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lovebugism · 7 months ago

Note

you’re writing for carmy now omg i’m frothing at the mouth 😭 i love the trope where reader is quiet in bed and needs to be coaxed a bit but… i feel like it would be kind of hot if reader was the one coaxing carmy? 👀 no worries if you’re not feeling this one!

ty for requesting! — you teach the bear how to use his voice in the bedroom (new relationship, inexperienced!carmy, experienced!reader-ish, smut 18+)

bug's summer fic fest (⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)

Carmy never notices when he’s quiet. His head is always so loud in comparison — it’s easy to forget he isn’t saying anything out loud when his mind’s constantly racing. He doesn’t mean anything by it, though. He’s just chronically observant. And painfully silent with it.

He lays on his back, pressed between unmade sheets and your warm body. The covers bunch at your bare hips as you roll in languid thrusts over his lap. A satiny summer breeze smooths over your burning skin from a cracked-open window. Every time the curtains billow, more of the moonlight peeks in. It drips in silver shades over your naked skin and your pretty face, now twisted in a look of undeniable pleasure — brows scrunched, eyes closed, mouth wide open.

Carmy’s tattooed hands rest impatiently on your hips. His fingers dig into the plush of them as he rocks you back and forth over his cock. You make pretty noises for him every time your clit brushes his coarse thatch of pubic hair, so he angles his hips just right to make sure you keep hitting that spot.

“Carmy,” you moan in a whimsical sigh that makes his chest swell. “Just like that. ’S so good like that. Please don’t stop—”

His face, made of dark shadows and sharpened edges, is pinched in a look of acute concentration. A distant feeling of deja veux swims in his stomach. It makes him wonder if he’s seen this in a painting before. One of those Renaissance types. The kinds that are harrowingly realistic and always heart-wrenchingly beautiful in a way.

It makes him want to draw you. Just as you are now. Head tossed back, mouth gently agape, lashes fluttering over glowing cheeks. He wouldn’t be able to do any of it justice, but he tries to memorize the soft lines of your face, anyway.

Your hips slow to a stop. Reality hits him hard.

“Woah, woah— Hey,” Carmy mumbles in protest, brows pinched in confusion when he comes down from the clouds. Through labored breaths that make his sweaty chest rise and fall, he wonders, “What happened? Why’d you stop?”

His icy blue eyes dart over your face, searching for any sign of harm. In true Carmen Berzatto fashion, he immediately thinks he’s done something wrong — that he got too far in his own head and hurt you in some way without realizing. The anxiety is fleeting, but he feels the pinch of it anyway — right where your palm rests flat on his chest, just over his pounding heart.

“Are you okay?” you ask him, similarly panicked. Your bare chest sparkles with a thin layer of sweat and catches the moonlight with every uneven inhale.

Carmy nods rapidly, chestnut curls brushing the pillow. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m— I’m great. Why?”

You exhale a small sigh of relief, growing sheepish under his unwavering gaze. You feel a bit silly for stopping now. “You just aren’t… You aren’t really, you know… saying anything,” you answer shyly.

“Am I supposed to be saying something?”

You giggle quietly to yourself until you realize he’s being genuine. Your smile ebbs as you stammer, “Well, no, it’s just— Some people usually moan, I guess— When they feel good.”

Carmy nods firmly in reassurance. “I feel good.”

“Okay…” you nod back, slower and more unsure.

“I promise,” he tells you, tattooed hands squeezing your sides. He shifts nervously on the mattress, similarly victimized by your adoring stare. “I just… I just like watchin’ you, I guess…”

A shy smile quirks the edges of your mouth as you peer down at the boy beneath you. “You’re sweet, bear,” you coo in a honeyed murmur.

“You’re sweeter,” Carmy insists. You think you see the faintest hint of a grin on his lips, but it’s hard to tell in the low light. “Wanna taste?” he teases a second later.

Wordlessly, you bend down for another kiss, far too chaste for his liking. He almost says something about it until you roll your hips again. The words of protest disappear when he inhales sharply through his teeth.

“Does that feel good?” you ask him.

He nods silently, squeezing your sides in a feeble attempt to move you faster on top of him.

“Tell me.”

“Feels good,” Carmy obeys through gritted teeth.

The subtle assurance makes you moan — a pretty, breathy thing that spills accidentally from your opened mouth. All he can think about is getting you to make that sound again.

“Do you like it when I talk to you?” he wonders aloud, very innocuously curious.

You nod, brows furrowed as you grind over his lap. The bed frame squeaks quietly when you roll your hips forward. When you roll them back again, he can hear the faint sounds of your wet pussy — the quiet schlick-ing of his cock fucking into you. The two noises play one after the other in rhythmic tandem. The sinful sounds of sex.

Carmy racks his head for something to say in the not-so-silent meanwhile. You watch him get lost in his mind and cup his cheeks between gentle palms. “Don’t think so hard about it, bear,” you say with a wavering smile. “You don’t have to say anything. It’s okay.”

You duck down to kiss him again. The angle shifts. Carmy bends his knees and fucks up into you, mercilessly and without warning. Your mouth hangs open in another weak moan that fans across his chin.

“That good?” he pants.

“Yes,” you whine. “Carmy— fuck— You’re so deep…”

Babbles spill from your mouth in thinkless slurs. They tumble from your swollen lips with an admirable effortlessness, which Carmy has never thought himself to possess. He tries, anyway, to talk to you with such sinful ease.

“You’re huggin’ me so tight,” he mutters through a clenched jaw. The very first thought to come to mind as the velvet confines of your cunt pulsate around him, squelching quietly in time with his thrusts. “Can feel you throbbin’ around me, babe— Shit— It’s like a fuckin’ heartbeat.”

Your whine fills the quiet bedroom, adding to the symphony of bed squeaking and skin slapping.

Carmy shifts his hips upward. The new angle allows his cock to reach a spongy depth inside you and pins your swollen clit against his happy trail, which now glimmers with a layer of your honey.

“Right there?” he pants.

You nod wordlessly until the words catch up to you. The tip of your nose brushes the bridge of his. “Yes,” you whimper.

His brutal thrusts pick up pace a second later, never wavering in their wicked pursuit. “Let me hit that spot,” Carmy mumbles to himself like a man crazed. “Let me hit that spot, let me hit that spot.”

Pleasure swells within you, overwhelmingly so. It’s a warm and sparkling feeling in the pit of your stomach — a tightening coil, a fraying rope, a dam about to burst. The intensity of your inevitable orgasm frightens you.

“Carmy…” you whimper.

“I know,” he nods sympathetically, right before he plants his feet on the mattress. He strengthens his thrusts, which have slowly started to lose their rhythm. “It’s okay. C’mon. Cum for me— I can feel you fuckin’ drippin’ on me, baby— C’mon.”

Your jaw clenches to fight back the scream clawing at your throat. It comes out in a pitiful whimper instead when you tense over his lap. Your orgasm washes over you in waves that leave you shaking, thighs trembling on either side of his hips.

Carmy goes accidentally silent once more as he watches you, swelling with pride as you reach the height of your pleasure. His light eyes flit over your features in a feeble attempt to memorize them — the furrow between your brows, the wrinkles beside your shut eyes, the spit-slicked sheen to your kissed lips.

You’re painting brought to life. A heavenly thing he can’t believe he gets to touch with unworthy hands.

“That’s it…” Carmy murmurs lowly. The words bubble in his throat and fall from his mouth mindlessly. He doesn’t even have to think about them now. It just feels right to praise you like this. “That’s it. There you go. So pretty… Always so pretty for me.”

As your body racks with aftershocks, you seek refuge in his arms. Your weight rests entirely upon him as your tense limbs slowly relax, but Carmy doesn’t mind. He just wraps his tattooed arms around you and holds your trembling body closer.

“I got you,” he promises through labored breaths, chapped lips brushing your temple with every word. “I got you. ’S okay. You did so good for me, baby. Thank you.”

You don’t have the words to tell him that you should be the one thanking him.

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thecupidwitch · 6 months ago

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Spell Bags

What Are Spell Bags?

Spell Bags are usually small bags that contain a range of ingredients linked to the intention of your spell. They can sometimes be known as different names, or have slight cultural differences. For the purpose of this post I will refer to a spell bag, but they may also be called spell sachets, charm bags, and in some cultures, mojo bags (please do your own research). You can also make spell jars, which are pretty much the same, only you use a jar and not a bag.

Bag Colors

Gold - wealth, protection, the God Silver - prosperity, the moon, the Goddess Yellow - healing Orange - travel, communication, messages Green - nature, growth, prosperity, abundance, friendship Blue - peace, calm, wisdom, benevolence Purple - wisdom, wealth, grandeur, mysteries, justice Red - success, romance, strength, protection Pink - love, healing, friendship Black - absorbs negative energy

How to Make a Spell Bag

Think about your intention for making the spell bag… Why are you making it?… What do you want to get from it?

Think about ingredients you want to put into the spell bag and their correspondences… What ingredients will fit into your spell bag?… What specific ingredients are associated with your intentions (for example, what herbs are used for protection)

Collect your bag and ingredients, and focus your intent on each of them. You may also want to write a magickal chant. This can be simply read out, or written down to leave inside the spell bag.

Assemble your spell bag.

Spend time either meditating on your intention, or reciting your magickal chant.

Find a place to put your spell bag. This may simply be on your altar, or in your pocket. Alternatively, there may be a specific place you want to put it (such as by your bed for a sleep spell bag, or in the corner of your room for protection).

