Finally a comeback (I definitely did delete my previous account)
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This blog is for adults only, as it is NSFW and touches on sensitive, for some people, topics. If you're not interested in what I do, block me.
Death threats will go straight into the fap folder.
You can call me Yaevinn/Yae, I'm 19 and I go by he/him. I used to be pretty active around here but I have a nasty habit of disappearing. I write NSFW mostly and I do requests sometimes (very rarely) as well. Feel free to send me an ask, though!
English is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes in advance.
taken anons: 🦐,🫐,🥩,👰
More about requests and preferences under the cut.
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Writing takes me quite a while, and I need real inspiration to sit down and actually finish something... That's why requesting from me is like putting all your wedding money on red. Tricky and doomed from the start :(
I hella appreciate ideas, though. As freaky as possible. As morbid and dark as it gets. Send me an idea and I'll kiss your forehead!!
Fandoms I'm currently writing for:
· Supernatural, The Boys and The Witcher.
My no's:
· I do not write for female characters.
· I do not write for female reader.
My yes's:
· Male / gender neutral reader
· I'll gladly write everything regarding those listed below:
necrophilia, agoraphilia, dom/sub, non-con, blood kink, fauxcest, (made up) incest, cnc, pain play, knife play, age gaps, puppy play, cannibalism, and much more.
hi yaevinn ur so evil i loaf you🥹🥹 that castiel corruption fic dedicated to.... me ? i teared up gosh we should kiss (jokes) also that sam and sammy fic killed me as well i loaf ur writing holy freak !! idk how u do it but u write characters doing ooc things in like such a canon way like ajjsidndkdbs
anyway that's it i is wanted to praise u and thank u rq kind sir so thank yew for the evil fucked up fics king !!
- 🫐
This might be the best compliment I've ever received, I'm sobbing. You're definitely getting a forehead kiss!!
Also, thank you for the praise, wagging my metaphorical tail rn <3 I'm always happy to hear you enjoy my work!!
The latest Sam fic was genuinely just a MASTERPIECE I loved it so much and I CAN'T WAIT for the next part. I love the way your mind works (Also can I take 👰?)
Tysm, I'm so happy to hear that!! I actually loved writing that fic, I clearly do NOT play about Samcest. Hopefully I'll manage to post part two today/soon, too...
In times of misery, people always turn back to the Lord, no?
Word count: 1,5k
CW: Corruption. Manipulation. Forced dependency. Imposing religion. Fingering. Gentle sex. Penetration. Praise. Death of a friend mentioned. Depressed reader (Castiel's fault, though). Cas is messing with reader's head, etc.
Reader: No specified gender. No description of the reader. No use of Y/N.
Author's note: More corruption Cas with dedication to 🫐! I hope you'll like it!! ;P
!NSFW! under the cut
Castiel has been watching you since you were little, making sure nothing happened to you. Still, he has never gotten personally involved until now — until you suddenly decided to turn into an atheist.
Naturally, as a devoted angel who was completely subservient to God, he was displeased with the turn of events. He gave you a year, still neither revealing nor intervening, waiting for you to return to the path of the Lord.
Nothing changed, however, and Castiel couldn't leave it at that; he decided to intervene. But he didn't try to do it gently, not entirely. No pleasant warmth, no feeling as if God were calling you to Himself. No subconscious need to go to church either. Castiel operated differently.
He knew that people most often seek God in dire circumstances. This pattern never failed.
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Your life began to become more difficult week by week. At first, it was small, insignificant things. You started sleeping less, waking up in the middle of the night for no reason. Headaches became a norm, and almost every day something would fall from your hands and you would end up with broken dishes and cut fingers.
At first, you just thought you were unlucky. Things happen, no? Just apparently more often to you than to others.
But then all these little things became a nuisance. You didn't know what was happening and why everything around you had chosen to be against you.
The breaking point was two weeks ago when you received a call from the hospital. Your best friend — the person who you loved and often laughed at your lack of luck with — died in a car crash.
It completely wrecked you.
You began to isolate yourself, practically never leaving the house. You cried a lot, almost every day, and at night you curled up in bed, wondering how much longer your suffering would last.
Castiel watched from heaven as you sank into depression, your condition worsening day by day. Exactly as he planned. Now it was only a matter of time until you finally thought to turn to the Lord for help.
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The next day, you crawled out of bed, sitting slowly on the floor. Your face was still streaked with dried tears from the day before. You were hungry, tired, and most importantly, completely hopeless.
Your eyes weakly moved over your room. It was dark, your blinds closed and the door shut. The only thing that stood out in the dim light was the cross hanging above the doorframe, you forgot to take it off and it kept being there, even when you claimed to be an unbeliever.
A certain kind of doubt started creeping up and your hands tightened involuntarily around your sweater. "I'm tired..." You murmured to yourself, pulling your knees up to your chest. "So, so tired."
"Why me?" Another whisper — this time with a hint of weary frustration. "Did I do something wrong?"
That particular question left your mouth repeatedly, each time more pointed than the previous one. You thought it'd fall on deaf ears — you were wrong.
"You did." A voice answered somewhere from behind you. You nearly jumped up, your head snapping to the side. A man was sitting on your bed looking at you through half-lidded eyes.
"Who—" He didn't let you finish.
"I'm an angel of the Lord," Castiel said quietly, looking down at your seated self. "And you, little lamb, started to follow the wrong path."
You blinked, shifting slowly to be able to face him. He was emanating this strange, comforting warmth, despite the fact that he appeared completely out of nowhere and should've made you start screaming instead of feeling relieved.
"That's not true." You tried to explain yourself, eyes suddenly avoiding his gaze.
"Your lack of faith suggested something else." Castiel hummed, slowly reaching out to cup your face. His touch was gentle and warm, it made you want to lean into it instinctively. "Why did you stop believing?"
You paused, not entirely sure yourself. Was it a phase? A moment of weakness? You had no idea, so you remained silent, feeling guilty and ashamed all of a sudden.
"It's alright, you don't have to answer if you don't want to." He whispered, brushing his thumb over your cheek tenderly. "God sent me to show you his love, not to scare you."
