's a hell of a hot night besides. NSFW

One room. One bed. by spooky66 - NSFW

Free Merlot at the Cool View Motor Court by @sarie-fairy - post The Rain King, NSFW

Turn that damned thing off by @sunflowerseedsandscience - The Rain King missing scene.

Time Enough At Last by bayloriffic - The Rain King missing scene.

Conversation in the Dark by Cass - The Rain King missing scene.

Stop Me by Gina Rain - post The Rain King, NSFW

Unbidden by @phillippadgettwrites - NSFW

Bunkmates by @leiascully - There's only one hotel room, and it's got a special surprise.

Expense Report by 13th_blackbird - The Bureau conducts an audit, and Scully considers the costs.

Scully/Other:

Universal Invariants by @syntax6 - set over the course of a canon-parallel version of season 1 and early season 2 where Scully’s boyfriend Ethan who was cut from the pilot sticks around. NSFW

Early On by @sunflowerseedsandscience - Mulder and Scully are drawn to each other from the start but Scully is still with Ethan. NSFW

Homicidal Tendencies by Swikstr - Casefile crossover that pairs Scully with the detective from Homicide: Life on the Street. NSFW

You He Did Not Fail by extraordinarily_ordinary - After Scully leaves the X-Files for a position in LA a case brings them back together. Starts Scully/Other but ultimately MSR. NSFW

Original Sin by @syntax6 - post FTF Scully moves to Utah. Scully/Other but great MSR. NSFW

Arizona Highways by Fialka - Visions of Melissa lead Our Heroes on a case confirming the existence of a series of Emilys. But does Melissa really have a message, or is it all in Scully’s head? Scully/Other but ultimately MSR. NSFW

No Regrets by MystPhile - During Arcadia Scully reconnects with Detective John Kresge. Ultimately MSR but not until the very end. NSFW

Promises to Keep by Prufrock’s Love - post Requiem Scully/Skinner, I really struggled with this one, but still an interesting read. NSFW

Heart’s Desire by @malibusunset - post Two Fathers/One Son Scully reconnects with an old boyfriend during a case. My favorite Scully/Other fic - ends in MSR, but it’s probably the only fic where I’ve thought that Mulder might be the wrong choice. NSFW

La Lacuna by @aloysiavirgata - Scully explores her feelings after Milagro while investigating a murder. Scully/Other but ultimately MSR. NSFW

Mulder/Other:

The Waters of Babylon by @aloysiavirgata - As they prepare to become Rob and Laura Petrie, Mulder thinks back on his life and the paths not taken.

Seventeen by @scapegrace74-blog - Explores how Mulder's sexual relationships shaped (and mis-shaped) him as a man. Each chapter represents a different partner. Mulder/Other, ultimately MSR, NSFW

Triptych by @iconicscullyoutfits - married to Diana AU, ultimately MSR

To Love Somebody by Tess and Jacquie LaVa - In the midst of attempting to have a normal romance, Mulder's escalating feelings for Scully, and her deteriorating health due to her advancing cancer, make it impossible for him to commit... Mulder/Other but ultimately MSR. NSFW

The Guts by @wtfmulder - How would Scully react if Mulder dropped an open condom wrapper in front of her? MSR but dealing with Diana.

Dr. Scully's School for Exceptional Boys by Prufrock’s Love - post series, Mulder/Other and MSR, NSFW

One for the Road by @phillippadgettwrites - post breakup, Mulder has a girlfriend but mostly MSR, NSFW

Pregnancy/Baby/Family:

The Family G-Man by Neoxphile and FelineFemme - A double tragedy strikes Mulder the week before Christmas of 2003. What if he could go back and change things, save the son one lost and give the other the family she wanted? Could it keep them safe? NSFW

Five Years and a Lifetime by @monikafilefan @slippinmickeys - One night stand AU. Five years later, Scully and Mulder work at the same pediatric hospital, and Scully's four year old daughter bears a striking resemblance to the picture of a dark haired girl that sits on Mulder's desk... NSFW

In the Best Interest of the Child by @mldrgrl - AU When tragedy strikes, Mulder is forced to take guardianship of his young niece, but the matter is complicated by the arrival of a sister-in-law he's never met.

The Way Things Are by Sukie Tawdry - One night and their whole lives were changed forever. Season 1 AU. NSFW

Right Hand Return by humphreywrites - Scully is returned from her abduction with a baby, no memories of anything prior to her captivity and some PTSD.

All That Is Dark and Bright by @malibusunset - Emily lives AU. NSFW

Five Years and One Night by Shalimar - Scully leaves the X-Files post-Emily but gets drawn back in when Mulder discovers Emily wasn’t the only child created. NSFW

Intimacy Deux by Mojo - The one in five billion happens. NSFW

40 Weeks by @malibusunset - What if the IVF attempt in Per Manum had been successful? NSFW

A Boy and His Fox by 6hoursgirl - What happens when two FBI agents have a platonic relationship based on trust and mutual respect...and an exchange of genetic material. NSFW

The 13th Sign and 7 Days in May by Prufrock’s Love - Post-Deadalive. Mulder saw no reason for life, death, sex, Armageddon, or emotional dysfunction to stand in the way of true love.

Hurricane Season by rah and beduini - Post-Existence week at the beach with the Scully family and baby Wim. NSFW

Terra Firma series by @malibusunset - Post-Existence domestic family drama, a classic comfort read for me. NSFW

Misc:

Partners With Benefits by onlytheinevitable - Friends with benefits, NSFW

Truncated by Lysandra31 - Scully and Mulder find themselves in a tight spot. Spooning ensues.

You Send Me by @spooky-nerd - Portals keep popping up around Mulder. It's rather inconvenient until he realizes it's possible the universe is trying to tell him something.

#xf fanfic #tropes #body swap #fake dating #one bed #long post

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doctorbitchcrxft · 1 year ago

Text

Home | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Eventual)

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore, mention of parental death, mentions of abuse

Word Count: 4388

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You sat cross-legged on the floor of the boys’ motel room, sipping a coffee you’d run out to get earlier that morning. Dean was on his computer, and you were responding to the potential cases he’d found.

“A fishing trawler found off the coast of Cali—” Dean started.

“Ooh, I like Cali,” you cut him off.

“—Its crew vanished.” He finished.

“And, uh, we got some cattle mutilations in West Texas.”

“Meh, that’s boring. Let somebody else handle that one,” you dismissed.

Dean noticed Sam hadn’t spoken in just about the last hour. He was frantically scribbling on a notepad.

“Hey,” Dean called to his brother. “Am I boring you with this hunting evil stuff?”

“No. I’m listening. Keep going.”

He clearly wasn’t.

“And, here, a Sacramento man shot himself in the head. Three times.”

“Ooh, I like that one,” you said.

Dean leaned over and waved a hand in front of Sam’s face. “Any of these things blowin’ up your skirt, pal?”

Sam furrowed his eyebrows at his notepad. “Wait. I’ve seen this.”

“Seen what?” you asked.

Sam got up from his bed and began rifling through his duffel bag.

“What are you doing?” Dean eyed his brother strangely.

The younger brother pulled out a photo from the bag and held it up next to his drawing. You couldn’t quite see what he was looking at from where you sat.

“Guys, I know where we have to go next.”

“Where?” Dean asked.

“Back home. Back to Kansas,” he responded.

The older brother was surprised. “Okay, random. Where’d that come from?”

He showed the photo to the two of you. “Alright, um, this photo was taken in front of our old house, right? The house where Mom died?”

“Yeah…?” Dean still had no idea where he was going with this.

“And it didn’t burn down, right? I mean, not completely, they rebuilt it, right?”

Dean— as well as you— was still lost. “I guess so, yeah. What the hell are you talkin’ about?”

“Okay, look, this is gonna sound crazy but… the people who live in our old house— I think they might be in danger,” Sam rushed out.

“Why would you think that?” you questioned.

“Uh… it’s just, um… look, just trust me on this, okay?” Sam turned away.

“Wait, whoa, whoa, trust you?” Dean shook his head and stood to follow him. “Come on, man, that’s weak. You gotta give us a little bit more than that.”

“I can’t really explain it is all,” Sam shrugged.

“Well, tough. I’m not goin’ anywhere until you do.”

You turned to face Sam as he began to explain. “I have these nightmares.”

You nodded. “We’ve noticed.”

“And sometimes… they come true.”

Dean was stunned. “Come again?”

“Look, Dean… I dreamt about Jessica’s death— for days before it happened,” Sam explained.

“Sam, people have weird dreams, man. I’m sure it’s just a coincidence.” Dean sat back down on the edge of his bed.

“No,” the younger brother protested. “I dreamt about the blood dripping, her on the ceiling, the fire, everything, and I didn’t do anything about it ‘cause I didn’t believe it. And now I’m dreaming about that tree, about our house, and about some woman inside screaming for help. I mean, that’s where it all started, man, this has to mean something, right?”

You felt overwhelmed, and so did Dean. “I don’t know.”

Sam sat down across from his brother. “What do you mean you don’t know, Dean? This woman might be in danger. I mean, this might even be the thing that killed Mom and Jessica!”

“Sam, slow down—” you urged him, knowing Dean was about to go through the roof.

