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artemisiasmuse · 4 months ago

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rafe cameron x sweet virgin!reader

she told you she celibate but she told me I can nail her shit

cw: mdni 18+, virgin!reader but has some other experience, lowkey a freak tho, toxic rafe, corruption kink : >, size kink, first times, rafe goes a lil crazy, sweetie pie reader x insane yandere bf rafe is lowkey my favorite trope

~ 6k words

a/n: happy valentine’s day my loves <3 i didn’t read this over and i’m so sorry if there’s hella mistakes i will fix it later! this may or not be self-insert yes even that part

the trouble all began with sarah cameron and her big mouth. well really both of you were to blame, but you’d think she would be quieter when her older brother was lurking around. you were older than her by a few years, closer to his age than hers, not that it mattered though, rafe treated you like you were practically wheezie’s age. you didn’t let it sting you any more you had long gotten over trying to be seen as a woman in rafe cameron’s eyes. or maybe you just stopped watching him, he’s always noticed you but you felt out reach, until now. when he overhears his sister’s words he almost breaks the glass of water he’s holding.

“a virgin at 19 looking like you do is insane�� sarah looked you up and down as you tried on the dress you’d bought together at the mall. you got shy at her words, you knew she wasn’t judging you but instead genuinely in disbelief that men weren’t throwing themselves at you. you had long mastered the art of looking unapproachable and uninterested after too many bad experiences.

“stoppp is it so hard to believe, you know how bad it’s been for me?” he really hopes no one sees him leaning against the wall next to his sister’s door, he’d look like such a weirdo. wheezie would never let him live this down, she’d barely held back on letting his little crush slip before. if sarah ever found out he’d be in another hell.

“fuck you’re right, if they can’t make you come what’s the point?” rafe winced at his sister’s words, willing away the temptation to gag. he was trying to focus on the fact that no guy had made you come before instead.

“you’re awful, but i’m done with men for a long time. im gonna focus on college and not waste time on them.” he relished in the twisted feeling that no one could touch you, even if the losers before had a chance they clearly couldn’t cut it.

“righttt being in a dorm filled with horny guys is gonna make that easier.” sarah deadpanned and you shoved her, seeing her point. you hadn’t thought about it like that.

“okay leave me alone i’ve been successful so far”

“oh my god speak of the devil, john b’s calling me over, can you cover for me? i’ll be back in like two hours max, promise.” you were a little disappointed she was leaving you but you knew how difficult it was for her to see him without someone covering for her. you nodded and pulled out your phone.

“fine but i’m ordering pizza,” rafe didn’t know if he should be terrified or elated that you two would be home alone for two hours. why did it have to be today that the rest of his family fucked off? was this divine intervention?

“save me a slice!” rafe could hear his sister rustling around, getting ready to go, so he did the same.

“you’re gonna be too busy eating di-“ rafe promptly ran off at that. he’d heard enough, his imagination would run wild with this new information.

it was half an hour later when, like clockwork, rafe made sure to be near the front door for the pizza delivery. he paid and tipped the guy, while you were making your way down at the sound of the doorbell. he hurries back upstairs, nearly running into you on the stairs. your eyes trace his pretty features and then land on the box in his hands, shock and horror cascading your face. rafe can’t believe that you look so good even now, you’re wearing a crop top with seemingly no bra underneath and high waisted sweatpants. to him you look like a model.

“hey! that’s my pizza” rafe laughs and continues up the stairs, you turn on your heel and follow him up. you’re kinda hangry and your pizza being held hostage is not helping your mood.

“i just paid for it so i don’t think so.” you both reach the top of the stairs but rafe isn’t stopping, he’s going to his room instead. this won’t do, he’ll lock the door and slam it in your face, you quickly move to stand in front of him blocking the path to his doorway. rafe thinks it’s cute that you think that would stop him, he feels a bit stir crazy over how small you look gazing up at him

“i’ll pay you back!” your hands shoot up against the doorframe, blocking entry even further. he wants to tease you a bit more but the idea of sharing a pizza in his room is way more tempting.

“nah it’s fine just let me have some.” you release your blockade and let him move past you, still with his-your pizza in his hold, following him mindlessly. if you were less hungry you would’ve realized eating pizza with your longtime crush and best friend’s brother in his room sitting on his bed was in fact not a great idea. but that fleeting concern is out the window when he opens the box and you climb onto his bed like it’s second nature. rafe does his best to stay concentrated on the present, it’s difficult when your shirt rides up and a sliver of your stomach is displayed, it looks so soft and untouched and he really isn’t hungry for pizza, he never was.

“i was gonna offer anyways for the record.” you say it while picking up a slice and rafe mirrors your action, laughing at your tone.

“yeah sure you were princess,” you ignore the way his voice sounds, the way he says your name, the way his room smells like him and it’s making your head spin.

rafe watches you eat transfixed when you lick the tips of your fingers, he can’t believe that he’s struggling to control himself over pizza but your words are ringing in his head.

“rafe do you have any napkins?” you hold up your greasy fingers and he nods his head dazedly, getting up to grab some for you and taking the pizza box off his bed with him. you move to get off then, looking around his room, you knew he wouldn’t appreciate if you snooped through his things so you just look at the pictures on the wall, the books he has. rafe finds you standing near his desk when he comes back, wordlessly handing you the napkins.

“i always forget you have a motorcycle.” your head motions towards the helmet resting on the surface of his desk.

“i don’t use it as much now.” he leaned back against the footboard of his bed, arms crossed against his chest as he watched you look at his stuff. he couldn’t figure out why you were still in his room, were you that curious?

“can i ride it? i’ve always wanted to try.” yeah rafe might just pass out now. you don’t even know what you’re doing to him, head cocked to the side looking at him so innocently he can barely hold back much longer.

“sure but i gotta teach you the basics so you don’t crash.” rafe is proud of himself for even stringing a sentence together in response. you notice a slight flush to his cheeks and ears.

“okay that’s fair.” you turn towards him, mirroring his form and leaning back against his desk. there’s a few feet between you but rafe thinks it would be so easy to lift you onto the mahogany and kiss you until you can’t breathe. his shorts feel so restrictive and he’s grateful he’s wearing black. he can’t hold back any longer, he has to know.

"is it true?" the words come out rushed, unsure of if they should even be said in the first place. but rafe’s not a quitter and he doesn’t shy away from anything really, even if the past few hours feel like a dream he would have in middle school.

"is what true?" your head does that thing again like a puppy and he nearly keels over, you’re too adorable for your own good. his gaze flits away for a second, he has to commit. your trusting expression and your airy tone make it all the more hard.

"no guy's made you come before?" you blink in shock twice before covering your face with your hands. this must be the most embarrassing moment of your life.

"ugh you heard that?"

"yeah you guys aren't exactly quiet" you might have to kill sarah cameron in her sleep, if she even comes back that is. you don’t know why you answer him, you could have just ran away but the magnetic pull of rafe cameron coaxes you to answer.

"yeah it's true" you sound defeated and rafe has to hold back a snicker, he watches you peer through your fingers at him, watching his expression.

"well i can rectify that..you know for the sake of mankind and all" there’s a smirk on his lips as he says the words that will haunt you forever. you’re sure he’s just messing with you and you huff a breath of disbelief. did he know about your little crush? you’d been hiding it so well for the past few years!

"don't tease me, rafe" you step away from his desk, moving to leave his room. even if it was just the two of you in the house you’d much rather sit in sarah’s room or watch the tv than be ridiculed.

"i'm not, it'd be a shame if a pretty girl like you gave up on men, especially for me." it’s almost as if someone dumped a bucket of cold water on your head when rafe cameron speaks. pretty girl the first time he’s called you anything that might suggest you’re not just his sister’s friend. the world spins on its axis and you try to grasp onto his words, try to understand that he might be genuine but you can’t. there’s still that voice of doubt telling you he’s just messing with you. rafe watches your expression go from shock to disappointment, you don’t believe him. he supposes it’s not that believable when he’s been purposefully avoiding you for a while. you must think he’s just messing with you, but he’s dead serious. he’ll just have to prove it.

“whatever rafe i don’t have time for your games.” you mumble it and leave his room, slamming the door a bit harder than you intended. the next few hours are torture. rafe cameron planted an insidious weed in your mind and it’s growing exponentially.

of course it’s not the first time you’ve imagined it, you’d often thought about what his long thick fingers would feel like. or how his biceps would feel under your hands if you held onto them for support. you’d fantasized about every part of him, even the tip of his nose. so the idea that it might just be within your reach had you spiraling. you took a cold shower, not that it helped, your underwear was still soaked after. no guy you’d been with had made you so wet, let alone before even touching you. it was as if the universe was testing you. a sick thrum in your body had found its way into your bones, vibrating with need and you paced in your best friend’s room thinking over all the consequences.

when you’d reached the conclusion that even if he was sincere it was still a bad idea, your phone pinged. a text from sarah that read: “i’m gonna be staying the night here, if you’re already asleep i’ll see you in the morning 🤍” with all your internal turmoil you hadn’t realized it was past the two hours she’d said. she would be out all night. you and rafe were home alone, all night. you swallowed down the lump in your throat, your heart pounding your chest. your feet were moving faster than your head, the pitter patter of your footsteps almost as fast as your heartbeat, and before you knew it you were in front of his door. you hesitated for a second breathing in deep once before knocking, the light was still on so you knew he was awake.

“yeah?” rafe did his best to hide the satisfaction he felt seeing you twitchy and shy in front of his door. you swallowed down again, looking up at him with as much confidence as you could. there was a few seconds of silence, he gave you the time you needed, looking down at you with bright inviting eyes.

“is your offer still on the table?” his face split into a grin, moving aside to let you in like you’d done before and with no hesitation you pushed past him. even the small graze of your shoulder against him set his skin ablaze. he was going to lose his mind.

“‘doesn’t really have an expiration date.” your mind was blanking at his every advance, you tried not to think about his words, you couldn’t afford to fall deeper for him.

“just don’t like tell anyone about this?” you murmured, watching him close the door behind you two and getting a bit nervous. if sarah found out you’d be in for hell. losing your virginity to your best friend’s brother wasn’t exactly a great conversation to have.

“i’m not topper don’t worry.” you believed him, rafe despite his other faults, was always respectful.

“can i kiss you?” you nodded fervently, rafe held back a laugh at your enthusiasm. he walked up to you slowly as if giving you the chance to run and slid his hands from his hips to the curve of your waist. you stood on your tiptoes, your arms going around his neck and rafe couldn’t believe this was real. maybe if he pretended it was a dream he wouldn’t be so nervous. he’d have to do just that. one of his hands cupped your face, thumb stroking along your cheekbone and your eyelashes fluttered closed at the touch. he pressed a tentative kiss to your lips.

his lips felt soft and you breathed out in relief after, as if some sort of spell was lifted. rafe kissed you again, this time letting himself breathe you in. you felt so small and delicate in his hold, he wanted to take his time with you. you had other ideas. kissing rafe cameron felt even better than you’d imagined, when he pulled back you surged forward this time, biting his lower lip making him groan into your mouth. another chill of desire wracked your body at the sound and you tested the waters by licking the seem of his lips. rafe pulled you even closer and bent down to kiss you deeper. his mouth opened and his tongue met yours. you tasted so good to him he couldn’t stop himself from sucking on your tongue slightly, making you whine in his hold. the sound flipped a switch in his mind, he wanted more of the sound, he needed to hear you say his name in that airy desperate sound again. a string of saliva connected your lips and snapped off in the middle, your breathing was heavy and his was too. you caught your breath all the while looking up at him, he held your gaze. the furrow of your brows grew deeper the longer you looked.

“we don’t have to do anything else.” him asking for consent again drew in another crushing wave of arousal, you were a lost cause. okay maybe your standards were in hell. even his cologne was better than any other guy, something woodsy and heavy, mature, not like the shitty ones you’d had to smell before.

“no-no i want to,” he’d have to ask you later why you looked so mad after kissing him, right now he had too much else to do. you could only watch as he lifted you by the grip on your waist, your legs going around his hips in fear of falling. he’d done it so casually you couldn’t process it in time. rafe set you down gently on his mattress, his weight pressed into you and your legs tightened around him. he kissed you again, already missing the taste of your lips, and leaned back. you realized what he was about to do as he sat back on his knees.

“no i-can you just come up here?” you felt far too shy for him to eat you out and although rafe respected your wishes he was a bit disappointed. he’d just have to make sure there was a next time. there were other ways to taste you anyways. he followed your lead, leaning back over you and kissing you again, tongue and teeth clashing together in need. one of his hands moved from your waist up and under the hem of your shirt, traveling up slowly until he reached the fat of your breast. the feeling of his fingers on your nipple jolted your body. usually you didn’t get anything out of a guy touching your boobs but him you were arching into his touch, huffing into his mouth. rafe loved how sensitive you were, reacting to every touch of his. he massaged the tit in his hand, reveling in how you squirmed underneath him. if you kept moving you’d feel how painfully hard he was in his shorts.

after giving up on kissing you he peeled off your crop top, trailing kisses down your neck. he bit at the skin and sucked, surely littering your neck with hickies. you smelled so sweet to him and he couldn’t get enough, biting hard in the juncture between your neck and shoulder. you squeaked at the feeling, shocked at how pleasure blurred the lines of the pain you should be feeling. being marked by rafe was transcendental.

“look at you, so fucking pretty.” you met his gaze, his eyes raking down your chest and back to your face. the compliment made your head even cloudier, you’d let him do anything he wanted already, and it didn’t even scare you. his mouth trailed lower, biting at the tops of your breasts before latching onto your nipple and sucking, biting and laving over the sensitive nub with his tongue. you writhed under him, desperate for some friction between your legs. you huffed out a breath in frustration. he took his time bruising your chest with his marks. everyone should know who you belonged to. he leaned back to admire his work, his eyes finally meeting yours and seeing your waterline filled with unshed tears. god he was being so cruel, you just wanted to come and here he was doing as he pleased.

“rafe can i have your fingers please?” he was about to take pity on you anyway but the desperate sound of you begging was too delicious to give up. he looped his fingers through yours, hands intertwined against the silk sheets next to your shoulder.

“fuuckkk when you ask like that how can i say no?” his eyes nearly rolled back in his head from your voice, he might just come from it alone. “how d’ya want them?” he knew, of course he knew, he just wanted to hear you say it. your lips were swollen from his kisses and you still managed to look so innocent under him, he wanted to mark every inch of your body so no one could touch you again.

“you know!” you huffed out, a pout on your lips that he kissed away, you still looked at him with frustration. your underwear was practically sticking to you now, you felt so warm and uncomfortable between your legs, desperate for friction. you’d never felt like this before, completely wrecked with need, unable to think about anything besides addressing your desire.

“spell it out for me, i can’t think clearly right now.” he kissed under your ear coaxing you into submission, a purr curled through you at the feeling. his lips were featherlight against you, soft and adoring and you couldn’t remember why you were holding back.

“‘wan you to fuck me with them.” it was a small mumble, slipping past your lips but rafe caught it nevertheless. his free hand hooked into your pants and pulled them down, you kicked them off and let him settle back between your legs. at least being out of your pants gave your legs some reprieve but the cool air only illuminated how drenched your underwear was. rafe’s large hand skimmed past your breasts to your stomach and rested against your waistband. he looked to you for admission and you nodded your head. instead of dipping underneath the band he trailed downwards, over the flimsy material. the ghost of his touch near your clit had you jerking under him, your hands flying to his shoulders. two large fingers pressed against the fabric, right above your opening, his fingers felt moist and he clicked his tongue at the feeling.

“baby you soaked through your panties, whose got you so worked up?” you whined, a pretty throaty sound that you’d been holding in and he vowed to pull more from you. his fingers were skimming along your opening, teasing the fabric and not quite touching you. your legs wanted to close on his hand but your hips moved closer, trying to make him touch you.

“you!” you screamed out, eyes squeezed shut as he removed his hand completely. you’d start leaking through them if he didn’t do something soon.

“that’s right me, not those fucking losers, just me.” his free hand, closed around your chin making you open your eyes and meet his. he looked crazed, pupils blown and overshadowing the blue with hooded eyes and a satisfied grin curling his lips. when you met his gaze he finally dipped his fingers beneath the band and pressed his thumb against your clit. he found it with such ease your eyes rolled back into your skull, gasping at the feeling of finally being touched. “i got you baby,” your legs spread wider for him, pulling him into you as his fingers slid through your drooling folds all the while his thumb ground against you. his fingers were so much larger than yours you could feel him everywhere. he prodded your hole with his index finger, grunting at how tight you were. streams of arousal kept pouring out of you, you needed him to do something. you squirmed under him again and rafe acquiesced, shoving his finger in. you were so tight and warm around him, slippery and soft walls hugged him as he stretched you out with one finger alone. “f-fucking tight,” he was gonna start soiling his shorts from the way you felt around his finger alone. he fucked you slow and deep, feeling along your insides for your sensitivity. he knew as soon as he found it because you screamed his name, hands clutching his arms tightly.

“feels weird,” he let you get used to the feeling, his thumb grinding against your clit. you were already feeling close and he’d barely started.

“poor pussy probably never felt this good huh?” you whimpered at his words, he was being so filthy and usually it turned you off. nothing about rafe could do that at this point. you shook your head, affirming his suspicions and his middle finger circled your opening. he was gentler this time, moving his fingers in inch by inch until you stopped clamping down. the pressure of him stretching you wasn’t unbearable but you didn’t know how you’d ever take more than his fingers at this rate. he accurately hammered against that spot, out for blood, while his thumb circled your clit. you were dripping onto his hand, coating him with your juices and the squelch of his fingers fucking into you filled the room. the sounds were so obscene you tried blocking them out with your pathetic little whines but rafe was determined to hear your soppy cunt crying for him. it wasn’t long before you felt the encroaching of your release and he knew it he could feel it in the way you clenched around him and whined when his fingers pulled out completely. one more carress of the sensitive gummy spot inside you had you seeing white. your vision blurred as you shook in your release, holding his wrist so he’d stop his motions, shivers wracked your body as you came the hardest you ever had. your walls fluttered around him, more of your release dripping down your cunt and soaking the sheets below. he was sick enough to leave them like that for the night, you smelled so sweet and he bet you tasted even better.

his fingers dipped out of your underwear and your eyes opened to watch him, probably a mistake on your part because just the vision of rafe cameron licking his fingers clean and groaning at the taste made you ready to go again. his eyes rolled back in his head at the taste, his eyes ground shut at the sugary flavor coating his tongue and teeth. he really hoped you’d let him have more later because now that he’d had a taste he wanted the full meal. you shivered at the way he reacted, your whole body on high alert from your orgasm, but even as sensitive as you were you couldn’t help but be greedy.

“rafe, can we go further?” his heart might just give out, you look nervous even now after he’s already addicted. he moves back slightly, pulling his shirt over his head and your eyes are drawn to his chest.

“thought you’d never ask.” you’re not even trying to hide how you ogle him, seeing him at the beach is one thing but in front of you, when you can touch him is another. rafe watches you reach a hand out, slightly out of range and moves closer to you, letting you touch him. your smalls hands traverse the expanse of his shoulders, his pecs, and trace the outline of his abs. when they reach the tuft of hair above his waistband, rafe has to stop you. the tiny fleeting touches make him twitch in his pants. he moves your hand to rest against his shoulder, pulling your underwear all the way off and looking down at how he completely drowns your body out.

“fuckkk can’t believe im the lucky one who gets to break this little pussy in,” he kisses along your neck, hands squeezing your waist and marveling at how diminutive you feel. he can’t wait to be inside you, he wonders if you’ll even be able to take him.

“s-so dirty” his words are heating up your entire body and you’d feel embarrassed if you weren’t arching into him. rafe moves to pull down his shorts, waiting a beat before he does.

“you sure you want this?” while taking your virginity was something he could only dream about before he needed to be sure.

“yes i want it to be you, i trust you.” you say it as normally as you can.

“we can stop whenever you want, like i said ‘offer’s not gonna expire.” you hope you can take it up even after this, maybe not even once or twice. if he could make you feel like this why would you need anyone else? then he pulls his shorts off and you start to regret your decision.

