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friedchickenluver · 8 months

Text

n2deep | full-length smut | modern!adult!zuko x f. reader

warning(s): sloppy oral sex (f. receiving), 69 position, mating press, rough sex, light spanking, squirting, dirty talk, car sex, implied recording, belly swells, dick imprint, cervix kissing, choking, ghetto ass bondage, breeding, overstimulation, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it kids), rimming, anal thumbing, not proofread and I can barely write dialogue without cringing

wc: 2k+

notes: yeah i decided to post it on here.

•𑁍•

Zuko is the type of person to have and take you anywhere, all he needs is you and your body and the both of y'all were all set. Currently, your pussy is now being scrubbed over the landscape of his face, eating you out like some starved man. He had you upside down, face down and buried against his own burning arousal, hands gripping the middle of the console to keep you from falling forward, knees kneading into his toned chest and your feet being thrown over his shoulders. A familiar sensation of his smooth tongue slapping itself raunchily in between your lips, licking a prolonged stripe up from your very front making it to the very middle of your ass. He sucked in his cheeks rimming around your hole carelessly sucking in your muscles with help of an eager mouth slurping back up and reusing his bubbled up saliva.

You made a screwy noise once he slapped the sensitive flesh of your ass, every pop of his mouth going straight to a throb in your dripping clit. Your stomach churned up the heat of an oncoming orgasm, subtly mouthing at his dick to lap up the stream of precum spilling from the crest of his tip. It didn’t really have a taste, but you were so intoxicated on the aroma of his expensive cologne. It mingled on the inside of your nostrils, and so did his cum that burned down in there also.

He couldn’t help but to make a variety of content noises, continuing to drink up every drop of your ejaculation against his face, feeling a mouth sucking in the heat of his veins. The clashing temperatures between her seemingly cold mouth on fire that raged throughout his cock caused the man to buck up erratically to meet her mouth for more of the gratifying effect. Zuko pushed his thumb into the taut slot settled below her bottom, planting it there inside to lick back down into her actual nub of nerves. Biting it roughly triggered your head to shoot back up from her ministrations, coughing up a loud noise of pain into the muffled interior of the car.

A lip was pulled to be bitten down in the middle of two rows of teeth, humping back on his thumb made your eyeslashes flutter rapidly, throwing your eyes to the darkness of the back of your head. Clenching so hard around the digit made you squirt violently, coating his face with your intense finish. Everything you felt in that moment mustered up altogether in a drawn out moan of desperation. This is the third time you did that tonight and your body was basically convulsing from overstimulation, legs burning and going numb from the exhaustion of your muscles working tirelessly in one position to support yourself.

Sliding your legs from straddling his head, he instructed you silently to lie down onto the slightly damp leather seats below. You watched with your lips slightly parted and mouth drying up from overuse, Zuko grabbed the specific pair of panties you had worn that evening, tearing them apart to reduce it down to one long piece of cloth to tie your ankles together with. An involuntary flinch shook up the nerves running across her body as she gazed at him tearing up her underwear.

Legs instinctively holding themselves up in the air for him, a hand of his grasping your ankles to throw the ruined pair of underwear to bind up your legs along the shape of your ankles, kissing the sides of your feet soothingly to lull your nerves. The kisses were slow and calculated, his still damp right thumb massaging one of your feet as he kissed back up to your wiggling toes. Arousal pressurized within her body just by watching Zuko reciprocating the deep stare of blatant desire, in this small intimate exchange the air shifted slightly as he pulled your legs back with the grip on your panties with the ankles within them.

“Here, keep these in your mouth for me, so you can hold your legs back.”

Zuko took a few hurried intakes of breath watching her struggle to lurch forward to bite down on the thin fabric of her undergarments. All of her hamstrings ignited in a fire of stretch bringing her legs down in the mostly uncomfortable position he guided her into, wincing in acute pain, not noticing how a hand pushed her feet back to lift up her lower half to properly angle himself up to her gaping entrance. He cursed sliding straight into nothing but tightness, he had to ground your hips to keep from jerking away from the renewed connection.

Lumps balled up amongst the canals of her throat, she braced herself for his experimental movements at the edge of her pussy. Zuko had to place his hands digging into the seat on his left side in order to back up his starting pace up into her. Sinking down into her from above, reclining on one foot that dug into the carpet interior of the humid car, the other knee profoundly rubbing into the groaning material of the leather.

Throwing his head back with a long noise of satisfaction, he dipped your thighs back further until they were flush in contact with your contracting abdomen. His thrusts had you fumbling your words and choking on your drool, deep sighs excused as hushed whines. Syllables of all sorts fell from the corner of your mouth with the small starter trail of drool seeping out from your mouth. Suctioning slaps filled up the drums of your ears, easing their way to a faster pace. Zuko was known to have such impatience but god did his impatience know how to please you.

With each and every plop downwards, he exhaled nearly laboriously as sweat condensed around his hairline. Windows began to fog up from the heat of their bodies melding together deliciously, getting more and more reckless by the second he scooted his other foot to prop himself up on the creaking seat.

“That’s right, take this dick pretty girl.”

Nothing but an array of exaggerated moans and whines filled the silence of the car, and sobs that accented his hips landing down to drill through the gummy barriers of your sex. Your breasts bouncing around lewdly created another sight for Zuko to bask in as he never let up plowing inside of her.

Surely, the car had started to rock from his pace ricocheting throughout the entirety of the situation surrounding you two.

“Fuuck me!” You snarled out despite your underwear restricting your mouth, hands flying to scratch at his forearms possibly drawing blood from your nails burrowing past the thin layer of his milky skin. A slimey mixture of your wetness and his blossoming precum combined into a bubbly, translucent blend, his aggression splashed the fluid all over the contents of the car and themselves.

He’d fuck it so voraciously you couldn’t differentiate if you were peeing or squirting actively, whatever, the only thing on your mind was telling him how good his dick is. How his dick is the only one ever meant for you, each time you reassure that what he was doing was perfect, his length would hammer in your walls so good as physically possible. Zuko reached through your open legs to push downward on your throat to let him stand up a little more on his feet to beat down in your soaking wet pussy.

Instantly, the makeshift bound flew from your mouth as you screamed his name like a thousand times over, gritty noises of wailing cries from your soul itself as you tried to shove him out of you. Head slamming down on the door handle from him nailing down on your cluster of nerves just up behind your clit, you could’ve cried from the view of your juices spraying all over his gorgeous body. Your insides felt mixed around, reaching new depths you had no knowledge of being there. The swell of your stomach came from the sheer girth of his massive fucking shaft, rearranging the layout of your guts with such vigor.

“So fuuucking wet, so fucking- good. Cum on it f’me doll.”

His dick’s print bulging out on the inside of your stomach caused your vision to churn, unrhythmic moans in obscene noises displaced from his plunges forward. Zuko sped up impossibly faster, spanking down the underside of your ass with his pelvis viciously. It’s obvious there were some bright red mark down there, you’re now at the peak of your overstimulation twitching and jerking your body around the sticky leather from your sweat and never ending fluids. The jerks came in sprodiac groups, legs shaking violently in the air from sheer muscle exhaustion.

Deciding that you were literally at the crest of passing out, you rapidly tapped on the seat beside you to signal to Zuko that you were trying to tap out this round. Before you could even sit upright to remove yourself from him with slight movements, he hooked your legs with the aid of his powerful arms to pin you down altogether with most of his body weight.

“No, don't run now, I’m not finished with you yet.”

Oh if only you could even grasp at how pitiful of a wail that was punched out from you was, you were genuinely burning from a plethora of emotions, sensations, thoughts, words. It was crazy how he had you at his mercy and his will, if heat wasn’t already there it definitely came to wash in another wave over you. It all felt absolutely amazing on the precipice of an orgasm so great you’d think you died and went to heaven for the first time.

The blood that circulated throughout your veins ran freezing cold, eyes shooting open with your pupils narrowed and thin, back arching up into something practically inhumane. Your body spasmed out vehemently, yet nothing fell from your mouth, just silence for the moment of your climax. And so you officially collapsed back down onto the backseat, limbs all going into a limp jelly feel.

She continued to loudly moan, regardless of her finish, Zuko still hasn’t had his own fill yet. He rutted into her body to fuck her deeper against the material of the seats, thrusts growing reckless and overwhelming in pure force. The pure white ring of her finish accumulated around the base of his cock as he drove it a good inch further every single time he rocked back inside. Their combined fluids grew sticky from Zuko churning them into a disgruntled pulp, the micro-strings of ot all sticking to their bodies, mixing with sweat.

It wasn’t long until after a few more strokes that he came wholly, pressing down on your stomach to cave in his cum in the depths of your womb. Zuko groaned rather quietly, but loud enough for you to hear. The couple’s noises of gratification in sync as she squirted another few times.

Your eyes glittered as you checked out the state of the car in all of its glory, the windows were well fogged over, clothes thrown anywhere haphazardly, and the seat was completely covered in a puddle. The way your entire body quaked rapidly as he withdrew with a loud suction noise, a quiet chuckle came from above you, gaining your attention as he reached for his phone left in the driver’s seat.

“You mind?” Zuko said with a gentle, tired smile. You returned the warm visage, flipping over on your stomach to arch your lower half up in front of him. The flash flickered on illuminating the internal dark aesthetics of the Bentley they were currently in, preparing themselves for another senseless round. His essence leaked down the innermost parts of your thigh as he positioned himself up at your entrance, grabbing a handful of your ass.

────bloopers

“You owe me a shit ton of Chick fil a for what you just put me through.”

“Why not Wendy’s? It’s ch-“

“Don’t play with me Zuko.”

#atla zuko #fire lord zuko #avatar the last airbender #fanfic #zuko x reader #zuko x black reader #firelord zuko x reader #zuko x you #zuko smut #firelord zuko #zuko x y/n #kinktober 2023 #[𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫‗ ❍]#smut #like a bit over the top lols .#✧*̥˚ [works] *̥˚✧

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alwaysmicado · 6 months

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keep you warm

1.3k | Joel Miller x f!reader | one-shot

post-outbreak, established relationship, pregnancy Summary: You reveal to Joel that you are carrying his child. He vows to keep you both safe and warm, always. A/N: This fic is a bit different from the things I've posted so far and it was so much fun to write. I put my heart (and tears) in it and I hope it will bring you as much comfort as it did me. 🤍 masterlist

There are darknesses in life and there are lights, and you are one of the lights, the light of all lights. - Bram Stoker, Dracula

The car engine growls softly as it cruises down the winding road, surrounded by a kaleidoscope of autumnal hues.

Joel has his hands placed firmly on the wheel as he glances over at your sleeping form, your silhouette painted in the warm glow of the sunset. The air inside the car is filled with a comfortable silence, the weight of your continued journey hanging in the atmosphere.

As you navigate through the autumn landscape, daylight begins to fade, casting long shadows that sway with the curves of the road. Joel steals a glance in the rearview mirror, squinting against the diminishing light. The forest on either side of the road stands like a wall of rust and amber, a silent observer to your passage.

You stir in your sleep, a soft moan escaping your lips. Joel reaches, caressing your cheek gently, tracing a promise with tenderness he thought long gone.

Until he met you.

A few miles ahead, Joel spots a fitting spot by the edge of the forest. He eases the car to a stop, gravel crunching beneath the tires. The engine hums into silence, leaving only the rustling of leaves and the fading whispers of the day.

“We’re here, darlin’.”

Your eyes flutter open to Joel’s soft touch, his hand brushing away the remnants of sleep. You both step out, the cool evening air enveloping you like a gentle embrace.

Setting up camp unfolds as a familiar routine. Joel sparks a small fire, the flames dancing in the encroaching darkness. The scent of burning wood mixes with the crisp fall air, creating an ambiance that is both comforting and hauntingly beautiful. You arrange your sleeping bags near the fire, a makeshift sanctuary in the wilderness.

As you sit by the fire, the warmth casting a soft glow on your faces, Joel pulls out two cans of beans and some beef sticks. You eat in companionable silence, the crackling of the fire punctuating the stillness.

Yet, Joel can’t help but notice the subtle changes in you—grimaces and absent-minded belly rubs.

He sets his half-eaten bowl down, a subtle tension settling into the contours of his expression as he watches you closely. “You ain’t lookin’ too good, honey,” he notes, his voice laced with concern, slicing through the ambient crackling that reverberates in the air. “Somethin’ not sittin’ right?”

Gazing at Joel across the fire-lit expanse, his weathered face bathed in the flickering glow of the dancing flames, your heart swells with love—and dread.

You clutch your belly as you double over, a sudden, strong wave of nausea overcoming you. Startled, Joel’s eyes widen, but he reacts instinctively, abandoning all else to rush to your side.

With a tender urgency, he crouches beside you as you vomit, his hands moving intuitively to cradle your back. His voice, usually rugged and steady, softens into a soothing cadence. “Easy now, darlin’,” he murmurs, rubbing comforting circles on your back. “I’m right here.”

Your body tenses with each convulsion, tears mingling with the involuntary heaves, but Joel’s steady hands and reassuring words calm you.

As the waves of nausea subside, he eases you back, offering a makeshift cloth to wipe your mouth. His gaze holds a blend of worry and tenderness, the firelight flickering in the depths of his eyes.

“Thanks,” you manage, your voice still shaky.

“That’s alright, darlin’,” he replies, a crooked half-smile playing on his lips. “We look out for each other, remember?”

Nestling closer to the warmth of the fire, Joel wraps a comforting arm around you. The quiet forest listens, an unspoken witness to the vulnerability shared beneath the starlit sky.

“You gonna tell me what’s been goin’ on?” Joel asks, his voice a gentle yet firm prompt.

