#OR she FOUGHT her way outta there | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

findafight · 1 year

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Wait. Wait. Kinda part 2 to this post. For the angst of it all. Cw: implied and assumed homophobia

Because sure, after that dinner Joyce relents in not being, y'know, openly confused or frustrated with Steve being around. El obviously adores him and Jim is always glad when he comes around. Joyce can put up with Steve for them. But she's a stubborn woman, and somewhere in her mind, Steve is a Bad Egg. So she's still not 100% on board.

All this rears its head one night after a lot of their world saving group has had a movie night and ended up in a puddle on the floor. Steve is squished between Robin and Eddie, snuggled up all cozy. Joyce sees this when she quietly pads out of her bedroom to just. Check on the kids.

Eddie and Steve are sat up, Robin's face pressed against his hip. They're whispering something, heads leaned close. And they lean in further, silhouetted by the moonlight filtering in, and kiss. It's pretty chaste, though not a peck.

Joyce's blood boils. Steve has a girlfriend, he should not be going around kissing his friends like that, stringing them all along. She feels strangely vindicated, that her assumptions about Steve were right, that he wasn't actually a good guy or had changed at all. She almost yells at him then and there, but holds off. No need to wake everyone up. She can lecture him in the morning.

Once everyone is fed and lounging in the late morning, she pulls Steve out onto the porch.

"I saw you kiss Eddie last night" she says, without preamble. "And I cannot believe you would think behaviour like that is acceptable in my house."

Steve blinks, clenches his jaw. "Jo--Mrs Byers. I--"

"I don't want any of your excuses! It's despicable what you're doing, and I won't have it. For whatever reason, those kids look up to you. What kind of example are you setting for them? For El?" Steve's eyes widen, and if Joyce hadn't been so caught up with her anger she probably would have seen that instead of being ashamed or embarrassed, Steve is scared. "She looks up to you so much, though I can't imagine why. You need to clean yourself up, Steve. For real this time. You can't go around doing whatever you want. It's disgusting and disrespectful. Did you even consider the people you'd hurt? How doing shit like that would affect the lives of people who care about you? They deserve better than that." She shakes her head. Arms crossed. Steve is tense in front of her, but he doesn't say anything. To her, that's as good as confession. "Everyone talks about how you've worked hard to improve yourself, become a better person. But after last night? I just don't believe it. No one who's really changed, really a good person, would do what you did." She sighs. "You should probably leave now."

Steve nods stiffly. "Right. I'll. Uh, I leave. Can you...please, don't tell anyone, ma'am. I'll Grab my bag and I'll get outta your hair, but don't tell. I'm so sorry. Please." She purses her lips. His girlfriend deserves to know, but Joyce has no clue who that is (it might be the Robin girl attached to his hip, but she has no way of knowing). She nods once. Steve's shoulders slump.

Stepping back into the house, Steve quickly and jerkily snags his backpack from the corner it was shoved into before leaning over to whisper something in Robin's ear. The girl nods, looking worried.

He doesn't look at Eddie.

For a while, her house is Steve-free. Joyce breathes easy, hoping their talk was a wake-up call for steve. He is painfully polite when they bump into each other, Robin usually by his side with a strained customer service smile. Small talk is non-existent.

But then Will starts getting quieter. Maybe avoiding her. Certainly does his best to be small and doesn't look in her eyes. She has no idea what's going on, and she's worried.

What if the Upside Down came back? What if there's something wrong with her boy? What if everything they've fought for and sacrificed didn't mean anything and it's never actually over?

She tries to talk to him, but he shrugs her off, says he's fine and not to worry about it. Assures her it is definitely not the Upside Down.

Finally, after two weeks of Will looking absolutely miserable when he talks to her, she gets Jonathan to try. Tension around the house is high, Steve is barely around and always skitters away when he sees her, and in combination with will, it's out everyone on edge.

She doesn't mean to eavesdrop. But she doesn't not mean to either. It's just that they're on the porch, and she was in the kitchen and heard something, and when she went to see, she heard them talking.

"it's not--i want to tell you but it's not my secret to tell."

Jonathan sighs. "Will. I can't help if I don't know what's wrong. Please. Talk to me. I'll love you no matter what, you know that."

Will heaves a breath. "I had a talk with Steve --" and oh, the rage in Joyce's chest when she hears that. What did he say to her boy?? "And...uhg. fuck. Okay, you have to swear, swear! You're not going to tell anyone what I'm going to tell you. If you figure it out, because I don't. It's not mine to tell."

"okay. I swear. I won't go spilling Steve's secrets."

"you have to mean it, Jonathan. It's dangerous!"

There's ruffling fabric. Jonathan's voice is softer. "I promise."

"Steve said he was telling me because he thought we might be...similar. In some ways. And he talked about who he's dating. And that Hopper and El and Robin and Eddie know. And that they're all safe. Y'know? Like you are."

"okay..."

"and I said you were, and he said that was really good, and then emphasized that if I ever wanted like, and actual grown up to talk to, not just another teenager, Hopper was safe. But. The way he said it made it seem like...I don't know, but something was off? And I asked him." There's a pause. "I asked him if Mom knew. And he said yes. But he hadn't... Before that, he hadn't said she was safe. Jonathan..."

Something...wasn't adding up. Joyce was trying to puzzle what she wouldn't be safe to talk to about. She'd been in the tunnels and Upside Down and through it all. Her children, and by extension the children that had helped save them, were always safe in her house. To come to her if they felt unsafe. Why Steve would tell her own son she wasn't --

Will continued. "Steve said that it'd probably be different because I'm her kid, y'know? She--she did all this stuff to get me back and to keep me safe and loves me. So she could. So she'd maybe change her mind. For me."

"Will..." Jonathan's voice sounds pained.

"but what if she's not? What if that's where it ends? Shell save me from a demogorgon but not love me for this. Steve's saved my friends half a dozen times, Jonathan! He got--he got tortured" that is not something Joyce knew. When the hell did that happen? "with Robin to protect Dustin and Erica, Billy beat him half to death when he stepped in to protect Lucas and Max! He's good! I'm not as close to him as the others but he still told me. He trusted me enough with a secret that I can't even say outloud about myself yet! And Mom still-" will hiccups, and Joyce wishes she knew what he was talking about. Wishes he was saying these things to her, so she could comfort him.

Heaving a breath, Will is quieter. "Steve's the reason no one's died. He's El's first brother. And she still called him disgusting for-- for kissing someone he loves."

Ice fills Joyce's veins, a heavy pit balls in her stomach. Because that's not--she didn't--it wasn't like that.

But Steve had begged her not to tell anyone. Had stood still and not tried to justify anything and called her ma'am when he asked her not to tell. Held himself still when she was around and bolted at the first possible opportunity, leaving disappointed people in his wake. Oh, shit. Oh, she's fucked up so badly. Hurt some kid because she was suspicious of him from over three years ago and assumed the worst. Instead of realizing that maybe the reason he and his girlfriend were keeping it quiet was because he didn't have a girlfriend at all, and that the boy he kissed that night was his boyfriend, she had just assumed he was cheating. And then she'd told him he was disappointing and disgusting and a bad influence on the kids. Even after, he still made sure Will knew there were safe people around, that he'd have someone to talk to. And all she'd done was make him scared of her.

"oh, buddy."

Will's voice is muffled, and Jonathan has probably pulled him into a hug. It cracks when he speaks. "how can she say that about Steve but still love me? When so much of this shit's been my fault?"

"none of this is your fault. Don't believe that, will. No one blames you or El for any of it. You know that, right?"

"okay..."

"it's true. And as for mom...I don't know." Jonathan huffs "I'm not sure. I'm sorry, buddy."

Joyce turns then, feeling sick. She shouldn't have eavesdropped on her children, but now she had she was going to make things right. Hopefully.

Ensure everyone, including Steve, knew she was safe.

Part 3

#joyce byers #will byers #steve Harrington #jonathan byers #steddie #stranger things #steve and el #is implied its more in the first bit #finda writes stuff #finda's rambles #misunderstanding #implied homophobia #joyce doesn't like steve au #add the part 3/part 2.5 link two days later sorry pals

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rafescurtainbangz · 2 months

Text

Proactive Type of Person - Rafe Cameron Two Shot - Part 1 of 2

Perv/Frat!Rafe x Female!Reader

+18 Minor DNI

Spoilers in the Warning: swearing, Stalking, pet names, degradation, namecalling, public masturbation, dark!rafe, mean!rafe, perv!rafe, mentions of cum play, mentions of unprotected P in V, ownership kink, mentions of rough oral (if I missed tags I'm sorry)

Edited lightly (sorry I've been in my head about my writing lately so she's kinda rough tbh)

3.8k

Part 1 will be from Rafe's POV Part 2 will be from the Female Rader's

Rafe's POV:

Part 1

“So, class. What does its structure contribute to the poem “Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night?” The professor drones on, sliding her reading glasses down her nose as she looks out onto the lecture hall. I shrink in my seat slightly, along with the other boys, doing my best to avoid her gaze.

Required reading, my ass. Did she honestly expect us to read this shit on a Thursday night? Barely drug my ass outta bed for class. Thank fuckin’ god. I relax in my seat as one of the front-row nerds saves the basic population who doesn’t give a fuck.

“Repetition. The poet used it to stress his key theme for his readers.”

I nod, scribbling a little line of nothingness on my paper, keeping up with the facade. That shit went in one ear and out the next. “Hey, Cameron.” My frat brother elbows me on the side. “You good for the kegs?”

“Yeah, sweetheart. What else can daddy get you?” I sneer as I roll my eyes at Billy, who laughs and scoffs. “I get paid back first, plus 10%. Get me a bottle of Pappy Van Winkle; I ain’t drinkin’ Coors, and I ain’t pickin’ that shit up either.”

“Thanks, daddy,” he responds in a breathy voice, snatching the wad of cash off my hands. “We need ten kegs between the Deltas and Phi Mu… You good for that-”

“Fuck you, ‘Am I good for that’?” I cut him short through a breathy laugh. “You’re holdin’ the cash in your hands, bitch. Stop askin’. Add an extra 5% for questionin’ me-”

“Rafe.” My stomach sinks as my professor’s eyes zero in on mine. “Am I interrupting something?” The old bird cocks an eyebrow, her annoyance visible, matching my own.

“No,” I answer simply, crossing my arms across my chest and relaxing at my desk.

“Splendid. I assume you know the answer then. Correct?” She challenges me, trying to catch me off guard. A smirk pulls on her lips as she does just that. Cunt.

“I agree.”

“The key insight about death in the poem is, ‘I agree’?” She belittles. I stare at her blankly, blinking a few times to let her know she’s wasting her time. She's not gettin’ shit out of me. I’ve got an A in this class, bitch. What’re you gonna do about it?

She chuckles weakly, shaking her head at my resistance. “Am I wrong, ma’am? I have a bit of conversational anxiety… If you’d like to repeat the question, I’d love to try again,” I ask through a shit-eating smirk, letting my sarcasm drip all the way through, irritating her even more.

“Anyone else?” She invites in a shrill voice as she dismisses me, looking around the room to find another. Some of my frat brothers snicker in the back, making the professor’s features even more rigid. “Miss. Y/n?” Her demeanor changes instantly, shaking off my defiance, moving on to another one of her perfect pets.

Who’s that?

Holy shit. I swallow hard, feeling my mouth dry up as I see her. She twiddles her fluffy pink pen, acknowledging the teacher with a smile. Y/n? Jesus fuckin’ Christ. How have I never seen her before? I watch as a football player shuffles down the row of the lecture hall. My question, answered in a moment as his broad shoulders cut off my line of sight. No. I stretch back, cranking my neck to get her in my sights again.

“The key insight’s that death should be fought against, even though it is inevitable.” Her beautiful voice fills the lecture hall like a song. The teacher smiles at her again, praising y/n for her correct answer. Y/n grins and nods, averting her eyes as she catches the room’s focus. Her cheeks blush the prettiest shade of pink, matching her glossy lips.

Those lips… I lick my own, thinking about the way they would look wrapped around my cock, drool running down her chin as she deepthroats my dick. I’d grip that little ponytail like a handlebar, using her mouth like a toy. I chuckle at myself, still surprised that my mind went there almost instantly, but I know myself too well. I am who I am.

Y/n looks so goddamn innocent… Not for long. She’s a slut for praise. I can tell. I can work with that.

My eyes work lower, following the curve of her cleavage in her low-cut shirt. Fuck, I can't wait to get her on top; watch ‘em bounce in my face. I'm gonna cum all over her perfect rack. Tiddie fuck her while she cries for daddy’s dick. Smear that shit- “Earth to Rafe?” I grit my teeth as I'm torn from my fantasy. “Buddy, you good?” Billy chuckles, his voice taunting as he follows my focus to her. “Mmm… Y/n,” he sighs blissfully. “So fuckin’ hot, bro. She's a Phi Mu girl.”

“No shit?”

“Mhmm… Transferred from LSU. Smart, funny, sexy… But she's mine, buddy. Aight? Been layin’ down groundwork all semester.” He elbows me playfully, chuckling to himself, actually believing his own words.

“All semester, and you haven't made a move?” I spit, eyes rolling in his direction. This whole conversation is laughable. Has he been sitting on this all semester? Really? She was mine the second I looked at her, buddy. You’re done.

“Long game,” he defends himself.

“Long game?” I scoff. “Doesn’t sound like you got any game at all...”

“Hey. Fuck off… I know she wants me. Her bedroom faces mine and she doesn't even close the curtains when she changes anymore; she texts me all the time. See?” He gloats as he thumbs through his phone. I don't even bother myself with the semantics. Why the fuck does that shit matter? What’s he gettin’ at? “I'm gonna help ‘em after class. They have some car wash fundraiser downtown.”

Is that so? “I like the sound of that,” I smile, feeling my cock growing stiff in my jeans at the thought of seeing her in next to nothing, wet and soapy no less.

“You can’t just take her from me, Rafe,” Billy mutters in annoyance. A laugh rumbles in my chest as I take in his empty words. “I'm not fuckin’ around. She's mine.”

My head turns slowly in his direction as he bends in mine. I mean, the guy’s big, but I'm bigger. He can fight, but he's not willing to see that shit through. Billy’s got that moral compass that urges him to stop where I couldn't care less. And he knows it.

He balls his hands up in fists at his desk, jaw tightening as he does his best to intimidate me one last time. My boy’s a bitch.

“Mine.”

++++++++

I study her movements as she glides through the halls. Her hair bounces with each step brushing along her backpack, half-hiding her perfect ass. Her bum shakes a little as she walks, just a tease for me. Y/n slight skirt grazes just a few inches below her ass, leaving her bare legs on display.

I wonder what they’d look like over my shoulder… Spread wide on my bed as I devoured her perfect pussy. Damn. I bet she makes some pretty sounds. I can’t wait to hear that, to see her face, as she squirts all over my mouth and cock.

Where are you going, pretty girl?

She hooks a left, heading toward the coffee shop. I continue to follow my girl, watching as she strolls inside. Y/n walks toward the line, stalling next to the case of pastries, eyeing the bottom. Do it for daddy, baby. C’mon. There you go… She drops down, surveying the options. That goddamn ass… Does she know I’m watching? She’s gotta know. The paisley material tugs higher on her thighs, a peek of her round ass poking out the bottom.

She stands up again, taking another step, moving with the traffic flow. Y/n reaches into her purse, pulling out her phone. She smiles as she looks at the screen. Billy Hargrove 💕. I feel my heart pick up pace, my breathing quickening; rage boils inside me.

I gave him an order. This shit’s not up to him. I roll the tension out of my neck, fingers twisting into fists of my own. Where’s the fucking loyalty? She bites her bottom lip and smiles at the message, making me physically ill.

I’ve got distracted by her… Say somethin’ to make her forget about that.

“Uh, hey,” I rasp. Y/n continues to type up a little message. “Y/n?” I reach out, resting my hand on her arm.

“Oh, hi… Umm, Rafe?” She says my name, making everything stand still. I look down at the beautiful eyes and soft, pouty lips, the corners of which curl into a sweet smile.

“Uh, yeah,” I answer, trying to level my tone. “We’re in class together.”

“Yeah… She’s kind of a bitch. Right?” Y/n asks weakly as her eyes soften on mine, showing me pity like my feelings might have been hurt by that little exchange between the professor and me.

“Yeah, she sucks,” I laugh lightly, tossing my head down in fake shame. “The boys and I got a little rowdy last night. I didn’t read that shit. Did you? I mean, obviously-”

“On my way to class,” she giggles as she looks around playfully for our professor.

My mouth falls into an open smile. “Naughty girl. Coast is clear, by the way,” I rasp through a little laugh.

“Good,” Y/n sighs as she tucks some hair behind her ear.

“You’re really smart.” I praise, watching her cheeks blushing again, this time closer than before, making my heart bang in my chest.

“Thank you. Oh, umm, you're a Delta. Right?” She asks, solidifying her answer as she eyes the embroidery on my polo.

“I am. And you’re Phi Mu?” Y/n grins as she nods in reply. “I’m headed over to your car wash after this.”

“Awesome. Yeah, Lyndsey was worried that the University might question where the money came from if we made anything off selling beer tonight.”

“A cover-up?” I smile down at her as I stuff my hands in my jeans.

“Mhmm,” she breathes. “The party’s gonna be huge. Do you think we’ll get busted?”

I chuckle at the sweet nativity of her question. “‘Course we will. Over 500 students in one place… But it’s a block party. Right? So they won’t be able to pinpoint anybody. Not usin’ the frat's money directly. Cash. The boys are gonna pay me back as they sell cups. Untraceable.”

“Aww. That’s so nice of you,” she smiles. Her demeanor hasn’t faltered since we’ve spoken. She doesn’t seem to care about the material shit; my Breitling watch, the gold rings on my fingers. Her face didn’t light up when I dropped the fact that I would buy beer for the masses. She just said it was nice… Fuck, she’s perfect.

“I try… But, if we get busted, I'll blame it on some beautiful Phi girl I know.”

She gasps playfully, smacking me in the chest. “You wouldn’t!” Everything tenses in my body as I fight back my arousal, covering the growing excitement in my slacks with my notebook.

Y/n looks over my shoulder, catching the girl's eyes behind me as she tells us to move forward. “Sorry,” Y/n sighs apologetically, clearing the open space between us and the register. Y/n steps up to the counter, ordering a latte and a muffin before reaching into her purse.

“Oh, shit. No. Sorry! Let me,” I breathe as I hurry to her side. “I’ll pay for whatever she’s havin’ and a coffee for me: one cream, one sugar. Thank you.”

“Wow. Thank you, Rafe. You didn’t need to do that,” she coos.

“No problem, y/n.”

Gifts... That’s what my girl likes.

Well, shit. She’s gonna need a grand gesture. I can sneak into her room tonight. Check the essentials: dress size, music taste; the little things she enjoys.

I'll take a look at her nightstand. How could I not? Gotta know what she uses to please herself so I know what I’m working with and what it takes to get her there. I want to know her better than she knows herself.

I follow along, trying to keep my eyes on her face, but I can’t help but roam her body. I've never seen anything like it, never seen anything so perfect for me. I never wanted anything so bad.

The barista walks over, setting down my coffee. I suck my teeth, regretting my choice, knowing if I got the same shit as her, I could have stayed. But I shouldn’t. “I’ll come by. Yeah? Don’t kill me… I gotta big ass truck, and she’s dirty as shit.”

“No worries,” she smiles sweetly. “I’ll see you there, Rafe. Oh, and thanks for the coffee again.” She reaches out, resting her hand on my arm.

“Of course, sweetheart.” I test a pet name, watching her smile widen. Just gorgeous.

I step away, walking towards the door. Looking over my shoulder as Y/n pulls out her phone, that same smile for Billy setting on her perfect lips.

He’s fucking dead.

++++++++

I pull up toward the parking lot, falling into the line of cars; a caravan of dicks with their windows already rolled down. Fuckin’ dogs. I lean out as well, surveying the scene looking for her. Jesus fuckin’ Christ. I watch the gaggle of girls prancing around in their bikinis, excitement building as I frantically look for her.

My heart skips as I see her sporting the most clothes, donning yet the sluttiest outfit of them all. She’s an absolute fuckin’ tease in her cut-off jean shorts and white t-shirt, soaked with water. The material clings to her curves, teasing me with her little triangle top, gathered slightly, barely covering her tits.

She leans over and reaches into the bucket, pulling out a sponge before ringing out the soap. A guy rolls down the window of his Mercedes, bending his neck to watch as she washes the side. I can already tell where this is goin’. He smirks, watching her ass as she leans down, cleaning the rear fender. “Aww, sweetheart,” he soughs, “Uhh…You missed a spot.” Y/n smiles sweetly, lowering to where she was before, making me huff out an aggravated breath.

Her friend walks over with a hose, spraying down the suds that y/n left behind. Tori Clarence, a late-night Delta regular. She says something that makes Y/n laugh. Y/n claps back, teasing her sister through a wicked smile. Tori lifts the gun, spraying y/n with a stream of water, hitting her directly on her tits.

