#i still love him but the man is hard to draw

[librababe99]

In the Shadows of Gotham

cw: MDNI, 18+ ONLY, smut, Bruce Wayne x Girlfriend!Reader, fingering, p in v,  oral (f! receiving), overstimulation, body worship word count: 3.1K Summary: Bruce Wayne, the man who lives in the shadows of Gotham, the protector and savior of the city, has only one true weakness—you. After a long night of crime-fighting, Bruce returns home to indulge in your presence.

A/N: This is my first time writing for Bruce and I've had a few ideas swirling around for some time...I was ready to get something out! Happy reading <3

(Main masterlist) | (DC Masterlist) | (Marvel Masterlist)

The weight of Gotham’s night clung to the man you loved. Shadows danced through the large windows of Wayne Manor, wrapping their cold tendrils around the walls of the lavish bedroom where you lay waiting. The clock on the bedside table ticked past 3 AM, a constant reminder that Bruce was still out there, somewhere in the darkness, risking his life for the city that never slept.

You had grown used to the late nights, the endless hours of waiting, but tonight felt different. There was a heaviness in the air, thick with anticipation. You had caught glimpses of it over the last few days—how the tension seemed to coil around Bruce’s muscles like a bowstring, how his eyes darkened with an unspoken need whenever they settled on you. You could feel it building, the way you felt the storm brewing over Gotham before it broke the sky open.

The low, familiar sound of the Batmobile’s engine pulling into the hidden cave beneath the manor jolted you out of your thoughts. Bruce was home.

The idea made your heart race with a blend of excitement and nervousness. He had been so distant lately, his focus entirely on Gotham’s latest wave of crime. But tonight, as you lay in bed, waiting for him, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was about to change.

The door creaked open, and there he was, standing tall in the shadows of the room. Bruce Wayne. The man, the myth, the enigma wrapped in darkness. He shed the Bat like an old skin, letting it fall away as he stepped toward you. His broad shoulders were still encased in the black of his suit, but his cowl was off, revealing the intense blue of his eyes that locked onto you.

"You're awake," he said, his voice low and rough from the night's exertions.

"I couldn't sleep." Your voice was soft, inviting.

Bruce stood at the edge of the bed, towering over you. His gaze roamed over your form, lingering on the way your body was partially hidden beneath the sheets, but exposed enough to draw his attention. You felt the burn of his eyes on you like a physical touch, and heat bloomed in your core.

"You should rest," he murmured, though his voice was threaded with something darker, something deeper.

"I was waiting for you," you replied, sitting up slightly, the sheet slipping further down your chest, revealing the curve of your breasts.

His eyes darkened further, and a low growl of approval rumbled in his chest. "You shouldn't have to wait."

"But I want to," you whispered, your voice a breathy invitation. "I always wait for you, Bruce."

His control snapped like a taut wire. In a heartbeat, he was crawling onto the bed, moving with a predator's grace. He loomed over you, one hand coming up to cradle your face with surprising gentleness, while the other slid beneath the sheets, brushing over the softness of your skin.

"You have no idea what you do to me," he rasped, his lips inches from yours. "How hard it is to come back here night after night and not just...devour you."

"Then don't hold back," you breathed, leaning into his touch. "I want you, Bruce. All of you."

His lips crashed against yours in a kiss that stole the breath from your lungs. It was desperate, needy, filled with all the pent-up emotion he'd kept locked away behind the mask he wore for Gotham. His tongue slid against yours, and you moaned into his mouth, your fingers tangling in his thick, dark hair.

The hand that had been caressing your face moved down to grip your hip, pulling you flush against him. You could feel the hard length of him pressing against your thigh, and it sent a wave of heat pooling between your legs.

But Bruce didn’t move to undress you right away. Instead, he pulled back, staring down at you with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat.

"I need to touch you," he said, his voice rough with desire. "All of you. I need to remind myself that you're here. That you're real."

You nodded, your breath catching in your throat as he slowly peeled the sheet away from your body, exposing your naked form to his hungry gaze. His eyes roamed over every inch of you, as if he was memorizing the way you looked, committing it to memory in case he never got another chance.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered, his voice filled with awe.

You flushed under his praise, your body trembling with anticipation as he lowered himself down beside you. His large hands, rough from years of fighting, slid over your skin, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. He started at your collarbone, his fingers tracing the delicate line of your neck before dipping lower to cup your breasts. His thumbs brushed over your nipples, and you gasped, arching into his touch.

He took his time, worshipping every inch of you with his hands, his mouth following the path his fingers had blazed. He kissed the hollow of your throat, the curve of your breast, the soft swell of your stomach. Each touch, each kiss, was slow, deliberate, as if he was savoring the taste of you, the feel of your skin beneath his lips.

You were lost in the sensation, your body humming with pleasure. But it wasn’t enough. You needed more.

“Bruce,” you whimpered, your hands fisting in the sheets as his mouth trailed lower, kissing along the inside of your thighs. “Please...”

He groaned against your skin, his breath hot as he kissed his way closer to where you needed him most. “Patience, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Let me take my time with you.”

You whimpered again, your body aching with need, but you knew better than to rush him. Bruce was a man who controlled every aspect of his life with iron discipline, and that control extended to the bedroom. He liked to draw things out, to savor the slow build of pleasure until you were trembling on the edge of release.

And that’s exactly what he did.

His mouth finally found your core, and you cried out as he dragged his tongue slowly up your slit, teasing you with featherlight touches. He hummed against you, the sound vibrating through your entire body as he tasted you. His tongue circled your clit, drawing tight, controlled patterns that had you gasping for air.

Your hands flew to his hair, gripping the dark strands tightly as he continued to torment you with his mouth. He licked and sucked, his tongue never stopping its relentless assault on your clit. You could feel the orgasm building, a tight coil of pleasure winding in your belly.

“Bruce,” you gasped, your hips bucking against his face. “I’m so close...please...”

He groaned again, his grip on your thighs tightening as he increased the pressure of his tongue, pushing you closer to the edge. You could feel the heat building, could feel yourself teetering on the brink of release.

And then he stopped.

You cried out in frustration as he pulled back, his lips glistening with your arousal. “Bruce, please...I need...”

“I know what you need,” he growled, crawling back up your body. His eyes were dark with lust, his pupils blown wide as he hovered over you. “But I’m not done with you yet.”

Before you could protest, he was kissing you again, his mouth hot and insistent against yours. You could taste yourself on his lips, the salty sweetness of your arousal mixed with the raw, masculine flavor of him. It was intoxicating, and you couldn’t get enough.

His hand slid between your bodies, his fingers finding your slick entrance and slipping inside you. You moaned into his mouth, your body arching off the bed as he began to pump his fingers in and out of you, curling them just right to hit that sweet spot deep inside you.

“Bruce,” you whimpered, your nails digging into his back. “Please...I need...”

“You’ll get what you need,” he rasped, his breath hot against your ear. “But first, I want to feel you come around my fingers. I want to watch you fall apart for me.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you clenched around his fingers as the coil of pleasure in your belly tightened once more. He added a third finger, stretching you in a way that was just on the edge of too much, but it felt so good that you couldn’t stop the moan that tore from your throat.

His thumb brushed over your clit, and that was all it took to send you tumbling over the edge. Your body seized, and you cried out as the orgasm crashed through you, your walls clenching around his fingers in waves of pleasure.

Bruce groaned, watching you with a look of pure, unadulterated lust as you fell apart beneath him. “That’s it,” he murmured, his voice rough with desire. “That’s my girl.”

You were still trembling from the aftershocks when he pulled his fingers out of you, his lips crashing against yours once more. You could taste yourself on his tongue, the tang of your release mixing with the roughness of his kiss.

Bruce pulled back, his chest heaving as he looked down at you, his eyes darker than the Gotham night. His hands were still on your trembling thighs, holding you open for him, and the way he gazed at you was as if you were the only thing keeping him tethered to the world. There was something primal in his expression, a need so deep it made your pulse race all over again.

"You're stunning when you come," he said in a low, gravelly voice, the sound vibrating deep in your chest. His fingers trailed up your thigh, teasingly grazing your oversensitive folds, and you whimpered at the sensation. You were still throbbing from your first orgasm, and even the slightest touch made you shiver with both pleasure and overstimulation.