Sure enough, Dean stood and started pacing. “I mean, first you tell me that you’ve got the Shining? And then you tell me that I’ve gotta go back home? Especially when….”

“When what?” you asked.

Dean’s voice broke for the first time since you’d met him. “When I swore to myself that I would never go back there?”

Sam’s puppy dog eyes appeared as he spoke softly, “Look, Dean, we have to check this out. Just to make sure.”

Dean nodded. “I know we do.”

***

You looked out at the boys’ childhood home and followed them up to the front door.

“You gonna be alright, man?” Sam asked his brother who didn’t respond.

“Jury’s still out on that,” you muttered in response.

Dean knocked on the front door, and a young woman answered. You could see a look of recognition pass over Sam’s face.

“Yes?” the woman said.

“Sorry to bother you, ma’am, but we’re with the Federal—”

One Winchester cut the other off. “I’m Sam Winchester, and this is my brother, Dean. We used to live here. You know, we were just drivin’ by, and we were wondering if we could come see the old place.”

The woman seemed surprised and smiled. “Winchester. Yeah, that’s so funny. You know, I think I found some of your photos the other night.” She turned to you. “Are you a Winchester, too? I didn’t see a little girl in any of the pictures.”

You shook your head. “No, no. Just a friend. (Y/N).”

She smiled at you. “Nice to meet you. Come on in.”

Inside the home, a girl who looked to be around seven sat at the table doing homework, and a little boy who was presumably two jumped in his playpen.

“Juice! Juice! Juice! Juice!” the toddler called excitedly.

“That’s Ritchie. He’s kind of a juice junkie,” Jenny explained, taking a sippy cup from the fridge and bringing it to her son. “But, hey, at least he won’t get scurvy.” She walked back over to her daughter. “Sari, this is Sam, Dean, and (Y/N). The boys used to live here.”

“Hi,” the shy girl said quietly.

You waved.

“So, you just moved in?” Dean asked.

“Yeah, from Wichita.”

“You got family here, or…?”

Jenny’s smile faded. “No. I just, uh… needed a fresh start, that’s all. So, new town, new job— I mean, as soon as I find one. New house.”

“So, how you likin’ it so far?” Sam questioned.

Jenny laughed awkwardly. “Well, uh, all due respect to your childhood home— I mean, I’m sure you had lots of happy memories here—”

You discreetly turned to see Dean smile weakly.

“But this place has its issues,” she finished.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“Well, it’s just getting old. Like the wiring, you know? We’ve got flickering lights almost hourly.”

That caught your attention. “Oh, that’s too bad. What else?”

“Um…sink’s backed up, there’s rats in the basement…” She trailed off. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to complain.”

Dean shook his head. “No. Have you seen the rats or have you just heard scratching?”

Jenny looked at him quizzically. “It’s just the scratching, actually.”

Sari tugged on her mom’s shirt, who stooped down next to her. “Ask them if it was here when they lived here.”

“What, Sari?” Sam asked.

“The thing in my closet,” she whispered as if the thing would hear.

“Oh, no, baby, there was nothing in their closets.” Jenny looked up to you and the boys. “Right?”

They shook their heads.

“She had a nightmare the other night,” Jenny explained.

Sari’s voice suddenly got louder. “I wasn’t dreaming. It came into my bedroom and it was on fire.”

The boys seemed too shocked to speak.

You took over. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. You’re okay now though, right?”

She nodded.

“See? It didn’t get ya. It was only a dream.”

You knew it wasn’t. A pit filled your stomach after saying your goodbyes to the family and heading out of the door.

“You hear that? A figure on fire,” Sam reminded the two of you.

“And that woman, Jenny, that was the woman in your dreams?” Dean asked.

"Yeah. And you hear what she was talking about? Scratching, flickering lights, both signs of a malevolent spirit.”

“Yeah, well, I’m just freaked out that your weirdo visions are comin’ true,” the older brother chuckled humorlessly.

“Well, forget about that for a minute. The thing in the house, do you think it’s the thing that killed Mom and Jessica?”

“I don’t know!” Dean responded.

The brothers were only making each other panic worse at this point.

“Well, I mean, has it come back or has it been here the whole time?” Sam inquired.

“Or maybe it’s something else entirely, Sam, we don’t know yet.”

“Both of you need to calm down,” you told them, simultaneously getting in the car. “We’re gonna get those people safe. Whatever’s in there is not gonna hurt you or those people.”

“Thank you, Dr. Phil,” Dean remarked.

You snapped into a more intense tone, leaning over the backseat. “Look, dude, you’re gonna get your shit together. The two of you are only ramping each other up. Now, you are going to get a grip or I will do this job on my own.”

Sam and Dean both nodded.

“You’re runnin’ low on gas, Dee.” You patted Dean’s cheek before sitting back against your chair.

***

“We just gotta chill out, that’s all,” Dean said as he pumped gas.

“I’ve tried telling you that eighty times since we left that house.”

He ignored your snide comment. “You know, if this was any other kind of job, what would we do?”

"We’d try to figure out what we were dealin’ with. We’d dig into the history of the house,” Sam sighed.

"Exactly,” the older brother began, “except this time, we already know what happened.”

"Yeah, but how much do we know? I mean, how much do you actually remember?”

"About that night, you mean?”

"Yeah.”

Dean paused. “Not much. I remember the fire… the heat. And then I carried you out the front door.”

You looked at the floor, knowing how hard this must be for him to open up.

“You did?” the younger Winchester asked.

"Yeah, what, you never knew that?”

"No.”

“And, well, you know Dad’s story as well as I do. Mom was— was on the ceiling. And whatever put her there was long gone by the time Dad found her.”

“And he never had a theory about what did it?”

“If he did, he kept it to himself. God knows we asked him enough times.”

"Okay. So, if we’re gonna figure out what’s goin’ on now…we have to figure out what happened back then. And see if it’s the same thing.”

You decided to add your two cents. “Yeah. We can talk to your dad’s friends, neighbors, people who were there at the time.”

Silence blanketed the three of you for a moment, the air feeling heavy.

“Does this feel like just another job to you?” Sam piped up.

‘Of course, it doesn’t,’ you thought.

Dean kept quiet for a moment. “I’ll be right back,” he finally said. “I gotta go to the bathroom.” He walked away, and you watched him turn the corner around the gas station. He looked back for a moment, and you assumed it was to see if anyone had followed him.

You furrowed your brows. You allowed a few minutes to pass before you announced to Sam, “I’m gonna go check on Dean.”

While you turned the corner, you saw Dean exiting the bathroom door. He sniffled and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. When he noticed you, he tried to shoulder his normal attitude.

“You stalkin’ me?”

“No, actually, I came to check on you.”

“Well, I’m fine.” He went to brush past you.

You grabbed his bicep. “Don’t lie to me.”

He stopped, looking you over. “I’m fine, sweetheart.”

“Then what’s this?” you gently brushed your first finger under his chin, picking up a tear he had forgotten to wipe away. You held it up for him to see.

Dean opened his mouth to say something before snapping it shut again. He gently pulled his arm out of your grip. “C’mon, let’s go.” He started walking away from you.

You caught up to him, asking, “Are you sure you don’t just want me to do this one by myself?”

He nodded sharply.

Sam gave you a curious look while Dean got in the car.

You shook your head before the two of you ducked into the Impala simultaneously.

***

The three of you spoke to a man who had owned a car garage with John years ago. You learned how much John had changed before Mary’s death versus after, and you began to understand why Dean was the way he was. You also learned that he had been going to see a palm reader in town. Dean recognized the names of one of the palm readers Sam had read from a compiled list: Missouri Moseley. The three of you went over to her house and waited in her foyer as she finished with her last client.

She guided the client out of the door. “Alright, there. Don’t you worry ‘bout a thing. Your wife is crazy about you.”

The man thanked her, and she closed the door behind you.

She addressed the three of you. “Whew. Poor bastard. His woman is cold-bangin’ the gardener.”

You giggled.

“Why didn’t you tell him?” Dean asked.

“People don’t come here for the truth. They come for good news,” the woman explained. You stared at her, as did the boys.

“Well? Sam, Dean, (Y/N), come on already, I ain’t got all day.”

You looked at Dean. You knew you hadn’t told her your name. The three of you followed her into the next room.

“Well, lemme look at ya,” she smiled at the boys. “Oh, you boys grew up handsome.” She pointed her finger at Dean. “And you were one goofy-lookin’ kid, too.”

You giggled again. You liked her a lot.

“Sam.” Missouri grabbed his hand. “Oh, honey…I’m sorry about your girlfriend. And your father— he’s missin’?”

“How’d you know all that?” Sam asked her.

“Well, you were just thinkin’ it just now.”

“Well, where is he? Is he okay?” Dean questioned.

Missouri’s smile faded. “I don’t know.”

“Don’t know? Well, you’re supposed to be a psychic, right?”

“Boy, you see me sawin’ some bony tramp in half? You think I’m a magician? I may be able to read thoughts and sense energies in a room, but I can’t just pull facts out of thin air. Sit, please.”

You smirked at Sam and sat down.

Missouri snapped at Dean. “Boy, you put your foot on my coffee table, I’m ‘a whack you with a spoon!”

“I didn’t do anything!” he responded.

“But you were thinkin’ about it.”