Tip-Jar

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controld3vil · 8 months ago

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the one

pairing: aegon ii targaryen x targ!reader

synopsis: thrown into madness, not one person can comfort the king of his thoughts. his sister wife left to deal with her grief. his mother for chooses not to heed his needs. his brother, gone in silver of the night. yet you, left forgotten stand in front of him, teary eyed.

notes: i gasped loud this episode!!

content warning: spoilers obvi for s2ep2, themes of grief and inferiority, targcest; if you are uncomfortable, please do not interact.

The death of Jaehearys exhausted you.

Nothing prepared you for the shock and emotional consequences. It felt as though a giant sea storm had swept away your emotions and feelings of sense. Because in a way, you felt numb and unable to comprehend what you were feeling. It was either too strong or your denial in it that made you feel out of it. In the confidence of your home, the grand kingdom of your father and his grandsire before, suddenly you feel apprehensive about where you resided and the castle itself. Who to trust and not as a moment noticed in your head as your mind spirals down a rabbit hole.

Your nephew, a kin of your own, was dead.

He was murdered in cold blood. In the sanctum of your home, in the privacy of the royal rooms. It was your fault you were not by Helaena’s side. Oh, your poor sister, the turmoil she must’ve endured in the small moments last with her son. A small piece of purity and semblance he brought into your little life and a beacon of what you strived for every day. Yet now, it has all turned to blood and dust. Used and tossed away like the sacs of bodies they would throw off dead soldiers in the aftermath of a tiring battle.

There you sat with a half cup of wine, undrank. You dared not step out of the chambers of your comfort. Not for long, your presence would be reminded of the council. You insist on every meeting that your presence would bestow better acquisition. In most eyes, the men divert their gaze from you.

In contrast, your wretched mother opens her mouth agape with hardly any words being supported. Your grandsire contrasts, always with an excuse that you should be needed elsewhere other than the higher discussion. How benign of you, dear granddaughter. But you are unfit for a position at court.

Otto Hightower would never speak those words directly. But you know in your heart and his intuition, the words are nearly there. You don’t need an interpreter to translate what is said by the councilmen. Even if they are unaware, you understand all that is said. A tragic incident, Your Grace. The Kingsguard are doing their best to inspect all the members in the castle as we speak.

“I will have it! They will pay for this!”

The dried tears that swept down your cheeks felt sticky and annoyingly guilt-ridden of the events that had happened. You would not allow them to witness them. They were not worthy of your sadness. In grace, you hiked your dress over your feet to climb up to the doors. From where you were, you could discern the murmurs of Aegon and his hysterical yelling, absolutely mad with anger and rage. Respectfully so, the loss of his child was an unexpected and stressful one.

When the chambers open, the rest of the councilmen stop for a moment. Before you begrudgingly make your way to the center. “Gentlemen,” You are at fault in giving away your tearful expression, the candlelight's of the chandeliers do your angelic features justice. And no noble would dare to speak upon its beauty and sorrow. All while, your lady in waiting, trails timidly behind you, head pointed down in respect. “Your Grace,” You address, and finally for a blind second, a glint of relief flashes on Aegon’s face. Finally, he must think, someone he trusts abides in the room.

“Princess,” The Hand levels his chin, leaving a steady foot of your unforeseen appearance. Beside him, your mother lays agape in both deary and fortification.

The Queen stumbles on the syllables of your name, quietly. As if she was citing a wrongful plea of desperation. “Is- Is Helaena?” Of course, the last she saw you was in her bed chambers, coming in to console your sweet sister and her child. Alicent was running amuck, pulling on the fabric of her dress to prevent you from witnessing her privacies before. Luckily you didn't have to witness that.

“She is with Ser Arryk and Jaeheara.” You breathed out, soft and mellow. You can tell by the exhale of your mother and grandsire's shoulders that deflating meant that their worries were at least accomplished. And a slight corner of your eye, your brother too relaxes in caution, aware of his wife and daughter’s whereabouts.

“Good good,” Alicent frantically nods as if trying to reassure herself that her child and granddaughter were safe. Ser Arryk was a noble knight, one who betrayed his twin to stay beside the king’s side. That alone was enough to prove his loyalty and servitude. “Thank you, my daughter.” You swallow with a gaping hole in your throat. The whole room felt the compacting of the many eyes directed at you and the Queen Mother.

“And what might be the reason for your intrusion on this council meeting, princess?” Otto’s voice somewhat triggers a fight or flight response in you. You’ve dealt with similar situations before, wanting to be included in the war business. However this was different, the council was discussing matters of potential betrayal and the killing of your kin. You suddenly felt targeted for the offense of interrupting something crucial and overriding.

However, you know you should have a say in this matter. “Shouldn’t I be present when the death of my nephew has been informed to me merely hours ago?” There was a snap in your voice that many of them knew. Though some such as your mother and brother were accustomed to that sound more often.

“Perhaps it is best if the princess were with the Queen to rest away comfort and grief,” Maester Orwyle suggests only to infuse your temper.

In a quick turn, your lilac orbs strike an alarming resemblance to vexation and hostility. “Why?” Your tone was sharp and accusing just as it was. The Queen Regent could only watch and stare mutely at your grueling pettiness. Lord Tyland and Ser Criston Cole dare not to look at you but at the maester. While Aegon, all the more slightly frustrated at Maester Orwyle’s comments, stops and waits for your dreadful retaliation like a venomous viper. Otto couldn’t look more disappointed in you.

“The death of your nephew is a tearful one, princess. And maybe you should stay within the quarters with the Queen for safety.” The maester does not falter in his reasoning, knowing how quick and ill-tempered you are similar to your brother was to retaliation. But his expression flickers in doubt shortly after you are seen to lay your palms on the edge of the end of the table. It’s hard wooden material, clenched tightly around your hands as you glance up at the councilman with fury in your eyes.

“I am more capable than you think of me, Maester Orwyle. And I would be damned to sit in silence and pity for this horrendous murder!” You snarl, a frown forming at the edges of your lips. You were livid beyond this. Only when you want to be present in the decisions regarding your kin, did the council decline your way. It’s insulting. “My nephew should be avenged! To whoever ordered the murder!”

“I wholeheartedly agree,” The Hand’s inclusion is an attempt to bring a truce between the others who felt your presence as much of a disturbance. “But we should not be hasty and leave every opportunity out in the open.”

“This is my son we are talking about,” Aegon’s hand came down with a thump on the table. He’s since calmed down but you know there is still rage in his heart. The fuel of it burning and churning for the desire to find and kill whoever brought out the murder. “We must search the grounds for traitors, find anyone who leaves the Red Keep, and capture them immediately!”

“Of course, Your Grace but we should consider what this would be for Rhaenyra,” Alicent reminds the room when she scans everyone’s thoughts and faces. On the other hand, you stand uncomfortably, with the sense of your legs growing numb.

“That bitch queen of bastards will pay!” The King screams, pointing with an accusative finger. “She is on her throne, laughing at me for this! For the death of my son, I want her dead!” It’s like a fire has been lit in your brother’s mind. It flashes and flickers rapidly as he manages to strike and spit out outrage of his growing vengeance on the Black Queen. However quick his temper simmers and rises.

The coming morning of Jaehaerys funeral drags his body to the Sept to be burnt in Targaryen tradition. More importantly, it is to sway the people’s opinion of Aegon’s claim and blame Rhaenyra for the tragic death. Spurs of propaganda flourish in the crowds as the chariot drags the casket of the fresh body, followed by the Queen and her Regent. What felt like discomfort and suffocation for Helaena only her no semblance through the entire morning. She is grieving and mourning in her own way. No one can understand the loss of a mother of her children. It is the tragedy she has felt for the first time and it stings her to her stomach. For most of the ride, Helaena could not breathe or look at the folk people, afraid of what they might do. She’d never left the Keep like this before, presented all fragile and glorious as the new Queen officially.

Even so, she knows you are more suited for the role. Helaena has thought of it many times where you should’ve been wife to Aegon instead of her. She knows why her mother and grandsire chose her. It was because she was compliant and willing to do her duty as a lady wife. While you had no sense of duty. More or less, so did Aegon but at least she would elevate his image as King with her kind personality.

“Helaena,” You spoke, interrupting her thoughts amid her sewing. Your sister pauses and then looks at the piece she has been working on. It was a picture of purple lily flowers, something you had mentioned wanting to see from the grounds of the Highgarden. She thinks of you and subconsciously starts to sew a new patch of thread. She’s sweet to you like that, and you forever cherished that side of her. And it's a shame her softened voice always now came with a stutter and droop of a sob.

Helaena wakes up from her daze and greets you with a warm yet sombreros smile. “You are well?” The question itself leaves bitterness off of your tongue because you should be asking her that. You know Helaena isn’t one to openly express her emotions and thoughts proudly. As her sister, you honor that but also can become the maternal figure she needs within seconds.

“I should be asking you the same,” You smile, looking smug and all. And your sister’s droopy eyes slowly lighten with glee. Her small frown turns upside down and suddenly you feel your heart fill with warmth and joy. “What has the Queen been sewing all this time?”

“Purple lilies,” She gently shows you her work and focuses on your excitement. What she appreciates is your fascination with her skill with a thread and needle. You had no talent in it, much to your mother’s display. But you would gladly watch your sister sew for hours for the fun of it. “I remember you mentioning them a while ago. And I thought it would be pretty to make for you,”

“How thoughtful of you,” You plead with your gentle eyes, resting a hand on her thigh. You looked like you were going to burst into tears out of happiness for her nonsensical act. You act differently around her and the children, sometimes Helaena thinks you have two personalities. One with her family minus Aegon and another with everyone else. You were mushy and caring, nothing like yourself hours earlier in the morrow in the councilroom. She had heard you burst into a meeting, enraged by them claiming you as a disturbance to their discussion. Like the stubborn person you were, she knew you would rather stay and argue with them for hours. And that you, for her boy.