But Bruce had other plans for you tonight. He leaned in close, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, “I’m not finished with you yet, sweetheart.”

A thrill shot through you at his words. You could feel the weight of his desire pressing against your thigh, hard and insistent, but instead of giving in to his own need, Bruce seemed intent on worshiping you, on drawing out every ounce of pleasure he could. You had seen him like this before—focused, deliberate, a man on a mission. Only now, his mission was you.

You bit your lip as he kissed down your neck again, his lips and tongue tracing the path of your earlier shudders. He was slow, methodical, savoring the way your body responded to him. Your skin was hypersensitive after your release, and every kiss, every brush of his rough hands, sent sparks of sensation through you.

“Bruce…,” you breathed, unsure whether you were begging for more or asking for mercy.

His lips curled into a smirk against your skin. “Too much?” he asked softly, though there was a teasing note in his voice. His hand slid back between your legs, his fingers lightly tracing your swollen, soaked folds. "Or maybe... not enough?"

The ache between your thighs reignited at his touch, and you moaned softly, your body arching toward him. You were caught between the lingering sensitivity of your first climax and the overwhelming desire for more. The pleasure had barely faded, and already, you felt it building again. Bruce's fingers dipped inside you once more, stroking you with a maddening slowness that made you squirm beneath him.

"I want to feel you come again," he said, his voice rough with need. "I want to see how many times I can make you fall apart for me tonight."

His words, dark and delicious, sent a new wave of heat pooling in your belly. You could feel the tension returning, the slow, insistent pulse of pleasure building as Bruce continued to work his fingers inside you, his thumb brushing over your clit in rhythmic circles. You clenched around him, your body already betraying you, already chasing the high of release again.

He was relentless, patient, his fingers curling against that sweet spot deep inside you, his thumb rubbing circles around your oversensitive clit. You could barely think, barely breathe as the pleasure built higher and higher, threatening to overwhelm you. You had never been so close to overstimulation before, and it was both too much and not enough all at once.

“Bruce—please, I—I can’t…” You gasped, your hands clutching at his shoulders, nails digging into his skin.

“You can,” he growled, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “You will.”

His thumb pressed harder against your clit, his fingers moving faster inside you, and the coil of pleasure in your belly tightened so quickly you couldn’t stop the moan that tore from your throat. You were trembling, shaking with the intensity of it, your entire body on the verge of shattering under his touch.

Then, without warning, the orgasm hit you again, harder than before. Your vision blurred, your entire body arching off the bed as the pleasure exploded through you, wave after wave crashing over you. You cried out his name, your voice hoarse with the force of your release, and Bruce groaned in response, watching you fall apart beneath him.

“That’s it,” he whispered, his voice thick with satisfaction. “Let go, sweetheart.”

Your body trembled with the aftershocks, your chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath. Bruce’s fingers slipped out of you, and you whimpered at the sudden emptiness, at the loss of his touch. But he wasn’t finished.

He kissed you again, his lips soft but insistent, and you melted into him, still shaking from the force of your second orgasm. His body pressed against yours, his hardness unmistakable as he settled between your legs. You could feel the heat of him, the weight of him, and it sent a fresh wave of desire coursing through you.

“You’re incredible,” he murmured, his lips trailing down the curve of your neck. “But I need more. I need to be inside you.”

You moaned softly, your body still thrumming with overstimulation, but the thought of him filling you, of him finally giving in to his own desire, made the ache between your thighs flare with renewed intensity.

"Please," you whispered, your voice trembling with need. "I want you, Bruce. I need you."

He groaned at your words, his resolve crumbling as he reached down to line himself up with your entrance. He was thick, hard, and the moment the tip of him pressed against your slick heat, you gasped, your body arching toward him in anticipation.

Slowly, agonizingly, Bruce pushed inside you, stretching you in a way that had your toes curling in pleasure. You moaned softly, your hands gripping his biceps as he filled you completely, inch by inch. It was almost too much after everything he had already put you through, but the pleasure far outweighed the pain.

“God, you feel so good,” he growled, his breath hot against your neck as he finally bottomed out inside you. “So fucking tight. So perfect.”

He stayed still for a moment, letting you adjust to the feel of him, but you could feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles trembled with restraint. He was holding himself back for you, trying not to overwhelm you too soon, but you didn’t want restraint anymore.

"Bruce," you whimpered, rolling your hips against him, urging him to move. "Please…"

That single word broke him.

With a deep, primal groan, Bruce began to thrust into you, slow at first but with a growing intensity that had you gasping for air. Every stroke sent a shock of pleasure through you, your oversensitive body responding to him in ways you hadn’t thought possible. Each time he bottomed out, the head of his cock pressed against that sweet spot inside you, and the pleasure radiated outward, overwhelming you.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, your back arching off the bed as you moaned his name over and over again. He was relentless, his hips snapping against yours with increasing force, each thrust driving you higher and higher toward that precipice you had already tumbled over twice tonight.

"Look at me," Bruce growled, his hand gripping your jaw, tilting your head so that your eyes met his. His gaze was intense, filled with heat and adoration, and the sight of him above you, so consumed by his need for you, made your heart race. "I want to see you come for me again."

Your body obeyed before your mind could catch up. The tight coil of pleasure in your belly unraveled, and your orgasm hit you like a freight train. You cried out his name, your walls clenching around him, milking him as wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over you.

Bruce groaned, his hips stuttering as your release triggered his own. With a deep, guttural moan, he buried himself inside you, his body trembling as he spilled into you. His thrusts slowed, becoming more erratic as he rode out his orgasm, until finally, he collapsed on top of you, both of you breathing hard, slick with sweat and sated.

For a few moments, the only sound in the room was the sound of your ragged breaths mingling together. Bruce’s weight was comforting on top of you, grounding you as your mind slowly returned to your body. He didn’t pull out right away, staying inside you, still hard enough to keep you full as he kissed your forehead, your cheek, your lips.

“You’re amazing,” he whispered, his voice rough but filled with something softer, something tender.

You smiled up at him, your hand sliding up to cup his face. "So are you."

Bruce let out a soft chuckle, his lips brushing against yours in a lazy, languid kiss. “I think I might’ve broken you,” he teased, his thumb tracing the curve of your swollen lips.

“You did,” you admitted with a breathless laugh. “In the best possible way.”

He rolled over onto his back, taking you with him so that you were lying on his chest. His arms wrapped around you, holding you close, and you let out a contented sigh as you snuggled into the warmth of his body.

“I could stay like this forever,” you murmured, pressing a kiss to his chest, just above his heart.

Bruce smiled softly, his hand stroking your back in slow, soothing circles. “So could I.”

For a while, the two of you simply lay there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the world outside forgotten. There was no crime, no shadows. There was only the two of you, tangled together in the aftermath of your shared pleasure, basking in the warmth of your love.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

The Dark Lord

Summary: The reader gets caught stealing from the infamous Dark Lord Winchester. Instead of killing her though, he offers her a job for some reason...

Pairing: Dark Lord!Dean x employee!reader

Word Count: 2,500ish

Warnings: language, briefly mentioned torture/killing

A/N: Think of this as a slightly magical AU set in the present day. I might pick this up again if there seems to be interest in more!...

________

“I don’t care what the hell you do to me, I’m not-” You cut yourself off when a blonde woman in her thirties and sky high heels held out a cup of hot coffee. “Is that…espresso?”

“It’s a roasted blend from Guatemala, boss is big on it lately. He’s so boring and never let’s me give him anything but straight black but I like to serve all our guests something nice.” She set the cup in your hand, an artisanal drawing of a W set in the center. “It has notes of hazelnut and caramel.”

“Thank you?” you said, her eyes lighting up. “Is this…poisoned?” 

Her face fell so fast you felt awful for the way tears prickled her eyes. “Everyone always asks that. It’s just nice coffee.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, taking a sip and smiling. “It’s lovely.”

“Thanks,” she mumbled, turning to leave the dark room you were sat in.

“It really is good coffee.” She perked up a little, nodding once. “It’s just…I couldn’t help but ask.”