Dean raised an eyebrow, and you and Sam smiled.

“(Y/N), honey, I didn’t mean to completely disregard you,” she smiled at you. “(Y/L/N)... where do I know that name from?” She pondered for a moment and her smile faded. “I knew your dad. Mean ol’ bastard.”

Your throat clenched. You could feel the boys looking at you, but you kept your eyes on Missouri.

“I don’t mean to embarrass you,” she went on. “I’m just sorry about what he did to you. And your brother? You poor thing.” She tsked.

Tears welled in your eyes.

Sam knew he should change the subject. “Okay. So, our dad— when did you first meet him?”

“He came for a reading. A few days after the fire. I just told him what was really out there in the dark. I guess you could say I drew back the curtains for him,” Missouri explained.

“What about the fire? Do you know about what killed our mom?” Dean questioned.

“A little. Your daddy took me to your house. He was hopin’ I could sense the echoes, the fingerprints of this thing.”

“And could you?”

You tried to focus on the conversation, but your throat was still choked up. You could vaguely register them talking about what Missouri sensed in their house and how she had been keeping an eye on the place since Mary’s passing. All you could focus on were the memories you were being pulled back into. Memories of what your father put you through and how your mother just stood by. Memories of defending your brother against your father’s wickedness. You tried your best to pull yourself back to the light; you knew Missouri could hear what you were thinking. You wouldn’t let yourself be weak enough to let your father hurt you eight years after his death.

“Baby, you are not weak.” Missouri’s voice pulled you back to shore. “I’m sorry I brought all that up for you.”

You nodded at her, voice too weak to respond. Sam squeezed your hand, and you could feel Dean’s gaze boring into the side of your head.

***

You and the boys headed back to their childhood home with Missouri. You still couldn’t register what was going on outside of your own head. You knew Missouri hadn’t truly brought anything up for you; these memories were all just buried under the surface for you. Hunting didn’t exactly leave much time for you to dwell on your emotions.

Jenny allowed Missouri to come into her home and showed her and your trio into Sari’s bedroom. You were beginning to come back to earth and could focus on the conversation happening around you.

“If there’s a dark energy around here, this room should be the center of it,” Missouri explained, walking around Sari’s room.

“Why?” Sam asked.

Missouri turned to him. “This used to be your nursery, Sam. This is where it all happened.”

Dean pulled out his repurposed walkman.

“That an EMF?” Missouri asked.

“Yeah,” Dean answered.

“Amateur,” she deadpanned.

You noticed the EMF was beeping frantically.

“I don’t know if you boys should be disappointed or relieved, but this ain’t the thing that took your mom,” Missouri told the Winchesters.

“Wait, are you sure?” Sam furrowed his eyebrows.

She nodded.

“How do you know?”

“It isn’t the same energy I felt the last time I was here. It’s somethin’ different.”

“What is it?” Dean asked.

“Not it.” Missouri opened the closer. “Them. There’s more than one spirit in this place.”

“What are they doing here?” Dean asked.

“They’re here because of what happened to your family. You see, all those years ago, real evil came to you. It walked this house. That kind of evil leaves wounds. And sometimes, wounds get infected,” Missouri elaborated.

Sam shook his head. “I don’t understand.”

“This place is a magnet for paranormal energy. It’s attracted a poltergeist. A nasty one. And it won’t rest until Jenny and her babies are dead.”

“You said there was more than one spirit.”

“There is. I just can’t quite make out the second one.”

Dean’s voice became hard. “Well, one thing’s for damn sure— nobody’s dyin’ in this house ever again. So whatever is here, how do we stop it?”

***

After Missouri taught you how to pack small protection bags that you and the boys were to place in the cardinal points on both floors in Jenny’s house, you had to get Jenny and her kids out of harm's way.

“Look, I’m not sure I’m comfortable leaving you guys here alone,” she told Missouri.

“Just take your kids to the movies or somethin’, and it’ll be over by the time you get back.”

You could tell the woman was still unsure, but she followed orders anyway. And with that, the four of you got to work.

When you were halfway done with the job, things started to get ugly. Just as you were about to place your second and final bag in the wall of Jenny’s bedroom, a cord snaked around your neck and pulled tightly. You dropped the bag of herbs to the ground; unable to get it into the wall in time. You gasped for air, frantically reaching for the bag but the spirit’s hold was too strong. Your vision began to spot and your face contorted in discomfort; doing the best you could to get air in your lungs. It was no use. Just when you thought it was over, Dean rushed to your side.

“(Y/N)!” he cried, pulling at the cord with all his might.

You clawed at your neck with one hand and motioned to the bag of herbs with the other. Dean understood what you were trying to say, and kicked a hole in the wall. He quickly put the bag inside, and your neck was released. Your head fell to the ground gasping for air.

Dean pulled you into a fierce hug that left you breathless. He pulled back from you, holding your face on either side. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, still trying to catch your breath. He gingerly touched the place where the cord had undoubtedly bruised your neck. “Can you stand?”

You nodded again. With Dean’s help, you made your way down to Missouri and Sam who stood in the middle of an extremely messy kitchen. Jenny’s kitchen table had been turned on its side with knives driven through the top of it, assumedly by the ghosts. The refrigerator door was swung wide open, and various items from the pantry had spilled out all over the place.

“You sure this is over?” Sam asked the psychic.

“I’m sure. Why? Why do you ask?”

Sam sighed in response. “Never mind. It’s nothin’, I guess.”

The front door opened.

“Hello? We’re home,” Jenny announced when she walked into the house. She came into the kitchen, dumbfounded by the mess. “What happened?”

"Hi, sorry. Um, we’ll pay for all of this,” Sam told her.

“Don’t you worry. Dean’s gonna clean up this mess,” Missouri added.

Dean stood glued to his spot.

“Well, what are you waiting for, boy? Get the mop.”

He glared at Missouri, but began walking away nonetheless.

“And don’t cuss at me!”

***

You remained confused by how Dean had hugged you for the rest of the night which you spent in the Impala parked in front of Jenny’s house.

“Alright, so, tell me again, what are we still doin’ here?” Dean asked his brother.

“I don’t know. I just… I still have a bad feeling,” he responded.

“Why? Missouri did her whole Zelda Rubenstein thing, the house should be clean, it should be over.”

“Yeah, well, probably. But I just wanna make sure, that’s all.”

Dean slumped down in his seat. “Yeah, well, problem is I could be sleeping in a bed right now.”

You slumped down in your seat, too, only to see Jenny screaming and banging on her bedroom window. “Guys, look!”

The three of you rushed into the house.

“You two grab the kids, I’ll get Jenny,” Dean said.

You nodded and sprinted to Ritchie’s room. The sleeping toddler was startled when you woke him up, but allowed you to carry him downstairs nonetheless. You met Sam by the front door who said to Sari, “Take your brother outside as fast as you can, and don’t look back.” She obliged and took the little boy from you.

Before the two of you could do anything else, you were slammed to the ground and dragged backward across the tile floor. You could hear poor Sari screaming as you and Sam were dragged away.

You were pinned to the wall by an invisible force and pushed up toward the ceiling. You could hear presumably Dean hacking away at the door, trying desperately to get in as a figure on fire approached you.

Dean made his way into the home and called your names frantically. He raised his gun at the fire figure when he caught sight of it.

“No, don’t! Don’t!” Sam cried.

“What, why?!” you asked.

“Because I know who it is. I can see her now.”

And then, the fire vanished revealing who you recognized from pictures as Mary Winchester. She was wearing a white nightgown and her blonde hair billowed softly around her. Her feet were bare, and her aging skin was only slightly wrinkled.

You could see tears rising in Dean’s eyes as he lowered his gun. “Mom?”

The woman smiled and stepped closer to him. “Dean.”

She walked toward you and her youngest son. “Sam.” Her smile faded. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” he asked.

She looked at him sadly, but said nothing.

The woman turned to you last. “Thank you,” she said.

You smiled back at her, though you weren’t quite sure what she was thanking you for.

She turned away and looked up toward the ceiling. “You get out of my house. And let go of my son.” Her hair and nightgown were swept up into flames once more. The fire licked up to the ceiling, growing larger before disappearing entirely. You and Sam were released from the wall at once.

“Now it’s over,” Sam muttered.

***

The sun had risen while you and the boys were in the house. You called Missouri back to the Winchesters’ childhood home, and she sat on the porch talking with Sam.

You were standing with Dean by the car looking through his old family photos.

“Thanks for these,” Dean told Jenny.

“Don’t thank me, they’re yours.”

Dean put the trunk of photos and family memorabilia in the car. You and Dean bid Jenny, who thanked you, goodbye before leaning against the car together. The two of you knew you had a lot to talk about, but you weren’t brave enough to start the conversation.

“Are you okay?” Dean asked you.

You couldn’t look at him. “Why do you ask?”

“I think you know.”

You paused a moment before turning to face him. “I promise I’ll tell you, just… not today.” You stuck out your pinkie for him to take.

He chuckled at you. “What are we, five?”

“Just do it, asshole,” you smiled back.

He linked his pinkie with yours, shaking your hand back and forth lightly. The two of you stood there for a second, staring at each other and getting lost in the moment. Before long, you both realized what was going on and jerked away from each other.