Something in your chest clenched. The memory of that call from the hospital was still fresh in your mind, after all. "So why is all this happening to me?" You found your voice again but it broke somewhere in the middle.
"It was a lesson," Castiel responded, still so painfully gentle it made your heart ache. "Lack of faith is a grave sin that must be punished, don't you think?"
"I—" You wanted to disagree or at least keep pushing but the angel interrupted you again.
"But now everything will be alright, my sweet lamb." He continued, slowly reaching his other hand out to you. "You acknowledged Him. You spoke to Him. You found faith again."
He was right. You did turn back to the Lord and he rewarded you by sending you an angel — it was beautiful and more than you hoped for.
Your eyes moved down to Castiel's hand and you took it. He pulled you slowly back up and made you sit next to him on the bed.
"Will everything really be okay now?" You asked hesitantly, still holding the angel's hand. His touch was warm and pleasant — grounding.
"Of course." He reassured you without hesitation, helping you to lie down on your bed. "He will watch over you now, and nothing bad will happen to you. You just have to trust me."
You nodded faintly in understanding. Castiel's words made you feel strangely safe and loved. He knew what he was talking about, you could feel it. He'd make sure no evil would come your way again.
You shifted slightly, letting him lower himself down as well, now behind you, with his arm wrapped around your waist, pressing your back securely against his chest.
You didn't try to push him away, in fact, you craved his warmth and the things he promised. Safety. Love. Protection. It was exactly what you needed after a whole year of misery, so you simply relaxed in his embrace.
"Let me take care of you." He whispered against your neck, pressing a faint kiss to your skin. "You deserve it after all the suffering you had to endure."
His hand escaped your waist then, trailing down to your stomach before dipping under your shirt. The angel started gently rubbing your skin, fingers skimming over the fabric of your pants —you didn't even flinch when his touch grew bolder — your own desperation made you melt under his grip instead.
"My poor, hurt lamb." He cooed while slipping one finger inside you, opening you up slowly and carefully. He wasn't impatient, not at all. He was taking his time to make sure you knew who was the one making you feel cherished. "So broken and all mine to watch over."
When you were already whining and squirming in his arms, Castiel slowly changed your position, now hovering over you while you were lying underneath him. He pulled your jeans fully down, sliding them over your knees before planting himself between your parted legs.
He freed himself from his own pants with one hand while pressing reverent kisses all over your exposed neck and collarbones, making you whimper and wrap your arms around his shoulders in a desperate attempt to bring him even closer.
"So beautiful..." He murmured and praised while sliding slowly inside you. At first, it was just the tip, but then he started pushing forward, burying his cock deeper in your tight heat.
You moaned, head tilting back from the pleasure of being so perfectly filled and of course — not alone anymore. Castiel held your hips with both hands, thrusting into you with slow, purposeful strokes, your pleasure much more important to him than his own.
"Does it feel good?" He asked while picking his pace up, hips snapping forward faster yet not necessarily rougher.
"Yeah..." You moaned out, fingers digging into his shoulders when his cock hit that one, particular spot inside you that made you clench around his length involuntarily.
Just a second before he came, Castiel's arms wrapped more securely around your waist and he pulled you up and into his lap, burying himself impossibly deeper and coming inside you, filling you up with his seed.
You came barely two seconds after and went completely pliant in his arms, forehead falling against his shoulder. The angel pressed yet another, tender kiss, this time to the top of your head.
"You will never stray from the lord's path again, will you?" He asked, rubbing slow circles with his hand over your lower back.
"No..." You breathed out, still dizzy from the intensity of your orgasm.
"Good," Castiel murmured, tightening his grip around you. "I would hate to have to make you suffer again."
Why aren't you taking requests/doing them rarely? :0
I hope this question doesn't sound invasive !! I just today saw your intro post and I'm curious cuz holy, I luv your writing and I wish I could req something :((
-🦐
Oh yeah, I uptaded my intro post again...
But dw, the question isn't invasive at all! I rarely do requests because I'm genuinely so scared of disappointing ppl it's insane. I usually can't promise I'll even start writing let alone finish it. I'd rather not leave people hanging :(
I love suggestions and ideas a lot, tho! Like, yes PLEASE tell me your idea/freaky kink/morbid fantasy or a character you'd like me to write/write again. I need inspiration!
CW: Selfcest. Incest. Praise. Sam and Sammy do have sex in this chapter. Fingering. Age gap. Grooming. Dubious consent. Manipulation. Innocent reader. Corruption (kind of?). Kissing, marking, etc.
Reader: Male reader. No description of the reader. No use of Y/N. "Entrance" and "hole" as the only terms for reader's genitalia.
(To avoid confusion, Sam is being referred to as "Sammy", Soulless Sam is called "Sam.")
Author's note: Sam is kind of giving Meg!Sam, but still. Ugh, whatever. I need that!! (Part 2 dropping someday).
!NSFW! under the cut
Sammy had no idea how it had happened, really. Just a while ago, he'd been fighting his soulless version in a motel room, and now? Now he was being pinned to the bed, legs parted and his clothes off.
"We need to hurry up..." He mumbled between moans, hands clenching around nothing. "My— our little brother will be here in a moment."
Sam only smirked, a little too smugly for Sammy's taste. "That's a good thing, no?" He asked, tightening his grip on his soulful version's wrists. "Take your chance, Sammy."
"What is that even supposed to mean?" Sammy frowned, looking up at the hovering man over him.
"Come on..." He murmured condescendingly, thrusting into Sam with deep, purposeful strokes. "I'm you. I know what you truly want— what you always wanted."
Sammy nearly choked at that, his face flushing involuntarily from the sudden realization that indeed, Sam is him. Every single thought he ever had about his younger brother— about you —Sam knew it all.
"Every little glance at his ass." Sam teased, punctuating every word with a snap of his hips. "Every filthy, sinful thought you had about him."
Sammy nearly whined, turning his head away from his soulless version because he knew Sam was right. Sammy often thought about you in less than innocent ways, but he always refused to act on those thoughts. Sammy knew it was wrong to desire you, Sam, however— it was a different story.
"Oh! Do you remember that one time you took him shopping just to—" Sam started but Sammy didn't let him finish.