You held up your chained hands, the woman giving a sad smile. “Dark Lord Winchester is really the sweetest man I’ve ever met. I have no idea why everyone that he has come in his office thinks he’s going to kill them.”

“He kills people all the time…over nothing…” you said. She laughed and your stomach dropped.

“Oh no, Lord Winchester doesn’t do that! I’ve never seen him kill a soul that didn’t deserve it. Well, maybe a few but I seriously doubt he’ll kill you! He doesn’t tend to kill women as often, just a little torture. I’m sure you’ll be fine!” You withered into your seat when she left.

At least you had good coffee before your demise.

You jumped when the door crashed open, hot coffee spilling over yourself. It dripped down your shirt and soaked into your jeans, your skin stinging when a blur passed your periphery. You swallowed thickly as a man in a black bomber jacket, dark gray t shirt and black jeans walked in front of you.  He crossed his muscular arms as he leaned back against the desk, peering down at you.

He looked like he wanted to kill you. Or fuck you. Or both.

“Hi, Dark Lord Winchester,” you squeaked out. He bent at his hips, leaning down, watching you slump down even further. “Oh fuck, just kill me now.”

“Not yet,” he hummed, straightening with a hard set jaw. He looked down his nose at you, making you feel like an ant under his mighty six foot one muscular frame. “My security caught you stealing from one of my warehouses. I’m told it was a prescription drug.”

“Yes, Lord Winchester,” you said quietly. You looked at your wet clothes, waiting for him to drag you down to his dungeon and rip you apart.

Instead a cell phone was tossed in your lap. You scrunched up your face and gazed up at him, Lord Winchester still staring you down. 

“Uh, is this my last call or something?” you asked. He breathed deeply, looking over your head. 

“Two options. Option one. I will kill you for stealing from me.”

“I’d like to hear option two,” you said quickly, Lord Winchester glaring at you.

“Option two. You work for me. I need an assistant and perhaps I’ll find you valuable enough to keep you alive long term.”

“Option two,” you said, nodding your head. He stood up straight and hummed. 

“I thought so. You’re dismissed,” he said. You glanced down at your cuffs, Lord Winchester ignoring you. He walked around behind his desk and sat, glancing at his computer. “Do not make me ask again.”

You scurried out of the chair, grasping the empty mug in one hand, cellphone in the other. 

“Y/L/N.” You froze, back to him. Fuck, he’d changed his mind. He was just toying with you. He was going to- “Get up to speed this afternoon. I expect you here to start eight am sharp.”

“Yes, Lord Winchester.” Quickly you left, pulling the door shut behind you. You let out a sigh, your overly friendly coffee bearing companion rushing around the corner with a smile. “I told you he wouldn’t kill you! Boss made me promise not to tell. I’m Donna by the way. Deputy Head of Security. I volunteered to be your new hire buddy!”

You blinked slowly at the blonde, tilting your head, her eyes drifting downward in alarm. “Oh no, you’ve burned yourself! Let’s get you out of those cuffs, to the infirmary and into a fresh change of clothes. Lord Winchester wants to go through all of your HR paperwork today and a brief tour before sending you home.”

“I uh,” you put a hand against your head, shaking it out. “Why did he give me a job and not kill me?”

“He must like you. Normally he kills people or tortures them or makes them pay him back with hefty interest. Oh!” She pulled out a thin envelope from her back pocket, handing it to you. “This is your offer letter. It’s not really an offer, more of you have to accept or you die sort of thing but he wanted to make sure you got this.”

You felt like you were in a strange dream as you tore it open, slowly walking by Donna’s side down a hallway. “So Michael is our staff doctor. He’ll check your arms-”

You nearly fell when you’d read the salary on the offer letter. Donna caught your waist, alarm written all over her face. “Oh my god. I’m calling for-”

You shoved the paper in her face, taping the bolded line. “Is this a joke? He’s paying me this much?”

Donna laughed, urging you to walk forward again. 

“Six figures? Six figures?!” you screeched, Donna shaking her head. “What-”

“Working for Lord Winchester is lucrative but…there’s an expectation of discretion. I mean, he is the Dark Lord of the land. It’s not the sort of job you want to slack off at.” 

“Wonderful.”

It was late, well into the evening, when you’d finished with your tour. You were in the lobby of Lord Winchester’s fortress, rubbing your eyes. Michael had given you a pair of scrubs to change into while your stained clothes were sent to the launder. Thankfully he’d deemed your skin only irritated from the hot coffee, not burned. Most of the day had been in HR, Donna sitting in to help guide you through your options.

Options like free healthcare. A pension. On-site housing. As his assistant, or “Personal Executive to The Dark Lord” as your title in the payroll system stated, you were expected to live in the fortress and move in this weekend. All covered and utilities paid for by the company. 

A chef that cooked all your meals, if you were so inclined. Shuttle services to and from school in town with a tutor available after school to help with homework. A grand library for kids to study in and for the adults to further their own educational studies if they chose. There was even an inter-company softball league that got quite competitive. 

Dark Lord Winchester on paper was the best fucking boss in the world.

A throat cleared behind you, making you jump and drop the stack of papers in your hands. You spun around, Dark Lord Winchester standing there.

“Sorry, sir,” you said, kneeling down, attempting to pick up the papers as quickly as possible. To your surprise, he dropped to one knee, leaning his body and grabbing a folder that had your company credit card inside. He held it out to you, deep green eyes watching you as you hesitated to take it.

“If you’re going to work for me, you can’t be scared shitless all the time.” You snatched the folder, his eyes raising briefly before he stood tall. He held out a hand, your own eyes wide. “This is where you put your hand in mine and I help you stand up.”

You swallowed, doing as told, his strong arm effortlessly pulling you up.

“Look at that. You touched me and didn’t turn to dust,” he chuckled. You only stared, Lord Winchester looking over your head. “Let me make something clear to you. I treat my employees extremely well. In return, I expect their best work and their loyalty. If you show up to work and do a good job, there is no reason to fear me.”

“How do I know I’m doing a good job?” you whispered. He looked down to you, pursing his lips.

“You’re the damn Executive Assistant to The Dark Lord. You ask a question, you do it with confidence. Ask correctly and I’ll answer.”

“How will I know I’m doing my job well?” you said, holding his gaze this time. 

“Any woman that would risk stealing from the Dark Lord, knowing very well what I do to thieves, to get medicine for their kid brother? That is the kind of woman that I know will do spectacular in this job.” 

You parted your lips, Dark Lord Winchester glancing at them before looking away. “How do you-”

“I know lots of things.” He checked the dark rolex on his wrist, frowning. “It’s late. I’ll drive you home myself. Wait on the front steps.”

You watched him go down a different hallway, your head going a million miles an hour.

What the fuck was happening?

You stepped outside and five minutes later, an older black Impala, very nicely taken care of, pulled up, Dark Lord Winchester behind the wheel. You slid in the passenger seat, a wonderful aroma in the air. He drove you home in silence save for the soft rock music playing through the speakers.

Your face burned when he drove that beautiful car through your less than glamorous neighborhood and as soon as he pulled to a stop in front of your very small rental, you were getting out. 

“Y/L/N,” he chided. You stopped halfway, Lord Winchester reaching into the backseat and pulling over the back a large white bag. “For you and your brother. Dinner and his medication for a few months. Michael will be able to refill it when it’s up and can schedule a physical with him to check if his treatment needs to alter. Please apologize to your brother from me. He’s likely frightened being alone judging by the way every light is on inside.”

You shook your head, your lip tugging up. He narrowed his eyes as your smirk grew. “What is that look for?”

“Dark Lord Winchester my ass. You’re a good person, aren’t you?” He scoffed. “Nah, I’m starting to see this for what it is. Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone you’re nice deep down.”

“I’m not nice,” he growled. You took the bag from his hand, softening your smile. “Do not think I’m kind.”

“Oh, of course not,” you said, holding up the bag. You got out, closing the door behind you. But you bent down, leaning into the open window. “Thank you. He…his asthma’s been getting worse lately. This will really help us. All of it will help.”

He was quiet, looking out at the dark road. “A car will pick you up at 7:30. Movers will come by Saturday morning to pack up your things.”

