#originalauthor

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➺Pairings: vulnerable dom ! dean x fem ! reader

➺Summary: You and Dean had been fooling around for a while now- no strings attached- but tonight was different. You could feel it… And you need him to know how much he means to you.

➺Word Count: 1.013k.

➺Warnings: 18+, smut, aftercare, heavy dirty talking, pain kink, slight degradation, dom!dean, mindless fucking, broken sub, sadismxmasochism, fingering, unprotected p in v, breeding kink, breath play, slight corruption kink, biting.

⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔ ꒰ ᧔ෆ᧓ ꒱ ⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔⏔ Dean’s chest is pressing against your side in the darkness of a shitty motel, warning you to be quiet as he rubs his fingers frantically against your clit, but you can’t help it. The next thing you know, he’s wrapping his hand around your mouth, and it works, but only for a second, then you're right back to whimpering against his palm.

“You just don’t know when to shut the fuck up, do you?”

He growls, before pinching your nostrils between his thumb and pointer finger, still covering your mouth. Your eyes go wide when you realize you can’t breathe at all as he continues to rub your clit. You try to gasp, but there’s no air.

Finally, he lets go and you gasp loudly, sucking in a deep breath and without giving you a second to calm down, he forces the full length of his cock inside you and your mouth gapes but no sound comes out, just hot tears that stream down your cheeks from the stinging and burning of being stretched and you feel Dean grab a hold of your jaw with so much force you were sure there’d be a bruise.

You hear Dean growl from behind as he snaps his hips forward, and all you can do is whimper and claw at the sheets beneath you. “Am i hurting you?” His voice laced with hunger and slight pleading, like he hoped he was. Fucking sadist.

All you could manage was a weak and strangled “yes.” He could tell now by your voice that you were crying, and you swore you felt his cock throb inside of you.

“Say it. Tell me, baby,” he demanded.

You cried out.

“You’re hurting me, it hurts so fucking good!”

And that was all he needed. It was like a switch flipped, a sadistic switch, and you would’ve given anything to see the darkness take over his eyes in that moment “God!-“ Dean practically screamed before fucking into you the hardest and fastest he ever has.

His hand was still holding your jaw, only harder this time as he forced your head backwards, bending your neck so now his lips were resting against your cheekbone.

“I’ve heard whores speak with more modesty than you.” He grunted, his tongue sharp.

You moaned immediately, his words burning straight into your core, your back arching, desperate to have all of him. Every. fucking. Inch.

He looked down and noticed just how badly your body craved him. With your faces pushed together, you could feel his sloppy grin form, and that only turned you on more.

His free hand came down, and his fingers hooked into your hip, pushing and pulling you back onto him, using your body to help get both of you off.

“But no…” He continued talking. “You want it to hurt, don’t you? You want all of me, the worst parts of me. You need me.”

And just like that… you were fucking gone. He knew exactly how to get what he wanted out of you because after that, nothing mattered at all, and you’d do anything to prove how right he was.

“God- yes, Dean!!” You screamed at the top of your lungs, almost scaring him, but he just reveled in it, groaning and biting your skin, like he was begging you to keep going. And you did.

“I love when you split me open, right up the middle!” You squeezed your eyes shut as tight as possible, imagining Dean’s face behind you and how his body must look as he’s tearing you apart. His abs and biceps full flexed and covered in sweat. Both of you were.

“I want all you, the worst parts of you. All the time. Forever, Dean.” You continued, words just spewing out of you at this point, not caring how desperate and feral you sounded or if it made any sense at all.

You hear Dean’s moans, his hot breath fanning your ear and neck. They weren’t even moans at this point; they were more like broken cries and raspy whimpers. Still masculine but strangled and desperate all the same. He wasn’t even trying to control the pitch anymore. He didn’t care.

This was all of him, and he was giving it to you.

“I need you always- always, Dean!” You professed to him, giving him your whole heart, and in return, you got the most gorgeous, guttural moan from the back of his throat. He was making noises for you that he had never made for anyone else.

“Fuck, (y/n).” Dean moaned. You couldn’t take it anymore, and you could tell the coil in his stomach was about to explode, too.

“I need it, Dean. I need you so bad. Please cum in me! Cum in me, Dean!! Please cum in me!” You rambled on and on, no control over what was coming from your mouth anymore.

You had never seen yourself like this, nor had Dean. He broke you. You knew it. He knew it. You both did. And in that moment, each of you let out frantic cries of your own as Dean’s hips snapped forward for a few more thrusts, his fingers digging into your skin as your hand grasped his wrist that was holding your hip still while he ever so slightly rocked his hips into yours, both of you riding out the best orgasms you’ve ever had. The highest you’ve ever felt.

With teary eyes, you managed to roll over once he had pulled out to notice his half-hooded and teary green eyes too. The sight could’ve melted your heart right then and there. In an instant, he wrapped his arms around you and pressed his lips to the top of your head.