"Just stop already! That's our little brother. We saw him grow up, for hell's sake." Sammy's voice trembled. He was afraid of hurting you, of accidentally making you hate him. He'd never forgive himself.
Sam scoffed, the mean, condescending smirk still on his face as he fucked into Sammy with dark satisfaction. He knew Sammy would give in eventually. It was just a matter of time.
"You and your morality." He said mockingly, leaning down to nip on Sammy's neck. "Right. Better stick to fucking yourself, huh?"
Sammy whined audibly.
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Later that day, when you and Dean returned from shopping to the motel, you both nearly had a heart attack when you saw two Samuels sitting on the couch.
Sammy immediately explained everything, besides the sex, of course, and had to assure Dean five times that he would find a way to get rid of Sam. Dean simply looked like he wanted to strangle the soulless version with his own hands.
Talking to you, though, was much harder for your older brother. Sam stayed inside with Dean, and Sammy dragged you outside the motel for some privacy.
"Look, you cannot trust him, okay?" He said with worry written all over his face. "Always stay alert when you're around him— or even better— don't be around him at all."
"But why, Sammy?" You asked in a hushed tone, matching his. You truly didn't understand, because Sammy never bothered to explain. He just always said Sam was evil.
"He's a bad person, little brother. He's nothing like me." He said quietly, protectively, brushing his thumb over your cheek. "I'm worried he'll do something to you. Just please— promise me you'll stay away."
And you promised.
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It's been a week since you all lived together, and Sammy made sure you were never alone with Sam. Maybe it was because he was afraid Sam would try to do something to you, or maybe that he wouldn't do anything at all, just reveal what Sammy had been secretly thinking his entire life while pretending to be the perfect older brother.
Today, however, Sammy failed to find an excuse and was forced to leave you with the soulless version of himself. It was only supposed to be one hour, what could even happen in such a short amount of time, he thought.
Apparently a lot, because as soon as the door closed behind Sammy, Sam was already at your side, looking you up and down with cold, smug curiosity.
"So..." He hummed, crossing his arms over his chest. "Sammy's really possessive, huh?"
"What?" You blinked, taking a step back, just to put some distance between you two. Sammy's words were still lingering in your head, after all.
"Well, this whole stay away from him thing," Sam said and leaned against the kitchen counter. "He's afraid that I'll be the first to do what he's wanted to do for many years."
You took another step back, the mere tone of his voice was making you feel uneasy. "Be more specific." You demanded weakly.
"Sammy wants you, little brother," Sam said with mock sweetness and took a step forward. "He's always wanted you, ever since you first sat on his lap. Ever since you first called him big brother."
You remained silent, not wanting to believe him at first. Sam, however, didn't stop at that. He lowered himself onto the couch before reaching for your wrist— too quick for you to be able to react— and you found yourself in his lap.
"Sammy's too good to take what he wants..." Sam continued, almost condescendingly, bringing his hand to your thigh. "But I'll prepare you for him, hm? Get you all nice and ready."
"Don't—" You tried to wriggle out of his grip but it was pointless. Sam was too strong, his one arm tightly wrapped around your waist and keeping you in his lap.
"Don't you want to make your big brother happy?" He hummed and buried his face in your neck, inhaling your scent shamelessly. "He raised you. He gave you everything. Now he wants one thing from you and you're refusing?"
You swallowed thickly, watching the way Sam's hand moved up your leg. His touch was gentle, too gentle for someone who was supposed to be soulless, yet his words were pointed. You felt strangely guilty for never giving Sammy what he apparently needed.
"I...I didn't know." You admitted weakly, pressing your legs together when Sam's fingers brushed over your inner thigh.
"Shh, it's alright. We'll give Sammy what he wants, yeah?" Another kiss, this time pressed to your jaw.
You squirmed in Sam's lap when his hand slipped under the fabric of your shorts, teasing right above the waistband of your underwear. You felt even more uneasy when his fingers started rubbing you through the thin fabric, slow and careful at first, then turning bolder.
"Sam—" You whined quietly, shifting a little in his lap, as far as his hand around your waist allowed you to, that is.
Sam ignored your whimpers and instead pushed your underwear aside, his finger skimming over your slick entrance. "Wet already, aren't you?" The mocking tone returned, especially when he saw how responsive you were.
He pressed yet another kiss to your neck, watching you squirm and wriggle in his lap when he finally pushed his finger inside you. Slow, at first, curling and stretching you open, savoring the way your cheeks flushed and eyes went a little wider every single time.
"Oh, he'll love that." Sam grinned and sank his teeth into your skin, not too deep but not completely gentle either. A moan slipped past your lips which only spurred the soulless version of your older brother on.
Then came another finger, the intrusion unfamiliar and painful, even though Sam was visibly holding back, for whatever reason.
"You can take it, right? For Sammy?" He asked, curling both fingers inside you while leaving another mark just above your collarbone. The sensation of being filled wasn't fully unpleasant, despite the initial pain, and soon enough you were clenching around his fingers and moaning into his shoulder.
Sam held you in his lap, still uncharacteristically gentle, and when the first orgasm crashed over you, he pressed his lips against yours, swallowing the low moan that left your mouth.
The hour passed rather quickly, Sam didn't even try to overstimulate you. No. He wanted you to be somewhat conscious when Sammy returned. So instead, he moved you to the bed in the corner of the room, pressing another kiss, this time to your forehead.
"And when Sammy comes in, what do you say?" He asked, taking a seat on the edge of the bed, his hand curling teasingly around your still trembling thigh.
"I want to make big brother happy." You mumbled, looking at the soulless version of Sammy through half-lidded eyes.
hi king yaevinn i have a question !! (before that i js wanna say that homelander fic was so yum like i js know he'd love a healing reader...) anyway ! why don't u write for fem characters ? i'm js personally curious cuz usually i see it the other way around
- 🫐
Hi pookie :D
This may be an unpopular opinion (hot take indeed), but as a man, I would feel bad writing about women considering the kind of stuff I write. I guess I'd just feel uncomfortable putting a female character in that situation. My mommy raised me better than that 🙏
Not saying it's weird to do that or anything, it's just how I feel about it personally.