You swallow hard and nod weakly, lifting your head up from his shoulder to meet his gaze. His brow is furrowed as he searches your watery eyes for answers. “What happened, darlin’?” he asks, wiping away the lone tear that is tracing a delicate path down your cheek.

The unspoken secret sits heavy within you, a silent burden that has been shaping every whispered conversation and stolen glance over the past few weeks. Each passing day deepens the weight, a constant companion in your shared journey.

The fear of Joel’s reaction, the uncertainty of the world you are living in, and the vulnerability of bringing innocence into chaos weave a complex tapestry of emotions, a heavy cloak draped over the anticipation of a new life.

You have never been more terrified.

“Joel, I–” your voice is shaky and you need to gather all your strength to not break down into a million pieces. “I think I might be pregnant.”

The revelation hangs in the air, momentarily freezing time. Joel’s eyes widen, a mosaic of emotions crossing his face—shock, concern, disbelief, and then a surprising warmth.

He reaches for your hand, squeezing it gently. “Pregnant?” he repeats, his voice softer now, tears glistening in his eyes.

“Mhm,” you sniffle, your vulnerability echoing in the quiet night. “I swear I wanted to tell you before, I just–” you hiccup and wipe away your tears with the sleeve of your jacket. “I’m so fucking scared, Joel.” You look into his warm eyes for reassurance, your lip quivering, your whole body trembling with anxiety.

Joel’s expression softens further, a tender smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he puts his hands on your arms, his eyes boring into you. “It’s gonna be alright, darlin’.” He pulls you into a gentle embrace, the firelight casting a comforting glow around you.

“We’ll figure it out together.”

As Joel’s reassuring words wash over you, a tangible weight lifts from your shoulders, carried away by the currents of relief. You allow yourself to breathe out a heavy sigh and let your tears run freely as you cling to the man who has saved you in more ways than he will ever know.

In this moment, beneath the vast canvas of the starlit sky, you find solace in each other—a fragile yet resilient hope kindling in the midst of your endless journey.

Later, as you settle into your sleeping bags, Joel’s arm draped protectively over you, you feel a surge of gratitude. The warmth of Joel’s body pressed against yours creates a safe haven, momentarily replacing your fears with the undeniable comfort you both find in each other’s arms.

“Sarah always wanted a little brother or sister,” Joel breaks the silence with a murmur, his warm breath ghosting your neck. “I wish she could be here to experience it.”

“I’m sure she’s going to look after her little sibling,” you whisper with a soft smile on your lips, tears silently pooling in the fabric of your sleeping bag. “Just like she’s been looking after you all this time.”

“I’ll do everything to keep you and our child safe and warm, my love. I promise.”

In the quiet cradle of the night, you drift into sleep, the rustling leaves and the forest’s whispers weaving a lullaby for your dreams.

Joel tenderly places his hand on your small bump, whispering promises to the precious life growing within, his words a secret shared with the quietude of the night.

He lifts his head to look at your face, a soft smile gracing his lips as he cherishes the serenity painted across your features.

“You are the light of my life.”

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littlemissmanga · 1 month

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The Slow Stretch

Pairing: Wrecker x f!Reader

Warnings: This is all spice. Rated E for explicit. There's no plot. Barely a framing device. Size kink, like really that's 90% of it, praise kink is also strong in this one. 18+ only please, if you don't like smut please don't interact but do not put a label on this!

Also, lazy writing but Tumblr wouldn't let me use bullets so I apologize this isn't as smooth as some of my other stuff. It is still pretty delicious, if I do say so myself.

W/C: 1,713

Summary: I had a very vivid thought about what a session with Wrecker would look like if you had a harder time taking him. Guys this thot consumed me and then I imagined how he'd encourage you through that and what soft praise would sound like coming from him ... and I became so unwell I had to get this written. It's pure filth. Enjoy.

Imagine sitting on Wrecker’s lap, three of his fingers buried in your cunt. He doesn’t move them, doesn’t curl them to make you see stars. He’s learned that’s how you get too overstimulated too quick.

But he has to prepare you, to make you come just enough that your tight walls can relax enough to accept his much larger size.

So he just holds you close on his lap, knuckles deep in your pussy as he coos at you to relax.

“I got ya, pretty girl,” he says, his large, warm hand rubbing soothingly on your lower stomach, pressing down just a little. It wasn’t much at all, but it was enough to force you further down on his fingers, the calloused tips now brushing mind numbingly against a spot that makes your vision blur. “Don’t clench, baby. Keep them muscles nice an’ relaxed for me. You can do it, I know you can.”

You don’t want to disappoint him, so you focus as hard as you can, concentration cutting through the fuzzy pleasure vibrating through your core as you force yourself to unclench your muscles and melt into his warm, broad chest behind you.

“Tha’s it. That’s perfect, sweetheart.” His other hand comes down to draw gentle yet firm circles directly on your clit, forcing bolts of electricity through you. “One more. Just gotta give me one more an’ I think I can fit.”

You shiver on him, around him as his relentless assault on your clit gives you no other choice than to surrender to the pleasure as he rips it from your body … leaving you perfectly boneless and ready for him.

“Please, Wreck, please. Wanna feel full.”

With a deftness you’ve come to expect from Wrecker, he presses his fingers deeper, pushing against that tantalizing spot just once more before replacing them with his cock. He pushes in slowly, pulling you back so your head rests on his shoulder. He can see your face now, his eyes never leaving it, alert for any hint of discomfort even as he groans deep at the incredible way your walls constrict around him as he lowers you onto him.

Your back arches off him, your legs curling instinctively to give him more room, to spread yourself further to ease his progress. You vaguely remember you need to relax, but the stretch of him everywhere inside you, pressing not just against one pleasurable spot but all of them at once … It’s involuntary the way you convulse around him, the pleasure from one area flaring up before the pleasure from another can even fade.

Never before have you understood what it meant to be so deliciously full. You lose coherent thought, your entire being focused on experiencing the sensations coursing through your nerves.

Wrecker pauses as he all but bottoms out, just a few inches unable to sit inside you comfortably. Doesn’t matter. All he can focus on is breathing. The way your walls undulate around him, the way he can feel the intense pleasure ricochet through your body and into his threatens to push him over the edge.

“Shhh, pretty girl … need you to relax. I don’t wanna end this too soon, d’you?”

You whimper and shake your head back and forth dramatically. Still trapped in a hazy fog, forming words is beyond you but you need to make your immense displeasure at the idea of him leaving you empty and wanting after pushing you over the edge of heaven known.

“Tha’s good. So take a deep breath for me.” Again, his hands came to rub soothingly against you, this time trailing along your sides from your knee to your ribs and back again. You could feel Wrecker’s chest expand with each deep breath, a warm encouragement for you to do the same. So you did. Over, and over, until the tension slowly leeches from your muscles.

Soon, the desperation fades as well. But the pleasurable haze does not. It leaves you pliant and dazed on Wrecker’s lap. You remain draped back over him, but now your limbs hang limp. You trust him to keep you upright.

He moves your legs outside his own, spreading you wide around him. Looking down, he can see how wet and puffy your lips are, so red and swollen around him. He groans into your shoulder and feels his cock twitch inside you. You cry out instantly, but don’t tense beyond a quick pulse he could tell you couldn’t control.

“Take me so good, sweetheart. Knew you’d be able ta do it.”

You hum in contentment. This is what you were craving when you approached Wrecker earlier. It wasn’t just to make the most out of your precious alone time. But a bone-deep need to be consumed by him. And now you were.

“You okay? Don’ go quiet on me now.”

A gentle press of his knuckles — still a little wet from your juices — turns your head to face Wrecker, a gentle smile trying to hide the glimmer of concern in his eyes.

“M’fine,” you manage to mumble. You decide actions are easier, so you nuzzle into the crook of his neck, lips brushing his sensitive skin there and curling into a smile at the choked sound he makes in response. “So fine. So full. ‘T’s perfect.”

“Good.” He pushes your legs together, mindful of the strain he must have put on you keeping you spread open. The movement draws a prolonged moan from you, but it’s gentle enough to keep you from getting desperate again. His thumbs run firm strokes against the top insides of your thighs before circling around your middle and holding you to him.

He knows it won’t be long before the pressure that’s blissing you out now will turn to pain soon. The constant stimulation wears you out quickly. That’s why he loves when you get like this — needy not for how he can take you, but just for him. He craves getting to hold you close and feel you surround him just as much as he sees you crave him filling you to your breaking point. A small thrill runs through him, knowing only he can make you feel this full, this good.

Eventually, once your cunt has completely relaxed around him, when your eyes have closed and even your pleasant little hums have quieted, Wrecker brings his hand once again to your clit. This time, he keeps his strokes gentle, coaxing your next orgasm from you. “Doin’ so good for me. Lettin’ me play with ya an’ stretch you out like this.”

For once Wrecker’s voice is subdued. He’s not whispering, but his gentle rasp is the softest you’ve ever heard him before. It rumbles through you, waking you slowly from the foggy, trance-like state you fell into. Without thinking, you shift your hips, trying to catch that slight tickle that made your sensitive flesh tingle.

And then you do. His rough thumb catches on the hood of your clit, making you clench all at once around him. Your hands fly to his forearms that are caging you in on either side of your hips, squeezing at the intensity you’re feeling.

“Hold on to me all ya need. I got ya.” Wrecker’s free hand flexes under your thigh as his other continues its almost painfully gentle ministrations.

“R-right there,” you breathe, knowing Wrecker is out of patience and you are out of time. With a hum, Wrecker focuses his attention repeating the motion to your exact request. But he keeps his pace smooth and controlled. He knows this is gonna be intense for you. So he’s gonna be as gentle as he can.

The slow, steady push combined with how deliciously Wrecker fills you guides you to the edge of what you know will be an intense orgasm. His steady strokes leaving no question to the exact moment your body will be pushed over. Even so, you’re still unprepared when it happens.

“Let me feel you, sweetheart.”

Every since inch of your body tenses as you seize in pleasure. The walls of your cunt spasm harshly, simultaneously pulling Wrecker ever deeper and pushing him out all at once.

You can barely feel your body. All you know is the bliss that wraps every inch of you in its embrace.

But Wrecker can definitely feel your body. Can feel the way your walls threaten to strangle him and he would happily welcome it at this rate. His hips begin finally thrusting into you as his thumb continues its assault on your clit, noticing the way you jump at each pass.

“WRECK” The cry is ripped from your throat as a wall hits you.

But Wrecker’s attention is pulled by the feel of water hitting his legs. He curses when he looks down to see he’s soaked. “Kark I love when you squirt all over me.”

You can only moan as he fucks you hard now, seeking his release as your body finally offers absolutely no resistance. Absently, you can feel the way you drip around him. Delight zings the edges of your consciousness as you realize to yourself, I was able to take him.

The indulgent satisfaction only intensifies, melting into a lava that crawls through your veins as Wrecker grunts once more into your neck and after two more thrusts, presses himself as deep as he can get to come inside you.

Neither of you move for a moment, too overstimulated and sore. Soon, though, Wrecker wraps you in his arms and, as slowly as he can, pulls himself from you, earning several shivers and whimpers. He coos and presses kisses to the side of your face and forehead at each one to soothe the sting.

Finally, when he’s completely out, you both groan in unison. You can feel the surge of his cum leaking out of you, cooling the abused flesh of your hole. And based on the angle of his eyes, he’s watching it drip out of you on to the floor below.

“I’ll get ya cleaned up,” he offers in a hoarse voice.

You tighten your grip on his arms. “Just … just hold me a little more?”

You can feel his lips stretch against the top of your head. “’Course. Long as you need.”

Taglist: @dreamie411 @wings-and-beskar @starrylothcat @sev-on-kamino @wolffegirlsunite

@secondaryrealm @idontgetanysleep @multi-fan-dom-madness @dystopicjumpsuit @sinfulsalutations

@sunshinesdaydream @wizardofrozz @anxiouspineapple99 @dhawerdaverd @mythical_illustrator

Divider art by @pinkiemme, divider by @freesia-writes

#the bad batch #tbb #tbb wrecker #wrecker #tbb wrecker x reader #tbb wrecker x you #wrecker x reader #wrecker x you #spicy fic #clone thirsting #size kink go brrr #praise kink go brrr

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narcissistshandler · 9 months

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omg! request!! pt 2. of hobie's fic pleasure to insanity(? i think) the one w anal beads,,, the first one is reader inserting it, but for part2, reader taking out the anal beads and fingers him. thats all! hehe thankyouu

𝗜𝗡𝗦𝗔𝗡𝗜𝗧𝗬 𝗧𝗢 𝗖𝗢𝗟𝗟𝗔𝗣𝗦𝗘

✧ 𝖯𝖠𝖨𝖱𝖨𝖭𝖦 gn!reader x hobie brown

✧ 𝖶𝖠𝖱𝖭𝖨𝖭𝖦𝖲 overstimulation, anal beads, bottom!hobie, fingering, anal play, implied fainting

✧ 𝖠/𝖭 this is very short and I will correct any grammar mistakes soon. I hope you like it (part one here)

There was saliva dripping from Hobie's mouth and running down his cheek onto the pillow under his head. His fingers had lost the strength where they previously gripped the pillow and his whole body felt numb, his skin hot to the touch and tingling.

His hole worn and stretched after all those long minutes or hours, Hobie didn't know, he couldn't remember what time it was now or what time it was when you pushed him down on the bed and started sliding each ball from the littlest anal beads to the biggest into him. It appeared to be dark outside, but maybe that was just exhaustion affecting the view in his half-closed eyes.

"Can I take it off now?" you questioned bending over him to get a view of his face. Hobie took a deep breath, quick, ragged breaths which demonstrated how much you playing with his body had affected him, not even fighting capitalism and patriarchy had ever exhausted him so much.