“oh-is th-that gonna fit?” his cock sprung out and slapped against his stomach, long and thick and way too big for you. you could barely take his fingers this would never fit. it looked so angry white precum dribbling down stark against the flushed pink curling along the veins and curving with him to the right. you wouldn’t survive this.

“you’ll do your best right?” you nod enthusiastically, you wanted to take as much as you could. “good girl.” oh, you’d have to explore that later. you nearly moaned at him calling you that. rafe caught it though, he knew your reactions well by now. he lined it up over your stomach, seeing how far it would go and your eyes nearly bulged out of your head. your belly button was completely covered, not that it mattered he was halfway up your torso. rafe’s grip on your waist tightened, he’d ruin you for anyone else, stretch you out and mold you just for him. no one would feel as good as him and he nearly drooled at the sight.

despite how feral he felt, he made sure you were still wet enough for him to slip in, you were. his tip pressed against you, he let you drool onto him, juices swirling with his and making a sick plap plap plap sound as he tapped against you. he’s far wider than his fingers and you tried to relax. you motioned for him to come closer, his lips out of reach and you kissed him sweetly. when he could feel you relax he pushed in, instantly being shoved out. so tight he couldn’t even get the tip in. “fuuckkkk gonna have to marry you.” you don’t even process his words and he doesn’t really know he’s saying them out loud either. he tries again, pulling you slightly onto his length and you gasp at the stretch. you’re gripping him like a vice and it’s nearly uncomfortable but being inside you breaks something inside of him and he’s drooling into your mouth. you don’t even care you want more. “doin well angel-hah-taking me so well.”

the pain is an afterthought now, you want him to stretch you and fill you until you can’t breathe. you don’t know if you’ve wanted anything more in your life. so you do the unthinkable, you try moving down his length. rafe can’t be held responsible for his actions after that.

he gives into your silent plea, skewering you on his cock and pushing past your gooey rings of resistance until he’s halfway in. you held your breath the entire time as he curved into you, tip smearing precum along your walls as he molded you to him, his veins catching on your entrance and making you jolt at the feeling. you push at his chest, the pain making you scream his name as he lets you adjust. there’s tears trailing down your cheek that he licks away. he kisses you until the ache between your legs becomes distant, it’s salty and sloppy but it distracts you enough. rafe makes the mistake of looking down, sees the way you’re gaping for him and how it looks like he’s splitting you in half and he bottoms out. the snap of his hips against yours makes you moan, he’s filled you up now and you can feel him in your throat. you swear you feel him get bigger when you whine his name pathetically, his dick twitching inside you.

it’s too much and you try running from it, shoving up the length of the bed but rafe just pulls you back down. “t-too big hng can’t-“

“come on i thought you were-fuck-a big girl,” he groans into your ear, you shove against him once more and he slips out a few inches, just enough for you to relax. you can still feel him nestled against your cervix, he’s leaking into you and your thighs are coated in both of your arousal. you tap his shoulder for him to move again, pulling out until his tip is the only thing inside and then spearing all the way back in. the feeling makes you cross-eyed, his throbbing tip bumps along your sensitive spot until it nestles against you, as far high up as it can and you think you might be coming on every thrust because you’re so obscenely wet more slick just pours out of you every time. rafe knows it’s because there’s no space for anything but his cock and he can’t help but grin, watching your pussy engulf his length despite how small you are under him. every thrust sends your whole body upwards but his grip on you keeps you close, he’s almost fucking you back onto him.

“feels good hah,” you finally murmur into his neck, wrapping your legs around his hips so he can drill into you better. his thrusts are deep and slow, letting you get used to the feeling but you don’t think you like it like this. if he’s going to ruin you he might as well do it properly. “h-harder.” rafe moans your name at your request, his voice sounds so wrecked you clench down at the sound alone.

“turned this pussy into a slut, ‘couldn’t even take-hah-two fingers now look at you.” really he’s proud of you, proud that he made you like this. although he wants to tease you he can’t hold back much longer either and it’s your first time so he’s gonna be nice to you. rafe pulls out and slams back into you setting a faster rougher pace, your skin is slapping against each other and you think he might bruise your hips. your head is shoved up the length of his bed until it threatens to bump against the headboard, he puts his hand between you and the wood, his other hand holding onto the frame for support. your legs are being bent and pressed to the sides and the new angle makes him hit that spot with blaring accuracy. a sick ring of white forms at the base of his dick and his balls are slippery from your arousal. you still have a vice grip around him, something he won’t get used to but is definitely get addicted to. the room smells filthy and the sounds of you chanting his name combined with the squelch of your cunt is pornographic.

“gonna be a good girl and come around my cock?” your walls flutter at his words, like his permission has you ready to come. you come undone with one more thrust, your cunt is milking him as if coaxing him to come. “fuck fuck fuckkkk.” he pulls out just in time to come onto your stomach, shooting thick gooey ropes onto your soft skin. the white contrasts the blue and purple that is starting to bloom around your neck and tits.

you blearily watch it happen, disappointed he didn’t come inside, but warm and fuzzy from your release. there’s one thought nagging you though as you rest comfortably on his sticky soaked sheets. “it wasn’t a one time offer right?”

“no fucking way, i’m never letting you go.” rafe looks at you like you’re crazy, he’s ready to propose. there’s no way in hell he’s making this a one night stand. after all he’s broken you in, now it’s the fun part.

taglist: @ggraycelynn

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dollfacefantasy · 7 months ago

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SYMPATHY FOR THE DEVIL ♡

pairing: homelander x fem!reader

summary: homelander has taken an interest in you, vought's new intern. no matter how you look at it, as a good or bad thing, it ends the same way: him getting what he wants.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, dubcon, p in v, oral (m receiving), body worship, sir kink, obsessive behavior, manipulation/coercion, age gap (reader in early 20s)

wc: 7.7k (oops lol)

a/n: hehe. never thought i would write for this man but it was pretty fun :) comm for my sweet beloved @gor3-hound love you so very much mwah mwah <33

At the junction of the V-shaped table, Homelander sat. With his back to the skyline and his gloved hands folded in front of him, he held the posture of a statue. Ashley had been rambling on and on and fucking on for the past five minutes about shit he couldn't care less about. Her nasally voice bounced off the tile floors and painted ceiling, ricocheting around him like a rogue bullet. Only his impregnable skin didn't protect him from the discomfort of this situation.

It was moments like these that really made him regret killing Stillwell.

That woman knew how to handle things. As manipulative as she could be, at least she wasn't absolutely insufferable. How could Stan let Ashley replace her? She was a poor excuse of just about everything. Absolutely spineless, unintelligent, reactionary, and opportunistic. He really couldn't picture any person on this Earth genuinely liking her.

However in the midst of his mental complaints, he realized that the annoying sound of her speaking was directed at him. All the other stares in the room were zeroed in on him too. A-Train observed in cautious silence. Noir's goggles reflected Homelander's own image right back at him. Maeve judged with a sideways glance. And Starlight prepared for the worst.

He tore his own bright blue eyes from the door opposite the table and refocused them on Ashley. They scanned over her thinning ginger locks down to her gaudy outfit - a piss poor attempt at imitating power.

"What?" he asked, his voice cutting through the air with a force similar to one of Maeve's swords.

Ashley blinked in return. Fear swirled in her wide eyes. She tried to maintain that empowered appearance she so desperately wished was real, but he could see the innate urge to cower bubbling within her.

"Was that lineup for the funeral ok with you, Homelander? A-Train and Noir open, Starlight sings, and then you close?" she repeated.

Now it was his turn to blink. Like he could actually give a shit about the order of segments for Translucent's funeral. He swallowed hard. While she projected a mirage of power, he had to do the same with level-headedness.

"That's fine, Ashley. Have those two go first, and Starlight can follow up with Amazing Grace or whatever shitty hymns they teach in that hick town she's from, and then I can finish us out," he responded.

He could see how her knuckles were going white around the edge of her clipboard. She gripped it for comfort, as if that could save her from his potential wrath. It only irritated him more. If he wanted her dead, he would turn her to ashes where she stood. How hard she braced herself in advance wouldn't matter in the slightest. But people could be so foolish in moments of terror.

"Well speaking of that," she said before clearing her throat, an attempt at a natural transition, "We were trying to decide what song she would sing. Maybe one of our originals? Or do you think it would be more tasteful to go with something from an outside source?"

Gritting his teeth, he buried the urge to unleash the bright beams of red from his sockets. His hands slid off one another and pressed down onto the cool table.

"Do you really need me to decide what song is going to send Translucent to the grave?" he replied, "I don't care what you play, and no one else attending will either. They'll be focused on working up some tears for the useless dipshit they never had the displeasure of knowing. Instead of trying to gain their approval, we should be working on finding the next member of the Seven who can replace him. There's no use dwelling on the past. We need to be preparing for the future."

He paused to let his words permeate the room, giving everyone a chance to absorb the sentiment and adapt accordingly. With his pupils still trained on Ashley, he planned on continuing his tirade, but his train of thought came to an abrupt halt.

Soft pitter-patters of footsteps clacked down the hall outside this room. They sounded in a delicate rhythm, only audible to him. As they grew louder, he caught the scent of the source too. Airy and light. A stark contrast to the brash perfume Ashley doused herself in.

The doors at the front of the room slid apart to reveal you.

You stood there for a moment. The realization that you'd interrupted something was visible in your eyes. The small spheres cast down as you wobbled in like a fawn that sensed wolves watching from nearby.

Ashley turned to face you, a glower already set on her features. The resentment she held for everyone else in this building awoke from its usual dormant slumber because there was finally someone weaker she could take it out on.

Once you reached her, your hand rose and gave her a thin stack of papers.

"I'm sorry for interrupting. It's a memo from 82. They made it sound urgent," you explained, everything about your temperament meek and timid.

After a brief pause to let you marinate in the few moments before your inevitable humiliation, she snatched the papers from you. Her eyes roamed over the page with disinterest. Even if the information conveyed by the small black letters was important, he doubted she would give it any reaction. She wanted to lash out, and she was going to, whether it was justified or not.

"They couldn't have emailed me this?" she snapped, as if that was something you could control.

"I don't know. I'm sorry. I'll check next time," you offered.

"You better or you'll run out of next times," she threatened, "Incompetence like this won't fly here. You're in the big leagues now, so act like it. Think before you do something instead of taking commands like a lap dog."

"I'm sorry," you replied, ducking your head again.

"Don't be sorry, just do better," she commanded.

"I will," you agreed.

"Good. Just get out of here now. Go pick up my lunch," she told you.

His lips curled into a scowl as he watched the scene play out. It was pathetic - not you, but Ashley. He hated seeing the fucking smirk on her face as you walked away. She had nothing to be smug about. She was nothing more than a feral coyote going after the scraps the other predators didn't take.

To make matters worse, when she returned her attention to the group at the table, she saw the look on his face. She saw the disdain, but instead of striking regret into her, it only deepened her sense of self-satisfaction.

She thought the look was for you. That he was disgusted with your mistake. Annoyed with your intrusion.

He couldn't have that. Not when that assumption was the farthest thing from the truth. Honestly, he didn't know if he was even capable of feeling such ire towards you. Not his precious little fawn.

Rising from his seat, his glare remained on Ashley. She did show a little fear then.

"You know, I don't have all day, Ashley. I'll open Translucent's funeral, Starlight will follow up with a song, and that will be it. A-Train and Noir can have the day off, because let's be honest, nobody will give shit either way," he mocked.

"But, sir-" she said, clearly confused by his sudden impending departure.

"I have more important things to deal with. If you need anything else, I'm sure one of the others can help you," he dismissed.

With that, he stepped back from the table and began heading to the doors. He hoped if he was fast enough he could still catch you. Even in a building as sleek and modern as this one, the elevators could be quite slow.

Walking out into the hall, his head swiveled in the direction you would have gone. For once, his own portrait didn't catch his eye. He didn't even think about stopping by Stillwell's office to reminisce. Instead, he just headed down towards the elevator. His red boots thudded across smooth tile in rapid succession, covering the path you'd just taken.

Finally, after a few feet, he spotted you. Bottom lip pulled between your teeth. Eyes glossy with embarrassment. Tip of your polished shoe tapping against the ground. You startled when his voice boomed across the space, calling out your name. So cute.

You looked at him with fear in your eyes, but disgust didn't fester in the pit of his stomach like it did when others gave him that anxious stare. Another feeling bloomed inside him, one he couldn't really place. It was just that the nervous gleam over your pupils didn't make him hate himself and all the circumstances of his life that put him in his position.

Instead, your wide eyes and pouty lips made him feel strong. You made him feel like a hero. A real one, not the artificial caricature that Vought projected to the world. With you nearby, he felt like the kind of guy who deserved the American flag blowing off his back with a pretty girl cradled in his arms and a dead enemy at his feet. When you gazed up at him, he could only imagine that the pride rushing through his chest and confidence pooling between his hips was the feeling his creators intended for him.

"Did you need something from me, sir?" you asked, reminding him that he actually had to provide a reason to talk to you. Just wanting to stare at you like a psychopath would not suffice unfortunately.

"Oh no," he waved off, "The meeting just finished up. I was heading out too. I saw you, and I realized I haven't really taken the time to get to know you yet, which is unfortunate because I usually like to be familiar with the newer people we have working with us."

A complete lie. Before you, he didn't remember ever giving any of the interns a second glance. They were true nuisances. They were Ashleys.

"Oh... well I'm around whenever you wanna talk. Ashley keeps me busy, but I'm sure I could make an exception for you," you replied.

"You absolutely can make an exception for me," he chuckled, "If Ashley gives you any trouble, just let me know, and I'll make sure she remembers who's really in charge around here."

It wasn't until he heard your heart rate increase that he realized those words probably came off as threatening. Well, they were threatening, but you weren't supposed to see him that way.

"I'm kidding," he forced out with a laugh, "Just joking around like I do... I just don't want you to worry about getting in some kind of trouble for me sniffing around you."

You huffed out an awkward laugh of your own and nodded. "I'll be sure to make some time for you in the future then and let Ashley know it was at your direction."

"Great," he said with probably too much enthusiasm.

His jaw clenched into one of his usual tight smiles. He averted his eyes from you and looked towards the numbers on the elevator. Fuck, it was reaching the bottom. He didn't want to let you go, but it wasn't like he could just stroll down the street with you to go get Ashley's lunch. His mind scrambled to come up with a solution.

But like your earlier intrusion into the meeting, your gentle voice cuts through the hurricane forming in his head.

"Are you alright, sir?" you ask, anxious concern written all over your features.

He refocused on you and nodded. His arm extended out behind you, his palm landing against the elevator wall. As he leaned in, he could smell your adrenaline spiking. He could hear the shift of your shoe against the ground. If only he possessed a sixth sense for the mind, so he could know what little thoughts about him were flitting through your head.

"I'm fine. You don't need to worry about me," he answered. He smiled down at you, observing the slight nod you gave him in return.

"Of course not. It probably seems silly coming from me," you said.

His brows raised in amusement. "What's that supposed to mean?" he asked.

He saw the flash of regret in your eyes. The one people always gave him when he asked a question in that tone. The one that came from the panic of realizing they may have said something that offended Homelander.

You suppressed it pretty well though and brought out a smile that gave the impression that you hoped he was messing with you instead.

"Well you know... because you're you," you said and tilted your head in an innocent way that made his chest ache.

He chuckled that charming, prepackaged laugh that had been trained into him. "Even I can appreciate someone taking an interest in checking on me," he replied.

It was maddening, how bad he wanted you. He wasn't even sure when this craving had sprouted inside him. He had been so preoccupied with his affinity for Stillwell that his fixation with you struck him like a glass window in front of a flying bird. But no matter the timeframe in which it blossomed, it had taken root by now and wasn't going to go away on its own.

When he looked at you like this - staring up at him with earnest fascination - his mind drifted to darker places all on its own. He couldn't stop it if he wanted to (and really, he didn't want to). It's just how was he not supposed to be aware of the fact that it would be all too easy to take you back to his room? How could he not think about what it would feel like to have your fragile body beneath his own in private? How could he not wonder what you'd sound like crying out in a sinful mix of pleasure and pain?

Hell, how was he supposed to pretend like he couldn't just bend you over and fuck you dumb right here in the middle of this elevator if he wanted to? No one would be able to stop him. There wouldn't be a thing they could do other than watch. They could stare in horror as he used you like he deserved, as he pounded into your warm, soft, dripping hole like he needed...

Unfortunately, painting that picture in his head had his blood rushing South. He felt the subtle simmer of desire in his pelvis, and he knew in no time his length would be filling out. This suit gave him no way of hiding it either. Clearly, whoever made it hadn't anticipated the Homelander popping a boner on the job.

But luckily for him, the elevator chimed with its arrival at the bottom floor. He straightened out as you looked ahead in preparation of your departure. But before you could go, he grabbed your arm. His touch was tender, holding the same force he'd use when cradling a baby at a photo-op.

"Maybe later tonight you'd like to take me up on one of those talks? After you're done for the day, you could stop by my place. The sooner the better, right?" he asked.

Your eyes widened ever so slightly, but you still nodded. "Um... sure thing. I'll head up once I've finished all my work. It should be around six if that's ok?" you offered.

"Yeah, that works for me. I'll be waiting," he said in an attempt to be playful.

You smiled once more and then headed out of the elevator. His fingertips dragged down your arm to your wrist as you walked away before you finally slipped from his grasp. He could hear your heart pounding faster than your footsteps as you headed towards the exit of the building.

At six o'clock sharp, a knock sounded through his penthouse. And it only took him a few seconds to swing the door open and greet you.

"There she is," he beamed with exaggerated politeness.

You smiled modestly in return, shrugging and smoothing out a crease in your blouse. "I couldn't let the leader of the seven down," you joked.

He scoffed but opened the door wider, beckoning you into his place. You took the invitation and crossed the threshold. Your eyes glanced around the place, taking note of all the things in the apartment that housed the most powerful man on Earth.

The American flag taking up an entire wall almost stopped you in your tracks. It would've been funny if it was someone else, but because it belonged to him, it stood there like a warning. You tried not to show how daunting you found it. Average people could be touchy about that famous piece of cloth. You didn't want to find out if the strongest supe felt the same through means of offending him.

In place of letting that bother you, you shifted your attention over to all the historical pictures hanging on the walls and the sleek surfaces and drawers filled with things you couldn't begin to imagine. Your eyes casted over the statues accenting the space as well. It was all so very polished. It looked like what you'd expect the Homelander entry in an Ikea catalog to be.

"So what do you think?" he asked. He knew his words came off as stiff. Probably a little stilted sounding. He just couldn't help it. For the first time, he couldn't get a read on how you felt through physical signs alone. And right now, he really really wanted you to like him.

"It's... impressive," you answered.

But he could hear the hesitation in your voice. In each word, there was the same wavering quality to it that you get when Ashley grilled you in front of an audience. It wasn't the precious reverence that he saw in the elevator. The nervous kind of admiration you held for someone above your standing. This was just plain anxiety, and that served no purpose to him.

Despite your trepidation however, you walked forward to the window at the back of the place. You looked out over the city in awe.

"I would love to live somewhere high up like this," you said.

He came up from behind to stand next to you in front of the glass panes. His eyes landed on your face. You stared out the window, wonder twinkling in your eyes. Your voice sounded almost breathless. It was adorable.

"No fear of heights?" he asked.

"Not when it comes to being inside. Maybe I'd be nervous if we were on a balcony or something," you replied.

"Oh come on. You'd have nothing to worry about if you were with me. I'd never let you fall," he said, dropping his voice a few octaves.

You made that cute little face again when those words hit your ears. Your eyes widened before they fell to look at your shoes. So modest, the way you shied away. He wondered if you were always so timid or if it was only when a god amongst men like himself flirted with you.

He chuckled and reached out, tilting your chin back up to look at him. "You don't need to be nervous," he soothed, "There's no safer place to be than with the Homelander, right?"

You nodded right along. His words left no room for objection.

"Good girl," he smirked and dragged a gloved thumb over your cheek. He pulled his hand back and stepped in the direction of the brown leather sectional that sat in the middle of the room.

"Come over here and sit down. We can talk," he directed.