“Goodnight, Lord Winchester,” you said, stepping back.

“It’s Dean,” he said, revving the engine, making your heart race. He took off, your chest still thumping when you went inside. 

“Kyle! I’m home with dinner!” You called. Kyle came rushing out of the hallway, a blanket pulled over his head. “I’m so sorry I’m late, buddy. Did you get scared?”

“No,” said the twelve year old, doing an awful job of hiding his relief. “What’s for dinner?”

“I’m not sure. Why don’t you find out for us?” You handed him the bag, Kyle rushing back to the kitchen with it. “How was school?”

“Fine.” He said nothing more as you entered, pleasantly surprised to find a balanced dinner of chicken, vegetables and some sweet potatoes inside. “Is this take out?”

“No. I uh, got a new job today,” you said, opening the box that had his medicine inside. “Hey. Got you a refill.”

“What’s your new job?” he asked, taking a plate from you and scooting into his spot at the small two seater table.

“I uh…work for Dark Lord Winchester. We’re, uh, moving on Saturday to live at the fortress. You’ll have your own room and there’s some other kids that live there too for you to play with. He uh, actually wanted me to tell you how sorry he was for keeping me late tonight.”

“Really? Cool.” You rolled your eyes. “Does he actually wear a skull mask and a black cloak?”

“No,” you laughed. “He looks very normal. Maybe you’ll get to meet him someday.”

“Cool,” he said again, frowning when you pointed at his untouched vegetables. “Y/N-“

“Eat them or Dark Lord Winchester won’t be happy…” you chided, Kyle shrinking down into his seat, reluctantly taking a bite, a flash of surprise on his face.

“These are way better than when you make them!” He started to scarf down the brussels sprouts as you sighed.

“I’m not dead and you’re eating veggies for once. I’ll take that as a win for today.”

The Next Morning

“Good morning, Lord Winchester,” you said as you rose from your desk outside his office on the far end of the second floor, dressed in skinny jeans, a bright yellow sleeveless blouse and an oversized blazer. Dean looked you up and down, his eyebrows raising. “HR said the dress code-“

“If I wanted everyone to wear suits, I’d have everyone wear them. Your outfit is fine. You’re probably not going to wear heels with the running around you’ll do,” he said, entering his office, waving for you to follow after. His legs looked long in the dark denim that clung to his thighs. He wore a white long sleeve Henley shirt with a navy button up over top, sleeves rolled up his forearms. “If you would stop staring at me could we get started?”

Your face flushed as you sat in the chair opposite his desk, Dean sitting with a groan and greedily sucking down a cup of coffee. 

“So your job is to make my life easier,” he said, opening his laptop, frowning at it. “I get a lot of…requests from my department heads. I need you to be a buffer between me and them for the day to day. I also need you to handle pop ups and act as a sounding board for myself.”

“HR went over the expectations with me,” you said, Dean grunting as he drank more coffee again. 

“Great. I need you to start with brainstorming ideas for how to rescue my brother from Crowley. We’ll meet after lunch to discuss.”

“King of The Dark Lands Crowley?” Dean hummed. “Isn’t he…”

“A demon? Oh yeah,” he said, giving you a barely there smile. “Shouldn’t be a problem for a little thief like you.”

________

A/N: Interested in more? Let me know with a comment!

[syoddeye]

i don't know what this is. lightly edited. price x reader. ~600 words.

cw: dubcon, violence, blood, a little gore, stalking, abrupt non-ending

freshly promoted lieutenant john price is fairly drunk when he spots a woman backed into a wall, staring wide-eyed up at some nitwit. she's clearly frightened, chest heaving, shoulders pulled up toward her ears.

swaying in the mouth of the alley, he thinks he's caught a lover's quarrel. thinks otherwise when the man pinches her chin, and she rips it out of his grasp to meet john's gaze in the dark.

it's instinct. it's duty.

he rolls his bad shoulder as he barrels down the alleyway, face fixing into a glower that's cowed even his rowdiest subordinates. the scrap's short, most are, but he cuts his knuckles on the man's teeth. he sends him stumbling, tail tucked into the night. his hand stings, but a quiet gasp draws his bleary-eyed stare back to the woman on the wall. yet instead of a thank you, she takes three of his fingers into her mouth.

he nearly keels over. he's never sobered up quicker in his life. goes light-headed.

she licks the thin ribbons of blood streaming from the wound, and her eyes roll to the back of her skull. her tongue darts to the webbing of his hand, then laves over the torn flesh. her grip on the front of his jacket tightens, arms slightly trembling as she licks and licks and licks.

it's obscene. disgusting. he ought to push her away. she's a stranger. it's blood. yet he finds himself, a trained killing machine, helpless. stuck watching, rapt, until his skin's clean and soaked in pink-colored spit.

she wipes her mouth with her thumb, then sucks that into her mouth, too. her eyes find him with an almost shy smile, lips curving around the digit.

thanks, handsome, she purrs. what's your name?

he doesn't stick around to share it, and never tells a soul.

he was drunk. it must've been a dream. a nightmare.

-

it's puerile fascination. a fleeting crush. you deny it until you find yourself stalking him in the streets. loitering outside his residence. staring hard at the walls that separate you. oh, how easy it would be to dig through the rock and burrow inside him.

you learn his name.

john price.

he occupies your waking. slips into the quiet spaces between thoughts. settles in your mind and kicks up his feet. he makes a little home for himself there, whether he knows it or not. after your first and only tête-à-tête, it's clear he's not ready to make it into reality. he needs more time and to see more of the world.

you follow him in town, and when he goes to the city. you're tempted to follow even when he leaves, but your considerable territory needs minding, and your attention is already stretched thin. so you spend his absences fretting like any other wartime wife would.

mrs. price.

years pass in a blink. you wait. both of you take lovers, but your loyalty never strays.

he climbs the ranks. matures. hardens into his own formidable creature. your mouth still waters when he returns home bandaged and bloodied. of the innumerable people you've sampled, his is the only taste you remember.

on that noisy night in piccadilly, you finally get the chance to look after him like he did you. you haven't felt so alive since you, well, were, gorging on the men who pursue and try to kill him. you drag them kicking and screaming into the wreckage, tunneling into chests and snapping necks. you pull the pins on their grenades to cover your tracks.

drenched in blood, drunk with it, you watch him disappear into a ruined building with a younger man. you tag along, sticking to the shadows, ready to pounce at a moment's notice.

husband. mate.

the young man cannot break the lock. the bomb will detonate. over the beeping, the sobs, and the unfortunate's desperate screams—you listen for his heartbeat. it's all you care about. you prepare to launch across the destroyed shop, to crush him to your chest and flee, but then he moves.

he heaves the poor bastard over a railing, and you fall further in love.

[xo-codbby]

werewolf!simon x reader 🖤

18+, mdni, sex n the whole lot lolz. first time writing werewolf smut, forgive any mistakes 🫡🫣

"you touch yourself while i was gone, bunny?"

the question had been innocent enough but the way he had you under him in the bed made you shiver in anticipation, body trembling in pure pleasure. deft fingers pry your thighs open, two thick fingers dragging along your slick slit, collecting the honeyed essence on the tips of his fingers. a dark chuckle rolling off his tongue as his hums softly in satisfaction, dark brown eyes burning into yours before your taste dance along his tongue. he lets out a satisfied groan, a thick sound erupting deep from his chest as you watch his face darken in pure lust and love.

his broad frame shivers in delight but this time he has to restrain himself, its already so hard when his cock is aching for some relief. he bends slightly, his tongue trailing up the hollow of your neck as he growls softly collecting your taste to hold close.

"needy for me already, hm? didn't do a thing yet" he blows softly across your waiting cunt, his smile peeking through when he sees your poor neglected pussy twitch just for him. you don't even get to answer before you feel his thick finger slip deep inside you, slowly working and stretching you open. he's absolutely mesmerised by the sight, intently watching how your greedy pussy swallows his finger, revelling in the soft whimper you let out as he goes deeper.

