#Barter Fic

[myckicade]

Title: Barter

Series: The Last of Us

Pairing: Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: It's been a number of years since you first made your home in Jackson. Your house is a cozy little two-story, with beautiful flowers, an herb garden, and a small flock of ducks roaming the yard. The old barn-turned-garage beside the house serves as your veterinary clinic. You do your part around the settlement, helping, providing, and carving out a little bit of peace in a world determined to provide none.

When Ellie stops by your place, visibly distressed that her horse has gone off her food, you don't hesitate to get out to the stables. There, you encounter Joel, who offers to help with maintenance to your clinic, in exchange for your help with his daughter's horse. You aren't terribly concerned with the repayment, not when there is an ailing creature to tend to, but you strike the deal to ease Joel's mind.

As a woman who has been repaid in a variety of forms - vegetables, eggs, clothing - a trade of services really isn't all that bad. Joel is a nice enough guy, helpful and respectful, and he does good work. Over time, one trade leads to another, and another, leaving you in each other's company more often than you'd originally bargained for. There's nothing between you, beyond a growing friendship. He's a handsome man, and a fine catch, but more hasn't really crossed your mind. But small towns talk, even the good ones, and talk could easily change everything.

A/N: The amount of research I did on this, just to make it half-believable, is truly startling. Heh. I promise, no one will be growing mango fruit in the middle of a Wyoming winter. Some details will be from personal experience.

Also, please note that this will be far more plot-heavy than smut-filled. I wrote romance novels for years, and… I need plot. Heh.

Finally, please remember that this is the only chapter that will appear in the main series tag. Please follow #TloUBarterFic or #TLoU Barter Fic for future chapters.

Tag List: @stevetonycupcakes

Chapter One: Bramble of Ida

March 24th, 2024

A bitter morning wind whips down the street as you all but stagger back toward your house. There is very little noise happening around you, other than the creaking of tree branches, and the soft crunches of snow beneath your boots. The rest of the town is still asleep, save for those on patrol, and the group on rotation to feed and tend the livestock. How you envy anyone still with head pressed to pillow.

Grief, what a night. Tugging off one glove, you rub at the back of your aching neck with your bare fingers. It does little to relieve tension, but you lie to yourself, all the same. For a moment. All too soon, the frigid air invades up the sleeve of your jacket, sinking into your newly-exposed skin until you are left shivering. With a quiet curse, you put your hand back in your glove, and continue toward home. Fucking winter. It’s a beautiful season to watch, but a real bitch to have to contend with, in person. At the very least, it’s almost over. A few more weeks, and signs of spring will begin to turn up.

Just… a few more weeks.

The sun is just beginning to peek through the trees as you pass the Monroe house. It’s a lovely little place, two-story, painted a soft blue. There’s a basketball hoop mounted above the garage door, patio furniture under a tarp on the front lawn, and… You pause, and chuckle. The chickens from the Patterson place, next door, have once again invaded Wendy Monroe’s snow-covered garden space. The gate has swung open, the latch likely giving out with the cold, and the chickens look to be enjoying a few minutes of pre-discovery peace in pecking through the snow at whatever remains of last year’s plants. Wendy’s a good sport, and doesn’t usually mind the squawk-happy little visitors, but it’s far too cold for them to be out of their coop, unsupervised.

With a heavy sigh, you consider that thought a second time, and a third. The temperatures have dipped over the last few hours. Judging from the thermometer you’d seen in the hog pen, there had been a loss of nearly eighteen degrees during your six-hour visit. It certainly doesn’t feel any warmer now, and in another hour those birds will be in serious trouble. With that in mind, you make a sharp pivot to the right, and trespass onto the Monroe property.

“All right, ladies,” you call, as quietly as will get their attention. No reason to risk waking the occupants of either household. If someone of your profession can’t handle something this simple, they ought to run you out of town. “Time to get your fluffy little butts back home!” The chickens pay you little to no mind at all, until you approach the open garden gate. Five sets of startled eyes are suddenly staring you down, leaving you in a smirk. Adorable creatures, chickens. Sassy, snippy, and full of surprises. You really should raise some of your own.

Scratch that, so to speak. You hardly need to invite the chance of being outsmarted by a flock of birds. What was that thought, again, about being run out of town?

You fight back a chuckle, and change tactics. “Come on,” you urge, waving your hands in the air, just enough to get the chickens moving. Sure enough, the Queen Bee of the flock lets out an irritated sound and flutters her way back out of the gate. It takes a moment before the rest of the girls follow behind her. Not one of them is pointing in the direction of home, but they’ve left you with enough room to lock the gate.

Well, scratch that. You manage to get it closed, but that lock is definitely frozen.