CW: Rough sex. Pain play. Blood. Death. Power play. Choking. Extreme violence. Praise. Penetration. Oral sex. Dom Homelander. Homelander being Homelander. Sassy reader. Aftercare, tho? (Kind of). Softer Homelander at the end. Necro (mentioned). Wound fucking (mentioned).
Reader: Gender not specified. No description of the reader. No use of Y/N.
Author's note: I realized I don't really enjoy writing dom Lander. He's way too pathetic to be all that. But hey, I know some people like reading it so here you go. Enjoy, mwah.
!NSFW! under the cut
You and Homelander met half a year ago, but your relationship deepened very quickly as soon as John realized that you could easily heal any wound and injury.
Your encounters looked practically the same every time. Homelander took his frustration out on you, eager to take advantage of the fact that you could take on so much more than anyone else. More than that—you liked it.
He was gentle by his standards at first. It started with beating, choking, and pinning you to his bed. But his frustration quickly grew, and he became bolder. The things you had to endure turned downright cruel. He was breaking bones, throwing you against walls, and, more than once, he simply murdered you.
As for the latter, John also had a habit of always taking advantage of you, even when his actions left you lying on the floor with a cracked skull in a pool of your own blood.
You always recovered quickly, though, moaning through pain and soaking your panties. It only spurred John on, as if the power he had over you and the fact that you were enjoying yourself was making breaking you much more intimate and enjoyable.
After all, you were the only one who could take all of him.
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"Fuck." Homelander groaned, thrusting into you ruthlessly, hips snapping forward as he held you down with one hand wrapped tightly around your neck.
The pain that his relentless pounding was causing you was nothing compared to the fact that you had a literal hole in your side. You were bleeding all over the sheets, taking short, shallow breaths whenever his other hand twisted, pushing his fingers into the wound. This was your third sex this week, and it was only Tuesday.
"Going easy on me today, huh?" You mocked him between moans, your hands slipping from his shoulders to wrap around his arms instead, digging into his skin and leaving marks in his otherwise pristine suit.
"Easy?" He hissed, shifting his grip from your side to your thigh, pushing your leg up to be able to bury his thick cock even deeper inside you.
You whined when he started hitting the right spot, but then his hand moved even lower, wrapping around your ankle before snapping it in half like a twig. John watched with pleasure how pain made your breath hitch and eyes roll back, his thrusts stuttering at the sight, growing noticeably more erratic and careless.
"That's all? Come on." You teased him once more with a shaky yet confident tone. Bratty, even, which instead of annoying Homelander, just made him want to be even worse, even more sadistic. You were the only one who could accept that part of him, the only one who could understand his need.
So spurred on by your acceptance, he buried his cock to the hilt, spilling inside you with a low groan. The surge of arousal caused his hand to grip your nape so tightly that your neck broke under the pressure.
Your head fell back, eyes open and lips parted, before your hands followed, sliding down John's arms where they were wrapped just a moment before, now lying pliant on the bed, still twitching a little even after death.
Homelander was panting as he pulled out, his cum spilling slowly out of your entrance. He took a moment to appreciate the sight of your bloodied and wounded corpse lying motionless on his bed. It made his cock twitch again, even though he just finished.
Fortunately, he still had a couple of minutes before your wounds would start healing, so in that time he took advantage of the fact that there was another hole he hadn't used yet—the one in your side.
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The next day you met again, right after Homelander called you.
He seemed as frustrated as usual, something about Ashley or Starlight, whatever. You knew what he wanted from you, so you grabbed your coat and went to the Vought Tower.
When you entered John's penthouse, he was already standing in the doorway to his bedroom. From this position, you could see his bed. He hadn't changed the sheets, which still bore traces of your blood, now dried and dark.
"Come here." He ordered lightly, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. Despite his earlier complaining, he was smirking now, looking almost as if he was glad to see you.
You closed the door slowly behind you but didn't move forward, just folded your arms over your chest, mirroring his stance, all smug and sassy. "Or?"
Homelander only smiled in response, his eyes glowing red. A mere second later, you were kneeling on the floor, your knees melted by his lasers. The pain was excruciating, yet instead of a cry, a loud moan escaped you. John was standing over you before you even managed to blink, unfastening his belt impatiently.
"Open up, sweetheart." He murmured with dark satisfaction, clasping his fingers on your jaw, thumb pressing mercilessly into your cheek, and forcing your mouth to open.
His other hand went to fist in your hair, yanking your head back before he slid the tip of his cock past your lips. He was already leaking, you could feel it on your tongue.
Without giving you any time to adjust, he started forcing his length deeper into your mouth, determined to make you take more and more, even though he was already balls deep in your throat by now. You gagged, saliva trailing down your chin and your eyes rolling back—it was clear you were choking on his cock, unable to breathe properly because of the intrusion.
John only threw his head back, hips snapping forward violently, like he couldn't stop himself from fucking into your face like an animal. Every thrust was painful, his thick cock hitting the back of your throat, making you squirm and whine and cry around him.
It only made Homelander want more. He buried himself to the hilt in your mouth and stilled, watching through half-lidded eyes as you struggled to take a breath. Tears started spilling down your face freely, you tried to grab onto something, anything, your hands wrapping around his thighs and your fingers desperately digging into his skin.
"Come on, baby. You can take it." He cooed while actively strangling you with his length. "Yeah — just like that." The praise was strangely soft compared to the way he kept holding your head still, making sure you wouldn't pull away.
Observing the way light faded in your eyes while your mouth was still obscenely stretched around his cock was enough to make him come. He gritted his teeth yet kept looking at you while unloading right down your throat.
When he finally pulled out and relaxed his grip on your hair, your heart already stopped beating.
John smiled faintly and scooped your pliant body up before carrying you towards the bedroom. He didn't fuck you again that night, just lay down with you, his arms wrapped around your waist and his face buried into your neck, inhaling the sweet scent of blood and something uniquely you that clung to your hair.
"So perfect for me." He whispered, pressing a single kiss to your re-warming skin.