Y/n gasps as her shirt turns from milky white to practically see-through, the chilly water running down her perfect body, making her nipple hard. She panics to get warm, reaching for the bottom of her shirt. Holy fuck. Holy fuck. Holy fuck. She pulls it over her body: soft skin, perfect boobs, and wet hair. Little lines of water cascade down her bare skin, rounding her curves catching on the denim of her shorts. Her eyes fall down her body, eyeing her damp state.

“Just do it, baby girl,” I moan, watching as she pinches her top button. I grab mine as well, tugging it open with her. I hiss at the sensation of my rock-hard cock in my hand, feeling some relief. This is the first time I’ve touched myself all day. I was edging myself as I studied her Instagram and TikTok page, saving my favorites to my phone. When I saw her in the parking lot, I swear I could have cum untouched.

I start to fist my cock as she leans over the trunk, her body perfectly positioned like I’m taking her from the back. Goddamn. I’d snake my rough hand up her soft skin, following the curve of her arched spine, drifting into her hair. I’d pull it back, feeling her pussy clench around my big dick. I’d spank her, cracking her tight little ass with the palm of my hand, leaving her red and bruised. Just one of the many ways I’d mark my girl. “Fuck, Y/n,” I moan her name as heat radiates through my body.

She walks along the side of the next car, letting me see her little triangle top: light blue, thin material, the blush of nipples visible. I roll my hand over my tip, whimpering at the sensation, imagining myself hitting the back of her throat as tears pool in her pretty, innocent eyes. Y/n looking up at daddy, mascara running down her cheeks as she throats me like the slut I know she can be. I’d hold her head in my hands, using her mouth to stroke my cock. My perfect little toy...

Fuck. I got a Fleshlight with her name on it. I’m gonna use those pictures when I get home… Gotta get myself ready for tonight. She has no clue what she’s in for. What I wouldn’t give to have my cock in her hand instead of my own. I’d make her jerk me off as she pleaded for my dick deep in that pretty tight cunt. I bet she’s so goddam wet. So, so fuckin’ tight.

“I know, baby. Daddy’s gonna give you his dick. Don’t worry,” I mumble, feeling my breathing start to increase with my pleasure. I thrust into my hand, fucking up into my fist as I watch her undo the loosened side strings of her bikini, tightening it again.

I eye the sign, catching the time. 11-4 PM. Yes… They’ll be here all afternoon. Just need to make a pit stop. Grab a pair of panties. Whatever I can get. I need to taste her. Stuff ‘em in my mouth as I study my prize. My hips stutter as I feel myself about to bust, imagining just how sweet she’ll taste. I work myself quicker, taking hold of my steering wheel as I rut into my hand.

‘Rafe. Rafe. Rafe.’ I can hear it now. See my little whore creamin’ on my cock as I give it to her over and over again.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, baby girl. Where do you want it?”

‘Deep in my pussy… Please, baby’. She’ll whimper and beg, pleading to get stuffed full. I’m gonna brush my fingers over her swollen clit, making her gush all over my cock and thighs, wetting everything around us until I’m pumping her full of my cum.

I'll watch it drip out of her puffy pink hole, fucking it right back in, cleaning the rest off with my tongue before spitting it in her mouth.

My perfect cumslut.

I need it drippin’ out of her for days. Watchin’ my little angel walk into class, knowing just how good I dicked her down. I'll watch her from my seat as she cleans the little cum tear off her inner thigh, slipping it between her lips as her eyes flick to mine, sucking it clean.

No one will have her again. “She was made for me.” The thought alone has my hand faltering; jaw falling slack. My stomach sinks, eyes doubling as she looks in my direction, matching my gaze. “Fuckkk…” My eyes roll back in my skull, toes curling, head thrown to the headrest as I cum harder than I ever have. Shit. I don’t even care if she saw. If she’s any girl of mine, she’d want to see it anyway.

My dirty little whore.

I look down at my jizz covered hand and lap. Goddamnit. I clear the gap between my car and the next before ripping off my shirt and wiping away my mess. I flip my hat on, snagging my protein shaker bottle from the passenger’s seat floor as I try to disguise the real reason I’m covered head to toe in sweat. I do my best to control my breathing, still running high from my climax, hit with the post-nut clarity that she may have seen it all.

She looks happy to see me… Real happy. Y/n smiles, making my heart race again as I meet her gorgeous eyes. She greets me happily, trotting up to my truck. “How are you doin’, sweetheart?”

She dunks her hand into the soapy bucket, grabbing a sponge. “Livin’ the dream,” y/n smiles, moving closer than expected. I take in her perfume, already so familiar to me, the smell of it revving me right up again.

“Sorry. I’m a sweaty mess,” I sigh. Her gaze falls down my body, studying me with a bashful smile.

“Just got done with a workout?” She asks.

“Mhmm…” I smile and nod in reply. “Pay now? Pay later?” I invite as I snag my wallet.

“Now,” she sings. “Donation based, so whatever you’re willing to give.” I thumb through my wallet, plucking out $200.

“Rafe…” She breathes, taking it off my hands. “Are you sure? This is a little much.” Y/n looks down at the cash in her hands before meeting my eyes again.

“Positive,” I assure.

“Well, that is very nice, Rafe Cameron,” she coos. Y/n uses my last name, making my stomach drop. She wouldn’t have known my last name unless she did some digging. I didn’t give it to her; I never said anything in class before today. She must have looked me up on Instagram or Snapchat… Maybe she asked one of her sisters about me.

I fight off a wide smile as she gets started on the car. She takes her time, putting in a little more effort than the cars before. She walks to the front of the cab, leaning over, breast jiggling as she swirls and circles the sponge on the hood. She rises a little higher on her tippy toes, unable to reach the rest.

“Here you go, babe.” Her friend sets down a ladder for Y/n. She bends over once more, the angle alone making my cock rock hard again as I imagine us fucking raw. Tonight… I'll bend her over on the bathroom counter, just like she is now, the bass of the party on the street not even loud enough to cover her cries and my moans. I’ll pound into her as the slaps of our skin fill the bathroom. Her eyes shift to mine, catching my stare. She doesn’t drop focus, keeping her eyes on me as she continues to scrub. A smirk spreads on her lips, mirroring my own.

Baby girl…

Y/n steps down from the ladder before walking to her friend, grabbing the hose off her hands; taking her job instead. She sprays down the truck, cleaning off the suds. The light breeze catches the flow of water, sending little beads of it flying, catching on her perfect skin. My mouth waters as I imagine licking the glaze of it off her skin. Fuck… I don't think I can take this.

“Alright, Mr. Cameron. You’re all set,” she smiles as she eyes her work. I bite my lip and nod.

“Thank you, princess. See you tonight.”

I pull forward, watching her from my wing mirror as she greets the next car. Her excitement fades as she welcomes the next. Good fuckin’ girl.

Next stop, Phi Mu.

A/N: Writing Part 2 Soon :)

Tags: @voyeurmunson@babygorewhore@beautifuldisaster88@gri959@rafedrewandjjs@redhead1180@xo-billy-hargrove-ox@romaescapes@cutielando@imbabycowboy@wearemadeofstardust0@drewstarkeyslut@babyraven@juniebugg@humanvampire13@akashababy@dckweed@ashamedtobewhitemanswhore27@marahgubler@joannamuns9n@h34rtsformilli@jayla@randymeeksistheloml@waywarsoul113

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coffeewithcocoa · 2 months

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Drunk Confessions

Prologue

Human Alastor x Male Reader

I’m spitting random shit outta my ass and this is one of them.

(LOOK AT THIS MAN! MY EYES ARE BEING BLESSED!)

———————————————————————

You and Alastor were good friends. The best even! You too have been growing up together and both your parents have loved seeing you both do everything together. Whenever someone would push him down you would be at his side helping him, same went for you. He chose to be more violent though.

Even when you both were teens that didn’t plan on splitting you up. Though when you did have to move back to Europe, you and him realized that you wouldn’t be able to talk.

So you just declined moving back there all together. Your parents kept trying to say that it was for the better and you’ll visit soon but that didn’t convince you. It took 18 hours, with the help of Alastor’s mom, to get you to leave.

Tears ran down your face as you remembered all the good times with him.

“AHEM-!” Someone snapped you out of your thoughts. “HM- Yes Mimzi?” You chuckled at the embarrassment, that was probably like the fifth time today. “How about you go talk to him. You’ve been gawkin’ at him ever since he walked in!”

She did have a point. “No thank you, Mimzi.” You turned your attention back over to the bartender. “Another drink please Husker?” He rolled his eyes and fetched you another drink. “Thank you~!” You sang out to him.

“Look..you high haven’t talked ever since you moved.” Mimzi said to get your attention turned back towards her. “Just try and talk to him again?” She spoke again, rising an eyebrow at you

“I would love to..I truly would, but it’s been so long and..WHERE are you going?!” She chuckled as she got up from her chair. Her height being very noticeable as her flapper dress straightened out from being seated.

“If you’re not gonna do it, then I am sweetheart.” She waved her hand at you as she moved closer to your old friend. “Here’s your drink..” You quickly got up from your chair, ‘shit!’ But when you got there it was too late. You quickly turned your heals and walked back to your spot.

“Thank you again for the drink Husk.” You snatched the drink that he healed and left to the back room of the speakeasy. God, you hated when people fought your own battles for you. You get that they’re trying to help but damn.

You closed the door with a nice click noise. A soft sigh slipped past you, taking a nice sip from the whiskey that you so desired. The room that you were in held all kinds of liquor. Starting from whiskey and ending at wine.

‘Looks like I can drink myself to death over here.’ You quickly downed the rest of your drink like it was a shot and grabbed a similar bottle to the Whiskey you liked. Opening it with a nice pop sound, you started refilling your glass with it.

The smell of liquor quickly filled the room. A satisfied hum came out from you as you decided to drink your way till you were drunk. Even though that was pretty risky but you didn’t care.

“Anyways Alastor, sweetheart, how have you been doing?” Mimzi smiled at Alastor as her and him were walking back got the area that she was last seen with you. “Oh I’ve been doing quite alright! The radio broadcasts have been just swell!” He chuckled out in his normal happy self.

Mimzi made a lip smack sound, “Well isn’t that just nice. I’ll be happy to let you know that..where the fuck did he go.” She blinked at your seat a couple of times before turning around to face the taller person.

She chuckled out loud while tinkering with her gloves. “Okay look. I didn’t lie to you but he did disappear.” Her voice wasn’t that confident. Since Husk was right there he scoffed, calling her out on her fake bullshit. “You were the one who fucking scared him off, son of a bitch.” He mumbled the last part so the both of them wouldn’t hear.

“What did I do to scare him off?!” Mimzi started getting defensive. “You called over the very fuckin’ person that he didn’t want to talk to.” Husk blinked at Mimzi before heading away. Alastor just stood there smiling before moving towards Husk.

“Hello old pal.” Alastor gave Husk one of the fakest smiles know to him. “The fuck you want.” Husk turned around so he could clean some bottles. “I just have a favor.” Alastor chuckled. “No need to get all pissy now. I just want you to know where you saw him go!” Alastor said taking a glass of Whiskey.

———————————————————————

I’m going to write a part 1. For right now I guess this is a prologue! FEAST MY LOVELY CHILDREN>:)

Part 1

#hazbin hotel #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin x reader #x male reader #asexual #human alastor #character x you #hazbin x you #hazbin hotel x male reader #male reader #gay reader

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pynkricee · 4 months

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Sorry Mr. Tease....

"Choso stop teasing me like that... it's not funny. I was horny and you stopped it..."

Her face was so cute when she looked upset, I couldn't help but tease her some more and get her stired up..."Awww poor baby... My baby girl is mad cause I moved your hand away from my dick huh.."

Balling up her little fist, she nugged me in the arm. "Shut it Cho... " Her face was red as a can of paint while her arms were crossed and her head turned to keep me from looking in her eyes. The blush from her embarrassment changed her beautiful skin tone to a chestnut shade with a hint of pink that I couldn't help but laugh about. "Stop making fun of me.." He nugged me again but even harder this time and it was too cute with her lip poked out.

(She wasn't going to get away with that one..)

Sneering the corners of my mouth I grabbed both her wrist, forcing her hands to my stomach, moving closer and closer to my private area. "You play to fucking much y/n.." I let out a mischievous laugh pulling her hands down closer.. "It's my turn to play now.." I could feel her trying to jerk away but she wasn't going any fucking where.

"Choso what are you trying to ..."

"Don't worry about it since I'm this so called big tease.."

She forcefully ripped her grip from. Which surprised cause baby girl was strong..

She immediately climbed on top of me, stradding me on the couch. She took off her shirt, throwing it up against the wall.. her beautiful bare breast perked up in front of me. I wanted nothing more but to taste them . Caress them around my wet tongue. I had no idea what she was about to do but I was ready..

Leaning over she forced her tongue in my mouth pushing myself back as I moaned from surprise. Our mouths were having a nasty, full on battle til I felt her cold hands quickly pull my shirt off, pulling it over my head and tossing it to the side. My lips were wet with her saliva and I couldn't do nothing more but lick it off.

Breaking the kiss, she then stood up, holding her hand out to me. So I took it standing up facing her. She was so tiny.. my baby.. my princess. Whatever the hell she wanted to do with me.. I would let her....

Biting her juciy big bottom lip she wrapped her thumbs around the inside of my pants using her weight to pull them down as she fell bent down to the floor. Lifing my legs up one by one, she took and threw the pants to the wall. She then stood back up not breaking eye contacts ad I tilted my head to her, gleaming my eyes into hers..

"What the fuck..." Her push caught me off guard as she used her weight to push me down on the couch as she then straddled me , wrapping her legs on each side. Her soaking wet pussy dripping on dick as I leaned in forward using my tongue to lick her top lip. "SO.... this is when you're suppose to fuck the shit out of me huh?"

"Nah.... I'm not ganna fuck the shit outta you.. Ima put you to sleep..." Her warm hand wrapped around my erect penis. The precum was already dripping from my dick as she slowly slid me inside her.

"Shiiiiiiiittttt...Baby.... Fuuuuuu" Her pussy was so wet as she began to rock her hips roughly back and forth... I had no choice other than to grab and dig my nails in hips. Her moans filled the walls and my ears. The way an echo would bounce in the movie theater is the way it sounded right now as my moans fought with hers..

"Cho... baby.. I wanna make you cum.. ! " Her panting got harder as her lips rubbed up against mine. Both of our mouths opened, breathing against each other. My tongue licking the front of her teeth... "I'm tryna fuck your head up to only think about me baby.."

"Is..is that right baby?" I moaned leaning back , shooting my dick into her harder, touching her g-spot. Her pussy walls clenching to around my throbbing penis. My left hand gripping the skin off her ass as my right reached up grabbing her breasts, stroking her nipple. My hand went from her nipple straight to the back of her neck as I yanked her into my mouth, giving her this wet sloopy kiss that she couldn't resist.

My buns started to come undone as I could feel my dick on the verge of exploding. I then let out a load moan grabbing her hip even harder as her pussy was digging deeper ontop of my dick with her ass clapping from behind. Her juices making her ass clap harder on my lap as the splashes mixed with my cum hit my inner thighs.

"God Damnitttt Shiitttttt .... y/n...." I groaned grabbing the back of her head as much teeth sunk into the side of her neck.

"I told you...I'd fuck your mind up Choso.. " She was panting so hard her nipples stood attention from her shivers.

I pulled her back into my mouth, pushing my tongue against hers as we both were steady moaning.. my hips still slowly moving as my cum still filled her.

Breaking the kiss I looked her in the eyes..giving her that evil grin that always made her pussy drip...

" Hmmmm.. I don't wanna hear that shit.."I smiled as my lips softly touched hers..

#choso #chosokamo #jujutsu kaisen choso #choso kamo #jjk choso #chosoandpynk #choso x reader #choso x y/n #choso x smut #choso x you #choso smut #choso kamo smut #Spotify #Jujutsukaisen #choso jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jj kaisen #jjkmen #jjk men

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rustedhearts · 5 months

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severed lamb: part v: sunday mourning (pastor!steve x fem!reader)

summary: your encounter with pastor steve leaves you feeling ill. he pays you a visit to make you feel better, and in doing so damns you a little further down to hell.

uses she/her pronouns and female anatomy.

♰ severed lamb ♰ ♰ the library ♰

tags: religious imagery/trauma; age gap (steve is 35, reader is 19); manipulation; coercion; abuse of power; more god guilt; smut; depictions of vomiting; perversion of religion; this is literally so gross and i am ashamed.

a/n: merry christmas, ya filthy animals :)

♰ wydgate, georgia, august 1981 ♰

The night after rainfall was always scorching hot.

You clicked the ceiling fan on high and put the box fan in your window to cool down the carpeted room, but nothing could soothe the itching fire in your veins. You frantically kicked at your sheets and twisted around, pounding your clenched fists on the mattress at midnight.

When you closed your eyes, all you saw was Pastor Steve in the darkness. Touching you, kissing you, making noises, and pulling pleasure. The way his fingers prodded inside you and had your stomach quivering. Parts of you thrummed with desire for more of his attention. Other parts shuddered in disgust. The parts where you clung to God, you supposed.

And God always prevailed.

Sprung from your bed, you scrambled for your bedroom door in the inky darkness. Feet padding over bare, sticky flooring in the emptiness of night on your way to the bathroom. Your knees thumped to the floor before the toilet, and into the bowl you spewed a day’s worth of sustenance.

Burning your throat raw, leaving a sticky film over your lips and teeth, splattering into the porcelain bowl—you didn't stop until you were heaving nothing but drool and air. You collapsed back against the tub, knees pressed to your chest. How was it that you were still aching between your thighs? Pastor Steve's Godless infiltration into your thoughts seemed to have no bounds.

You pushed to shaky knees and flushed the mess down. The wobble back to your bedroom came with bumps and bruises against the walls, and you barely remembered slipping back under the sheets and laying down your head.

♰ ♰

In the morning, the heaviness of your head and stiffness of your neck were immediate cause for alarm. Was it possible to genuinely make yourself sick with worry? Blinking your eyes open came with a dull, pulsing pain that made you wince.

“Delilah? Delilah Anne, what are you still doin’ in bed?”

Your mother came rushing into the room, shrilling as she went. The curtains were drawn and the sun came blaring in, causing you to slither under the covers and whine.

“Feel sick, Mama.”

“It’s Sunday, Delilah, we’ve got church. Get your sorry ass outta this bed.”

Her hand yanked at the end of your covers, and you fought against her pull with clawing hands. She huffed and snatched at the top this time, successfully uncovering your head.

Though a scowl played on her mouth, she paused at the sight of you in disarray. Your clammy skin had lost its color, eyes swollen and bloodshot. Your mother's hands found her hips, clad in a bright yellow dress for church.

"Well, good Lord, child."

You swallowed down a sore and aching throat. "I threw up, Mama."

"I can see that," she replied plainly, lips pursed in dismay. An irritated sigh shot from her mouth. "Fine, you'll stay here. But you better pray long and hard that you're feelin' better for mass later on."

Flicking her hair out of her face, your mother spun around and clicked out of the room on uneven heels. You brought the covers back around your shoulders, curling up under your chin. Tinkling and rustling emerged from beyond the bedroom door, and soon the front screen yawned with your mother's exit.

In her absence, the house sagged with relief. The open window cast a beam of soft morning light across your feet. Birds twittered their hellos, cicadas shook out their wings and readied them for a day of screaming, and the wind was butter soft. You let your eyes sink shut and listened to it brush over the grass outside your window. Rustle the cherry tree leaves. Shutter the arms of the windmill in the backyard.

The thought of missing church for the first Sunday in ages left you waning with unease—but the relief of not having to see Pastor Steve soothed the sting. You could not sit in a pew and watch him spew Godly utterings knowing what he had done to you. Knowing how he made you feel. A pleasure so boundless, so infinitely blood-rushing that it made you ill.

It was wrong. It was a sin.

But here, right now, it was quiet. Finally, you didn't have to think...

♰ ♰

You woke sometime near the afternoon, the sun in a full blazing mood. The room was blinding with an almost white hue, stifling with an increase of heat. You stirred under the covers with a disapproving squeak, and it was as you shifted that you heard a noise in the living room.

"It's so kind a' you to do this, Pastor Steve. Lilah's gonna be so relieved she didn't have t' miss out."

Slumber swept from your body in like cool breeze, leaving you in a fully aware consciousness that snapped painfully. The floorboards creaked with their padding feet, approaching the knob of your door. You wished you knew how to disappear on command.

"Lilah? Lilah, you got a visitor," your mother called through the wood of the door, her voice much sweeter than you ever knew it to be.

The door chittered on old hinges, swinging open to reveal two bodies you had enough of. You kept your eyes on the ceiling, suddenly regretful for not feigning sleep. In your periphery, a flash of black accompanied a blob of yellow. Pastor Steve abandoned his cloak back at the chapel, stripped down to the tight button up and clean slacks of casual worship. The white plastic collar of his uniform fit snugly against his throat.

"Hello, Delilah," Pastor Steve cooed.

You curled your fingers into fists beneath the blankets. Turned your head an inch, caught sight of his crisp sleeve. "Hello."

"Forgive her, she's feelin' real poorly. D' you want some sweet tea, Pastor Steve?"

Pastor Steve flashed a smile at your mother. "No, thank you, Lorraine, that's real kind. I think Delilah and I should have some privacy for her mass."