Dean scratched his head. “Sam, you ready?” he called.

Sam nodded and came over to the car.

“Don’t you kids be strangers,” Missouri told you.

“We won’t,” Dean responded.

“See you around,” the woman winked at you.

You smiled at her before getting in the car and driving away.

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @iloveshawn @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @davina-clairee @chervbs @thepocketverse @simpingdeadcharacters @elqsiian @stillhere197 @stephshaww @tearsforhan @take-it-on-the-run @iloveyou2mia @maxinehufflepuffprincess @doublecrazyyymofo

#dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x y/n #dean winchester x you #dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean x you #dean winchester #supernatural #spn #supernatural series rewrite #spn series rewrite

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vintagelasvegas · 5 months ago

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Moulin Rouge Hotel & Casino

May 1955, opening week. Photo by Loomis Dean.

Timeline, in progress ...

‘54: Mar. 29, Las Vegas City Commission approves construction of Moulin Rouge. The project was launched by a group of partners including New York restaurateur Louis Rubin, Beverly Hills developer Alexander Bisno (Bisno & Bisno), and smaller investors.

‘54: Jul. 16, Groundbreaking.

‘55: May 24, MR preview opening, and debut Tropi-Can-Can show in the Cafe Rouge Theatre Restaurant; public opening follows on May 26. Owners, the Moulin Rouge Associates, include Bisno, Rubin, Henry Bisno, among a group of over 20. Possible other owners include Joe Louis (2%), Joe West, Aron Blum, Edna Shulman, and Mark Lipsky. African-American staff include Joe Louis, host; Sonny Boswell, former Harlem Globetrotters, general manager; Jimmy Gay of Las Vegas, personnel director. "The hotel portion of the Moulin Rouge is not fully completed as yet" (RJ 5/27/55). MR's "late show" starts from the opening. "There's a great late show every night of the year at Moulin Rouge" (advertisement, RJ 5/24/55)

‘55: Jun. 1, first known lawsuit against MR from contractor, Lawrence Hawthorne. (RJ 6/1/55)

‘55: Oct. 5, City of Las Vegas threatens MR license unless finances and owners are disclosed.

‘55: Oct. 10, MR closes following legal action taken by Bartenders Union Local 165 and Culinary 226 over unpaid wages.

‘55: Oct. 19, MR files petition for bankruptcy.

‘56: Nov. 27, Bankruptcy sale. Lone bid of $470,000 rejected.

‘58: Nov., Leo Frey (Leroy Investment Co.) awarded the hotel by court. Frey, “a sizeable investor in the original corporation which owned the hotel and the partnership which operated it” (RJ 11/25/58). Frey is denied gaming license, reopens hotel and coffee shop. Other individuals later denied gaming license “because of unsuitable backgrounds of the landlords Leo, Herbert, and Karl Frey” (RJ 3/21/69).

‘85: Joe & Sarann Preddy, and Joe Walker lease Club Rouge and the bar.

‘90: Preddy & Walker group takes over ownership from Leroy Co., secures liquor and gaming license.

‘92: Moulin Rouge listed on National Register of Historic Places.

‘97: Sold to Bart Maybie.

‘03: Fire destroys much of the property.

‘04: Moulin Rouge Development Corp. buys property.

‘08: MRD Corp. files for bankruptcy.

‘09: Olympic Coast Investment takes ownership; another fire; sign donated and moved to Neon Museum; tower demolished in 2010.

‘12: OCI files bankruptcy.

‘17: Fire; last remains of MR and Montemartre Motel demolished.

Photos of Moulin Rouge

Entertainment. The Tropi-Can-Can Revue was the Moulin Rouge's featured entertainment, no headliner. Las Vegas resorts usually had two shows per evening, or a third late show on weekends. Moulin Rouge's Tropi-Can-Can included a late show every night – 8 PM, 11 PM and 2 AM. The revue in May 1955 included Stump and Stumpy, The Platters (Reed, Lynch, Williams, Robi, Taylor), Timmie Rogers, Margie McGlory, Teddy Hale, The Honey-Tones, Ann Weldon, Bob Bailey as master of ceremonies, and 20-27 dancers (sources vary) including Delcenia Boyd (16 years old), Norma Tolbert, Dee Dee Jasmin, Mary Louise Randolph, and Anna Bailey (28 y/o). The Platters recorded their hit version of "Only You" a month before the opening of Moulin Rouge, and the record was released summer '55.

Moulin Rouge Show Girls Arrive in Vegas. Review-Journal, 5/9/55.

5/23/55 – Jay Florian Mitchell Photo Collection, Nevada State Museum.

Sources include: City to Hear Both Sides. Review-Journal, 7/6/54 p2; Vegas' Newest Hotel Moulin Rouge Opens. Review-Journal, 5/25/55 p3; Capacity Crowd. Review-Journal, 5/27/55 p1; City Threatens Moulin Rouge License Over Ownership Fuss. Review-Journal, 10/5/55; Another Suit Against Spa. Review-Journal, 10/7/55 p3; Moulin Rouge Re-Financing Sought After Casino is Closed. Review-Journal, 10/11/55; No Action Against Spa Licenses. Review-Journal, 10/20/55; Couple trades parcel of land to get Moulin Rouge Hotel. Review Journal, 1/26/90; Earnest N. Bracey. Winter ‘96. The Moulin Rouge Mystique: Blacks and Equal Rights in Las Vegas, Nevada Historical Society Quarterly, Vol. 39, No. 4, p. 272-288; Nicole Raz. Light Touch Needed. Review Journal, 8/7/2016; An Interview with Katherine M. Joseph (OH-00979), Mary Louise Williams oral history interview (OH-01991), and Anna Bailey oral history interview (OH-00096), UNLV Special Collections & Archives; William H. “Bob” Bailey. Looking Up: Finding My Voice in Las Vegas (2009).

#1955 #Moulin Rouge #Loomis Dean

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feeder86 · 1 year ago

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The Wolf and the Pig

Gray had tried to warn them. He’d said, quite plainly, that he could manage the station by himself and that didn’t need anyone else here with him. For the most part, they’d listened. He’d had five years with hardly any interference and he had managed his vast, remote area of the national park without a single incident to mark his record. Perhaps that was why they’d sent Callum here: to learn from the best.

It had been the night of the full moon when Gray had found out about the new recruit and he’d descended into a rage unlike any other; ending in his decimation of the local wildlife in a way that would take the ecosystem many months to recover from.

Being alone was the best way for Gray to manage his curse. He was the lone wolf, living in an environment that best suited the nature of his true self. It had been fifteen years since he had been bitten, as a young recruit for the National Park Rangers. In that time, and with each passing full moon, he’d come more and more to resemble the creature of the night. He’d grown hairy, strong and lean; his handsome features darkening and his stature increasingly intimidating. On the rare occasions that he came across people in his job, they never even considered questioning his authority or status.

Keeping people away from Gray wasn’t about protecting them. It was about territory. He knew that if someone else was posted here, they’d eventually get in his way on the full moon and he’d end up biting them. If the curse was able to manifest within them, there’d be two of them here, hunting in the same patch. And that would never do.

From the first email, Gray was hostile with Callum. He got a sense of the young guy quite quickly: eager, knowledgeable and passionate about conservation. He was going to be a nightmare, getting in his face and asking inane questions over the many months of his placement. Gray had tried to fight it, to not cooperate, but it had all come to nothing. Callum was already on his way.

The harshest of winters was over and the Spring was well underway as Gray drove the many miles out west to the location that Callum needed picking up from. They’d put him up in a motel for the night, which, despite its basic appearance, would probably be a lot more comfortable than the reserve station he’d be sharing with Gray from now on. As Gray drove into the parking lot, the guy was already there, dressed in his new uniform and carrying a massive backpack, ready to leave. He smiled keenly and reached out his hand to shake Gray’s, as if he had genuinely been excited for this moment for the last few weeks.

Gray pretended not to notice, shuffling to the back of the vehicle to secure something that had come loose on the journey down from the mountains. He was late arriving, deliberately so, having spent the last hour picking up supplies at a sluggish pace, knowing that Callum was waiting. However, Gray looked back as a slightly deflated Callum pulled off his backpack and slung it inside the truck. He was a tall, surprisingly pretty-looking thing, with an incredibly lean frame and tiny butt. He was no doubt toned underneath all those clothes, but Gray smirked to himself, already feeling a sense of superiority based upon the massive amount of muscle he had in comparison.

The first hour in the truck was painfully tense, as an awkward Callum tried to make small talk. Then, as the roads became more inclined and dangerous, the twenty-two year old simply sat, silently glued into his seat, clutching anything he could as Gray threw the vehicle about at speed, knowing these challenging roads better than anyone else in the entire world. Gray could hear the boy’s heart beating wildly and smelt the emerging scent of him as the sweat began to pump out of his body. Over the years, he’d developed an odd sense for judging humans and he smirked, seeming to intuitively know that Callum was never going to be the alpha male type.

“You’re on your own tonight. I’m off to check out some reports of poaching east of the river. I’ll have to camp there this evening,” Gray explained a couple of weeks’ later, knowing that the full moon would soon be upon them.

“What reports?” Callum asked, already across everything at the station, like the overly keen nerd he’d turned out to be. “I’ve not come across anything.”