Its like 5am for me and i js stumbled onto your blog and holy moly i feel like homelander seeing angel madelyn rn that necro,non con & canibal sam fic and this recent homelander one are so peak
That's so sweet, I'm sobbing. That you so, so much!! I'm glad you're enjoying my work!! ♡
"Seems like I won't be able to help you, you're a faulty lamb."
Word count: 1,9k
CW: Church. Imposing religion. Religious psychosis. Forced prayer. Forced baptism. Torture, in a way. Cold degradation. Dacryphilia (kind of). Begging. Extreme overstimulation. Dry fingering. Multiple orgasms. SA/extremely dubious consent. Reader is lost, confused and struggling. Castiel is a manipulative, cold servant of God.
Reader: No specified gender. No description of the reader. No use of Y/N.
Author's note: I was close to not writing a sex scene but man... whatever. Manipulative men are worth it. And holy shit, this might be one of my favorite fics so far.
!NSFW! under the cut
Throughout the past year, you suffered terribly, and every day was filled with fear and doubt as to whether God was even watching over you anymore. You felt dirty, evil, and most importantly, you were deeply convinced that you were possessed.
During one of your worst episodes, you finally decided to leave the house and go to the church on the outskirts of the small town you lived in. It was late, and the walk seemed excruciatingly long.
When you finally stood before the massive metal door, something twisted in your stomach, and you were physically unable to reach for the doorknob. The very thought of entering such a sacred place filled you with dread. You were, after all, unworthy.
Tears began to well up in your eyes as your hand trembled, still slightly raised but stopped mid-motion. Then you felt a touch on your shoulder and you jumped up, glancing behind you. Castiel stood there, watching you intently.
"You're the angel. I saw you in my dreams." You whispered with amazement but also a deep sense of relief, as if the fact that he existed was not something to be disputed and you were merely waiting for his arrival all this time.
"Castiel." He introduced himself, slowly looking you up and down with intrigue. "What's the matter, my child?"
You blinked, realizing that your hand was still halfway towards the doorknob, not quite reaching it just yet. "I can't enter. The church, I mean." You admitted, lowering your hand and letting it drop to your side.
"And why's that?" He asked, crossing his arms behind his back.
"I'm evil." You responded immediately with weary exhaustion in your tone. It made one of Castiel's eyebrows rise up.
"Interesting." He murmured before reaching for the doorknob himself, opening the door to the church for you. You flinched involuntarily, staring at him like he just did the unthinkable. "Let's talk inside, shall we?"
You weren't convinced at first, but you also desperately wanted to trust and believe him. It was the angel—the same one who was soothing you in your dreams, making you feel less evil than you thought you were.
Castiel waited patiently, observing your reaction. You took a shaky breath and slowly stepped inside, head tilted down with respect. The church was cold, so much colder than you expected, it gave you goosebumps.
"How do you feel?" Castiel asked, following you closely behind.
"Strange..." You responded quietly, lifting your gaze up to look around. "Like I don't belong."
He hummed with understanding, eyes trailing down your silhouette. "Were you baptized?" He pushed.
Your eyes immediately went to the angel and you shook your head, hands curling around the fabric of your shirt nervously. "No, never."
"This could be the source of the problem." Castiel murmured, his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. "The evil reached you because your parents didn't allow God to take you under his care."
You blinked, looking up at him with a hint of surprise. So he did understand, he knew there was something wrong with you. Maybe he could help you, you thought.
"Could you baptize me?" You asked hopefully, watching Castiel with big eyes.
He said nothing, just motioned for you to follow him and you did. You stopped before the room behind the altar, you could see that there was a large wooden tub filled with water, likely holy, inside. You paused at the threshold, as if something was preventing you from entering. Castiel noticed immediately, his cold eyes landing on you.
"Is there a problem, little lamb?" He stilled by your side, observing the way your legs trembled, making you incapable of moving forward.
"I can't go inside." Your voice broke when you said it. You couldn't even describe the feeling. It was as if something didn't want you to be closer to the Lord.
Castiel noticed you struggling and let out a quiet sigh before moving his hand, grabbing you by the nape of your neck. You yelped, his grip wasn't pleasant, but perhaps that's what you deserved for being evil.
He didn't give you time to think, just dragged you inside the room before throwing you to your knees in front of the tub. You hit the ground with a weak whine of pain, your hands instinctively reaching for the rim.
"Pray, child." He said, standing over you like a statue. It was a test. It had to be. "Let's see how far you are from our Father."
You swallowed thickly, looking at your hands. You couldn't force yourself to even clasp them together, let alone pray. The realization made your stomach turn and you looked down at the tub shamefully. "I don't know what's happening. I can't-" You sobbed weakly.
Castiel, however, simply took a step forward before grabbing a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back so you could look at him. "Faulty little lamb..." He murmured more to himself than to you.
Then, without warning, he pushed your head straight into the water, submerging you and holding you beneath the surface. You thrashed, trying to free yourself, but Castiel's hand was relentless, forcing you to stay put. After a few seconds, he yanked you back, water running down your cheeks along with tears that had filled your eyes.
As soon as air flowed back into your lungs, Castiel repeated what he'd done, this time harder, your head nearly hitting the bottom of the tub. You choked, squirmed and tried to wriggle away but to no use.
"So stubborn..." He hummed, observing the way you desperately tried to escape his grip.
He pulled you up again, this time pushing you back to the ground. Your knees hit the floor, but not quite the way Castiel wanted. You were still stiff and too tense, even though you were dripping wet and desperately trying to catch your breath.
"Kneel properly." He demanded coldly, fixating on your trembling hands and glassy eyes.
You exhaled shakily, trying to relax. It didn't help at all, though. Whatever was inside you simply didn't want you to become one of God's children.
"I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry." You sobbed frantically, unable to look at the angel who, after all, was trying to help you.
"Such disappointment." He sighed, crouching down in front of you. His hand cupped your face, inspecting the way tears made your cheeks flush. "You're still dirty, it seems. Can't even kneel properly in front of the Lord. All tense and shaky..."
You whined weakly, trying to relax again because you knew Castiel was right. You weren't kneeling like to pray. You were kneeling like someone forced you to, and your hands still refused to fold.
"You just baptized me, didn't you? I should be clean, I should..." Your voice broke again and Castiel's hands tightened on your jaw.