"Of course." Your mother fluffed the ends of her hair and fixed her posture. She hated being snubbed of a man's attention, let alone Pastor Steve's. She looked at him like a hound looks at a pork chop.

She made slow work of exiting the room, and you turned to follow her movements through the door. Your lips parted to speak, to beg her to return and exclaim your sudden wellness—but your tongue would not move. She pulled the door shut with a resounding click.

Now alone, Pastor Steve turned to face you in the bed, cradling a black bag to his chest. He inhaled deeply, chest ballooning with breath, and let his eyes rummage the sight of you. You squirmed against the sheets, fingers pulling at threads under the blankets.

"Couldn't have you missin' your chance to worship," he declared, and the bag against his chest clinked with vials and other accessories.

You shifted again. He stepped closer, a smile hemming his mouth gracefully. You glanced at his fingers gripping around the bag—those long, slender digits browned by the sun. You squeezed your legs together at the memory of what those appendages could do. The sort of pleasure they could bring.

The bag added weight to the end of your bed near your feet, which dipped a little sideways when Steve placed himself on the edge beside you. The warmth of his palm encompassed your head, and you winced under his touch like it scorched you.

"How're you feelin'? Hmm?"

He held a softness in his face with the ease of breathing air. Hazel eyes rounded with care, plump pink lips holding the slightest of pouts. It was always difficult to decipher just what he was thinking. Just when he would strike with more mind-jumbling, confusing affections.

"N-not good," you whispered hoarsely.

Steve's other hand approached your cheek, the back of two fingers gently sweeping down to clear away moistness. He stroked them up and down in small languid motions, like caressing a kitten. He felt the heat of your flesh under his touch, how it flared with every breath taken under his attention. His lip quirked just barely—a soft boyish grin without teeth.

"Hope this don't have nothin' to do with me," Pastor Steve gasped, and that grin slipped into a frown. "Does it, Delilah?"

The blankets draped over your body, the weight of his bag at the end of the bed, the pressure of his body pinning down the edge of the blankets—it suddenly felt immeasurably stifling. Inescapable. You curled your toes and tightened your arms.

Always the good Southern girl. Always the docile lamb—the girl bred to say 'please' and 'thank you' under the blade of a knife.

"N-no," you breathed, head shaking against the pillow.

That soft little grin again, curling the corner of his mouth and pricking your nerves. Steve pulled back a little, hands loosening to limp touches against your face. He nodded slowly, approvingly.

"Oh," he whispered, tone akin to relief. "Good."

Your eyes were drawn to the surface of his mouth when his lips quivered between a smile and a sneer. You pressed further back into the pillow, throat bobbing with a noisy swallow. His fingers slipped down your cheek and into your hair to tuck it behind your ear. You tipped your head opposite his touch when the pads of his fingers traced a firm tendon down the side of your throat. You gasped in small, hitched breaths.

Pastor Steve's touch stopped at the delicate gold chain of your necklace. His fingers glided over the metal, following its path across your collarbones. You watched the door for the handle turning. It never came.

"Shall we pray?" he murmured.

"Yes," you gasped, foolishly falling for the guise of God's salvation under Pastor Steve's sinful implications.

But Steve pulled his touch away and stood to his feet. You fixed your head back in place and watched him cross his hands before his stomach. He tipped his head toward you, indicating recital. Your arms whooshed from under the covers to sit atop your stomach, fingers interwoven like his.

Pastor Steve nodded once, firmly, and closed his eyes. His chin tipped a little higher, shoulders squared straightly.

"Our father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name," he began, snapped from the syrupy coo he reserved only for you. It was unnerving how easily he slipped into a display of good standing.

Your mouth mimicked his words with habitual softness.

"Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on Earth as it is in Heaven. Give us this our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us."

The prayer fell from your mouth without thought—but your thoughts, at this moment, were consumed with Steve. The way his throat moved when he spoke, how the thick veins squirmed and bulged under soft, freckled flesh. How his lashes fluttered between words, how his eyes moved behind their lids with discovery. The way his lips curled around vowels, how his tongue peeked through every so often to enunciate.

How you wanted him to touch you again, and how you hated yourself for it.

"And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, for ever and ever. Amen."

"Amen," you murmured, fingers sore from their tight squeezing when they came undone.

Pastor Steve opened his eyes and directed them toward you. Your feet fluttered under the sheets, fingers fidgeting with loose threads over your stomach. He had to have mercy on you.

He was silent as he sank back down onto the bed, resuming his wrinkled divot beside your hip. His hand smoothed over yours, scaling your arm to curl his fingers around your elbow. He took small glory in the way your eyes expanded; the acuteness of your tiny breaths.

"Feelin' any better?" he inquired.

You licked over your lips and his eyes darted toward the flash of your tongue. Oh, now you were teasing, were you? His fingers pressed a little firmer into your flesh, body inching closer. His hip pressed against yours, padded by the covers.

"A-a little," you murmured. At this point, you couldn't quite decide if that were true.

Every part of you felt aflame, sweat gathering under your head against the pillow and behind your knees beneath the sheets. A certain, gnawing need flared behind your navel. The need you paired with Pastor Steve's handsome face.

Steve brought his hand to your cheek again and tsked sharply. "Hmm, think you have a fever, sweetheart. We can't have that, can we?"

His fingers reached into the folded hem of the quilt tucked against your chest and began to pull. Peeled gently off your body, knocking your arms aside where they laid limply at your sides. You trembled with every struggled breath, eyes locked on his pleasing face as he bared you to the open air.

His eyes fell to your chest immediately, forgoing the peaked tautness of your nipples to admire the crucifix attached to your neck. It spurred him with a sickening excitement as he pulled the thin cotton sheet down to your feet.

"There's an old fashioned way of breakin' a fever," he whispered, sliding a little closer until you had to tip your head back to see his eyes. "Ever try it, Delilah?"

The shake of your head came at no surprise, and Steve just smiled down at your flushing face. "Figures."

The hand lingering near your feet over the sheet came skittering up your bare leg. Softly, merely grazing with every inch it traveled toward the end of your satin nightgown. All the while, Pastor Steve watched you with careful consideration; with a gentle, coaxing gaze.

"How 'bout we try it. Hmm?"

The gentle parting of your legs had his eyes downturning toward your soft skin. You bobbed your head at him, fisting the sheets at your sides.

"Okay..."

He twisted then, facing you with staunch yet soft determination. His hand swept between your thighs, curling into the elastic band of your panties to pull them down the length of your legs. When they sat around your ankles, his fingers resumed their ghosting touches. Climbing up your calf, your thigh, reaching into the pulsing warmth pooling under your nightgown.

Your softness had him inhaling, greedily dipping the pad of two fingers into the gooey heat of your hole. You shot up toward the headboard with a gasp, muscles tightening with electric shock. Pastor Steve shushed you softly, free hand coming to cup the top of your sweaty head.

"Shh, you just relax," he fawned, thumb rubbing into your temple. "That's a good girl."

He watched his own hand under your nightgown, twisting and pumping, pulling bated breaths and writhing need from your body. He felt the softness of you around him, the slickness congregating between his digits and slipping down his palm. Your cheeks were swelling with such an intense heat that he felt required to kiss them both. Your hand curled into the buttons of his shirt, wrinkling the perfect smoothness of the starched fabric.

"P-pastor," you gasped, thighs quaking around his fingers. "W-what are you d-doin' to me?"

Steve reared back an inch, lapping in your dazed frenzy with wild eyes. "The Lord wants this to happen. He wants me to love you."

A whimper balled up in your throat, coming out as a breathless cry exhaled into his shirt. He watched you slide halfway into his lap like a poor little cat in heat, rubbing your cheek into his stomach with anguished breaths. He could feel the flutter of your approaching peak constricting around his fingers. He pressed his thumb against your swollen clit and watched you silence a sharp cry with your teeth against his thigh. He huffed a chuckle, free hand petting your hair soothingly.

"That's it, that's it," he whispered.

"A-ain't it wrong?" you huffed, pulling your teeth off his thigh and gripping tight onto his arm. "To love me like this?"

Steve gently rubbed his thumb back and forth and pressed his hand to your head to keep you from twisting. He held you against him with a sudden iron force. Sweat beaded at his hairline and under his collar. His arm began to vibrate between your legs. He took a quick glance over toward the door and prayed it didn't open any time soon.

"Not if God wants me to."

And like the astounding proclamation held some sort of power, you turned and buried your mouth into his lap as you gushed over his hand. Pitiful cries wept into his pants, mouth pushing hot air into his crotch and making him twist his fingers in your hair despite himself. He kept his fingers pumping until you kicked your feet in protest.

Steve slipped his fingers from your legs and brought them to the light. Slickness slightly pinked with irritation drenched his fingers and clung to the crevices he happily licked clean. Popping them into his mouth, he sucked himself free of you and let you catch your breath against his thigh. He relaxed his hand into another gentle, taming caress.

"Better hope your mama's asleep," he whispered, gently turning your head to reveal your wet cheeks.

He swept his clean palm over them to clear away the tears. You sniffled and quivered, caught somewhere between bliss and anguish. And Steve just scooped you up, adjusting your body to lie back in its place against the pillow like a prop. He tucked your hair behind your ear again and stroked your cheek. His head cocked aside to inspect your swollen mouth.

"Hmm," he mused softly. "You feelin' better?"

You nodded, fingers pulled over your mouth shakily. Steve pulled your hand down by the wrist, bringing it to sit under your cheek. He took your panties by the waistband and rolled them back up, adjusting your nightgown to sit prettily. He smoothed out the wrinkles and fixed the curled lace. The blankets brought a gust of cool air when he draped them over your body again.

"Now," Steve stood to his feet, eyes trailing the state of you and the mess he made. "You come by the church tomorrow when you're feelin' better. Got somethin' special for you."

Your nose jumped with a tiny sniffle. You hadn't moved from the position he placed you in. The smile on his face suddenly sickened you.

"Okay."

Steve gathered the bag, unused, from the end of the bed. He tucked it under his arm and smoothed the divot in the quilt. As he passed near your head, he stroked two fingers across your cheek again. You pinched your eyes shut. He hummed and swept his thumb across your cheek.

"Sleep tight, little lamb."

His footsteps receded, and the door clicked shut a moment later. The house creaked and groaned under his weight moving through it. You held your breath in your throat as you waited for your mother's voice.

But it never came. And when the screen door slammed shut, and the sun began to fade, you realized you were alone.

But God always prevailed, right?

♰ ♰

#rolly!#pastor!steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x female reader smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x you #dark!steve harrington

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themainreactor · 5 months

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"Who forms a crush on a girl who eats a bell pepper like it's an apple?!"

In which, Itadori and Sukuna both form a crush on a strange upper classmate that they don't understand. You seem so calm yet deceitful and it scares Yuji to the point where he doesn't want to be around you. However, Sukuna can feel your power and pushes Yuji to talk to you. However you do something so dumbly simple yet questionable that Yuji's conflicted about it and Sukuna's scared.

Yuji doesn't know who you are, why you're a sorcerer, or how you're so much more stronger than almost everyone else.

All he knew is that one day, you came in the classroom with Gojo for some sort of sparing lesson.

All he knew is that you were three years older than him with a burn mark on the inside of your elbow that led to your shoulder.

All he knew is that it was strange that you had your own classroom assigned to you with no teacher.

All he knew is that one moment he's fighting you, and another moment, he's on his ass with you restraining him.

That didn't just happen to him, it happened to his classmates, the same exact way. And Gojo allowed it, just standing there with a pleased smirk.

Megumi? He let out every one of his shikigami he had and all you did was dodge... Dodge!? Like, the audacity to just allow him to attack you with an unfazed expression and then to take him down while he was exhausted.

Same with Nobara, trying everything she knew. From throwing her nails, to hammering a doll into a piece of a ripped, fallen cloth from your shirt. All you did was flinch when the air around you exploded. But even with this, you ended up winning, gaining on her and catching her by surprise through the smoke the explosion caused.

Oh how Sukuna desperately wanted to choke you out and teach you a lesson. He wasn't even the one you were fighting but he was pissed even seeing your face.

There was just something about you that Yuji couldn't bring himself to be okay with. Even though you were careful and calm with your movements, even though you looked sweet and gentle, he could just tell that if a person you respected told you to do something, you would probably do it without question.

For example, if one of the higher-ups told you to kill him, you would probably kill him.

He could just feel that you had no morals. Your eyes told him that you had experienced things that would break someone, and yet you looked unbothered. Like you didn't care. You almost reminded him of Sukuna, the nauseating demon that was using him as a vessel.

You weren't innocent and yet you looked so simple, so quiet, so tranquil. He didn't like it, you were strange yet unchanged.

Yuji didn't want to be around you, he felt scared.

Maybe that was partially due to him being able to hear Sukuna's stupid and deep voice in his head, telling him to beat the crap out of you before he jumped out and killed you instead.

He didn't know why Sukuna was freaking out, but all he knew was that he was going to fight and win. Until he fought and easily lost.

Sukuna felt threatened in his own habitat. He could feel the stress that your body was causing on his soul, he could feel the threat you had on him. As if you could kill him if you wanted to in an instant and you hadn't even done anything that could be considered scary.

Yuji lost so embarrassingly quicker than his classmates, and he didn't even get to use his cursed energy in order to attack. You just somehow got behind him and it was over.

Now here he is, way too close to your body as you restrain his hands and sit in-between his legs so he can't kick you.

He probably would have been turned on by your body against his if it weren't for the dark stare you gave him. It was a glare that told him you were a psychopath, that you were willing to kill him if he did something outta pocket.

Although he still felt a little hot, and he was pretty sure it wasn't just from the sparring.

Quickly after restraining him, you got up and offered to help him up. Yuji just dismissed you entirely, not wanting to be around you for another second as he got up and walked away, sulking at his loss.

Nobara scolded him, telling him not to be a sore loser while Megumi just left, standing next to the door as Gojo praises you and turns to his students.

He explains that he started the day off with an unfair sparring match with you because they all needed to understand a hand to hand combat that can't just be learned, it had to become muscle memory. That's what they all had to learn, that they could not take time to think in a real battle, otherwise they were dead.

Basically he was saying that they were all screwed against you because you were a killing machine that didn't think.

Whatever, lesson learned.

Yuji just let it go, not bothering to be around you just in case he was getting the wrong impression about you. Because if he was, he didn't want to be rude and confront you about something you weren't.

He also thought that you were hot but that was besides the point.

Unfortunately, you intrigued Sukuna. The reason being that he couldn't sense any cursed energy on you, however he could sense that you were a dangerous person. And what better way than to figure out what you even were than to pester Yuji non-stop about it until he was bone tired.

"What do you even want?!" Yuji groans out, slapping his face in his dorm room as he tries to sleep. For almost a month now, Sukuna kept annoying Itadori with your name, how you looked, how you acted, how your body felt against his.

... Well, the last thought was from him but the rest of them were too frustrating that he wasn't able to sleep well.

"I want you to get close." Sukuna starts, Yuji almost recoiling in anger from the all too familiar feeling of the skin on his cheek opening to make room for the curses eye.

"That's more reason for me to not do that. You don't do anything unless it's appealing to you." Yuji grumbles, standing up and yawning.

"I could care less what you think I'm gonna do. I would just like to talk, maybe play a bit." Was all Sukuna explained as he allowed his eye to disappear and a mouth to replace it so that he could speak clearer.

"Exactly why I won't do that. They doesn't deserve your nasty ass around!" Yuji yells towards Sukuna as he turns the light on in the dorm room. He needed to walk around or something and he didn't want this stupid conversation.

"Watch your tongue brat, you and I both know what we saw in those eyes."

He had to admit, Sukuna was right. No matter how much Yuji tried to paint you as a simple person, you were more than that.

Whether you were depressed or just some sort of high functioning sociopath, you weren't innocent, you were dangerous, borderline evil.

It was an unbridled power that Sukuna hadn't even felt around Gojo. Just how strong were you that he could feel in on you through a body he couldn't even fully control?

"... Why?" Yuji questions, sighing and stretching out his body for a bit.

"I don't need to explain myself to you." Sukuna backtracked, refusing to say anything for quite some time.

It was quiet, maybe Yuji could sleep now and leave this behind him.

Slowly he turns off the light and crawls back into bed.

The only thing he can hear is his own breathing.

"If you must know-"

"Oh no, Oh my gosh." Yuji muttered, groaning and shoving his face into his pillow. He didn't want to be thinking about Sukuna and his annoying voice right now, he didn't want to be thinking about you and who you may or may not be.

"Quiet brat, I was about to explain myself but I won't since I didn't ask for your input."

"I didn't ask for your's either."

"You did when you swallowed my finger."

Someone. Help. Him. Please! He's gonna strangle himself.

"Let me sleep." Yuji complains, rolling off of the bed and landing onto the floor with a thud. There was no way he was gonna survive.

"No, go talk, otherwise I'll kill them the next time I have control over you."

"Damn it!" Yuji yells out, standing up from the floor and walking over to his dresser.

He puts his socks on.

He puts his shoes on.

He won't bother to put a shirt on.

He'll just grab a blanket because he's so tired it almost humerous.

Yuji opens the door to his dorm room, taking in the silence before closing the door and proceeding to trip on his own feet and fall.

Yuji pitifully whines before standing back up. Hopefully he didn't wake anyone else up but he was quite frankly done with life at the moment.

"Pathetic." Sukuna scoffs at Yuji's mind, almost laughing at him.

"Shut up."

Yuji walks around the hallways, trying to figure out which dorm you were in until he found it.

He lightly knocked on your door, listening before knocking again.

If he was in his right mind, he wouldn't be doing this, but he was so sleep deprived that he could care less how stupid he looked.

After a while, he knocked again before silently groaning and deciding to just open the door since it was unlocked.

When he opened the door, he saw that you weren't actually in the room. However he secretly admired how clean your room looked at the moment.

He sighed, closing the door in annoyance. Clearly you weren't sleeping, at least not in your dorm room.

So dreadfully, Yuji walked back to his dorm room, passing the shared kitchen before noticing you and immediately turning around.

Yuji watched as you sat down on a stool in front of the counter, eating what appeared to be an apple as you read the back of a random box. You must have liked being in the kitchen.

He liked how calm you looked and for some reason, at that moment, he didn't feel like you were being deceitful. Was this really the same person that beat his ass a month ago?

Slowly he walked into the light of the kitchen, trying not to scare you but also trying to remain inconspicuous by grabbing a cup to fill up with water.

"Hey... How are you doing?" Yuji asks with a small smile as he yawns. He didn't really want to start a small conversation with you, but he might as well do it while he was here. Hopefully you didn't think he was weird.

"Good." You replied with a yawn as you nodded your head. It was only then that he noticed something.

Something that baffled him.

It was flabbergasting for him.

It absolutely bamboozled him.

He could keep going on and on. He had never seen something so outrageously confusing that should have been illegal.

"Are you... Eating a bell pepper?" Yuji asks, forgetting that he was even pretending to get a cup of water.

"Yes... Why?" You comment, biting into a piece of the bell pepper like it was nothing.

He's not upset that you're eating the bell pepper, he knows it's healthy. He's not even upset that you're eating it without cutting it.

He's upset that he even thought it was an apple to begin with. This was a problem because he had never seen a human being of any age, eat a bell pepper raw and uncut like it was normal.

"Oh, okay... Um wow, well... Good night?"

Who knew he could get horny and turned off at the same time by watching someone three years older than him bite into a bell pepper?

He wasn't even sure he was horny, he was just absolutely sure that he wanted to be around you now. You ate a bell pepper like you were flipping off nature. Like, 'forgot you and your apples!'

He was sure that you weren't evil. There was no damn way you could be evil and eat a bell pepper like that.

"Goodnight." You replied with a small but polite smile. What caught him was your eyes again. Your eyes were pretty, and even with the serious color in them and how it looked blank. This had to be the first time that he knew that you weren't just going through the motions.

You were present and you looked happy, or at least calm.

"Wait... Um, do you remember me?" Yuji asks, deciding to come and join you in another stool.

"Yes... You're Itadori right?" You reply with the same smile you had, yawning before taking another bite of your bell pepper.

He seriously wasn't going to let this go anytime soon. You were acting like it was no big deal.

"Yep, that's me." Yuji smiled, pointing at himself before he felt his cheek try and open.

Curse the damn curse.

"Hey brat."

"Brat?" You question the mouth, looking at Yuji's cheek before looking back at Yuji himself.

"Sorry! That's Sukuna, he does that sometimes." Yuji starts in a bashful tone, not trying to get embarrassed by the curse.

"Oh right... He's got a title... I can't remember what it is."

"I'm the King of curses you weakling." Sukuna mutters, trying to make himself feel better by insulting you.

However that wasn't really working because he was a bit caught up in the change you had in your eyes. Clearly when you fought, you were a different person than when you were resting and for some reason, Sukuna was drawn to it.

"Well, nice to meet you." You start, but get interrupted by the annoying creature.

"Yeah, whatever. Don't you forget it rat! I'll have you kn-"

"I'll give you a moment to shut up." You scolded with a tired gaze, effectively getting the curse to quiet down as fast as he spoke.

"... Is he always so articulate?" You ask Yuji with a teasing smile, making Yuji smile in return.