The Patterson’s coop, an old garden shed that has long since been converted and insulated, is only a few yards away. Getting them there, though, will be a task of near-Herculean proportions… For one who doesn’t know where the Pattersons keep the chicken feed. Lucky for you, you’ve been in to check on the ladies more than once, and have firsthand knowledge of their setup. Blessedly, the snow isn’t terribly deep, and you make it over to the coop and back within seconds. Holding up your hands, you shake the cupful of feed you snagged. Once again, five sets of very interested eyes are turned toward you.

“That’s more like it,” you murmur, grinning. “Now, come on.” You take a couple of slow steps backward and shake the cup again. It takes only a few seconds for the chickens to come rushing toward you. You pick up your pace, shaking the food every few steps, so as not to lose their attention. As you move closer, a chorus of clucks rises from inside the coop. Apparently, you’ve caused quite a stir. The clucks come closer, louder and louder, and you glance over your shoulder to see that the remaining three chickens in the flock have wandered out to meet you.

Evidently, the garden lock isn’t the only fastening on the fritz.

Rounding to the front of the coop, careful not to step on any of the new partygoers, your assumption is proven correct. The swing door to the coop is wide open, the straw inside blown all about, some spilling out on the ramp. The wind may have rattled the door open, loose as the lock looks from where you stand. You make a mental note to stop by and see Alan, this afternoon, to advise him to put something a little stronger on there.

For now, you lure the chickens back into the coop, spreading a little bit of feed across the inside edges of the enclosure. No use in throwing it in, just to make a mess for the Pattersons to have to worry about. The girls skitter their way inside, and, as soon as the last feathered behind is out of the way, you swing the door closed, removing your gloves to properly fasten the latch. Reaching into your pocket, you retrieve a leftover bit of jute twine, which you slip into the latch hole, loop around the lock fastening, and tie off into a sturdy, but easily removed knot. Once you are satisfied that the knot is in place, you give the door handle a little tug. There. That isn’t going anywhere.

“Night, girls,” you call, softly, as you replace the food cup into the appropriate bin. Pulling your gloves back on, you start back for the road, and back toward home. Once you’ve had some sleep, you’ll make sure to venture back out, and stop in to let both homeowners know it was you that came onto their respective properties. If you had any paper with you, you’d leave notes to explain, but calling back in a few hours will have to do.

Your house was already in your view before you noticed the chickens, just half a dozen places down the road. You’ve been looking forward to your bed since you last left it, the morning before. You need a shower first, and something to eat, both of which run you the risk of just falling asleep, standing up. Oh, well. A simple enough cost, exhaustion, for so rich a reward as you’d seen delivered, overnight. Miracles, even in this world, still manage to exist, every here and there.

Unfortunately, so do curses, another of which you swallow back as you spot someone standing on your front porch. Blowing out a puff of air, you make your way up the driveway, mentally preparing yourself for what you are about to hear. Anyone calling at such an ungodly hour as this surely has an emergency that needs seeing to. Funny, that’s the same thing you told yourself just ahead of midnight, the night before, as you’d flicked on one light after another, on your way to open the front door.

Yeah. So much for sleep.

The individual at your door – a man, from the looks of things – has his back to you as he raises his fist to knock. He’s certainly a solid looking gentleman, in jeans, a work jacket, and what looks to be a black hat. Quite frankly, it could be anybody, but most folks in town would be beating down your door and calling out your name to get your attention. You’re not used to this calm, polite knocking. Well, not before sunrise.

“Hey, there,” you call, as you approach the three steps at the side of your porch. Your visitor doesn’t turn around, instead knocking a second time. Odd. Shaking it off, you try again, a little bit louder. “Can I help you?” The man finally turns your way, clearly a bit off guard. It makes you feel bad to have startled him, enough that you find enough energy to put on a welcoming smile. “Sorry. I’m sure you weren’t expecting to be snuck up on.”

“Are you (y/n)?” he asks, with absolutely no preamble. You raise an eyebrow in response, smile failing you, considerably. The man’s features are a bit difficult to make out in the shadows, leaving you no clues as to the nature of his visit. Leave it to you to forget to turn on the porch light when you’d left the house.

“I am,” you reply, taking each step up at a slow, measured pace. He steps to the side to face you, now bringing his face into the light. Pleasant surprise, it’s a handsome one. A little rough, a little grey, but handsome, and distantly – suspiciously – familiar. Still, there’s no need to assume, right? “How can I help you, Mister…?”

The man makes a peculiar face, then rolls his eyes. “Sh-I’m sorry. My name is Joel.” He offers you a gloved hand. “Joel Miller.”

Ah. So, your second assumption of the morning has been proven correct. Your smile recovers, a bit, as you come close enough to return the handshake. Solid grip on him, you note, even if short-lived. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Miller.” He nods once, politely, but doesn’t say anything in response. “What can I do for you?”