The Queen hums, delighted by your soothing presence in her slightly dimmed room. The room had been cleared of children's beds and toys. Now it lies barren with little to no furniture. The curtains did not change, they were arranged simply to allow some light into the chambers to let the children wake. But now, there would be none and it is left abandoned.

“How is Jaeheara?” The whisper of your voice is the only thing she’s heard after minutes of silence. Helaena does not reply immediately, knowing her thoughts are too invasive and terrifying to think about. The black gown she still has on feels tight and makes her uncomfortable. She doesn't want to remember the funeral. It was too much for her to reminisce about despite being hours earlier.

She makes another loop with bright purple stringing onto her needle. “She is well and is accompanied by a Kingsguard during her lessons,” She makes sure to include the Kingsguard, knowing you have been adamant about the protection and security around King’s Landing. As of late, it felt as though the castle did not feel like home anymore. It became somewhat of a hollow skeleton of a dungeon. With many escape routes and corridors, people would walk in and out without notice. It terrifies her and knowing you, you would rather be killed than have another child murdered.

Her response pleases you however Helaena is aware of something else on your mind. She can feel it without looking at your face to know. It’s your inseparable bond as a sister that you sometimes were astounded by. Helaena calls it a bond and maybe she is right. Your eyes are focussed on somewhere else and it gives her a moment to look at you. Your brows furrowed with a subtle curve of a scowl makes her believe you were having negative thoughts. Were you feeling guilty about Jaehearys death?

“What’s wrong sister?” Despite her knowing the reason, Helaena wants you to admit your remorseful thoughts. The veil that covered her face was no longer present and she could face you without barriers. Her lilac eyes look at you, softening at you.

“I can’t help but think I am guilty of Jaehearys death,” You sound vulnerable, no other person would witness this side of you. Because you shielded this side of you. Your display of weakness was only meant for people like Helaena, close to you, unjudging and caring in your coping. Yet sometimes you think of your sinful thoughts of guilt to be an act of punishment. You sometimes felt you were meant to feel this way for not being present with the Queen and her children when it happened. Why couldn’t you be a good sister and protect the ones you loved?

“You should not be,” Her small palm cradles the side of your jaw, making your stare connect with her. Helaena is quiet and gentle in her expression of words. What she says always has an impact. She is a woman of few words and it makes her speech inspirational. “I- For anything, it was my part as a mother, for letting my child be murdered in cold blood-”

“No of course not!” You were quick to retaliate to her pleas. She could not be responsible for such a horrific act taken against the crown. “Helaena, you did your best to protect your children.”

“Yet I was asked to choose,” The bottom of her lips quivered, and eventually hot tears filled her waterline. “And I had no other choice!”

“You were held at knifepoint,” You grasped the hand that held your jaw. Gently and slowly to make sure and emphasize her attention to you. “I would’ve bursted into the room and offered myself if I could’ve. But you did the best you did as a mother to protect your children.” You gave her another tight squeeze.

“I had no other choice,” Her sobs slowly brewing. And the tears flowed and there was nothing you wanted to do other than comfort your dear sister. She was grieving like any mother. You would be present for her and give Helaena all of the world, to give away her sorrow. However, it is inevitable and you best offer her your condolences and feelings of heartbreak. Because you did love her children, Jaehearys and Jaeheara. The light and beacon of Helaena and Aegon's marriage.

Helaena’s figure dwindled as she scrunched herself forward into a curling ball. The weight of her thoughts was too much. As a parent, she believed she failed the role she was meant to play. Her cries did not stop or steady in a rapid heartbeat. Any further, Helaena believes she would’ve acted impulsively if not for you, holding onto her shoulders. You were gentle against her tragic and frail body when you allowed her head and shoulders to rest against your chest. You’re silent in the comfort you gave. Because no words could pursue more than your actions. Being the more responsible and maternal figure, you became a weeping shoulder for Helaena to spout the rest of her worries and anguish.

You wonder what Aegon and his sorrows are.

Criston Cole was in a predicament. He failed as a Kingsguard to protect the royal family. And because of his absence, a dead prince was left at the doorstep of the king. He’s ashamed in silence because he could not make any reason for where he was during the intrusion of the castle. His affair with Alicent was more than a passionate one. It consoled him and eased for the upcoming days of Aegon’s coronation and Rhaenyra’s horrific deeds. The knight was stuck in a situation he wished would not bring to the public eye. No one can know of his relations with the Queen Regent. Not when times were suspenseful and dire as to who to trust in the castle.

And so, after he challenges Ser Arryk to do the impossible and slay the Black Queen within her quarters of Dragonstone, he desires to focus on his plans with the king. The afternoon following the prince’s funeral, Ser Criston smoothes out the ends of his locks, recomposing his hysterical manner against the twin knight. Of, the accusations of treason against the king and the knight’s code. He should be honoring the Kingsguard words at the back of his sleeves by now. For all that has occurred to him, Criston wants to prove to the king he is capable of being essential.

The summer breeze is faint and noticeable to those in the Red Keep. It’s open corridors and windows, it is the perfect spot for sunlight. The Kingsguard makes his way to Aegon’s chambers, where he plans to inform his schemes of sending Ser Arryk away to Dragonstone. In hopes, it would please His Majesty of the constant restless nights he has experienced.

But he nearly misses you. It takes a second for Ser Criston to take a step back and look back at what you have been doing. You, the princess, looking out of place in the training area of the stables. Where knights and stable boys fight and practice their combat. It was a place you’re likely forbidden to be, however, it has never stopped you. The knight knows of your ambitions to fight like your brothers. You’re eager, more confident than your siblings to practice. He had suggested once to the Queen that she should allow you use of the sword. For self-defense and hobbies.

You practically begged Alicent to hold a sword in your hands. Your cute chubby cheeks as a small child were something he remembered sometimes. You were so eager then. He could still see it occasionally when you ventured to the training area, staring at the knights practicing their moves and defenses.

��Are you alright, princess?” Ser Criston appears behind you and you’re suddenly aware he must’ve been standing behind you for some time. He knows you come here to think and be reminded of the past. “The morrow has been rather bleak has it not?”

“Rather too bleak,” You groan, crossing your arms and rubbing your forehead in weariness. You’re aware the Kingsguard is not allowed to probe your troubles further but you rather indulge. “The day grows weary for the wavering support of the other Houses.” A quiet nod of endearment is seen from the knight as he reminisces about why they had exhibited the funeral exactly. To spread rumors and weaken the queen bastards' claim.

“It will help us in the long run, princess,” He steps forward as you turn to stare at his gentle Dornish features. Maybe in another lifetime, you would’ve fallen for him if he wasn’t a knight.

“Is that what the Queen Regent said?” A switch and it was like your tone turned to bitterness the moment you mentioned your mother. Ser Criston feels his heartache at your sentiments to the Queen. She was your mother and loved you very much. Something you can’t seem to appreciate whenever you open your mouth in front of the council. While she has complained and spouted worries of your deterring interactions, you’ve taken glory in the distance between you and your mother. Ser Criston hopes one day you will reprimand that relationship.

“No,”

“Tell me, why do you value her opinion so much?” He eyes at you shaking your head with a heavy scowl of disgust. Your hatred towards your mother ran cold and poisonous, under the depths of your hard-spoken shell of a heart. Maybe some part of you did care about the Queen. If there was, Criston had never been able to witness it, you’re too stubborn. And you know Alicent cherishes him deeply.

“She has a kind heart,” The Dornish man cannot more than understand why you probe his opinion of your mother. Were you suspicious? He’s served your mother for nearly a decade and gained her trust as her right-hand protector. Yet where was he when an intruder entered the castle grounds and left Helaena traumatized and crying?

You snarl a mocking laugh, “A kind heart?” You’re staring at the Queen’s protector with discontent and failure. “She plots and schemes to gain the people's trust over my brother’s claim. What more is she than the Hand’s right-hand puppet.” This is an alarming accusation because Ser Criston knows Alicent does not trust her father with her boys and daughters. You were an example of that. Whoever she plots with, he knows she takes into consideration who is affected the most. She was the Queen of course. Dainty and considerate of her subjects.

“Another advantage we have over Rhaenyra, princess,” He reminds you of the whole reason why the council decided such a thing. It’s grueling yet would sway the people in their favor towards the crown than that false liar of a ruler across the land. “Understand that everything she and the council decide is to gain more allies,”

“By simply lying to the public and creating more web of lies for us to be stuck in,” You probe and your lilac orbs glow in a dark tone. You could not stand the ploy they had used for Jaehaerys funeral. You think it was anything but honorable, to use your nephew as a cause and leeway to denounce your half-sister. Ser Criston gives you a look, only a parent would hold when their child does something to disappoint them. And even though he was not your father, he still felt utterly responsible and devoted to you as one. He has seen you grow from a child to a woman. He’s aware of your struggle in your place at court. He was there when you desperately wanted to hold a bow and arrow, practically crying to your mother on your knees. He was also there to comfort you when you accidentally drove your dragon into a terrible accident. Criston Cole felt some kind of platonic love over you, despite you never feeling the same way. ‘

Yet he couldn’t help but agree with you. “You’re right, princess. But it is the only way to convince the townsfolk of our cause. We need their support to win this coming war.” He sees your shoulders slumped, most likely growing tired of talking back and forth of their intention to false news. You hated how everyone agreed to it wholeheartedly.

“We need more than the support of the townsfolk to win a war,” Your lips turn to a thin line, contemplating all the reasons why you had to be on the wrong side of justice. “We have dragons, that is how we win a war.”