Following him to the large couch, you took your seat near the corner. You assumed he'd sit at the other end or at least towards the middle of the perpendicular cushions, but no. He sat down in the corner with you. His body was at most a foot away.

He continued to smile at you though he didn't speak. It felt odd, sitting there in silence across from him. He wasn't doing anything overtly threatening, yet you still felt at his mercy.

"So, do you like it here so far? Do you feel like you're fitting into the Vought family?" he asked with a bit of an edge to that second word.

You nodded again. A relieved breath seeped from your lungs as the tense void in conversation came to an end. "Yeah, it's nice here. I feel like I'm learning a lot."

He chuckled and leaned back against the stiff backing of the sofa. His muscular arm draped along the top. Though it wasn't his intention to draw your focus there, he caught the way your eyes dragged over his bicep.

"That's good," he said, "It can be a lot when you're new. I wouldn't want you feeling overwhelmed."

"That's nice of you. I appreciate it, but I'm used to a busy schedule," you replied.

"You're freshly graduated, aren't you?" he checked.

"Yeah," you said, your lips quirking upwards at his guess.

"I thought so. You have that cute, wide-eyed, optimistic thing going for you."

A small laugh leaves your lips. "I know. Ashley said I'll grow out of it by the end of this quarter."

His face dropped, and he almost abandoned the prince charming act he was attempting to pull off for you. The mere mention of Ashley was enough to irk him, but the thought that she was trying to change you? Not only change you but jade you. To strip away the soft and sweet qualities that hooked him on you in the first place. It was criminal. He couldn't hide his disdain.

"You shouldn't listen to her," he said. He wasn't angry, but his cadence held intensity. "Ashley's problem is Ashley. To be honest, I don't even know why they gave her an intern. It's not like she'd be good at teaching anything when she still doesn't understand most things about our business herself."

Your fingers dug into the edge of your seat. It wouldn't have been significant in a normal conversation, but when speaking with a man who could hear a pin drop forty stories down, he noticed.

"You're still nervous," he observed.

In an instant, your hands flew to your lap, like you knew what gave your anxiety away. You fidgeted with the hem of your skirt and shrugged.

"A little," you admitted.

"Are you scared of me?" he asked.

You shook your head without even thinking about the question.

"No, it's not that. I swear," you reassured, "It's just that this is a big deal for me. I'm really honored you want to get to know me, and I just want to make a good impression."

"You don't need to worry about that. I wouldn't have invited you here if I didn't have a good impression of you," he said.

You sighed slightly, letting out a bit of tension, but he could still smell that boosted cortisol running through your blood.

"Come here," he ordered, his voice soft but undeniably firm.

"What?" you asked.

A puff of amused air blew from his nostrils. "Come here," he repeated, "Sit closer."

As if you needed the guidance, he patted the space directly beside his hip. He could see the uncertainty in your eyes even after the gesture. The lack of understanding toward his reasoning persisted. Regardless of your skepticism however, you scooted in his direction and ended up where he wanted you.

"That's better," he said.

With careful fingers, he slipped the glove off his right hand. Your eyes locked on it in subtle awe. You'd seen this man on billboards and commercials for years. His face dominated newscasts. His voice broadcast over the radio on a weekly basis. Still, you had never seen such a human part of him. Five fingers and a palm reaching for your own.

They clasped around your hand. His skin was smooth. The gloves preserved them from any marks of experience.

"Did Ashley warn you about me?" he asked, drawing your eyes back to his own.

Your heart thundered, but you couldn't lie. Never had Vought bragged about Homelander being a human lie detector, but in this moment, you felt like that was the case.

"Yes," you responded.

He clicked his tongue in disapproval. "You didn't believe her, did you?" he asked.

You could tell he already knew the answer. He just wanted to hear it.

"Yes," you whispered again.

"What did she tell you?"

It was hard to remember that conversation you'd had a few weeks ago with Ashley. Feeling like you were two seconds away from having lasers beamed through your skull made minute details fuzzy and distant, but you manage to choke a few out anyways.

"She said that you have a very specific vision for the Seven, and that you'll do anything to make your dreams reality. She was just saying you're ambitious. That you care about the greater good," you summarized.

"I have a feeling you're saying it a lot nicer than she did," he teased. He could feel the fear rolling off of you in waves, and in a moment, he would rectify that. But for right now, he didn't mind letting his precious little fawn tremble in terror for a few moments more.

"Yeah, she can be kind of blunt," you said with a shaky laugh.

"That's one word for it," he said.

"She's not gonna get in trouble because of what I said, is she?" you asked.

He couldn't help laughing at that. The sound came out low and throaty. You were just so fucking pure. Worried about protecting someone who wouldn't hesitate for a second to sell you out if it meant she could climb up another rung on the corporate ladder.

His exposed thumb rubbed back and forth over your knuckles. "No. Of course not. We're just talking," he said.

He leaned in closer to you, positioning his mouth in close proximity to your ear. His free hand came up to cup your jaw.

"I appreciate your honesty though. Ashley probably couldn't tell you this, but I appreciate a loyal girl like you," he murmured.

On both your hand and through his glove in contact with your chin, he could feel your skin heat up.

"Oh... thank you, sir," you said.

He chuckled. His fingers squished into the flesh of your cheeks, making your lips puff out as though they were seeking a kiss.

"So polite, but I like that. We need more people here who understand their place," he said.

At this point, the gravity of your circumstances began to settle on you. Your fear had worn off a bit, and you realized what a compromising position he had you in. With one tight squeeze, he could crush every bone in your face.

Out of instinct, you tried pulling back a little. You didn't make it obvious, only attempting to gain a few inches of space.

That was a few inches too many though. He tightened his grip and kept you where he wanted you.

"Ah ah," he tutted, "How many times do I have to tell you that you don't need to be scared? I'm not going to hurt you."

You dropped the resistance right then and there. It wasn't worth pursuing. If he didn't want you getting away, you weren't getting away.

He took a few more seconds to study your face, taking in every minutiae of your expressions. Then, his hands dropped to your waist, and he pulled you into his lap. His thighs were firm against your ass, both rigid in how he carried himself and defined from the pure muscle that made them up.

His hands smoothed up and down your sides, coasting over each crease in your blouse. He massaged your soft tissue with gentle squeezes from the beginning of your bra down to the swell of your hips.

"God, you're beautiful," he muttered, "You fit here like you were made for me."

You vibrated in his grasp. He could feel the way you quivered with the urge to pull away.

"Thank you, s-sir," you stammered, "I really appreciate it but-"

"But nothing," he cut you off.

"But I don't think we should be... doing this," you tried to continue anyway.

"Why not?" he asked. Though his tone made it obvious that no matter what reason you provided, it wouldn't change his mind.

"Because you're like my boss, y'know? And I worked really hard to get my spot here, and I don't want people thinking I slept my way to where I am," you explained, "You're really nice, and I admire you a lot, but it wouldn't be right."

He didn't respond immediately. He paused and let your words hang in the air for a few moments.

"You know," he finally spoke, "I don't think you understand how things work around here. It doesn't matter what anyone else in this building thinks. Only me."

You blinked at him, unsure of how to respond to such an assertion. It didn't matter though. He continued without your input.

"What I do with you, how I feel about you - no one else will know about it unless you tell them. But even if you do and even if they care, there isn't a thing they'll do about it. There's not a thing they can do about it," he continued.

"I still don't think it's a good idea," you maintained.

"Good thing this isn't for you to think about then," he mocked, "You're a fast learner. You'll figure it out soon enough. I am God in this tower. And a god doesn't listen to his subjects. He guides them. He knows best."

One of his hands slid up your tummy and over your chest onto your throat. He cupped your jaw and swiped his thumb back and forth across your bottom lip.

"What did Ashley tell you about me?" he asked.

"That no one gets in your way."

"Good. And she was right. No one gets in my way. Nothing stops me from getting what I want. And I've wanted you for too fucking long not to try you out."

That set of fingers on your chin pulled your face towards his and brought you into a kiss. You froze against his lips. It felt as though all of time stopped. This high up, you couldn't hear the sounds of the city outside the penthouse. No one existed in this moment but you and him.

Unlike you, he melted into the exchange. He sighed against your skin and pulled you flush against his toned body. After a second to let you come to terms with what was happening, he kissed you again. His lips sucked on yours gently, attempting to coax you into returning the affection.

The most he got is you puckering them up ever so slightly.

He pulled away with frustration in his eyes and grabbed your face, jerking you a little to look at him.

"Don't act like you don't want this. I know you do," he said, "You're scared, but you don't need to be. Relax and let yourself enjoy this. It's not everyday that the most powerful man on earth wants to fuck you."

Your eyes blew up like little saucers, but before you could really process the directness of what he'd said, he was kissing you again. This time it wasn't as nerve wracking. You softened up a little and kissed back.

You didn't put much effort into it. Your lips responded like this was a juvenile first date. But he didn't let up. He didn't let you give him anything less than your best. His hands roamed across your body. They groped and fondled your breasts and then migrated South to feel up your ass through your pencil skirt.

Your muscles started to loosen up after a minute or so. You told yourself this wasn't so bad. He was being gentle so far, and for someone with his abilities, you wanted it to stay that way. You brought your hand up to his face and cupped his cheek. With that as leverage, you deepened the kiss.

He groaned as soon as you started to give in. His hands fell to your hips and tugged you so that you were straddling him. He smacked your ass, the sound echoing around his apartment. You could tell he held back. A real spank from Homelander could shatter your hip, but this one barely even stung. Maybe he did like you.

His fingers came up and with a sharp tug, he popped the front of your top loose. The column of buttons sprung free. The strips of cloth fell away to each of your sides, exposing a sliver of your skin. He furthered it by pulling off the garment entirely. His eyes trailed along your bare shoulders to your collar bone before finally landing on your breasts. He gave them a firm squeeze, kneading them through the barrier of your bra.

Meanwhile you rolled your hips down on his lap. Immediately, you felt his bulge that had risen to attention between your thighs. You did it again and then again. Each time you ground yourself against him with more pressure.

He grunted, and his eyes fluttered. His hands returned to your waist and gripped you hard, guiding your movements. He seemed transfixed for a few moments, as if he couldn't decide his next move.

After a few seconds though, he got his momentum back. He yanked you off his lap and flipped over so that you were seated on the couch again.

He rose to his feet before you. There your eyes scanned over his body from his tousled blond hair and his kiss-swollen red lips to his sculpted abdomen and his swelling erection. You reached out to touch him, but he stopped your hand mid-air.

Once your arm was limp on the couch again, he removed his other glove. He dropped it to the floor before bringing his right boot to the spot on the sofa next to you. He unzipped the red shoe and then discarded it like he had with the other item. The other boot followed the same routine.

"I don't let just anyone see me like this," he told you as his fingers began to undo his collar, "You should feel lucky."

Lucky wasn't the word you would use to describe your feelings in this situation. Maybe special. Or distinct. Individual. Either way, you continued to watch. Your eyes glided over his figure as he pulled away the tight blue costume that seemed like a second-skin for how much he wore it.

His defined chest came into view. Your reluctance hadn't vanished all together just yet, but at this point, it was fading fast. Pale hair dusted the muscular expanse and trailed down his stomach to the waistband of the bottoms. The waistband he soon hooked his fingers over and peeled down.

He dropped the scaled navy fabric to the ground before kicking it away, leaving himself in just a small pair of boxers. His hand came down and rubbed the swollen tent at the front while his eyes lingered on you.

"Do you want to touch?" he asked.

You nodded. It wasn't a hard decision. This was still a bad idea. You hadn't changed your mind on that. But at this point, what else was there to do? Defying Homelander wasn't an option for anyone on this planet ever. You were no different.

"Ask," he commanded.

"Please can I touch you?" you said.

"Please what?"

"Please, sir. Can I touch you?"

"Good girl," he praised before nodding, "Go for it."

You reached out, this time successfully. Your palm landed flat on his stomach. You held it there for a moment, just feeling his skin. In a way, it was unreal. To feel that someone propped up on the world's pedestal was flesh and blood like you.

Rubbing up and down, you continued getting a feel for his body. He smirked at your wonder before guiding you up by the elbow.

"Stand up and do it right," he said.

"Sorry."

The word came from your mouth automatically. You brought your other hand up to his chest and felt the muscles in his chest. Everything was so built. You expected that, but it was still odd to feel beneath your fingertips. He felt like a living ken doll. You almost didn't believe if he dropped his boxers there would be a real cock there.

Your hands traced up to his shoulders with precision. They explored down his biceps and forearms. And then finally, you brought your lips into his chest. He sighed and tilted his head back, relishing the feeling.

You kissed all over, swirling your tongue and tracing shapes onto his skin. It was almost entrancing, to be so focused on someone like this. You barely noticed as he turned the two of you and sat himself down on the couch, lowering you to your knees.

You worked your mouth down his abs, licking and kissing the twitching muscles. Your fingernails scraped up his sides and then down onto his thighs. When your lips reached the waistband of his boxers, your eyes glanced up at him.

"Can I take them off, sir?" you asked.

He smirked at the title. Only one word of correction and he'd trained that phrase into you.

"Yes," he answered. It was a simple answer. All that was required for someone so naturally obedient.

You took it in stride, tucking your fingers over the elastic and tearing them down. His hard cock popped up and slapped against his pelvis. You couldn't have been happier about your earlier ken doll theory being proven wrong. The sight of his dick was enough to make you drool. It was better than any work of art out there.

It rested against his body at the perfect length, the perfect girth. The tip flushed beautiful red and pearly white beads of precum smeared at the top. Your fingers wrapped around it and gave it a few strokes, testing the waters.

His hand came down and petted your head. He watched as you studied the appendage, as you experimented with your own touch. It was so fucking cute he thought he might cum right then and there. Fuck, he thought you were sweet every moment he had eyes on you, but right now, you were darling. You were doing as he said. Accepting your place at the feet of a superior being.

"Put it in your mouth," he said from above, "I want you to taste it."

There was no hesitation on your end this time around.

"Yes sir," you responded before leaning forward and wrapping your lips around his cock.

He groaned and let his chest hollow out with a harsh exhale. Your mouth was so warm and wet, nice and snug around his length. He rocked his hips up, pushing it further into your throat. He expected a small gag or sputter, but instead you moaned. You shut your eyes and flattened your tongue against his shaft before beginning to bob your head.

"Fuck," he hissed. His legs tensed up, and he pressed down on your head. That did get a tiny gag out of you. You gripped his hips to stabilize yourself though and stayed in place. Your nose nestled against the darker curls of hair that sat at the base of his cock.

Spit leaked from your mouth and dribbled onto his skin below. He took a few moments to just enjoy the feeling of his dick down your throat. The sight of his sweet, innocent girl choking on his cock. Then he let you pull off and catch your breath.

You took a few deep puffs, letting the spots clear from your vision before you dove back in for more. Your hand stroked the lower part of him your mouth didn't cover in its shallow sucks while your other set of fingers caressed his balls tenderly.

He'd never experienced devotion. As much as it pained him to ever acknowledge, his sexual experiences had been lackluster up until now. There were the times with Maeve, but they always left something to be desired for him. Then there was the time with Stillwell that ended before it really started. In either case, no one had ever put all of themselves into pleasuring him like you were doing right now. It drove him wild. He could feel his sac tightening up, and he knew he had to get you off.

Planting one hand on each side of your head, he tugged you back. You looked up at him with glossy, cock-drunk eyes and saliva-coated lips. He swiped some of the mess away before addressing you.

"You're doing so good for me, but I think you're ready for more, don't you?"

"Yes, sir," you agreed.

"My perfect pet," he crooned and pulled you up onto the couch.

He laid you flat on your back and ripped your skirt and panties off in one go. His eyes drank in the sight of your nude lower half, but he didn't spend much time savoring it. He spread you out, slotting himself against your center.

With a few rocks of his hips, he dragged his length through your wetness. He let the sticky fluid coat his shaft, and then he sunk in. His tip bullied its way into your entrance and the rest of him followed. You whined at the stretch. Your walls clamped around him, eager to accept the intrusion.

"Atta girl," he grunted as he worked himself all the way in.

His hips connected with your ass, but he still bucked them, trying to get more. You yelped at the force. He was already buried inside you. Anymore and his tip would be nudging the entrance to your womb.

Fortunately for you, he pulled his hips back, giving you a short break from feeling so full. It was short lived though. Seconds later he snapped back in. That began the quick rhythm he set into. It was desperate and needy, emotions he'd tried to hide until this point.

You whimpered as your body bobbed with the momentum. His thrusts bounced you back and forth. The sounds of his body smacking against yours filled the room. His fingers dug into your waist hard enough to bruise. You didn't complain about the minor pain though because you could tell he was holding back in every other regard. If a few marks on your side kept you from being pulverized by a super cock, then that was a burden you were willing to carry.

Above you, he starts to pant. His breaths leave him raggedly huffing, sucking down what oxygen he can get in the midst of rutting into you. He tilts his head down at you and gazes at your blissed out face with lidded eyes.

"I could have anyone. Any person on this Earth would be mine if I wanted them to be. But the only one I want is you. Doesn't that feel good?" he breathed.

"Yes!" you cried out. Your back arched up off the couch. "Feels so fucking good, sir."

He leaned into you more, squishing your body into the surface below. Your thighs pressed against your tummy as he bent you.

"Yeah, it does," he grunted, "It's all there is. It's all you need to think about. How you're all mine."

"Mhm," you whined with a lazy nod. You were getting closer to cumming and responding to his words was taking a lower priority in your mind.

"And to think you tried to deny yourself of it," he mocked. He clenched his jaw and slammed into you harder.

You shrieked and clutched his shoulders. In the back of your mind, you hoped his penthouse was sound proofed or at least enough distance from the nearest one. Otherwise you wouldn't have to tell anyone about this incident for it to spread throughout the tower.

"I knew better, didn't I? I knew this is what you needed," he said.

Again, you nodded. You felt the heat in your belly reaching the boiling point.

"Say it," he huffed.

You tried to force it out, but your own hiccuped sob of pleasure cut you off. He didn't give you a break though. He stared down at you with expectation, so you continued.

"You know best- uh, fuck- you know best, sir," you whined.

"Good fucking girl," he growled on top of you.

He was already close from the blowjob you'd given him. Only a few strokes more, and he was ready to explode. He swiveled his hips, angling them upwards to pound into that special spot that would make you see stars and stripes.

You mewled when you came. Your body trembled harder than it did when you were scared. Arousal gushed out of you and coated his skin. He huffed and buried his face in your neck before letting go.

Everything faded into the background as you laid underneath him in the haze that came after the absolute high of pleasure. Now you could feel his heartbeat too. The organ thundered against his chest over and over as he came down.

Minutes later he pulled back. His knuckles caressed down your jawline before he climbed off of you entirely. He sat back on the couch and let out a deep breath. You weren't sure whether you were supposed to pick up your stuff and leave or follow along with him and stay close to his side. There was no real indication of what he wanted in this moment, but he turned to smile at you and huffed out a laugh.

"I think I'll keep you with me more often now. Really show you the ropes of fitting in around here."

You sat up and nodded awkwardly. He leaned toward you, cupping your cheek.

"I'll be a much better teacher than Ashley ever was," he said. His arm snaked around you and pulled you to his chest again. "No more errands or coffee runs. I'll show you things you need. Things that you'll enjoy."

He ran his fingers over your face and kissed your temple. The touches were tender against your skin. They would have been romantic if your mind wasn't racing with what this all meant in terms of your job and the grand scheme of your future.

Looking at him though, he wasn't worried at all. He smiled down at you before whispering once more.

"My sweet little pet. All mine now."

#homelander x reader #homelander x you #homelander x y/n #homelander smut #the boys x you #the boys x reader #the boys smut #ch: homelander 💌

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lienwyn · 11 months ago

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your photo realistic drawings? are so good? i remember skipping past the drawing of the who holds the devil forehead flick, thinking it was a screen grab from another one of jinyoung's dramas but you drew that? and the moon jo portrait? ur so insanely talented

Thank you so much! That honestly makes me so happy to hear 💜

The illustration from Who Holds the Devil was meant to look as much like a screenshot as possible to continue the whole "Who Holds the Devil is as close to a second season as we're gonna get" joke (which might be less of a joke now I guess?). Because if I'm writing it, why not supply people with the screenshots as well?