He wrings his hands together for a second, and glances to the side. “Ah, listen, I’m sorry to be stopping in so early,” he begins, voice as low and hushed as you figure he can make it. With a rich tone like that, it’s almost amusing. “Maria said you might be able to help me out. I was gonna’ wait ‘til later, but…” He trails off, somewhere between guilty and uncomfortable.

Meanwhile, your default setting of concerned is deepening. “One of your horses sick?” you ask, excusing yourself as you step around your visitor to open the front door. The sooner you can get to your stores, the sooner another living being might find some relief. Two, if you count the trouble Mr. Miller seems to be feeling.

“No,” he shoots back, almost instantly. You glance over your shoulder in surprise, to find Mr. Miller rubbing his neck in a self-conscious manner. It’s the perfect fit for the flustered look on his face. “No, uh… Sorry. No, it ain’t the horses. It’s, uh… My…” He sighs in frustration. “It’s Ellie. Have you met her?”

“Haven’t had the pleasure, yet.” The name certainly registers though, thanks to Tommy chatting away about his brother and niece, whenever the two of you cross paths. The man is terribly sweet and sentimental when the mood strikes. “What can I do for Ellie, then?” It might be the rising light playing tricks, but you could almost swear the man before you now is going a bit pink. Which, with men, can only mean one thing. Amused as you suddenly are, you keep a straight face. “Mr. Miller?”

“She…” He pauses, scratching a gloved index finger along his cheek. “You see, it’s her, uh… I mean, she’s got her… Erm…”

That tears it. You have to turn back toward the door, hiding both a grin and a silent cackle in your scarf. It’s so pitifully adorable, you almost don’t make it. “Follow me,” you instruct, trying like all hell to keep your voice good and steady as you open the front door and click on a light. You gesture for Mr. Miller to step inside your kitchen, which he does, removing his hat and closing the door behind himself. You peel off your gloves, then your jacket and hat, depositing all four items onto your countertop. “How much pain is she in?” you ask, opening the last cupboard before the window. From the corner of your eye, you see Mr. Miller fidgeting with his hat.

“Heat didn’t help, this time,” he explains, worry creeping into every syllable. Poor bastard. Not easy being the single father of a teenage girl. Mr. Miller is hardly the first dad to see you for this reason, and he likely will not be the last. “She’s a tough girl. Usually powers right through, but this time…” He fiddles with his hat again, and you look back to the cabinet, grabbing the first item you need as he continues to talk. “She’s in a bad way.”

You nod along as you get out everything you need. Once you have an assortment of tins in front of you, you begin taking pieces from the half-filled tins and mixing them into an empty one. Poor kid. Being a woman yourself, you get it. Especially now, when Advil and Tylenol are worth their weight in platinum. Which, to be fair, is completely useless nowadays, but that’s really beside the point.

A few moments pass in silence, save for the quiet clatter of your ingredients. “I’d say I was sorry to have woken you,” Mr. Miller says, eyes wandering over your kitchen, surely just for something to do. If you were any less focused on your task, you might feel a bit embarrassed at the cluttered state of your countertops. “But all the same, even though you were already up.”

Oh. You can’t help but let out a pitiful little laugh at that. “Truth be told, I haven’t been to bed, yet.”

“You haven’t?” he asks, teetering on startled. “You know what time it is, right?” There’s a bit of a smile playing on the man’s face, and you have to admit, he’s wearing it well.

“I’m aware,” you admit, placing the lid on the three-quarters full tin and giving it a gentle shake. You do your best not to tune in on the sound your actions are producing. The light tapping and swirling could easily lull you to sleep. “Had to help deliver some piglets.”

That perks Mr. Miller’s attention. “Sally or Marla?” he asks.

You give a little scoff. “Both, if you can believe it.” You move around the curve of the counter, still shaking away at the tin. “Marla went first. While I was helping her, Sally decided to catch the spirit, and had hers, too.”

That seems to amuse him for a second, before gravity settles in. “Everybody good?”

“Mostly.” You sigh. “Marla dropped one, then she dropped. The second one wouldn’t come out. But the first one was a distance away from her. Don’t know how long the baby was alone in the cold, but Amy Sid took the little guy in for the night. He’ll be fine,” you’re quick to reassure, at the distressed look on Mr. Miller’s face. It’s a feeling you understand, all too well. “I just want him somewhere warm, where he can be fed and watched. Sally’s babies are fine. She didn’t have as many, but she breezed right through it.”

Shit. You realize, all at once, that you’ve been rambling at a complete stranger like he’s your best buddy. Granted, he likely knows all the same things you do in this settlement, especially where the animals are concerned, but still. Fighting the embarrassed flush that you just know is coming, you stop shaking the tin in your hand and hold it out toward your guest.

“Good to hear,” Mr. Miller replies, accepting the tin and giving it a suspicious look. “Dare I ask?”