"so tight for me, love. bet your little fingers couldn't stretch you out the way i can, huh?" he slides in another, soaking up the way you cried softly clenching desperately around his thick digits already so overstimulated from not being able to have any relief

"none of tears now, quit that crying baby" he coos softly, his face bending slightly as his nose brushes against your clit making you buck your hips

"feels s'good si" you murmur breathlessly trying to rock your hips against his hand only causing him to chuckle, gently tutting his tongue. he only lets his fingers do the work, curling upwards making you groan softly. you knew he was still pissed from earlier, back when he saw a recruit around you. it was bad enough he agitated from the loss of the mission but seeing you give a hug to the other man had set him off and you found yourself in his barracks with him reminding you just who owned you like this

"wonder if that bastard thinks he could get you like this" simon hissed out softly, retracting his fingers looking at your flushed face. the sight makes him so possessive, he's half determined just to fuck you in front of the recruit so he knows not to mess with his woman. but the other half is too selfish, not wanting to share with another man just how pretty you sound.

"si pleas-" your sentence gets cut off with a moan as he finally gives in, big hands wrapped around your thighs his thick tongue lapping against your opening before splitting you open drinking up your slick. it's all too much and not enough, he's mindful not to hurt you but the urge to claim you only grows higher. his hips rut against the mattress desperately, grunting into your cunt as he sucks on your clit

he doesn't let up his assault between your legs, the beast in him not satisfied even as his teeth scraped your skin gently leaving soft bruises against your skin. he usually would've let you cum a few times on his hands before he works you on his knot but tonight he feels needy, feels agitated still at the other man who had his filthy hands all over you

you were right on the edge, every nerve in your body set ablaze by the man between your legs. your body curls as he draws out your orgasm but he doesn't let you cum, not just yet anyway. he manhandles your body, pulling you up against his chest as the other shreds his trousers off shrugging them somewhere in the depths of the room

"mine. you're fucking mine, you understand that don't you?" every word is enunciated with a soft kiss as you nod quickly hands grasping on his chest feeling the muscles twitch under your touch eliciting a soft growl from his throat. you feel the head of his cock against your entrance as you gasp softly, legs shaking slightly as you breathe shakily

"it won't fit-" "i'll make it fucking fit, love"

the last bit of his resolve shatters, completely driven by his innate instinct to satisfy you. to mate you, to claim you. he roughly grabs you by your hips, lining himself up before pushing deep inside you, stretching you open and laying you bare. your walls hugged around his weeping cock, aching with pure need as he pulls you further on him.

his calloused hands smooth over your body, across your skin reverently for his own peace of mind that you really were in his arms. he adores how easily you seem to fall apart in his grasp, his thumb grazing over your nipples enjoying how you pressed up against him

he thrusts back into your needy cunt, feeling him twitch and pulse inside you as you moaned softly in his arms. barely able to support yourself as he holds you caging you between his muscles and the bed. desperately rutting himself into you to prove to you how devoted he was, how he was yours just as much as you were his.

"look how pretty y'look sucking up my cock, lovie. s'fuckin gorgeous" he pants, words slurred completely drunk on your taste and feel of you. completely lost in the way your warm walls flutter around him, coaxing him to drive further into you. it had been days since he wwas able to have you and now that he was nearing the months where he'd go into heat, he found it hard to compose himself like he usually could

"m'gonna cum baby" he moans causing you to cling onto him, both of you lost in ecstasy. his senses are in overdrive, hips sloppily moving as he captures your lips against his groaning at the taste of you. you can feel him grow needy, stretching you over his thick knot that was already swelling. his release on the cusp but he refused to let go until you were with him, until you were properly claimed

"need to cum" you whimper back and it's only when your ankles loop around his back that he loses his composure, rutting into you like the depraved animal he was. he drives you closer, deeper, your senses completely overpowered just as his were

with one last deep thrust, ghost pushes his knot burying it deep inside you both as he sends the pair of you over the edge. it's thicker than you remember, bigger than you thought but somehow he managed to make it fit like he promised. he spills into you, not willing to let you come down from your high as he humps into you. a soft groan as his face settles in the crook of your neck, stroking your back softly his hands steadying your waist his cock trying to bury deep inside your willing hole.

"y'did so good f'me lovie" he kisses your skin, gazing down at you with pure adoration you've never been loved so tenderly like this before. there you were sprawled out on his knot, in his arms, against him safe and sound. he might've been a beast to others, untamed and unrule but to you he was your simon. your sweet man who'd maim and kill for you

"i love you" your voice is so soft, you both weren't going anywhere tonight. he needed this just as much as you did, your body against his as he lazily tugs the covers around you both pressing soft kisses up your neck and cheek.

"i love you" he nuzzled his nose against your cheek, settling down once more as he pulled you close to his chest. the soft beat of his heart lulling you asleep, his warmth better than any blanket could provide you with. you know deep down its only a matter of time before you both go af it again but until then you rest up, cuddling close to the man you loved deeply more than anything.

i kinda gave up halfway through this LMAO my bad hope you enjoyed !

[door-insurance]

So I played Life is Strange 2 for the first time ever

I didn’t wanna play it for a long time not cause it didn’t have Chloe or max (tbh I got sick of their asses around BtS they’re not even my faves)

By that point I was in college and had lost interest in the whole franchise but also I was very apprehensive of white creatives writing racism with no input from the group they’re portraying, they don’t usually do a good job

Sometimes they make it cartoony, sometimes they trivialize it, sometimes they romanticize it

So years later adulthood kicked my ass and I came back crawling to this franchise for some comfort, I finished True colors annnnd I finally started 2 after hesitating annnnd

^sketched this while playing

SPOILERS

I actually liked it

I liked Sean, the drawing segment he does- he was such a likable main guy, deserved better honestly.

I also liked Daniel, he was very adorable and I never got it when people called him annoying like no shit the 9 year old is gonna act like a 9 year old- just don’t be a jerk to him, I know he can be frustrating but that’s what taking care of a kid is like

And lis had always been about realistic complex characters, y’all can’t handle a traumatized nine year?

I have two younger siblings and two nieces plus I’ve been a bratty younger sibling to two older sisters

Maybe I’m just used to it?? But honestly Daniel wasn’t that bad

The racism portrayal in the first few episodes was not all that cartoony and it actually felt real at times, like I can check for American news rn and find stories similar to what you see in episodes 1-3 (minus the telekinesis)

Although the gas station racist hick spouting trump slogans was a bit on the nose, it’s more of dialogue thing

Some people thought the gas station detainment was egregious but it can happen unfortunately, especially to vulnerable people in rural areas and by someone of a higher systematic advantage

One other thing I did not like was the love interests, I thought Finn and Cassidy were alright characters on their own but why do we need romance in this game where the protagonists are always on the run?

I don’t like to compare lis 1 to 2 but when it comes to the romance the former did a better job as it spent more time establishing it, plus max stayed in the same place for the majority of the game- but you know what? Sean doesn’t have to be in a relationship right? It can be a one off thing, that’s fine

Which brings me to my next point

How old are Cassidy and Finn?

Cause Sean is still 16 and no, being on the road didn’t mentally age him- he’s not “mature” for his age

He is still a kid

So for some reason Dontnod never really specified their ages but some articles described them as teens (they look 30 to me) and they can be around 18 right? Their lives are hard stress ages you- it happens, we can with live that, it’s just a two years difference

But teens or not

why did they animate a whole knocking the boots scene???