I even studied the specific lighting in Ga On's apartment to make sure it was the right hue and angle. And had to paste together three different screenshots of his apartment to get a reference for the background. And also had to pretend that I had any idea what I was doing when it came to the shadows and lighting — especially on Ga On's face because the reference had a completely different light source. That drawing was — and still is — the most complex piece I've made in terms of combining references and trying to make it look as unified and realistic as possible.

All of which backfired spectacularly since a lot of people now seem to scroll past it, thinking it's just a manipulated screenshot x'D

So mission accomplished? But, like, mission accomplished so successfully that it ends up being a failure since many don't seem to realise it's a drawing. One meant to imitate a screenshot from the non-existent season two, sure, but a drawing nonetheless.

I still have the WIP images from when I was drawing and here's a little gif I made out of them, in case anyone is curious:

The drawing turned out so much better than I had ever dared to hope and I'm so, so proud of it. Especially since I learned a lot during it and it helped push my limits in a way I'm usually too cowardly to attempt.

And sure, it was terrifying — especially when it came time to post it — but I also had a lot of fun. And now know a lot more about what makes things look realistic!

Thank you again for the lovely compliments! 💜

#Lienwyn Replies #Anonymous #Tbh I have a very tricky relationship with my art right now #I'm back to feeling like it's stiff and boring #And I keep asking myself why I'm even trying #Since I'm clearly not doing a very good job at it #But I expect that to pass #It usually does #Maybe I just need to sit down and draw something really immersive?#That tends to help #I do have some ideas for the three-year anniversary of The Devil Judge #We'll see

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mayykit · 4 months ago

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the way TDJ approaches gender is SO interesting to me.

soohyun as the female love interest with a more traditionally masculine approach to problems (trying to take things on personally to keep gaon away from hardship, fighting with physical violence, literally being a cop) vs. gaon as the male main character with a more “feminine” take on the world (nurturing his plants and the prople around him, protective of children and the weak, how his work is in his words and he is really only ever allowed to be physical about his rage by the man he’s closest to).

then there’s yohan, who’s just Man at his peak i feel (gun-wielding, broody, aggressive, dark and powerful and dangerous… but misunderstood and chivalrous and a provider at heart… mr Beast from the hit disney film type beat) vs. seon-a, who is the actual definition of an ambitious Woman (her power coming from being underestimated as a woman, and how she forcibly empowered herself through the circumstances of being taken advantage of for her girlhood).

and then there’s soohyun and yohan being in explicit competition with each other for gaon everytime they meet while gaon and seon-a passive aggressively battle away in yohan’s home. LMFAO. enough said on that one i feel.

Kim Gaon is the most female coded character ever

#good luck on gender exam op #these guys are actually the spectrum of gender #the devil judge #kim gaon #kang yohan #the gender representation in this show is so non binary coded #gender is a social construct #and this show just throws these guys into constructs #i have never felt more seen #might be hallucinating but i swear there’s this trope #where women in media don’t ever really get to crash out unless it’s with their romantic partners #with the person that makes them feel truly safe #and then you look at gaon #and the only person who just lets him crash out is. in fact. yohan #and also soohyun occasionally but she tries to fix all his problems which is no good #my gahan agenda is intertwined with so many thoughts on gender #and how everybody except yohan tried to tamp down gaon’s more masculine traits #whereas yohan emboldens and empowers gaon in that respect even when he’s the one on the chopping block lmao #get you a partner that’s secure enough to let you explore your identity type beat

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cecilyv · 2 months ago

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@liminalmemories21 and I wrote a little 8.15 - Lab Rats coda, buck/tommy.

Tommy hears Evan say, "Dad?" and just for a second he thinks that somehow, against all odds, it's Bobby standing there. He stands up so fast the chair tips over as he goes for the door.

The bubble of hope pops abruptly when Evan says, "What are you doing here?"

"Your sister called,” a voice he doesn't recognize says.

And well, fuck. There's just no way this ends well.

He rights the chair, squeezing the top slat, letting the wood bite into his hands. Evan was barely holding it together as it was, only really doing so by the skin of his teeth, by being the force of nature that he can be – focusing on his team, his family -- not on himself, or on. Or on Bobby. He asked me to, Evan told him through a sob, after, even as Tommy could see him try to push down the loss, to keep it off his face. Bobby did know his boy – worked best when given a direct plan of action.

Tommy scrunches his nose against the tears that threaten to fall again, to clog his throat. Wipes away the one that escapes and squares his shoulders to face whatever the fuck is happening in the doorway.

Wonders what on god's green earth Maddie had been thinking. Although, to be fair, he's going to go out on a limb and assume she didn't think their parents would get on a plane and fly to California to land just in time for the funeral.

Texts Chim / 🚨Phillip and Margaret are here🚨/

Gets a string of texts in response judging by the way his phone is buzzing in his back pocket, and he can't look at any of them because Evan and his parents have come around the corner and Even is saying awkwardly, "Mom, Dad, you remember Tommy." And then when neither one of them says anything, even more awkwardly, "You met him at Maddie's wedding."

Philip shakes his hand reluctantly, good WASP manners too ingrained to be actively rude enough not to.

Margaret looks at Evan. "I didn't realize you had company. Your sister didn't say."

Evan shrugs, doesn't answer. Doesn't explain.

Which, actually, Tommy wouldn't have minded a little bit of explanation, just so that he knows where he stands. Because he'd taken Evan home after the lab, after Bobby died. Nobody had questioned it. He hasn't left since. Evan hasn't asked him to, and he hasn't offered. Eddie's flight is due to land in an hour. He's not sure what happens after that. Although if Phillip and Margaret are here – for what? – having Eddie as back up might be for the best. That’s a devil he knows.

Tommy blinks and Evan is making coffee, and handing his mother a slice of coffee cake on a plate with a napkin - because given an awkward social situation, Evan, he learned the last time they tried this, will default to the polite rules of society to get through it. He doesn’t wonder where the coffee cake came from, because he'd discovered when he snooped around for breakfast ingredients that ill-fated morning that the only thing in Evan’s freezer is baked goods.

He takes the moment to check his texts, discovers that if Maddie had known their parents might show up that she hadn't told Chim. His / 😱 ‼️ / makes Tommy snort.

He checks to see if anyone needs him for anything, and then texts Eddie. As far as he knows Eddie's still pissed at him for breaking up with Evan, doesn't know if Evan told him about the hook up the other week, or the way that he'd said he was jealous of Eddie, can't imagine that's improved Eddie's opinion of him if he did. But – man deserves to be warned about the clusterfuck he's about to walk into.

/ Phillip and Margaret are here /

gets / 👀/ from Eddie, and then / why? / and then / like this day could get any fucking worse /

He’d only met them the once, in passing, nearly a year ago now, but he’s heard about them plenty - from Chim, from Eddie, and haltingly from Evan. He’s pretty sure he doesn’t have the full story of whatever it is, but he knows enough to know that adding them to the mix is not going to help Evan get through this day. He’d never really worried about it before, because he’d met Athena, Bobby – the important people.

He comes back into the kitchen to hear Evan saying, “You should go to Maddie’s, I’m sure she needs the help.”

And Evan’s mother waves a hand, saying, “We talked to her yesterday, she’s fine.” And then leaning in to put a hand on Evan’s arm, and he can see from across the room how surprised Evan is by that, and how much he doesn’t know what to do with it. Adds another mental note to the list of things he knows about the Buckley parents.

Thinks Margaret kind of missed Evan’s point. Maddie may be fine, but Chim’s not. Might be nice if her mother volunteered to give Maddie some extra space to support her husband, since she flew all the way here. He’s still not sure why the Buckley parents are here.

They don’t really have time to dig into it; they have a funeral to get to.

****************

The funeral is awful. Everyone in their dress uniforms. The pomp. The circumstance. The weight of the loss literally on their shoulders. Staring at the back of Chim’s head, having to put one foot in front of the other, maintaining composure when all he wants is to hold Evan and shield him from everyone and everything. Instead, on a city street -- a funeral march. Step. Step. Step.

The only time he and Evan have been in sync since they split six months ago and it’s to bear the burden of the first man to ever really give them a shot. To believe in them.

The brass gives a speech. Athena had asked Evan if he wanted to speak, and he’d shaken his head. “I can’t.”

He agrees. Has a fierce need to let Evan keep his grief private, not for public consumption.

After the funeral he hears Evan say, "We're going to Bobby and Athena's," and his heart fucking breaks at the way Evan's voice cracks halfway through Bobby's name. But then he's continuing, "for the wake." He hesitates. "Do you want me to call you an uber, or something?"

"Oh," Margaret says, and she sounds clearly surprised. "We thought we'd go with you."

It startles Evan into honesty. "Why?"

"To pay our respects. He was your captain. I know he meant a lot to you." Which is nice, until she adds, "That's what people do, Evan."

The way she says his name grates on Tommy's last nerve. He wants to say, 'no, people don't fly across the country to crash a funeral. People write a nice card. People know when to stay in their lane'. Almost says it, when Evan looks at him. But, whatever is going on between them, shutting Evan’s parents down probably isn’t his place. Is tempted to look around for Eddie, who might be able to get away with it.

Margaret looks torn, and Maddie – bless her – says, "I'm sure Jee’d like a last bit of one-on-one time with her grandma before the new baby comes."

"I thought Mrs. Lee was watching Jee this afternoon," Margaret says, proving that she is in fact totally incapable of reading a room. Even Phillip looks a little abashed.

He loses track of Philip and Margaret for a while at the wake. More people than he expected come up to offer him their condolences, like he has a right to grieve Bobby as much as Eddie, and Hen, and Chim, and Evan.

Finds them again when he hears Margaret asking Evan if he’s ready to leave. Like she expects her claim on his time to supercede anything else. LIke Bobby’s fucking funeral.

Turns in time to catch Evan’s absolutely blank look. “I’m staying.”

Margaret looks taken aback. “Oh, well, should we meet you for dinner somewhere?”

Evan shakes his head, looks impatient for the first time. “No.” For a second Tommy thinks he’s going to leave it at that, and wants to applaud, but Evan seems to realize how blunt that is, or maybe the look of disapproval on Philip’s face clues him in. Either way he says, “I’m going to stay, help clean up after everyone leaves.”

Margaret’s face tightens, and he wants to shake her, ask what she thought was going to happen here. They’d flown out for the funeral, so on some level they understand how important Bobby had been to Evan. Just not apparently on any kind of level that lets them empathize with his grief.

He doesn’t know where they go, but he does see Margaret and Phillip leave, stopping to talk to Athena before they do. Has no idea what they say to her, but she looks faintly surprised by it.

Margaret and Phillip are at Evan’s new house, Eddie’s old house, when they finally all get home. They’ve made dinner. Like any of them have an appetite, like they hadn’t just put away a semi-truck load of leftovers from the wake -- everyone tries to feed grief, like if you fill up on food, the sadness won’t have anywhere to go.

Reins it in. They made dinner. That was kind of them. One less thing for Evan and Eddie to have to think about. He eyes the casserole that Margeret puts on the table. It’s bland, but inoffensive. Suspects that Evan could make it better. Catches Eddie’s eye and has to stifle a snort when it is very clear that Eddie is thinking the same thing. Whatever grievances Eddie has with him – and Tommy’s prepared to admit they’re mostly merited – they’re on hold for however long Evan’s parents are here.

Dinner conversation starts with polite anodyne conversation about the funeral, how big the turnout was, how nice everyone was at the wake.

It moves on to Phillip saying, “The house is – different. We didn’t know you’d moved.”

Evan picks at his food and just says, “It wasn’t that long ago.”

Eddie takes the fall. “I moved back to Texas. Evan took over my lease.”

Philip nods. “Maddie hadn’t mentioned that.”

That brings Evan’s head up a little, “Oh, um, yeah.” Then he frowns a little. “Why would she?”

Margaret gives a brittle laugh. “Well, it’s not as if you tell us anything. If we didn’t talk to Maddie we wouldn’t know anything at all about your life.”

Tommy bites back the urge to suggest that maybe there’s something they could infer from that.

Margaret looks at where Evan’s plate is still more than half full. “You’re not eating.” Evan looks at his plate. “Sorry. I’m not very hungry.”

Margaret’s lips purse, and he silently dares her to say something. She doesn’t. Looks around the living room instead. “I like this. It’s much more grown up than your old apartment.”

Tommy winces and concentrates on his food.

Evan’s eyes flick around. “Yeah. I guess.”

Her lips purse again. “Evan, we’re trying.”

Evan looks blank. Eddie sends Tommy an alarmed look and mouths ‘oh shit’ at him.

Philip clears his throat. “We came all this way. Your mother made you dinner. I know you don’t call. But, is it too much to ask that you talk to us when we’re here?”

“I didn’t ask you to come,” Evan mutters. And Tommy would bet a lot that he doesn’t realize he’d said that out loud, knows from experience that when you back Evan into a corner he lashes out. Wonders how on earth Evan’s parents don’t seem to know this.

Margaret’s face is a perfect picture of frozen devastation, and he’d feel sorry for her if she wasn’t making Evan’s loss all about her. Wasn’t making a bad day exponentially worse.

There’s a knock on the door, and they all look around — doesn’t know who it could be, they’re all here.

Evan gets up to answer it, Tommy sips his wine to have something to do with his hands. Eddie twirls his fork mindlessly in the mess of noodles on this plate.

“May?” He hears and then, “are you okay? Is Athena— I can grab my coat—“

“No, no, we’re—“ something garbled, and then “not fine but –” A pause and then “I talked to Mom and we wanted you to have this.” There’s the sound of Evan taking a stumbling step back into the wall.

“I can’t, May, that’s for family, that’s for Athena — for you, for—“ and Tommy can’t bear to hear his voice breaking, cracking, gets up and leans into the hallway to see Evan clutching a flag.

Bobby’s flag.

“It is for family,” May’s voice is steady, despite the tears running down her face. “Mom said she had their house. His medals. She had what she needed and she wanted you—“ May gulps. “He would have wanted his son to have this.”

Behind him, Tommy hears two chairs being pushed back and whips around.

“You need to go,” he hears himself saying before he even realizes he’s going to. He hadn’t said anything earlier, wasn’t sure if it was his place, but he wants to try and preempt whatever they’re going to say now.

“Evan,” Margaret says, warning and entreaty, looking over Tommy’s shoulder. He feels Evan behind him, turns slightly and can see May standing awkwardly, shifting her feet like she’s not sure she should be seeing this. He understands; isn’t sure he wants to witness this either.

Evan just shakes his head. “Tommy’s right.”

Phillip stands up, arm around his wife’s waist, staring at Tommy. “He’s here. He’s not family. Maddie said you broke up.” Pauses and then digs the knife in. “She said he broke up with you. That you were devastated.”

And Evan looks at him like it's the first time he's really registered that Tommy's still there, that he hasn't left. And Tommy holds his breath, waiting to see what Evan will say, if he'll finally ask him to leave.

Instead he says, "He's here because he always shows up when I need him, and because he's willing to keep trying even when we both fuck it up."

The ‘unlike you’ goes unsaid. But, Tommy's pretty sure people from three counties over heard it loud and clear.

Evan’s on a roll now, all the things he’s been holding back all day coming out now that the dam’s been broken. “He tried to save Bobby twice, risked his life for Bobby. Risked jail for him. And you? You didn’t even — “ he chokes up.

“Funerals are for everyone else. Wakes are for family,” May says unexpectedly. “Evan was Bobby’s son. He gets to decide whoever else he wants to have here.” She holds Evan’s gaze when he looks at her, and after a moment he nods. Reaches out for Tommy’s hand, holding it hard.

“I buried my-, my father today. I’d like you to leave.” Margaret and Phillip are frozen by the dining room table. Evan unbends enough to say. “I’ll call you before you fly home.”

May looks cooly at Margaret and Phillip, every inch Athena’s daughter. “I have an uber outside, we can drop you wherever.”

Later, in bed, he’s curled around Evan. “He was supposed to be here,” barely aloud, just a whisper of a breath. “He was going to stand up for me, tie my tie and—“ Evan’s voice breaks and he lets out a single, wracking sob, his back shaking.

“He taught you,” he says to Evan, to himself. “He taught you what you need to know. To do. To be who you are.”

“I never told him,” Evan chokes out, “that I loved him, that he was my—“

“He knew,” Tommy whispers into his shoulder blades. “He knew.”

“He told me he didn’t have to worry.” Evan rolls over and pins him with a stare, the light of the moon just reflecting off the white of his eyes. “That you were good people. Don’t make him a liar.” Tommy swallows hard, holds his gaze as much as he wants to look down, away, anywhere but at Evan, tear-stained cheeks shimmering in the blue light. “He was a lot of things, but never a liar.”

“I won’t.” It breaks out of him, cracks open his chest and crawls out, like the baby in Alien, leaves him bleeding and open - would give everything to make the lie true.

“You did,” and there it is, Tommy wishes he could take it back, could live up to Bobby’s estimation of him. He wants to be that man. For Bobby. For Evan.

He can’t lie again, “I did.” Looks between them. “I won’t again.” Evan’s lashes shadow his cheeks, like he doesn’t want to look to see if Tommy is lying. He brushes tear off of Evan’s cheek, admits, “I’m really bad at it. Leaving you. I can’t — I can’t stay away. Not if you don’t want me to.”

“I don’t,” Evan says finally. “I never did.”

“Okay. Then I won’t.” It’s a promise to Evan. To Bobby. To himself.

#911 fic #buck/tommy #911 spoilers #episode coda #8.15 lab rats

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thetrasha · 21 days ago

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One Piece: The Princes of Pining

How down bad are they?

SANJI

∞/10

Sanji… oh, poor Sanji! He’s a hopeless romantic through and through. He wants to be at your beck and call, he wants to make you happy… because he’s never been happy. He has his dreams, yes, but they pale in comparison to his bleeding heart he tries to protect by uselessly flirting with every woman he comes across. Can’t reject him that way, can they? They know he doesn’t really mean it. Sure… he genuinely cares and wants to make people smile and show him that he’s worth something, but deep down he doesn’t believe a word they say. Yes, he’s a great chef, an even better prince charming and a phenomenal judge of character – but he’s also depressingly sad. At first, you were just like all the others. A woman to be taken care of! Another way to get a drop of validation and a whisper of true love without the real work that goes into a relationship, without showing who he really is, without revealing just how pathetic he thinks he is…

Unfortunately for him, you’re so glad he’s here, and you tell him that quite confidently. Often.

And it breaks him.

Why are you trying to do something nice for him? It’s fine! You don’t have to talk to him at all, he’s fine with cooking in silence and humming on occasion. Absolutely not! You’re not cleaning up after him, you’re a delicate flow-

The thing is, though, it scares him. Sticking around without expecting anything from him shocks him to his very core. Sanji knows that you’re amazing. You pull your own weight, you’re a vital part of the crew and you care for everyone… but his heart cannot help but beat uncontrollably whenever you’re near, even if you just see him as a good friend. He fantasises about what could have been if he were more of a man and woo you properly, if only he had the courage to sweep you off your feet – but… life has dealt its cards.

So he’s pining. Bad.

The others think it’s super obvious, but then again… they also think you’re quite obviously affectionate with him and he doesn’t notice a damn thing.

Sanji subtly tries way harder, even if he thinks that he doesn’t have a chance anyway. He stands up straighter, argues with Zoro even more frequently, makes you two an extra meal, just to feel closer to you... He talks to you all the time and remembers every detail.

Sometimes he’s smoking, leaning on the railing and dreaming about you. Those moments have become an everyday occurrence these days, because he just cannot stand being on the same ship as you without being able to hug and kiss you, without touching your skin, without loving you.

And Sanji desperately tries to hide his smile when you come find him and talk to him about the latest gossip in the girls’ quarters while you hand absentmindedly reaches for him.

Somehow, you always come around to find him when he's down.

You’re always there.

And you appreciate him even when he doesn’t go out of his way to show you what a catch he is.

…He loves you, doesn’t he?