Despite the numbness straining each of his limbs, rigidly curled into a half-bent position, the weight inside him demanded all of his attention. The silicone spheres flattened against each other, filling his channel, his hole that although he could barely feel it, he knew was barely closing by the toy that the contractions constantly tried on their own to expel. Each of those attempts sent shocks through the muscles in his legs.

"Yes, just-" Hobie sighed, "Be quick."

One of your hands landed on the curve of his hip, reassuring, firm. The other's hand touch disappeared and as soon as the thread connecting the anal beads was pulled - even if it was a slight tug - it made Hobie's whole body tense. He could feel the balls shifting inside him, reacting to the pull and hovering there, right on the taut edge of his hole. You stopped. Hobie took a deep breath. And then, without waiting for the air to even fully leave his lungs, your finger wrapped around the rope and you pulled hard, your hand on Hobie's hip doing its best to keep him still during the process.

All the silicone spheres that filled his channel moved together, one pressing against the other in their attempt to follow the pull of the rope and get out of him. His edge expanded and like a violent wave all the balls from the biggest to the smallest came out of him aggressively, carrying with them a huge amount of lubricant that gave the false impression that Hobie's ass was producing lubrication.

It was all so sudden that Hobie felt like lightning went through his entire body, from head to toe.

His mouth dropped open, throat dry and scratchy producing a scream that ended in silence. His legs twitched, feet curled and his hole convulsed. There was a wet puddle growing beneath him and Hobie didn't know if he'd managed to come again, squirted, or pissed himself. None of the options were quite understood in his overloaded mind, it was wet, but then sweat clung to his black skin, lube, semen and saliva creating a disgusting mess.

He was suddenly empty, all the weight and fullness inside him gone, and all Hobie felt was the throbbing - it was the blood coursing through his veins and pulsing in his ears. His skin was on fire, hole opening and closing in involuntary contractions, your fingers passed over the swollen edge like a light caress, feeling the pulse beneath your digits. Your voice was far away, Hobie couldn't understand what you were talking about, even breathing was becoming difficult, trying to stop the violent tremor that shook his bones was out of the question.

Your fingers pressed in with ease, Hobie's hole was open and leaking, the touch was too much and Hobie weakly warned you about it, but maybe the voice didn't even leave his throat. Two fingers slipped inside through the swell of the relaxed edge and wedged between the walls, convulsing over and over. Hobie's right leg kicked out with a cracking sound; an unthinking reaction to the stimulation that was so much it hurt and burned all the way from your fingers entering him, a phantom sensation that Hobie located between sweltering heat, tenderness and sweat; a crack sounded.

Hobie tried to drag himself away from the touch, even though in the pit of his stomach what burned along with the pain was pleasure, desire, a need for more that sent his overheated mind spinning. His cock, wet and softened, twitched weakly in response.

Darkness grew under his eyelids. Hobie moaned like a wounded animal, feeling every joint of your fingers slide deeper and deeper, taking advantage of how easy and relaxed his hole was after taking a fist-sized silicone sphere.

There was no stretching and his inside burned so hard the intrusion was barely felt and yet, your fingers in him were all his body could focus on, nothing else mattered, nothing else... In seconds, verything faded.

#x male reader #x gn reader #x top reader #across the spiderverse x reader #across the spiderverse x male reader #across the spiderverse x gn reader #hobie brown x you #hobie brown x gn!reader #hobie brown x male reader #hobie brown smut #hobie brown x reader #atsv x you #atsv x reader #atsv x male reader #atsv x gn reader

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spiderrrling · 2 years

Text

Drunk On You - Eddie Munson x Reader Smut 18+

Pairing - Eddie Munson x F!Reader

Warnings - eating out, fingering, piv sex, biting, hickeys, overstimulation, eddie being a little shit, me not having this beta or proof read, this being completely self indulgent, porn without plot, porn right out of the gate, slightly pussy drunk eddie munson

Word count - 2.3k

A/N - i dont even think i can say anything, i just love the idea of pussy drunk eddie and i desperately needed to write something :) and a little two post day for you all

Masterlist - Taglist - Requests are open

18+ minors do not engage

Hot salty tears spilled from your eyes and onto your cheeks. Your makeup which had been applied so carefully this morning was not smudged and speared all over your face.

Mascara running down the length of your cheeks with the tears. Chest heaving desperately trying to pull oxygen into your lungs.

Your vision was heavy with stars and your brain was foggy with the post orgasm oxycontin cloud. Your hair splayed across the pillow like a halo.

Eddie showed no sign of slowing down his movements, his lips and tongue viciously attacking your now very swollen and drenched pussy.

One of his hands firmly grips your thigh, forcing you to hold them open for him. The metal rings he wore dug into your soft flesh so hard you worried he might leave permanent marks along your skin. The other one was linked with yours, rubbing soft circles against the back of your hand.

Your thighs were a mess, decorated with a sleuth of hickeys and faint bitemarks.

Eddie ran his tongue over your clit once more, making your hips involuntary buck upwards towards him. He used his lips to latch onto your clit, sucking at it ever so gently just to be able to hear your reaction.

There were no words spilling from your lips, you were far beyond that stage. All you could do was moan and whimper, any sound you made was completely unintelligible. Eddie thought you looked so pretty like this. So totally ruined and with your skirt hiked up above your hips. The sight of you drove him crazy, he just wanted more of you.

He moved his hand from your thigh, letting two of his fingers gently circle your sloppy and wet entrance, only making you cry louder from the additional stimulation. He looked up, carefully checking he wasn’t pushing you too far and squeezed your hand. You weakly squeezed it back letting him know you were ok. His hand gave you a lifeline while your other hand was desperately grabbing onto the bed sheets.

His fingers slipped into you so easily, you were totally soaked, providing enough slock for Eddie’s fingers to push all the way inside of you. He groaned against your cunt, feeling your wetness around his fingers.

You were so sensitive already from your two previous orgasms, he knew you probably wouldn’t be able to last very long. Slowly he started to move his fingers, thrusting them into you at a painstakingly slow pace, trying to once more build your high.

Eddie’s tongue was still lapping away at your folds and clit. His jaw was starting to ache and threatening to lock up, but there was no way in hell he was going to stop. His fingers slipped over your g-spot and she cried louder, hips rocking against him practically grinding against his face. Had it not felt so good she might have been embarrassed.

Eddie groaned at your reaction, his own hips grinding down against the bed, cock rock hard and straining against the fabric of his boxers and jeans.

“You gonna cum for me again sweetheart?” Eddie murmured against your soaked cunt, the vibrations sending you into a crazed frenzy, and you felt that familiar pit starting to build in your stomach as he worked you over. He wanted you to cum again so bad, desperate to see your face scrunched up and your body convulsing in pleasure, knowing that he could make you do that gave him a different kind of high. “Gonna be good for me and give me another one? I know you can do it.”

His words of encouragement only edged you on further, and you could feel his fingers speed up, rubbing up against your g-spot with each desperate movement of his hand. Eddie noticed your breaths picking up and sporadically clenching around his fingers. Your body was screaming for release, desperate for any kind of relief.

“C’mon pretty girl cum for me, just let go, let me see you cum for me.” His words were what did it for you, giving you the final encouragement you needed to tip over the edge. Tears were clouding your vision as the orgasm washed over you, thighs desperately trying to close and quivering ever so slightly.

You looked so beautiful as you came Eddie swore he could cum in his pants right then and there.

A string of moans and whimpers of his name and curses fell from your lips between heavy and hitched breaths. More tears kept spilling from your eyes as you came. It was pure torture, but it felt so good you never wanted the feeling to end.

Eddie didn’t stop his movements as you came. Gently working you through your orgasm, dragging it out as much as he could.

As you came down from your high your thighs were shaking around his head and your hand moved from the sheets and through his curly hair, desperately trying to pull him away from where you were so very sensitive.

His other hand was still linked with yours, squeezing it gently to make sure you were ok.

When Eddie finally pulled away you could see your juices and slick covering his lips and chin. Even seeing some on his shirt, and you didn’t dare think about the mess you had created out of the sheets.

If you weren’t exhausted maybe you would have been embarrassed of the mess you had made, but you couldn’t do anything but lie still trying to recover from your latest orgasm.

“How many was that?” His voice was quiet, calm, and sickeningly sweet. Eddie’s hand moved to grab your chin, forcing you to look at him as he spoke. Patiently waiting for your answer. “T-three.” You managed to croak out between desperate gasps for air.

“You did so good for me.” Eddie praised and kissed your cheeks, letting his tongue run over her tears, enjoying the salty taste of them. “Such a beautiful mess for me, and I haven’t even fucked you yet.”

His eyes were so dark from where he was looking at you through his heavy eyelashes.

“Breathe.” Eddie practically ordered before pulling out his fingers. She whined loudly and tried to involuntarily close as he removed his fingers from her sopping heat. He hovered his fingers over her lips, signalling you to open up which you did without any protest, shoving his fingers into your mouth.

“Taste how sweet you taste darling?” Eddie sighed as he felt your tongue swirl around his fingers, tasting yourself off them. “See why I can never get enough of you?”

When Eddie got like this you knew you were in for it and a couple of days of struggling to sit down. “Absolutely obsessed.” He whispered as he pulled his fingers out of your mouth.

“You think you can handle one more for me?” His question was genuine, he wasn’t going to force or push you into anything you didn’t want to or couldn’t handle. Regardless of how much he so desperately wanted to fuck you.

The erection in his pants only got worse with each second that passed. He was aching to be inside of you. “Gonna let me fuck this pretty pussy?” He teased and cupped your heat in his hand.

You nodded slowly, trying to brace yourself for what you knew was going to come next. Even though you were exhausted and completely fucked out, a part of you wanted to feel him completely filled inside of you.

“You’re going to need to say it, pretty girl.” His words combined with the summer heat was going to make her melt. “Please.” Your voice was still breathless and heavy with exhaustion. “Please what?”

You knew he wasn’t going to do anything without your expressed consent. “Please fuck me Eddie.” You looked up at him with the biggest doe eyes you could manage.

He did not need any more encouragement. Quickly shuffling off the bed and tearing off his shirt and tossing it somewhere in his room to be forgotten. Eddie kicked off his jeans, which were shortly followed by his boxers. Letting the length of him spring free against his stomach.

It didn’t take long before he was back on the bed hovering over her. Reaching into his nightstand to grab a condom and rolling it down his erection. Wasting no time Eddie swiped himself through your folds a couple of times. Gathering up your spilled juices from your previous orgasms.

The friction against your still sensitive cult sent jolts of electricity through your body, making you twitch with anticipation. You knew you wouldn’t be able to last long, and based on Eddie’s desperation he wasn’t either.

With a final breath Eddie pushed himself into your messy heat, hissing slightly as he did. “Still so fucking tight for me.” He whispered, mostly speaking to himself.

He paused for a second when he bottomed out, letting his hips still against yours for a moment to simply appreciate the feeling of you around him. While you struggled to even think as he split you open. You were so full with him it was impossible to do anything but just take him in. He was everything and anything you could focus on.

Eddie shot you a quick glance with questioning eyes, silently asking if he could start moving. “Yeah-” You nodded frantically. “Please Eds.”

He used one arm to keep himself up, the other hand hooked under your knee, hiking your thigh up to your stomach, helping the angle as he slowly started thrusting. Knowing he had to keep a slow pace if he wanted either of you to last.

You were his own personal heaven that he loved to get lost in. And you were still so tight tight regardless of how many orgasms he gave you, or how many times he fucked you.

“Just like that, so good, you feel so good sweetheart- fuck-” Small praises continiously fell from his lips, he needed something to ground him. Eddie simply could not help himself when he got like this. All he wanted to do was pound the living daylights out of you, to hear you scream his name as he felt you orgams over and over again on his cock.

He just loved you so much that when left to his own devices and wicked thoughts he could spend hours simply exploring and toying with your body. He loved making you feel good, and he loves the praises which spilled from your lips when he did.

His eyes were closed shut and his eyebrows knitted together as he focused on maintaining a seedy pace. Moaning loudly in your ear every time he bottomed out.

Your hands were clawing at his back, nails scratching up his pale skin, turning it flaming red. Eddie feverishly pressed kisses to your lips and jaw, drawing out every sick sound he could out of you. It was the best music he had ever heard.

“You take me so well, fuck-” Eddie opened his eyes and they fixated themselves on where his body met yours, seeing his cock repeatedly slipping in and out of you was a special kind of drug that he was hooked on.

Your brain was far beyond being able to answer him, your bottom lip bit tightly between your teeth. More tears spilling from your eyes. The feeling of Eddie quickly threatened to become too much for you to handle.

He had worked you over so many times already and the feeling of him filling you so perfectly was the sweetest kind of torture you could think of. And it rapidly had you building towards another release.

Your entire body was begging for him to touch you in any way, desperate to be as close to him as you possibly could. Your hands moved to his hair, knowing that it was his weakness. Fingers grabbing onto the roots of his hair and tugging as hard as you could. Signalling that you weren’t going to last. “Awe, you want to cum again already?” His tone was a little taunting, and you just knew he was loving seeing you so desperate and needy for him. “You want to cum with me princess?”

Eddie didn’t bother to wait for your response, he was frantically searching for his own release. His hips slamming against yours at an increasingly faster pace. Fingers finding your still puffy clit and rubbing sloppy circles to it, he was so determined to make her come for him one last time.

And it didn’t take long before they both found themselves falling over that familiar edge once more. Eddie continued to fuck her through their orgasms, never letting his hips still, determined to draw out the feeling for as long as possible. Your lips found his, both of them moaning desperately into the kiss as they came. Both of them were covered in a layer of sweat.

“Thank you.” Eddie kissed her jaw and whispered against your skin, his slightly chapped lips scraping at your skin. “Did so well for me, such a good job.”