“I’ve been here for ten years. I’ve got my own contacts who let me know what’s going on out there,” Gray shot back; shutting Callum down as soon as the guy tried to scold him for not logging it officially. But still the young guy looked at him with suspicion. He’d already come to learn that Gray didn’t always do things by the book; that he was overly aggressive and intimidating when dealing with potentisl conflicts in the park, as well as an almost unnecessarily private person.

Gray didn’t remember all of it. He never could. He’d done as he’d promissed and camped many miles away from the station. But there had been a chase of some kind whilst in his wolf form that night. He’d drifted towards the south and west. Perhaps he had caused a stir in the forests that had aroused Callum’s suspicions, given that Gray had accidentally seeded the idea of poachers, but he remembered coming across a human beside a vehicle, carrying a flashlight. There’d been an altercation; the taste of blood and Gray had then continued his hunt, waking far from his camp and needing to hike back, barefoot and naked, as soon as the sun rose.

It wasn’t until the evening that Gray returned, having slept for several hours in the tent afterwards, trying to recover his strength. He saw Callum sitting with his back to him, looking at the computer screen. He would have seen Gray pulling in on the monitor, but he hadn’t got up to welcome him, having realised that his friendliness towards Gray would never be reciprocated.

That was when Gray saw it: the bandaged forearm on Callum’s left arm; not broken, but still with blood leaking through in patches. The sight of it made the vague recollections of the night before cement themselves properly in Gray’s mind.

“What happened to you?” Gray asked, knowing the answer but determined to make one last vain attempt at denying the truth.

Callum turned, looking sweaty and vague. “I came across a wolf last night,” he explained, lifting his arm up with his other hand to demonstrate how sore it was. “The biggest I’ve ever seen in my life. I got lucky that he was hunting something else, otherwise it could have been a lot worse.” He bristled and looked accusingly at Gray. “And, since I was on my own here last night, I had to drive myself one-handed, all the way to the local hospital for a tetanus shot. I’ve only just got back.”

Gray rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, though not quite for the reasons Callum might have assumed. “Well, that’s what it’s like out here. If you don’t like it, you know where the door is.”

With his usual bravado, Gray marched across the space and into the shower room, closing the door behind him. It had been so long since he had bitten someone, he had almost forgotten what it was like. He looked at himself in the mirror, seeing that his skin was still grimy, despite washing in the river that morning. Then a smirk spread across his face. He’d known Callum for a couple of weeks by this point, knew his scent and character. His body would fight the curse and most likely be successful. But in doing so, it would provide Gray with more entertainment than he had had in many years. It was exactly what the pretty little upstart deserved. This was going to be interesting…

Callum’s wound healed with surprising speed and the boy was soon back to normal, irritating the life out of Gray. His body was enjoying the reprieve, not necessarily realising that the building moon of the next month would be launching an attack on his body that he would never see coming. He began to look feverish the night before the full moon and slept the entirety of the next day, fighting the infection. Pleased that he no longer needed to hide, Gray simply stripped off that night under the moonlight and embraced his transformation.

Callum’s fever broke two days later and the young man seemed surprised to see Gray standing over him with a cool towel and reaching for a glass of water.

“How’re you feeling?” Gray asked, managing to make himself sound genuinely sympathetic. He looked down at Callum’s body; even skinnier than usual, dehydrated and weak. Nonetheless, it had been victorious. After all, Callum had not transformed into a wolf. For Gray, it had been a very different story, all those years ago. His body had put up no fight at all, and he had become a wolf with each moon since he was twenty years old.

“Like I’ve been run over by a bus…” Callum sighed, lifting a limp hand to help Gray feed him the glass of water.

“You’ll be okay now. I’ve seen this a lot out here. Give it another day and you’ll be up on your feet like nothing’s happened.”

Callum put his head down again and sighed with disbelief. Nevertheless, he recovered just as quickly as Gray had predicted, scrambling around in the kitchen area, even after Gray had made him a hearty meal. Gray watched the boy with a secret glee. Whilst Callum’s conscious self might have been oblivious, his body certainly knew that there was a war going on. He’d survived this month, but he’d need to be stronger for the next full moon if it was going to overcome the curse. And so, Gray sat back and smirked, seeing the slender pretty-boy suddenly develop the most ravenous of appetites.

Gray didn’t often head out for supplies, given how far from civilization the station actually was. However, in the larder, there were vast supplies of everything needed out here, including mountains of prepackaged energy snacks, required for days out on hikes in the wilderness. Within three weeks, an overcome Callum had decimated every last bit of it. Each day since the full moon, his body had taken in masses and masses of food; a consistent gigant overdose of calories that had quickly started to make its mark on his body. Like a tank, being loaded with fuel, Callum’s body had deposited those calories within fresh fat that quickly formed a plushiness under his skin. Budding lovehandles had started to push their way out of his sides and there was general, lethargic, heavy plod to his steps as he lazily went from the computer screen, to the truck, and back again. Callum was sleeping a lot more than usual, as if his body was conserving energy for something else, and the boy’s mind was less active and sharp.

“Are you not chatting with your girlfriend tonight?” Gray asked, half mockingly as he saw Callum drifting off to sleep in the chair with a half eaten oat cookie still in his hand.

Callum shook with a start from the sound of Gray’s voice and he glanced sleepily at the time. “I’ll call her tomorrow instead,” he mumbled, nibbling once more on the snack and reaching for another, before falling back to sleep.

Gray smirked. He hated listening to Callum on a video call with his girlfriend from back home. Callum was exactly the type of ‘nice’ boy to have the same girlfriend from the beginning of high school, and overhearing them going on endlessly about how much they missed each other had made Gray vacate the station on more than one occasion. Now, however, the conversations had started to become a lot more interesting. Callum’s girlfriend had noted with concern how his face was starting to look rather puffy. There was a fullness to his cheeks and a gentle softening of his jawline that she didn’t mind pointing out. Callum had denied this entirely, blaming the camera and the lighting in the station. Then, with a seeming lack of control over himself, he had continued to nibble on multiple snacks well into the night afterwards.

Gray set off to pick up more supplies and he hunted where he could for great stacks of meat that the other national park rangers would never find out about. In doing so, Callum never went without food, despite never ridding himself of a constant hunger. He slipped into a feverish state once more in the afternoon of the full moon and awoke the next morning, feeling like he was hungover, dehydrated and extremely hungry.

It was sometime within that second month when Callum’s pathitically tiny pants stopped fitting. Gray had noticed them pinching him for some days, further emphasising the fat that was spreading across the boy’s waist and into his pert little buttocks. Now, however, Gray saw the splay of the broken top button, inadequately concealed beneath a belt that Callum had clearly taken from Gray’s stash. For the first time in his life, Gray simply laughed at this; pulling himself back from the mild irritation that initially came to him whenever he was around Callum. Furthermore, Callum’s shirts were fitting in the most unflattering way imaginable, clinging to the little round, bloated stomach that had formed beneath his slender chest and making it seem even bigger than it currently was. In under two month’s the boy’s body had undergone a period of rapid, ferocious fattening that had left the pathetic creature in a state of bewilderment and embarrassment.

For the most part, Gray and Callum mostly ignored the changes that had taken place, or at least politely failed to mention them. Callum quietly sourced new pants and shirts to wear and he kept himself covered up most of the time. In his clothes, Callum arguably looked better than usual, with a fuller, more maculine build than he’d had before. But as the fat continued to build, Callum started to look genuinely chubby and even out of shape. As the summer heat kicked in hard, Gray walked around without a shirt on most days; showing off an impressive, muscular build that was now in such contrast with the increasingly bloated form of Callum. It seemed that the guy was particularly susceptible to belly fat, amasssing quite a little paunch in no time at all. It was now obvious that his once flat chest was swelling up with larger nipples and, by the end of July, Gray found it difficult to keep a straight face as he watched them flutter and bounce a little as Callum walked about. The immune response really was an amazing thing. With all this fresh fat on his body, Callum appeared more than capable of fighting the successive full moons; yet he was still eating and gorging and piling on more and more pounds. His immune response, much like when it dealt with many allergies, had kicked into overdrive.

It was after Callum’s fourth full moon that Gray began to pick up on the strange scent that the twenty-two year old was giving off. Whilst the boy’s body was doing a good job of preventing the physical wolf transformation, there was no denying that, in having been bitten by Gray, Callum was now part of Gray’s pack; whether he knew it or not. A bond formed each time this happened, and developed over time. Already, the chubby boy was starting to give off a strange cocktail of pheromones in Gray’s company. He seemed to grow coy in his older colleague’s company, lost his interest in messaging his girlfriend and became surprisingly awkward whenever Gray walked around without a shirt on.

Despite knowing that this was coming, Gray had had no intention of going there with Callum. He’d expected the boy to have blamed his new form on the job and quit long before this even became an issue. But things were moving a lot faster than Gray had anticipated. Gray had witnessed this type of fattening before in those that fought off the wolf curse, but he had never seen it happen so quickly, or so extremely. But now it seemed that the same was true of the pheromones Callum was producing. They were potent, strong, extreme and altogether impossible to ignore.

“Here, I made you some coffee,” Callum declared, handing over a warm mug to Gray, sitting with his binoculars on the porch area, overlooking the forest below.