Of all the games in the series, the only one that gets a sex scene is the one with the much younger protagonist and his ambiguously aged older looking love interest and I think it’s only with Cassidy you get to do it in the tent

Alex Chen was robbed of a on screen booty call from a beanie wearing lesbian with a sexy radio voice or a buff ass Adonis of a man who was Smokey the bear’s regional manager or something

Anyways I’m gonna move on I’m uncomfortable lmao

*im not hating on people who ship Sean with either Finn or Cassidy, I’m not even tagging your ship names- im just stating my personal preferences on my blog

One last thing I did not like about LiS 2 and it was the one thing that kept me from playing it for years

That one scene from episode 4

So at this point Sean Diaz went through the following:

-lost his father, had to abandoned his loved ones, education and home

-was accused of killing a cop

-had to take care of his little brother on his own while on the run, the same brother with telekinesis and none of them know how to control it

-was harassed, beaten then detained by a racist white man

-had to take refuge in an abandoned cabin with little resources

-the dog that they adopted at the gas station eventually gets mauled

-the one time they found solace at their grandparents house they had to leave abruptly cause the police was hot on their trail

-on their way out they can potentially witness the neighbors kid that they befriended get hit by the police car that’s chasing them

-they find shelter at a nomad campground but oh no they get involved with drug trafficking cause they barely have any other options to make money (unfortunately this happens a lot IRL this isnt egregious)

-Sean now has to deal with the trafficking, making sure that Daniel doesn’t get into any trouble with his powers while fake ass giancarlo esposito is breathing down his neck

-and guess what happens next… Daniel gets robbed into pulling a heist on temu gus fring and it goes badly, Sean can potentially lose a love interest/friend in Finn

-Sean gets hurt, Daniel goes so mad that he blows the whole place up; a shard glass flies into Sean’s eye and he ends up losing it

- Sean wakes up from a coma and learns that his brother is missing and he’s about to be taken to jail

- the one thing that consistently brought him joy during this trip was his art and because of the missing eye he can’t even do it the same anymore cause it hurts now

- Sean has to escape the hospital with a hot wired car, little money and has to drive across two states just to get to his brother

-on the way he dreams of his father, he wants him back he wants his old life back but that’s not gonna happen so he has to move forward

Im not listing all this as examples of bad story telling, a lot of these are real life experiences of homeless people. im just painting a picture of the shit that Sean had went through so far

Cause right after the dream sequence, Dontnod didn’t think all that was enough no you had to see Sean get hate crimed by two lifetime movie, sitcom special of the week racists- be made to either sing or suffer a brutal beating

It added nothing to the plot, it didn’t need a choice system either- it’s a hate crime, you’re not asking Joyce for fucking pancakes or eggs n bacon at the whales diner or hosing down Lisa the fckin plant.

This to me went straight to trauma p*rn category, it’s wheelchair Chloe all over again

I hated it then in LiS 1 and I hated now in LiS 2, this is why I don’t dick ride Dontnod that often

They always had this tendency right before the end they single out a particular character and mentally whip them, they become the writing teams punching bag- they think we didn’t get it the first time that this character is going through it, they just hammer it in with the subtlety of a heart attack and I hate it

“Yeah but it’s there to show Sean’s resolve to find Daniel-“

HE ESCAPED FROM THE HOSPITAL AND THE FEDS, HE HOT WIRED A CAR TO DRIVE ACROSS TWO STATES

He’s starving, dehydrated, suffering from chronic pain

That’s enough

Let the character breathe

You ask why not a lot of people wanna play this game and I’m gonna tell you, as much I enjoyed it myself it’s not an easy game to play- it gets brutal, especially right around the end

I’m not against bleakness or extreme conflict, I’m into that but sometimes that doesn’t translate well to any gaming format- especially a choices matter game that’s meant to be replayed

Some people have asinine reasons not to play LiS 2 like it dealing with racism and those people suck, lis had always dealt with progressive themes like calling out objectification, cyberbullying and sl*tshaming

Racism shouldn’t be the exemption

but misuse of racial trauma and not knowing when it’s appropriate to invoke it is a huge turn off and hella triggering to a lot of non white players and I remember when LiS 2 dropped I’ve seen (mostly white) lis fans at the time proclaiming that not wanting to play it meant that you were racist

Like I said there were probably racists who didn’t wanna touch the games cause of the main characters skin but there were people like me who were apprehensive of the “Let’s go to the mosh pit Shaka brah” people handling racism

This is the same studio that had Ms Grant (one of the few black characters from LiS 1) claim that the white settlers peacefully shared the stolen land with the native Americans

I find that shit harder to believe than the time traveling powers

And they were doing alright in the first episodes they covered stuff like unconscious biases slipping through, dog whistles, polite racism from the grandparents segment, police brutality, racial profiling and being targeted/othered- some of these things I went through when I visited western countries

Then they did the bullshit I feared theyd do…

I really don’t blame myself for being hyper vigilant at the time and honestly I was going through a lot then, even if I wanted to I wouldn’t have touched LiS 2 cause it’s a very heavy tasking game to play

I know I kinda made it seem like I didn’t like this game but I did, its the best one in terms of the choice system

It had more weight to it, seeing Daniel internalizing what you say to him or how you act around him was so cool

Also what the second game has over the first one aside from the choices system is the ending selection- I never liked picking the endings for max, I wanted her to pick the ending or her coding/script to do that

Its definitely more fleshed out technically even though LiS 1 has a special place in my heart it’s always gonna be no. 1- but im also glad that I got to experience the 2nd game for the first time, I liked it

Personal lis ranking

1: Lis 1

2: Lis 2

3: True colors

Discount bin: BtS

My personal fave moments from LiS 2:

- beating up the racist bully and giving him a concussion

-mushroom (rip icon)

- victorias letter

-winning that that bear from that claw machine

-gorillaz song that was not feel good inc

-Brody pointing at a fucked up looking arcadia bay yelling “that’s the past!”- that was hilarious

-Sean paying tribute to Arcadia bay in his sketchbook (this fucking kid man, he’s so sweet he deserves the world- what did he do to make DONTNOD mad at him)

- the wolf animation and the story that plays before every chapter

-this was the worst hate crime in the whole game

[daisyofwaterdeep]

write something for ketheric or raphael and i will pledge an oath of devotion to you—

(unless you make raphael a sex god;; that man cannot fuck!!)

why not both????? (sorta lol)

'Stolen Pleasures'

Raphael x cis female Reader

Content: NSFW, dubcon, blackmailing, painful sex

~

The shadow curse is lifting with every moment. The oppression of the darkness is slowly draining away, making every breath easier than the last. You should be happy.

So why are you here, body in the chill of the river, thinking about Ketheric? You replay the words you shared with him at the top of Moonrise. How lost he seemed. How he was ready to surrender. And then there, in the colony, how his despair had taken him. That voice of his, commanding yet softened with age. Desperate, calling out to his daughter.

Your flickering moonlantern is on the bank, spilling yellow light that shakes and shimmers across the moving water. You watch the shifting light and think about how it's similar to Ketheric. A phantom, intent on it's duty, no matter how the forces around it try to drag it away. But in the end, it provides no warmth--it's just a reflection of the real thing.

You wonder if Ketheric could have been saved in different circumstances. Was his story truly destined for tragedy? Was his life set to end in heartache, the moment he gave himself to Myrkul?

Despite the damage done to the lands, to the people he loved...you find your heart going out to him. A man so consumed by grief, by love, that he gave up everything. Despite everything, you can see the great man that he once was-- a phantom within a reflection.

What if a kiss could have saved him, like a fairytale?

You're tired from the battle and only barely running on the last dregs of your adrenaline. You blame that on your odd thoughts.

A kiss....what if you had kissed him? Held his sorrowful frame against your own, told him that it was all okay, that you could save him?

You sink down into the water, looking towards the glow of the campfire a dozen yards away. You can just make out the outline of a set of horns silhouetted by the light. It seems that Wyll is taking the first watch. It's unlikely that a gentleman such as himself would look this way...

Your hands run across your stomach, venturing up to the weight of your breasts, suspended in the water. Your nipples are hard and aching from the cold, and your water-chilled hands offer no relief.

You imagine the soft rumble of Ketheric's voice as you fondle yourself, the way it would sound if he dropped it low, perhaps to say something sweet to you. And those hands, ravaged by time yet still so strong, so sure. How would they feel against your skin--not to hurt, but to seek refuge?

You close your eyes and inhale sharply as your hands go down, past your navel, then through your pubic hair.

"Ketheric..."

You say the name as quietly as possible, barely audible even to yourself over the soft rush of the water, yet you still shiver with it.

"Ahh, I see."

The voice comes from right behind you, dangerously close to your ear, and you yelp and whip around, already knowing full well who you'll see.

Raphael smiles at you, lidded eyes appearing black in the flickering light of the lantern. He's bare-chested, the dark waters cutting him right at the waist.