"There must be something wrong with your head then, my child." He said condescendingly and the words made your stomach drop.
"Seems like I won't be able to help you. You're a faulty lamb." The angel then added flatly, eyes fixated on you and fingers still digging almost painfully into your cheek.
You absolutely couldn't allow the last person capable of helping you to leave, though, so your hand jerked forward, clenching around his trench coat desperately.
"Please, I beg. Do something! Anything!" You pleaded, but Castiel only shook his head, the same look of detached disappointment clearly visible on his face.
"Crawl, then." He ordered finally after a pause. You blinked, but Castiel remained still, simply motioning with his chin at the altar. "Show God your obedience."
You gulped, but the need to feel better and closer to the Lord made you obey in an instant. You slowly crawled out of the room on all fours and the angel followed closely behind you, stopping just when you both reached the altar.
"Now let's do something about your stubborn knees, shall we?" Castiel crouched in front of you again.
You wanted to ask what he meant by that but his hand shoot out, wrapping around your neck before forcing you back. You stumbled, landing on your ass with your legs parted, which Castiel took advantage of almost immediately.
"You're causing me nothing but problems." He said while getting right in between your thighs, his grip on your neck tightened.
"I'm really sorry, I mean it!" You choked out and grabbed his wrist, not quite sure if you're trying to push him away or hold on to him.
"Shh, my child. I'll make sure God hears you this time." His voice dropped to a low hum and then you felt it.
Castiel's other hand was now on your inner thigh, creeping up to your zipper. You instinctively tried to close your legs but he pushed them apart again, blocking any attempts by simply scooting closer.
"Don't, please, I don't-" You begged but the angel interrupted your pathetic pleading.
"You do." He stated, hand escaping your neck to clasp over your mouth instead. "It's the evil speaking, little lamb. Don't let it get in between you and the Lord."
He easily managed to pull your pants down, exposing you to the coldness of the Church. Tears continued to fall down your cheeks but you weren't trashing anymore, just let your hands fall back, fingers digging into the wooden floor.
The angel wasted no time on useless prep and simply pushed two fingers inside you, making you cry out from the sharp pain and sudden fullness. He kept watching you intently the entire time, observing with cold satisfaction how your eyes rolled back when he teased the right spot perfectly.
Your legs were trembling already, shaking under his grip when he added another finger, your fluids trickling down his hand and dripping onto the Church's floor.
"Cry louder, my child. Father appreciates suffering." Castiel cooed, almost painfully gently compared to how hard he was overstimulating you right now.
You moaned into his hand, eyes rolling back from all the overwhelming sensations. The angel's grip then shifted, returning to your neck so he could hear those sinful sounds slip from your parted lips.
After that, he allowed you to come, yet left no time for you to come back your senses. His fingers kept pushing, scissoring and driving inside you without mercy, one orgasm after another, making your moans mix with painful whimpers and cries.
By the time he was done with you, you were a trembling mess with a fucked-out expression on your face. Castiel's fingers escaped your abused hole and he pulled out a handkerchief, wiping his hands of your fluids.
"Pray, little lamb." He repeated his words from earlier, now standing over you with his eyes on the statue of Holy Mary.
You weakly shifted, pushing yourself up on your hands to kneel and face the altar. No stiffness in your movements anymore, your legs were like jelly from the overstimulation you experienced. You simply clasped your hands together obediently, not a single thought of being evil crossing your mind again.
Castiel hummed approvingly at that and put his hand on your head, fingers threading through your hair before gently tugging your head back, as if he were presenting you in front of Heaven itself.
"Father, will you let this sheep return to your pasture?" He asked, looking up towards the ceiling.
holy freak i loved that homelander one u js did.... good golly i love that evil pathetic man !! anyway went off topic there had to praise ur writing- what are ur pronouns or what u go by ? might become a regular anon here so js wanna refer to u properly !!
I go by he/him! (I forgot to add it to my intro...).
And thank you so much!! Pathetic Homelander has a special place in my heart fr, might write more of him being a mess in the future 😛
Turns out your "narcissistic big brother" is a needy fucking mess.
Word count: 1,3k
TW: Incest. Age gap. Hair tugging. Degradation. Drunk oral sex. Homelander is pathetic, soft and needy. Mean, bratty reader. Subtop Homelander still eating reader out like his life depends on it, tho. Reader has pink bow panties btw.
Reader: Male reader + afab terms for reader's genitalia. No description of the reader. No use of Y/N. Reader is being called "little brother" / pet names.
Author's note: I genuinely hope I'm not too much of a yapper and it's still possible to beat your meat to this...also, I might remake this one one day.
!NSFW! under the cut
When Ashley called, saying Homelander was drunk and needed you, you thought it was a joke. But then you heard John's whiny voice somewhere in the background and you knew your brother was actually intoxicated, which, apparently, was a national level threat.
...That's probably why just a few moments later, you were already sitting on the couch in his penthouse, arms crossed over your chest, watching your older brother pace and stumble over his own feet.
"You don't even love me anymore." Homelander complained, his words slurred from the amount of alcohol in his body.
"I never loved you in the first place." You responded, eyes following his movements. John, however, stopped at that.
"See? That's exactly what I'm talking about!" He pointed at you with a small frown. "What happened to my loving little brother, huh?"
A sigh left you, but you knew exactly what he was talking about. You started putting distance between you two ever since you realized that Homelander's need for love and approval would never be fully satisfied.
"I dunno." You murmured, leaning back in your seat on the couch. John's frown deepened and he moved, visibly unsteady on his feet, before taking a seat right next to you. "I just think you're annoying. And a mess." You added.
For some reason, your older brother's eyes drifted off to the side, almost as if your words actually pained him. "Tell me what to do and I'll do it." He said suddenly, glancing back up at you.
You paused, raising an eyebrow up, unsure of what he meant by that. He noticed and leaned forward a little, searching for support. "Whatever you want. Whatever will make you love me again."
It was pathetic at best, and a slow smirk appeared on your face. He was drunk and you definitely could use that against him. The goal was to humiliate, after all.
"Get on your knees." You said casually after a moment of silence, looking at him through half-lidded eyes.