Eddie pulled out of her and quickly tied off the condom, tossing it in the trash can before collapsing on the bed next to her. Both of them breathing heavily, feeling the exhaustion settling into your bodies as you laid on Eddie's bed.

His arms wrapped tightly around you, pulling you tightly to his chest and letting you stay there until your breaths had calmed down. His fingers gently running over your back and playing with your hair trying to soothe her as best he could.

“You ok?” Eddie pulled away just enough that he could see your face, you were still a mess and in a desperate need of a shower. “Yeah- yeah I’m ok.” Her voice was so soft, almost fragile and her eyes were heavy with sleepiness. He trusted you so much to tell him if he was too rough.

“You did so well for me.” He whispered and pressed his lips to her forehead, just holding her close. “So proud of you.” She just barely managed to hear what he said, already dozing off in the tight embrace of his arms.

18+ Tag list - @obi-wanakenobi @ghoulsgraveyard @xbreezymeadowsx @a-villain-vying-for-attention @meaganjm @ediemunsonswife36 @AMK0127Sadie

Mutuals - @uglypastels @catastrofhe

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arminsfavoritepookie · 5 months

Text

Just imagine vampire gojo being obsessed with you.

Imagine he laps gently at your neck, his moist kisses stinging your delicate skin until your body convulses with involuntary shivers. His sharp fangs lightly graze your throat; you sense the danger they present – their pointy edges just barely touch your skin.

His closeness is intoxicating – your hands, magnetically drawn to the solid muscle beneath his shirt, but his urge for closeness surpasses mere physical contact. He craves to exist beneath your skin. His need to feel every thread of your body is evident.

Through the corner of your eye, you catch a glimpse of his cock straining in his jeans, the outline of his craving hard to miss. You note the grip around your waist and his almost bestial panting that seems dangerously similar to a predator on the prowl.

Only when your neck feels numb under his ceaseless attention does he relent. His lips depart, leaving your skin mottled with bruises — visible signs of his possessiveness, symbols of his claim.

A lopsided smile distorts his face, revealing too many teeth before he hums in your ear, his voice as smooth as a lullaby, ceaselessly praising you, affirming how good you taste, how perfect you smell.

Your heart stumbles when you notice the blood smearing his teeth as he declares it. An underlying threat lurks behind his innocent praise. It holds an unspoken assurance - a relentless promise that he will always hunt you down — he will always be the hunter and you, just the hunted.

You're merely the prey to his predator, the flesh for his butcher's blade, a remedy for his malady. But fear not, Gojo will always take care of you.

Till death do you part

#jjk imagines #jjk x reader #gojou satoru x you #gojo headcanons #gojo x reader #gojo x black reader #gojo imagine #gojou satoru x reader #/priest geto

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i-drop-level-one-loot · 8 months

Text

🎃 Friday the 13th 🎃

Happy Friday the 13th!! Why not celebrate with our boy, Jason Voorhees? This is pre-zombie Jason, which going by the canon of the films, means that he is sexually active (a rapist)

Knife Play CW: Non-con, knife play, minor character death, stalking, mild reader injury, blood, brief urine mention, Jason Voorhees x GN!Reader ❤️

(Reader) didn't know how long they had been running for. The muscles in their legs burned and it felt as though their rib cage wasn't large enough to take in the amount of oxygen required for their escape. Everything was on fire and their exposed skin was littered in cuts, but they couldn't stop. Even taking a second to catch their breath would disrupt the momentum and (Reader) would lose the adrenaline propelling them through the woods.

All of their friends were dead. They had gone to Camp Crystal Lake to set it up for the upcoming summer, and (Reader) had been looking forward to working with children. But in less than a day, all of the young adults preparing the camp were picked off one by one. (Reader) had woken up to the sound of Jennifer's screaming as her life was cut short, her body stuck to the side of the cabin with arrows.

The exhausted (Reader) sprinted blindly through the dark, not knowing where the road was, only aiming away from the camp. They wore a t shirt and pajama shorts, so the branches and brambles sliced open paper thin cuts across their arms and legs, stinging as their sweat dripped into the fresh nicks.

An axe suddenly swung in front of (Reader's) face, barely missing their nose as it lodged into a tree they were running past. On reflex (Reader) threw themselves back, landing hard on their ass and shuffling backwards from the weapon. The man with the sack over his head emerged from behind the tree, yanking the axe out of the wood easily.

"No, no, no!" (Reader) begged, knowing that their sobs were in vain. "Please don't, I'm so sorry! I'm sorry!"

The man stopped, looking down at the person below him through his single eye hole. (Reader) didn't know if he was pausing out of confusion, pity, or amusement, but they continued pleading, praying it wasn't the latter.

"I'm so sorry! You-you're Jason, right? These are your woods? I'm so sorry! I'm sorry, please don't hurt me!" Tears and snot dribbled down their contorted face, blurring their vision and suffocating them as they choked on their sobs.

Jason's head subtly dipped as his eye traveled down from (Reader's) face to their bare legs painted in tiny scabs. The heavy axe fell from his hand, planting next to him in the soft dirt.

But before (Reader) could breathe a sigh of relief a hunting knife was pulled from his back pocket. (Reader) tried to scoot away faster, but Jason was on his knees, straddling their legs before they could shimmy away.

The cold metal of his blade gently tickled (Reader's) thigh. It's tip was pressed against their skin only enough to feel the scraping against their goosebumps, but not enough to draw blood. Jason raised it up to their shorts, the sensation causing involuntary shakes across (Reader's) body. They whimpered in fear, but it seemed to be misunderstood by the murderer. The knife traveled from the outer part of their left thigh towards the middle, sliding up under their pajamas until it poked the front of their underwear.

(Reader) cried out, too frightened to move with the sharpened blade so close to their genitals.

In one swift movement Jason sliced through their bottoms, cutting in open and revealing (Reader's) urine soaked undergarments. He brought the knife back down into the underwear, peeling it off their wet body to examine the humiliated victim.

A blood and dirt crusted finger caressed (Reader), rubbing across their sensitive organ. (Reader) squeezed their eyes shut, unable to stop themselves from convulsing. His calloused touch sent unwanted shocks through their nerves.

Their hands flew to his face unintentionally, lashing out like a cornered animal, but all that resulted in was a punch to the face, breaking their nose under his fist and recoiling back into the earth.

Jason held the knife against (Reader's) throat, warning them against thrashing about. Searing pain bloomed across their neck as the sharp edge pierced their skin.

He didn't prepare their hole, pulling his pants down far enough to reveal his erection, and tore (Reader's) underwear off, throwing it unceremoniously into the forest.

(Reader) couldn't contain their blood curdling scream as his cock entered their body, the only lubrication for their unprepared hole was their piss from (Reader's) earlier accident.

The knife dug deeper into their flesh, holding them down to the ground as Jason began fucking them.

It felt like they were bleeding down below, but they couldn't see anything past the shiny blade. (Reader's) horrified eyes could only see their own terrified reflection.

His thrusts turned erratic and her began grunting as he approached his climax. Wet sounds of precum and blood filled the night air as his heavy balls slapped against (Reader's) ass. Each thrust forced the entire length of his member into (Reader's) body, grinding his pelvis against their's painfully, bruising the front of (Reader's) hips.

Then, his whole body trembled, spasming against (Reader) as he reached his orgasm. The knife finally left (Reader's) body as Jason stood, his cock twitched as a few more pumps of hot fluid spilled out, splattering across (Reader's) stomach.

'Is this it? Am I going to die now?'

(Reader) clenched their jaw, prepared to be put out of their misery. They accepted their fate.

But, to (Reader's) surprise and horror, Jason buttoned up his pants and grabbed (Reader) by the leg, dragging them through the woods.

"Wait, no! Please stop!" They whined, finally finding their voice again. However, it seemed that Jason had plans for them. He continued on his path, bringing his new friend home to meet his mom.

#kinktober #friday the 13th #happy Friday the 13th!!!#cw noncon #cw knife #cw blo0d #jason vorhees x reader #pre zombie jason voorhees #bad writing #thank you for reading #not proofread

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sweetlikehny-archived · 2 years

Note

Can I get a face sitting with Lucifer and female mc??

kink prompt ask game!

Lucifer says bon appetit 😋 🍽

CW: NSFW (minors DNI), AFAB reader, mentions of pussy and clit, language, a bit of overstimulation? (Luci can’t get enough 😳)

You believe Lucifer to be an organized person.

No matter the situation, he’s always been a neat , orderly conducted person. Well put together, in control of everything- nothing expected less from the Avatar of Pride.

So it always surprised you when you got to see his control unravel, and his true urges take over- but you couldn’t help but be a little…hesitant.

“Are you sure Luci?”

“Why would I not be?” Lucifer raised an eyebrow as he kneaded your hips, ruby colored nails lazily rubbing circles on your skin.

“I don’t know…I just don’t want to make you uncomfortable-“

“Darling, how would you be making me uncomfortable if I’m the one that requested this?” Lucifer then leaned in to press a kiss to your lips, eyes half lidded as he softly held your cheek. “Do you not want this?”

“I-I do.” You felt a bit of warmth spread throughout your body.

“Then relax my love, and let me take care of you.”

With that, Lucifer laid down below you, and slowly brought your form towards him. Your breath caught when you felt him kiss your slit, body jolting as he chuckled beneath you.

“Nngh- Luci- ah!” You moaned when you felt him lick your clit, soon giving it a suck before his tongue entered inside you, his arms tightening and pulling you in closer.

You covered your face with your arms, lips parted in a silent scream as Lucifer continued, the sounds of slurping filling the air. Your hips bucked against his tongue, crying out as it went even deeper inside- any restraint either of you had before was gone, his pace quickening as you felt yourself growing closer to the edge.

“F-fuck Lucifer! Don’t stop, don’t stop-“ you begged, toes curling and eyes crossed as you felt him give your clit another harsh suck that left you crying out. You couldn’t focus- had his tongue always been that long- and you practically squealed when he moaned, the sensation sending constant shivers of pleasure down your spine.

Lucifer didn’t let up, even encouraged to go faster as your whines grew louder, bouncing and riding his face as you finally felt the warmth boiling in your stomach spill over,

“I’m cumming!”

Your eyes rolled back as you became undone, body convulsing as you rode out your high, hips bucking involuntary against Lucifer’s face. You whimpered as he held you tight, drinking in your release and only letting go after he had his fill. Your thighs quivered in overstimulation, whining when he left a parting kiss on your slit.

You fell forward, panting and body twitching from the aftershocks, mind left reeling as Lucifer sat up and licked at his lips, smirking. “Mm, delicious.”

You were a bit embarrassed by his words, and you went to hide your face in the pillow- but he already stole it away before you got the chance, always the sadistic one. “There’s no need to hide- did you enjoy yourself?”

“Ye-yes, I did.”

“Good. I told you there was nothing to be concerned about.” His smile was genuine and his words were truthful, but there was something about it that still had you a bit on edge- like an underlying sense of…danger? Not life-threatening, but-

You gasped when you felt his fingers prod at your pussy once more, brushing your clit and chuckling at your reaction. His smile soon turned into a smirk, eyes growing darker, “Now then, let’s continue, yes?”

Judging by how strained his pants were, it seemed like he didn’t want to waste another moment.

“The night is far from over.”

#kink prompt list ask game 🔥#😈💜: obey me #obey me smut #obey me lucifer smut #lucifer smut #obey me lucifer x reader smut #obey me x reader smut #obey me x f!mc smut #obey me x female reader smut #obey me afab reader smut

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extraordinari1y-ordinary-writer · 4 months

Note

HIIII, can I request cockwarming w thor odinson?

Pairing: Thor x fem!reader

Summary: Thor wants to see how long you can last.

Content Warning: NSFW; cockwarming; some stimulation; some language; Thor is a big boy; orgasms?; fluff, maybe; rushed ending; whatever else I failed to mention.

Word Count:

Notes: Was this requested? Yes! I'd like to thank <anonymous> for the request. I hope you like it! I'll come back here and there to make some edits where it's necessary. Any gifs or pictures I use are not mine.

Gentle reminder that I am always open for feedback! 💕

MNDI (18+)

Thor watches as you squirm and whimper as his hardened length brushes against the soft folds of your core. He coats himself in your arousal, his hands gripping your hips tightly. You're desperate for him, but he's in a teasing mood.

Thor leans forward, your back pressed flush against his chest, and nips along your neck and shoulder before nibbling on your earlobe. When he speaks, his voice is low and husky, "Don't move, my love. You move, you don't cum." You let out another whine when he stops his ministrations. When he asks again, a growl underlining his words, you moan and nod.

Thor aligns with your entrance and gently pushes into your fluttering core. You gasp and clench around him. He's big, sinfully so. The stretch is painful but pleasurable. He buries his face in your neck, his breathing labored. You're tight and wet and you feel so good.

Thor has a tight grip on your waist and hips to hold you in place. It doesn't stop you from clenching around him. It's practically involuntary. Your head falls back and you're desperate for some friction. But his words are ringing in the back of your foggy mind, so you're trying to regain some control.

Thor is trying to focus on anything but the feel of you wrapped around him. He's trying his damndest, but you're too irresistible.

Thor ultimately gave up. He's growling as he ruts and grinds you down on him. Your cries get higher in pitch. You arch your back as you try to grab at something—anything.

Thor moves one hand between your legs and starts an assault on your clit. His movements are rough and quick, and you all but convulse from the pleasure and sensation. You're cursing, one hand fondling your breasts as the other grips his arm. "More," you cry. "Please, I need more! I need—"

Thor stops rutting and removes his hand from between your legs. "Need what?" he pants. You clench around him and he stifles a groan. "Words," he hisses.

"I need you."

Thor thrusts into you like a starved animal. He can hear the sound of skin slapping against skin. He buries his face in your neck and starts suckling and nibbling on the soft skin.