ACE

10/10

Ace is another one who ranks high on the self-hatred scale, but for entirely different reasons. His self-worth issues poison every single aspect of his life and he cannot recognise his own worth even though he rationally knows that he’s an okay-guy, maybe more… he doesn’t know. All that he knows is the visceral pain in the pits of his soul whenever he thinks of his unique circumstances – he wishes he’d never been born in the first place. He’d hate to disrespect his mother like that, she wouldn’t know about his plight, but he doesn’t know how to come to terms with the fact that his biological father abandoned him, abandoned his purpose, and made him into a Devil. Ace doesn’t know why that guy is so famed and feared when his chosen father isn’t just a great leader but a phenomenal role model, too. Many may disagree – particularly those belonging to the Navy kind, but he doesn’t care. Whenever he’s with his friends, he doesn’t feel any sudden fatigue plaguing him. The restless nights and endless nightmares filled with taunts and hate suddenly don’t seem so problematic anymore. He’s found his calling and he is so happy to call Whitebeard his dad. Said title seemed so humble compared to the saviour he really is in his eyes.

Perhaps that’s why you unsettled him. His dad liked you a lot. The old man spent time with you and enjoyed your gentle nature. Ace didn’t know your role back then, he didn’t care to know if he was honest with himself… he hated you. He was jealous of you and the way you instantaneously clicked with the man who’d saved his life, a man so careless he’d crouch down to make himself appear less intimidating in front of you despite his old age and terrible state of health.

You noticed that Ace began competing with you… and you didn’t know why. He was technically your boss, why would he see you as an equal in the first place? In your confusion, you turned to Whitebeard who just laughed in amusement. And your Commander watched from the sidelines, pouting.

Ace hated you. He hated you so much.

...Until you started spending time with him because your captain, his dad, suggested it. And Ace would rather die than disappoint the man who’d given him what he always wanted – a father figure. So he kept you around, passively at first but getting more enthusiastic with time.

His dislike towards you was so natural in the beginning but he found himself enjoying your presence at some point. You were more than comrades in arms – you became true friends. And sleeping by your side eased his nightly troubles. You didn’t cure the flesh wound on his heart, but you consistently mended it, one day at a time.

He couldn’t bear looking at you when you turned around in your own hammock, shivering from the wind.

You’d hate it if he helped you out.

He’s broken. Totally shattered. Nobody wants that baggage, especially not when he lifts the veil and shows his true personality.

Less extravagant, less confident, less fun – worthless.

His flame would die.

He’d just keep being your friend.

It’s all a monster like him can ask for…

BUGGY

9/10

Buggy believes that nobody would ever love him… or even like him for all that matters. He’s so cynical that he scoffs at women before they’ve taken a proper glance at him – before they could laugh in his face and whisper amongst themselves about his… rather strange looks. He completely ruled out the chance of ever being with someone who means it and it made him bitter. Buggy is so dejected by this that every bit of self-loathing turns outwards in fits of blind rage and petty anger. His crew knows that he’s easy to tip off; one word about that godforsaken nose and there would be Hell on Earth waiting for them for days to come.

He plays the tough guy to discourage anyone from mocking him any further. His need for self-aggrandising displays of strength and cunning stem from a place of deep insecurity about his appearance. Whatever he can do to make it less painful, to cushion the impact – He does it. He’s become a fanatic perfectionist when it comes to matters of make-up because it may distract some people from the you-know-what in the middle of his face. He’s taken on the image of a fool and oversees a pillaging circus because he’d rather force people to laugh with him instead of at him.

He’d never admit that he’s miserable though.

Maybe that’s why he started treating you so poorly recently…

All had been normal for the first few months. You briefly got to know him when your social circle overlapped, meaning you find yourself serving Buggy the Star Clown far more often than you’d anticipated. It’d been professional, you did your job diligently and without any complaints. He was the boss. Whatever he says, goes.

With enough time he became sour, criticised things that meant absolutely nothing, but you acknowledged it because it was still reasonable and solely about your craft. As soon as he riled you up just to get a rise out of you, you were electrified with anger as well. So you talked back – all the time now.

Meanwhile, Buggy was painfully aware of his gigantic crush on you. It shouldn’t even have happened. You certainly didn’t make it known that you were interested, but your honesty and morale is what completely drew him in. Sure, you were easy on the eyes, too, but that doesn’t keep his interest for long because he hates himself too much to entertain the mere thought of that. This attitude had protected him throughout the years, yet as soon as he faces an actually nice person his coping mechanism breaks down?! Ridiculous!!

You never lashed out at him, no matter how hard he tried to squeeze the truth out of you, how much he wanted to see you blow up at him and ridicule his looks just to prove it to himself that he was utterly hopeless… but you just wouldn’t budge. You started arguing with him but wouldn’t take a swing and land a right hook right on his fucking nose. No…

You had turned to banter. You’d lost all respect because you were suddenly very aware of the fact that he was constantly bluffing, and you just smirked at him.

You damn tease, prancing around without a care in the world after you dug your claws into him and stole his heart.

But at least you were polite enough to ignore his whimper whenever you’d playfully tease him with your hands around his shoulders.

Oh fuck…

BROOK

8/10

Despite his advanced age he has shockingly little life experience. Sometimes he thinks that he’s hallucinating and haunts the ship in the dead of the night when all the other members of the Straw Hat crew are asleep. He believes that, at any moment now, he will wake up in a cold sweat in the middle of the Florian Triangle while holding onto the skeletal corpses of his former comrades – during those moments, he cannot properly rationalise that he gave them a proper burial at sea decades ago so that they may rest in peace. Music is the only thing that saves him when he’s like this. The wind carries his anguished melodies miles away, causing many villagers and pirates alike to mention an eerie song they heard in their sleep, like an omen of death.

Brook wants to be so much more than that, he wants to bring joy and mess around with people, just like he was used to when the unthinkable happened. He is grateful for his second chance at life, he just cannot help but mourn the life that he’s lost.

He’s an acclaimed musician, people love his music, they recognise him, and he’s found some reliable friends who have his back no matter what – not that he has one!

Anyways… he wishes he could sing more accurately about love. He knows family, he knows friendship but romance completely evaded him. Brook doesn’t know whether the memories that creep up in his head are him actually indulging in real flings with real people or whether they’ve been made up by half a century of loneliness and solitude. He wishes he’d know for certain because he knows that it’s all that he has left now.

Nobody would want a literal bag of bones – his longing was long dead before it emerged again, before he felt sane enough to let his mind wander again… but never stray too far.

His fellow crew mates were all beautiful in their own way, so bright and youthful. The women in particular were tough – so otherworldly beautiful, far exceeding the fragments of his lost life, so lethally intelligent and so different from one another. He appreciated Nami for her excellence, diligence and her silver tongue. She always knew how to live it up, yohoho! Robin was known for her survival skills, sharp mind and spooky comments. They were great friends and he cherished them.

You, though… you were his friend, too. Brook treasured your friendship greatly. It’s just that… you were so much more than that. He drew inspiration from your beauty, grace and tenderness, like you were his muse. All those songs he dedicated to your greatness was nothing compared to the graciousness you provided. Some of the others were hesitant to touch him, assuming that he was frail, but you sought him out for protection even know he knew that you could take care of some classless scoundrels. Still, you trusted him, wrapped your arms around his thin torso and pressed your warm skin against his cold bones. He could hardly feel the sensation because it suddenly felt like he’s had his heart back… just for a moment. Brook sensed the flutter in his chest and shivered, not knowing how to express himself.

He was falling in love with you. This is what this was.

But he wouldn’t ever confess his love to you, thinking that he’d be robbing you of your life.

He’s a dead man walking… and you’re so vibrantly alive.

He couldn't do that to you.

#fem reader #one piece #one piece x reader #op x reader #one piece fluff #sanji x reader #buggy x reader #ace x reader #portgas d ace x reader #brook x reader #x reader #thetrasha writes

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dismalflo · 3 months ago

Note

poly!wolfstar with fem!reader in which Remus is embarrassed bc he needs a cane for the first time and starts overthinking that reader and Sirius are too good for him (typical Remus), but then Sirius and reader are very reassuring and prepare something to show Remus how much they love him?

Thank you for requesting! <3

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader who reassure remus when he's in pain ✩ 1.3k words

cw: established relationship, fluff, chronic pain, remus overthinking, light hurt/comfort

“What do you think? Blueberry or chocolate, Rem?” you ask.

But Remus hears it like he's submerged underwater. His mind focused on the shooting pain rising up his leg and into his hip. Suddenly, he feels rather pathetic. A simple trip to Tesco that's all it was but it's feeling more like hiking up a hill with uneven footing. The shifting of his weight has done little to alleviate the discomfort. Maybe he shouldn't have left the cane at home.

It's a new addition to his routine, a helpful one, but there's a gnawing doubt in his mind every time he uses it. Rationally, he knows that you and Sirius would never judge him for it, in fact you actively encourage it, however there's this devil sitting on his shoulder telling him he’s less than, not good enough for either of you when he uses it.

“Rem?” Your voice pierces through his haze, and he looks up to find you reaching out, a hand gently gripping his arm. You’re watching him closely, your eyebrows drawn in concern, lips pressed in a soft frown.

“Are you alright?”

Remus blinks, struggling to catch up with the reality of the moment. His gaze darts to the shelves ahead, the colorful boxes and sugary labels blending together in a blur as his focus slips. The pain in his hip spikes again, sharper now, making him shift uncomfortably on his feet.

“I… yeah, just tired,” he mutters, the words escaping before he can stop them. It’s easier than admitting the truth. The lie has become a shield, one he wishes he didn’t have to use, but he does.

You’ve come to learn that ‘tired’ really means ‘in pain,’ that Remus has perfected this little fiction over time. You frown, a mixture of concern and quiet understanding in your eyes. Remus can’t help but feel caught, sheepish under your gaze.

“Shall we go home?” you ask, your voice soft, but insistent.

“Home? We haven’t finished your list, doll.” Sirius’s voice cuts through the aisle, and Remus flinches at his sudden arrival. If you’ve noticed, Sirius surely will too.

You glance up to see Sirius standing a few feet away, the playful edge to his voice dampened by the concern in his eyes. He doesn’t miss a beat, though, the way his gaze flickers over to Remus, assessing him with a look that’s far too sharp for casual conversation. His brows furrow slightly, and the teasing grin he usually wears falls into something softer, more understanding.

“I know but we can get these now,” you gesture to the basket in your hand, “and get the rest another day.” You say softly.

Sirius nods enthusiastically, if you had to guess you’d say he’s just desperate to get Remus off his feet as you are. “Alright, give me the basket.” he says beckoning you over.

“Why?”

“Because pretty girls like you shouldn’t have to carry the shopping.”

“That’s a bit sexist,” you reply, teasing, which draws a low chuckle from Remus. You can’t help but smile at the sound—it’s like sunlight breaking through a cloudy sky.

Sirius sighs dramatically, shaking his head. “It’s chivalrous, babe.” His grin reappears, though it’s more playful than before. “And handsome men like you should be waited on hand and foot.”

The compliment makes Remus flush, and you link your arm with his as you start towards the door. He’s doing his best not to lean on you, but when your arm slips across his back, he can’t fight it any longer, allowing himself to rely on you just a little.

The drive back to the flat is quiet, but it’s the kind of comfortable silence that has grown between the three of you over time. The soft hum of the car’s engine, the gentle bump of the tires on the road, and the occasional glance exchanged between you and Sirius are all that fill the space, leaving Remus to rest his head against the window, eyes closed, but still awake.

When you arrive home, you’re the first to step out of the car. You wait, smiling gently at Sirius as he helps Remus out, making sure he’s steady on his feet. Remus looks a little less sure of himself when he stands up.

Once back in the flat, the front door clicking closed behind you, a collective sigh of relief fills the air. The warmth of home, the quiet refuge from the bustle of the outside world, settles over them like a comforting blanket.

Remus is the first to move, pushing himself off the wall he'd leaned against for support as he made his way through the door. But before he can get far, Sirius is there, just behind him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

"Come on, Moony," Sirius murmurs, his voice soft but insistent.

Remus sighs, the exhaustion from the day pulling at him, but he doesn't resist. Instead, he turns his gaze toward you, who’s just a few steps behind them, already reaching for the cane that’s been abandoned in the hallway. You’re always so patient, always so understanding, and Remus feels both grateful and guilty for it. He doesn’t want to burden either of you.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you tease gently, flashing him a smile that’s warm but filled with that underlying concern that’s only for him. You approach, handing the cane to him with an encouraging nod. “Look, I’m not saying that you have to use it all the time… just– please, when you're in pain.” His theoretical pain as well as his actual pain seems to have an effect on you as you grimace.

“I know, yeah.” he mutters, but it’s more of a reflex than something he truly believes. He takes the cane from you, holding it in his hand but not quite using it yet. The weight of it feels heavier than it should.

Sirius notices the hesitation. His gaze softens, and without another word, he steps in front of Remus, blocking him from further retreat.

“Rem,” Sirius says, his tone not commanding but affectionate, “you’re not less than. Not to us. Not ever. You’ve got to let us help, okay?”

Remus looks at him, and for a moment, it’s like he sees something deeper in Sirius’s eyes. That same understanding you both share, that unspoken promise of support, no matter what. It makes the knot in his chest loosen ever so slightly.

Before he can say anything, you’re at his side, your arm slipping around his waist, a comforting weight that reminds him he’s not alone.

“You know we don’t mind, right?” you whisper against his ear, your voice warm with reassurance. “We love you, Remus. I love you.”

Remus swallows, the weight of their words settling in his chest like a soft, warming glow.

“Thank you.”

Sirius steps closer, his hand finding Remus’s, giving it a gentle squeeze. "You don't need to thank us," he says with a soft smile, his voice full of affection. "We’re in this together, always."

Remus feels the warmth of their care radiating through him, the love that’s become a steady presence in his life. He’s overwhelmed, and for the first time in a while, he feels like he can breathe.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you two,” he murmurs, the words barely escaping his lips.

You press a kiss to his cheek, soft and lingering, before pulling back just enough to look into his eyes. "Good thing you’ll never have to find out," you say, voice teasing but filled with sincerity.

Sirius, always quick to follow your lead, leans in to place a kiss on Remus’s other cheek, then a chaste one to his lips. "You’re stuck with us."

#flo'sfics #marauders au #marauders fics #marauders era #marauders fanfiction #poly!wolfstar x reader #poly!wolfstar x y/n #poly!wolfstar x you #poly!wolfstar x fem!reader #poly!wolfstar #poly!wolfstar drabble #poly!wolfstar fic #poly!wolfstar fanfiction #poly!wolfstar fluff #remus lupin x reader #sirius black x reader #remus lupin #sirius black

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angeliteria · 11 months ago

Text

𝐃𝐄𝐕𝐎𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍.

pairings — catholic!fem reader and eddie munson

summary — you're a good catholic girl. always have been — even though you're dating eddie munson, who's the complete opposite of that. he's crude and vulgar, and his influence may just taint you entirely.

warnings tags — adult language. mentions of religion, talks of god. eddie hates god, but has a god kink. major blasphemy. reader has daddy issues. mentions of jason craver (ew i know). graphic details of smut: loss of virginity (virgin!reader) + corruption. oral (eddie receiving). f!ngering. slight degrading but more praise. wrong usage of a rosary.

Eddie Munson was merely the Devil in your parents eyes.

To you, he was the seventh heaven.

Crossing paths with him was not a mistake, but a blessing. Eddie took care of you, and loved you. He really loved you.

You met him through a friend who went to Hawkins with him, and you couldn’t perceive him as a bad boy, whatsoever. He was genuine and kind the second you and him met, asking questions about you that no other guy ever had done.

But you knew he was not the guy you could bring home to your parents. Your parents were aware of him, since your father was a Sheriff for the Hawkins department, and always got reports of him.

You couldn’t tell them about your infatuation for Eddie, and how your heart burned for him, belonged to him. You were more faithful to Eddie Munson than you were to your Catholicism, and for you to say that to your parents, would earn you a kick to church camp.

You couldn’t say that their sweet little girl was in love with Hawkins’ freak; that he had told her many ways he wanted to deprive her of innocence and purity; that he dreamed of her worshiping him under her cross.

And you dreamed of that, every Sunday, for the past many month.

You sat in between your father and mother as the Priest read from the bible, and you fiddled with the ending hem of your white, babydoll dress. You stared mindfully at the cross, your head drawing the image of Eddie taking your virginity, rupturing your virtue, right underneath it.

You did feel a bit of guilt when you thought such lewd things, and you did blame Eddie for it. You felt even worse thinking of them in church, where you were supposed to be devoting your love and soul to the Lord, not a wild man.

“Hebrews 13:4 says, ‘Marriage is to be held in honor among all, and the marriage bed is to be undefiled; for fornicators and adulterers God will judge’”, the Priest spoke confidently, eyes glancing up to everyone for a second.

You swallowed thickly, fingers gripping tightly on your dress.

What the fuck, Jesus, you thought to yourself. I’m a fucking eighteen year old, of course I want to fornicate!

“Sweet dear,” your mother whispered, and you looked at her. “You look unwell. Are you okay?”

“Do you mind if I take a moment outside?” You wondered, brows drawing upwards. “It feels stuffy. Just for a minute, please.”

She sighed heavily, shaking her head. “Very well, then. Be quiet, dear.”

You thanked her, standing up, and quickly — but quietly — dismissed yourself out of the building, pushing open the wooden doors. The second you were outside, you groaned, the doors swinging close behind you.

“I’m damned for Hell,” you mumbled, rubbing your temple in frustration.

“So am I,” you heard a voice come from the side of you. You spin your head, finding Eddie there, smoking a cigarette. “For smoking of the Lord’s sacred grounds.”

“Eddie,” you sighed in relief, walking up to him, and he brought you into his embrace. He kissed the side of your head, before pulling back. “What are you doing here? If my parents — or anyone — sees you, they will make a fret out of it!”

Eddie chuckled. “Is that so?”

“I’m serious, Eds,” you frowned, throwing a small, playful slap to his shoulder. “We don’t need a scene.”

“Ah, I know, angel,” he cooed, kissing your forehead for assurance. “I just needed to see you. Was wondering what you are doing tonight?”

“I have homework, and finish my project on the Betrayal of Judas tonight,” you explained, annoyed at the mere thought of it. “It’s going to take all night. Why do you ask?”

“I wanted you to come by my trailer tonight,” Eddie said, and you smiled, but upset you had to decline his suggestion. “But it’s okay. I’m going to pick you up after school tomorrow, okay?”

“If Sister Josie sees you, she will report you to my parents,” you warned, and he only barked a laugh, throwing his head back. “I do not want to be sent to a camp because I was caught with you, Eds.”

“If your parents did that, I’d kidnap you,” Eddie stated, and you rolled your eyes, shooting a look at the church’s doors, eyes retreating back into his shortly after. “Go on in, sweetheart. I’ll see you tomorrow, and we can do something fun.”

You raised a brow. “Like what?”

“Anything you wanted,” Eddie promised, giving your chin a soft pinch. “Be good for me, yeah?”

You hummed, and nodded. “Bye, Eds,” you gave him a kiss on the cheek, and he watched you walk all the way back into the church.

You hurried back to your row, perching yourself back in between your parents.

“Feel better?” Your mother asked.

You inhaled sharply. “Much better.”

Your fork poked at the vegetables that sat on your dinner plate, your eyes boring into it. It was always quiet on Sunday dinners, and you never said anything, unless your parents did.

Your mother poured herself another glass of red wine, and your father glanced at you, then his wife. “Got another report today about that Munson boy,” your father cracked the perfect quiet, and was visibly angered. “He’s been seen graffiting near Lovers Lake.”

“And who is reporting that?” Your mother questioned, sipping her beverage.

“Probably that ass kisser, Jason,” you mumbled, and your father slammed his hands down on the table.

“LANGUAGE!” Your father bellowed, and you dropped your fork onto your plate, slouching back into your chair. “Jason is a good boy. A good son of the Lord, and that’s the kind of guy you need in your life.”

“Jason literally tried to kiss me at the eighth grade school dance,” you recalled, scoffing. “Without my consent, may I add!”

“Well you two were children then,” your mother said, and you rolled your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest. “He’s a lovely boy. His friends are lovely too!”

You purse your lips. “His friends are dumb fucks.”