And surprisingly enough, there was no hesitation in Homelander's movements. He shifted, pushing himself off the couch before dropping to his knees in front of you. Your eyes flickered down, taking in how uncharacteristically submissive he looked, it almost made you wonder how far you'd be able to push it.
"I can do whatever you want, little brother. I love you so, so much..." He nearly whined, words slurring a little and his hands jerking forward as if to grab you. You were faster, though. Your leg moved, foot landing on his abdomen to hold him at a distance. You felt something hard under your shoe, which made you pause, and your gaze finally went down to his lap.
"Holy shit." You let out a surprised chuckle, pulling your leg back with disgust. "You're hard. You're actually hard."
Your older brother's cheeks flushed almost immediately, and definitely not from the alcohol. You stared at him, unable to hide the amused, mocking smirk on your face.
"You're leaking all over your pants just from being on your knees..." You continued taunting him relentlessly. "You're fucking dripping from begging for your little brother."
John let out another whine, head tilting down slightly, as if that'd help him hide his embarrassment and growing arousal. And that's when your hand shoot out, fingers twisting in the golden strands of your brother's hair.
"You're such a freak. Bet you wanted to fuck me for a while now." You murmured, pulling his head back so you could actually look at the expression on his face. Everything about him was screaming need. "What do you want, big brother?"
John squirmed at the question, looking up to meet your gaze like a wounded dog. "I want to taste you, please..." He slurred, searching your face, even though his eyes were already flickering hungrily to the place between your thighs.
Your smirk widened. "That's so? Ew." It was more of a taunt than anything else, because for some reason, the sight of your walking god-complex of a brother on his knees was making you wet shamefully fast.
The realization made you finally yank his head down, and John literally swallowed when his face was on the level of your clit. He looked impatient already, squirming from the smell of your wetness alone. You slowly guided him, forcing his head back just enough to stop him when his hands reached out to grab your thighs.
"Say please first." You grinned, watching his reaction through half-lidded eyes.
Homelander nearly whined, eyes locking with yours, desperate in a way you've never seen before. "Please, little brother-" He pleaded, fingers twitching to grip and pull and touch you all over.
You didn't allow him just yet, though, and instead tugged on his hair once more, tearing a low whine out of his throat.
"Beg, John." You said, a hint of playfulness in your voice which you wouldn't normally allow yourself for.
You could see that he wasn't thinking clearly, because instead of lashing out, he simply nodded frantically, pressing his forehead against your knee. "Please." He whimpered weakly. "Please just let me make you feel good."
You let out a pleased hum at that, pushing your legs open. John nearly jumped up, hands jerking forward to your belt. "You're so disgusting. Wanna eat your little brother out, huh?" You murmured, watching and indulging him.
He didn't even answer to your mocking tone, too focused on unzipping your jeans. When Homelander finally pulled them down, he nearly choked when his eyes fell on your white panties with a little, pink bow on them. The mere sight of that soft, soaked fabric made his cock twitch painfully in his own pants.
"Fuck-" He groaned, closing his eyes for a brief moment as if to physically stop himself from making out with your pussy through the fabric like a freak.
You, still uncharacteristically playful, didn't give him any other option, though, especially not after you threw your legs over his shoulders, bringing him impossibly closer and trapping him in a leg lock.
Homelander swallowed tightly again, lifting his gaze up to meet your eyes. "Can I?" He asked, licking his own lips.
When you nodded and tightened your grip on your older brother's hair, it was over. John's hands moved under your thighs before pulling you forward, nearly burying his face in your folds. He kissed the pink bow first, almost appreciatively, before his tongue ran over the wet fabric of your panties, savoring the taste of you with unmistakable pleasure.
You let out a soft gasp of your own when he started kissing and sucking on the cloth, his tongue teasing your clit without any shame. By the time he was done messing around with your panties, you were already dripping and on edge which only spurred him on.
"You're such a fucking mess." You groaned, your thighs trembling under his grip. John only allowed himself one more sound before his hand moved, pulling your underwear aside just enough to expose your wet hole. Your grip in his hair tightened to an almost painful hold when his tongue started teasing your entrance, pushing inside and devouring you like his last meal.
You began squirming, gasping and moaning from pleasure when he finally used his fingers, sliding two inside you, so painfully gentle yet needy and desperate to push you over the edge. It made your legs tighten around his shoulders and head fall back against the couch cushions.
The first orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, making your back arch and fingers dig into his scalp. John pulled back just enough to be able to look at you, saliva dripping down his chin. His gaze was almost dreamy, like he was high on the sensation of his bratty boy on his tongue.
"Do you want more, little brother?" He asked eagerly, hands still tightly wrapped around your thighs, thumb brushing over your skin to soothe the tremor in your legs.
"Shut up..." You panted out, glancing down at him with hazy eyes. "Just...keep sucking."
TW: Agoraphilia. Exhibitionism. Violence. Non-con. SA. Sex in a meeting room. Innocent reader. Implied age gap. Reader's father is present. Slaughter does happen (reader survives, though). Homelander is rough. Homelander is being Homelander.
Reader: No specified gender. No description of the reader. No use of Y/N. "Hole" and "entrance" as the only terms for reader's genitalia.
Author's note: Might be the wildest one so far, surprisingly enough.
!NSFW! under the cut
The meeting at the Seven tower dragged on. A group of investors with sticks up their asses acted as if they had the right to dictate terms to Homelander when he was, in fact, the face of Vought.
There were ten people inside the room, all sitting around the table. Homelander, eight old, bitter pseudo-businessmen and you. Your father had taken you to the meeting because he knew you admired Homelander, so now you sat in one of the chairs, almost vibrating with excitement, which also made you the only person there who was in a somehow good mood.
Halfway through their complaining about how the price of buying a supe is too high these days, Homelander rested his chin in the palm of his hand, a faint frown on his face indicating his growing irritation. You were watching him intently, trying to be subtle about it, even though your eyes didn't leave him even for a moment.
"Four hundred million for some pseudo-hero pumped full of blue shit from a syringe?" One of the investors scoffed while reviewing the offer. "This has to be a joke."
Homelander's eyes were on him in an instant. Not threatening just yet, simply watching. Waiting for another misstep.