Thor cherishes every sound that comes out of your mouth. When your highs wash over the two of you, you're both left breathless.

Thor gently lifts you off him and proceeds to clean you up. He's sweet and gentle with you, giving you soft kisses and whispered "you were so good" and "such a pretty girl."

Masterlist

Taglist: @staria9100 @radcollectivesoul @cuddlefishextrodinaire @ramielll @lelialynn @identity2212 @whiminiferous @gracescor3 @winterslove1917 @hailycheyenne @dp-marvel94 @queerponcho @mystrawberrynigt

#thor x reader #avengers #avengers x reader #marvel #marvel cinematic universe #marvel x reader #marvel cinematic universe x reader #thor odinson #thor #smut

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stepfordboys · 10 months

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The Perfect Boy (Written by RiderVitalli. Revamped by me.)

Dylan had been such a nuisance on my street for as long as I can remember. His parents worked too hard to provide for their family that they didn't have time to raise him properly. It wasn't their fault when he'd fallen in with the wrong crowd, becoming a menace to our neighborhood. But that would change the day he decided to vandalize my prize-winning front lawn, destroying years of hard work and effort, all in the name of "fun."

I caught him in the middle of the night, using his bike to tear up my grass, he'd carved the word "fag” deeply into the dirt, and upon further investigation, I found he'd torn up my flower-garden, toilet-papered my pear tree, even spray painted vulgar shapes and anarchy symbols on my newly paved driveway.

I'll admit it; I blew a fuse! I promised myself I'd never use my incredible gift for revenge, but this was too much. A wave of power rushed across the lawn and bowled him over; his body flopped into the dirt he'd ground up. Seeing his body short-circuit, twitching and writhing as his nervous system overloaded, I knew I'd messed up. Now the only thing to do was drag him inside before the neighbors woke up for their morning routines.

I didn't know what I was going to do at first. I laid him on the cold tile floor in my kitchen, solely so I wouldn't get his filth on furniture or carpeting. His body convulsed a little, but the main effects of the blast had worn off. If I'd left him alone for any longer, he'd wake up with an incredible headache, muscles sore from involuntary spasms, but otherwise, he'd be fine in a few days.

But then I had an idea creep into my head… Could I let this delinquent go only to repeat his mischief on some other innocent neighbor? No. I had to solve this issue while I had the chance. This sad excuse of a boy would no longer be a problem after I'd finished with him. The mental image I'd conjured was perfect in every way, but I doubt he'll like it much.

I looked down at him, breathing heavily but out cold. His body splayed in an awkward position. He'd lost a shoe somewhere, and his shirt had been torn as I dragged him. The clothing choice was appalling; his shirt was covered in silkscreened pot leaves and other paraphernalia, his shorts were baggy, the entire length covered in pockets which, after a short search, were found full of little baggies, papers, lighters, and his wallet, a little chain hooked to his belt as if the 2 dollars and his school ID were worth protecting.

I used a damp cloth to clean up some of the dirt and propped him up on one of my kitchen chairs, using a little of my power to control his body, making it impossible for him to move anything from the neck down. His head lolled forward, his chin resting on his chest. Then, with a nudge to his incapacitated mind, he awoke with a gasp and groaned when the soreness and migraine hit him. He tried to move; I saw his fingers twitch a bit on the armrests, then his eyes widened, and he looked around and yelled for help when he saw who was sitting across from him.

He shouted over and over; again, his fingers, the only thing he was able to move, twitched. Finally, after a few minutes, he calmed down a bit, panting, and begged me to let him go. I explained that I would, but he needed a little lecture first. Shouting again, this time with more force and vulgarity, he demanded freedom and threatened to tell the cops. His arguments were quelled when I explained that he'd send himself to jail if he tried after vandalizing my yard.

Some thought, and he finally went quiet, listening to me. I went on and on about his behavior and how he terrorizes our little community. He seemed proud, even happy that his efforts had been noticed, which made me angrier. I think he could feel the spark of control hit him, his head throbbing, his eyes glazed, and he fell silent. That's when I let loose.

Once inside his head, I read every thought, emotion, and memory in seconds. I knew exactly who this boy was down to the very core. I felt sorry for him. He only wanted acceptance and for someone to acknowledge him. Until now, his family was too busy keeping up with their lifestyle and working to build a decent living to pay attention to their little boy.

They never neglected him; they were good to him, giving him everything he needed and even trying to make him happy with new things, toys, and video games. But he wanted more. Not material things. He wanted to feel like he was necessary, and that's where his gang of rampant delinquents came in.

They pried him out of his shell and let him experience being wanted and needed. He was their fall guy, always able to get out of trouble and their best place to hide the more illegal things. He still looked innocent, so most authorities wrote him off as harmless. That's why he had pockets full of it when I searched.

I could see why he is the way he is now. But I still had to fix him. To solve our neighborhood problem, and now I know how! He craves acceptance, attention, and feeling needed and wanted; I'd give it to him! But I knew he wouldn't like it. His whole childhood and up to now had trained him to be a rebel. His brain was wired to "fuck the police" and to run or fight authority. It was in his blood, his DNA now. Changing him the way I planned would be torture for him! But it'd teach him a lesson! Kill two birds with one stone!

He was still lost in deep unconsciousness, and a line of drool dribbled down his shirt, so I took my time. I didn't change his memories or how he thinks; I left his personality intact. What I did change was the way he'd behave on the outside. The way his body would react to things, he could think of what he wanted to say, but it would come out completely different. He'd be forced to watch as he did something to a new standard. Everything on the outside would change.

I reprogrammed his outward vocabulary, adding educated words and deleting vulgarity. He'd be unable to swear or disrespect anyone in any way. His answers to anyone with any authority would be respectful, ending with "sir" or "ma'am" I tweaked his body language; he could no longer slouch or sit with his legs wide open like most boys do. He'd sit up straight; leg crossed neatly across his knee. He could no longer disobey his parents or elders unless it harmed him or anyone else. And worse of all, he'd do it all with a polite smile!

Next, I tackled his fashion sense. The way boys now dress always bugged me, so I forced him to buy and wear a more formal, professional wardrobe: slacks, khakis, polo shirts, dress socks, or boat shoes. Sneakers for athletics, crisp white t-shirts or undershirts, and only briefs, never boxers or commando, from what I could tell, he liked. This would be one of the most significant changes, so I hammered it into his brain; I could almost feel him fighting back, but in the end, I won out.

Finally, were his hair and his new hobbies and activities? His hair now was greasy and unkempt, hidden under an ugly, worn-out old cap, but from now on, it'd be crisply clean cut, short, maybe military style, or pomp. No, I know what I wanted for him. A "college boy" cut! Shaved back and sides, with a deep part on one side, the rest combed over neatly with a little longer combed over in the front. He'd also keep clean-shaven, trimming up his body and taking out all his piercings, and find that his tattoos would fade till they were gone. The perfect match for his new looks!

He needed some new activities, vandalizing, smoking, and general misbehavior wouldn't work for the new boy. No, he needed constructive things to keep his time occupied! Judging from his current body type, he still needs to do something other than skateboard and bike to stay fit. That had to change.

Seeing his new form in my head, I realized the perfect extracurricular activity! He'd be a swimmer! It takes skill and discipline to be on a swim team, and from what I'd seen in his head, he's self-conscious of his body, always keeping covered. So being forced to wear nothing but a tight speedo and cap would add to his torture; remember, this isn't just to make him better; it's also punishment! He'd also join a track team; his legs are long enough to be well-talented. Adding that he'd now strive for A's and work hard at home and for the neighbors doing chores, I covered his free time well.

I was done. My head was pounding from the effort of all these changes, fighting his mind and winning over. He was sweating buckets, his head lolling back and forth, whimpering as I released my grip on his mind. He groaned, and I let his body go; immediately, his hands went to his head and squeezed as it tried to press out all the changes I'd made. Then he looked up, his eyes a little red, and I heard his mind screaming obscenities and demanding I undo it all, but what came out of his mouth, as his body straightened up on the chair, was nothing like his previous mental statements. "Please, sir, may I have an Asprin and a glass of water, if it isn't too much trouble?"

His eyes widened, and his mind reeled as I got him his request, his hand shakily taking them, and after swallowing the pill and water, he smiled and whimpered meekly, "Thank you, sir. May I go home now? It's far past my bedtime, and I have an early day tomorrow…" His hand unconsciously took his hat off and rubbed his greasy hair. We stood up, and I dismissed him; his last words were, "Have a great night, sir, thank you!" he ran to his house, leaving his bike in my yard.

---

It had been a few weeks now, and I hadn't had the chance to see the boy, as I'd been traveling. When I came home, I found a stranger in my front yard with a lawn mower and water bottle. When I pulled in, I recognized him at once! It was Dylan!

He was wearing an impeccably clean yet damp white tank-top undershirt, a pair of athletic shirts, and an immaculate pair of sneakers, taking a long drink from his bottle and pushing the mower in what looked to be an impossibly straight line. The entire yard looked immaculate! When he turned around, I was looking into the eyes of a completely new boy, a perfect example of a young man. His hair was precise as I'd programmed, He'd even trimmed up his pits, and his chest was shaved bare. He looked clean, aside from the sheen of sweat from the sun and heat, and he'd been working out a bit, the perfect build for a swimmer and the legs of a champion runner!

"Good afternoon, sir!" He politely stated, stopping the mower and shaking my hand. I read his mind; his internal personality was screaming, begging me to fix him, that he learned his lesson. I read the last few weeks' memories and found that his gang had rejected him after getting cleaned up, they didn't want a preppy fag boy in their group, but luckily, he found a new group! The swim team accepted him almost immediately after his tryout.

I'd given him above-average skills and knew they were all good boys like him. I also found that, after the weeks of change, his parents finally showed him acceptance and even praise; his grades were up, he was showing a lot of potential in English, probably due to his new dictionary of a vocabulary, and they let him get a puppy, after he'd asked and promised to take care of him. His life was the epitome of a perfect schoolboy, polite and disciplined, and as he craved, he was now loved and wanted by the entire neighborhood; everyone loved him! Especially since he'd taken to helping the elderly residents, he even had a new girlfriend from the track team. Inside, he was a screaming mess, his rebellious mind still fighting and demanding to be released, but that'd never happen again!

#JD07201990 #stepford #stepfordization

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staycalmandhugaclone · 5 months

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Identity Pt 5

Part (5) of Identity, the next arc of Doc's Misadventures! If you're new, start at the beginning with Touch Starved!

I really meant to finish this arc today... looks like there's going to be one more chapter after this, though... Such is the way of writing, I guess...

Warnings: Minor flashbacks/PTSD, reference to torture, loads of guilt and tension, otherwise mostly just fluff and angst

WC: 3,820

Science disproved the fallacy of “muscle memory” eons ago. The antiquated theory that cells somehow held some semblance of thought toward self-preservation, enough at least to react independent of heightened nerve bundles, now resided only in layman’s speech in which the physiology behind impulse control, voluntary and involuntary motions, and even the sympathetic systems responsible for endless bodily functions initiated by the fight or flight response were simply inconsequential. Whether someone believed their hand jerked away from a burning iron due to the hand’s fear of pain or from the spinal cord’s ability to recognize and react to such acute dangers absent direction from the brain doesn’t change the reality that the hand moved before the individual ever registered that they were burning.

I wasn’t burning. I wasn’t drowning, nor was I bound to some unbreakable surface. Logic told me that the danger had passed, but my body remembered only the agony of being held on the edge of death for what could have been days or minutes for all my mind could make sense of it. The delicate tissues lining my airways couldn’t forget the hurt from that chilled, rancid water, and the part of my brain that held no value toward thought or rationale overruled any hope of overcoming the frenzied panic reawaken by the memory of that hurt.

That first, desperate gasp left me spasming beneath such violent coughs, my body could do nothing more than curl weakly onto its side, diaphragm convulsing both from the effort to clear my lungs of every drop of that putrid liquid and from the simple, consuming need for air that had been denied from me for far, far too long. I felt myself reach toward my face, hand trembling as my fingertips darted over my cheeks, my hair, searching for that mask before it could tighten around my lips once more, before it could be used to rob me of sight that I might find myself even more helpless, unable to guess towards when that water would begin to drown me leaving me panicking anew at every sound, every hint of movement around me.

But there was nothing there.

My legs shifted in thoughtless, jerked motions if only to confirm nothing remained locked around my ankles, vaguely noting that no merciless restraints had prevented me from turning onto my side. Only my own weakness hindered my movements. The surface below me was far too soft in light of the memory of whatever I’d been bound to… The walls around me were too clean… And that voice…

“Easy, med’ika… shh, just breathe.” Chest still jerking with an occasional cough, I managed to look toward that familiar voice, and the depth of mourning that suddenly swept through me left me cold in a way I couldn’t explain. I would find no solace in denial after glimpsing the heartbreaking regret in those golden eyes. My nightmares had been real. Comet couldn’t even bring himself to reach for me yet, hands hovering before him as he forced himself to maintain some measure of a “safe” distance between us lest his presence send me into the same panic I’d lost myself in when I woke to find Wolffe holding me.

I loathed the lingering terror, but seeing how the kind man before me hurt because of my pain… that’s what drew the flood of tears to my eyes, and when I looked at him once more, when I let him see the desperate need burning through me, something too close to a sob escaped him. Free of that earlier hesitation, he lowered himself onto his knees at my bedside, movements torn between rushed and gentle as he pulled me against him, and I readily pressed myself into that embrace, fingers clawing into the sleek fabric atop him ribs, face burring itself into the notch of his shoulder.

“I’m sorry… Maker, I’m so sorry…” He murmured, lips shifting atop my hair. My chest twisted at his words, mind reaching for any way I might convince him that he wasn’t at fault, that there was no way to anticipate an attack by a third party; that his guilt only left me crying harder against him for the guilt it stirred within me, but all I could manage was to shake my head, silently begging him to understand.