Grave Digger: Part 2 By: J. Elias Epp Illustration by: Bjarke (I don’t own any rights to the picture and am only using it for my hobby writing purposes)

The evergreens above his head creak with a coating of ice. Their branches rattle against each other. The gray of morning has come. He wakes, stiff as frost. He stirs and snow falls off him. The fire is only embers from the night. A wisp of smoke trails into the air. With clumsy-cold fingers he stokes the fire back to life. He warms himself, then takes a drink of water, careful not to bruise the remaining flowers. He tucks the water skin into his cloak, near his heart to keep the water from freezing and the flower petals soft. Morning lights the sky into a dull gray. He lingers by the fire, the only warmth for many miles around. Jarl fled the ruins of his city He took the wealth he pillaged from the dead He loads the donkey with his plunder and only then begins to leave. He pushes himself through the thicket and travels the forested valley floor. He sweats as he pushes his way through snow drifts. He pauses and rests, careful not to work too much. The trees block any breeze that would otherwise reach him. His warmth reminds him of his top cloak. Without it he would have frozen, yet he is warm now. The woman who lent it to him, is she warm? Or is the cold gripping her heart in its stony fist? He left his family’s rubble-buried bones Their bodies found no peace upon burning pyres Half the day passes before he climbs out of the valley into the Slow Highlands. The still form of a giant’s skeleton faces away from him, midstride. It faces the way he is going. Gentle mountains ring a frozen lake. The pine trees give the only green the land grows. The lake mirrors the sky. White and slate grays. Its smooth surface is like the work of giants, not of nature. He looks behind him, before him and to the sides. There is only the slate grey of sky blowing from a sliver of blue on the horizon. The air is calm even in the open. The shortest way back is across the lake; a thin separation between life and death. If winds don’t freeze him, the waters will. He escaped that day of disaster But another pursued him, slowly overtook him

His hand presses gently over his heart where the flowers are. The frigid air bites at his chapped hands. He feels the roughness of her cloak under his hand. A small breeze comes and goes, making him shiver. He sets off across the frozen lake. The giant is stopped mid-stride, as if time itself became its enemy. The landscape passes slowly by. The day passes by. The lake does not. The man and donkey walk over its expanse yet never reach its end. The giant’s still form stays upon their left. A daze falls upon the man. His body feels like lead. The lake is an endless horizon. The sun sets a cold pink-red, rimmed by purple-tinged gray clouds. Still he walks, his mind as blank as the slate boards below and above him. The curse followed him It corrupted the paths and the wealth he carried A breeze picks up. The clouds set with the sun. The sky’s chill gray is replaced with a pale blue moon and cold stars. The glaze over his eyes clears and he blinks. He looks about him as if just waking. The patterns of ice, snow and rock glow the same as the surface of the moon. The shadows of the trees are as deep as the sky’s black voids. He frowns at the world around him. He is still crossing the lake. The sky is dark when it should be light. A wolf howls far behind him. The donkey jerks on his rope, nervous. He turns, slowly, as his danger dawns upon him. There, far across the lake, black shapes moving. His flight was slowed He heard his enemy’s horns and knew his end He runs. The donkey senses the fear and runs ahead of him, pulling him along. He slips and falls, catches himself with the donkey’s rope and pulls himself back up. Another howl, closer. The donkey veers towards the trees on the shore. The thumps of hooves and feet echoes in the lake like drums. The ice groans. Howls. Scratching claws close behind.

#loneinteger

Nudity and sexual interactions of @elitenetflixsource bound; become only North American modality.

By that I mean to say: very reclusive inclusive and of PG origin, because I know that would be ratings heavy

Rule 1: we respectfully like @obx make a geological heritage look up after Gabriel(me) sees his destiny on a google search when he he’s scouted to attend Elite Academy, from the Vixen family he participated in

Rule 2: to have me set forth to be a lead man in my own movie and add and focus on writing Angelo’s characters for part TWO seen after the first, is the venture to be unhinged and prolonged the Playa Esmeralda working forward within domination of finally finding out a place you hadn’t known but finally know its location and that it is indeed real.

More over Angelo affiliated within affluent brands that he’s supported in real life he comers into Elite beef top Influencer; who attracts a lot of attention but notices the poetic prowess of the wallflower Gabriel, whom shows him and motivates him in secret at first; more frontal second showing him in poised aperatures building a secret vision scape with him as his lover whom he chooses in mystery and tentaciones of other kisses that show to him Gabriel is vulnerable and needs safety; upon seeing this and the new technology of AI-decoders he starts to from his FBI family BG (backstory made up) he has access to this and then pushes him to inform him he’s actually of a hidden stem of royalty of said Spain.

Why he decided in secret to come to Spain to as a normal nobleman. But altogether ready to project his imagination with someone who he had wanted since the age of 5/6.

Furthermore keys are what he interests him; so due to this he collects and becomes wealthy from the tokenization offers from black rock as a new form of currency to rid Carla of her corrupt fathers hold he has over the school and his city. Enabling Carla to befriend Gabriel and be his wing woman to get Angelo but Patrick insensitively blocks their attempt and tries to steal him, to which in sort the shorter in height privilege kids come together and take control of the party at Playa Esmeralda,

(giving courage to those other feel short or not enough for A,B, C or D reason to stand up to bullies)

For further analysis later

Image provided below is the space intrepid light beam ship that allows us from not travel through space but within its curves within the time scope to entangle age and identification attributes to all time one time without gaps and or spaces left missed like interstellar\\|//new tech|.

https://x.com/dvidballen

everyone is poised and attentive to hear what you have to say next

instead of a story about love or war, how about a sombre attempt at an account with a happy ending, love wins type situation.

one where the main character, ages and in facets becomes the master of himself.

where he triumphs and no more disruption in all matter related, is in balance. when the ether opens up and we are stable.