“Oh!” you breathe, dialing back in. “Right. So, brew Ellie a cup of tea every few hours, so long as the cramps keep coming back. Just a small scoop of the stuff.” In your embarrassment, you’re speaking a mile a minute. Perhaps you ought to write it all down for him, just in case? “Depending upon the severity of her cramps, it might not take them away entirely, but it should ease them.” He carefully removes the lid and looks inside, apparently surprised at what he sees. “That should last her a while. But if it doesn’t help, come back and see me. It would be easier if she was here, right now, to get specifics, but…” You rock your head from side to side. “I understand.”

Mr. Miller leans in and gives the contents a sniff, recoiling, a bit, at the scent. “The hell is it?”

“Raspberry leaf, mostly,” you explain, again trying not to let your amusement show. “Chamomile, a bit of cinnamon. A couple of other things.” He glances up at you, blinking. “It won’t hurt her. I promise.”

Mr. Miller nods, after what you can only imagine is a moment of indecision. Trust her, don’t trust her? He closes the container, tucking it away in his pocket. “What do I owe you?” he asks, shifting on his feet. It’s a fine question, and one that you are more than used to hearing, but you shake your head, all the same. He frowns. “I’m serious.”

“I’m sure you are,” you reply. And, you really are. But… “But I’m too tired to come up with anything, and you’ve got a little girl that needs that stuff, as soon as you can get it to her.” You smile. “Worry about it another time.”

Mr. Miller looks ready to argue for half a second. “Okay,” he murmurs instead, replacing his hat atop his head. “Thank you for your help, (y/n).” He turns and opens the door.

You follow him over, one hand resting on the door as you see him out. “You’re welcome, Mr. Miller.”

He pauses and glances back with a faint smile. “Joel.”

“You’re welcome, Joel,” you correct, as he steps off the porch. “I hope Ellie feels better, soon.” He nods and continues on his way at a steady pace. Once the man is down the driveway and onto the street, you close the door. A quiet man, Joel Miller. Polite. Easy on the eyes. Probably be even easier, if you’d been able to keep them open while he was here. Ah, well. You can worry about that more in the morning.

Okay. At this rate, the afternoon.

Placing the covers back on the tins on your countertop, you stuff them back into the cupboard, and close the door. Forget food. Forget a shower. Hell, you don’t even have the energy to stop for a bathroom break. It will keep until… Until it can’t. With that thought in mind, you turn out the lights and drop onto the couch. Fuck it. You have to be up in a few hours, anyhow.

[carabinerdrawing]

Amadeo & Daniel

"he filled my bath with rose petals and goat's milk and washed my mortal body"

[harmonictechnicality]

So for no particular reason other than terminal brainrot, I spent my morning researching if Indiana had any notable theme parks…

Now mostly, they have water parks. Which, okay fine. That’s good to know too. But also, there used to be a theme park in the mid 80s to late 90s that had an entire Renaissance Fair Village as one of its attractions. The whole article and wiki page on this place is super interesting (and tragic), so I highly recommend reading it if you’re as into defunct theme parks as I am.

But I just know that our fantasy-loving metalhead was there opening day in 1983 to fuck up a turkey leg and watch some jousting tournaments. He probably went every weekend and was thrilled to learn the construction plans were to build bigger attractions. Thrill rides. Roller coasters.

That is, until, he found out who the park owner was: the most popular guy at his high school’s father. And as much as Eddie hates the rich and despises Steve Harrington’s undeniable charm…

… He’ll do just about anything for a discount.

[rants-about-opm]

Hello OPM Artists!

I'm wanting to do a barter commission!

If you will draw something for me, I will write a fic for you! It doesn't have to be OPM related, it can be anything you would like.

Reply to this post/message me if you are interested, and I will dm you to discuss what I'm looking for and what you would like in return!

[intothegimmickverseofficial]

give me your name

@slender-fae

Aahh no, I've read enough Fairy AU fanfics to know EXACTLY where this is going. I give my name, you hold power over me.

As a substitution, I'm willing to give you this vegetable I've got.

-Mod 3

[tennessoui]

With the throat fic, was Palpatine's plan to have Anakin experimented on so he becomes even more dark and dangerous?

lol the throat fic i love that

anyway i kept it sort of vague but i imagine dooku was like hey. hey sidious. can i experiment on your other apprentice. cause you know i hate him and also maybe it would solve The Padawan Problem

(sidious' biggest headache on any given day is the fact that four years ago his would-be apprentice got the stupidest fucking lightest motherfucking jedi padawan in the whole galaxy who is single handedly tethering sidious' apprentice to the light and skywalker will never ever ever let him go willingly and killing him is going to be complicated and messy if he doesn't do it right because skywalker can never know he orchestrated the death of kenobi but he also can't think the separatists did it and he can't think the sith did it and it would be great if he could convince him the jedi did it but that's almost impossible, so!)

and sidious is like ? oh?

and dooku is like yes. we kidnap skywalker and do some experiments on him, maybe light torture, make him really dark, make him really dangerous

and sidious is like oh???

and dooku is like right yeah and then after just a lot of torture and experimentation cause remember, i don't like skywalker,,,,

and sidious is like right right continue

and dooku is like we bring in his padawan and he kills him himself! :D Padawan Problem solved.

and sidious is like i have no other ideas at this point on how to solve a problem like kenobi, so. fine. take skywalker. have fun with it.