“Shh, we’ve got you, med’ika… You’re safe now.” My hand tightened around his shirt, straining to force some measure of steadiness into hitched breaths as I dragged my mind back from that grief and fear if only for the hope that it might grant him some quiet as well. His embrace didn’t waver even after the tension began to ease from my aching body, and I made no effort to push even a whisper of distance between us.

“How-” The first attempt at speech nearly sent me back into a wretched coughing fit, but I managed to suppress it, wincing as I cleared my throat. “How did you find me?” Still, my voice was barely audible, the hoarse words dragging painfully along the raw tissue of my throat.

“Wolffe.” He answered simply, but the moment of hesitation that followed drew my gaze up to find him gnawing absently at his cheek, eyes turned blindly toward the far side of the room. “I… I think he reached out to the… to…” His jaw tensed, mind churning over how to answer before shifting to sit atop the edge of the mattress with a sigh, and I didn’t fight the way he carefully dragged me onto his lap. “I think he figured if he could get the kind of intel we came here for, he probably had some way of figuring out where’d they’d take you.” Oh… my father… I didn’t press for more and nodded as I rested my head back against Comet’s shoulder, pleased to feel him relax slightly in response.

Only then did I begin to really notice pain beyond the burn that accompanied every breath, the consuming ache set deep in my lungs. My left arm was immobilized in a splint, and I could feel the subtle pressure of bandages wrapped around my chest and leg.

“What happened?” I asked, the question barely more than a wheeze as I flared my fingers pointedly. With a sigh, his hold finally began to loosen.

“It was just dislocated.” He explained, thumb dragging absently over my arm, almost more as a self-soothing gesture than in an attempt to comfort me. “You bruised a couple ribs when the gala blew up – got a nice burn on your calf from it. Looks like most of it was just from when you were…” His arms tightened nervously, again stumbling slightly over his words. “Trying to get free.” He finished, voice dropping as though it would lessen the impact those words might have. Just the thought of how violently I’d fought against those damned restraints, the terror fueling my limbs well past what they should have been capable of threatened to draw a cold sweat from me. Still, I found myself looking down to see the thick layer of cloth wrapped about my wrists, clearly able to imagine how the skin had been worn raw and torn in my frenzy.

“And the datachip?” I could hear the cold acceptance in my own voice, certain that it had been lost and all the effort and planning and pain amounted to nothing.

“Safe.” He assured me quietly. “They got the bracelet, but we ended the connection before they could trace it back.” I let out a slow sigh of relief at that and tried to let myself treasure a moment of stillness, to let my mind drift thoughtlessly as I fought to to convince myself that the horrors of that dark room might be left in the past, and that I might find solace in the knowledge that I was still alive, that, despite how certain I’d been of my own impending death, how much I’d longed for the comfort of what release it surely promised, I’d survived.

We were barely a day out from the Negotiator. I didn’t want to think about how everyone would react to what had happened, didn’t want to think about how I’d react to even trying to tell them. Despite the dread of dealing with that impeding conversation and all it entailed, still I was eager to rejoin them, to escape the tense quiet staling the air of this ship; the way Boost and Sinker stifled even the hint of a disagreement, how strained Warthog’s laugh had become. Even Wolffe had fallen into something far too somber, making no effort to avoid me though I could see the guilt in his eyes if ever we crossed paths. I hated it.

When I tread thoughtlessly into the bunkroom, I hadn’t expected to find him lying prone atop his cot, eyes intently closed though I held little doubt that he was still awake. I hesitated for barely a breath before yielding beneath the need urging me forward. His brow cocked, eyes opening just enough to glance toward me before shutting once more as I nestled onto the thin pad beside him, barely an inch separating us.

“Something wrong with your bed, kid?” He asked, voice falling back into what, to anyone else, surely sounded more akin to an irritated growl than the subtle teasing I knew it to be.

“Yeah. It’s way over there.” I retorted, and I relished the balm of comfort gleaned from the way his lips twitched ever so briefly into a smirk. Still, I could stand the silence that followed for only so long amidst the scream of questions roaring through my head.

“Did you know?” It was barely loud enough to be called speech, all mirth from that brief quip abandoning me. His throat shifted, jaw tensing a moment before opening his eyes to stare blindly at the empty bunk above him.

“What part?” The softness in how he spoke only worked to remind me of that terrible guilt, and I suddenly feared it was a curse they’d never be able to free themselves of.

“My father.” He was still for a moment before quietly drawing in a deep breath.

“No.” He whispered. “I knew he was from Agamar; that he’d lost his family to the war, but I didn’t know who he was until you met him.” I swallowed back whatever relief or remorse or regret vied to break me and shifted just enough to rest my forehead against his shoulder.

“Was he behind the bomb?” He didn’t need to answer me. I knew I was right by the tension that stole through him.

“He figured you’d be out by then.” Wolffe explained, as though it might quell whatever betrayal he feared the confirmation might bring, but I felt nothing; allowed myself to feel nothing even as I wondered if I should blame my father for what had been done to me.

“Comet said he helped you find me?” A small grunt caught in his throat, and I pulled back just enough to see the beginnings of a scowl distort his face.

“Comet talks too much.” Wolffe mumbled but let out a short huff before explaining. “I had to tell him who you were – he wouldn’t risk any of his operatives until I did.” I didn’t hear the apology laced through those quiet words. My body went stiff, air staling in my chest, numb to whatever hurt still lingered there. Would he know what my capture meant? What they’d do to me? Was he replaying our every shared word lit anew with the heartbreaking realization that I’d known him the instant I saw him, that I’d chosen not to reveal myself when he’d failed to recognize me in kind?

I didn’t notice Wolffe’s gaze turn toward me, didn’t note the sharp concern in eyes far more comfortable in an impatient glare until his arm wrapped around my shoulders, and I let myself be drawn flush against his side, cheek resting atop his chest.

“He’s made his own choices. Try not to blame yourself for the actions of a man you haven’t seen in nearly a decade.” The deadpan look he shot me was enough to draw a small chuckle. Before I could respond, the bunkroom door opened behind me.

“That poor man…” I whispered, unable to fathom what he must be going through now. Wolffe didn’t try to hide that familiar eyeroll, drawing my attention back to him.

“Ooo, we’re having a cuddle party on the commander’s bunk?” I was laughing before Wolffe’s warning growl fell silent, knowing those words easily carried throughout the ship.

“Boost.” His chest rumbled with the threat laced through his brother’s name, but Boost was already in motion, and the cot groaned beneath his weight as the man hoisted himself gracelessly across us, shuffling noisily until his back rested against the wall and his legs stretched overtop mine and Wolffe’s thighs, hapless grin toying with his lips in blatant disregard for the lethal glare Wolffe had trained on him.

“Boost.” He called again, voice lowering into something far more dangerous.

“Think the long-necks’ll get pissed if we break it?” Warthog asked mere seconds later, his own words nearly breaking out into a laughter of his own. Wolffe let out a slow tense sigh as the pilot pushed his way onto the bed above me, forcing the both of us to shift until he’d wedged his torso beneath our shoulders.

“Depends on the story you come up with to explain how it broke.” Boost replied.

“The Commander already sent in the report – you’d have to find a damn good reason for it to break outside of the actual mission.” Comet advised from behind me, already easing himself onto the too-thin strip of remaining mattress.

“Nah, we’ll just tell ‘em they built it wrong.” Warthog replied, chuckling at his own words. Despite his nonchalance, the instant the bed began to creak, we all tensed, but he went back to laughing openly when Wolffe craned his neck to glare at the man.

I’d forgotten about this. Hunter and his brothers were close, but it was different here. Where once the 104th was a standard battalion, now only five remained. That kind of loss could have driven them apart, ruined by grief and despair. Instead, they sought refuge in what few brothers they still had. The simple act of touch brings with it a comfort that can’t be replicated with drugs or kind words. The innocence fueling the need for that comfort, for the silent reassurance that they were still alive, was precious, and when the weight of this war fell too heavily on their shoulders, there was no one who understood that burden more than the men around them.

If felt like hours had passed before something begrudgingly pulled me back to a weary awareness, unsure at first what had woken me, but even in the darkness, I found the brilliant gold of Sinker’s eyes studying the dark cloth immobilizing my shoulder. The muscle lay bunched beneath his cheeks, brows drawn harshly together, tense breaths so near to breaking even as his fingers rested lightly atop my arm. The instant his gaze flicked to mine, the instant he realized I was awake, that I’d seen him in that moment of vulnerability, his expression instantly softened, but he made no effort to pull away from me.

“Didn’t mean to wake you.” He murmured, voice barely audible amidst the lazy, deep breaths of his sleeping brothers nestled all around me. “We’re still a few hours out – you should get some more rest.”

I didn’t try to reply, mind already teetering back into that gentle release, but I couldn’t forget the initial glimpse of despair I’d seen in him, heart breaking at the reminder of how deeply they hurt because of what happened to me. Without a word, I flared my fingers out, unable to move the limb more than slightly twisting my wrist toward him. His lips pulled into a weak smirk, shoulders sinking beneath of heavy sigh, but he shifted to slip his hand in mine. Body relaxing with a slow breath, I held him firmly against me, chin tucking against my chest enough to lightly touch my lips to his knuckles as I let my eyes slide shut once more. Still, he didn’t try to pull away, not until long after I’d fallen back into a gentle sleep.

Knowing that each passing second brought me closer to the Negotiator, to the inevitability of reliving those horrors first in telling Cody, and then again in telling my squad only worked to drive me back to the brink of panic. I couldn’t stay in a room with them; couldn’t see their remorse and not dread the thought of seeing that same expression haunt Hunter’s face, of the rage that might threaten to overwhelm Crosshair or the sorrow that would weigh on Wrecker… I hadn’t begun to figure out how to tell any of them… what to tell them. What was I allowed to tell them…

It was easy to hope the following day would bring some reprieve to the stiffness with which they held themselves around me, that a night piled in that too-small cot together might free them of that tension, but I was to be granted no such relief. Conversation had never felt awkward with them before, but now they tripped over nearly every word shared with me, as though second guessing if they were about to say something that might remind me the lifetime I’d spent drowning at the mercy of my interrogator, which, in turn, left me unable to think about anything but that helplessness, that utter certainty that I was dying, and the terrible acceptance that I was powerless to stop it.

I’d found myself practically hiding in the fresher for that last half hour, torn between grief and relief to finally let myself slip back into the safety of my armor before rejoining the others as the ship began to dock.

“Still can’t get used to seein’ you in those colors.” Warthog grunted from pilot’s chair.

“It’s been over a year, Warthog.” I drawled, forcing what I hoped to be a lightness into my still-scratchy voice.

“Yeah, but… did they have to go with something so… edgy?” I instantly felt my shoulders tense.

“Sorry.” He muttered after several long seconds. I had to grind my lips between my teeth to keep my breath from hitching, unable to either apologize for my tone nor to dismiss the exchange altogether. No one spoke again until the engine faded into a quiet hum before finally shutting off, and I again found myself loathing the tension, loathing myself for having brought it back en force so thoughtlessly as we approached the ramp.

“They’ve more than earned the right to wear whatever they want… and we do enough stealth missions to warrant darker colors.” I hadn’t meant for it to come out like that, for it to sound like I was berating him, but I was too anxious to restrain that flash of anger, and my heart sank at the heavy silence that instantly followed.

I should have assumed they’d be there; that Tech would alert the others the instant the non-GAR issued ship made its approach and found some way to prepare myself, but I could do nothing more than stare at the collection of eager faces and hesitant smiles awaiting me at the base of that ramp; should have thought toward how I might steel myself for seeing those familiar faces fall into uncertainty and concern upon noting that damned sling that I should have omitted at least for those first few minutes. I should have offered some light-hearted reassurance, found some means of dismissing their fears before they could begin to twist and grow with all the unanswered questions for those past few days, but I had nothing – no gentle greeting nor quick-witted remark as automated movements led me toward them in the wake of Wolffe’s steps.

“Um…” The strangled sound caught in my throat, unable to look at them even through the protective cover of my helm’s visor. “I have to debrief with Commander Cody.” The way my comms system distorted my voice seemed only to worsen the lingering hoarseness, and I tried to pretend I didn’t see the way Crosshair’s expression turned rabid. “I’ll find you after.” I added in something too close to a mutter before continuing after my old commander.

They didn’t follow me, nor did Boost or the others as I trailed aimlessly behind Wolffe into the bowels of the massive Destroyer, unsure what havoc might unfold the instant we were out of sight. Would Hunter be able to keep his brother in line if my old squad told them what happened? Would he even try? My thoughts were too jumbled to worry over it for long. There was just too much for any one thing to hold my attention for more than a heart-wrenching second, and I quickly gave up any effort to do anything more than keep my strides even.

“You going to be alright?” Wolffe asked, pausing several meters before that familiar door. I hadn't noticed him remove his bucket, but automatically slipped mine off in kind as he glanced pointedly toward Cody's office. I’d suspected he wouldn’t be joining me, that he needed to find General Plo for his own debrief, and it was almost a relief knowing he wouldn’t be with me for this. I didn’t want him to hear me try to recant that nightmare when he was still struggling with the aftermath, too.

“Yeah… I’ll be fine, Wolffe.” I offered, lips pulling into a small smile that neither of us believed. He almost turned away, but paused, brow just hinting at a frown as he looked at me. With a quiet sigh, he let his hand trail through my hair to rest gently against the back of my head before lightly touching his forehead to mine.

“Be safe, kid.” He said, and the vainly hidden note of defeat those short words left me floundering. Still my lips shifted around that too familiar reply, though it was barely more than a whisper.