Okay, so maybe Eddie really did have a bad influence on you. Because you would never — for the love of God — curse in front of your parents, until now.

“What’s with the mouth?” Your father asked, and you glared at him. “You ought to pray tonight to the Lord tonight.”

“I’m just growing up, daddy,” you mocked, standing up from the dinner table, and threw your napkin on top of your plate. You stormed out of the dining room, straight into your bedroom, slamming your bedroom door behind you.

You dropped your body onto your bed, stuffing your face into your pillow. You wanted to scream and kick every object in your room, but refused not to do such a thing.

You were fine with laying on your bed, and smothering yourself with a pillow, until you heard gentle knocks at your window. You jolted up, your head craning toward the sound, and peeked at the window.

And you found Eddie, standing right outside your window.

You cursed under your breath, and stalked over to your window, snapping it open. Eddie smiled at the sight of you, though he could tell you were mystified by his unnoticed appearance.

“Do you want to kidnap me that badly?” You wondered, and he chuckled breathily, shrugging. “You can’t be here right now. My dad and I got into this fight.”

“About me, I suppose?” Eddie asked, allowing himself to jump into and through your bedroom window, and you didn’t stop him. “I know how your daddy likes to talk about me.”

“He said I should be with Jason, or someone like him,” you said, and he closed your bedroom window. “Because he is a son of the Lord.”

“Or the fucking Devil,” Eddie joked, and you snickered, but agreed. “I wonder what your dad would think if he knew you were with me, hm?”

“He would take his shotgun to you,” you admitted, and Eddie took a look around your bedroom. “Anyway, you can stay for a bit, but my father demands I pray for cursing.”

“Their little girl suddenly has a mouth of dirt?” Eddie teased, and you slapped his arm, which he laughed at. “Have I finally corrupted their innocent daughter?”

“Shut it, Munson,” you snapped, and he leaned against your desk, his eyes casting down at your Bible that sat on top of it.

“How about you pray right now? I won’t say a thing,” Eddie suggested, and you raised a brow, tilting your head. “You need to get it over with, anyway. You won’t even know I’m here.”

“You want to watch me pray?” You asked.

“It’d be nice, ya’know?” Eddie grinned, and he could tell you were completely gullible to what he was getting at. “Maybe I could learn a thing or two.”

You considered it, and simply agreed, walking up next to him. You grabbed your bible, and opened it up as you made your way over to your bed, kneeling at the end of it. Your knees brushed against your carpet-like flooring, looking up at your cross.

“Wait, Eds,” you paused, and he was already giving you your pink rosary. You thanked him, wrapping it around your fingers, and held it tightly in your hand.

Your cross hung right above your bed, right in the middle of your room, and your attention diverted from him, to the Bible.

Eddie simply watched and witnessed you speak and pray, and he felt sick for getting aroused to this pure sight of you, pleading for forgiveness from a man who supposedly ruled the Earth. He wanted to touch you, for his hands to memorize and caress every curve of your body.

His eyes unpeeled that baby pink tank top you wore, then went to your white, soft sweatpants. He wondered how it’d be like for you to plead and worship him in front of the Lord as he made you call him your God.

Maybe that was an awful, crude dream to play in his head, but he wanted to have your devotion turn to him, not the Lord.

The Lord couldn’t love and care for you the way he did.

Eddie went over to your bedroom door, and locked it, seeing how focused you were on the pages of pure fiction.

He kneeled behind you, and wrapped an arm around your torso, your body shuddering. He brought you closer to him, planting an innocent kiss on your shoulder.

“Eddie, I’m praying,” you pouted, setting your Bible down for a moment. “You said you wouldn’t disrupt.”

“Just keep going, love,” he mumbled, his tip of his nose brushing against your skin. “Keep praying.”

You rolled your eyes and did so, continuing to recite every word from the pages.

Eddie’s lips made their way to the nape of your neck, getting the sweet scent of your perfume. “What a good girl,” he whispered, his hot breath sending a symphony of shivers along your body. “Doing anything to stay pure and good.”

You nearly faltered, your concentration weakening. His hand trailed to your stomach, resting on your abdomen.

Eddie had touched you before, but not fully — not under your clothes. He even afforded to show you how to touch yourself, but Sister Tina from your school said you’d be banished to Hell for such a thing; so that set enough fear in.

Now, you craved for him to touch him. You didn’t know why in this particular moment — out of every heated, lusting moment — you wanted to feel him, to take you apart, and taint every part of your body, and brain.

You began to stutter as you spoke, Eddie’s hand crawling under your sweatpants, grazing over your clothed area. “Do you think the Lord wants me to touch you?” He taunted, and you hummed, your hands grasping harshly onto both sides of the Bible. “What do you think?”

“Eddie,” you managed to breathe out. “Eddie.”

“I want him to watch me take his devoted angel,” Eddie continued, his fingers creeping into your underwear, and your body flinched the second his fingers pressed against your bud. “Show him that he is no protector.”

You nodded, and Eddie grinned, resting his chin onto your shoulder.

You wanted Eddie. You needed Eddie.

“Keep reading, or I’ll stop,” Eddie warned, and you couldn’t hold onto a single thought as his middle finger curled into your unripe cunt. You moaned, squeezing your eyelids shut to the feeling of it. It was a single fucking finger in you, and you felt like pure bliss.

Eddie continued to pump the individual finger in you, slowly and surely as you tried to read more.

Everything was going smoothly, until a knock hit against your bedroom door.

Your father barked your name, you and Eddie freezing up. “Honey, why is your door locked?” Your father asked, shaking the doorknob. “Are you okay?”

Eddie smirked, his ring finger joining his middle, both pumping into a picked up pace.

“I–I’m praying!” You announced, trying to hold back your noises. “I wanted to pray in privacy, talk to the Lord!”

“Oh,” your father spoke from the other side of the door. “I’m glad to hear that, sweetie. I just wanted to say, you know I’m just looking out for you, right?”

Eddie’s fingers struck an unknown, but euphoric, spot in you, and you choked down a loud moan. “Yeah, daddy! I know that,” you responded, throwing your head back onto Eddie’s shoulder, and the Bible collapsed to the side of you.

Eddie chuckled quietly, using his free hand to wrap onto your throat. “What a filthy girl,” he whispered into your ear, grasping onto your neck.

“There’s bad guys out there, like Eddie Munson,” your father said, and Eddie wanted to bark a laugh. “If you were to be with a boy like that, I’d lose it. Boys only want one thing, and you know that.”

Another noise was lodged in your throat, Eddie having to squeeze your throat as a warning.

“I know, I know! Now, can I continue praying, please?” You asked, and Eddie’s finger shoved into you faster, and harder.

“Yes, of course! Your mother and I are heading to the Martins for a bit,” he acknowledged, and you had to slam your own hand over your mouth. “We should be back no later than 11. Be good!”

You kept your hand over your mouth until you heard the front door slam shut, and the second they did, you freed all your noises. Your chest heaved, your body becoming pudding against Eddie’s.

A hot sensation hit your stomach, and you found pleasure in it. It was an unfamiliar, enjoyable feeling. Your thighs trembled, and Eddie took a quick note to it, noticing how you were barely adjusting to this. “Are you going to cum?” Eddie asked, and you looked at him with confusion.

“Cum?” You repeated.

“Does it feel like your stomach is on fire?” Eddie asked, his fingers making themselves deeper into your core, and you nodded. “That means you’re at your climax, love. That you are going to cum. It’s very normal.”

You still had a lot to learn, and Eddie was glad enough to teach you it all.

“Just let it go, sweetheart. Let it be free,” he cooed, and you hummed, your body convulsing the second your climax poured out of you, nearly dropping to the floor. He kept you up and close to him, and you panted, swallowing thickly.

Eddie’s fingers disappeared out of you, removing his hand completely from you. He placed his two fingers in his mouth, getting the sweet taste of you, and nearly moaned. “You taste fucking divine.”

You blushed, and eyed your Bible, picking it up. “I think I got enough forgiveness,” you joked, and Eddie hummed, helping you stand up with him. “I just…”

“Hm?” Eddie wondered, taking the Bible from you, and rested it on your desk. “What is it, sweet girl?”

“I want,” your voice quavered, your head hanging low in embarrassment. “I want more.”

Eddie placed his finger under your chin, bringing your head up to look him directly in the eye. “You want more? You have to be more specific, love,” Eddie mused, and you whimpered. “Use your words, please.”

“I want you to touch me more,” you only knew how to say it like that. Just paraphrase it in that way. “I want you to fuck me?”

“Is that a question or statement?” Eddie jested, and you whined more, embarrassed. “I’m kidding, sweet girl. I know what you mean, but are you sure?”

You nodded, smiling in confidence.

Eddie tugged you closer to his body, his lips smothering yours, and his hands laid on your hips, squeezing them gently. Your arms looped around his neck, holding him close to you, your body aching for him.

He led you over to your bed, sitting down onto it as you straddled his lap. Your hands cupped his cheeks, your rosary brushing against his skin, and you could feel him smile on your lips.

His lips fell off of yours, and he stripped off his upper half clothing, dropping them to your floor. Your eyes widened to the view of his body, his abs perfectly toned, and your finger drew around the tattoos he had on the left side of his chest.

“I like this tattoo,” you giggled at the Demon and spider tattoos, and he smiled, kissing the side of your head. “But I will always like your puppetmaster tattoo a lot more.”

“Gotta get you a tattoo one day,” Eddie said, and you shook your head. “Get you a pretty tattoo, just like mine, yeah?”

“I’ll think about it,” you said, and he hummed, his fingers hooking under your shirt. You let him take it off of you, undoing your bra by yourself. You hesitantly shimmed off your bra, the straps sliding down your arms, and onto your lap.

You put it on the ground with the other clothes, and you didn’t stare at Eddie as his eyes gawked at your breasts. You were insecure and worried – he was the first guy to ever see your bare body.

Panic slowly rolled in. “Is it okay? Am I okay?”

“Baby,” Eddie breathed, looking up at you, and then at your breasts. “You are so beautiful. This body, all mine to touch and mark.”

Your worries washed away, Eddie planting loving kisses on your breasts.

“Your body is fucking gorgeous,” he whispered, captivated and enthralled by your gracious beauty. “All fucking mine.” He carefully laid you on your back, on the bed, and hovered over you, his lips falling back onto yours. His body rutted against yours, hands at the waistband of your sweatpants,

“Take them off, Eds,” you breathed into the kiss, and his taste was gone for a moment as he listened, stripping off your sweatpants. You were left in your white cotton panties, and he took a second to unbuckle his belt, and then his pants, both landing on the ground.

You and Eddie were only left in your underwear, and you could feel a hard bulge brush against your inner thigh.

Oh, you thought to yourself. That.

“Are you sure you’re ready, doll?” Eddie asked, and you looked at him with assuring, doe eyes, and he kissed your forehead. He reached over to his pants, grabbing his wallet from it, and pulled out a small wrapper from it.

You shivered, and your eyes bored into Eddie as he took off his boxers, and you tensed the second you glimpsed at his cock.

You were about to pray to God again, due to the overwhelmingly huge size of Eddie.

Eddie opened up the wrapper, taking out the condom, and slipped it on. You took off your panties and kicked them off, throwing your rosary too, seeing how they joined all other clothing items on the floor.

“It’s going to hurt at first; if you want me to stop, just say so,” Eddie said, and one of his hands held onto yours for comfort as his other was used to guide him into you. You could feel the head of him at your cunt, and you squeezed his hand whilst his cock made its way into you, slowly and bit by bit.

Your back arched, gasping aloud to the feeling of him fulfilling you. Eddie’s hand grasped onto your jaw, holding onto it, forcing you to hold eye contact with him. “Just take me, love,” he mused, and you whimpered in response.

You were being easily stretched and torn apart by his cock, your virtue draining out of you with every brush of him coming in and out of you. You continued to hold onto his hand, his thumb rubbing the back of your hand for assurance you were safe.

Eddie kept a steady, delicate pace, taking a clear eye to how you were already in shambles. He was simply dispossessing you of your longing purity, your body and devotion belonging to him now.

This was Seventh Heaven to you — this was all of the joy and exhilaration you longed for.

Your cunt adjusted to his size, and your hand let go of him, setting both of them onto his shoulders. “More, Eddie. Please,” you pleaded, and he began to drill himself deeper into you, his hands pressing onto your stomach for support.

You squealed, his eyes on the way his cock thrusted into you. Your body elevated upwards, and your glossy eyes caught a glance of the cross above your bed.

If this corruption was so cruel, so vile, why did it feel so fucking amazing?

Flares of euphoria spurred throughout your body as wanton, lewd noises elicited out of your mouth, and filled your bedroom. Embers of pure, raw desire were in Eddie’s eyes the second they fell back into yours, his breath shuddering his rib cages.

A firestorm grew in your stomach, and your nails dug into Eddie’s shoulder, earning a harsh moan out of him. “‘M gonna cum,” you told him, your chest falling up and down rapidly. “I need to cum, Eds.”

“What a sensitive whore you are,” he taunted, and you groaned, the fire spreading into your thighs. “Cum for me, sweetheart. Cum for your God.”

Your lids sealed shut as your climax peaked and rushed out of you, your body moving with a hard jolt to it. Eddie nearly laughed mockingly at you, your delicate, unripe body, now sweating and shaking from sinful sex.

You barely had collected the fact Eddie referred to him as your God, but you didn’t hate it.

You liked it.

“I’m going to fuck your pretty mouth,” Eddie said, and helped you sit up as he took off the condom. “I always told you I’d find a way for you to worship me. Get on your knees, angel.”

Eddie tossed his condom into your trash bin, turning his attention back onto you.

You obeyed, and stumbled to your bedroom floor, collapsing down onto your knees. Eddie seized your rosary, and took the opportunity to tie up your wrists with the symbolized jewelry. You whined, tugging at your hostaged wrists.

“Open your mouth for me,” Eddie said, standing in front of you. Your mouth popped open, and he shoved two fingers into your mouth, creeping them to the back of your throat. You gagged the second his fingers hit your throat, your eyes watering.

You stared up at him with pure and pious eyes, that were almost daunting, too.

“How are you going to be able to take my cock, when you can barely take my fingers, angel?” He asked, and a tear trickled down your cheek. He was amused by this single tear. “You worship me?”

You nodded as his fingers left your mouth, his knuckles brushing along your cheek. “Yes, I worship you. Only you,” you assured, giving the edge of his palm a delicate, small kiss. “You’re my religion.”

He chuckled. “Such a good little thing you are.”

Eddie’s fingers curled into your hair, nails scratching against your scalp. His hips pushed forward, his cock stuffing your opened mouth.

You remembered your friend told you about blowjobs — that you make sure your teeth don’t touch, or it makes it unpleasant. Your friend wasn’t as faithful or pure as you were, only going to Catechism to please her parents.

Eddie’s cock continuously hit the back of your throat, drawing inchorenet gargles from you as tears lined at the brim of your eyes. Your throat was brutalized, yet you soaked into the pain of it, taking pleasure in every second of it.

Your eyes rolled back the deeper his cock went, his teeth gritting together, and moaned your name like a mantra.

Eddie’s head fell back, his hips snapping into your face, and you gurgled, trying your best to breathe out of your nostrils. “Shit, shit, I’m close,” he told you, and that was the only warning you were given, nothing else. “Keep your mouth steady and open for your God, baby.”

His climax flooded into your mouth, your tongue getting a salty taste of his high, and he pushed his cock out of your mouth. He tried to catch his breath, sweat beading at his forehead and body, his fingers unhooking from your hair.

“Let me see, doll,” Eddie said, and you happily showed him the way his cum sat on your tongue. “Mhm, that’s a good girl. Swallow it.”

You closed your mouth, taking it all down at once, and he kissed the top of your head. He unknotted the rosary, and your wrists were glad to be free.

Eddie sat the jewelry on your bed stand, and helped you up, sitting you down on your bed afterwards. “Are you okay? Does anything hurt?” He panicked, and you shook your head, a few strands of your hair matted to your teary, sweating cheeks.

“Did I do okay?” You asked, and he frowned, cupping your cheeks, caressing them lovingly with his thumbs.

“You were wonderful, sweet girl. So good,” he reassured, kissing the top of your head. “Let’s get you cleaned up, and dressed. You still have that project.”

You groaned, barely remembering it. “Oh fuck!”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x female reader #stranger things #stranger things 4 #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #joseph quinn #joseph quinn x reader #eddie stranger things #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #stranger things smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fluff

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orphicsun · 7 months ago

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.・College Ellie Headcannons゜・

Note: This is more loser Ellie-centric, I wanna maybe do a part two with just reader and her. Some sexual content and mentions of getting zooted below so 18+ warning!

•Art major, but she’s not the typical hot artsy lesbian you dream of her to be. More like rolls a fat blunt and sketches in her journal, it’ll either turn out to be a masterpiece or look like a crackhead had a go with her paper.

•Speaking of art major, when she’s horny and frustrated because she refuses to hook-up…she draws the lewdest art known to woman-kind. Those are her real masterpieces, but she can’t exactly turn them in for credit in her art class, can she? Fuck, the things that woman can make, though. Lowkey uses her exes naked bodies as inspiration though, maybe kind of weird but who’s gonna stop her?

•Doesn’t eat the food on campus half the time. She is embarrassingly addicted to Tai Pei containers and the occasional microwavable egg-roll. “That shit’s nasty, Ellie! Goddamn, just eat the Tacos 4 Life we have on campus.” Her friends will all tell her, but no. It’s like a guilty pleasure. Maybe it’s cause she grew up lower class and is used to TV dinners, has a special trauma bond to food that should be banned and probably is outside of America.

•Wardrobe consists of band tees, honorable mentions to Gorillaz and Falling in Reverse.

•Is actually an insanely talented writer. After reading her journals I feel like nobody talks about how emotional her entries are and she keeps a journal of her own in college for sure, not only for sketching and organizing art but also to write all her feelings out.

“Fuck me, this is my last year being gay.” -After her and Cat’s break-up, probably.

•Hates coffee. Definitely game-cannon, but this is important to the college setting. It’s the classic Monster or nothing, and she will absolutely judge you for drinking coffee. She calls it “the devil’s dirt.” So dramatic.

•Used to watch bad Hallmark movies because of Dina, now watches them alone because she misses Dina. There’s nothing like crying your eyes out to Christmas Under Wraps!

•Has a collection of rubber ducks on her shelf. Doesn’t use her very small space for normal things like her wallet or books, no. It’s rubber fucking ducks.

•Also has a slipper collection in her tiny closet, from Pikachu all the way to dinosaur feet.

•Has the “two-seater” t-shirt (iykyk) but refuses to wear it in public because she’s a pussy

•Favorite fruit is grapes. I just know my girl loves grapes when she can get her hands on them steer clear bc she will NOT share. Favorite candy is gummy worms!

•Actually wears rain boots when it’s wet outside or snowing

•Likes wired earbuds over airpods, listens to Pearl Jam when she misses living with Joel

•Is oddly good at making those little paper stars and has a huge grocery bag of then in all different patterns and colors

•When she starts dating you she shows you her dinosaur cookie-cutter collection because you're really good at baking. (Also bc she wants to see you in a frilly cute apron!)

•Is a slut for hugs. Kisses are cool, sex is great but agghhh Ellie just loves wrapping her arms around you and sometimes when you two are in her dorm she'll just hug you for what feels like hours on end, she calls it her 'weekly therapy.'

•Loves high sex because when she's sober she hates feeling like she's awkward or all up in her head. She also has a tendency to invite you over for sex after smoking.

•Has a septum piercing. Maybe this one is self-indulgent because I would go ballistic over seeing actual Ellie with one, but I say that college Ellie got hers pierced at 16 and didn't cry over the pain but wanted to literally jump off of a bridge the entire healing process it was so bad.

•Sometimes when you kiss her, her septum will slide over and look uneven and she feels fucking NIGERIA FALLS in her boxers when you fix it for her. Also for those of you who are sluts for glasses, you can fix her glasses too and it'll make her just as weak.

#tlou2 #ellie tlou #ellie williams #ellie the last of us #the last of us part 2 #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams au #ellie headcanons

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ckret2 · 10 months ago

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Chapter 76 of human Bill Cipher not looking much like the Mystery Shack's prisoner because he's just vibing on the porch: Mabel's riding high on the success of making Bill two whole friends, Ford's dealing with curses... and let's see how that camera got cursed in the first place.