Nightfall was as unanticipated as it was wanted. The funeral and rumors from the council made it unbearable to walk past servants and nobles without being reminded of it. There were many times you wished to stop in front of the people and shout in their faces. There would be no denying it all. However, you were done with it. You were tired of receiving the same piece of news and rumors. It made you hereditarily furious and petty like a child. But no violence has been spilled. Instead, you could only clench your palms, aggressively and move on with a faint scowl. A puff or two would break your cover.

Moreover, the servant girls and maids knew what made you tick. The type of gossip you hate to talk and listen about. Since you’ve lived in the castle for the entirety of your life span. So regardless of whether they spoke of today’s events or not, people knew you were not in a great mood. More or less you were agitated, imitating, and not to be consoled.

You made it your routine to visit Helaena before going to bed. When you were younger, you and your sister often paid visits to your mother and sometimes your father if present. Queen Alicent would soothe your worries and nightmares while Viserys sat in silence, unable to speak due to the pain. Yet now, that was before you and Helaena slept in the same room. She was Queen now and had a separate room with her children. It was you who made it customary to ease her worries at night and say goodnight to her children. Jaehaerys and Jaehaera, her beautiful children. Even now, after everything had happened, you wanted to honor your promise to visit the new Queen.

The granite tiles were cold. You could feel it despite wearing soft padded shoes. Your garments were loose and free from the restraints and pains you’d worn for the day. But somehow it made you feel anxious and oddly vulnerable out in the open. Of course, it was natural to feel this way after what happened. But everything, even the times you felt the most safe was now invaded by thoughts of fear and concern. You swallowed whatever security you had and moved along the balcony inside King’s Landing. The royal rooms were all the same, but you knew which belonged to whose. You knew which rooms were your mother’s, your sister’s, which had the best hiding spots, and which had the quickest way out of the city.

Although whose room brought you the most curiosity was the one in front of you. In the distance, where you stood, a figure of green exits out of the room and disappears into the darkness. Your mother. Alicent did not seem to be in a rush to have exited Aegon’s chambers nor did she look content coming out of it. It looked as though she had mistaken his room for another.

Hastily your paused movements began to quicken. As you tip-toed towards the doors of your king, you twist the knob and a soft creak makes you curse out of anonymity. The bed chamber was dimly lit and the fireplace illuminated a gorgeous orange dew that covered half the room in warmth. The drapes of the windows were slightly closed, making the silhouette of Aegon, hunched over more evident. He leans in a cushioned chair by the fire and you can see his unsecured locks, shape the sides of his face.

You quickly realize your brother’s sobbing, saddening and heartbreaking. For all the things he was, Aegon did not deserve to lose a child. You understood very much as him that Alicent had planned his coronation for a long time. Yet now that it has happened, tragedies come down like dominoes in a panic. Lucerys has died on dragonback. And now Jaehearys was murdered in cold blood. Both are innocents from the result of this pretentious battle for power between Rhaenyra. It is when you shut the door behind you with a faint click, you make yourself known to the king.

“Aegon,” It’s a whisper with no silence. Covering his face to shield his tears, Aegon does not dare to look at you. He looks ashamed and can only stare down, lost and in failure. You understand his dismissal of your presence. No one should see their king as weak like this. Not even his closest kin and mother. Only that his mother has witnessed this scene a multitude of times over the years of watching over her son. Still, you were not the type to witness Aegon at such a low point like this.

Nothing. You wanted nothing from him, seconds ago only curious about his profound discussion with your mother, who did not seem to speak to him at all. Something about that makes your heart churn at the Queen Regent. You walk slowly and only when you finally face him, his gaze is still on the floor, unable to lift his head to say anything. Go away! You’re making a fool out of yourself.

Instead, you closed the gap that separated the two of you. You clasped his neck and held it firmly in a consoling manner. His weeping only grew louder the moment he felt your touch, so comforting and soft. His hands eventually wrap themselves around your waist and he rests the side of his head against your stomach.

Only you can soothe him like this. It’s discovered to be the most effective way for Aegon to calm down, your touch perhaps was the solution to it. It was never touched upon, this consolation you had with him, there were rare occasions when the prince had become too drunk to return to his quarters to have gone to yours instead. There were times when your brother wanted to hide and be away from your conniving mother and her insults. Sometimes he’d cry, drink, or rant about her inconsolable expectations of him. Because truly you are the closest to understanding that feeling. The feeling of being unwanted and as though you were not doing enough of your duty to care. Of course, you cared, you did everything for your family. Still, it could never be enough to put a smile on your mother’s face. And more evidently that of your grandsire.

“I’m sorry,” You let out a dreary breath, rubbing Aegon’s hair. He sniffles, allowing his forehead against your stomach. He closes his eyes and lets out a sad laugh that turns into a cry. He’s lost so much in a matter of days. No one to comfort him, and his wife silently grieving in her own time. His mother forever abandoned her efforts. And his brother disappears with no explanation. Now here you were, the one he found relying on.

“I tried so hard,” He cries out, snot and tears making his speech muffled and disproportionate. “Yet everything has backhanded and slapped me in my face!” You feel a quiver on your lips when he speaks those words. Your heart burns and aches and maybe finally, you can put away your pride and be gentle. You reach behind where his hands are secured by your waist. Sliding them down to allow you to kneel to his level. With his red-shot eyes and puffy cheeks, Aegon looks like he wants to give up everything now and then. He’s never looked so weak and tiresome.

“I know,” You shaped his face with your palms, sliding your thumbs over his cheeks. They are dried of momentary tears when he looks so desperate to cling onto anything to save him. “And as king, it is a heavy toll. Jaehearys will know you did everything you could to avenge his death.”

“It has gone to madness,” His lilac orbs staring at you with such intensity and possibly love. Torn and twisted, you know this is a wife’s duty to be her husband. Though under Helaena and Aegon’s relationship, they have never loved each other. They were husband and wife, yes but only under law. Helaena held no love but did genuinely care for his well-being. And you had shown more devotion towards his feelings than anyone had done within days. “What am I supposed to do now?”

“You can start by figuring who and who not to trust at court,” You exhale, heart beating like a bass drum when you feel his hands circle yours. “Know who your trusted allies are and destroy Rhaenyra’s support.”

“Then I need you,” He leans forward, his silver locks tangled in between yours. His gaze was wild and desperate for any kind of refusal you might have. “I need you at court. By my side, you are as essential as any of us there.” It felt as though nothing in the world mattered next only the two of you at this moment. At this important moment, you felt a surge of adrenaline and an urge to comply with his heeds. Your eyes momentarily trail to his lips before discerning back to his eyes.

“Because I have a dragon,”

“Because you are my blood, you are a strategist and the smartest woman I know in the Seven Kingdoms,” His dried tears make him even more angelic. Perhaps in another lifetime, you two would’ve married instead and dealt with it more easily. Your mother knew it. Your gransdire did too. Despite it all, they all disapproved of you for your lack of devotion to duty. What more can you offer than your service directly to the crown? To the council? It makes you grin in pride for his acknowledgment of you.

“Of course, my king,” And with those words, he closes the gap between your lips. Sorrowful no way but profound in a new kind of serge to overcome the tragic delay. You were right in front of his eyes all along. You, the second-born princess of Alicent and Viserys' marriage. Quip with a sharp tongue and tactics for how long you’ve studied the art of it. You were no ordinary princess. You were a fighter, a warrior who well enough wanted bloodshed as much as him.

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incorrectbatfam · 6 months ago

Note

The Wayne Olympics. But instead of an Olympics style event, it’s the Wayne kids plus their friends partaking in one unhinged event after another.

Barbara puts together the opening ceremony with Cass as the Assassin's Creed torchbearer someone please draw this

Damian and Jon are the judges, rating them on Fabulousness, Memeability, and How Many Heart Attacks Will Bruce Have

Bruce is in the audience will 15 cups of coffee because no way he's falling asleep now (the Justice League is mildly concerned)

Kate and Selina team up against Harley and Ivy in the Queer Women's Volleyball Escape Room

Dick and Wally win the Synchronized Time Travel Gymnastics medal by performing their routine with dinosaurs

Luke easily wins in Chess Boxing even though he overslept and showed up late

Harper scales the Wayne Enterprises tower instead of rock climbing and Cullen is her cheerleader

Tim, Kon, Bart, and Cassie win the Intercontinental Quadathalon, starting from Argentina and ending in South Africa (the four events are running, swimming, biking, and skateboarding)

Bette enters the Laser Rollerblading Table Tennis event using batarangs instead of paddles

Duke and his friends get the gold in Arctic Tandem Mountain Biking

Steph and Lois go head-to-head in the Taekwondo Cooking competition and both get silver to Alfred

Helena finishes first in Underwater Soccer and when Italy asks if they can have the medal she refuses

Jason and Roy enter the shooting contest. Somehow that Turkish guy shows up and beats them both

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arcanefox207 · 1 month ago

Text

The Warden.

GameWarden!Joel Miller x F!Reader Explicit 18+ MDNI | 3.8k WC | AO3

Summary: Your hike into the woods doesn’t go as planned when a depraved Game Warden catches you breaking the rules.

Warnings: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT. Power imbalance. DUBCON (could be considered NONCON). Reader is into it but she still doesn't have a choice. Reader is smaller than Joel and has hair he can grab. Explicit smut. Oral (male receiving). Fingering. Violence. Manipulation. Unprotected P in V. Cum talk. Creampies. Dark!Joel.

Notes: Please read the warnings. HUGE thanks to @joelmillerisapunk for beta'ing (love you, Odi!) Also FYI Game Wardens (also sometimes known as conservation / wildlife / DNR officer) can have broader authority than police and can even search your person / property without a warrant, are expert marksmen and usually work alone.