[haveyoureadthisfanfic]

Summary: People keep coming up to Kaveh to congratulate him. Kaveh doesn’t really know why, and he’s a little too scared to ask at this point, so he heads back home, content if not a little bemused. He is, unfortunately, reminded of it the very next day, when the door slams open and Al-Haitham stalks in. “Mind telling me why everyone was congratulating me today?” he demands. “About your pregnancy?" Or: Al-Haitham is, without a doubt, the most annoying person Kaveh knows. Maybe the world’s second-most annoying person can help Kaveh figure him out.

Author: Seungshi03

Note from submitter: Despite the summary I promise there's no preg, just some misunderstandings. Scaramouche adopted by Haikaveh fic is my favorite thing ever

[xejune]

hey, did you know? if you want me to draw something, you can pay me to do so!

my commissions are currently open (and likely will be so year-round!) and you can find the price sheet for them here -> commissions

[bartletadmin]

not to pressure the crew or anything but uhm joshdonna edit to bed chem by sabrina when...?

[skyward-floored]

Worry

Or whatever word really I just want another twilight turns snippet

Did he know?

The thought kept returning to Midna's mind, over and over as she and Link worked their way through the Twilight Realm, a hand unconsciously resting tight around her middle. He glanced behind him and gave her a tired but determined smile at one point, and Midna barely managed to return it.

Did he truly not have any clue?

[myckicade]

Thank you thank you! I don't have anything specific just something in Jackson? Female reader and a slow burn if you can!

Good morning!

I mulled this over for a good deal of the night. Then, I set to writing. It will be a day or so before I can post the first installment (Tumblr only), but it's... Well. It's already a pretty healthy 4,500+ words. I would like to thank you, in a very sincere fashion, for sparking inspiration that saw me through a night of insomnia.

That said, if anyone would like to be added to the taglist, please comment here. I will be happy to add you when it is posted.

----------

Title: Barter

Summary: It's been a number of years since you first made your home in Jackson. Your house is a cozy little two-story, with beautiful flowers, an herb garden, and a small flock of ducks roaming the yard. The old barn-turned-garage beside the house serves as your veterinary clinic. You do your part around the settlement, helping, providing, and carving out a little bit of peace in a world determined to provide none.

When Ellie stops by your place, visibly distressed that her horse has gone off her food, you don't hesitate to get out to the stables. There, you encounter Joel, who offers to help with maintenance to your clinic, in exchange for your help with his daughter's horse. You aren't terribly concerned with the repayment, not when there is an ailing creature to tend to, but you strike the deal to ease Joel's mind.

As a woman who has been repaid in a variety of forms - vegetables, eggs, clothing - a trade of services really isn't all that bad. Joel is a nice enough guy, helpful and respectful, and he does good work. Over time, one trade leads to another, and another, leaving you in each other's company more often than you'd originally bargained for. There's nothing between you, beyond a growing friendship. He's a handsome man, and a fine catch, but more hasn't really crossed your mind. But small towns talk, even the good ones, and talk could easily change everything.

Coming Soon.

[ntzsche9]

hello! random question, feel free to ignore. tell me a random fact that may or may not be plot relevant about one of your ocs but you love about them.

Hi & thanks! I put way too much thought into this and didn't come up with anything cool lol

It's not relevant to plot at all, but something I don't think I've ever outright convey: in my fallout fic, my boy Luvell has Grade-A resting bitch face. As he gets older, he looks more and more hardened and sharply intelligent, but in reality he is a socially awkward, occassionally mischievous, deeply loving, neuro-divergent dork who spaces out a lot and second-guesses himself constantly. He's over there looking mean af but he's miles away, anxiously thinking about an arguement from 4 years ago and all the things he should have said.

[dummerjan]

The One Where Porsche and Kim Are Gym Buddies (19598 words) by fortunehasgivenup Chapters: 2/2 Fandom: รักโคตรร้ายสุดท้ายโคตรรัก | KinnPorsche: The Series (TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Porsche Pachara Kittisawat/Kinn Anakinn Theerapanyakun, Porchay Pichaya Kittisawat/Kim Khimhant Theerapanyakun Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Friendship, Explicit Sexual Content, Hand Jobs, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Orgasm Delay/Denial Summary: When the Phoenix comes up to Kim at the gym and introduces himself as Porsche, it's only polite to reply. They're both in the fighting circuit after all. One conversation leads to another and soon they're gossiping about their romantic lives. Romantic lives being the rich dude who's been railing Porsche into next week and the cute guy that Kim can't help but want to spend more time with. It's nice having a friend who doesn't know your brother.