"I was wondering what such a delicate thing was doing out here by herself...I had my suspicions, of course, but who could have predicted--"

"What are you doing here, devil?" You cut him off with a bark, feet already edging closer to the bank, knowing your dagger is tucked beneath the pile of your discarded clothes.

Raphael only continues to smile, picking up his sentence as if you hadn't interrupted him "--that you were thinking of the General?"

You fluster and flounder, unable to deny his words. He seems delighted by your face, giving a dark chuckle as he wades his hands across the surface of the water.

"Oh my, how scandalous." He draws the word out with a sultry hiss as he steps forward, easily closing the gap between the two of you. "Do you pleasure yourself to all of you fallen enemies, I wonder?"

"I'll scream."

"Oh come now, don't go and do something so boring." Raphael puts his hands up, showing that he's defenseless, even if you know that to be far from the case. "I have a proposition for you."

You shake your head. "I don't make deals with devils."

Raphael seems undeterred by your refusal, hands still up, palms facing you. "No, nothing so formal as a deal. There won't be any contracts or souls on the line. Consider it more of a... beneficial agreement. A one night soiree." The drawl of his voice pairs so well with the trickling of the water around you, the warmth and weight of it in perfect contrast with the cool river. "I won't say so much as a word to your companions. They won't even know I appeared before you tonight." He rolls his wrists in a practiced flourish, his hands now outstretched to you. "And I won't say a thing about the name that tumbled from your pretty mouth."

"You're blackmailing me?" A mixture of shock and the cold makes your disbelieving laugh come out in a harsh cough, "To what end? What do you you ask in return?"

"Oh, nothing too extravagant, I assure you." Raphael draws closer, close enough that you can feel the fiendish heat radiating from his body, a sinful reprieve in the chill of the night. The lantern's light cast yellow against his long lashes and reflects in the darkness of his eyes, as if a glimpse of the hellfire within him. "All I ask...is to take you."

"Where?" You say, attempting not to cower as he glides even closer, forcing you to crane your head up to maintain eye contact.

"Oh, little mouse." It's as if the luxurious rumble of his words are cast straight through your body. You can smell him now, sweet hints of cherry, yet the underlying heat of burn, of ash. "Surely you aren't so innocent, considering the display I just witnessed." He leans down close, grin never fading from those smug lips of his, his words as thick and sweet as honey, "Let me take you as a man takes a woman. Right here."

You're not sure what to say. What is there to say in such a situation? You look at him, his deep dark eyes and heavied lids and the hook of his nose that draws a long shadow across his high cheek. He knows that his looks are beguiling, and he knows that you're in no place to refuse.

"You truly are a devil." You breathe out just as his chest meets yours, his skin far too hot and warming yours immediately on contact.

He chuckles again, and this time you can feel it, the echo of it against your ribs. "I never claimed to be anything but."

It should come as no surprise that he's also nude in the dark waters, but it doesn't lessen the shock of his hard cock meeting your thigh. It's hot, impossibly so, and as he moves it between your thighs, all you can do is place a wet hand on his shoulder to ready yourself for it's intrusion.

"Not even going to put up a fight?" He mocks, ducking his head down so that his lips hover over yours. "I didn't take you to be so docile."

"Shut up and fuck me, if you're going to."

"Of course." Raphael arm dips into the river and a moment later you feel a hand on the back of your thigh, lifting your leg so that your knee comes up from under the water. You gasp at the cold that rushes between your legs and vulnerability of the position, and Raphael responds with a smirk. "As you wish."

Raphael's other hand disappears in the water in front of himself, and his cock drags against your thigh as he guides himself to your entrance. As soon as the maddening heat of his cock head touches the softness of your folds, he jerks his hips forward, the water caught between the two of you sloshing as he breaches you with no warning.

You yelp in suprise and pain, both hands scrambling against Raphael's bare shoulders as you almost lose your footing. Raphael lets out a sound of his own, a low, languid groan of satisfaction that warms your cheeks as he stutters his hips forward again, forcing another few inches into you.

"Ohhh, my pretty little mouse," He cups the back of your head with a surprising strength, forcing your eyes to meet his. "How tight you are..." The heat of his cock retreats before he thrusts back in to the same point, his top lip raising to show the perfect white of his neat teeth, "Is it the cold that makes you so? Or are you perhaps scared?"

He doesn't wait for an answer. the pleasure-snarl on his face intensifies as he sets into a brutal rhythm, his dark eyes commanding your attention all the while.

It hurts. The hungry pace he's set and the running water between you quickly carries away any of your natural lubricants and you can feel your walls clinging to him, not allowing much movement. Luckily, he doesn't seem interested in bottoming out in you-- Raphael seems more than pleased to stroke the first few inches of himself with your chafing passage.

The only relief you get is in the form of his warmth, but even that is becoming close to unbearable. With every decadent moan he shamelessly lets loose, his body seems to grow hotter, almost searing. Your vision blurs as fine steam rises from his body, beads of sweat dampening your hair and trailing down your forehead just from his proximity. The heat between your legs is nearly stinging--thank the gods for the cold of the water rushing past, elst you'd truly get burned.

The same can't be said for your abused cunt-- even if river water is pushed inside of you with his humping, the heat of his cock is like molten metal, the feeling only aggravated by the dry, clinging friction of his lubricantless fucking.

"R-Raphae-- ahh--!" You want to tell him to stop, to just give you a moment, anything, but your pain and pride won't let the words come out.

"Yes," He hisses, grabbing your hair and pulling your head back to expose your neck to him, "Cry my name out--" A particularly rough thrust has you biting back a shout of pain as he groans out in delight, "You love it, don't you? The feeling of my cock--"

You aren't sure if his words stem from the cruelty of devils or his lack of understanding of mortal bodies. Each stab of his prick into you stings like hellfire, his shallow impalements growing faster as his moans dip into deep rumbles, coming more and more frequently, shaking on each breath. You consider reaching a hand down to rub at your clit, desiring anything to get your mind off the throbbing pain inside of you, but his vicious movements don't allow your hands to leave his shoulders.

But just as you fear you're at your threshold of pain tolerance, he stills mercifully. A deep, throaty groan tears from him as he leans his head back and his eyes roll closed, a decadent display of his pleasured pinnacle. You can feel heat flood inside you, far hotter than possible from a man. Though it stings against your sensitive walls, it also provides enough slickness for his cock to finally slip out of you.

"Oh," Raphael releases your leg and only then opens his eyes, looking smugly at you with nary a hair out of place. "What a treat that was."

You can feel the heat from your insides seeping between your thighs before being swept away by the current. Judging by just how much your pussy aches, you'd guess that some of your blood is mixed with his seed. The relief from the onslaught is enough to have you light-headed and unsteady on your feet, a fact that Raphael seems to willfully ignore.

"I'd be happy to stay for some pillow talk, but unfortunately, duty calls." He flourishes his hand as he bows his head, dark eyes glittering in the gloom of the night, never leaving you. "But don't fret, little mouse. Baldur's Gate looms just ahead...I'm sure we'll be seeing each other very soon."

There's a pulse of magic, a sucking of air, a bright burst of swirling flame, and then a fade into darkness. All at once, you're alone once again.

You sink down into the water, letting the cold river act as a salve on your pained body and mind.

[eustassslut]

🌈~

Hi c': I saw that your requests were open! I was wondering if it's possible to request a Luffy, Law, Kid, and Zoro(separately)(if you can't add Zoro, that's fine!) with a s/o that's basically deemed a Nobody? They have no devil fruit, no special Haki skills or some super power hidden gift. The most they can do is doodle every now and then and that's it.

The main prompt is basically their "Nobody" s/o doodles their boyfriend(s) in their spare time, and gifts them the drawings c': They know that it may not do much, but their love language is showering them in drawn sketches of them(almost like a little kid aha)

Luffy is the biggest hype-man and supporter of any hobby you might have.

He regularly asks the other Strawhats for advice on what art supplies to buy you with his left over money.

He also keeps every sketch you've ever given him in a special box that he asked Usopp to make him so they're kept dafe. Will ask you to paint on the box so its extra special.

If you ever showed him any new sketches or doodles you've done, he'll beg you to let him keep them as well.

Whenever you draw him, he gets really happy and becomes even more hyper than normal. He'll be desperate shows everyone on the crew the doodles you've made of him.