"You want that much money for some walking drug addict? It's absurd." Another one said, daring to address John directly.
"I don't set the prices, Stan Edgar does." Homelander responded flatly.
You kept watching him, not really interested in their conversation, too invested in the way John was leaning back in his chair, looking like he was growing more and more agitated by the minute.
"Then tell Stan we won't let some lab rats cost us a fortune." Your father suddenly spoke up, turning to Homelander with a frown. Their eyes locked, and at the mere mention of lab rats, John's gaze became icy.
"Tell Stan Edgar?" He repeated slowly, narrowing his eyes. "Who do you think I am?"
It should've been enough of a warning. But it wasn't.
"You're a product, you listen to the people who are buying you." Your father said coldly, which only made John's eyes narrow further. This time in something closer to dangerous amusement.
"I'm the Homelander." He smiled slowly, baring his white teeth. "I do not take orders from Stan or some weak, human garbage like you."
Silence. Homelander's gaze swept over the room, he could hear their hearts pounding in their chests, fear slowly beginning to take root in their minds. John inhaled the scent with unhidden pleasure. He wanted more, more of that terrified obedience.
Then his gaze finally turned to you. The smirk that appeared on his face was downright feral. "Oh, right. That's your kid, huh?" He asked your father, even though his gaze was fixated on you. It made you feel uncomfortably bare, the excitement from earlier slowly dissolving to make place for unease.
Your father nodded slowly, suddenly much more careful while choosing his words. "Indeed, why?"
John shrugged and turned to him again. "Let's see how well I listen, then."
He wasted no time, just stood up, pushing the chair back and walking over to you. Your chest tightened at the mere sight of him approaching you with that mean look. John, however, didn't let you think too long, he simply grabbed you by the shoulders, forcing you up to your feet. Everyone gasped, watching in horror as he manhandled you, bending you over the table right there, in front of them.
Your father immediately stood up, slamming his hands against the desk. "Stop that immediately-" He demanded but John's eyes shifted to him, already glowing red. The laser burned a hole in your father's shoulder, effectively rendering him incapable of further speech. Apart from pained, pathetic whines that started leaving his mouth, of course.
You couldn't react. Not with Homelander's grip shifting to the nape of your neck before slamming your cheek against the table. He wasn't gentle at all. This was more of a performance than anything else, after all. He easily kicked your legs open with his foot before moving his other hand to your pants, causing you to let out a yelp when with one sharp movement, he tore them off you, leaving you bare and trembling.
"Stop, please-" You tried, hands moving to grip the desk but he ignored you completely. The silence in the room was defeating. Nobody dared to make a sound, terrified and nauseous from the sight in front of them.
Homelander didn't bother with opening you up, he simply pulled his own pants down swiftly, his cock already hard and leaking precum from the tip. You could feel it press against your entrance for barely a second before a sharp cry of pain left your mouth when he pushed in, burying himself to the hilt inside you. Everyone in the room gasped and your eyes went shut, tears welling up in them.
"Eyes on your daddy, sweetheart." Homelander murmured with mock sweetness, hand twisting in your hair before forcing your head back so you could face your father. He looked horrified and pale, trapped between wanting to kill John and being unable to do anything while actively bleeding out and squirming in pain.
In this position, you could see every single person in the room, or at least as far as your teary eyes allowed you to. Some of the investors were staring in horror, unblinking and nauseous, others were shamefully looking down, either embarrassed or aroused beyond reason. Your father, however, turned his head away, unable to keep looking at his child getting fucked right in front of him. He just kept tightening his own hand over the gaping hole in his shoulder.
"Yeah, just like that. Keep looking." Homelander smirked and shook his head, hand escaping your hair to painfully grip your throat instead. He was pounding into you with single-minded focus, the obscene sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room. You were sobbing, tears streaming freely down your cheeks from how painfully deep he was thrusting into you.
He slowly leaned down, his other gloved hand moving to clench on your thigh and pin it to the table as well. The new position allowed him to fuck even deeper into you, his cock hitting that sweet spot over and over again, making you moan and whine shamefully. "So tight. Never had a cock inside you, huh?" He taunted.
John's gaze then turned briefly to the people present at the table, x-ray vision allowing him to see exactly what was happening under that surface and he grinned with feral amusement. "Oh my. Did you know that two of them are jerking off right now?" The filthy chuckle that left him made you physically flinch.
After a few more moments of enjoying the fear and disgust, John apparently grew bored of it, though. He frowned slightly before shifting his grip on you, grabbing both of your arms and pinning them behind your back. His thrusts started growing more erratic, hips snapping forward, not caring about your pleasure or discomfort whatsoever.
He pushed in one last time before pulling out suddenly, leaving your hole gaping and letting his seed coat your ass instead. The absence of his cock filling you made you whine, as he didn't even let you come, just sharply pulled you off the table and threw you onto the floor like a discarded toy.
You hit the ground like a ragdoll, curling up on yourself almost immediately, sobs leaving your parted lips involuntarily. Homelander just pulled his pants up, watching with a self-satisfied smirk how some of the more empathetic investors were trying not to gag at what they just witnessed. Then his eyes shifted back to your father.
"Oh." Homelander hummed, gaze sweeping over the pale, lifeless body, blood pooling under your father's chair. "Well, that's quite unfortunate."
He sighed, eyes lightening up again and just a second later, everyone sitting at the table was cut in half by his laser vision, the upper halves of their bodies hitting the ground with a thud.
You looked up with terror, almost expecting him to murder you as well, but Homelander didn't even glance at you, he simply adjusted his gloves and left the meeting room, the heavy metal door sliding shut behind him. You looked around briefly before curling up on yourself again, trembling and sobbing weakly into your own arm.
That was probably much more cruel than just finishing you off.
i'm ngl u write really really well like amazingly with the stories and how you portray a character but.... you write sum fucked up shit😭😭
(not judging at all btw considering i read it)
Thank you, that's so sweet!! And I actually laughed, lmao. But yeah, that's pretty much why I put explicit TW on my work. Not everyone will find those things yum.
I'm glad it's at least good enough for someone to read it despite it being fucked up, tho ❤️🩹