Fanfic rec for @kprecfest Kim and Porsche's friendship is hilarious and everything I want out of a Kim & Porsche relationship. It made me crack up so many times but is just as sweet and heartfelt. I loved Porsche and Kinn's relationship dynamic and how assertive and confident Porsche is in this fic. They are truly equal here which js a nice change from canon. Speaking of Kim and Chay, their characterization is just as good. Kim is nervous like Chay and nevertheless pursues what or rather who he wants, but whereas Kim's pursue gets overshadowed by his uncertainty, Chay's directness overshadows his nervousness. I really like this contrast as well as the contrast of Kinn/Porsche and Kim/Chay throughout the fic. One of the funniest lines: “Huh.” Kinn’s standing there with his hands on his hips, dressed like he’s picking up his kid from school after the divorce. Kim has no idea how Tankhun can live in the same house as him and not burn his whole wardrobe.

[pregnancykink]

I’ve been sitting here staring at this J/D road head prompt in my inbox since Monday intending to try and have something to post today but alas…work…why do we need money to survive

[trueloveandy]

Snippet of my Bedussey fanfic I like.

[d0rothydraws]

Luke and Kieran bet you to call Sylus a good boy. Without thinking, you accepted. Content: Light choking, Deep throating, Body worship, praise kink and general highly sexual themes

w/c: 3.8k

ao3: Here

part 2: Here

a/n: This is my first actual Sylus fic I hope I did him justice. The idea of calling him a good boy popped into my head and I ran with it. loosely based off of the oasis card. i could do a part 2 to this if people want it. low key nervous about posting this i havent posted smut in 2 years

Luke and Kieran bet you to call Sylus a good boy. Without thinking, you accepted.

And now, you were at an auction, insisting you came along. Teasing you for being clingy, Sylus accepted your company and now the two of you were sitting at a large dinner table surrounded by very powerful and Important men. They were talking in a language you didn't understand but you didn't really care. Your mind wasn't on the auction or the weapons they were bartering. Your mind was on Sylus. The man beside you so close you could feel the brush of his thigh against yours under your dress.

You tried to be calm. Confident. And for the most part besides your heart that was beating out of your chest, were doing a good job. Even as you moved a hand under the table onto his thigh.

The reaction was minimal, yet the fact you got a reaction in the first place was a good sign. His hand that was holding a steak knife, cutting into his meal tightened. Pausing for a moment before continuing.

You trailed your hand over the inseam of his thigh, a gentle feather light touch. You felt him stiffen under your hand. You knew how sensitive he was. He leaned his lips to your ear, his voice a low rumble.

"Bored with the auction, sweetie? You're the one that asked to come along." His breath was hot against your ear and yet you didn't falter. Your hand resting on the muscle of his upper thigh.

"I can't understand what they're saying. Of course I'm bored." You muttered back quietly only for him to chuckle, sitting back straight in his chair.

You moved slow, your fingers trailing higher up on his thigh until you trailed a finger against the zipper. A hand moved to hold your wrist, firm as his fingers wrapped around your hand.

"Sweetie." He said, his voice having an edge to it. You could feel how your touches have effected him. The warmth under your hand half hard. You bit back a smirk. But before you could continue or respond, the men at the table stood. Large double doors opened as the men entered.

You tried to pull your hand away, getting ready to stand to follow. It was time for the auction to begin. And yet, his grip tightened. Finally you looked up at him as he stood, still holding your hand. Following his lead he walked you into the room. His silence was loud.

The room was filled with rows of chairs and at the front, a stage with cases and boxes. As you went to sit down, Sylus pulled you closer, landing on his lap instead. You gasped softly, looking up at him but his eyes were trained on the stage.

"Just sit still and behave, sweetie." He said into your ear his arms wrapping around your waist ignoring any looks.

You took in a deep breath, feeling him still half hard under you. The auction begun, bids flowed in as they showed off firearms more expensive than you could even comprehend. You bit you lip, getting an idea as your heart spiked.

It was a handgun. Nothing like you haven't seen a million times you were sure Sylus probably even had that exact one. Yet, you hummed, faking interest.

"That one. I want that one" You whispered, leaning your head back against his shoulder as your ass pushed more against his hips. You felt him take in a sharp breath.

"Really out of all of the ones that's the one that catches your eye?" He said with an amused tone, not knowing what game you were playing but he knew that there was one. "I have about 50 of that exact model you can pick from." He said, leaning his lips against your ear, his hands moving to your hips, holding you firmly.