He was happy that you weren't some psychopath or freaky murderer. You seemed like a normal person that he would like to be around. But clearly you weren't too boring since you ate bell peppers strangely.

"Yeah, he's an ass and if we're being honest, he's kinda vile."

"Make sense, he is the King of Curses." You replied, unbothered by the topic. You were tired and your insomnia wouldn't sleep. You were kinda happy to have some company.

"Yeah, so... You're night going well Y/n?" Yuji asked, carefully watching as you ate the rest of your bell pepper.

"Yep, yours?" You yawned.

"Good, good... How do you feel about Jennifer Lawrence?"

What a fun question.

"How do I feel about her? Well... She's a great actress." Was all you could really say. You watched like one movie with her and an interview with a rubiks cube inside jello.

"Yep..."

Wait, didn't both Jennifer Lawrence and Josh Hutcherson act in like three movies together? That was something you could talk about.

"So... Have you seen that Josh Hutcherson edit?"

"No! Don't remind me of that tiktok trend! It's all over my for you page and I'm gonna lose my shit!"

Safe to say that the two of you basically became friends that night.

Now Yuji doesn't hate you, he likes being around you a lot. Making hand shakes with you and talking about celebrities, specifically Jennifer Lawrence and Josh Hutcherson.

But Yuji gets called out a lot by Nobara. She says that he acts like a lost puppy around you and Megumi just asks him not to hurt your feelings.

Whether it be due to how hilarious you looked when you were eating a bell pepper or the fact that you could get Sukuna to shut up if he talked outta line he didn't know why he would act that way.

Yuji respected you and unfortunately or fortunately depending on how you looked at it, formed a crush.

Sukuna on the other hand didn't want to be around you in a million years. His feelings had been hurt ever since you told him to shut up, but what was he going to do about it? Cry?

He would just have to get on your good side at some point since he genuinely wouldn't mind being a part of your life. Maybe he should stay away to, you make Sukuna feel uncomfortable with his evilness.

Sukuna also seems to be scared of you even though you haven't done anything. His pride is hurt by you so when Yuji's tired of his bull crap and you're not around, he'll threaten him with you.

"If you don't stop, I'm going to let you out and allow Y/n to beat your ass."

"Don't you dare brat!"

"Then be nice!"

"How dare you, I'm the king of-"

"Y/N!! Sukuna's being an ass again."

"Sorry brat! I'm shutting up!"

"Whatever."

"... Pathetic."

"That's it."

"Wait! No!"

271 notes · View notes

muddyorbsblr · 6 months

Text

friday nights & hot dates [kinktober 2023: slow & soft]

See the full Kinktober 2023 Collection here! See my full list of works here!

Summary: A few months after he first showed up at your house to keep you company on your birthday, Conrad finally tells you how he feels. | sequel to 'you deserve better'

Pairing: James Conrad x Reader

Word Count: 6.1k [please prepare drinkies & snacks accordingly]

Warnings: 18+ | smut (minors & pearl clutchers, get on outta here i won't ask twice); unprotected p in v sex; language; insecure reader; the smut scene is 1.3k words long idek if i should say sorry for this… [let me know if i missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: simp Conrad; a touch of aftercare in the end 😳🫠

Dick-tionary (aka smut guide): smut starts at "Once he realized what you were about to do" and ends at "We're nowhere near done"

A loud chime boomed across the Monarch training field, announcing the top of the hour. The setting sun only barely blocked by the visor atop former Captain James Conrad's head and doing a piss poor job of straining his eyes as he watched on the first troop of soldiers assigned to the lab.

He'd been tasked to train the few handfuls of privates to be able to face the challenges that Skull Island would have in store for them throughout subsequent missions. They were decent enough, but to handle both navigating the hostile, monstrous terrain and serving as protective detail for the scientists on their tasks to obtain more samples and document its ecosystem, they would need to be exemplary. At the top of their game.

Especially if they are to be protecting Y/N, he thought to himself. Then again, he probably wouldn't let any of them anywhere near you. He would see to your protection personally. Make sure that there was little to no room for error when it came to your safety.

But they all had a long way to go before he decreed any of them ready for the field. And none of them would be closing the gap on their endurance or their agility within the next few minutes. The chime that rung out through the field not only signaled the top of the hour, but the end of your own work day, and he wanted to at least see you off to your ride home. Perhaps walk with you to the pick-up point.

"Alright, that's enough for today," he called out to the privates, everyone standing to attention at his word. "We'll resume on Monday morning. Get adequate rest this weekend."

He took off his training jacket and his visor, haphazardly running his hand through his short cropped hair. While he took a quick inventory of his belongings before heading off to your lab, one of the women privates approached him.

"Do you need anything, Pearson?"

She began to shuffle her stance, somewhat incapable of meeting his gaze as she spoke to him. "The other guys and I were going to check out the new Mexican place that opened up a few blocks from here. I was--I mean we were wondering if you'd like to join us?"

Pearson straightened her stance in a particular manner, jutting her chest out in a blatantly clear attempt to draw his attention to it. You're fresh out of luck, my attentions are for one woman and one woman only. And she's in the lab.

"Thank you for the invite, Pearson, but I have what you and your peers might say a…'hot date' tonight." He fought against the smile playing at the corners of his mouth at the thought of being on a proper date with you.

"Oh." She barely tried to hide the disappointment in her voice. "Okay then. Have a good weekend, Sir."

"Don't look now but he's here again," Brooks muttered from across the lab, the sound of him clacking away on his keyboard taking the briefest pause to tell you that once again, the former SAS tracker James Conrad was right outside the door. "You ever gonna share with the class how you two became a thing? 'Cause we have a bet going on in the lab about who made the first move and--"

"There's nothing to share, Brooks, because we aren't a thing," you cut him off, taking on a snippy tone while you ran the genome of the last flora sample from the set you collected in Skull Island against every recorded organism known to man so far. "We're friends, that's all. Give it time and he'll get tired of slumming it out with me and go back to haunting pool bars and nameless hookups."

"I don't know, Y/L/N…I never had a friend look at me like that."

The results from your test finally came up on the screen, confirming that the flora on the island were all, in fact, undocumented. You took a quick screenshot and placed it into your report. "Looks like we're getting funded," you announced, your half-deadpanned tone met with a mixture of excitement and fear. "Don't everyone stand up at once, I know how pumped we all are to get back to the island of death."

You finally stood up from your desk, looking outside the door and seeing Conrad outside giving you a little smile when your eyes met. You tried to ignore how your heart started doing backflips in your chest at the sight of him, keeping your expression fairly neutral as you gave him a small wave in response. Once your computer had finished shutting down, you grabbed your things and bid everyone goodbye, stopping at Brooks's desk last.

"If what you mean is looking at me like a barnacle he can't scrape off his boat, I hope you never have friends that look at you like that, my guy."

Before you stepped through the door, your fellow scientist let out a final remark. "You know, Y/N, for someone so smart, you're a bit of an idiot sometimes."

"Takes one to know one, Brooks," you shot back, stepping across the threshold and almost immediately becoming face-to-chest with the tracker that towered over you effortlessly. "Hey Conrad," you said slowly, trying your best to keep a hold of your composure. "Did you need something from us? I think I have Bryant running CMP for the guys you're training you should have the results tomo--"

"I didn't come here for the blood tests, Y/L/N," he cut you off, giving you another little smile that had your pulse thumping violently at your throat. "I erm…it's Friday." His eyebrows scrunched together in the slightest wince at his words.

"It is…" you echoed lamely, starting to tap away at your phone to get an Uber home, holding back the urge to sigh in relief seeing that your ride was only a few minutes away. "Have a good weekend, then," you tried to wave him off, pointing vaguely at the pick-up area, starting to awkwardly shuffle away from him.

He reached out and wrapped his hand around yours, stopping you before you got away too far. "Actually, I was thinking…perhaps we could go and grab a bite to eat? There's a new place that opened up just a short walk from here. Maybe we could try it out?"

As if on cue, your stomach let out an audible grumble, rudely reminding you that the last time you ate was this morning before you left your house. Before you could dwell on it any further, you canceled your Uber, giving him a tiny smile of your own. "Lead the way."

Dinner was a rather quiet affair, the two of you starting off by sharing a plate of nachos before you ordered your mains. Sometime before your entrees were served, a small group of people you recognized as the privates being trained as the Monarch Defense Team walked through the doors, the women immediately spotting Conrad and tossing a scornful dismissive look your way.

"What's wrong?"

His voice took your attention away from the group, the motion of him reaching across the table to take your hand in his causing a resounding stomp from across the restaurant followed by a barely contained "What the fuck?!"

"It's uhh…it's nothing," you waved off, trying to slowly pull your hand away so as to not elicit a stronger reaction from the group and grab his attention. "Just…thinking about work. I have to put a recommendation for another mission to the island in my report."

"We'll be better prepared this time," he reassured you, his thumb rubbing across the back of your hand in a soothing motion. "We have a better idea of what we're to face when we get there, and what not to do. And with enough time the troop that I'm training might even be field ready, so you and your team would have better protection."

Your neck twitched at the idea of the woman with the derisive eyes being tasked to protect you. Might even just throw you to the gigantic insects voluntarily. "Right…at least the team will be safe."

"And you, Y/N," he insisted, giving your hand a light squeeze. "I'll see to it myself, I promise you."

You nodded at his words, feeling your face strain at the smile you tried to give him before slipping your hand out of his and standing up. "Ladies room, I'll be back in a few."

While you were in line for the restroom, your thoughts wandered to how you could potentially word your recommendation so that maybe you didn't have to go with the rest of the team back to Skull Island. You weren't physically cut out to be in such a high-stress environment, and frankly you would be more of a liability if people had to look out for you on top of trying to survive a hostile environment.

When your turn came up in the queue, you were stopped in your tracks by someone wrapping their hand around your arm in a claw-like grasp, yanking you slightly backwards. "We need to talk, Y/L/N," a woman seethed.

You swore your blood chilled to near freezing point when you saw the woman private from Conrad's troop, her hateful eyes and vicious sneer too close for comfort.

There was something troubling you, Conrad could tell that much as he watched you in line for the restroom. Much as he usually found it adorable when you were muttering to yourself over your research, he had to fight to resist the urge to stand up and do what he could to somehow put you at ease.

He knew that you weren't all too excited that you had to return to the island, but his gut told him that it was more than just that. You seemed almost fearful when he mentioned the troop that he was training, and not in the way that told him it was simply because you doubted their ability to guarantee your safety.

Did you not realize that he would never even think to put your safety in anyone's hands other than his own? Didn't you know how valuable you were to him? Of course he would keep you safe. He'd put you in the same tent if he could just to make sure you'd never leave his sight.

The sight of a woman marching towards you as if on a war path had him leaving his seat within seconds, immediately recognizing it to be Pearson. When she stopped you from moving and he clocked the vice grip she had on you it had him seeing red. He saw the way you flinched back when she started hissing in your face, her words making every muscle in his body tense and burn with the itch to protect you from someone so obviously spiteful.

"Don't tell me you're the hot date that Captain Conrad turned me down for, this has to be the biggest crock of shit I've ever heard in my life," she spat out. Your face contorted with obvious discomfort from her talon-like hand tightening around your arm, nails undoubtedly digging into your skin.

"Listen, Private Pearson, I think there might just be a misunderstanding," you spoke softly, your tone laced with caution. "He's probably gonna go to said 'hot date' after this, I'm just his friend. We're friends…I think…"

Silly sweet girl, he thought to himself. Are you really so unaware of how I see you?

"Do you really think I'm that stupid, Y/L/N? I don't need to have a PhD in God knows what the ever loving fuck to know that you're into him. The only thing I can't figure out to save my life is what the fuck he sees in a mousey jumpy little thing like you, and where you found the goddamn audacity to steal him away the way you did."

"I'm not trying to steal anyone," you insisted, trying to wrestle your arm out of her hold. "We're just friends, Private Pearson. Anyone with a functioning brain can see that he doesn't want me like that. You want him, he's all yours, you won't hear a peep out of me."

"You better be right," she scoffed, releasing you with a slight shove, causing you to stumble backwards and fight to find your balance for a few seconds before righting yourself on your feet again. "If you know what's good for you, you'll stay the fuck away from him. Preferably before you see what happens when your stupid little face gets me triggered."

Rather than give her a verbal agreement, you simply nodded your head, scurrying off into the restroom, your face looking as if it had been drained of color and your bottom lip quivering with an obvious concern for your own safety.

So this was why you were concerned over your protection detail if you had to return to the island. Of course. Who would ever feel safe if someone assigned to the team that was tasked to protect them behaved the way that Pearson was behaving now? Who was to say that it wasn't beneath her to intentionally endanger you out of sheer spite?

The private let out an arrogant huff, flipping her hair and standing up straight with a smug look on her face before making her way back to her table with the rest of the privates in her troop.

"Pearson," Conrad spoke, letting his irritation over the entire encounter lace his tone. She stopped in her tracks, turning slowly to face him with a touch of fear in her eyes. Good, you should be afraid after the way you just spoke to the woman I love.

"Cap…Captain Conrad, hi!" Her cheeks strained with the smile she tried to keep plastered on her face despite the obvious nervousness that remained in her eyes. "We're so glad you decided to join us after all, we're seated over--"

"You're dismissed. Don't bother coming in on Monday." Her face fell immediately, indignation coloring her expression. "If you cannot treat the people you're expected to defend and protect with professionalism and respect, then you're not fit to stay on this team, let alone be deployed to the island."

"Come on, all this for a shifty little nothing? This is completely unfair!" she scoffed. "You could do so much better than her--"

"Hold your damn tongue, Pearson. I won't have you disrespect her--"

"She can't even hear us!"

"But I can." He began to raise his voice, calling the attention of the other patrons in the restaurant. "That's the woman I love you're talking about. It would be wise for you to choose your next words very carefully."

All the color drained from her face and she stood up straight again, back at full attention. "I apologize, Sir. I'll have my locker cleared before the weekend's over." And then she made her way back to her table, heavy footsteps sounding throughout the whole restaurant.

As Conrad sat back in his seat waiting for you to return, he replayed his own words over and over in his mind. After all this time keeping his emotions bottled in for the sake of preserving what friendship he had with you, the words had finally formed and solidified what had been building ever since the day he met you on the way to that forsaken death island.

He loved you.

By the time you made your way back to your table, you spotted Conrad signing a receipt and placing his credit card back into his wallet.

"You know I keep a tally on how many times you've refused to let me pay, right?" you sighed, taking out your phone and once again trying to book for an Uber home. "I'm perfectly fine with and capable of splitting the bill."

"Next time."

"I also keep a tally on how many times you've said exacty that." You shuffled your feet awkwardly where you stood, avoiding looking at both him and the table that sat his trainees, including the cruel witch that was Private Pearson. "Well uhm…I should get going, it's getting late. Enjoy your weekend, Conrad."

He reached out before you took another step, placing his hand at the curve of your waist. "Walk with me back to the lab and I'll drive you home."

The sound of a fist slamming down on one of the tables made you take a step back from his hold. You didn't have to look to know who it was or what caused the outburst. "I-I really don't wanna be a bother, it's fine. Really. I can take care of myself."

You tried to step forward again, making him stand from his seat, placing a large hand on your shoulder before running down the length of your arm to lace his fingers between yours. "You could never be a bother for me, Y/L/N," he spoke softly, lightly touching your chin with his other hand. "Come on."

For the most part throughout the drive to your place, he was touching you. Whether it be holding your hand between stoplights to make you stop picking at your fingernails, or rubbing circles on your knee to stop you from fidgeting, all the while keeping his other hand steadily on the wheel.

It was hands down one of the most illegally distractingly attractive things you'd ever seen. A sight that you thought was only reserved for leading ladies in those romance books you read, definitely not something you were supposed to experience in your lifetime.

It had you fighting back the urge to pout when you saw your house start to come into view, knowing that in a few short moments it would all be over. He gave your knee a light squeeze once he'd pulled up in front of your hourse, making quick work to make his way around the front of his car to open the door for you and undo your seatbelt.

The combined scent of his woodsy citrusy cologne and something that was just uniquely him seared itself into your brain as his face was mere inches from yours. He made it even worse reaching for your hand to hold you steady while you stepped out of the car.

"Thanks, Conrad," you muttered when you got to your door, your mind spinning from the feel of him running his thumb across your knuckles. "You should uhm…probably get going. Don't wanna keep you from any other plans you might have tonight."

You felt your pulse start beating furiously at your neck when he answered you. "What plans?"

Didn't Pearson have a full blown meltdown over him talking about a hot date and then seeing you with him at dinner? What the fuck was he going on about?

"Come on, Conrad, you don't have to pretend, it's just us here. Pearson practically yanked my spine from my throat earlier at the restaurant harping on about you having plans tonight so really, I'm sure you have better things to do on a Friday night you don't have to feel like you're…I don't know, obligated? To spend time with me. And at least you'll stop looking like you're doing some weird pity charity work, too--"

"Y/N, stop." He took a step toward you, closing the distance and framed your face in his large hands. "The only plans I had for tonight were with you. Do you remember what I told you all those months ago, that first night I came here?" You only stared at him blankly, wordlessly prompting him to answer it himself. "I wanted to let you know that I'm here. For you. And I still am. I always will be."

Before you could respond, he leaned in, pressing a delicate kiss to your lips. Fleeting, but it resumed the near violent fluttering in your stomach from the contact. He gave you no time to react before he pressed his lips to yours again, wrapping his arms around you and cradling your head with his hand before pressing you against the door.

"Look at me, sweetheart," he breathed out when he broke the kiss. Your breath hitched in the back of your throat when you saw how dilated his pupils had become after that kiss. "How is it that you're so observant of everything around you and yet you fail to see what's right in front of you?"

"Conrad what--"

"How could you look at me and not see a man so desperately, so irretrievably in love?"

You swore all the air left your lungs at his words. In love? No. This couldn't be real. This was beyond simply improbable, this was impossible.

There was no way on this Earth that he felt the same.

"I can almost hear the gears in your brilliant mind turning, Y/L/N," he said softly, weaving his fingers into your hair as he proceeded to press tender kisses on your temple and the side of your face. "Invite me inside. Let me take you to your bedroom. Let me show you what you mean to me."

Before you could think about it any longer, you wordlessly slipped your key into his hand, slowly nodding your head. The only response you got from him was him latching his lips onto your neck, groaning into your skin as he lifted you off the ground with one arm, unlocking your door with the other.

He'd carried you all the way upstairs to your bedroom, constantly pressing a kiss wherever his lips could reach. When he started fumbling for the light switch, you tried to hold out your hand to stop him. "No lights," you muttered. If you wanted this to go anywhere even remotely good tonight, that would require him not running for the hills the second he got you naked.

"Without the lights, I can't see you, sweet girl," he said back teasingly, kissing along your jawline until he captured your lips, smiling into the kiss.

"Exactly," you murmured against his lips, causing him to chuckle against your skin.

"Seeing you is the best part of my day," he told you simply, flipping the switch on and bathing your bedroom in a warm white glow. Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of the brilliant smile he gave you once he saw your face. "There you are."

He set you down on your feet, touching the top button of your shirt with a question in his eyes, only proceeding to undo the button when you have him a slight nod. Once enough skin was exposed to him, he started to trace a line of kisses across your collarbone, running his hands down your arms to strip the shirt off from you. And then he sent your mind racing as he gave you the same treatment working both your pants and panties down your legs.

"I've dreamed of this since the island," he whispered into your skin, kissing his way back up to your lips as he reached behind you, unclasping your bra. "Lie down on the bed, my love. Let me see you."

He kept your hand in his as you lowered yourself to lie on your back, your heart thundering in your chest and your lip quivering as his eyes hungrily roamed your body. Thoughts began to swim in your head again, of how different, how much less toned nearly all parts of you were compared to him. Compared to the women he'd been with before. You tried to pull your hand away from his, to start to cover yourself.

Once he realized what you were about to do, he moved to hover over you on the bed, placing his hand in the space between your arm and your torso to block your way. "No," he said simply before leaning down to press a kiss to your lips. "Don't hide yourself from me." He kissed his way down your neck to your chest, paying close attention to your breasts, holding you steady as you squirmed under him while he kissed and sucked your nipples into stiff peaks.

"Conrad…" Your voice came out faint, the air too thick to breathe while you drowned in his attentions. His lips moved down your stomach, peppering kisses along your mound before placing his hands on your inner thighs and gently parting your legs, opening yourself more to him.

You clenched around nothing watching him lick his lips before his eyes found yours, desperate whimpers coming out of you when he started kissing along your inner thighs. The ache between your legs started to grow stronger the closer his mouth got to where you craved him.

"Conrad!" Your back arched off the bed when he licked up the length of your slit and pressed a fleeting open-mouthed kiss to your clit.

"Lay back down, sweetheart." Your back immediately met the mattress again at his soft spoken order, your stomach fluttering violently again at the sight of him standing over you and pulling his shirt over his head. "You are the most breathtaking sight," he breathed out. "My love…"

"Could say the same from here," you shot back, still struggling to breathe properly under his gaze. The air was practically stuck in your throat the second his hands went to his pants, taking his time to undo his belt and pants, every muscle on his perfectly sculpted body moving and flexing as if he was trying to seduce you with such a seemingly mundane action.

As if he needed to seduce you.