M A S T E R L I S T | A O 3 | N O T I F S

You saw the sign and ignored it, like you always did, as you walked down your favorite hiking trail. The one that few people knew about. The trail that was always peaceful and quiet and you rarely met another soul. Your hidden secret that you loved to escape to. The one that had been marked as “Trail Closed” for months now for reasons you could never quite figure out.

As the forest thinned you finally reached the majestic bounty you sought. A quaint pond, nestled in the pines. The waters edge pebbled with rocks and ferns. Water lilies sparsely decorated the surface. What once was a sprawling picnic destination was now overgrown. Serene and abandoned to nature.

You knelt down and ran your hands over the stones, picking up and admiring their unique beauty of the ones that caught your eye.

You were so preoccupied taking in the comforts of the world around you that you never heard him. Never even considered there were eyes on you, watching you from behind some overgrowth.

“Excuse me, miss,” his voice startles you as you stand quickly and turn around. “You’re in violation of State Park rules and regulations.”

“Huh?” Your words come out sounding dumb and caught off guard. You quickly scan for the source of the voice and see some movement in the bushes, revealing a man.

He walks towards you, emerging from his hiding spot. A tall and broad man, head to toe in the standard olive green uniform that the wardens wore. A tactical belt and vest and a scoped rifle slung on his back. His toned physique mesmerizes you with each step forward.

“It’s my sworn duty to enforce the law and enact justice as I see fit.” His words were robotic and rehearsed.

As he got closer you could see he was an older man and incredibly handsome with some greys in his beard along his jawline. His hair was shorter with wavy curls, pushed back neatly with some silver catching in the sunlight. His skin weathered by the sun. His aquiline nose made his face look even more intense and powerful, matching his words. Broody and serious. This was a man who was in control.

“And you’re trespassing,” he lowers his voice, “in my territory.”

You were trespassing. He wasn’t wrong. You felt your body flush with a wave of panic, with a hint of arousal crawling somewhere deep inside you. Lurking and waiting with intrigue and fear.

“Area’s posted.” he says as he now stands in front of you. You are at a loss for words, caught doing what you thought was harmless.

He senses your panic and it rallies him to toy with you.

“This is a protected wildlife conservation that you’re messin’ with, sweetheart.” He pauses and changes his tone to intimidate you as he leans in close. “And you see, I don’t like that.”

You feel your heart race. Were you actually getting in trouble for taking an innocent hike in the woods?

“You know who I am?” He crosses his arms in front of his chest while he waits for you to speak. His veiny, chiseled forearms distract you. He looks so scrappy and dangerous.

“The Game Warden?” You hesitate.

“That's right.” he nods with a cunning smirk. “Name’s Joel, but you’re gonna call me Sir.” He enunciates it firmly.

You feel your body overwhelmed with conflicting emotions. You were scared but also felt a pulsing go through you when he spoke. You didn’t want him to be upset with you. Everything about him was screaming: dangerous, do not piss off.

“I’m sorry about trespassing. I didn’t know… Sir.” You added his title for good measure.

But you did know. You knew every time you walked past the sign at the entrance telling you not to. Bullshit was not going to fly here and only fueled him more.

“Lying to an officer too?” He shakes his head as it hangs low. He circles you with intimidation, looking you up and down. Lecturing you with silence and waiting for your reparations to be determined.

You can’t fight off that lukewarm feeling inside you that grows warmer. Slowly it gnaws away at your resolve. Seeing him with the tactical vest on that snuggly accented his chest and left his belly exposed with nothing but his green shirt covering it. The only spot that was vulnerable and soft. The rest of his body was strong, protected by his excessive gear, lean muscles and mean looks.

You see his name badge embroidered with ‘MILLER’ and accidentally whisper his name out loud like it's a question. Wondering who this man is and what his intentions are. In the peaceful calm of the woods in the middle of nowhere, your whisper may have well been a shout.

“Officer Miller.” He corrects with authority in his tone as he leans over you. “And I’m gonna have to discipline that mouth of yours.”

You’ve never been in trouble with the law before, and certainly never had a run in with a Game Warden. You knew they were essentially lone wilderness cops with a god complex and few restrictions. Still, you knew this was far from acceptable behavior. Everything about how he was acting was wrong. You open your mouth to protest, but hesitate on his threats. He relishes in how you work it out in your head that talking back isn’t going to get you out of this. You can only bite your tongue so long.

“I’ll report you.” You threaten back, acting like you have some moral upper hand to hang over him.

“Go ahead. Ain’t nothing you can do about your situation right now, sugar plum.” He scoffs. “Not to mention, s’your word against mine.” He stops circling and leans into your ear as his southern drawl makes the words sound smooth and buttery. Hot and melting on his breath as they drip out of his mouth.

“Wanna take a guess who wins?” He says deviously and you can feel his patchy beard scrape against your jaw as he pulls away. A shiver pulses through you, right down to your pussy. Beating to his unsought touch.

Why is this turning you on so much?

“You see darlin’, I’ve been watching you for a long, long time.” He circles again. “And you keep breaking the rules.”

Your heart races. This was getting serious. The realization hits that he can do whatever he wants and get away with it, and that is exactly his intention.

“On your knees, and hands where I can see ‘em.” he barks.

You obey, folding under his commands. Hoping your obedience would lessen the blow.

You drop down gently unsure of what exactly he was playing at, treating you like a violent criminal. You stretch your arms out to your sides with your palms up in submission. He stops just in front of you, scooching down so he is eye level. A tiny grunt as his knees bend. Tobacco and leather scents accompany him.

“I’ll let you off with a warning… if you promise me you won’t be doing it again.” He offers. Sweet words coming out slow and sticky like honey.

“I won’t. I promise. It won’t happen again.” You quickly plead. Foolishly hopeful this was it. Ignoring the conditional implication of his terms.

He stands back up with his arms crossed before raking one of his hands through his hair, thinking. He wasn’t buying what you were selling.

He paces in front of you. The obscene bulge in his pants was impossible not to notice as he parades it past your sightline. Back and forth, back and forth. He was packing more than just a firearm.

He stops directly in front of you so your eyes are mere inches from it. You look all the way down to his feet in an attempt to hide the red that flushes your face. Trying to dismiss your own arousal that was getting louder and wetter.

He reaches down to your chin and cranes your neck up to look at him with an urgency.

“Gonna’ need some convincing, sugar plum.”

Fuck...

He releases you and walks to the nearby weathered picnic table and lays his rifle down. He unsnaps his utility belt that was strapped over his waist and leg and tosses it along with his handgun in tow. It made his broad shoulders look even wider with his waist unhindered by the bulky gear.

The uppercase “WARDEN�� embroidered on the back of his green tactical vest serves to remind you that he is an officer of the law. It taunts you as he takes his sweet time laying out his things neatly on the table while you wait with anticipation for whatever was happening next.

As he turns to walk back towards you, snatched in his vest, he tries to conceal the smirk pulling up from the corner of his mouth. You hate how good he looked, as if it could ever excuse how disgusting he was behaving.

He stands coolly just a foot in front of you and unbuckles the modest leather belt. The metal clasps clank loudly as he lets it hang down and unzips. He clocks your reaction as he pulls up his shirt enough to show his messy thatch of hair trailing down his lower belly.

He can’t be serious…

Reaching a hand inside his boxers he pulls them down slowly as his cock peeks out. Big and fat and leaking. Aching to be touched.

He is serious.

His eyes are focused intently on yours, watching them widen as you take in his cock. It's just in front of your nose as you look up and sit back on your haunches.

“Go on,” he growls and lowers his voice. “Convince me.”

He reaches his hand around his cock and pumps it. The broad head glistening in his precum as he drags his hand down his shaft. You wonder how long he had been watching you and if he had been stroking himself before he approached you. Maybe this interrogation was all foreplay for him. In fact, you were certain it was.

The hot feeling surging in your core surprises you. You were actually turned on by this pig. Still, you knew this was beyond fucked up. You hesitate with what to do next, conflicted by his abuse of power and the inappropriate way your body was betraying you.

“You gonna disobey a warden?” He threatens, getting impatient.

You wonder what if you refused? What if you didn’t play his game? What would he actually do? It still didn’t feel like there was an option other than what was right in front of you, demanding your obedience.

This was only ending one way. His way.

“No, sir.” You swallow and fight back the tears. You place your palms and claw your fingers into his thighs as you sit up straight. You start to open your mouth and look up at him with glossy eyes. Conceding to him.

You catch that spark of darkness igniting in his eyes. Burning hot and formidable as it spreads through him. Your misfortune was making him harder.

He parts your mouth open with the tip resting on your bottom lip. He teases it in and out, letting you feel the weight as the ridge catches on your lip.

God he was big.

“Give it a kiss first and be real polite.”

You close your lips over the tip and appease him with your gentle touch. Polite even. You suckle it delicately, drawing out beads of saltiness as it drips onto your taste buds. You can’t stop your natural impulse to flick his slit with your tongue and it makes him stiffen even more, twitching in response.

“Good girl.” he praises as he tangles his free hand in your hair. You wince as his firm grip pulls you closer to him. He pushes into your mouth. Inch by inch. The hand on his cock held it steady until you were adjusted to his size. He lets go and slides his hand above your nape, letting you take the full weight of his cock as you hollow your cheeks.

He was so thick.

You decide to give him something he wants without asking, attempting to entice him to be kinder. His roughness was starting to hurt when he pulled at your hair and dug into your skin. Relaxing your mouth he pushed further in without your protest. Nestled tight in your warm and wet paradise. You notice his urgency shift.