"But I want it." You pouted, looking up at him. "One of my own." His lips twitched into a smirk, an eyebrow lifting.

"One million" he said, his voice cutting through the crowd. Silence settled for a moment before another man with a thick accent countered.

"Two million"

Sylus' eye twitched. All of this trouble for a small hand gun. It wasn't worth more than one, he would know. But he knew the man was just bidding against him to spite him.

"Ten million." Sylus said. A few murmurs erupted. The man who was countering gave a loud scoff. The bid was completed.

You leaned your lips up, brushing against his ear.

"Good boy."

A hand moved to cradle your neck, not choking but still form. You could feel his body stiffen under you. His cock twitching under you. Your body heated up, breath growing hotter at his reaction.

"You're playing a dangerous game, kitten." He purred in your ear, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. You should stop. You finished the bet. But the adrenaline was addicting.

"I'm just telling the truth." You replied back, his hand still firm on your neck, the other around your waist. "I'm not satisfied yet, though." You purred, your hand moving to curl at the nape of his neck, fingers tangling in his hair. He made a low sound. "Buy me another one. Be a good boy, and buy me another gun." You breathed into his ear, your voice was hot, needy. Greedy.

His hand on your neck tightened, his hips twitching against your ass as you felt the hardness under you build. Your eyes closed as you let out a heavy breath, blushing as your body began to tingle. You expected him to tell you to shut up. To mock you for calling him that. Not to be into it. Though he didn't outright say it, you could feel how he was slowly losing his handle on the situation.

Instead, he chucked. Soft lips pushed against your ear. "You're pushing it, sweetie." He growled softly, his nails biting the sides of your neck as his words sent a shiver down your spine. You knew you were playing with fire. But with his hand around your neck, people around you glancing to look at the man who just spent 10 million dollars on a simple handgun, you felt over confident.

"Oh sweetie," You retorted, refusing to give in so easily. You knew he liked a fight. "I'm not the one with a hardon right now from being called a good boy."

Your body was standing suddenly, your legs moving to the door before your mind caught up. Sylus' hand in yours as he practically dragged you out of the building. The ride back was quiet, yet the air was thick. You knew he was probably cursing his decision of bringing his bike and not a car, your chest pressed against his back, thighs against him as he drove as fast as the motor would let him.

You didn't have a chance to move off of the bike before his hands were pulling the helmet off of your head. His eyes dark as they looked into yours. His touch was exceptionally gently considering how you figured he'd be treating you right now. His fingers traced your jaw, guiding you off of the bike with his other hand. His hand wrapped around your hip, pulling you flush to his. Sylus' other hand taking your chin between his fingers. "You've been nothing but trouble tonight, kitten." He said, his tone unreadable as his thumb traced the bottom of your lip. You flicked out your tongue, bringing it into your mouth. His lips twitched into a smirk. "What's got you so riled up tonight?" He said with a chuckle, pressing the pad of his rough thumb against your tongue before pulling it back, smearing your saliva over your lip. "I had a bet. And I won." You said, a playful glimmer in your eye as you finally admitted what had been on your mind. "I had a bet with the boys that I wouldn't survive if I called you a good boy." You moved your hand to his cheek, trailing down the muscle of his neck. "And from what I've seen," Your voice dropped to a whisper. "You liked it."

"What a silly bet." He muttered as his hand on your hip pulled you closer. "What makes you think that I liked it?" He said raising and eyebrow. "Why tell you when I can show you." You whispered before moving to take his hand on your hip, thankful that he was following your lead for a change. Though it was always hard for him to deny you.

As you closed the door behind you, you looked up at Sylus, taking a slow breath. You could cut the tension with a knife. Yet, he didnt make a move. He knew this game, and he was willing to play it. At least, until he wasn't. As you stepped closer to him, a hand moved down the buttons on his shirt. "You know, you really are beautiful." You whispered, your words genuine.

"What, are you just going to praise me all night?" He said, a half laugh half scoff as he slid his fingers over your shoulder and under the sleeve of your dress. Your hand on his chest became more firm as you popped a couple of the buttons free. "Yes, actually." You said simply as his shirt opened to expose his chest. You seen his stomach contract as he took in a breath. "Now, lay down on the bed."

It seems you struck a nerve because he listened without protest. Shrugging off his shirt as it fell onto the ground, he laid on the bed. His eyes glued to you as you followed him, straddling his hips as your thighs rested on each side of his body.