The sound that came out of you was borderline inhuman the second he pushed his pants down his legs, and you'd gotten a good look at the sheer size of him. There's no way that's gonna fit, you thought nervously. "Conrad, I don't--" You huffed out a deflated sigh. "It's been an embarrassingly long while since I've--"

"It's alright, sweetheart." He quickly made his way back to his position on the bed, pressing a line of kisses along your jaw until he reached your lips, making an almost relieved sound against your lips. "We'll go slow. Please just tell me if I hurt you, that's the last thing I'd ever want."

Your eyes flew open at the feel of his length pressing against your entrance, your walls stretching just shy of the point of discomfort as you accommodated to his size. Any other thoughts and doubts in your mind took a backseat to the sound of Conrad's soft groans as he inched his way into you.

You'd never felt this unbelievably full.

He moaned your name in your ear. "Like you were made for me." He pressed his lips to your temple, the gesture somewhat calming your erratically beating heart. "I'll keep going now."

"Wait Conrad you what--Oh!" You felt a thrill at the back of your head once he pushed even further in, more arousal rushing and slickening your inner walls clenching around him as if pulling him deeper into you. All you could utter over the overwhelming pleasure he was subjecting you to was a faint whimper of his name.

"I love you, Y/N," he sighed in contentment, his warm exhale hitting your already heated skin before he resumed kissing along the side of your face.

"Don't say that," you blurted out. "You don't have to--"

"I want to," he cut you off, moving his head to capture your lips in a heated kiss, his tongue licking at your bottom lip. "I've wanted to tell you for so long please don't tell me to stop. I can't--"

"No one's ever said it. Not to me. I'm not--I've never been--"

Your words stilled him. He rested his forehead on yours, the tip of his nose brushing against your own. "All the more reason for me to tell you." He muffled your moan with a kiss when he inched in even more. "I love you." He kissed up your neck, gently capturing your earlobe between his teeth before kissing the same spot. "I'll say it so often everyone around us will be sick of hearing me say the words."

"Conrad…" you cried out when he finally bottomed out, your hips flush together. "Please--"

"I love you." He started moving his hips in slow grinding circles, repeating the words every time he fully entered you.

The words were lodged stubbornly in the back of your throat; all you could utter was his name while your body trembled trying to raise your hips to meet his thrusts. Meanwhile a vicious voice in the back of your mind questioned if this was even real, refusing to accept any reality where a guy like James Conrad actually genuinely fell in love with you.

You lived by the saying that if something sounded too good to be true, then it probably was. And this…this sounded like a chick lit romance novel where the devastatingly handsome decommissioned soldier fell for the nerdy scientist that most days couldn't even bother to check if her hair looked alright from the back.

This was definitely too good to be true. And all you could do now was allow yourself the fleeting opportunity to lose yourself in the pleasure he was more than capable of and seemed quite willing to give you.

And brace yourself for the moment he pulled away. The moment he finally realized that yes. Yes he could do better, actually.

Before you could dwell on it any further, he pulled you out of your spiraling thoughts when his fingers made contact with the throbbing bundle of nerves above your entrance, rubbing at the spot with the same languid pace of his thrusts.

"You feel divine, my love," he moaned in your ear, pressing his lips to a spot behind it that sent your mind reeling, the tension tightening in your stomach even further. "Come for me, Y/N." He upped his pressure on your clit, still keeping the pace with his slow, deep thrusts.

The coiling tension finally snapped when he started sucking at your skin, your walls convulsing around him while your body shook under him, your hold on his shoulder blade weakening until you finally let go, arm landing on the mattress with a soft thud. He stilled his movement inside you, capturing your lips in a tender kiss while you came down from your high.

"I love you," he kept whispering between kisses. The words had you feeling the traitorous tears prickling in the back of your eyes, every part of you filled with the overpowering urge to say them back. Tell him that you felt the same.

Instead you wanted to slap yourself for the question that slipped from your mouth. "Wait what about you?"

The smirk he gave you in response had thrills shooting throughout your body, feeling the faintest tinge of embarrassment in the back of your mind when you felt your pussy clenching around him at the sight. His mouth stretched into a devilish grin as he thrusted into you in return, his eyes filled with an obvious mix of sexual and romantic intent.

"Don't you worry about me, sweetheart," he rasped, starting to slowly grind his hips again. "We're nowhere near done."

He's not coming back. He left the bedroom and give it time, you're gonna hear him leave the house.

You were being irrational, and most of your mind recognized your thoughts for what they were: absolutely batshit crazy and dead wrong. For one, Conrad left the room without a stick of clothing covering him, telling you he was going to get water. He didn't know how to navigate most of your house so it would reasonably take him a few minutes to actually go get it and come back up.

That didn't stop you from making your way to the head of the bed, and crawling under the covers, drawing your knees to your chest as if you were bracing yourself for emotional impact. You caught a glimpse of your reflection on the full-length mirror, instinctively bringing your hand up to your hair to start working at the knots and tangles that developed over the last few hours.

Conrad came back to the room at that moment, holding a water bottle and two cups, giving you a soft smile as he looked on at all the effects from your lovemaking. "You look like an angel…perched on a cloud." He handed you your cup before pouring one for himself, raising an eyebrow at you when you remained sitting motionless and staring at him blankly. "What is it, sweetheart?"

"I just--I thought you were just gonna get for--"

"Myself?" You nodded at him once he finished for you, making him click his tongue in disappointment, realizing what kind of experiences you'd had before. "You're making it too easy for me to spoil you. I could never be so selfish." He briefly touched his glass to yours, the clinking sound filling the room before you both downed your drinks.

Even while he climbed back onto the bed, situating himself beside you and pulling you into his arms, your irrational thoughts that he'll redress himself in a few minutes time and leave plagued your mind.

"You're looking at me like you expect me to disappear," he murmured, lightly tracing along the lines of your face with his fingertips. "What's wrong, Y/N?"

Come on, you stupid little scaredy cat just tell him. Three words. Three monosyllabic words so simple a kid can say them. Just say it.

"You're still here," you blurted out, immediately wanting to swallow your tongue when his face dropped.

Wrong three words, you fucking idiot.

"Do you want me to leave?" His words came out strained, as if it physically hurt him to say them.

"No, I don't. It's just…I expect it. And if I can be honest I'm still kind of…waiting."

"Waiting for what?"

You pursed your lips, a part of you already feeling silly for the words about to come out your mouth. "Post-coital clarity?"

He let out a slow sigh, his hold tightening around you while he cupped your face with his free hand, stroking along your cheekbone with his thumb. "And what in the world is that?"

"It's this--Honestly it's silly, really--"

"It doesn't seem silly to you." He leaned in to press a soft kiss to your lips, pulling you closer when you melted against him at the gesture. "So it's not silly to me. Tell me what it is."

You took a deep breath, your fingers absentmindedly tracing along the lines on his abdomen while you explained. "It's this phenomena that…once you've slept with someone, the attraction goes away. Your mind's more clear, you're no longer overpowered by this attraction and you realize that the person you just had sex with isn't as appealing as they were before you got together."

It took him a few seconds before he spoke again, maneuvering you so that you were now on top of him, straddling his stomach, his hands skimming up and down your sides.

"Why is it so hard for you to accept that I love you?"

The question seemed so ridiculous to you. "Because nobody ever has. Nobody does--"

"You're wrong," he cut you off, pulling you close until your chests were pressed together. "I know it might not happen often but it's happening now. You're wrong, and I'm living proof of it. Because I'm here. I'm here and I love you. The only clarity that came to me is that I want more than anything for us to become more. For what we shared tonight be more than a one-time thing."

He wrapped his arms tighter around you, pulling you into a tender kiss that had your heart fluttering when he licked into your mouth, his tongue gliding against yours. "I'm no good with words," you said breathlessly when he broke the kiss, his chest heaving against yours. "I've never been able to say how I feel, I can't--"

"Shh it's alright, sweetheart," he breathed, holding you by the back of your neck to rest your forehead against his. "You don't need those fancy words you use in your report. It's just us here. Whatever you wish to tell me, in the plainest words--"

"I love you, too."

A/N: I've finally finished this mega chonker of a piece! And I've given 'you deserve better' Conrad his happy ending with his precious bb 🥹🥹

Next up is the final story in the Kinktober 2023 initial goal: Fingering with President Loki 😳👀 And lemme just tell y'all now…it's gonna be at least 2k words long because I haven't even gotten to the smutting yet 🥴

'everything' taglist: @simplyholl @loopsisloops @imalovernotahater @coldnique @loz-3 @huntress-artemiss @salempoe @vickie5446 @athalialaufeyson @lokiprompts @kats72 @kikster606 @asgards-princess-of-mischief @lokixryss @thomase1 @mischief2sarawr @peaches1958 @lovingchoices14 @lunarnights95 @goblingirlsarah @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @creationsbyme @maple-seed @mjsthrillernp @ladyofthestayingpower @mygfloki @sititran @glitterylokislut @ozymdias @fictive-sl0th @lokidbadguy @mochie85 @silverfire475 @joyful-enchantress @elizabethmidnight2017 @holdmytesseract @smolvenger @gigglingtiggerv2 @lokidokieokie @superficialdomina @anukulee @kmc1989 @november-rayne @goddessofwonderland @buttercupcookies-blog

Kinktober taglist: @azula-karai-27

#james conrad x reader #james conrad x female reader #james conrad smut #james conrad x reader smut #james conrad fanfic #james conrad fanfiction #kinktober #kinktober 2023 #muddyorbs writes

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atsadi-shenanigans · 1 month

Text

You Could Just Ask

Summary:

“You still gonna be a jackass to our friends instead of just asking me to pleasure you?” you say. He swallows. His adam’s apple bobs. “If this is my reward, absolutely.” He can’t see you smile at this angle. He can feel your grip leave his cock to slide your fingers through his hair before you grab. Still slow, still steady, giving him plenty of opportunity to stop you. He don’t. He lets you pull his head back, bare his throat, and only whimpers and shivers against you.

Or: Astarion is terrible about communicating what he wants. But Eleanor is getting good at translating gremlin.

Astarion has been in a fucking mood for two days now. It’s driving you nuts, it’s driving everybody nuts, and by all accounts, it’s driving him nuts. Ain’t nobody can put a finger on it, neither. He’s well fed, y’all went on a murder spree day before yesterday, and he even found a nice, silk jacket to wear around camp.

Man’s got it made.

And decided to be a bitch about it.

You sit at the breakfast fire, needlessly poking at the embers with a stick while he makes snide swipes at Gale’s cooking (which he don’t eat), Karlach’s clutter (she just found a stuffed owlbear to match Clive), and Lae’zel sharpening her weapons (he got a point, there).

Even Wyll stares at the fire, shoulders set in a tense line. Something’s gonna snap if somebody don’t do something.

“It’s not as if you can deal any real damage,” Astarion says to Shadowheart, who tried to get him off Gale’s ass and is now taking the brunt of it. “We all saw how accurate your spells were in the temple.”

She looks all cool and collected. Just lifts one of her eyebrows. But her knuckles are white as her fists tremble. Shadowheart fought off the mother superior of her former, well, it ain’t called a church, here. But she fought the bitch and won and she paid for it.

“That’s it.” You stand

Astarion clocks the movement and turns to face you (stares down his nose at you; or tries to since you two are the same damn height).

“Y’all wanna head out?” you say over your shoulder to the others as they stash their day gear into their packs. “I think we’ll stay here, today.”

“Gladly,” Gale mutters in an outside voice.

“Welcome to it,” Karlach says which means hoo-boy, even she’s getting pissy.

Wyll gives you a blank look, that slowly morphs into a sly “good luck” sort of grin. Turd. Everybody thinks the Blade of Frontiers is so upstanding, much nobility, wow. But Wyll is a sly little shit, is what he is. He just hides it real good until it’s time to strike.

They all shuffle on outta there double quick. Astarion watches them go as he checks his nails for damage that ain’t there.

Then you’re alone—well and truly, Shadowheart and her half-elven hearing—and you turn to your exasperating lover.

“The fuck was all that?” you say.

He just looks at you, all unimpressed. Sniffs. “What was what, dear? You’ll have to be more specific.”

You will not throw your camp slipper at him. He dodges too well, and then you got to go fetch the damn thing before either Scratch of Sweetums gets it and demolishes it (or drops it in the river, bad dog) (but not really bad bad dog, and he got pets later on, anyway).

“You’re being a dick,” you say.

To which he, predictably, rolls his eyes. “As if it’s my fault we’re surrounded by incompetent idiots.”

His gaze flicks down. Just for a second. You almost miss it, but it landed on the top of your tunic. You got yourself a new one of those, too. But only to wear around camp, cause it’s got itself a damn titty window under some satin neck straps. Astarion’s pupils flare wide a second, and then he glares at you as if challenging you to comment.

You been together several times, in several way by now. He usually initiates (you did once). But you got a suspicion.

You step closer. Reach out slow and careful to crook your finger over the top of his trousers, since he tucks his shirt in and all. Then you pull, slow and steady, leave him plenty of time and distance to stop you or pull away.

But his pupils dilate again, and he steps into you. Lets you drag him flush against your front.

“Astarion,” you say. The man actually licks his lips. “Did you get horny and decide to be an asshole to everybody about it?”

A hint of a smile tugs his lips before he buries that under scorn. “Of course not.”

But you’re learning his tells. The way his gaze hovers over your face, darts down to the titty window and the hint of cleavage like a hummingbird. Also the less than subtle grind against you as he says it.

“Were you being a dick to get us alone?” you say.

A pause, this time. His voice wobbles a touch when he says, “No.”

You lean in. Catch the way his face tilts to meet you.

“I think you’re lying,” you say against his lips. “I think you want me alone, and I think you went all bratty so I’d feel ornery about it.”

His inhale stutters. A minute shiver runs through him. “And what would you do if you were, ahem, ‘ornery?’”

It’s mind boggling how much things’ve changed in the months since y’all met. Since the disastrous first days of…this. That you can be here now, with him, talking like this? It’s a minor miracle.

He’s so fully pressed into you you can feel his cock twitch even through the cotton trousers.

“Did you do all this so I’d fuck you?” you say. You cannot keep the smile off your face or outta your voice.

He finally cracks. Closes his eyes and runs his lips over yours. Drawls, “Maybe.”

“Is it the strap?” you say. He’d picked it out and purchased it in the city, and then the nice sex shop man showed you how to put it on and, well, implied how to use it. And clean it (that part was very explicit, detailed instructions.)

The tip of his tongue swipes your upper lip. His hands ghost up your sides.

“Would you?” he says.

He takes charge in the sheets. But he bought that dildo to use on him, and he seemed to enjoy it when you did (he whimpered as you fucked him).

You’re learning what you like in terms of dirty talk (it’s surprisingly graphic). He’s an excellent teacher. So you gird your loins, ignore the heat all the way down your neck, and open your mouth. “You want me to spread you wide on my cock and fuck you all better?”

He sucks in a gasp. “Gods, darling, yes.”

Then his lips crash into yours and you’re both stumbling towards y’all’s shared tent.

The rest on AO3 for very, very rated E reasons.

#feeding alligators fic #these two shitheads #you could just ask #surprise smut #astarion smut #astarion fic #tavstarion smut #man's getting pegged #and edged #Astarion doesn't know how to ask for things #this is everyone's problem #was gonna wait to post #had a Monday #said fuckit let's go #astarion #astarion x tav #astarion bg3

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dellalyra · 11 months

Note

Imagine the continue of your latest family formation where reader has high fever and starts crying in her sleep because she's seeing satoru get killed by toji again

The kids getting worried aick because "when did gojo die?!"

And satoru not knowing how it still haunted you even after so many years

A/N: I’m sorry this took so long!! I wanted to think it through but I hope u like it bc I loved writing it!!

CW: hints at ptsd, mentions of blood and canon typical violence and sickness, angst but not really? Soft soft soft soft

Family Formations • Kind

You were tossing and turning in your sleep, fever from the flu still wreaking havoc on your body. Satoru was worried, but luckily, he had Shoko on speed dial – and she would never let anything happen to her precious best friend. You had kicked the sheets off long ago, and the mumbling had started rather funny.

“Satoru you can’t take home a seal from the beach.”

“Megumi let go of Satoru’s hair.”

“Get that stick outta your ass Nanami – you used to smoke blunts on the school roof.”

He was loving it; it was like a free stand-up show!

But then, you started to whimper. He had fallen asleep, and it took some time to rouse him from his slumber but what woke him up was you sobbing in your sleep.

“Please no, please don’t take him from me. Please, not him. Not again. I can’t watch ‘Toru die again, please god NO NO NO NO!” At this point he was kissing your head, whispering your name to wake you from the fever dream, tears in his own eyes because he knew what you were dreaming of.

You gasp awake and bolt upright, wrapping your arms around him.

You stay sobbing in his arms as he consoles you.

“It’s okay, Princess - I’m here. It was just a dream, I’m safe, you’re safe, and the kids are safe. Nothing gonna happen again, okay? He’s gone. Nothing can take me from you again.”

You had been there; you had seen the father of the kid in the next room over. You had heard the burst of the blade through your love’s pale throat, the ivory skin turning crimson red in an instant as he gasped and choked. He had died in your arms. You had screamed and cried and managed to lodge a vine through the shoulder of the man who had done.

But he was here. He fought his way back to you.

You ran your shaking hands over his face and torso – as if checking for injuries.

“I saw it all again, he came back. He had you and he did it again and I couldn’t move and then you were dead again.” You sobbed into his shoulder. He hated seeing you this way, he still had nightmares of the day himself – sometimes the true events, sometimes reversed.

As your breathing steadied, he unwrapped himself from you.

“I’m gonna make you a hot chocolate, okay? I’ll be right back.”

You nodded, sniffing into your Kurama plush.

Satoru opened the door to your room.

And he wasn’t prepared for two wide eyes faces on the other side looking up at him.

“Shit.” He spoke. He knew they’d heard, they’re faces told the whole story.

“You died, papa?” Tsumiki whispered.

Your head perked up at the voice.

“Shit.” You agree.

Megumi’s wide eyes and uneasy stance mirror his sisters.

There was no avoiding this conversation, even at 2am.

Satoru looks at you, you echo his panicked look. Fuck, you two are only 21! How do you explain all this.

“C’mere, come sit on the bed for a minute.” You were past the infectious stage now, so it didn’t matter if they got close. They did as say. Tsumiki crawling up to sit facing you and Megumi dragging his frog plush up to sit beside you. Satoru takes his own side of the bed.

“I’m sorry you guys heard that. I was having a really bad dream which made me feel a bit scared.” You pet their little heads.

“Did you really die?” Megumi pipes up, eyes focused on Satoru.

“Yeah, kid. A long time ago. I got pretty badly hurt and I died for a minute, but I used my technique to bring myself back.” He softly says, and these are the moments that you realise how great a father he really is.

“How did you get hurt?” Tsumiki asks, quietly.

You lock eyes with your boyfriend. They’re too young for the truth right now.

“He got hurt trying to keep a little girl safe.” You add.

They’re silent for a minute.

“Who hurt you?” Megumi asked.

“A really, really strong man. I wasn’t as strong as I am now – and I was tired.” Satoru adds.

Another bout of silence.

“Will the man come back?” Megumi asks again. At this point, there’s fresh tears on your cheeks.

“No, baby. He’s never coming back.” You pet the boy's hair. You’re not going to tell him the man in question was his father, 8 years old is too young for the truth.

“How can, you be sure?” Tsumiki’s voice wavers, and she moves closer to Satoru. She’s worried, you can’t appease her worries by just saying he went away, a grain of truth will do.

“Because he died, sweetheart. He can’t hurt anyone anymore.”

“Are you sure he died? Because Satoru died but he came back.” Megumi questions, ever too smart for his age.

“Hey! I’m unique little man, only the strongest can do that.” He winks, but humour won’t work now.

“We’re sure he died honey.” You nod at the boy.

“How are you sure?” Tsumiki interjects, Jesus you’re getting the fifth degree here at 2am.

You both quiet for a second.

“Because I’m the one who did it, ‘Miki.” He grasped her little hand.

Funnily, that seems to ease both their worries. What these kids have been through, it astounds you – not that you or Satoru had it any easier.

However, it’s a testament to their trust in you both. They know that Satoru would kill for them, and you would too. They feel safest when you two are the ones handling the issues, because they will forever be safe with you both.

“And it makes you sad, because you were there Mama?” Tsumiki asks, petting your hair, as if she’s the one to comfort you.

“I was, angel. I was very scared, and sometimes when bad things happen your brain remembers them, and that’s why sometimes we have nightmares.”

“Were you hurt?” Megumi asks.

“No honey, I was just very scared and very sad. You see, I love Satoru so much that I felt like I was dying too, because of how much my heart hurt. Him and I are made of the same star, and that’s why we love each other so much. So sometimes I get bad dreams of it happening – but I promise you both. We’re all safe now.” You pull all three of them into you, whispering ‘I love you’ to Satoru.

After a minute of family hugging, Satoru leaps up.

“I’ll be right back, 4 cups of hot chocolate with extra cream for Tsumiki, extra cinnamon for Megumi, extra marshmallows for my princess and extra sugar for me!” He does a silly walk out the door to make the kids laugh – well, Tsumiki laughs, Megumi rolls his eyes.