“Thanks,” Gray mumbled back. Even outside, the flood of pheromones as Callum came out here was almost unbearable. The chubby boy absolutely stank of them and it was hard not to be distracted by it all.

“We’re running low on supplies again,” Callum began explaining.

Gray suppressed a sigh. Whilst incredibly amusing, Callum’s ravenous appetite was becoming quite a drain on his time. “Okay. I’ll see if I can head out later,” he grumbled.

Callum sat down, flooding the space with even more of his scent and Gray began to twitch awkwardly, feeling blood beginning to pump into his groin.

“In fact, I’ll head off now,” Gray declared, suddenly desperate to remove himself from the situation as he felt his erection swelling. He stood, hiding his groin with the binoculars and grabbed the keys to the truck. For the first time ever, as he drove away, he started to wonder whether he should just keep on going and never come back. Otherwise, it’d be hard to know what would happen next.

Gray returned much later, deciding to purchase the most calorific foods he could, in the hope of fattening Callum up even faster and sending him packing; concerned that the lifestyle of a National Park Ranger was not good for his health. He arrived late in the evening to find an exhausted-looking Callum asleep on the couch with the last remaining food items destroyed and decorated around his greedy face. A sliver of fleshy skin was uncovered as the boy’s shirt failed to hide the entirety of his torso and Gray stood, transfixed by what he was seeing; inexplicably aroused by the toxic fumes emanating from the pot-bellied boy on the couch. His erection immediately sprang to life and he tugged at his pants in the hope of hiding it better. He needed to check in with the rest of the crew online and tried to distract himself with menial tasks, despite the blood pumping wildly into his crotch.

Not long afterwards, Callum awoke and began eating once more, making a sizable dent in some of the items Gray had just brought back with him. “Don’t you ever stop eating?” Gray asked loudly, confused by the strange swirling emotions he was feeling and needing some sort of outlet for his frustration. “It’s disgusting! I’ve never seen anything like it! What the hell is your girlfriend going to think when you next get time off?”

“Actually,” Callum began, briefly stunned by Gray’s outburst that he actually stopped eating, “we, sort of, broke up this afternoon.”

Perhaps it was the pheromones making Gray care, but Callum’s words really did make him stop for a moment and wonder what he should say next. He stood, almost moving to approach Callum and offer his sympathies. Words poised themselves on the tip of his tongue. Then he breathed and fought once more to retain his composure; turning away and heading straight to his bed.

With sensitive hearing, Gray had found it harder to sleep ever since Callum had arrived. That night, however, the sounds of nibbling and chewing were drilling into his skull. Compelled by an insane hunger, Callum was up in the middle of the night and making his way through many of the calorie dense things Gray had supplied. On occasion, he heard the boy whimper, as if his tummy was too tight to continue, followed by more biting, chewing and swallowing.

Having lost his patience, Gray ripped himself from his bed and strutted into the shared space, ready to shout at the top of his lungs. “Why are you fucking eating at this time of night?” he roared, throwing his door open and receiving a full blast of pheromones as he did so. The reason for this was simple. Standing in the space, croched over the counter and stuffing his face was an almost naked Callum, dressed in nothing but a pair of overly tight boxers, trying to hold back a swollen rear and mercilessly cutting into meaty, well developed love handles. It was the first time Gray had seen Callum’s naked torso since the fattening had started, and even without the masses of bare skin oozing uninhibited pheromones, it was enough to make him stop in his tracks.

Callum jumped and his quivering hands tried to conceal the masses of wrappers he had made his way through. He swept them quickly into the sink and out of view. Then he glanced back quickly but did not turn around to face Gray, deeply embarrassed and evidently not wanting Gray to see the very obviously rounded belly he had grown; grossly swollen by the midnight feasting. “I’m going to bed now!” he cried out, like a kid caught out, talking to the wall in front of him instead of Gray himself.

But Gray was gone. He’d slept naked ever since he was a teenager and the pulsing erection he grew now came to him faster than any other in his life. It was undoubtedly the scent Callum was giving off, but there was also something so arousing about the soft curvaceousness of Callum’s new form: like Gray was the wolf, and Callum was his own blubbery little pig. Fighting this wasn’t an option anymore. They were both animals after all, driven by their instincts and desires. He marched forwards with purpose, observing the vibrations from his heavy footsteps quivering the soft fleshy fat that swelled around Callum’s sides.

No words were needed now. With Gray’s strong arms, he turned Callum around to face him, immediately spotting the erection that bounced forth from the chubby’s boy groin. Then, holding the chub’s face in both hands, Gray kissed him with more passion than he had ever thought himself capable of. Callum returned it, and within no time at all, both men were stroking each others’ hardness, moaning like they were already ready to explode.

Even amongst all that, Callum reached into the sink and grabbed the leftovers of the energy bar he’d been eating when Gray came in, swallowing quickly before returning to kissing straight afterwards. Gray’s hand explored the soft flesh that had blossomed around Callum’s waist and couldn’t help noticing how thick and juicy his glutes felt as he curiously bounced them. However, after only another minute, Callum paused his kissing once again and looked longing across to the other side of the kitchen area.

“Are you actually still hungry?” Gray asked, noticing that Callum was fixated by the large open box of oat bars. He walked across the room and pulled one out of the box, unwrapped it and seductively pushed it towards Callum’s mouth in order to maintain the erotic vibe.

Suddenly, Gray detected a great plume of pheromones leaching from Callum’s skin. It made Gray’s erection, which was already impossibly hard, immediately stiffen to an even greater extent; like a muscle trained to its absolute limits. Callum’s moan didn’t help either. Gray already knew his gut was packed tight and yet he nibbled from Gray’s hand with a greed that felt so submissive and deeply sexual. The feeling was not unlike the thrill he had each full moon, tracking down his prey. He pushed the food in deeper, alternating between stroking his and Callum’s hardness as he did so. The sense of power and control he felt was sending him over the edge with lust. He knew he could never be with someone like himself. Wolves were aggressive and status-driven. It was a constant battle to be the alpha. But here was Callum: doughy and soft, eating from his hand and gazing at him with pure submissive affection. This was going to work out. After all, who else was better suited to a wolf, than a greedy little pig?

Over the next few days, Callum and Gray tried to talk through the strange bond that was forming between them. Gray had been alone for so long that he found it harder to put what he felt into words. The pack mentality had meant his lust for the chubby boy had very quickly evolved into feelings of love.

Callum, on the other hand, had had no problem in opening up, explaining how drawn he’d become to Gray for quite some time. But he was also struggling. He didn’t understand the extreme hunger he’d had for the last few months, and he felt confused by how rapidly his body had been altering as a result. Gray listened to him with feelings of guilt, knowing the answers to all of the boy’s questions and yet not quite feeling ready to share them. But, with the full moon soon approaching once more, Gray felt a sense of duty to help protect his new lover from its effects; satisfying the glutton’s ever last hungry desire and swelling that increasing layer of insulating fat across his body. For now, it was the only love language he knew.

The fat was increasing its territory once more, spreading itself across Callum’s neck and bloating his chest. The athletic form he had once had was now being masked by it all; overcome by how obviously the new weight sat on his body as pure fat, jiggling and soft. It was depositing itself everywhere, stretching and widening the boy’s glutes and creating love handles like storage tanks of lard. Gray was loving every second of it, adamant that he had at last found his perfect opposite to love and cherish.

As the weeks wore on and Callum returned from a brief late summer break at home, his body looked increasingly awkward to behold. His stomach began to look like a great balloon was inflating inside it, and his soft, swelling chest seemed out of place alongside his still skinny arms. His butt had packed on vast amounts of softness, widening it just a little less than the outpouring of love handles above, yet his long legs and comparatively small thighs looked as if they were struggling to keep up with the pace of expansion.

At some point, it seemed as if Callum had let go. The humid, late summer heat had thoroughly defeated him and he began walking around without a shirt for most of the day, as Gray had been doing since the middle of April. He made less of an effort to hide his overeating and allowed Gray to do more for him out of the station. Given the frequency with which they had sex, he’d become acustomed to having his fatty flesh touched and didn’t seem as shocked by the way his body jiggled as Gray took him from behind. He’d had a falling out with his family during the break and had returned with an increased sense of independence, seeming to rid himself of all of the healthy eating values he had once insisted upon.

By the time the first snow hit the ground, Gray could hardly get over how much Callum had grown out. Now, when the full moon appeared, he didn’t even need to sleep through it, despite acquiring an even more ravenous appetite than usual; beginning roughly three days before. On these days, Callum felt compelled to eat so much that he could barely get himself off the couch; with Gray catering for most of his needs out of a profound sense of guilt and lust.

“Listen, Gray. We’re not so happy with how things are working out with Callum,” explained Gina, the overall manager for the park rangers. “I’m not sure he’s quite suited to being deployed in such a remote station.”

“He’s doing great!” Gray immediately shot back down the phone in his lover’s defense. “He loves it out here!”

“He’s not very productive though, is he?” Gina countered. “I can see by your location that you’re the one out collecting his research data for him.

Gray hated how easily the higher-ups could check up on them both. It was easy to believe that you were completely free out here, yet the subtle reminders that there was a careful eye watching over them was sometimes almost too much to bear. “What are you trying to say?” Gray asked, deciding that he was done beating around the bush.