“Still not a kid.” The short breath that escaped him shook just enough to nearly ruin me, gaze darting up to find his eyes ground shut.

“I know.” He murmured, voice rushed. His grip tightened for just a moment, expression pinching with something too near pain, and then it was gone, posture once more portraying every ounce the rigid commander he’d always been as he tread steadily down the hall. I couldn’t move for several seconds; couldn’t breathe beneath that flash of… what? That was more than just guilt… I wanted to chase after him; to throw something or scream, but found myself thinking back to the tense quiet that had fallen around us in the cockpit mere days prior… Whatever it was… the time for it had passed.

Next Chapter

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ckret2 · 11 months

Text

Time for chapter 7 of "Human Bill Attempts To Murder The Pines And Ends Up Their Prisoner/Involuntary House Guest," which will eventually get a title, I'm sure. Featuring: an explanatory flashback!!! And also—angst.

Chapters one, two, three, four, five, six.

Bill liked collecting prophecies about himself. Interdimensional historical records only lightly alluded to his presence, but that didn't matter. History was written by the winners about the losers. Prophecies were written by the losers about the winner.

He liked being so important—dangerous enough that people felt the need to write fairy tales about how to kill him.

And he liked the warnings about what threats to look out for.

The Axolotl's "redemption" wasn't a prophecy so much as an offer—although Bill had learned of it in the form of a prophecy, passed from Axolotl to prophet and from believer to believer until the divine gossip grapevine finally reached him. The stupid salamander never even had the guts to extend the offer to Bill personally. And as such, he knew little about the details—like whether it was a limited-time offer that had expired a million years back, or whether Bill could only accept the Axolotl's conditions voluntarily rather than under duress... or even whether it was true.

Imprisoned in Stanley Pines's burning mind, stripped of every trick and spell he knew, reduced to a delicate two-dimensional shape on a collision path with a three-dimensional fist, he had called out to the Axolotl and desperately prayed it was true.

####

So the fact that he could remember all this was a good sign: he was alive, and he still had his memories.

The prophecy as he'd heard it said something about getting a full pardon by taking another shape in another time—he'd worried that might mean reincarnation, with no recollection of his former life. But no. He was still Bill Cipher. He could pick up where he left off.

Just as soon as he oriented himself.

It took a moment to figure out how to peel open his eyeballs. Two of them, he was pretty sure. He'd expected to be a square or something. Maybe isosceles. But—he rolled his eyes experimentally—he was some three-dimensional animal? His brain registered the sky above as a hazy something-blueish, but that didn't mean much until he knew what kind of color vision this species had. The sun made a long streak across the sky and burned to look at.

He was sure he'd worn one of these creatures before. On a hunch, he ran his tongue along the inside of his teeth—definitely human. His rib cage twitched as he laughed—a bitter hiss, the first time he'd used this body's voice. The Ax had a sick sense of humor, sticking Bill with the species that killed him. Well, fine. He knew more about humanity than humans themselves did, and he'd worn countless human bodies before. This was one of the easiest starts he could ask for.

Now that he knew what he was, the muscle memory came more easily. He sat up on the warm concrete ground to inspect his new prison. Four limbs with five mini-limbs each, no interesting mutations or deformities that he could see, yawn. And human skin came in such painfully boring neutral tones; he'd have to redecorate. He flexed his finger joints experimentally, imagining his hand encased in gold rings and bangles. He could live with that until he figured out how to recreate his real body. The skin was reasonably elastic, neck felt too narrow (he hated how goofy human necks looked), an impressive 20 for 20 arched fingerprints and toeprints (quirky, but Bill suspected the Ax wanted to ensure he'd stand out if he ever got his fingerprints in a police database), head line like a river, absolutely hideous heart line, so-so melanoma resistance, healthy-looking cellulite pattern...

While in the middle of trying to contort himself like a cat licking its butthole, from the corner of one of his eyeballs, he spied a mass of golden yellow filaments dangling from the top of his head. Several internal organs automatically convulsed and spasmed at the sight; white lights and awful gory memories and the room he'd died in flashed by his mind's eye; he felt the flesh on the inside of his throat struggle to thrash around, and had to seal a hand over his mouth to keep from regurgitating whatever was inside him. He closed his eyes to hide the awful filaments dangling down from his scalp but now he couldn't stop feeling them brush against his cheeks and shoulders. For a long moment he was paralyzed in place, heavy breaths whistling through his ridiculous little nose tubes, mentally battling his own body's attempt to revolt against him in his moment of weakness.

This inspection was just a distraction. He couldn't ignore that he was stuck in a carcass made of meat, and even as his pulse pounded in his ears he was marching toward decay. He hated this body. He hated it.

Somebody was going to pay.

####

Bill saw the time police coming around the corner of a crumbling building several minutes before they would arrive. Of all the rotten luck— He contemplated running, considered how far he'd get in a fresh, uncalloused, nude body before a shard of glass ripped his bare feet open, and instead hurried to hide behind a pile of rubble.

As the officers drew closer to the moment Bill saw they would turn the corner, he heard one say: "Would you put that stupid thing away and focus? We're suppose to be on the lookout for Cipher."

Bill's heart leaped into his throat. (He was pretty sure it wasn't actually his heart, but it sure felt like that. Huh. That's one baffling English idiom explained.) They'd found him already? How? Had the Axolotl snitched on him to Time Baby? Was this "second chance" just a petty trick to get him locked up? Maybe it wasn't too late to run—

"But this is stupid," another voice grumbled. "Cipher won't show up here. This is worse than hover car crosswalk duty—"

"Listen," the first officer snapped. "Today is exactly one thousand years since Cipher's death and this is the exact place it happened. Time Intelligence is sure that if he finds a way to return, it'll be on some dramatic anniversary. Need I remind you we've got officers swarming Roadkill County for six months in both directions from his death—"

"I know, I know—"

"—and patrolling on every anniversary for the first century, every centennial anniversary for the first millennium, every millennial anniversary for the first—"

"I know, I know—"

"And if he's going to make a move, there's a high risk that the first millennial anniversary—"

"But the world is ending in less than four months! Why would he come here?"

"I don't know, maybe he wants to watch Time Baby's molecules reconstitute! Our only job is to find Cipher if he is here—Would you put that away!"

The world was ending. That made this 3012. The Ax probably thought he was cute, dropping Bill exactly a thousand years after his death.

Even better: Time Baby and his goons didn't actually know Bill was here. He could still take them by surprise.

Best of all: what exactly had the Ax promised? Something something another time, another form—Bill never recalled hearing anything about another place. He was still in Gravity Falls.

And that gave him an idea.

Bill peeked over the rubble. The officers were so close to the moment they would turn the corner that Bill could see the irritation on one's face and the handheld game console in the other's hands; and he was also beginning to see the fuzzy shape of his own future self approaching them as a plan formed in his head. He ducked again. Only one shot at this. Would a human think he looked harmless and vulnerable? Those uniformed slabs of muscle were two feet taller than him, and he was naked. Check and check.

He waited until they turned the corner, then stepped out from behind the rubble pile, waving. "Oh, thank goodness, the police!" Probably the first and last time he was ever saying that. "I'm lost, confused, and can't seem to find my clothes. Can you he—" He tripped on a concrete chunk, yelped, and had to grab the officers for balance. "... help." Okay. That was good. Extra harmless-looking. He meant to do that. But he made a mental note to spend a few minutes on walking practice once he got away.

Grumpy Officer was looking toward the sky. "Oh." Gamer Officer was hiding his face behind his game console. "Oh dear." Grumpy Officer cleared his throat and said, "Of—of course. We're happy to help, Miss...?"

Heck. Think of a human name fast. "Tomato."

Gamer Officer said, "This entire decade is supposed to be evacuated, Ms. Tomato. Where and when did you come from?"

"I'm not sure, it's all such a blur! One minute it's August in 2912², the next it's... whatever this is!"

"I have family in 2912². Beautiful year," Gamer Officer said helpfully. Bill decided not to point out that, given how linear time works, he had family in every year.

Grumpy Officer said, "We'll get you to your contemporary authorities, ma'am. They'll help you get home." Still trying not to look directly at Bill, he detached his time tape from his belt, drew it out, and hesitated. He turned to Gamer Officer. "Hold on. Weren't Augusts abolished in squared years?" (Darn. Bill never could remember if it was Augusts or Julys.)

Both officers were desperately avoiding looking directly at Bill, one had his hands full with the game console, the other had his time tape extended inches in front of Bill—now. Bill flung his whole weight on Grumpy Officer's arm to wrench the tape away from him, pulled out a random length, and snapped out of 3012 before the officers could registered what happened.

####

The first jump was just to escape. The second jump took him to a ruined battlefield in the middle of the Time Baby War—Bill knew his human history—where Bill could dump this cheap police time tape riddled with temporal tracking technology and scavenge a military tape off a fallen soldier.

By the time he found a tape in good condition, his abdomen, eyes, and head had developed an assortment of overlapping aches. Nothing he couldn't ignore. But it was worth the effort: the military tape was less prone to overheating, more lax on permitting temporal doubles and time loops, and built with standard-issue paradox-cloaking stealth tech. Even if the time cops followed him this far they'd never know where he went next.

He was continuing where he'd left off.

He wanted to return to the moment he died and murder the Pines on the spot—or, better yet, warn himself ten minutes before it happened. But even the best time tape would struggle to target a temporal paradox as complicated as Weirdmageddon; and besides, Bill was self-aware enough to know if he tried to warn himself, he was at risk of being zapped before he convinced himself of his identity, and then he was really doomed. So he'd just have to focus on revenge.

He'd murder the Pines and anyone else in their stupid shack. He'd dig up the buried treasure Pine Tree and Shooting Star had buried in the woods and liquidate some of the gold. He'd fast-forward until the murder investigation was over and the shack was back on the market, buy it himself, repair the portal to the Nightmare Realm, and restart Weirdmageddon in his dead enemies' own home.

He could figure out how to get back in his real body and pop the stupid weirdness bubble around the town as he went. Minor details. For now, all he cared about was killing the two-faced twins who'd dared try to stop him.

And he couldn't wait to see the look in Stanford's eyes.

The cops said Time Baby had them patrolling Gravity Falls for six months after Bill's death. He set his time tape for February 25, 2013. He appeared in a suburban backyard, snatched a bedsheet drying on a clothesline and a couple safety pins from a nearby laundry basket, made himself a chiton tunic, and headed for the Mystery Shack.

####

In retrospect, he probably should have planned the murders a little more thoroughly.

####

June 2, 2013

Bill was put back in the cellar until the humans could Bill-proof the house—cutlery moved out of the kitchen, phones relocated where he couldn't reach them, dangerous chemicals locked away, etc. His cuffs and restraints were removed, he was handed a few granola bars and water bottles and awkwardly gifted a bucket that he received with an expression that suggested he wasn't quite sure what the humans expected him to use it for, and he was locked in.

And at last, everyone could get some sleep.

It was past five in the morning when Dipper and Mabel collapsed back in their beds. With time travel thrown in, they had been up for thirty hours with only an hour or two of napping. And yet, for all their exhaustion, when the first hint of morning grayness lightened the sky outside, both of them were still awake, staring at dust notes and the old wooden ceiling planks.

Mabel sighed heavily.

Dipper said, "You too?"

"Yeah. I guess it's the chocolate shake and pancakes. What's your excuse?"

"Bill ordered coffee for the table, and nobody told me I couldn't have it, so..."

Mabel laughed. "Evil chaos demon got you! You fell for his trap!"

"Oh nooo."

Neither of them needed to admit that it wasn't the caffeine keeping them awake.

"Hold on." Mabel got out of bed, scooted around Waddles—he took up more of the floor than he had last year—and trudged to her suitcase. She tossed half her clothes on the floor, and pulled out—

Dipper laughed weakly. "You brought those?"

"I thought we might need them. You know—being back here, reminded of everything."

Almost as soon as they'd gotten home last summer, Mabel had started knitting throw blankets depicting the anti-Bill zodiac that Ford had drawn. She gave the first to Dipper as his bar mitzvah gift. She kept the second herself. She mailed the other eight to the other members of the zodiac. (The therapist their parents made them see said self-expression through art was a great way to cope with difficult experiences.)

Ford had told them the zodiac drawing merely represented a list of people, like a chart with table seating arrangements. They knew the symbol itself didn't do anything. It held no magic, it couldn't protect them. Nevertheless, sleeping under his blanket had done more for Dipper's Bipper nightmares than any dream catcher ever could. Mabel thought wrapping up in it felt like a hug from their friends in Gravity Falls.

She handed Dipper a red blanket with the zodiac embroidered in dark green yarn, and pulled out her own rainbow blanket with black embroidery. Mabel wrapped hers around her head and shoulders like a huge hooded shawl and slid back in bed, her mind and dreams now properly shielded. Dipper stared at the face in the middle of the zodiac for a long moment, before he turned the blanket over so Bill's ever-watching eye could only see the dark surface of Dipper's bedsheet.

And then, at long last, they were safe enough to fall asleep.

####

Once the day's tourists were gone, Ford cracked open the cellar door, flung a wad of fabric down the stairs, and shut the door again. "All right," Stan shouted. "Solitary confinement's over. Put on some normal clothes and knock when you're done."

"It's about time!" Creaks and thuds drifted through the door as Bill climbed the stairs. "How long does it take to move a few knives to another room? I was starting to think you planned to leave me down here."

"We needed sleep! We were up all night!"

"How is that my problem? I never told you to sit up all night staring at me—"

After a few more minutes of back-and-forth grousing, Bill knocked on the cellar door to be unleashed. The shack household had scrounged together an XL yellow-beige pine tree t-shirt (surplus from the gift shop), a set of Soos's winter sweatpants (which Bill found too long and set aside), an elastic-waisted plain green skirt in case the sweats didn't fit (some old thing Abuelita never wore), a pair of old swim trunks (to compensate for the fact that nobody had the energy or motivation to go buy their prisoner underwear today), and mismatched flip-flops (from the Mystery Shack's lost-and-found).