Wants you to draw him doing literally everything, from going to the toilet and holding a bug to him as a bug and eating meat.

Repeatedly makes you promise you'll draw him reaching Laughtale and becoming King of the Pirates.

Luffy also boasts to everyone who will listen about you and randomly starts up conversations with strangers or his allies about you and your art supplies.

Frames everything...or he tries to before Nami tells him they have no space to store it all.

Carries some of drawings and doodles you've done of him everywhere so he can show off if he has a chance, he'll be fighting an old enemy and will pause to ask if they want to see something cool.

You have a fan in Crocodile now though who is quite invested in your art journey; but you're not sure if that's because of the rumours he's your boyfriend's parent or if it’s because the older man just enjoys art.

But if anyone was to interrupt or insult you by calling you a nobody or implying he deserves better, he'd go completely feral and has to be pulled away by you so he doesn't try to fight them.

Strong believer in earning the right to have dreams and earn a reputation for your skills so he doesn't really care if you're seen as a nobody (he still hates hearing it said to you or him though) because he used to be one as well when he started his journey.

Luffy is nothing but your biggest fan and he hopes everyone will one day see the same value and talent he sees in you.

Law acts like nothing you do effects him and that you don't get under his skin, but it's always obvious upon looking closely at him just how flustered he gets each time you hand him one of your drawings.

Will just say "thank you, it's lovely" or "thank you, you're so talented my love" and give you a kiss before putting it in his desk draw, showing he appreciates it but not on the same scale as Luffy or Kid.

However, you will later find your drawings pinned to his fridge or tucked away in medical textbooks as Law uses them for motivation to work hard so he can impress you in return.

Law struggles a little bit to show love for you, having lost so many loves ones so young but he tries his best to show through his actions that he thinks you're talented and that he really appreciates being given anything you do.

Gets drunk on one occasion and cries to you about how he's scared he'll forget what his family looked like overtime, then cries harder when you ask him to describe them so you can draw them for him.

Keeps the sketches of his family and Corazon on his desk, next to a drawing of you and him since he wants everyone he loves to be together in one place.

Very much a man who uses his actions to prove he loves you and sees your talent. He'll clear out some of his medical books for any books on art he can find and always makes sure he cares a sketchbook and materials for you in case you want to draw.

At the end of the day Law loves you for you, he doesn't care if you have no devil fruit or if you're perceived as a 'nobody'. He probably even prefers that you prefer quietly sitting nearby or on the Polar Tang because it means he always knows you're safe.

He's not like Luffy though and he will not try to fight anyone if they called you one to his face but he would threaten them and reassure you in private that you're not a nobody, instead you're the most important person in his life to him.

The king of insanely loud cringe worthy support and also gift giving back to support your hobby.

When you first show you like to draw, Kid would clear out some space in his workshop so you can have your own studio to quietly draw if need.

He sees quality time together as very important so he wants to quietly sit and do your respective hobbies together; pausing to show each other what you're both doing and exchange compliments.

Will try to copy any doodles you do and make metalwork versions out of them. Definitely makes you a necklace with a metal copy of a doodle you drew of you and him kissing.

Encourages you to paint on his bedroom walls if you want to and also to draw on tables.

Insists you sign all of your sketches and doodles so they're official.

Claims he needs to make sure he has the biggest art collection so that when you become famous he will be extra rich and he can add art collector to his long list of achievements (aka his crimes).

Definitely calls you the worst nicknames you've ever heard in your life, like his gorgeous talented artistic boopsie bear and the ball wrangler of all art. Genuinely means them as compliments to uplift you as well.

Loves giving you excuses to draw so he gives you awful prompts out of the blue and a time limit.

Kid will ask you to draw his crew so he can always have proof they sailed together and keeps those drawings in his bedroom.

Will try to frame everything he can like Luffy would, but he does have limits and eventually just invests in a big set of drawers designed for storing art.

Refuses to steal art supplies because he believes in supporting artists so he makes sure to take you art supply shopping and then leaves tips.

Casually has a very good reputation now in the art world and they all really admire you for winning him over with your art.

But thoughts and prayers for anyone who ever calls you a nobody, they're about to get beaten up almost to the brink of death. It's a bold decision to say anything about you in front of him.

Kid doesn't care if you're seen as weak or powerless and art is seen as the only thing you have going for you. He likes being able to keep you safe and protect you but recognising you're not strong (especially compared to him since he's literally a beast) is very different to seeing you as a nobody.

Zoro is probably such a mess when it comes to supporting your hobby but he's trying his best for you and at the end of the day you know he sees you as the most important person in his life.

I feel like the first time you draw something and give it to him, its a doodle of Chopper and him on a napkin at dinner and when you sheepishly give it to him as a way of showing your affection he'd accidentally use it.

Just so oblivious that he does not realise why everyone at the table is staring at him in horror and you look like you might laugh or cry. Eventually looks down and apologises so much when he notices, claiming the stains on it make it even more special because it adds to value??

Does not understand art at all.

Zoro can tell that you're talented though and recognises your passion so he tries his best to support you with verbal praises and his actions.

However, he's so emotionally constipated its insane; literally does not how to express his affection for you without either being a sassy little bitch or just coming across insane.

Like you could mention you like roses and he'll come back the next time you dock with a full rose bush he's torn out of someone's garden by its roots, but then say you can throw it away if you want. He's just a weird feral man.

He'd probably learn how to make paper so you could have drawing materials (he also has no money so he has to adapt to the obstacles ahead).

Commissions you to draw several new horrific wanted poster versions of Sanji to torment the blonde with. Sanji can't get mad at you though because he thinks you're talented and likes that you get to practise.

Is very similar to Kid and likes when you sit in the lookout nest and quietly draw whilst he trains beside you. He does pose a little because he knows sometimes you like to draw him and he wants you to get his best angles.

Tries to call you talented every time he talks about you or talks to you. Zoro is very verbal about how incredible you are.

Will not tolerate anyone calling you a nobody (he will beat them up if you want him too) and it hurts him the most if you call yourself one because he knows what its like to feel inferior to those stronger.

You don't need to fight anyways since you have him but if you want to learn he'll teach you in exchange for more horrific Sanji doodles.

Your talent is more then enough to eventually earn a reputation anyways so who cares if you can't fight or you're weaker.

King of pep talks and reminds you constantly you don't have to be strong to be important, you just need to believe in yourself.

No matter what he's always in your corner and supports you in his own silly weird ways.

buy me a coffee | ao3 | tiktok

[gatoburr0]

Splatoon AU with Deep Cut except their band name actually fits their songs (because metal)

[luyo-mi]

Them

[yourlocalabomination]

The Lang brothers really said: “The Cosmic God of Time and Space, a Eldritch Horror who is fuelled by tormenting people - a being capable of driving his lessers into insanity within seconds and able to trap them into a torturous eternity………is a furry”.

And as iconic as that is….huh?

[unexpectedbrickattack]

heehee (pepstavo under the cut)

[peanutseagle]

Could you draw Loid in #109 "If It Feels Good"?

Due to colour-paletty circumstances i gave him pink hair. Enjoy

[olivewormz]

ELLO!!!! GUESS WHO REDID HIS METAL SLUG DESIGNS!!!! i guess you could call it that uuhm

but YEA!! i've been thinking a lot about metal slug lately and i just... couldnt resist redrawing my versions, hopefully i do more in the future for more characters n all, i really want to post more metal slug stuff, i love LOVE these silly guys

im not writing anything at the moment cause i really didnt change my headcanons and im kind of tired to write proper paragraphs (i should stop staying up until 3 am to finish drawings? maybe).

[seagull-scribbles]

what if they where T4T?! What then?

[disposal-blueeee]

doodlesssss

scriabin belongs to zarla-s

edgar belongs to jhonen vasquez

[m0e-ru]

❝ それじゃあまるで 、僕がみんなに危害を加えたみたいだおよね ❞

↳ Persona 4 the Evolution / Special Feature (2012)

間宮 祥太朗 SHOTARO MAMIYA as MOEL石油 GAS STATION ATTENDANT & IZANAMI

bonus ↴