“We need to make cost cuts and Callum is reaching the end of his probationary period,” Gail stated without a hint of remorse. “We’ve decided that we won’t be renewing his contract.”

Gray’s nostrils flared. “If you fire him, I’m walking,” he declared, feeling pumped and ready for a fight. He never could have imagined himself putting his livelihood on the line like this for anyone else before now. Yet, there it was; his ultimatum delivered to his boss who, unfortunately for him, didn’t seem to believe a single word he said.

Driving back, Gray wondered how long it would be until Callum was told he was being fired. In his mind, he imagined all the different ways that Gail would do it; cutting Callum off from the career he had longed for ever since he was a kid. Perhaps that was why Gray didn’t detect the signs of an intruder until he came right up to the mountain station and saw the truck parked up across the front in the most arrogant of fashions.

His heart racing, but with a determination to remain cool, Gray tried hard to take his time and casually make his way up the stairs. Through the window, he saw the sickening, grinning, tormenting face of Ash, a werewolf from across the border of Gray’s defined territory. It’d been ten years since their fight in wolf form. Gray had lost huge areas of the land he had once roamed upon a full moon and Ash would always show up every couple of years or so, crossing their boundary as only he was permitted to do.

If posible, Ash’s smug face was even more sickening than usual. Clearly invited inside by a swollen Callum, Ash appeared bemused, watching the fat boy trotting around, getting him one of Gray’s beers. He looked across at Gray, knowing exactly what was going on between them. He would have picked up the scent of Gray all over Callum’s blubbery physique.

“Well, well, well, look who’s finally showed up,” Ash smirked as Gray came through the door.

“Callum, go take the truck out to fix the fencing by the cliffs,” Gray ordered, deciding to be deliberately gruff with his lover in a futile attempt to conceal their relationship. In reality, he needed Callum out of there as soon as possible.

“You’re fucking that fatty?” Ash laughed a few minutes later, as soon as Callum was gone. “I know you tried to turn him into a wolf. You know my rule: if they can’t take the curse, we rip out their throats under the light of the full moon.”

Gray growled, letting his animalistic side show through. His stance changed and he was ready for a fight, should Ash initiate one. “I won’t let you do that,” he declared aggressively.

Ash simply smirked and took a large swig from the beer Callum had got for him before he left; Gray’s beer. “Try and stop me,” he smiled. “I dare you!” Then he laughed, knowing that Gray would not risk their decade-long pact. At least, not yet.

Ash had decided to stick around in order to declare his dominance before the full moon on Saturday. He camped out a little lower down the stream and returned each day to chat with Callum whenever Gray had to go off and do errands. The purpose of those visits were purely for the joy of seeing Gray’s face once he returned and saw him sipping yet another beer on his couch; then having to stifle the anger that he felt so that Callum didn’t ask too many questions.

“So what are your plans for Sunday?” Ash asked the chubby Callum, as he stuffed his face in the kitchen. Then that intruding wolf turned and smirked across at Gray, making the man’s anger boil his blood. Ash’s meaning had been clear to him: Callum would be dead as soon as the sun set and the full moon rose in the sky on Saturday night.

Even in his human form, Gray wasn’t strong enough to take Ash on. Considerably older and more powerful, despite his fresh-faced appearance. Last time, Ash had nearly killed him without taking on as much as a scratch himself. Even so, as soon as they transformed on Saturday night, Gray knew he was going to have to try. He couldn’t let Callum be taken away from him. Not now.

“Are you okay?” Callum suddenly asked Ash, looking across with concern.

Gray stood to attention, wondering what game the wolf was playing now, as the pot bellied Callum took a step closer, attempting to steady Ash on his feet. “I’m fine!” Ash growled violently, letting his true self slip, just for a moment in front of Callum.

“You looked like you were about to faint,” Callum stated, studying Ash’s appearance even more and noticing the sweat on his forehead. They had all done the first aid training. They all knew the signs.

“No I didn’t!” Ash rumbled back, although with slightly more composure now. He glanced across at Gray for a split second, hoping that the other wolf had not seen his momentary weakness. Wolves didn’t get sick. Not ever. “I’ve got things to do,” he complained, storming off in what appeared to be a foul mood.

Ash did not arrive to torment them the next day and Gray’s keen ears had heard very little movement from him further down the stream. Innocent Callum had wanted to go and check on him, without even appreciating the danger he was in. By the Friday, even Gray’s curiosity had gotten the better of him, sneaking over to find the wolf’s camp completely silent. With a pounding heart, he gently brushed away some of the snow from the night before and unzipped the tent to get a look inside. He needn’t have worried, Ash was indeed inside, but he was fast asleep, seemingly trapped within a great fever that made his face glisten with sweat. Even then, Gray allowed himself to imagine the possibilities of what this could mean, but he did not dare to believe it to be true.

As he transformed the following evening, Gray stood guard over Ash’s camp, waiting. The moon was strong, flooding into the small, cold tent as the muscular man lay asleep within. For the first time in nearly fifty years, Ash’s body had remained in its human form under the full moon.

“What’s got you looking so pleased with yourself?” Callum asked as he loaded his plate with several rounds of fresh buttery toast that Sunday morning.

“Oh, you know…” Gray smirked, throwing himself down on the couch. “I’m just sitting here, admiring my beautiful boy as he gets ready for his day,” Gray sang in a tone that would have been completely alien to him before he met Callum.

“Well, I’m glad one of us is happy,” Callum sighed in reply. “I had an email whilst you were out last night, explaining that my contract will not be renewed next Spring.”

“Good,” Gray smiled back, seeing that his response had caught Callum a little off-guard. He stood. “We need a change, you and me. It’s the perfect opportunity for us to try something new.” He embraced the fat boy side on, sliding a hand under his bulging stomach and wrapping his big arm around his shoulders as the boy continued to eat from his plate. “You deserve a better life than I can give you out here. You deserve the best.” He kissed Callum’s buttery lips. “Imagine it. Real restaurants. Real fast food joints, and proper beers!”

“I thought you never wanted to leave this place?” Callum asked inquisitively.

“Well, things change,” Gray smiled. He sat again and laughed, imagining Ash’s reaction upon waking up and realising that whatever cocktail of pheremones and antibodies coursed through Callum’s body, his time spent alone with Callum that week had allowed his own body to acquire the same resistance to the wolf curse. Unlike Gray, his time as a wolf was now over. In a single night, Gray’s territory had more than doubled simply because Callum was part of his pack, leaving his body unchanged by the influence he clealy had upon others. He could survey the entirity of these many snow-covered mountains, the ravines and forests, seeing no end to his lands. And he could do that again, and again; werewolf after werewolf, leaving behind an ever fattening trail of fresh immunity. A world without end or borders.

“You’d really do that for me?” Callum smiled, touched and smitten with love as he stood, looking down on his lover and feeding himself with glistening, butter-drenched toast.

Gray smiled back, rubbing his doughy lover’s glutes with glee from his position on the couch. They felt larger than ever that morning. How perfect. How big and fat and round he could make Callum now. His body was the perfect lardy production house for all of those antibodies that would grant Gray everything he had ever wanted.

“For you, anything," Gray grinned, realising that his fat little piggy had just become the best meal ticket a wolf could ever imagine.

#gainer fiction #gainer stories #gay feedee #gainerstory

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strawberryshortcake1495 · 5 months ago

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My version of the Cousin Stans AU ⚡️

(Original AU is by @leeseechkeens)

So in this AU, Stan, Ford, and Caryn are all kicked out. The boys get into a big fight and Caryn has to break it up. She scolds them and tells them if they want to survive in the streets, they have to work together. So they all get in the El Diablo and drive off, with Ford sharing conflicted looks with Stan.

In 1972, Dipper and Mabel learn that their parents are having a divorce and in a desperate attempt to not be separated, they run away together. They find the nearest bus stop and get on the first bus that comes, hoping to get away before their parents realize they’re gone. The bus takes them to Oregon and the twins just walk around searching for food through trash cans before they come across the Mystery Motel. They find out their Aunt Caryn owns the place, and she brags that it used to be an old and ugly motel before she made it more beautiful. The twins explain their situation and Stan suggests taking them until their wings. Caryn agrees, and thus, the adventure begins.

Dipper and Mabel meet a lot of new friends on their stay at the Mystery Motel, including Soos Ramirez, the janitor who apparently grew up at the motel before Caryn took over and is eventually promoted to co-manager because he’s a very good boy. There’s also Wendy Corduroy, the nice lumberjack girl who’s staying at the motel with her family because they’re semi-homeless. The twins also meet Gideon Gleeful, the flamboyant son of the man who helps fund the motel. Ford meets Fiddleford McGucket, who’s been kicked out of West Coast Tech for not meeting their expectations. As their stay at the Mystery Motel goes on, Dipper and Mabel realize there’s something weird going on and it all leads back to Silas Birchtree, the original owner of the motel who mysteriously disappeared a week after Caryn and the boys arrived 5 years ago.