####

Mabel asked, "What about Aaron Laarson?"

"I don't know," Candy said, "Aaron is cute, but he isn't a very good dancer. That's very important to me in a teen pop idol."

"He's a really good actor, though," Grenda said. "You should see him in Hot Models 2: Runway Boogaloo!" Candy looked thoughtful.

They'd spent the last thirty minutes chattering, with Grenda and Candy sitting on Bill, who was now laying his upper body on the couch cushion he'd been assaulted with earlier but otherwise hadn't moved. To all appearances, Bill was sound asleep—he even breathed like he was asleep—but every once in a while, he'd pipe up with something like, "Don't get too attached to Aaron Laarson. He's dying in a kayaking accident next summer."

Grenda groaned in disappointment. Candy said, "He should have spent that time practicing dancing instead of kayaking."

Mabel caught movement in the corner of her eye, and started when she saw Ford and Dipper. "Uh oh. I didn't expect them to come in on this side of the house."

Across the clearing, Ford shouted, "Mabel, what the devil is he doing outside with—!"

Mabel shouted, "It's okaaay, I got permission from Grunkle Staaan, I love yooou!"

Ford hesitated. "Well... if Stan okayed it."

Dipper looked at Mabel and her camera. Mabel looked at Dipper and his camera. They immediately started making the stupidest faces they could at each other's cameras. "Hey," Mabel said, "did you find the nightwigglies? It looks like they found yooou!"

Dipper self-consciously tugged up the vest he was using like a makeshift skirt. "We did! It was so great, we recorded some kind of ritual dance, how they make babies—" At Grenda's outburst of "Ewww!" he quickly clarified, "Not—not in a gross way—and we saw some kind of Nightwiggler god! It was amazing!"

"Wow! That's great!" Mabel said. "We summoned a demon and almost died."

"What?"

"By the way!" Mabel waved her camera at Ford. "Grunkle Ford, I kiiinda used your cursed camera by accident. Could you please uncurse the tape so I can keep the episode I filmed tonight? Goldie said the magic thingy he stuck on it will only keep it tame as long as the tape's in the camera."

"That's because it's technically the tape itself that's cursed, not the camera." Ford wondered if Bill had led Mabel to the camera.

"Can you uncurse it, though?"

"I think so. I'll see what I can do." Ford took the camera from Mabel. He decided not to comment on the girls' interesting makeup choices.

Bill opened one eye a sliver as he felt Ford and Dipper step on the porch, saw Ford's bare calf over his boot, and cracked up. "What happened to your pants! Did you try to join the Hokey Pokey?"

Ford gave Bill a withering look—caught sight of Bill's mismatched tween-girl-pencil-case/airbrushed-hot-rod eyeshadow, and laughed in surprise. "What happened to your face?"

"Aren't I beautiful?" Bill asked, lacing his hands under his chin (and making Ford snort again when he spied the multiple nail extensions on one hand). "Go on! Tell me I'm beautiful. I know I am."

"You're..." Ford was keenly aware that Mabel and her friends were probably behind this makeover, "...certainly colorful."

"Stanford, you flatterer!" Bill cackled.

Dipper headed inside, yawning. "I'm gonna... go to sleep or something."

That was a good idea; but Ford was hesitant to go in. He was loath to trust Bill unsupervised alone with a couple of vulnerable children, with no one to keep him in check but another child he'd already manipulated into helping him escape once.

But who was Ford to judge. Bill had manipulated him into helping him escape, too. He supposed Mabel could handle him as well as anyone else.

Grenda said, "I think we should watch Hot Models 2 anyway! It's got lots of cute boys! And girls, I guess." She turned to Bill. "Hey, do you like girls or boys?"

"Sometimes," Bill said. "Sure, I'm up for it. It's a pretty good satire of Big Fashion and I like the runway fight scene with the big light show."

To Ford, all Bill seemed to be doing was talking about movies, wearing stupid makeup, and being a chair for a couple of kids. It was so... normal.

It was something a person would do.

Ford made himself go inside. Maybe he'd start work on uncursing that tape for Mabel before he went to bed.

####

Bill had written a magic-negation seal on the back of a crumpled Mystery Shack receipt and attached it to the camcorder with an X of clear tape. Ford had only used that seal twice in his life. Once, thirty years ago, when Bill had taught it to him. And once last fall, when Ford had attempted to draw it in the Book of Bill to prevent its anomalous effects. Bill's book had absorbed the seal into its page until it disappeared—then burped. At least the symbol still seemed to work on the camcorder.

Ford tried to rewind the tape to the beginning; something inside the camcorder caught and made a nasty sound. He grimaced and hit the stop button. That wasn't good. He carefully peeled off the magic-negation seal, popped the cassette tape out of the camera, and examined it.

He pushed up the cassette's guard panel, but where there should have been a strip of magnetic tape running beneath it, there was nothing. The tape must have snapped. As he tried to inspect the damage, the cassette jumped and rattled in his hand, trying to snap the guard panel shut on his finger like it wanted to bite him.

"Stop that," Ford chided. "I'm trying to repair you." Would it listen? In his experience, objects animated by this particular curse tended to be consistently hostile. He might need to re-seal it.

To his surprise, the tape settled down sedately on his desk. That was more like it.

"Can you unreel the damaged ends of your tape?" If it could, that would save him the effort of disassembling the thing entirely.

After a short pause, the cassette flipped up its guard panel and extended two ends of broken tape.

"Thank you."

It looked like something had... burned? melted the tape? But what? The video cassette's casing was completely undamaged, how had something managed only to burn the tape inside?

Ford snipped off the damaged ends of the tape, used a little strip of masking tape to connect them back together, and carefully rewound the tape a few seconds with a pen. This was only a temporary repair; he'd have to transfer the contents of this cassette to an undamaged one. Mabel would probably want it digitized so she could make her video, too. But watching a few seconds wouldn't destroy it; and he wanted to know whether the camera had recorded whatever damaged the tape.

He carefully removed the smallest of Project Mentem's undamaged monitors, moved it to his worktable, plugged in a VHS-C player, and slid the cassette in.

As he started to play back the recording—the first thing on the screen was one of Mabel's terrified-looking friends—the monitor trembled and jumped, banging heavily as it landed back on Ford's worktable.

"Oh, behave." Ford peeled the magic-negating seal off the camcorder and slapped it on the TV. It immediately stilled. Some gratitude for repairing that tape.

When Ford turned his attention back to the screen, Mabel's friend's face had been replaced by Bill's, his curls filling the edges of the screen.

"Gold-O! You came back!" "Hey, Grend-O. Sorry for the wait..."

As Ford watched, Bill grappled with the camera, eventually managed to get a grip on it, and stared it down with nearly enough fury to make Ford forget the goofy eyeshadow. "Now let's get this straight. Everything beneath this shack's roof is my domain and under my protection! If you want to hurt anyone here—you'll have to get through m—"

The scene cut straight to Mabel's face as it skipped over the damaged section he'd had to cut out. "Welcome back to Mabel's Guide to Secret Sleepovers! Weee're—"

Ford stopped the tape. Huh.

Huh.

####

As soon as Candy and Grenda were gone, Mabel flung her arms around Bill. "Thank you for being nice to my friends," she said. "Especially Grenda. I'm so glad you liked them both after all!"

Liked them? He'd been a charming host to them, but. "Did I?"

"Yes," Mabel informed him firmly. "You did."

Well, he figured he must've, then. And Grenda had grown on him. She'd complimented his eyes, she admired gross things, she had very intelligent opinions on amphibians in general and axolotls in particular... "Hey, any friend of my friend is a friend of mine!"

"That's so much better than what I was trying to say." Mabel let go of him, beaming. "Wanna hang out with them again sometime?"

"Sure!" Bill said, shrugging. "We still have to watch some dumb action comedy movies."

"Great! I'll let them know the next sleepover's over here!" She ran upstairs.

Calling her friends to arrange the next sleepover before they'd even gotten home. Yeah—that was generally how Bill planned his parties, too.

Looked like his social circle for the foreseeable future consisted of three little girls. Wasn't ideal, but he could work with that. He'd always liked getting invited to girls' nights. And maybe at future sleepovers he could talk the kids into some real fun. When they weren't trying to keep quiet, he knew, they fed off each other's chaos. And he was sure there was a budding pyromaniac lurking in Candy's heart.

####

Ford nodded as he passed Stan in the entryway. "Just getting up?"

"Yep. Just going to bed?"

Ford shrugged ruefully. "Afraid so. We got some terrific footage last night, though."

"Oh, yeah? Anything sellable?"

"That's up to Dipper, but I think there's good potential. Bare minimum, I'd bet some cryptozoology documentaries would be interested in his findings."

"Hey, all right! Not bad for a night's work." Stan passed by, headed for the bathroom.

And Ford almost headed on to the guest bedroom—but, reluctantly made himself turn toward the kitchen.

Bill was sitting at the table, sipping at a can of cider with an empty one already on the table in front of him, staring out the window at the morning. He didn't usually drink that heavily this early; it probably meant he was heading to bed soon. The girls must have kept him up all night. Dipper had regaled Ford with tales of what Mabel's sleepovers were like.

"Bill."

"Hm?"

He should have gotten straight to business. Instead, he said, "I watched some of Mabel's video from last night."

Bill glanced over at him. (He still had that ridiculous makeup.) "Oh, yeah?"

Under my protection. Did he consider himself the household's guardian—or its owner? "I..." Ford cleared his throat. "I wondered about—the symbol you painted on your hand to disable the camera. That part of the tape melted, and—I assume it was light-activated, which means it must be different from the seal I already know, so...?"

Bill's face had immediately closed off. He turned away. "You're not my student."

Ford was surprised at how much that felt like a slap to the face. He should have been glad—he'd finally managed to get Bill to agree with what he'd been telling him all summer—but he hadn't expected Bill to ever give up. (He hadn't expected Bill to ever change.)

But he probably hadn't really given up. No doubt he was giving Ford the cold shoulder to see if he begged Bill's forgiveness.

"No. I suppose I'm not." He trudged into the kitchen, rummaged in his coat pocket, and dropped a leather pouch on the table. "Anyway, I'm just here to drop this off."

Bill reached for it, stopped himself, and warily asked, "What is it?"

"The rest of my nutrition pills from my interdimensional travels." When he'd lost his trench coat to the lake during the eclipse last week, he'd had to dig out the old tattered one he'd worn during his travels, and he'd happened to find his pills at the same time. It had occurred to him to bring them up while he was working on Mabel's tape. They were tricky to synthesize, but they lasted forever and the ingredients could be found in almost any dimension—whether there was anything otherwise edible for humans or not.

Bill eyed him suspiciously; but he opened the pouch's snap and peeked into the resealable plastic bag. They didn't look like "pills" so much as small balls of incredibly dense dark brown bread, each about the size of a wad of bubblegum. "Whyyy?"

"To make up the difference in your diet until we figure out the food problem," Ford said. "They're formulated so that four a day meets a human's... well, meets my nutritional needs. I haven't looked into your..." vague gesture, "body... type."

"Is this your emergency stash?"

"It... was." Stan had persuaded Ford to get back onto normal food (as much of a waste of time as it was), but he still had this stash left.

"Why are you giving me your emergency stash."

"Because... I'm not having an emergency and you are?" It was better than a couple of avocados and some hot sauce. Honestly, he should have thought to go looking for his nutrition pills weeks ago. If he'd realized just how severe they'd made Bill's situation... or how stubborn Bill would be about asking for help... or that they'd ever plan to keep Bill around long enough that his nutrition would be an issue.

Bill squinted at him, and for a moment Ford thought he was about to start a fight for some insane reason; but then the air seemed to leak out of him, his shoulders sagged, and he just looked at the nutrition pills. "For starters, they'll need more than twice as much iron."

"That much?"

"And more vitamin D, I don't remember the numbers right now." He shut the pouch, sat back, and lifted his cider can again. "All right."

All right? Ford supposed that was all he was getting. He turned to go.

As he did, Bill said, "Bed?"

Ford glanced back. "Yes?"

"Fine," Bill said. "Have nightmares."

He couldn't help letting out a laugh. "Fine. You too."

"It's too late for you to start trying to sweet-talk me like that, Stanford Pines!" But he tilted his can toward Ford—cheers—chugged down the rest, and cracked open a third.

####

Dipper was already in bed when Mabel charged in. He rolled over slightly, saw she was still in her sleepover pajamas, and mumbled, "Going to sleep too?"

She rummaged around in the closet by the door. "I can't waste that kind of time!" She retrieved a shoe box full of the wooden models of the townspeople she'd crudely whittled last summer at a library arts & crafts program run by Wendy's dad. She dumped them out on the floor, and, for lack of a figure representing Bill, tore a corner off a stray sheet of notebook paper and drew his eye on it. "I've got to capitalize on last night's success!"

She snatched her pyramid prism off the windowsill and taped the paper eye on it. "Hey, you." She poked Bartholomew's cradle. "Why were you a big chicken in front of my friends?"

"What, with you waving that camera around?" Bartholomew said. "I didn't want it to know I have a soul to steal."

"You knew?! You jerk!" She gave the cradle a harder poke, rocking it slightly.

Dipper yawned. "Capitalize on what success? The demon summoning?"

"No! Helping Bill make two new friends!" Mabel sat on the floor, plopped the Bill prism down amidst the other wooden figures, and started setting them upright. Waddles waddled over to sniff at them.

"Oh." Dipper groaned and rolled back over.

"The next stage of his rehabilitation is expanding his social circle. Get him some normal friends that don't want to eat people or destroy moons or whatever!" She grabbed up the notebook paper again, tore it into sections, and wrote on each with the nearest gel pen: "Friends!!!" "Maybe" "NO" "Healthy ☆ Rivals" "♡ Potential dates? ♡" She added thoughtfully, "And maybe get him a love life. We had to chase off his last girlfriend."

Dipper groaned louder. "I don't wanna think about Bill dating. That dumb eye-bat was bad enough."

"She's not dumb, she's into avant-garde experimental films. And she watches them with subtitles. Bill said so." She placed her, Grenda's, and Candy's figures in the Friends section, tentatively placed Dipper halfway between Maybe and No after checking to make sure he wasn't watching, and then started scanning her collection for more likely friends. "Who in town do you think would date Bill Cipher?"

"Nobody. Everyone hates him."

She stuck Wendy and her gang in the "Friends!!!" section, she thought they were a safe bet. "Who do you think would date Bill if they don't know he's Bill?"

"Nobody." Dipper pulled his blanket over his head.

"Pbbt, don't be so negative! You've gotta believe in him." Blubs and Durland? They were probably his friends, right? She sorted them accordingly and added Lazy Susan to the "Maybe" section. "Just you watch. I'll have Bill reintegrated into society before the end of the summer!"

Mabel had picked out several more prospective friends for Bill before Dipper sighed, rolled over again, and said, "Why do you have to make friends for Bill?"

"Bro. Come on. When he's left to his own devices, he keeps talking about pulling people's veins out of their bodies or telling them secret information about their own childhoods. He's probably talking about something creepy right now."

####

"I'm telling you," Bill said, gesticulating emphatically with a cider can. "It works. Your cousins will never argue with you again, and you guarantee they'll be with you forever! It's the perfect way to permanently resolve family disputes!"

"I can see your logic," Stan said, grimacing. "However. I'm not eating my cousins."

"Not all your cousins," Bill insisted. "Just one, to send a message. You don't even need to eat the whole guy! Just half a limb or so. If you want to look like the bigger man, you can even let him choose which one."

Looking faintly nauseous, Stan shoved over his unfinished eggs and pancakes and stood. "What the heck was your home life like?"

"Oh, it was terrific. I was the family golden child." Bill dug into Stan's eggs. "I was everything your family hoped you'd be and was disappointed you weren't!"

"Was that before or after you started eating your cousins?"

"I didn't say I did it. That's your species' thing." Bill said, with a lofty tone that suggested moral superiority, "We're inedible."

"Ha!" Stan shook his head. "You talk a big game for a guy who's never eaten one family member!"

Bill snapped the tab off his cider can and flipped it at Stan's head.

####

"He's delightful, but he's an acquired taste," Mabel said. "He just needs somebody else to help mediate when he meets new people! Like letting two cats sniff each other under the door!"

"Okay, but why you?"

She thought about that, staring at the pyramid representing Bill; then she shrugged. "Somebody has to."

"They really don't."

"Somebody should," Mabel insisted. "I just really want to see him make friends with everybody here. It's like... making it up to the town for hurting them last year."

"I think leaving them alone would work better. After what he did, he doesn't deserve to be friends with anyone in town—"

"It's important to me, okay?" Mabel snapped. "It just is."

What was that for? Did she think he was criticizing her for befriending him? He mumbled, "I didn't mean you."

She was quiet a moment. "I know."

"Sorry." Dipper was too tired for this conversation; he was just sticking his foot in his mouth. He yawned, muttered, "Good luck scheduling him a playdate, I guess," and rolled over.

####

After sleep and lunch, Ford returned to his study, set up a second blank video cassette to copy the damaged one's data, carefully rewound the damaged one all the way to the beginning, and watched it for the first time in over thirty years.

The recording was grainy and distorted now. It looked so old. This technology had been brand new when Ford had bought his video camera—so new that he'd had to order it from overseas, it hadn't been available in the United States yet. How quickly things changed.

The camera turned to take in Ford's own, younger, beaming face. "This is Dr. Stanford Pines, with the first of what will hopefully be many video recordings of the oddities in Gravity Falls." (In the present, Ford snorted.) "The subject of this first video is a series of magic symbols that, when combined, can animate inanimate objects. Any inanimate object."

He turned the camera around. Like a vampire's morbid pulpit, one of Ford's journals was laid open atop the lid of a black casket. Two heavy chains were laid across each side of the book and locked around the casket's handles to keep them tightly secured. A couple dozen pages in the middle of the book had been left free of the chains, but were pinned down by a cinderblock.

All the security measures were clearly needed; the book was thrashing in its restraints strongly enough to make the casket lid rattle. The visible text writhed across the journal's pages, words and symbols appearing and disappearing in the margins. The susurrations of the pages rubbing against each other sounded like the hissing of a trapped animal.

Ford tipped the cinderblock off the journal and pinned the pages down with his shoe instead. "Several days ago, a local director taught me the spell he used to animate clay figures for his movies. I'd thought perhaps he was creating golems, but aside from the superficial similarity of writing symbols to animate figures of mud, there doesn't seem to be any similarity between his ritual and any golem folklore I've ever heard. Furthermore, his creations are intelligent, capable of speech, and seem to remain loyal to their creator simply out of a passion for acting and respect for his directorial talents rather than any sort of magically-compelled loyalty." A wry note entered his voice. "And I can confirm that the spell itself certainly doesn't impart any loyalty."

The page below his foot erased itself and replaced the text with large, angry text: "WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO EARN MY LOYALTY?! YOU DOG EAR MY PAGES! YOU USE ME AS A CHOPPING BOARD!"

"Wh—! Who do you think you are, a Sefer Torah?! Don't be so precious! You're made of faux leather and craft paper, I'll dog ear you all I want!" Ford snapped. "And I already apologized for the chopping board thing!"

The journal stopped moving. "My cover isn't real leather?"

"On my budget?! The closest you've ever come to real cow hide is visiting the Sprott farm!"

While the journal was stunned silent, Ford scooted his foot aside so the camcorder could see a symbol on the opposite page—one of the few bits of ink that didn't seem to shift around the journal's pages. "This is the symbol the director taught me. But it's only supposed to work if you perform an accompanying ritual to activate and power it, which I haven't." He reached down with a gloved hand to flip the loose pages over, then pinned them again under his shoe to let him record another symbol. "This symbol is supposed to power magical artifacts. I suspect writing both these sigils together in the same book has caused them to interact in unexpected ways. But, by themselves, these two are insufficient to bring a book to life—I experimented by copying them both into Journal 1—so perhaps some of the other symbols or spells written in Journal 2 are contributing to—"

"WHAT?!" Journal 2 angrily scrawled around the perimeter of the second symbol. "You tried to bring that teacher's pet to life?! What's wrong with ME!"