They snuggle in between your pillow and Satoru’s.

“Does everyone get someone made of the same star, mama?” Megumi asks.

You smile at him.

“Some people get lots of people, some people get friends, some get boyfriends or girlfriends. There’s matches out there for everyone, in all ways. Some people know them forever, some people only meet when they’re really old. Your papa and I were lucky to reunite when we were so young.” You muse.

“I hope mine is a Prince, or a handsome King!” Tsumiki says.

“You’d make a great Queen, ‘Miki.” You giggle with her.

“I hope mine is kind.” Megumi quietly muses. Your sweet soft boy, so much more sensitive than he pretends.

The other half of your star walks back in at that moment, holding a tray of mugs – steaming and overflowing with cocoa.

You all curl up in your California King Bed that night, you and Satoru holding hands over the heads of the kids between you – Tsumiki by Satoru, and Megumi by you. You lock eyes and smile as they both fall asleep.

“Goodnight, Princess.”

“Goodnight, ‘Toru.”

7 years later, Megumi’s other half of his star came barrelling into his life, all smiles and pink hair and chaos – but as he had hoped, completely and utterly kind.

Recommended Listening:

Matilda - Harry Styles

#jjk #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #anime #dad!gojo #family formations extras #family formations drabbles

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aakariiiii · 6 months

Text

I kept tellin’ her to piss off ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

features: Draken x fem!reader

contains: Draken and reader are arguing in front of all toman members

a/n: yaaayayy my 3rd story since i’ve gotten back!!!! uts draken this time since iys been a while since i’ve written a fic ab him (mostly cuz last time was bad n i keep making him ooc n its so annoying ugh) but yeah i hope u guys enjoy this and i hope i see some requests in my inbox soon!!!!.!.!

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Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine a fighting with my boyfriend during a Toman meeting. Never.

So why is it that we are currently yelling at each other, caught in a storm of emotions, while hundreds of eyes glare at both our faces?

“Well, you started it, Ken,” I argue, my body filled with heat as anger curled inside of my guts, burning. Or maybe it’s sadness, because the sight of her arm hooked around his stung, a pang of hurt I couldn’t shake.

“Haa? Are you fucking serious right now? I started it? Entertain me, dumbass,” he yells bewilderingly as a bulging vein appears out of his forehead.

“You know damn well what you did,” I whisper as my emotions threatened to spill over, but I fought to keep them at bay.

Whispers and piercing gazes felt like relentless spotlights, each adding weight to the already burdened air. To make it worse, being surrounded by an audience with menacing curiosity felt suffocating.

A chilly whisper of the passing wind delicately teased my senses, I found solace in its fleeting touch. I could feel Draken’s unbearable yet contradictingly reassuring presence creep up near me. A callous but soft grip embraced my wrist and pulled me out and away from the intrusive crowd, pumping a sense of relief within me. The hushed whispers and murmurs faded away into nothingness as Draken pulled me further away.

As if a thousand feathers took flight from my shoulders, carrying with them the burden that had settled there, I had felt much more comforted.

So why is it that unbidden tears raced down my cheeks, tracing an unexpected river of emotion, painting the canvas of my face with the silent tales my heart refused to voice. The tails that would carve unwanted scars from the truth unveiling within Draken’s awaited words.

Surely, he didn’t cheat right? is what I’d like to tell myself but his arm hooked around hers tells me otherwise.

A despondent sob escaped my mouth shattering the fragile silence as my feet came to a halt, and his grip released my pale wrist.

“Y/n, look at me,” he breathed, his voice tangled with a mess of melancholy.

I shake my head as my sobs continue to dash out of my mouth and my hands involuntarily start rubbing at the tears cascading down my cheeks.

But then I feel the touch of his benignly crude fingers tilt my chin so that his eyes can meet mine. His eyes, black as night, contrarily exuded a soothing presence, urging trust with their serene and comforting gaze.

“Y/n—I swear it’s ain’t what you think. I’d never cheat on you, dumbass. Promise—she was buggin’ me the whole day and I kept tellin’ her to piss off. I was so ready to punch the hell outta her tell I reminded myself that she’s a woman—I swear. I have never talked to her after that day, y/n. You gotta trust me, because both you ‘nd I know that I’m not the typa person to do that kinda shit,” he exhaled, arms falling down to my waist.

I didn’t know how to react, deep within me, I knew Draken would never do that to me. He’d never do that, so why did I not go and ask him about it instead of pulling the shitty move I did by going around his team members and sparking up unwanted conversations with them, while Draken was watching me. He must have felt awful.

I curse at myself as I bring my head to his solid, toned chest, wrapping my arms around his torso.

“I’m so—so sorry, Ken,” I sniffled.

“I do trust you—I just didn’t know how to react after I saw her arm wrapped around yours—I’m so sorry for trying to get back at you the way I did earlier,” I mumble in a muffled matter as my head is buried into his chest.

“I didn’t know you get easily jealous, babe” a teasing chuckle echoed through Draken’s body as he ruffled my hair.

“Oh, shut it! Of course I’d get jealous over you!”

“Of course I’d get jealous when I like you this much,” I mumble, flustered as heat spread into the apples of my cheek.

And with that, he broke our warm embrace to pull me into a kiss that blazed with the fervor of our shared affection, each touch a spark igniting an inferno of love between us.

“I’m joking, babe. I love you so much” he said while pulling away.

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beforeimdeceased · 7 months

Text

ELECTRIC LADY… 💋📺🚬

pairing: 70s!ellie x reader

synopsis: today is nothing like yesterday.

author’s note: whipped this up kinda quick while watching ash asylum.

part one. > part two. > part three.

⋆˚✿˖°

“and more on the shocking news we covered earlier tonight, the man found dead was 36 year old Benson Standold. not much on the fugitives that killed him, but a witness has disclosed that they saw two young women running away from the scene—“

the radio whirrs as ellie turns the channel.

“got on board a westbound 747…”

“dammit shit fuck!” you scream. she’d pulled the cigarette out of her own mouth and handed it to you, the unkept ashes falling onto the skin of your thigh. you wince, taking a drag. “what have we done?”

“listen, he was gonna hurt you. and you didn’t do anything, i was the one holding the knife.”

you shake your head, holding back a river of tears. “weren’t we just two kid in love yesterday?”

you’d both gone to get breakfast and were on your way back, when ellie noticed a car following in her rear view. she took a couple harsh lefts, sharp rights, and stopped over to the side when it was still there. she’d gotten out to confront him when he threw a string of slurs at her. hollering about his perverse thoughts. hollering about you.

he went to attack her and she fought back. ellie fought to win, nothing less. this was something he’d been forced to learn the hard way. now you were speeding off to god knows where with your things still at the hotel. a small sum of money, gum, and a pack of cigarettes on your person.

“that was yesterday, doll. if you ain’t noticed already, things have changed.”

you bite your lip. “what if we just tell the police what happened?” ellie chuckles. “we ran. and they wouldn’t believe me anyway. listen, we can play this like i kidnapped you or something? murderous frenzy? way outta my mind? that might work.”

you stare at her like she actually is way outta her mind. “goddamnit ellie! i’m not letting you go to fucking jail for me! now shut up and keep driving.”

⋆˚✿˖° 7 years prior

you were dazzling in the low light of the bar. the music seemed to flow through you, overtaking your body. your movements, effortless but enchanting. hauntingly beautiful. hypnotizing.

ellie had up and gone and come back about 20 times (if you were counting right) and you were sure you were the reason she kept returning. never a moment in her reappearance had she missed the chance to sit and talk with you. smiling at you with so much love in her eyes you thought it might change your mind about her. about not getting too attached to a balloon that was facing the wind.

you’re startled by another presence, and by the change in music you can tell it’s her. she never fails to come back with a present. pretty key chain dangling on her index finger while her thumb points to the booth. how could anyone say no to that smile?

“when do you leave again?” you ask, conflicted on how you should react to the answer. she was doing what she’s always wanted to, but not seeing her was killing you inside. you couldn’t get over all the love you had for her. she tosses a toothpick around her mouth, then smirks showing that damn dimple. “in a couple days. you free?”

it was never just sex, though the sex was incredible. she’d take you on sweet little dates. she’d show you things you that you wouldn’t even know to go looking for. she’d talk to you about how the city was her heart but you were the blood running through it. how much she…

“want you there with me, but i know that you love this little shithole town.”

you scowl at her. “don’t call it a shithole. i love this place.”

“i know.” she sighs. “that’s why i keep coming back.”

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biteofcherry · 2 years

Note

I love the thought of Lloyd kidnapping his wife and training her to be the perfect little housewife and then once she’s good and learns he’s so soft with her and a loving hubby but turns immediately as soon as she steps one foot outta line 😳

Paradise island

Lloyd Hansen x female reader

warnings: housewife kink; kidnapping; forced relationship; dub-con; discipline; smut;

~ * ~

“Look at you, sunshine” Lloyd murmured, his gaze appreciative as it slid over your body.

“Ain’t you perfect,” he hummed, pressing his thumb against your lips and smudging your red lipstick - a stroke of ruby red against your cheek.

He slipped that thumb into your mouth, grinning triumphantly when you hollowed your cheeks and sucked without prompting.

You were quickly learning to attend to his whims, predict them too. A self preservation instinct to avoid a repeat of the pain he bestowed upon you when you fought back. The fire in you seemed to turn Lloyd on, but not as much as he enjoyed putting it down by making you yield.

The welts on your ass and tights were still raised after Lloyd used a rattan cane on you.

It was thin and flexible, and hurt like motherfucker.

Hurt more than his bare hand he used on you at first. Perhaps also because when Lloyd spanked you, he fingered you too, made you cum and made you love the ache of it.

The cane brought no instant pleasure, only tears and burning that lasted long.

Afterwards, Lloyd made you clean the house in nothing but an apron, so he could watch:

“My disobedient wife carrying marks of my discipline as she learns her place.”

Your place was supposed to be as his sweet housewife; a twisted version of it he started fantasizing about after watching you interact with your actual husband. Whom Lloyd killed.

The contract for your husband’s head came first and it was as Lloyd carried it out that he got a chance to see you. You knew by now that your husband would be dead anyway, but it didn’t fully erase your guilt. There was still that voice in the back of your head wondering if he could survive if Lloyd didn’t develop a sick obsession with you.

You don’t know if it was the apple pie that you baked that day, or the happy smile on your face as you walked barefoot into the backyard to hang out freshly washed sheets, or maybe he saw you hike up your skirt and ride your husband on a chair by the kitchen table.

Whatever instigated Lloyd’s fantasies, he was adamant on making them come true for him immediately.

He took you from your home, after disposing of your husband. His laugh sinister and his promises lewd as he injected you with something.

You woke hours later in a house on a private island, no other people to help you out, no boat to take you away across the endless ocean.

Weeks of rebelling, crying, trying to fight Lloyd physically. Weeks of manipulation, sweet and condescending words, discipline that twisted your mind with how it combined pain and pleasure. You finally started giving in, started accepting there’s no other way to live your life out now than to play into Lloyd’s housewife kink and spare yourself more suffering.

What’s worse, you began settling in. Focusing on simple, daily chores relaxed you. Frantic thoughts about lost life had no chance to bloom when you had your hands busy and your mind set on thinking of how to please your husband each day.

You went on long walks; sometimes alone, sometimes hand in hand with Lloyd. The island was like a little paradise. The sand was nearly white, so soft beneath your feet. Green tones of trees and bushes were more lush, and the flowers bloomed in splashes of brilliant colors.

The water was so clear you could see and chase little, colorful fish. Cool on your sun-heated skin as you traded through it, or swam. In scandalous bikinis or naked, so Lloyd could enjoy the view as he watched from a lounging chair, sipping on a drink.

When you gave in, Lloyd gave back in return.

With expensive gifts, as well the more meaningful ones that made your head spin in confusion (like a swing he had delivered and built for you in a shaded nook in the garden). He often lavished you with his attention and time, when he wasn't away on a mission. Weirdly, he gave you more attention than your late husband had.

His dick was more than your late husband's, too.

Lloyd loved to fuck you. A lot. It was never love making, even if he took you slow and gentle it had a raw edge to it that couldn't be described as anything other than fucking.

He fucked you so good you forgot your own name. Turned you into a mess, only able to mewl and cry.

There wasn't a space or an occasion Lloyd wouldn't use for sexual adventures. And he made them unforgettably creative.

So you wore the dresses he bought you. Cooked meals and baked pies. You cleaned the house, tended the garden, went on walks along the beach.

And you stood perfectly still when Lloyd came back home after a business trip and ran a thorough inspection.

Not much a house inspection, more a wife inspection.

His piercing blue eyes bore into yours, checking if the rebellious fire was dimmed. His words sweet, but provoking, testing your submission. His touch made sure your body still responded as eagerly as he trained you to.

As he’s done now.

Lloyd pressed your tongue down with his thumb, until more saliva pooled in and you gurgled. He withdrew his digit after a moment, delicately took your fingers into his hand and twirled you around three times.

The skirt of your dress flared, your bare feet sliding on the polished hardwood floors.

He pulled you to him, his hand firm against your back as he kept you in place while he slid his other hand beneath your dress. His pleasant hum at finding you bare made you drop your shoulders in relief; he was happy with you.

“Now tell me, Sunshine, what are we making for dinner?” He kissed you, almost softly, just a hint of his usual roughness. His mustache tickled your upper lip, as his fingers brushed over your folds.

“We?” You blinked, surprised. “You- you’re going to help?”

Lloyd often watched you cook, if he was in the house at the time. Occasionally he handed you ingredients, but he never attempted to actually cook. No, that was a wife’s duty.

“Of course,” he flashed you a grin that instantly had your heart jumping, “I’ll help you work on your focus.”

He turned you around, leading you to the kitchen counter. You braced your hands against it as Lloyd pulled your dress up over your ass.

“You’ll do your best preparing dinner and I’ll introduce you to our new project.”

You didn't have the courage to ask about the project. Knowing Lloyd it will be something that leaves you torn and gasping, giving in anyway, even if your mind screams No.

Lloyd dropped to his knees behind you. His lips trailed along one of the welts on your ass, treating your bruised skin with tenderness. You knew better than to assume it's guilt or care, more likely reverent appreciation of his own handwork.

"You look so beautiful with my marks," Lloyd licked one of the welts, from one edge to the other.

"Go on," he ushered you, noticing you weren't working on dinner. "I don't want us to stay hungry for long after I'm done with you."

With shaky hands you reached for the tomatoe. You had to still your breath as your fingers wrapped around the knife's handle.

It turned ragged quickly, anyway, as Lloyd spread your asscheeks and bit into your pussy. First expert licks between your folds were merely a prep before the assault. Lloyd's tongue drew zigzags across your cunt, dipping into your entrance then withdrawing to lash your clit with rapid licks.

A jolt of pleasure, when he sucked you to the brink of ecstasy, made you lose control of your limbs - your fingers squeezing half of a cut tomato, the juices squirting all over the counter.

You fell forward, trying to grasp at a fresh one, but you could only claw at the cool surface of the kitchen counter as Lloyd's mouth moved to your other hole.

He pushed his tongue into your rim at the same time thrusting two of his fingers into your fluttering channel.

A firm slap on your tender ass caused you to cry out, your legs kicking out in futile attempt to save you from the onslaught.

And yet your cunt tightened around Lloyd's fingers.

"Sunshine-" he sang the word playfully as he stood up and pressed himself against you.

His mustache tickled your ear when he pressed his lips to it, his tongue licking lewdly over the shell.

The sound of a zipper lowering had you tense up in anticipation of that insanely good stretch. No matter how many times Lloyd took you, it seemed his cock was always too big for your pussy to get used to.

"We have to work on your multitasking skills." Lloyd chuckled, kicking your legs wider apart.

"You will need it when our little rascals start running around."

Your didn't fully register his words, the slam of his cock making your brain sizzle with s different shock. You shattered in a sudden climax, your body involuntarily opening up to Lloyd's project.

"Fuck yeah!" He moaned, pushing your head down on the counter, your cheek pressed into tomato pulp, as he pounded into you.

#Lloyd Hansen x reader #Lloyd Hansen x female reader #Lloyd Hansen x you #Lloyd Hansen fic #Lloyd Hansen smut #Chris Evans smut #Dark fic #My writing

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ckret2 · 7 months

Text

Chapter 21 of honestly everyone's just sorta used to Bill being the shack's prisoner now (title tbd): Stan & Ford have a birthday party! Bill is not invited. He still manages to find a way to be fiendishly evil.

Also featuring: Wendy deciding what she thinks about "Goldie," the shack's mysterious secret "guest."

####

Mabel slid a piece of paper across the gas station front counter, listing a dozen scratch card serial numbers spread across three different games. "I'd like these numbers in these cards, please!"

The cashier gave the paper a dubious look, then looked at Wendy. "We're not supposed to sell the scratch cards outta order."

"Please?" Wendy asked. "Just a little exception? For us?"

"We really wanna play our lucky numbers," Mabel said. "Plus, I had a vision. In my sleep."

She and Wendy gave him their best big-eyed hopeful pouty looks.

The cashier shrank back. "Well..." He averted his gaze from the adorableness that was Mabel, and sighed. "Just this once. But I don't want to see you two in here with your nonsense again." He started unrolling one of the spools of scratch cards, inspecting the numbers. "These'll be over a hundred dollars."

Wendy winced. "Ooh. Mabel?"

Mabel offered three dollars and a quarter. "That's fine! Can we start with 177 from the beach cards?"

She received the card, depicting a pastel beachy scene next to five miniature bingo boards. She confidently scratched off the card to reveal its winning numbers, pointed at the fourth bingo board where she'd just gotten bingo, and said, "That's $200! Our payout, please."

The cashier took the card, inspected the numbers, and stared at Mabel in amazement. She grinned at him. Wordlessly, he opened his cash register, pulled out several twenties, and offered them over.

"Thank you!" Mabel accepted the money and pointed at the paper. "The rest of our cards, please?"

As they left with eleven scratch cards, Mabel handed Wendy three twenties—"Here! For helping!"—and stuck the rest of the change in her pocket.

"Dude. That was awesome. You were so cool in there, like—" Wendy put on her coolest, most unruffled expression. "'Our payout, please.'"

"That's just the kind of rock star I am." Mabel put the scratch cards in her bike's basket. "Thanks for the help, Wendy!"

"Sure, any time." Especially if she got a surprise $60 out of it. "Heading back to the shack?"

"Yeah! I've gotta finish decorating for the party!" Mabel waved as she took off down the road. "See you then!"

"See you." She guessed that meant she wasn't invited to hang until the party started. Given the touchy situation inside the shack, no surprises there.

She wondered what Goldie had to do with Mabel's interesting trick with the scratch cards. She was sure there was something.

####

Bill leaned into the kitchen. "Hey! How's that cake coming along?"

Mabel stopped arranging dozens of candles in the frosting to point at the door. "Out, Bill! Nobody's getting cake until the party!"

Dipper said, "You don't even deserve a slice."

"Agree to disagree!" Bill said. "But if you don't give me one anyway, I'll annoy you about it for weeks."

"He can have a slice at the party," Mabel said. "The cake's big enough." A couple of overcrowded candles spilled off the edge of the cake. Mabel picked them up and carefully stuck them back in.

Bill fought back a laugh. "Are you sure about all those candles? If you light 'em all up at once, you'll burn off everyone's eyebrows," he said. "But unfortunately, you'd also melt the frosting."

"The frosting's already a mess," Mabel said, peering at the barely-visible HAPPY BIRTHDAY STAN & FORD hidden beneath the forest of candles. "But Soos doesn't have any of those number-shaped candles, so..."

"Roman numerals," Bill said.

"Oooh." Mabel looked at the cake thoughtfully, and started pulling out candles. "How do you make 62?"

"LXII. Fifty-ten-one-one," Bill said, then shot a grin at Dipper—who was glaring at Bill for answering before he could. "Isn't that right, smart guy?"

"Yeah," Dipper grumbled.

"You kids take the credit if they ask about the candles," Bill said. "They'll just get grumpy if they know I had any influence on the decorations."

Mabel carefully tilted the bottom leg of the L just enough to keep the tip out of the frosting, and started smoothing out the rest of the candle-pockmarked surface. "Now I've got enough empty frosting to add some decorations!" Mabel said. "I don't have enough time to draw something complicated. Maybe rainbows?"

Dipper shook his head. "I don't think either of them would be into that."

"Draw gold bars," Bill said.

Mabel blew a raspberry. "That's what you'd want on a cake!"

"No, I'd want me on a cake. Stanley likes gold! Stanford should like gold more, you could help him develop a taste for it."

"No."

Dipper suggested, "Maybe you could draw gambling stuff on Stan's side of the cake? Since they couldn't have their birthday party in Vegas like he wanted." Dipper shot a sideways glance at the reason they had to stay in Gravity Falls. (Bill shrugged. It wasn't like he'd asked the Stan twins to stay in town.) "You could do poker chips or playing cards or—"

"Dice!" Mabel said. "Dipper that's perfect, they both like dice! We can put normal dice on Grunkle Stan's side and nerdy dice on Grunkle Ford's—"

"Oh, that's great! I've got my DD&MD dice bag in the attic!"