“Nice and slow. No need to rush.” He commands as you take him deeper. This order sounds more like it's for himself so he doesn’t cum too early. You can feel how close he is. He was ready to burst the moment you dropped to your knees.

You gag as the head hits the back of your throat.

“Oh, you sound pretty like that.” He moans as he closes his eyes and leans his head back. “Choking on my cock.” He makes a guttural sound as he nudges his cock even deeper into your throat. He was impossibly large as he fights to stuff you full.

“Hold still.” He fucks into your mouth. Harder. Harder. Harder. Pulling your hair too tight and pushing your head too far onto him as he bucked into you.

With tears in your eyes making your nose run you can hardly breathe. Gasping and choking and a cock stuffed in your mouth, bruising your throat with each plunge.

He snarls as he looks down to you, locking eyes. Blown out. Feral. Dark and desperate like he was giving in to his wildest, forbidden desires with no regard for you. It was a selfish need he was taking for himself and only himself. You were nothing. A wet hole for his cock to fuck.

He was coming undone. His moaning and panting echoing across the serene pondscape and tainting your safe escape forever. Even that memory he was taking from you.

You were waiting for it. Bracing for his hot spend to pour into you but instead he slowed. Thrusting deep into you with a grunt before dragging out his wet, dripping cock. He winced as it popped out of your mouth and you gasped for air.

This sick fuck was edging himself.

He wanted more. Needed more.

“Get up.” His haggard, breathy words bite at you.

He lifts you up by your hair. You quickly comply to relieve the pressure on your scalp as you stumble to your feet. A whine escapes you as he lets go roughly.

“Gonna make sure you learn your lesson today.” He gestures to the picnic table just a few steps away and you shamefully go to it.

He pushes you to lean over the bench and bends you in an ‘L’ shape. You press your arms against the seat to hold yourself up. He drags his hand down your back and around to your hips, admiring your delicate form laid out before him. He wanted to lose himself inside you.

He drags a hand between your legs and feels your cunt hot and wet against your shorts. He lets out a growl as his fingers get soaked along your seam.

You hate how good it feels to have him touch you where you ache for friction.

“Mmm…” he groaned as he breathed in your arousal on his fingertips. “Knew you wanted this cock inside you.” He ruts his hardness against your ass.

He slides his hands over your back. Over your hips. Down the sides of your legs until he stops abruptly. Fingering at something jagged in your pocket. Something you forgot was there.

“What's this?”

Your heart stops. You can tell from his tone that he knew exactly what it was.

He slips his hand in your pocket and pulls out two shiny stones you had collected from the waters edge.

Fuck.

“Caught stealing from the cookie jar.” He clicks his tongue to scold you. He was stacking his case with further evidence to hang over your head.

“Oh, Darlin.” He fakes a sympathetic tone. “You’re in big trouble now.”

It was then you realized he knew all along. He was watching your every move. He was waiting for the right moment to manipulate you to his will.

“Bad girl. Larceny is gonna cost you more than just an apology.” He drops the rocks carelessly and grabs your waistband, pulling your shorts and panties down to your ankles in one motion. You gasp as he makes you step out of them as he pushes you forward so your knees are on the bench seat. You catch yourself on the edge of the table. Half naked, exposed and totally fucked.

“Spread 'em nice and wide for me.” He knocks your legs apart with his knee as he stands behind you, his cock notched against your entrance and it sparks an adrenaline surge inside you when you feel his tip press into you.

“Please!” You beg him. “Please stop. I’m not letting you fuck me!” You spit out with an attitude. This was a line too far. A line he was intentionally pushing to see how far he could go before you fought back.

Unsurprising to you, he liked playing with fire.

He reaches out and grabs your neck with his wide grip, roughly pinning you prone against the table so you can’t move. He leans over, and hovers low to your ear as his shaft drags against your seam.

“Ain’t making you do nothing, sugar plum.” He pauses and breathes in the sweet scent of your shampoo as he prods you gently with his nose. Tantric and hungry with his movements.

“I can take you now and then we’ll be done with it, or I can take you in. S’your choice.” He loosens up his grip on your neck and sits back slightly. He feels the way you tremble under his touch, and the way your cunt throbs against his heat still pressing against it.

You feel it too. Something you can’t explain. A primal feeling of desire. Surrendering to your most basic human needs. That having him inside you might not be so bad. A rationalizing in your brain that you did wrong after all. It’s only sex.

Only sex. You’ve certainly done worse with lesser men under the guise of alcohol.

“I can promise you, they won’t be nearly this forgivin’ at the state prison.” He traces his finger down your spine, being delicate and gentle. Tracing until his finger runs into his belly pushed flush against you. He leans back and grabs his cock. Painfully hard and still soaked from earlier. He presses the head right against your swollen clit and rubs it against you.

You let out a moan and he knows he has you.

“Tell me you don’t want this. That you don’t want to cum all over my cock.” He strokes your clit with his head again and again. Knocking at your door and waiting for you to answer.

“I’ll make it real good for you, sugar plum.” Your clit pulses on his cock. Needy and hedonic. Forsaking any restraint you have left to say no.

You take a deep breath and curse under your breath, curling your fingers around the edge of the table as you sit up and face forward.

“Get on with it.” You concede.

He smiles wickedly. He was always going to get what he wanted in the end.

With you still sitting on your knees he locks his body against yours, his feet planted firmly on the ground. He pulls you up so your back is flush with his chest and wraps a hand around the front of you, rubbing and pinching at your clit with his rough fingers and dipping them into your hole. Spreading your slick. Stretching you open as he scissors his fingers.

His body against yours was so much bigger. Broad and strong. You were the mouse and he was the lion about to pounce. His heat piercing through your skin. You felt him line up at your entrance, nudging you with his tip.

There is no more patience or preparation. He needs to fuck you now. Needs to have that friction choking his cock that has been rock solid for too long. Without warning he thrusts into you again and again and again. Each time a little deeper and harder. His fat head catching on all your ridges as your pussy grabbed onto him.

It felt so fucking good and you hate it. You hate him.

He stretches you more than you’ve ever felt before. The initial pain subsides as he rubs your clit fiercely with his fingers. The pleasure inside you builds. He kept his word that he would make it real good for you.

He puts his leg up on the bench for leverage and bottoms out inside you with a grunt as he pulls you down on his cock. Fucking up into you and impaling you with his cock.

Your moans run away from you, loudly filling the air with obscenities. You feel your climax building up inside you. You’ve never been fucked so hard in your life and you are soaking him. You know he won’t last much longer.

“Please..” you beg him between moans.

“Please what?” he snarls as he fucks you harder, his cock ready to spill.

“Please... Sir. Pull out,” you beg him.

He laughs at your ridiculous request and ignores you, wrapping his arms around you to pull you hard against his body. One hand wrapped around and splayed over your belly and the other curled around your breasts and pushing on the front of your throat. He had you held so tightly to him there was no way you could stop him.

Your climax tears through you.

“Carry in… Carry out.” He recites the most basic of park rules between grunts while you brace for it. “Leave nothing behind.”

He releases into you. His hot cum coating your deepest walls as he empties into your cunt with the loudest orgasm. He pushes you down prone and fucks it deep inside you before he starts to soften, making sure you know he was deliberately filling you up with his seed.

He collapses on you and you breathe together for a moment. He leaves an unexpected kiss on your shoulder and another on your neck, silently thanking you for letting him use your body.

“Next time pay attention to the game cams, sugar plum.” he nods up at a nearby tree and he gives a side smile. Mocking your mistake.

He withdraws his cock from you and lets you fall forward, his cum already running down your legs. He eyes your mess with a smirk, pleased with his conquest.

“I’m always watching.” He says with a wink.

Tagging some cool people that I love very much and fellow Joel Hole comrades (please note if it’s too dark for your taste it’s totally ok to skip!)

@magpiepills @for-a-longlongtime @milla-frenchy @itwasntimethatdidit40 @youandmeand5bucks

@toxicanonymity @wethairjoel @evolnoomym @almostfoxglove @beardedjoel

@aurorawritestoescape @hellishjoel @lotusbxtch @murder-wife @joelstummy

@pearlessance @pedropeach @tonysopranosrobe @sawymredfox @macfrog

@slimybeth69 @whocaresstillthelouvre @joelsdagger @baronessvonglitter @covetyou

@chronically-ghosted @skbeaumont @yourcoolauntie @yopossum @beefrobeefcal

@sp00kymulderr @moonlitbirdie @wheresarizona @syd-djarin @punkshort

@sin-djarin @guiltyasdave @strang3lov3 @frannyzooey @tightjeansjavi

@cavillscurls @gasolinerainbowpuddles @pedgito @survivingandenduring

@ozarkthedog @mountainsandmayhem @schnarfer @pedrospatch @penvisions

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clockwayswrites · 27 days ago

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Danny in Metropolis Ch2/P2

masterpost this is a first draft, please no editing or concrit <3

(much love to @fadinggalaxysalad for the idea of Kon considering his own logo)

Picking out a lunch box was surprisingly hard. It said so much about a person.

Jon's was a Robin lunch box, because of course it was. Though Kon very much doubted that Damian's was a Superboy one (especially since it wouldn't be a Superboy the Second one). Kon’s own was a simple black one that he has been doodling on all year with a silver sharpie.

Maybe predictively, school was full of lunch boxes of superheroes, pop stars, geometric colors, and semi-abstract artsy patterns. Anything deemed not too “kiddy”. Eliminating the kiddy things on the shelf didn't get Kon very far. His own logo caught his eye, sitting innocently on the shelf among the Justice League heroes.

It was a little tempting. The thought of Danny carrying around his symbol through school every day brought a flush to Kon’s cheeks.

But there was no was he was going deal with the teasing from his family for that choice.