You started with his neck. Your lips grazed the skin as you kissed him gently, trailing and peppering kisses down his jaw. "You're listening so well." You breathed against his cheek, his body tense as you rested your hands on his chest. "You really are a good boy." You giggled. He frowned, his eyebrows knotting. "Don't mock me." He grumbled, his breath hitching as your hand gently trailed over his chest. Your lips grazed his as you spoke. "I wouldn't dream of it." Your lips pressed against his in a slow, tender kiss. Your fingers circled his nipples. His breath hitched against the kiss as you added more pressure. You moved slowly. Your movements unrushed, tender. As if you were worshiping him. And in a way, you were. You wanted to overwhelm him with praise. With soft touches and kisses. He shivered softly as you pinched his nipples between your fingers. You broke the kiss, lips caressing the corner of his lips. "I could kiss you all night." You breathed before moving lower on his body. Your hips moved making him grunt as you adjusted. As your tongue trailed the canyon of his chest your hands moved against his sides. You felt his muscles, how they twitched under your hands. How his breath was heavy, his hips starting to become more active as he slowly became more needy. His hand moved to curl into your hair. His head leaning back as his eyes closed. A low sigh leaving his lips as he felt how your soft hands caressed his strong and admittedly tired body. As he felt your tongue flick against his nipple though, his hand tightened in your hair. A low groan that went straight between your thighs filled the room. Letting out a shaky breath in anticipation, you flicked your tongue a few more times. As the bud hardened, you wrapped your soft lips around it, your eyes looking up at Sylus through thick eyelashes only to find him looking back at you. His face was flushed, his eyes slightly glassed over. You had never seen him like this before.

You pinched his other nipple, twisting it between your fingers softly as you sucked the other one and then after a few moments you switched. His hips arched against your body, feeling his thick need tight against his pants from nothing more than a few kisses and touches. "I didn't know you were so needy." You whispered as you began to move lower. Your lips trailed down his stomach, feeling his abs flex under you as you reached his belt. "I like it." You purred, licking the wet patch through his pants earning a low groan from him. "Kitten if you keep teasing me I won't be able to stay still." He warned, his voice strained. The sound of his voice made you shiver, a soft hum of arousal leaving your lips as you looked up at him. Your tongue sticking out to lick the spot again, slowly.

"You can handle it." You said, smirking as you used the words he used against you so long again against him. You slowly sat back up on your heels as you looked at him. "Now, be good and undo your pants for me baby."

His large hands moved to his belt, his hips raising as the sound of metal echoed as he undid the belt, sliding it off and letting it fall off the bed. His hands trailed over the button of his pants. You watched with heat in your eyes as he circled it sensually before popping the button open. His thumbs hooked under his underwear and pants, pulling them down with one movement.

You licked your lips as you looked down at him. Pants around his thighs, his cock hard and dripping onto his stomach as his hands finished adjusting his pants. As he moved his hand to curl in your hair again you pulled back, smirking.

"You didn't ask to touch me first." You said in a playful tone as your finger trailed the thick vein on his thigh up to his cock. He twitched, taking a sharp breath.

"Can.. I touch you?" He asked, oh so obediently. It made your heart flutter.

"No." You said with a low purr as you moved back down between his thighs. Lips trailed up the thick muscle, licking that same vein that your hands trailed seconds before. As he was about to argue, a grunt filled the room as you licked up the bottom of his cock before taking the tip past your lips.

His hands clenched, nails digging into his hands as he struggled to obey your command. You looked up at him, slowly lowering your mouth lower, lower and lower. Your tongue pushed flat against the sensitive tip as you took him entirely into your throat. He groaned louder, his mouth opening slightly as he twitched, his hips shaking as he felt your throat tighten around him as you swallowed his cock.

"Fuck kitten." He moaned, his eyes never leaving you as his breath became labored. You moaned around him, feeling yourself struggle to breathe around him. He was so thick, so large that he reached the base of your throat. Your eyes rolled as you began to bob your head.

He couldn't stop himself from thrusting into your tight little throat. You said no touching, but never not to move. And now, you couldn't talk with your mouth occupied. So, he took full advantage of the situation.

You gasped around him as he met your lips, a wet sound filling the room as his hips thrusted against you. He reached deeper in your throat, swallowing around him he moaned, his head falling back. Giving in, his hand finally curled in your hair. Fingers wrapping tightly around you as he held you still. "I'm sorry, kitten. You're too good." He growled as he rutted into your mouth. A low moan fell out of your bruised mouth as you were silently grateful for the turn of events. As his thrusts became more uneven and his cock swelled more against your painfully tight throat you groaned as hot cum flowed against you. A few more thrusts before he slowly pulled out, a sheen of sweat on his body. His cock, still half hard laid against his stomach. You panted for breath, air painfully filling your lungs again. Gently he brought you up to his lips, kissing you slowly as his hands rested on your waist.

You pulled back giving him a pout. Your voice strained and raw. "That's not how it was supposed to go." You grumbled but blushing as his hands trailed down your waist and to cup your thighs.

"Mm but you would have done the same thing if you were in my position, sweetie." "No, I have more self restraint than you."

"I don't believe you." He whispered, a low chuckle. "Let's test it, shall we?"