"I'll look in the board game closet!"

Dipper and Mabel took off.

Bill waited until he was sure they were gone.

He checked out the kitchen window for witnesses, then picked up a dozen abandoned birthday candles, licked off the frosting, and hid the candles in his hoodie's hood. Too bad they hadn't left a matchbook out, but Bill knew a fun little trick with an empty aluminum can and a tube of toothpaste that would work just fine.

When the kids returned and Mabel stuffed the remaining forty-odd candles back in their box, they never noticed any were missing.

####

Mabel had put herself in charge of the guest list. Which explained why, along with Stan and Ford's actual friends, all Mabel's friends had been invited; as well as—among other people—the mayor ("he's like the Mystery Shack's best customer, Grunkle Stan!"), Shmebulock ("Jeff said Shmebulock stole the Journal 4 you started last fall, I was hoping he might gift it back"), and the Hand Witch and her boyfriend. ("Whaaat, Grunkle Ford you met her TOO?! What a coincidence! Dipper, did you know he met—oh, you did. I didn't read those pages!") It would have been a lot more awkward if not for the fact that the birthday boys were awed and humbled that so many people had attended knowing they were coming to a birthday party for Stan and Ford Pines, and none of the guests had even been bribed.

When Soos and Melody helped Mabel carry out the birthday cake, Ford laughed at the sight of it. "Did you make Roman numerals out of candles? How clever! Stanley, do you know what Roman—"

"Yeah, yeah. I watch the Football Bowl, you know," Stan said. "Honestly, I was expecting this thing to be covered in candles."

"I almost went that route," Mabel said. "But I thought I'd save that kind of firepower for the Fourth of July."

"Hah! That's my girl."

"Happy Birthday" was sung, candles were blown out, and the party lined up to get their cake. Mabel cut a slice, loaded it on a paper plate, then glanced toward the attic window. "I'll be right back! I've gotta use the bathroom. Don't open my presents until I'm back!"

She trotted into the house, taking the cake, a napkin, and a plastic spoon with her.

####

Bill met Mabel at the top of the stairs and scooped the cake out of her hands. "You're my hero, star girl." He carried it halfway back to his window seat, stopped mid-step, and asked, "You got a piece with my name on it?"

"I got the slice with the 'Birt' and took off the extra frosting!"

"Oh," Bill said. "Heh. That's—cute." And he looked so much like he was trying to pretend he wasn't genuinely touched by the gesture, that Mabel didn't have the heart to tell him she'd only thought of it halfway up the stairs.

He flopped back in his usual window seat post—where, Mabel couldn't help but notice, he had a perfect view of the party happening outside without him. She grimaced. "I'm sorry you can't come to the party," she said. "But you did torture and try to murder the birthday boys... and most of the party guests... and left half of them with lingering trauma..."

"Speaking of, how's your therapist doing?"

"Oh, good, she's good. I think she's gonna write a paper about Mabeland."

Bill fell silent, staring out the window. Mabel almost went downstairs—when he said, "You know, I was the only person who gave Stanford a gift on his thirtieth birthday."

Mabel turned back around so fast she almost tripped on the top step. It wasn't often she got a double dose of Bill lore and Grunkle lore. "You were?"

"He didn't make new friends in Oregon and he didn't keep up with his old friends from college. His parents mailed him a gift, but it got here a week late. So I taught him a couple spells to see the stars during the day and keep rain from landing on him, and told him where to be in Portland that afternoon if he wanted to pick up a free cake from a fancy bakery."

"Aww. That was... nice of you." But Mabel had to hesitate before saying it, automatically wondering what Bill's motives had been for giving the gifts and what his motive now was for sharing this.

Bill waved a hand dismissively. "Ahh, they were parlor tricks. They're easy, flashy cantrips that impress humans but don't do any harm," he said. "Not much harm, anyway. That night he told me all about how he was the only human to see his zodiac constellation on his birthday. The genius spent all day staring at the sun so he could see the stars!" He laughed.

But it quickly petered out. "And now I'm personally banned from his birthday party. Funny, huh?"

Maybe Bill was trying to get Mabel to pity him; but she kinda thought he was just pitying himself. She patted his shoulder sympathetically. "Losing friends is tough," she said. She paused. "And that's why we should be nice to them."

Bill cracked up so loudly Mabel half expected the party outside to hear him. "Okay, Glory Unicorn! I've learned today's moral about friendship. Get outta here. See if I ever tell you anything again." But he was grinning as he shooed her off.

####

When Mabel came back cakeless, Dipper gave her a dark look, but said nothing.

"Are we opening gifts yet?" Mabel picked up a box and flung an arm around Dipper's shoulder. "You've gotta open this one first! It's from both of us to both of you!" She waved it at Stan and Ford until they took it together.

Ford pointed at the card that said, "To our Grunkles, from your gniece and gnephew!" "That isn't how you spell niece and nephew?" Stan elbowed him.

"Nope!" Mabel said. "But it's how you abbreviate great-niece and great-nephew."

"Ah, I see! Very creative."

"Nice recovery," Stan muttered. Ford elbowed him back. Together they tore off the wrapping paper and opened their box.

Inside were two more boxes, each small enough to hold in one hand—a square one labeled "Stan" and a long narrow one labeled "Ford."

Stan opened his box and pulled out a thick gold chain with a coin dangling from it. Engraved on the coin in sloppy text were the words "#1 Grunkle."

Soos held up a hand. "I did the engraving! First try."

Mabel pointed at the coin. "We made it out of pirate treasure that we have for reasons that we can't talk about! There's a skull on the back!"

They'd hung it from his favorite gold chain. He'd been missing it for a week—and he'd never even suspected the kids. How about that. Choked up, Stan said, "It's—it's great." He took off the chain he was currently wearing, chucked it into the bushes, and put on his gift. "C'mere, you two." He wrapped his arms around Dipper and Mabel.

Soos held his arms out hopefully. Stan rolled his eyes, but waved him over for a hug too.

Ford opened his box. "A pen?"

Dipper said, "It has an ergonomic grip, can take standard ink refills, writes super smoothly—I tested it out myself—makes a very satisfying click, and it's red with gold trim to match your journals."

Mabel said, "I helped pick out the design!"

"... And that's why it's also sparkly."

"I didn't do the engraving on that one," Soos said. "We had a lotta spare pirate coins but only one pen, so. They got it done at the mall."

Ford rotated the pen in his hand until he spotted the (more professional-looking) engraving on the barrel, filled in with gold. "Mine says #1 Grunkle too?"

Dipper said, "C'mon, we're not gonna choose between you two."

Stan said, "Oh, I see how it is! Trying to butter us both up, are you?" He reached under Dipper's hat to ruffle his hair. Smiling, Ford carefully slid his gift into his coat's breast pocket next to his usual pen.

####

When Bill saw that Mabel was back outside, he got up, left the rest of his cake on the window seat, scooted aside a storage box sitting forgotten in a corner of the attic, and pried a loose board from the wall.

He took his stolen candles out of his hood, wrapped them in the party napkin Mabel had given him, and stashed them in a plastic sandwich bag where he'd already stowed a crushed cider can, its edges torn and sharp.

Then he re-hid the bag, fixed the wall, replaced the storage box, gently brushed some cobwebs over the floor to hide the trail in the dust where he'd scooted the box, and turned away from his hiding spot.

To see a gnome wearing a journal like a backpack.

They stared at each other.

"You didn't see anything," said Bill.

"Shmebulock," said Shmebulock.

Bill eyed Shmebulock, the staircase, the window—and then dropped into a crouch, knees and feet spread apart like a sumo wrestler, teeth bared.

Shmebulock cracked his knuckles.

Five minutes later, Bill added Journal 4 to his hiding spot, with a mental note to find a new hiding spot the gnomes didn't know about later.

Unfortunately, Shmebulock escaped with Bill's cake.

####

Wendy squinted up at the blonde shape in the attic window. "You know—all this last week, I kept thinking I saw someone up there. I just assumed it was my imagination," she said. "Guess Goldie didn't get invited to the birthday party, huh?"

"Nope," Dipper said. "And for good reason."

Wendy laughed. "Yeah, sounds it."

Dipper glanced toward his grunkles. At the moment, Ford was opening a cheap set of watercolor paints and giving Mabel an exasperated look. ("I thought we could try them out together! And hate them together!" "All right, that might be fun.") He lowered his voice and picked at his cake. "So. You found out the big secret, huh?"

"Yup," Wendy said. She lightly punched Dipper's shoulder. "Hey—don't look so glum, man. I'm not mad you didn't tell me. There's some kind of family drama and a missing person case involved. I get it—you don't talk about that kind of stuff outside the family."

"Yeah, hah. Right," Dipper said. "So, what do you think of... Goldie?"

Wendy glanced up at the figure in the window. "We didn't talk a whole bunch before Goldie and Stan started arguing about plagiarism," she said, "but I got that she's some kind of wildcard paranormal investigator who gives off insane grifter energy. And seems really mentally messed up from being trapped in another dimension, but like, the kind of messed up that probably makes you fun at parties?" She was already mentally playing Goldie off of her friend group, trying to figure out how well she'd mesh with them. She seemed like the kind of person who'd be into some harmless trespassing and recreational vandalism. "How old is Goldie? She was working on a Ph.D., so that's what, mid-20s? Mid-20s but actually mid-50s after not aging for thirty years? Honestly, if I just met her on the street I would've thought she was like, 15. She does not look her age." Maybe it was the lack of makeup?

Under his breath, Dipper muttered, "You have no idea." He glanced away from Wendy, stuffed a large forkful of cake in his mouth, and mumbled to himself, "How much should I say? Sharing too much could be dangerous, but if I don't say anything..." Mumble, mumble.

Wendy would never tell Dipper how funny it was that he monologued to himself and hoped nobody would notice. Usually she'd politely ignore him, but if there was something dangerous... She lightly elbowed him. "Dipper. Come on," she said. "I can tell something's eating you. You can trust me."

"Ugh, I know, but..." Dipper glanced again at the rest of the birthday party—just far enough to be out of earshot, currently entranced by some thingamajig Fiddleford had gifted the Stans—and let out a heavy sigh. Voice low, he said, "Okay, Wendy, listen. For your own safety, you need to know that Goldie is way worse than whatever you heard about him last night. And I can't tell you why, because of reasons I also can't tell you—believe me, I wish I could tell you, but—don't trust him, okay?" Dipper gave her an earnest, pleading look. "Just don't. He's dangerous. That's all I can say."

It figured that even after Wendy learned the big secret, she'd just find another, smaller secret hidden underneath. Like a matryoshka doll. (She quietly made note of the "he" and wondered if Goldie had been part of the queer scene in the 80s, or if he'd only figured himself out while he was in ghost land.) "I'm assuming he's dangerous for Weird Spooky Paranormal reasons?"

"Yeah," Dipper said, teeth grit. "Yeah, basically."

He wanted to tell her more, she wanted to know more, and she was ready to play 20 questions on Goldie's backstory. Picking through what she'd learned last night for clues, Wendy asked, "Is it connected to Ford's research? All the weird magic stuff he got into?"

"Um." Dipper shrugged uncertainly. "Y...yeah? But... bigger than that?"

"Is it portal stuff." What was the most dangerous thing she knew of that was connected to the portal. "Is it Bill stuff."

Dipper let out an anguished groan, pulled off his hat, and buried his face in it. "I can't tell you more than I already have!"

"Oh my god it's Bill stuff."

Dipper eloquently said, "MRRGHF."

"Okay got it, so Goldie was some kind of Bill groupie or discovered how to summon him or something. Something like that. I don't need to know the details! But he's totally Bill-adjacent."

"Yeah. Yeah. Yep." Dipper nodded emphatically. "Bill-adjacent is... the best way to describe Goldie."

"But Bill's gone, right? So Goldie's like a cultist without a cult leader. Doesn't that mean he's harmless now?" Wendy asked. "Or do you think he's gonna try to cause the apocalypse in honor of his boss or whatever."

Dipper tugged his hat back on his head and straightened it out. "I'm sure he'd try to end the world again if he could, but... we're all still trying to figure out what he can do."

"So, domestic terrorism risk. Cool," Wendy said. "Y'know, I sorta expected to run into a guy like that in the shack eventually, but I always thought they'd be here because of Stan, not Ford." She rolled her eyes. "I'll warn you if he starts talking about ending the world or anything."

"Thanks, Wendy." Dipper glanced uneasily toward the birthday party. (They were still distracted, currently trying to douse the flamethrower on Fiddleford's birthday gift. It was trying to eliminate the competitor gifts.) "Just... don't tell anybody else, okay? If the town finds out that Goldie is—you know—Bill-adjacent..."

"Relax." She pantomimed zipping her mouth. "I'm not gonna organize an angry mob."

She glanced up at the attic window. Goldie was still up there, staring down at the party. He noticed Wendy staring and made a face at her.

She made the same face back, and saw him silently laughing. Okay, he had bad taste in friends, obviously; but Goldie seemed kinda cool in an unhinged way. From what Wendy had gathered, Bill had conned and then betrayed half the people she knew—and if the Pines had only just managed to get Goldie back on this plane of reality, months after Weirdmageddon, that meant Bill hadn't bothered to rescue him when he could, so Goldie was just another victim. Maybe he just needed to be reintegrated into society.

Dipper said, "Hey, Stan just poured punch on the robot and it made the fire worse. Do you think we should help?"

Wendy looked at the fire—and looked up at the fire. She was moving before she spoke. "Yeah, let's do something about that."

They rejoined the rest of the party, and Wendy put Goldie out of her mind.

####

Ford stared at the ring on his left sixth finger.

Welcome back, the Hand Witch had said.

Thirty years ago, he'd met her at a carnival. She'd told him that he'd chosen the wrong allies and would doom himself for it. She'd given him a ring with a blue cabochon and told him that if it ever turned black, there was no hope for him.

He'd dismissed her as a phony palm reader; and, the night he'd decided Bill was right about Fiddleford not being bold enough to follow through with the portal project, the ring had turned black, and he'd thrown it in the lake.

Now here it was on his finger again.

He didn't think her a phony now. Everything she'd told him had been true. And anyway, it was hard to doubt she had real magic when she spent half the party trying to stop two small disembodied hands from escaping her pockets to visit Mabel.

"Why are you giving this back to me?"

"It's your birthday! And I thought it might be useful."

"For what? Am I in danger?"

"I don't know, I'd have to give you another reading to see." She had pulled a cartomancy deck from her pocket. "Do you want me to?" The card on the bottom of the deck had been a triangle with a snake slithering through its eye socket.

Ford hadn't wanted a reading. He knew now that what he'd called superstition back at that carnival might be a legitimate form of prophecy he simply didn't understand; but he was tired of living his life by signs and portends.

All the same, it was comforting to see that his ring was blue.

Ford's view of the ring was blocked by Stan shoving over the "Get Out Of One Misdemeanor Free" coupon Mayor Cutebiker had given as his birthday gift. "Hey, do you think I'd get in trouble if I made a buncha copies of this?"

Ford took the coupon and inspected it thoughtfully. "If you do get in trouble... a coupon counterfeiting charge couldn't possibly be worse than a misdemeanor, could it?"

"That's what I like to hear!"

It had been a surprisingly long day—and, by far, the best birthday either of them had had in well over forty years. (Was it really that long?) Now they were retired to the parlor Soos and Abuelita had converted into a double guest room, sitting on their beds facing each other as they got ready for sleep.

There was a knock at the door. Ford stood. "Coming—" He opened the door to see Bill's grinning face, a foot from his own. "Oh. You." Ford resisted the urge to step back, in case Bill interpreted as an invitation to come in.

"Hiya, birthday boy!" Bill's gaze immediately drifted down to Ford's coat pocket. "Hey—new pen? I like the sparkle, adds a little pizazz."

"What do you want, Cipher."

"Just to hand this over." Bill pressed a couple of envelopes into Ford's chest, and kept them pinned there with a fingertip until Ford reluctantly took them. "I knew you'd hate getting something from me at your party, so just for you I waited until all the festivities were over. You're welcome."

Ford studied the envelopes. They were two pieces of yellow construction paper that had been folded into envelope shape, and written on each one, in lurching crayon text that drifted up and down, was "Stanford" and "Stanley". "You made cards?"

"You're flattered."

"I most certainly am not."

"'The lady doth protest too much, methinks.'" Bill shrugged. "Hey, they're your birthday gifts. Toss them in the fire if that makes you happiest. You just might wanna open them first—you know, to make sure I didn't write a fire-activated explosion spell on the inside."

Stan grabbed his envelope out of Ford's hand and eyed it in deep suspicion. "And why did you make these?"

"Because it's your birthday. Come on! Why am I explaining this, it's your species's ritual."

"I mean why are you doing it? We all hate each other. We're planning your execution, here," Stan said. "So what's your angle?"

"What do you need my measurements for, you pervert."

"ALL right—" Stan stepped toward Bill, cracking his knuckles, and was only stopped by Ford's hand across his chest.

Bill leaned back against the hallway's opposite wall. "Whoa! Consider this a peace offering! You know—'no hard feelings for all the murder, attempted or planned'! I can be a polite house guest, even if I'm not a voluntary one." Bill smiled wryly, "I'm trapped on an alien planet where I know less than a dozen people and all of them hate me. It gets boring." He looked directly in Ford's eyes. "And we've got history. Is it so hard to believe I might want to be friends again?"

This time, Stan had to put a hand across Ford's chest.

Ford said, "You're up to something."

"Is that a statement or a question?"

"Statement."

"Then you don't want an answer. Enjoy your gifts! Or don't, I'm not your boss." Bill waved, and slunk around the corner back toward the living room.

Ford shut the door. He sat on his bed, examined the envelope, and glanced at Stan, who was sitting on his bed doing the same thing.

They grimaced at each other.

"Okay," Stan said. "Is this more dangerous if we do open it or don't open it?" He hefted his envelope in his hand. "This thing's pretty heavy for just a card."

"Is it?" Ford's wasn't very heavy. He turned on a lamp on a bedside table and held the envelope up in front of it, trying to see through the construction paper. "I think he's counting on us to open these. I doubt he set a trap that will activate if we leave it closed—it's not his style."

"So, what do we think. Some kinda hypnotic mind-control magic that's activated by reading it? Or is he just trying to bribe us into liking him better?"

"He probably doesn't have hypnotic mind-control magic. If he did, why would he have spent so long trying to manipulate humans into doing his bidding?"

"I dunno, maybe he's stupid."

Testily, Ford said, "He's not stupid."

"No—listen, I've been thinking about this for months," Stan said. "You spent thirty years hopping between a zillion different dimension, right? If there's already safe portals out there, why'd he spend so long tricking someone into building a crummy one that'd destroy the universe, instead of using one of those? He's gotta be stupid!"

"I've... wondered the same thing about the portal," Ford admitted grudgingly. "But, no—I've seen him use so many roundabout tricks to manipulate minds that if he were capable of overt mind control, I'm sure he'd have used it by now."

"Fine, so mind control's off the table. But we're probably safer if we leave these alone. If we open them, they might be an annoying attempt to kiss up to us, or they might be dangerous." Stan waved his envelope like a fan. "And, we're gonna open them anyway, because not knowing will kill us, right?"

In his youth, Ford had arrogantly looked down on Pandora. "Of course we're going to open them."

They opened their envelopes.

They both contained a sheet of type paper folded in half with nothing on the front and messages written inside. Ford's read, "Stanford– I'd tell you to go to hell, but you'd barely be there long enough for it to be worth the trip. Happy birthday! –Δέος" Charming. Particularly out of the heel who'd just claimed he wanted to be friends.

"Hey, what is this?" Stan held his letter out for Ford to see: "Stanley– You were only the accomplice. I won't hold a grudge. Happy birthday! –Δέος" Stan pointed at the last word, "Is this some kind of curse?"

"A signature. Bill's real name isn't 'Bill Cipher'—it's just one of many nicknames he uses when communicating with humans. And, when writing to people who know him well, he prefers to sign with that nickname. It's pronounced déos." It meant awe—whether manifested in the form of fear or reverence. And it probably was no coincidence that Bill had picked a word that, to the untrained ear, sounded so much like the Latin deus—god.

Once, long ago, waking up to find his own hand had written a letter signed by "Awe" in a foreign alphabet had filled Ford with awe. Now... well, now it looked a little try-hard, didn't it. "Between you and me, I think Bill likes that signature best because it starts with a triangle." In Bill's handwriting, the delta looked unusually equilateral.

"Really fond of his own face, isn't he," Stan said, digging in the envelope for the rest of his "gift"—and he pulled out a handful of scratch cards. "What the...?"

How the heck had Bill gotten his hands on those? Ford checked to see if his envelope had the same—and came out with five pieces of notebook paper instead, still tattered on the edge from being torn out of a spiral notebook, covered front and back with writing—multiple languages, some inhuman, with a smattering of complex sigils and symbols. The first line on the first page read "Spell to Resurrect Fowl (chicken, turkey, duck, etc.—funny at dinner parties!)" Ford slapped the pages face down on his nightstand without reading the next line.

"What is it?" Stan asked.

"Magic," Ford said, voice flat with irritation.

"A trap—?"

"No. Magic for me. Spells I don't know. The kind of knowledge I'd—document in my journals."