"You mean, besides your completely uncooperative attitude, reckless abuse of magic, and murder attempts?" Ford ignored the journal's angry "shouting" as he went on, "But until I figure out what the other symbols are, my... anonymous informant on the occult—"

"You don't mean Creature #326? Tell me it's not Creature #326!"

"—has taught me a sigil that should be able to reverse the effects of the animation spell—"

A series of magical sigils flashed across the journal's page and were quickly replaced by "HA-HA-HA!" The camera shuddered.

"What was that?!" Ford set the camera on the casket where it could watch as he tried to pin down Journal 2's fluttering pages and write on it. "We'll see who's laughing in a minute, you— Stop erasing what I write!" Ford tugged out a sticky note that had been serving as bookmark, hastily scribbled on it, and slapped it into the journal. "Ha!"

The book immediately fell still.

Ford grabbed up a tape dispenser from the floor, pulled off a short strip, and attached the sticky note more securely to the page. "Well. That was effective." He flipped through the journal. "Furthermore, it looks like all the changes Journal 2 made to itself have been reverted. Good. It defaced a lot of data I'd hate to have to reproduce..." As he spoke, the camera slowly rose into the air.

He turned to pick it up, flinched, and quickly got to his feet. "Oh! Uh. Hello."

"Hello," the camera echoed in Ford's voice.

"How did you...?" Ford smacked his forehead, eyes wide with amazement! "Of course! My recording! The symbols my journal wrote! This is fascinating. Recording the symbols on magnetic tape must be just as effective as writing them on paper, even if the symbols aren't visible without specialized equipment. I'll have to experiment with other methods of... of..." Ford petered off as the camera slowly floated higher. He held out a hand hopefully. "Please come back?"

"No," the camera said. "Please give me your soul."

"No." Ford took a deep breath, set Journal 2 on the casket, and flexed his fingers. "Okay. Let's do this again."

As the Ford of thirty-odd years ago wrestled with the camera on the TV screen, the much older Ford sighed. That had been fun. Exploring the bizarre and aberrant had still been fun, back then. That thought disconcerted him; was it no longer fun now? He supposed it still was to an extent. He was just worse at having fun. Harder to dazzle.

He wondered why Journal 2 had been so wary of Creature #326. Bill. It had been right, he was Ford's "anonymous informant"—Ford had told him about his hostile new living journal in a dream, and after Bill had finished laughing, he'd taught Ford how to counteract the spell activating it.

But how did it know?

Could it have warned him about Bill?

Ford would never find out now.

The TV went dark as, in the recording, Ford trapped the camera inside a box. Slightly muffled, Ford said, "Try getting out of that!" Under his breath, he muttered, "I think I prefer writing over narrating anyway."

The screen remained dark for another ten seconds as the camera bumped around and muttered to itself. And then it abruptly cut to a shot of Dipper's bed. Off-screen, Mabel's voice said, "Awesome, still works!" She set the camera on the table under the kids' window—

That was what Ford was looking for. He rewound several seconds and began transferring the recording of Mabel's sleepover onto a fresh tape he'd prepared earlier.

After that, maybe he'd go back to the start again so he could see the other symbols Journal 2 had flashed at the camera and copy them into Journal 5—onto a page already prepared with the magic-negating seal.

####

In the Nightmare Realm, a red book with a golden handprint on the cover boldly labeled "2" floated alone in the void, as it had since it had been tossed in the bottomless pit a year ago.

Its tattered pages were splayed open as it drifted weightlessly through the aether.

On one page near the center of the book, a sticky note with a seal drawn on it was attached to the page with a strip of tape, and surrounded by a warning never to erase the symbol on the sticky note.

The tape had lost its stick after decades buried outdoors; it stuck to the sticky note, but not to the book. The sticky note was barely holding on by a corner.

And as the book slowly wheeled through the void, the last corner peeled off, and the sticky note fluttered away.

Journal 2's pages rustled.

####

(I think y'all who have been keeping up with my posts about this fic know exactly what's coming next. 😎

Thaaat's right. 😎😎

An unrelated flashback chapter!!!

Anyway hope y'all enjoyed, let me know what you think!)

#mabel pines #dipper pines #(for the art)#bill cipher #human bill cipher #(for the fic)#gravity falls #gravity falls fic #gravity falls fanart #fanart #my art #my writing #bill goldilocks cipher #(Dec 12 edit: chapter has been renumbered)

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monstas1ut · 2 months ago

Text

Unforeseen

SATORU GOJO x black!nerdy!reader

Summary

__ garden tool!Satoru Gojo is the hoe of jujutsu college, he’s known by many.. for good looks, funny commentary, and a big slinky dick he can’t keep in his pants. What happens when he gets ahold of black!nerdy!reader who has read too many smut books…

Content

__ black!reader, female!reader, gojo is a hoe, unprotected risky sex, creampies, slight power bottom!reader, dirty talk, floor sex, oral, worshipping cock, pussy drunk Satoru, lots of teasing

___ brown skin can be dark, light, medium color.. whatever. brown is brown.. and it's gorgeous

A/n : I did not read this over…lol

Sweet angels almost always fall to the inevitable conclusion of becoming corrupted. Could anyone imagine the bright blue eyed whore of a man being a sweet angel? The answer to that daring question was no. Not even the most artistic souls that specialized in imagination couldn’t see that man being anywhere near angelic. Sure, his hair was as white as precious angel wings but his actions made even the devil flustered.

If there was one person on campus that knew nothing of this so-called angel, they must be new to the school. And how funny is that? Your eyes were all bright and bold behind your lens, only trying to read the printed words in the sweet book that you brought a few days ago. Unfair to you, your friend continuously spat out nonsense about a certain someone. To be honest, you had no care or wonder about this person, you didn’t care if his dick was 50 feet, you just simply weren’t interested.

Being new to a college was like death already. The large buildings, the huge campus that felt like a terrible maze, the shitty yet interesting students. All of it was truly too much for you, a girl who radiated sweet angel energy.

“And they said he got like 40 bodies”

“Anddd that is a walking std..” you muttered this under your breath, flipping the thin page of your book as you breathed in the sweet calming air of the library. Honestly it’s the most comfortable library you’ve ever been in. Nobody was really here, that is, other than you and your lovestruck friend who had her whorish tendencies. However, you judged her not one bit. Sometimes men are just too hot for their own good.

“He is not. I heard he got tested for everything last week.” With confidence boosting from her and her tongue making an appearance to show how excited she was.. it made you laugh. “Girl. That boy got his business practically runnin ‘round here like a roadrunner.” You blurted out, still keeping your quietness to a level. It was quite hard to do so, especially since what she said was so hilarious. This.. Gojo guy really had the bitches after him.

You shall not be one.

That’s what you said in your head when you began leaving the library with your friend. That’s what you thought. There’s just no way a real life guy could compete with the fictional glory of men. When they were written correctly your pussy was like an excited dog, and as the owner of said sex organ, you had to tell her multiple times to sit down. But as stated, you only feel that absorbing need when it’s a fictional man.

So how come the second you see this Satoru Gojo guy walking past the library, your pussy starts leaking? It was far from realistic, it was like a poorly written love at first sight scene. The slow motion occurs, Sakura flower petals are flowing right past you and he’s giving you the most sinister smirk. He might’ve winked at you as well but you did not look hard enough to tell. You just about burnt your heel considering how quickly you turned on it. And if you had pearls they would be clutched in both hands.

Ridiculous it was. That man was over 6 feet tall, his jawline was sculpted by God personally and his eyes were just unreal. This was so unreal that it pissed you off… Not only that, but that was your first encounter with him, though, luckily not your only.

Swallowed up by your thoughts and smutty little brain, you began having some dreams about him. It was quite unfair as well. You weren’t an ugly girl, no, but your confidence with talking to men and the way you portray yourself just wasn’t giving you a great outcome. A hobbit you were, so, every party, every event, you merely stayed away. Those things were filled with horn dogs and cheaters. Not saying you aren’t a horny beast but you could control it.

Besides, while college life is filled with unexpected events, drama, and experiences, you always focus on school itself. Maybe that is why Satoru found you so interesting. It was obvious actually, obvious to everyone but you. See, considering you are new, you do not know Satoru’s character or the way he goes about things. Number one thing he loves doing is making it seem like he’s fairly interested in a girl. Sitting next to her constantly, being all sweet, showing genuine interest in her hobbies… The man was slick in his own twisted ways.

But unfortunately he has met his match.

According to everyone else, you brought the opposite of Gojo Satoru to the school. You were the female angel, sweet and kind, quiet yet attentive. People felt genuine energy flowing from you right into them, and your beauty fit the description of your own character traits. You were that sweet angel that people spoke of. But people still fail to realize that as a teen, Satoru was a sweet angel too. And what happens to all sweet angels? Unforeseen circumstances.

“Liar… Just tell the truth already…” Your pretty eyes glanced around the shabby room filled with boxes of books and some old computers here and there. Today you were tasked by the librarian to switch out some books that were rotting on the shelves. It was a rich Friday, and she always entrusted you to not do anything drastic on Friday. But oh was she wrong this time…

“Okay so I’ve been with aroundddd…. 10, 35…- 60 people. Porn stars got more bodies than me!” There he is in all his stride, attempting to swallow you up in this trap of innocence. With over 60 bodies theres just no way a drop of innocence would even save him. Not to add salt to your wound, but his troublesome, sky blue eyes were watching you intently while you walked around the room. He could notice your slight tremble, your anxiousness and your heat that radiated off you. He knew when a woman wanted him , and he was sure you did.

At first he thought you’d want nothing to do with him. A girl that keeps her bag so deep in her side, filled with books and notebooks for each class? That’s an organizational trait, and that burned him like holy water burning a demon.

“You don’t consider yourself a pornstar by now? You practically fucked every girl in our government class” you might’ve been a bit more on the blunt side, staring into his eyes without a lick of trouble casting. To be frank, Satoru enjoyed the sass from you. It was something he hadn’t experienced, he also enjoyed watching how your sun kissed skin would glow just under a shitty light. He wasn’t falling in love, no, he’s just never had someone like you before. You’re merely a sentence on his checklist.

Fuck y/n till she’s drooling out.

And the only reason you’re even on his sinful checklist is because he simply figures you’re a freak. There’s a premonition he has of you, this creative picture in his mind that he knows is about 80 percent true. For one, you enjoy hiding your physical assets instead of showing them off. Secondly, his glimpses of the front covers of your books has done him well to know that you’re smut crazy. Third, you are quite pretty without makeup.

He wants that.

“Nah.. maybe for you I could be. I’m not taking anything up the ass though” his joke was met with his own slight laughter as he leaned more against the frame of the door. Great, trapping you in here. You had no idea how he even knew you were here. One second he’s drowning in people at a party he threw himself and now he’s here messing with you at 11am. He really wanted to check you off his list…

It made you cringe, but his appearance was nothing to cringe about. He was wearing one of those nice fitting compression shirts, a black one with those forbidden, unspoken, grey sweatpants. Who doesn’t love that..? Who doesn’t love the obvious pole in his pants, all rock hard and just aching for you to play with it. His mischievous little playful smirk started to show while your imaginary scene took over.. He caught you staring at his bulge and that was just game over for you.

That’s before your eyes sharpened, you finger demandingly pointing in his direction.

“I’m not fuckin you Satoru…” you stood your ground, only having those thoughts disperse into thin air. You were serious.

“I’m not fuckin you Satoru~ . That’s what you said to me.. remember~?”

His joking manner made you sick to your stomach, or maybe it was his cocky smirk that revealed his pretty white teeth. Either way, the joke was on you for now. You were the one with a cock deep in your throat. It ached, but your gag reflex was minimal. Satoru took interest in that quickly. He wondered what you did to train it that way…

“Do you go around just sucking dick?.. how come I can fuck your throat-… shit-.. like this?” Satoru will admit, as much as he loved teasing you, a part of him was just a tad bit worried. Your piercing, dark eyes were staring up at him with glossy barriers. And this is while he’s slowly slipping in and out of your throat. He’s never had a girl do such a thing. It made his heart flutter, it made his cock jolt.

“Naughty girl~.. i knew I was right.” He chuckled a bit, mixing with a deep rumble of a moan as he tensed up. He could feel your pretty little pink tongue caressing the underside of his cock. Monster, that’s what you were, especially while your knees burned and stung. No matter to you, all you could think about was making this man crazy about you.

Your chin was drenched in your own saliva, but a satisfied look attached to your face. Satoru stopped rocking his pelvis into your face because he felt himself slipping. As a sex god, there’s no way he’d fail to deliver, especially to a virgin. Then again, with the way his baby blue eyes watched you grip his cock finally.. and start bobbing your head? Satoru felt that hint of heaven he’d never truly experienced.

An electric shock stunned him. “Oh fuck-… this is gonna be fun..” He could barely speak without a groan releasing from his throat, of course it was going to be fun.. But he hasn’t realized that this fun was going to be all yours. He hasn’t fully grasped the concept of you, and that was truly unfortunate. This man’s cock, how pretty and thick it was.. how it had a slight curve… the way it held weight, you loved it. You had to cherish it.

Call it worship, call it using.. you simply couldn’t care, you just enjoyed sucking his cock. You slurped up your saliva that was mixed with his Precum, he tasted a bit too salty but it would do. You spit the naughty substance right back on his cock before slurping it up all over again. Shoving his cock back inside that wet cavern of greatness. That tongue of yours definitely enjoyed his tip more than anything. Swirling it around the pink sensitivity, Gojo could feel his knees buckle. It happened so quickly that he felt like he was going to fall.

Did he want to back out? You were a shitty little demon, he kinda did but he would not back down. He noticed you were a demon when you’d personally slap his weighty dick on your tongue. Only to make a moan slip from your throat when you swallowed him again.. Your throat was so tight, he could feel his stomach turning in knots as he tried absolutely so hard not to hurt you. See, Satoru is known for gripping a girl’s hair but for some odd reason he noticed that you were just a little too precious to his cock for him to hurt you like that.

Besides, he was going brain dead anyway. From being nothing but a whore, he didn’t have much brains anyway, but now he was just gone for good. The room was filled with the gross sounds of gurgling and dry moans that could make your pussy just drip. Speaking of, you were so damn horny that you were using one hand to caress that pretty cock Satoru had.. the other had slid to your nether regions. You played with the pretty, glistening pearl that was between your pussy lips.. completely entranced with sucking on this man’s cock. It shocked Satoru.. he couldn’t believe his eyes.

You were having so much fun.

“Fuck.. stop… shit-.. shit-…” Satoru doesn't really know what happened to him, he doesn’t know if it was your tongue underneath his cock, the slurping, the sucking, or the fact that you were touching yourself at the same time… or maybe it was the moans that vibrates against his cock. All of it was unfair, he didn’t know what it was but he needed to cum… he didn’t want to.

“Damn-…” he repeated, his usual jokes were gone, he couldn’t think of anything or say anything. All he could do was stare into your mischievous eyes as he finally gripped at your hair. Sure it hurt, but you couldn’t think straight either.. you’ll scold him later.

But with such an angelic, sexy moan coming from past his lips, you didn’t know if you could scold him. Especially not with your mouth suddenly being filled with warm, white, sticky cum. It was all so sudden, and it was just as much as the others said. So much came out of him… so much to swallow. That sent Satoru over the edge, that was it… you took first place in sucking him off… but god did he want to rip you off of him. He was overstimulated… and you were still slurping up every drop. Your lips felt like hell to him right now, he was actually jolting.

“Ah-… ah shit.. get off…”Satoru finally caught his breath when you actually did. His cock not yet limp but it was sensitive. But what was more sensitive was his ego, and you were tearing it down by smirking up at him. Fuck, it got his blood boiling. Satoru was not one to get mad and he wasn’t officially mad but he had a smidge of agitation. You really think you could just do that to him? What else did you think you could do?

“You didn’t taste that good but your dick is pretty.” You said bluntly, your angelic facade completely washed away as he leaned back onto a nearby wall. There was absolutely nothing in the room but dusty boxes and a table that would probably fall if you two were to fuck on it. He was still recovering, but he got a thrill just watching you look around.. he just knew you were looking around for a place to fuck.

“You faker… You gotta have about 20 bodies under your belt..” the white haired male spat out, genuinely confused. You slightly rolled your eyes before you started to slowly remove your pants. “Just three.. all previous boyfriends so this is the first time I’m dealin with a guy outside of a relationship..” you admitted, giving him a playful smirk before your pants dropped.. leaving you in your comfy hoodie. But gojo could see.. your body was as beautiful as he knew it to be. “I’m not seeing it. You been with more-..”

“It’s bout’ to feel that way reallll soon”

The way you said that gave him a reason to brace himself. Although, that still wasn’t enough for what was now happening to him. All he could see was a huge, juicy ass bouncing on him as he laid on the cold rustic floor.. Satoru was damn sure happy you were turned the other way, because his eyes… those pretty eyes were just rolling back without hesitation. The second you slid his cock in, it felt like sweet sensations. Those walls were so tight together, like nobody has ever been inside. But, your feet were planted on the floor with ease, and you were just bouncing and bouncing.

The shitty little room you two were in was so empty, so the echoes of your thick ass clapping, was loud. Satoru was damn near afraid you’d break his pelvis from bouncing down like that. But his worries disappeared once he heard those melodies come from your mouth.

“Big ass dick… Course’ you’ll have girls runnin.. but they can’t take it as good as me..” you spoke clear, but your moans were lacing each word. Satoru could understand you, and he could see it with clear eyes. You took his cock like a champ, it disappeared every second into your soaking wet cunt, all brown, sloppy from saliva and Precum. All satoru could do was reach forward and take a tight feel of your ass cheeks. He kind of pulled them just to watch your tight pussy take his pale girth, and your asshole winking at him…

“Damn sure can’t…” Satoru’s words were slurred, this man saw stars in the air as he breathed out shakily. It was hard for him to keep good oxygen in his lungs because you were bouncing it out of him.. The sex was so intense that he was sweating.. and he wasn’t even doing the moving for once. His limbs were sticking to the floor and surely that was unsanitary but all he cared about was your pussy.. oh that pretty thing. The man began to chuckle, feeling like he was loosing it inside your cunt.

How did you know he was losing it? He was trying so hard to keep his moans in, and his toes were damn near crossing over each other.. like he was begging for some help.. he felt betrayed even though he predicted this! He was the one that said you were a secret freak! He was the one that said those smut books probably did you well…

“What the fuck is happening…”

“You gettin harder… that’s cuz you about to cum..”

“No I’m nottt-..” Satoru sounded like he was whining, but he knew his legs weren’t trembling for no reason. You could feel it, your orgasm wasn’t truly there yet but you hoped he was getting there. You needed to teach him a lesson. “I’m so gonna fuck you till you-” poor thing couldn’t even finish his sentence. He choked up, all while he felt the bell being hit. That last bounce you gave him was enough for the snake to take his breath away. His moan almost sounded inhuman, rugged as he splashed his cum in your pretty kitty.

He couldn’t even pull out, he had no time to do that. That wasn’t even an option…

“Till I what?.. finish your sentence..” you teased him, slowly slipping him from your death grip of a pussy. He watched the white substance drip from your hole and it just put him on alert. His cock was still standing, and that’s what amazed you. “Till my buddy goes down..” Satoru breathed out, realizing it was just not budging. He knew he had to fuck you.. and from what all you just did to him? He had to ruin you… and the second you proposed yourself to him? Your pretty ass in the air with that perfect arch slightly covered by that obnoxious hoodie?

“You’re a faker…”

It just had him stunned… he should’ve known when you took of your glasses before sucking him off.. he should’ve known when you’d speak so bluntly. How come he was so right but it was still unpredictable?

“You’re just-.. too good..” he whispered, getting right behind your plush ass. He almost felt like he was torturing his cock by slipping it back inside that warmth of yours..his cum mixed with your juices started gushing around his cock, dripping down his balls…

“I’m gonna tap out again, man…”

#anime x black!reader #black reader #ambw #ambw bwam #jjk x reader #jjk x black reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x black reader #satoru gojo x black reader #anime x reader #anime x poc!reader #jjk x poc!reader

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