He moved away from that area of the shelves, because he wasn't going to get Danny any other superhero's symbol either, and continued on down to the abstract section. It was small and Kon was ready to rule it out until he saw it: a mostly black bag with a stylized set of stars on it. It was a little like Kon's own bag without actually matching in a way he could be teased about. It also felt very Danny somehow.

Kon grabbed the bag before he could over think it and went to finish up the rest of the list he'd been given since he was going out anyways.

Danny was already at the table, head buried into his crossed arms. The rest of their table was still empty. It made it easier to walk over and set the new lunch box down in front of Danny, close enough to bump his arms.

After a beat, Danny turned enough to peer at the bag with one shadowed eye. “What's that?"

“Your lunch,” Kon said with every bit of calmness he could muster. He sat down across from Danny and put his own bag on the table.

He'd drawn a new monster in the bottom right corner during math.

“My… lunch…,” Danny repeated slowly. “I… don't have a lunch?”

“Yes you do, it's right there.”

“What.”

“Lunch, you, there, eat.”

“You Kronk,” Danny replied instantly, as if on instinct. He blinked like he was rebooting. “I'm sorry, how do I have a lunch?”

“Because my dad packed you one.”

Danny slowly reached out to poke at the bag. “…right. Why did your dad pack me a lunch?”

Kon opened his own lunch and pulled out the PB&J sandwich and took a large bite. Unabashedly, he answered with his mouth full, “Because I asked him to.”

“Con…”

“Danny, it's fine. Just eat it, okay? Not, like, don't eat anything you don't like, but there won't be anything on your no list in it.”

“Oh.” Danny reached and pulled the lunch box closer. “I… thank you? And tell your dad thank you?”

“Sure, will do,” Kon said as if it was nothing and he wasn't hiding a smile by taking another bite.

Both of them were saved from having to say anything more by the rest of their friends (a loose word, sometimes) arriving at the table. There was some shock expressed at Danny actually having lunch, but mostly good natured teasing and some expressions of how glad they were to see it.

Kon shot Danny a little look during it, and got a blush and little eye roll back for it. It was reward enough for Kon. He was just glad to see Danny eating.

#dp x dc #Danny/kon #danny in metropolis

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c0s-lettuce · 2 months ago

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Hii if it’s okay, can I please request a Sergei x fem!reader where she was walking home and was in the wrong place at the wrong time and witnessed something bad guys were doing and was in danger, but she was saved by Sergei (the bad guys were on his list so he happened to show up). She meets Sergei again when the same bad guys come after her again because she had seen too much, and he saves her again. Because it seems that the bad guys will not stop going after her because of what she saw, Sergei brings her to his cabin to protect her until he has taken out all of the bad guys? He’s super protective of her and she’s really scared about everything that’s going on and feels safe with him, and after a while of staying with him, they both start to fall in love and she doesn’t want to leave even after everything is safe 🥹

guardian angel - sergei kravinoff x fem!reader

word count: 3317

warnings: descriptions of violence, mentions of blood

a/n: thank you for the request! sorry this took a while, i hope i did it justice 😭 happy holidays everyone!

A shortcut. That's all it was supposed to be - a quick detour down an alley. You've taken it a few times before, usually to escape the rain like tonight. It's a light sprinkle. One that might have been pleasant if it wasn't for the dark and your long day at work. Your walks home were, fortunately, mostly uneventful.

But not tonight. You'd blame it on bad luck. Or fate, if such a thing exists.

Unfriendly-sounding voices should have been your first clue to something being amiss. But curiosity drives you forward. Peering through the darkness, you see two figures surrounding a third person kneeling on the ground.

It seems like a confrontation of sorts, a heavily one-sided confrontation. They don't notice you, so you deem this a good moment to leave. You back away as quietly as possible. But as you approach the street, a black car pulls up, blocking the entrance.

The next few moments pass in a blur. There's a scream. A horrific squelching noise. You look back to see the third person now slumped on the ground. A silver glint in the hand of one of the other men. Two more men exit the car. There's shouting from one side, then both. You realise you've been noticed. You panic. Then, chaos.

You're unsure if you fell or were pushed, but you end up on the ground. You scramble away, and your back hits the wall of the alleyway. Bodies begin to go flying around you. Any attention that was paid to you is diverted. One man is in the middle of it all. He seems to know his way around killing, like a hunter.

Your front-row show is interrupted when you're dragged to your feet. A cold barrel is pressed against your temple. You freeze as you're held hostage. The hunter pauses and turns to you. Four bodies now lay dead, all killed in different ways. The man holding you is the only one left.

"Enough. Stop now, or the girl dies," the voice behind you speaks.

You notice that despite the man's intimidation, fear laces his tone. It's a mutual feeling as you stand silent and wide-eyed, afraid to move. The hunter raises his hands as if surrendering. You're not sure what to make of it.

But you don't get given the time to decide. In the blink of an eye, the hunter pulls out a knife, flicks it out and throws it towards your head. For a split second, you think it's all over. You squeeze your eyes shut. Either by bullet or blade, this is the end for you.

But then, the man's grip around you loosens, followed promptly by a dull thump. You turn around to see what happened. The man lies on the ground, a knife protruding from him square in the eye. Blood begins to pull around his head.

You bring your hands to your mouth and back away from the body. The sight is unlike anything you've seen. You're stuck between screaming, throwing up or passing out, but a voice from behind interrupts you.

"Are you hurt?" it asks, gruff and breathless.

You flinch at the sound. You turn back to look at the owner of the voice. The hunter stands before you, covered in the odd splatter of blood, hair and clothes mussed. You stare for a moment, bewildered.

Once you find your bearings, you reply, "Uh, no… no, I'm alright."

He nods, walking past you to retrieve his knife. The sound of the blade leaving the man's head makes you cringe.

"Sorry," he says, cleaning the knife on the man's clothes, "I would've warned you before I threw it, but that might have defeated the purpose."

You don't respond. Was that… a joke? What are you supposed to say to that?

In your silence, the hunter looks at you again. "You live around here?"

Again, it takes you a moment to answer. "Yeah, just a few blocks away."

"You should get home," he tells you, standing up. "Forget you saw anything."

You nod. That sounds like a good idea. A great idea, even. You force yourself to move, deciding on the regular route home instead of continuing this shortcut.

The hunter watches you pass but speaks up again before you get too far. "I'm sorry you had to see all that."

You pause, taking in his… somewhat considerate words. You glance back at him and mutter, "Thank you."

Once again, he nods, sighing as he looks down at the bodies. You turn away again and continue your way home. The journey passes in a haze, and you immediately go to bed once you arrive.

As days pass, that night feels like a fever dream. Details don't come to you, with everything being a messy blur in your head. It was probably a good thing. However, the only part that remains clear is the elusive hunter.

A tall, muscular frame. Wavy, brown hair. Bright, blue eyes.

You clear your head of these thoughts as you stand and pack up your things. You're the last person left in your work building today, having stayed late to finish some extra work.

Just as you're about to head downstairs, you hear a loud crash. It's followed by more sounds, a mix of grunts, thumps and things breaking. You look around but can't see anything from where you are.

You grow anxious and search your desk for a weapon. You settle on a large paperweight, gripping it firmly and sneaking out. You bypass the elevators and go to the emergency staircase, carefully opening the door and ensuring it's empty inside before slowly heading down.

The sounds have stopped once you reach the bottom. You poke your head out, giving an obscured view of the ground floor. As expected, it's a mess of broken glass and wood. Crimson paints the floor, blood coming from three bodies. There's one man left standing. You recognise him immediately. The hunter.

You let your guard down, lowering the paperweight in your hands. You step out and look around again, getting a better look at the damage. You feel bad for whoever has to pay for all this. You turn to the hunter. He's already looking at you.

"It's you," you say.

"It's me," he replies. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, completely fine. You?" you ask.

"I'm good," he says, looking around at the mess. "We should stop meeting like this."

You let out a small huff. "You're telling me. Who are these people?"

"They're part of a large criminal organisation. Their influence runs deep. They have people all over the continent."

"Criminal organisation…? Why are they here?"

"You saw them kill someone. You're a liability."

"They were here for me? But didn't you kill everyone who saw me?"

"They have eyes and ears everywhere. Must've found out some other way."

The thought unsettles you, and you sincerely hope you won't regularly be pursued by criminals. Suddenly, you miss the comfort of your home.

Then, the hunter speaks up. "I'm Sergei, by the way."

You're slightly caught off guard. But you tell him your name, and he repeats it with a nod.

"You should get going," he says. "The police will be here soon. I'll handle things here."

"Are you sure? This is my workplace."

"I'm sure. Go," he insists.

You acquiesce, collecting your things again. Before you leave, you and Sergei exchange contact details. He tells you to call him if anything happens. Once again, you find yourself walking away from the hunter and a pile of dead bodies he saved you from. But at least now you know his name.

You've been home for the past few days since the building became a crime scene. You gave the police a vague description of what happened, and they haven't bothered you since.

You think about the hunter, who you now know to be Sergei Kravinoff. A Google search and some light stalking didn't reveal much about the man. And with no work to do, you continue to lie around at home.

But one morning, you wake up to a phone call. It's Sergei.

"Hello?" you answer.

"Where are you right now?" he asks immediately.

"At home. Why?" you say.

"Hard to explain, but you're in danger. I'm going to send you a location. I need you to go there. I'll have someone meet you."

He hangs up before you can get another word in. Seconds later, he sends the location for a terminal at the airport. Despite the abruptness and absurdity, his words worry you, so you quickly pack a small bag and head to the airport.