(art is by @sailorleo)

#gravity falls #dipper pines #mabel pines #stan pines #ford pines #youngkles au #stan twins #mystery motel au #yes the title is based off hazbin hotel #shut upppp #also this au was based off the florida project #i love that movie #caryn pines

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burnsoregonphotoblog · 2 years ago

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Silver Spur Motel at the North Entrance to Burns, Oregon Last frontier of the Old West. Ultra-modern - Burns' Newest - T-V thru out.

Western Hospitality -- Unexcelled Service. Heart of Hunting Section

Chester Litho, Inc., Chester New York C-19358

Color Photo by Allan Holden

#oregon #eastern oregon #harneycounty #the great pnw #the old west #oregonoutback #pnw #oregon outback #burns oregon #harney county #vintage postcard #vintage cars #the pacific northwest #pacific northwest #vintage hotel #motel

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artificial-transmutations · 1 year ago

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The road trip

College was finally over! Randy and Danny, who had spent the last four years living in the same dorm room, were celebrating their graduation with a dream they had nurtured for the past few months: A road trip across the country! They would travel together, spend the time driving and the nights in motels, and finally visit some famous places along the way.

Both of them had the money for it and the time to spare. Danny, of course, who was the more reliable of the duo, was the one who had planned out the whole trip in advance. He had the maps, the motels and the sights all written down, and now they were driving through the countryside to the west.

All went according to plan and the two friends were already a few days on the road, when the accident happened. Randy, who didn't get much sleep the night before was driving while Danny was taking a nap in the seat next to him. The monotonous sight of the country road was not helping much, and Danny found it more and more difficult to stay awake. In hindsight, the sensible choice of action would have been to park the car and take a nap as well. But Randy wasn't the type for sensible choices. He just kept driving and driving until...

*BANG!*

Randy's car hit something, a rock, a stone, a tree. Danny woke up with a jolt and looked around. Everything had happened so fast. The front window was broken, and the airbag had exploded.

Danny couldn't see because of the airbag and tried to open the door. Luckily, it wasn't jammed, and he could work himself out of the car just in time to see Randy crawl out on the driver's side as well.

"Randy! Are you hurt? What happened?"

"No, I'm okay, but the car... "

Danny, who had managed to stand up by now, took a look at the front of the car. They had collided with a large rock next to the road. Even without any mechanical expertise, Danny recognized that the car was wrecked, damaged beyond repair. Next to one of the car's wheels, he spotted something on the ground. When he picked it up, however, it was just some old coin that he quickly pocketed.

"Fuck." was all Danny remarked. It was unlike him to swear, but the situation called for it.

Randy was still looking at the wreck of his car in disbelief. A thousand thoughts spun around in his head, ranging from "my dad's gonna kill me" to "I should really have been more careful". He finally decided on:

"How are we going to get back to civilization?"

"I'm not sure, but we'll figure something out. We should really get the rest of our luggage and call for help."

The two former students did as suggested and collected their luggage from the car. Luckily, everything that had been in the trunk was more or less intact. Calling for help, however, was a bigger problem than anticipated.

"No reception." Randy stated and Danny nodded, adding only another "Fuck.".

"Perhaps, there's some sort of service station nearby. We should probably walk in the direction we were driving." Danny said after a short consideration.

Neither of them knew how far it was going to be - but surely, at some point, they would be able to use their phones.

After walking for about twenty minutes in the blazing heat, Danny suddenly stopped.

"What's the matter?", Randy asked.

"It's fucking hot, that's what it is", Danny answered. His voice sounded scruff, but that was probably just because of the lack of water. After a short bit of hesitation, he pulled his white t-shirt over his head and used it to wipe away his sweat before dropping it to the ground.

"Better." he mumbled, but it didn't take long for the sweat to return.

Randy, who had also stopped when Danny did, looked at him and his surprisingly well defined torso, glistening in the sun. He had known Danny for a long time, and had seen him shirtless more than once, but his friends exposed chest was way more impressive than he remembered.

"Aren't you hot?"

Randy was interrupted in his thoughts by the question.

"No, actually... I'm not sweating one bit." he answered truthfully. That earned him a strange look from Danny, but no further comment.

Danny was hot, really hot. His mind was clouded, and it was difficult for him to think straight. After another short while, he cursed again.

"Fuck this shit! We're not getting anywhere like that."

Absentmindedly, he scratched his chest, which showed a coating of fine dark hairs now. Randy was pretty sure they weren't there some moments ago. What was going on?! Randy really didn't want to stare, but there were some not-so-subtle changed in his friend. The chest, the hair, the sudden change in behavior... and was that a tattoo on his shoulder? Randy was very, very certain that Danny didn't have any tattoos and yet, here was one. It looked like a crest or something, perhaps a military motive? That was impossible, of course, Danny was a gentle pacifist.

It didn't look bad on him, though. Randy found his eyes glued to his friends body, taking everything in, the muscles, the tattoo, the hair, the... bulge.

"Are you enjoying the view?" the question was snarky, almost aggressive, and definitely not what Randy was used to.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to-" Randy began, but Danny had already closed the distance between them and closed his hand (Randy could swear it was bigger and rougher than before) around Randy's crotch. Only now that it had been touched, Randy realized that he had grown hard.

"Don't act innocent, you little fag", Danny growled. "You're enjoying the view."

"Yes." Randy breathed. The whole situation was weird, and definitely not good, but his friend's hand on his cock felt so incredibly good. Of course, Randy wasn't gay... was he?

When he looked up, he saw Danny grinning a superior grin, despite his harsh words. He had grown significantly, Randy noticed. Not taller, but broader, with big, strong muscles. More tattoos had appeared on his other arm as well, and his chin was covered in bristly stubble now.

Most importantly, though, Danny, too was obviously hard in his pants. The bulge was big, way bigger than what Randy would have expected, even though he had never seen Danny's member hard before. The sight was mouth-watering.

Danny laughed and pressed his groin into Randy's, letting him feel the hardness.

"Yeah, I know what you want."

He opened his pants with his free hand and dropped them, revealing a huge member.

"Do you like what you see?"

Randy couldn't do much else than nod. The sight was just mesmerizing. He was still vaguely aware that they were open in public, on a road, but he couldn't help but stare at his friend's huge cock.

"Come on, give it a kiss."

Randy did as he was told and started to kneel down in front of his friend, but he was interrupted again by Danny's big hand that stopped him.

"But first...", Danny's voice sounded lower, more manly now, as he reached into Randy's pants and underpants and closed his hand around Randy's very stiff dick before he continued:

"I'll take this."

With that, he suddenly *yanked* at Randy's cock and balls, who was expecting the pain of a lifetime. Surprisingly enough, it didn't feel too bad. There was an odd pulling sensation for a moment, but it passed quickly. Even as Danny had retracted his arm, Randy could still feel his firm hand gripping his cock and balls - and he could *see* them, too: Danny was still holding them in his hand, detached from Randy's body.

"Ah, a perfect toy. This should keep you busy while I make use of your mouth."

The realization of what had happened was overwhelming, but it didn't stop Randy from feeling horny. It didn't help that Danny was idly playing with his detached cock, making him moan.

"Didn't you hear me? On. Your. Knees."

Randy was surprised, and even scared a little. How could Danny speak with such authority, like he was a superior man? Like he was... Randy's master.

As he finally went down on his knees, he looked up and was confronted with a different kind of surprise: Danny had been wearing blue jeans before, but now he was greeted by old and worn, and, most importantly, smelly, camo pants, held by a leather belt with a big metal buckle. The pants were open and his giant dick, still hard, hung out between the legs, resting on the heavy balls.

"Suck it." Danny said.

Randy did as he was told, putting his lips around the giant cock and started to suck. It felt more than weird, sucking another man's cock while having his own member detached and being slowly rubbed by the manly hands of his frie...

No, Danny was clearly superior to him now, much too superior to be a peer of his. He was his master, his owner perhaps. He was the one who held his cock in his hand, quite literally. The thought was thrilling for Randy, and he moaned out of pure pleasure.

Danny seemed to enjoy the blowjob as well, and, surprisingly, his cock grew even larger. With a low growl, Danny came in Randy's mouth. It was an incredible amount of cum, filling his mouth and making him gag.

"Good." Danny smirked and zipped up his pants. "And now you're gonna replace the car you crashed."

With these words, Randy found himself beginning to change. He fell to the ground and watched as both his hands and feet became larger, black and rubbery. There was no doubt: They were turning into... tires!

His whole body exploded in size, shredding his clothing as if they were made of paper. His skin turned hard and metallic and took on a bright yellow color. His body hollowed out and glass formed on the front, the sides and the back, as Randy, the human quickly became Randy, the car. And not just any car. He was becoming a brand new, modern, yellow jeep. His intestines turned into one of the most powerful engines you could own, while his mind underwent another transformation.

Randy's thoughts became clearer, simpler, more mechanical, as his mind was being absorbed into the on-board computer, effectively becoming nothing more than a subservient AI. With all his sensors, Randy noticed of course, as the rugged redneck, Dan the man, entered his interior and took a deep breath of Randy's new car smell.

"Alright, let's get going." Danny mumbled to no one in particular and inserted the key, which had been Randy's cock before, into the keyhole that had been Randy's mouth.

Immediately, Randy roared to life, and at the touch of his owner accelerated down the long country road.

#male transformation #muscle transformation #dumbing down #straight to gay #inanimate transformation

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