Stan processed that. He tossed his scratch cards down on his own nightstand. "Lemme get this straight," he said. "Less than two weeks since he tried to kill us, with no access to the outside world and no resources at his disposal but his stupid wits—without even getting his hands on a freaking envelope—he somehow managed to get us both thoughtful, considerate gifts that are deeply relevant to our personal interests and passions! Is that about right?"

"It seems to be, yes."

"That jerk! I oughta ring his neck!"

Ford nodded in agreement. "I didn't know you're into scratch cards." He tamped down the urge to lecture Stan on the statistical improbability of making a profit.

"See, if even you didn't know, now I'm even madder that he does!" Stan groaned in frustration. "I kicked the habit. Still like playing 'em if I get them as a gift."

"Hmm." That was all right, then. Couldn't lose money on scratch cards if somebody else had spent the money.

They glared together at their thoughtful, relevant, deeply unwanted gifts, trying to decide what to do about them. Stan was the first to let out a resigned sigh and snatch his up. "What the heck. They're already paid for, I'm not gonna throw away potential free money just because it came from him." He fished around in his discarded pants pockets for a quarter. "But I'm not gonna enjoy myself!" He flipped through the cards, noting they were each labeled in a corner from 1/11 to 11/11, and muttered, "Why'd he draw triangles on some of the numbers?"

Well, if Stan had caved into his curiosity... Back into the box, Pandora, and perhaps we'll find hope at the bottom.

"Mabel must've helped him get these," Stan said. "It's the only way. And these cards have glitter and unicorns all over them." He scratched off his first card, and said, "Hey, three bunny faces—how 'bout that? I made thirty bucks already."

"At least it's not a total waste," Ford muttered, skimming the pages before him.

It was a treasure trove.

A spell to uncook food. The cipher to decrypt the Voynich manuscript. A potion to change eye color. A river stone submerged not five miles away that, when dry, hovered. A ritual involving five hours of meditation and a lot of mushrooms that opened up psychic communication with Earth's nearest alien neighbors. An illusion to make the floor look like lava. ("Good for games if you're very bored and oppressed by gravity.") The names of five hitherto-unknown demon nobles, the sigils to summon and bind them, the fields of knowledge and political influence in which they were most helpful, and a few personal tips on how to best to twist their arms into doing a favor. A complicated way to grind glasses that let one see, depending on prescription strength, anywhere from several seconds to several minutes into the future. And on and on.

And Bill didn't just toss down a few mystical-sounding words and move on: in a few terse sentences after each spell, he hinted at the principles that made them work (freely mixing magic, physics, and metaphysics), the people who'd created or discovered the trick (whether human, inhuman, unearthly, or transdimensional), where Ford could go digging to independently verify the information if he didn't want to take Bill's word for it—and what other, greater things someone might use these tricks to do, if only they fully understood how they worked, if only they had the right teacher. Bill had filled the margins, scribbled extra info in red pen in between the rows of black to double the amount of text he could cram on each line. Ford could fill an entire journal just by copying, disentangling, and expanding on everything Bill had packed into this dense five-page grimoire.

Bill had given Ford more in this letter than he had in all the years he'd been posing as Ford's friend—excluding those accursed portal blueprints. He'd shared the kinds of things Ford had always dreamed his Muse might show him. He gave it away like a free sample to entice a new customer. Five pages of deep secrets meant nothing to Bill and his infinite knowledge. He could have done this all along. He only did it now to try to bribe Ford into sparing his life: see what you could miss out on?

As Ford read the pages, his hands trembled in rage.

"—two hundred dollars, two hundred fifty dollars," Stan muttered. "Those are the biggest yet." He waved the scratch cards at Ford. "I don't understand it! That's eight winners in a row! I've made almost a thousand bucks just by scratching these off—that's not luck! How's he do it? What kinda weird alien magic gives you scratch card telepathy?"

"I don't know. I had no idea he could identify winning scratch cards," Ford said. "But I'm not surprised."

Stan shook his head in amazement, and scratched the next card.

Ford crushed the notepaper pages into a ball.

And he smoothed them back out. Bill was a monster, but this knowledge was precious.

He looked at the Hand Witch's ring like it might tell him the correct course; but no matter which way his thoughts swayed, the gem remained a steady blue.

"This card's a thousand bucks all by itself," Stan said. "I've never won a thousand in my life. There's no way..." He scratched furiously at the last card, revealing symbols patterned after an array of gems and jewelry. "Five hundred!" Scratch scratch scratch— "Times five?! That's—!" He seized up all his cards and quickly tallied his winnings. "That's a total of nearly five thousand dollars!" He let out a disbelieving laugh. "Who needs Vegas? This monster's been better to me than she ever has!"

"Stanley, that's exactly what he wants you to think," Ford snapped. "He's giving us everything we want so we'll be more reluctant to kill him. This is less than chump change to him! Don't forget that his goal—"

"I know! I'm not stupid, I know what he's doing. Lotto numbers aren't worth the safety of the universe. But sh—shoot, Stanford, he handed me five grand for free and I'm keeping it."

"Fine," Ford said. "Fine. I suppose there's no point in throwing it away on principle."

"Darn straight!"

Ford glowered down at his underhanded "gift"—this little glimpse behind the veil into the mysteries of the universe. His whole chest bubbled and burned with rage; but beneath it—twinkling like a lonely star, twinkling like hope at the bottom of Pandora's box—was something he hadn't felt since Bill betrayed him.

Awe.

It was like waking up to a letter from his Muse.

This was who Bill could be—gift-giver, wish-granter, teacher, guide, friend—and he chose not to be. Why?! When this was so easy for him—why did he have to be what he was instead?

This charitable act only made the true Bill look even worse by contrast.

Ford re-smoothed the pages, carefully folded them in half, and stored them back in their construction paper envelope. He'd leave them there until he'd independently researched every one of these spells and ensured they did what Bill said they did and that there weren't any hidden side-effects.

And then he'd see about adding this information to his current journal.

No point throwing it away on principle.

####

(Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed, I'd deeply appreciate hearing your thoughts! Thanks!)

#(me drawing Ford: *checks image reference a dozen times for tiny details*)#(me drawing Stan: *scrawls him out without consulting a reference once* Yeah that's grunkle shaped. Post it.)#grunkle stan #grunkle ford #bill cipher #human bill cipher #gravity falls #gravity falls fic #gravity falls fanart #my writing #my art #bill goldilocks cipher

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vialovesyou · 13 days

Text

𝗳𝗲𝘄 𝘁𝗼𝗼 𝗺𝗮𝗻𝘆 𝗗𝗥𝗘𝗪 𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗥𝗞𝗘𝗬

driving to drew's apartment this late was never ideal, especially since y/n was tired after a long shift having have had to stay longer to help a student land her jumps, which was incredibly hard since the student had two left feet. y/n’s head could have used some advil, and she would have been perfectly happy to stay home and sleep for twelve hours.

but when rudy called her, groaning and saying your boyfriend is wasted and won't shut up about you and you need to come pull him him to bed, she went. it was as simple as that, partially because drew was stubborn when sober and only got worse as the night went on (code for he won't listen to anyone but her )and partly because y/n got a sweet kick out of his clinginess and extra loving.

when y/n finally knocked on the apartment door, the sound of austin sighing finally as he swung open the door doesn't surprise nor offend her. madelyn and madison scurried over, welcoming her with hugs and jokes about how sorry they were that they had to call her while chase and rudy tend to the drunken blonde.

" it's alright " y/n reassured. " i don't mind "

the tv was on playing a re-run off star wars, as beer cans and empty solo cups littered the table. pink floyds's dark side of the moon played from a speaker nearby as monica approached. drew was reclined back on the ground, an arm thrown over his eyes while his other tapped along to the song. monica crouched down next to him and could hear him humming the tune.

jd stood behind y/n, feeling a little helpless " he's been talking about you nonstop since he got, like, three shots deep "

" and as much as we love you guys together " madelyn added, leaning into chase's side. " he doesn't listen very well once he gets started "

y/n shot them a smile over her shoulder before speaking. " it's okay, i get it. you guys can go if you want, this might take a while " y/n hummed, causing everyone to bid there farewells before they left since they were exhausted. madelyn, madison, chase and jd all left to their respected apartments while austin and rudy went into their rooms as monica turned her attention back to the troublesome boy. " drew? time for bed "

" i told you to fuck off, madelyn. i just want to see my girl " he grumbles without moving an inch causing y/n’s heart to flutter at the nickname. " your girl? " she questioned, a teasing smile on her face.

" yeah, you know the beautiful one?"

" might ring a bell " she muttured, shifting so her legs were crossed in a basket beside him. " yeah, well, she's the most.... the most beautiful person in the history of... of forever. so get outta here and go flirt with chase or somethin' " he lazily waved her odd, mumbling something she didn't quite hear.

a smile fought it's way onto y/n’s face as she gently placed her hand on the smooth pane of his shoulder. " oh, but i wanted to flirt with you instead. how's that sound, hm? "

drew quickly pushed her touch away, seemingly still not recognising his own girlfriend. " it sounds like my girl is gonna come for you any second now, so watch it blondie. she might be small but fuck me she can be scary " drew slurred his words as he spoke, pulling a laugh from y/n’s lips. she gently took his wrist in her hand to remove his arm from his eyes and pressed a kiss where her fingertips touched him. his eyes stayed closed, as he jutted his chin in the opposite direction in protest.

" drew, baby, i'm not killing anyone any time soon " she spoke, leaning over his chest while running a hand through his hair. he opened one eye, suspicious of her claims but quickly realised it was her , and turned to look at y/n like he'll never get the chance to do it again, his expression swallowed by a smile. " when did you get here, darlin' " he asked, smooching kisses against the girls face causing her to scrunch her nose up.

" oh, just now " she answered, laughter lacing her words. " rudy called me over " she pressed a kiss to his forehead before sitting back up, her hand quickly engulfed by his.

" you should've come sooner " his other hand made it's way to her thigh, smoothing over her skin. " i was waiting for you by myself, and - " he abruptly sat up- " there's something i have to tell you " he whispered, casting a glance to his bedroom door. " it's top secret "

with him this close, y/n could smell the vodka on his breath. " yeah? what is it? " she asked, looping her arms around his neck as he pulled her onto his lap causing her to straddle him. her fingernails scratched at the nape of his neck, to which he instinctively responded by wrapping his arms around her waist and rubbing the palms of his hand along her back.

" this is top secret, classified information, sweetheart. you can't just get it for free. everything comes with a price !" he grinned slyly, tugging her closer. knowing drew, she already knew where this was headed but played along anyway " name it, then. i'm sure we can strike a deal somehow " y/n fed into him.

he mulled over his words before speaking " hear me out "

" i'm listening " y/n reassured, shifting her hips so she could sit more comfortably. " you " he pointed at her chest. " give me three -no, five kisses for the info up front" when y/n raised her eyebrows in suspicion, he continued. " and every follow up question is worth another kiss "

#outerbanks #drew starkey fluff #rafe cameron angst #drew starkey angst #obx #rafe cameron #drewstarkey #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron smut #jjmaybankangst

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turtletaubwrites · 4 months

Note

part 2 to my lovely patron pretty please?? or just like anything with zeff works too lol

Thank you so much for the request! I've made part 2 for My Lovely Patron, and I hope you enjoy it!

My Lovely Patron ~ Part 2

Pairing: Red Leg Zeff x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1922

Ao3 Link

Summary: You are a journalist following a story about fishmen attacking a floating restaurant. You tried to ply the head chef with wine for some details, but ended up getting more than you bargained for. Your story may be a bust, but you've still got time to kill, and you know exactly how you'd like to spend it.

Rating/Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, 18+ Only, MDNI, AFAB!Reader, She/Her Pronouns for Reader, Reader Insert, Smut, Fluff, Age Difference, Flirting, Alcohol, Condoms, Penis in Vagina Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Cunnilingus, Size Kink, Praise Kink, Pet Names, Zeff is an amputee, mention of peg leg and removing it, Shameless Smut

A/N: Part 1 was my first request ever, and it was so fun to write. I wouldn't have thought to write for Zeff without the ask, but I'm so glad I did! There's something about this old chef 👨🏼‍🍳💛

It was getting late, but you didn’t want to go back to that ship now. Not when this handsome old pirates' skilled fingers had just sent you screaming to the night sky. Not while his deep laugh was still rumbling through your body as he told you more stories of his adventures.

Running your fingers up and down your water glass, you bit your lip as you worked up your nerve.

It looked like this trip was going to be for pleasure instead of business, and you couldn’t be mad about it.

“What’s got ya smilin’ like that, girl?”

Zeff grinned at you over his wine glass, and your skin flushed at his knowing smile.

You cleared your throat as you straightened in your chair, leaning forward slightly.

“I was just thinking that I’d rather not sleep on that ship tonight.”

Humming, he set his glass down, and rested his hand on his knee as he leaned toward you.

“And just where would ya like to sleep, doll?”

Your face was burning now, and you fought to keep your voice steady instead of squeaking. His sparkling eyes burned into your skin, and you shivered.

“With you, chef. If that’s alright?”

He beamed, staring at you for a moment.

“How could I deny my lovely patron?”

Zeff stood, reaching out for you to take his hand. He guided you out of your seat, and again you felt suddenly small. He wasn’t a pirate anymore, but the way he carried himself, and the broad expanse of his body made you feel delicate, fragile.

He brought his hand to rest on the back of your neck, looking over your face before he spoke.

“Let me take care of ya, sweetheart.”

His strong hand gripped you as he leaned down for a kiss. The tickle of his goatee and braided mustache were balanced with the slow, warm pressure of his lips, and the tease of his tongue as you opened for him. His free hand found your hip, pulling you close, and you hummed as your hands ran along his sides.

“Let’s get outta here.”

His large hand gripped yours, and you couldn’t stifle a giggle as he led you through the empty restaurant. He gave you a wink as he pulled you along, and you realized you wouldn’t have been able to find your way back, the anticipation was too distracting.

The steady rhythm of his steps with his wooden peg leg felt like the thumping of your heart until your rhythm sped too fast.

Finally, a dark wooden door was before you, and he tilted his head down, catching your eyes.

“Sure ya wanna spend the night with me, darlin’? I can find an empty bed if ya don’t wanna go back to that ship.”

Your body relaxed, and you grinned up at him.

“I’m sure, chef.”

A satisfied hum vibrated through him, making you sigh as he opened the door.

His room was large, and smelled of wood, smoke, and that rich scent of his skin. A large wooden desk was covered in papers, and a set of glassware with a bottle of whiskey. There were interesting items around the room that you wanted to focus on, wondering if he’d picked them up during his adventures.

But the bed caught your eye, covered in dark red blankets, a bit rumpled as if he’d rushed to make it in the morning. It was huge, plenty of room for his large frame. And maybe one more, you thought as you chewed your lip.

Zeff poured himself a small glass of whiskey, lifting the bottle to ask you, but you shook your head. You were glad you’d cut yourself off earlier, you had a feeling you’d like to enjoy and remember tonight clearly.

After a small sip, Zeff leaned against his desk, and looked you up and down.

“Why don’t ya get comfortable, sweetheart?”

Nerves tingled through you as he winked. You set your purse by the bed, then undressed while the old pirate watched your every movement. You noticed as his eyes grew dark, and he gave a short intake of breath when you were fully nude.

With a smile, he nodded toward the bed.

“Go on now, love.”

You obeyed, crawling to lean against the pillows and headboard. He set his glass down, and moved toward the foot of the bed.

You spread your legs for him, and his mouth went slack while you teased your fingers around your clit, showing him how wet he’d made you earlier.

“Mm, such a good pet for me.”

His voice was even deeper, the heat of it making you gasp as he removed his shirt, and the small scarf around his neck. His body was large, with muscles and weight to it, his skin accentuated with some blonde, but mostly gray hair.

Holding your breath as you watched him strip, your eyes went wide as he pulled his pants down, revealing his thick cock that matched his large stature. He winked at you again as you watched his partially hard cock growing while he looked at your body on display for him.

He sat at the edge of the bed and removed his peg leg, letting his pants fall to the floor before crawling up the bed toward you.

Your eyes fought to look at his instead of the impressive shaft bobbing toward you.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I don’t have protection in here, so ya won’t have to fit all of me in the sweet little body of yours.”

“I, uh.. I have a condom.”

Zeff’s wicked grin felt searing on your skin as you pointed toward your purse. He handed it over, chuckling as you pulled out the condom for him.

“Let’s get you ready first, sugar. I want a taste.”

Zeff had moved between your legs, and you couldn’t help another nervous laugh as you spread for him. He moved his hand over you, massaging your clit with his thumb as he watched your face.

“Such a good little girl. Let me take good care of ya.”

Zeff wrapped his big hands around your hips, and brought his mouth down. You giggled again as his long mustache tickled the inside of your thighs. Then you gasped as his lips pressed a kiss to your clit, before his tongue explored your folds, tasting the pleasure he’d already brought you.

“Oh, Zeff,” you moaned softly, running your hands into your own hair as you squirmed under him.

The tickle of his facial hair only added to the sensations as he dipped his tongue into your entrance, swirling inside you as his nose rubbed against your clit. His tongue found its way there again as he brought one of his thick fingers to push inside you.

You tried to keep your moans quiet, but he lifted his mouth away to watch your face.

“Come now, girl, it’s just us in here. Be a good pet, and let me hear ya.”

He added another thick finger as he commanded you, and you gave him what he wanted.

“Yes, chef,” you breathed before letting your moans out, his fingers dragging more and more noises from you as they curled against that sweet, desperate spot.

He chuckled against your skin, the vibrations taking you over the edge until you were twitching around him, mouth hanging open as you grasped his hair, holding him against you while you rode the waves.

He crawled up to sit beside you, leaning against the headboard while he gave you a smile. You moaned again at the sight of him licking the taste of you from his lips, then shivered as he kissed your temple.

“How ya doing, love?”

You could have passed out right then, all the pleasure he’d given you tonight making your body loose and warm.

But you saw his own need standing straight up beside you, and you reached across his lap to grasp onto it.

He groaned softly as you used both of your hands to move along his length, the size of it making your body tighten.

“Mm, such a good little pet. How ‘bout ya come sit on my lap again, pretty girl?”

Nodding, you stroked the condom onto his skin, rolling your hands down his shaft and into his wiry, gray hair. You rubbed your fingers from there up his body, enjoying the feeling of his coarse hair and solid muscles, until your hands found his shoulders.

His dark eyes didn’t lose that sparkle as he watched you line yourself up. He grasped your hips, holding you steady while you started to move your body down his, your wetness helping you to take in the size of him.

You couldn’t help but hold your breath as you let him fill you up, stretching you, until you were gasping as he was fully hilted within you.

“You really are such a good little girl, aren’t ya?”

“Mmhm,” you moaned, still adjusting to him.

“Let me feel this pretty cunt of yours, doll.”

His words were like heat through your body, making you shake as he guided your hips, helping you ride him.

It wasn’t long before you were falling apart, unable to hold yourself up. You lay across his chest, the roughness of his hair moving against you with every thrust he helped you with.

He took one large hand, rubbing it along your back as he grunted softly.

Flipping you over easily, he grasped one of your wrists in his hand as he looked down at your face. You knew you were gone, already so fucked, and he chuckled at the sight of your heavy lidded eyes, your tongue hanging loose for him.

His thrusts became heavier, slamming into you with the weight of his powerful body.

“Do you like what this old man can give ya, girl? You wanted this old man to fuck ya?”

“F-Fuck, yes, chef!”

He groaned then, bringing his hand to your face now, cradling your cheek with his warm fingers while your eyes rolled back in your head.

“That’s a good girl. Let me feel ya now. Come for me, pet.”

His words poured through you until your body was clenching on him, milking his cock while you screamed his name, your nails digging into his arms.

Zeff’s movements staggered, and he groaned, lending his voice to your moans while you felt his twitching length, coming inside you.

He pulled himself out, but stayed above you, resting his forehead against yours while your breaths evened out.

“Be right back, love.”

He grabbed a cane, and went to an adjacent room, the sound of water running before he returned with a towel.

“Here ya are, sweetheart.”

His pleased smile brought your own, and you rolled closer to him as he helped you clean with a warm towel.

“Still wanna sleep in here, doll? I can find another bed for ya.”

Still feeling shy, you shook your head.

“Here sounds nice, if that’s okay.”

“Of course, darlin.”

He crawled into bed, moving the covers aside, and patted beside him.

“Come on, pet. Cozy up.”

Huffing a laugh, you lay beside his warm body, his arms wrapping around you as you let yourself relax.

This was not how you’d planned this trip to go. You had no leads on a story. But at least you had a good time.

In fact, you may come to visit this floating restaurant more often.

It’s got great service, you thought as you fell asleep with a smile.

Thank You for Reading! 💜

TurtleTaub Fanfic Masterlist

A/N: This was so fun, let me know if there are other characters you'd like to see!

Tag List for Zeff: @thewildomega I hope you enjoy it!

Buy me a coffee ☕🙏🏼

#red leg zeff smut #red leg zeff x reader #Opla smut #fic requests #Reader Insert #Fem!Reader #Smut #mine #inbox #one piece smut #red leg zeff #zeff x reader #anonymous #x reader #one piece x reader #turtletaub fics

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