The shack household had not scrounged together a broom to give to Bill, and yet when they opened the door, he was holding one, bristles pointed up, like a poorly-dressed witch waiting to go on an evening flight. The potential weapon was promptly confiscated, and Stan, Ford, and Soos escorted Bill around to the back of the shack. He stared out toward the woods as the door was opened for him, but it was impossible to tell whether he was looking for something specific or just getting one last glimpse of the sky before he was incarcerated indefinitely.

The moment Bill stepped inside, Abuelita was in front of him, shoving a hot plate of chicken and enchiladas in his chest. "Welcome. You are staying with us for a while, yes?"

Bill tried to take a step back, bumped into Soos, and automatically took the plate in both hands. He blinked at Abuelita, eyebrows raised in polite bafflement. "Yes?"

"Yes. Soos told me. You missed dinner." There was loose plastic wrap still half-covering the plate, which had been labeled in black marker: para Bill Cifra - NO TOCAR! "I saved you a plate."

"Oh yeah," Soos said, "Abuelita put that in the fridge for you before we ate last night. She's big on hospitality."

"Well!" Bill beamed. "At least somebody around here has some manners. Does this come with silverware, or—?"

"Here." Abuelita offered him a plastic orange baby spoon. "Soos says you do not get the good silverware. So you cannot kill people."

"Between you and me, I'd be more likely to stick a fork in the microwave than try to kill someone with it—but hey, I'mnot the warden." He tossed the plastic wrap on the floor and attempted to saw off a chunk of enchilada with the soft edge of the spoon.

"All right, show me what you've done with this place since I last saw it!" He wove past the humans to duck into the kitchen. "I see you finally got rid of that second stove! Really frees up the space in here, doesn't it! Too bad you kept the gas one. I didn't wanna say anything about this last year, but fix that slow gas leak, would you? If you want to get haunted by carbon monoxide demons, that's your business, but I owe a tokoloshe money."

Stan blinked. "The slow what?"

Ignoring them, Bill went on, "You're gonna have to do something about all this." He waved his baby spoon at the fridge and cabinet doors. "You don't want me to come ask for help every single time I need to eat."

"Actually, that might be preferable," Ford said. "It would ensure you can't tamper with our food when we aren't looking."

"You'll get sick of it," Bill said confidently.

He finally freed up a spoonful of enchilada, stuffed it in his mouth, and tore off a chunk of chicken with his teeth—and then stopped, staring down at the plate in amazement. With his mouth still full, Bill said, "Oh wow, this is delicious! You know, I haven't had a home cooked meal in centuries! And that nutty aftertaste? Mm! You're a daring chef, lady. I love it."

He spat his mouthful back onto the plate. "But unfortunately, I think I'm allergic to one of your ingredients!" He held the plate out to Abuelita, grinning widely. "Would you mind giving me a portion with less cyanide?"

Everyone stared at Abuelita.

She shrugged placidly. "It was worth a try." She took back the plate.

Bill licked the last of the poisoned food off his teeth and spat it on the kitchen floor. "Mil gracias, señorita Silloncito."

She gave the floor a displeased look as she passed to wash off the dish in the sink, but merely said, "Un placer."

Dubiously, Ford murmured, "Silloncito isn't Mrs. Ramirez's first name, is it?"

"Nope." Stan grinned. "While you were busy studying the Odyssey, I was in South America learning Spanish—you know, a language people actually speak."

"What does 'silloncito' mean?"

"I dunno."

Soos had been gaping at his grandmother since Bill said the word "cyanide." He finally managed to work his jaw enough to say, "Abuelita, what...?"

"Do not worry about it, mijo," Abuelita said sweetly, pulling out a mop.

"Did you just try to...?"

"We can talk later." Abuelita gestured to the door, where Bill was meandering out of the kitchen. "I clean now. You go with the others."

As Bill left, he called back, "Next time, I'm making my own plate! Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice..." He swept past the humans into the living room. "Hey, you finally got enough seating in here! This place is really starting to shed that 'lonely old bachelor' stench—ey, Stanley?"

"Watch it."

Where Stan's old recliner once sat, Abuelita had put her sofa with the pastel yellow floral print. Her blue armchair and Stan's recliner were lined up at a right angle to the sofa to form a seating area around the TV, which had been turned to face all the seats. Atop the decorative T-Rex skull sat a small vase with a few fresh flowers.

Soos dragged his distracted gaze away from the kitchen to point at the floral sofa. "You, uh... you can sleep on the sofa bed. It folds out. We're kind of out of other rooms. I'm in the master bedroom, Abuelita's in the study cuz she gets her own bathroom there, we made the parlor a guest room for the Pineses, the kids are in the attic... and that's pretty much all the bedrooms we've got, dude." Soos shrugged. "Me and Melody, we were talking about walling off the empty attic area to make a sick gaming room? I guess maybe we should think about making it another guest room—"

"Which Bill wouldn't be able to use," Ford said, "if it has a door. Besides, I doubt Bill will be here long enough for you to finish any large construction projects."

Airily, Bill said, "Think you'll figure out how to get rid of me that fast?" He didn't even look at Ford; he was busy taking off the sofa's cushions to inspect the foldout bed underneath. "Last time you tried it took you thirty years, and you're 0 for 4 murder attempts so far." Bill tried—unsuccessfully—to lift the folding bed out of the sofa.

Voice icy, Ford went on without acknowledging Bill. "And at any rate, I'd rather have him out in the open where we can all keep an eye on him."

Soos glanced back and forth between Ford and Bill as they shot verbal barbs at each other, his fingertips pressed together. "Oookay! So. Sofa bed it is. I like sofa beds! It feels kind of like camping, but without going outside."

"Bet I'm not allowed to start a campfire in the living room." Bill gave up on the sofa bed and looked around the room—and his face lit up like a child who'd just received a pirate ship-shaped birthday cake. "Hey! Is that me?" In his rush to cross the living room, he tripped over Abuelita's blue armchair, flopped flat on the floor, and got back up like nothing happened.

Where Ford had once hung his father's banner from the Royal Order of the Holy Mackerel, Soos had put up a new decoration: a knit tapestry depicting Bill Cipher, framed in apocalyptic lightning and hovering over a sea of fire...

... and encircled by the zodiac prophesied to defeat him.

Bill's smile dimmed. "Ah."

"Oh, hey! That's the blanket Mabel made me." Soos stood next to Bill, admiring the zodiac blanket. "Yeah, she made us all blankets to commemorate our epic battle and everything? She called us up to ask how we wanted them customized and stuff. I suggested the flames and the lightning bolts! Thought they'd look rad. Heh. It's—it's pretty cool, right?"

Bill's gaze slowly traced the confining ring of symbols; and then met the gaze of his own, true, proper face. And he turned away to face Soos and forced his smile wider. "Question Mark, I like your sense of decor."

"Ha—wait, seriously?"

"Heck, if I'd commissioned a portrait myself, I'd have requested the same! Remind me to show you a tapestry the Northwests have been keeping of me, I think you'd appreciate it!"

"Oh." Soos rubbed the back of his neck. "Huh. You know, I didn't think you'd think cool things are cool. Kinda."

"You kidding?! Fire and lightning! I love it! Like a party with natural pyrotechnics! It's nature's way of trying to unleash a bit of anarchy on this bleak little world!"

"Uh..." Soos quickly glanced toward the Pines in a silent plea for help with this conversation, then looked back at Bill. "Yeah, totally dude! It's like... got that boom factor, you know?"

"Boom factor! Ha! You're all right, Questiony." Bill turned his back on the zodiac. "So, what have you done with the rest of this dump!"

Soos stood rooted to the spot until Bill left the room.

He looked at Stan and Ford. "Do you think Bill, like... knows my name?"

Ford shrugged and made a so-so gesture.

Soos nodded. "Okay." He pulled out a chair at the living room table. "You guys wanna go ahead without me? I think I'm gonna... sit here. And process the fact that Abuelita is an attempted murderer."

####

On Bill's first proper night in the Mystery Shack, he woke in the middle of the night, gasping for air so loudly it sounded like a reverse scream.

Waking didn't improve things.

He was back in the room where he'd died, no light but the eerie blue of invisible flames licking up the walls, his vision framed by golden filaments spilling out of his head. He rolled over and heaved on the floor—and between his stomach's convulsions he made direct eye contact with an axolotl, cold, serene, staring dispassionately at him from an illuminated fish tank—and past the axolotl, he saw an image of himself trapped flat on the wall, surrounded by a ring of his enemies, fire lapping at his heels. And it was just like dying again, he was powerless, he could see his body coming apart in his peripheral vision, he couldn't even float, pinned to the ground by gravity—

He had to claw at his skin until this human body's uncomfortable alienness overrode the memory of his gold exoskeleton shattering.

The next morning, the household found no signs of Bill in the living room except for a puddle of dried puke.

The sofa bed's mattress had been dragged halfway up the stairs to the attic, and then abandoned at the landing where the stairs turned a right angle.

They found Bill in the attic, laying on the floor atop a makeshift bed he'd assembled out of sofa cushions. He was curled up facing the wall beneath the seating alcove where, just a few months ago, there had been a window of his face.

####

#bill cipher #human bill cipher #gravity falls #gravity falls fic #gravity falls fanart #my writing #bill goldilocks cipher

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prettypinkpuddles · 2 years

Text

Mirror Sex

synopsis/ scenarios of fucking in front of a mirror; nsfw, the reader has a female sex organ

feat./ Scara, Kazu, Childe, Dottore ⭐️

Scara held you on his lap, using his legs to keep yours open whilst he pushed his fingers against your gummy walls. he took hold of your chin, forcing you to look at yourself.

how soaked your cunny and thighs were, how ruined your makeup was, how badly you were squirming, trembling, trying oh so desperately to get out of his grasp. his middle finger prodding at your sensitive button, you gasped softly and threw your head onto his shoulders, a groan of lust and relief bubbling up from your throat.

The balladeer grabbed onto your face, “did you cum?” he looked at your blown out eyes, finding nothing but pleasure behind them, “i know you did. you’re such a good toy for me. now watch yourself get fucked silly.”

you had no idea why you even suggested this idea to Ajax. you know exactly how he is when it comes to sex. he treats it like a fight; a competition to see who can unravel who the most. he had installed a mirror above your bed, now you were putting it to good use.

you sucked and lightly bit at your lover’s neck, making your way down to his chest, leaving more of your lipstick stains on his skin. he threw his head back with a breathy laugh, a cocky grin coming to his face. he took your chin between his fingers, “you better use that mirror to your advantage.”

he snatched you up, attaching his lips to wherever he could touch, leaving mark, hickey, bite, whatever he could. he switched your positions, you lying down on the bed as he explored your body for the who knows how many times. you giggled but it festered into a moan as a smile came to your lips. your took hold of your husband’s ginger locks, biting your lip to suppress your noises.

he stopped eating your collarbone and closed in on your ear, “look at the mirror, love.” he demanded. you complied, flicking your eyes to the mirror for a second, but then you looked again and soon your eyes were fixated on the two of you.

you stared back at yourself, then at Ajax’s hands. they crept to your thighs, spreading them, pulling them up. he settled right between you, pressing his clothed cock against you. you let out a short winded gasp, gripping onto his back.

Childe kissed your face some and you put his ear to your lips. “put it in. please..” you sounded too desperate, it made him chuckle and grin. he looked at you, “right now? i haven’t eve-” you nodded frantically, “please, Ajax, i’ve been waiting for it all day.”

once he heard that.. there was no way he could deny you.

Dottore had you pinned down on one of his many desks, completely emptying himself into you. you let out an involuntary squeal, a shiver making you convulse for a moment.

Dottore tilted his head as a toothy grin spread across his face, “my, i’ve never heard that noise before.” he leaned down to your ear, “wonder what did it.” you reached out to a mirror standing on the desk’s surface and lifted it up.

“maybe this did it.” you suggested and dottore tilted his head, “how would that do it?” you looked back at him, pleading for him to keep moving his hips. he obliged, his hips colliding with your lower half; you cried out in ecstasy as he thrust into you, a similar knot tying in your abdomen. you watched Dottore in the mirror, he noticed and decided to put on a show for you; he raised his hand and slammed it against your ass.

you cried out and instinctively lowered your back, pushing yourself into him. he chuckled at your motions, taking your chin and lifting your head up. he pulled you back to face him and spat into your mouth. his eyes connected with the mirror and a sadist grin appeared on his face, “i think i see what you mean, darling.”

"poor thing," Kazuha pants. his grip on you isn't that rough but enough to keep you from moving and let him fuck you full. "are you now cock drunk?"

you nodded, groans erupting from your lips, you eyes blown out, a thin layer a sweat over your skin. you were so gone it was almost as if you were drugged, kazu took notice of this and chuckled. he pulled your chin to his face, giving your cheek a few smacks, “honey, look at me.”

it took all your energy to focus your eyes and look at your lover, his vibrant red eyes, his brows knitted, his hair disheveled. it was enough to make you cum, almost. but you kept your focus and replied with a high pitched voice.

he chuckled, “you look so pretty, i wish you could see yourself.” he paused, his eyes flicking to something behind you and a grin came to his face. he gently pushed you back on the kitchen counter, a mirror on the wall behind you. you saw yourself, your breasts bounced in tandem with his thrusts, your legs spread with your feet in the air and your thighs trembling. it was bliss.

you couldn’t help the giggle bubbling up from your throat, a grin of satisfaction staining your lips. you looked back at your husband with your hands on your cheeks, “your right. i do look pretty. pretty fucked out..”

click here for more content by me! ⭐️

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