A dark-haired woman greets you at the terminal. You board the small aircraft landed there as she takes the pilot seat. She answers a few of the many questions you have. Sergei has been in different parts of Europe to eliminate this criminal organisation. It seems you have not left the group's radar because they had your address. Afraid they're planning on tying up loose ends, Sergei asks you to go to his safe house in Russia.

Great, you think. This is a totally regular occurrence.

It's a long flight. After hours, you finally arrive, landing on a secluded airstrip surrounded by bush and mountains. Sergei waits for you outside, approaching the aircraft as the door opens.

"Thanks for trusting me," he speaks over the noise of the aircraft.

"Well, you've given me enough reason to," you tell him.

"I'm sorry it had to come to this," he says.

"Don't be," you reply.

He gives you a grateful nod as he gestures with his head. "Follow me."

He leads you away from the runway. The landscape turns forest-like as you walk along a trail. You look around at the surprisingly picturesque view despite the strange circumstances you're in.

"So, what is this place?" you ask.

"I live here most of the time," Sergei explains. "This property used to belong to my mother's family. It's pretty much all I have left of her now."

"Right," you reply. "And do you make a habit of bringing many women out here in the middle of nowhere?"

He shrugs. "Just the ones whose lives are threatened by criminals."

"…Is that a lot?" you ask.

Sergei smirks, leaving your question unanswered as he picks up the pace. "Come on, it's just ahead."

You watch him go ahead of you, letting out a huff at his non-answer as you try to catch up. After a small trek, Sergei leads you to his cabin. It's a pleasant spot, a geometric glass dome surrounded by shrubbery and nature. There's also a scenic body of water nearby. This place would do great on Airbnb, you think to yourself.

You spend your first evening getting settled in. Sergei tells you he's heading to Romania, so you'll have the cabin all to yourself. He makes sure you have everything you need before leaving. He also advises you not to wander far while he's gone, telling you there are leopards, tigers and bears in the area. Well, there goes your Airbnb pitch.

Later that night, you climb to the loft and get into bed. A stranger's bed. A stranger who has saved your life multiple times, but a stranger nonetheless. It's almost dead silent at night, nothing like back home. The rustle of leaves in the wind and the quiet chirping of insects act as your lullaby.

The glass gives you a perfect view of the starry sky as you lie back. With no light pollution, the sight is nothing to scoff at. And after everything that has happened in the last few days, it doesn't take much longer for you to find respite in sleep.

Sergei calls to check in with you from Transylvania on the second day, asking how you're doing and updating you on the situation. He tells you he's on the home stretch, and it'll all be over once the last few people are weeded out. He stays on the call for just a moment longer to tell you a joke about vampires.

Once he hangs up, it doesn't take long for you to become incredibly bored. You do what you can to entertain yourself. You take pictures of the scenery, snack on whatever is available, take naps, and discreetly poke around through Sergei's belongings.

By day three, there was nothing left to snoop. You've looked at everything, from the fridge to the bathroom cabinet. And more absurdly, from the alchemy station to the weapons collection. Sergei doesn't keep many things around, so there wasn't much you could learn from your nosiness.

You wake to a text on the fourth morning. Sergei tells you the job is finished. He's already on his way to the cabin. You let out a breath at the message. It's done. You're safe.

You look around at the space you've called home for the past few days. A strange feeling claws at the back of your mind. A sense of disappointment. At what, you can't yet place. So, to distract yourself, you spend the day tidying. Closer to the evening, you make dinner to the best of your ability with what's available.

Sergei returns and is greeted with the delicious aroma of your food. The smell is foreign to his cabin, foreign to him. You welcome him back, doing a quick once over. He's weary and battered but otherwise seems to be in good shape. And he's incredibly grateful for the food. It's almost amusing watching him eat, like a cat with a bowl of wet food.

After dinner, he's too tired to do anything or talk about what happens next, so you call it a night. You feel bad making him sleep on the couch. You tell him you don't mind him taking the bed. He agrees as long as you stay as well. Neither one of you bother to argue after that.

He passes out quite quickly, sleeping on his stomach with his head facing away from you. You lie on your side next to him, staring at the back of his head. Spending days doing nothing has made it so you're not all that tired. So, you lie in silence, a million thoughts running through your head.

Now that the situation is handled, Sergei will probably send you packing in the morning. That should be a good thing. You can get back to your home, your friends, your job. No criminals after your head, no fearing for your life. So, why is part of you reluctant to go?

You're pulled from your thoughts when Sergei stirs, yawning as he turns onto his back. He settles back down, and you think he's fallen asleep again until he turns his head towards you.

You meet his gaze, and for a moment, you're unsure what to do. You think about pretending you usually sleep with your eyes open to make up for the staring.

But all that proves unnecessary when he smiles and asks, "You okay?"

"Yeah," you reply. "Just not that tired."

Sergei nods, also turning on his side to face you. "I'm sorry you got caught up in all this."

"No, don't be," you say. "None of it was your fault."

"Still, I know it wasn't ideal, having to deal with something like this. And having to deal with me," he says.

"Dying wouldn't have been ideal," you tell him. "And I've been hiding out here the whole time, doing nothing. If anything, you're like my guardian angel."

He laughs, "That's one way to put it."

You smile back, and the two of you fall into a moment of silence.

"Thanks for looking after the place, by the way," he says.

"What? You mean leeching off of you for four days?" you reply.

He lets out an amused scoff. "I mean for cleaning up and making dinner. Especially the dinner part."

You nod. "It's the least I could do."

"I don't think I've had a proper home-cooked meal in years," he says. "The last time must have been when I still lived with my mother."

You pause for a moment, taking in the information. "No other cooks in the family?"

"No, my father never cooked," he replies. "He would make some poor, overworked chef do it."

You hum in response. "So, you've got low standards? That's a good thing for me then."

Sergei chuckles, appreciating your comment. The two of you stay awake for a while longer. Sergei tells you more about his childhood, his family, the accident that changed him, and his life after he left to be on his own. You also tell him about your past, which paled in comparison to his, but he seemed to appreciate it regardless.

His hand wanders under the sheets as the two of you talk, coming to rest on your waist. His thumb idly strokes your side. He listens to you intently and laughs at any funny parts you share. As his touch grows bolder, he pulls you closer, moving his arm to wrap around you.

You happily accept his embrace. Soon, the warmth of being in his arms and the comforting sound of his voice lull you to sleep. Sergei watches as you drift off. Out like a light. Adorable.

His mind thinks back to the first night you met. He remembers how scared you were, how you looked at him when your life hung in the balance. He felt sorry for you, a poor woman caught up in a mess that wasn't hers.

Sergei doesn't know why you trusted him so quickly, but he's glad you did. He's glad that you're here now with him. He's glad for it all. He realises then how nice it is to have someone to come home to. Someone who cares. Someone he can talk to other than his pilot or his brother.

He wonders what you think. He hopes you feel something similar. You must, right? Though there's a very good chance you think he's a lunatic, and you've just been humouring him. But he tells himself not to overthink, closing his eyes and holding you a little tighter as he waits for sleep.

When you wake in the morning, Sergei is already up, preparing a simple breakfast for the two of you. You eat together, engaging in light conversation. Despite your unspoken reluctance to leave, you know you must return to your life sooner or later.

He helps you pack up after breakfast, and you head to the airstrip. Sergei's pilot picks you both up, and you sleep most of the way back on the aircraft. After a smooth ride, you finally make it back home.

Sergei goes with you all the way back to your place. You open the front door and take a look around. Everything is how you left it, thankfully. Getting back to see your home trashed would have really soured your mood. You step in, place your bag down and let out a sigh. You're ready to continue sleeping, but your stomach rumbling redirects your priority.

Sergei leans against the door frame, watching you. He must have heard the evidence of your hunger because he chuckles. You turn to send him a glare, but he speaks up first.

"If you're up for it, I know a place. Good food, great music," Sergei says.

"Really? I thought you'd be happy to finally get rid of me," you reply.

Sergei snorts, shaking his head. "Quite the opposite, actually. I haven't actually gotten to spend that much time with you."

You're tempted, very tempted. But you pretend not to be. "As long as it's not in the middle of nowhere in a foreign country."

He laughs. "It's not. It's a normal restaurant. I promise."

You let out a sigh, feigning exasperation. "Alright, I trust you."

Sergei grins, pushing himself off the door frame. "Great, let's go."

➸

#sergei kravinoff #sergei kravinoff x reader #kraven the hunter #kraven the hunter x reader #kraven #kraven x reader #kraven movie #marvel #marvel x reader #aaron taylor johnson #atj

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mellowwillowy · 11 months ago

Text

TWST x Self-aware Yan Cannibal AU Ft: Unhinged GN Reader

𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐛𝐲𝐮𝐥

Unbirthday party has always been a merry occasion for 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐛𝐲𝐮𝐥. Not only does he get to eat the strawberry tarts, but he also gets to have Trey's meat pie specialty.

Pigs who dared to enrage the tyrant by upsetting you, the law, are sent to the kitchen for the butcher and baker to process into something edible.

The card soldiers cheer in joy and anxiety, pleased to be able to taste the main course yet sweating over the idea of screwing up and ending up on the silver platter.

Yet part of them does not really mind if it's meant that they will be devoured by you, the law, their grace. Ace and Deuce have always irked Riddle but the sight of you smiling along with their pranks and mischiefs save them from the trouble they are about to face.

Cater will always upload it on magicam, boasting the sight of you enjoying your stay in 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐛𝐲𝐮𝐥 as you nibble on the tart. Baked and minced to your favorite, as usual. Trey and Cater sure know their way around this, memorizing how you like it by heart.

"Looks like you two are having a hard time cleaning the guillotine huh?" You stopped in front of the guillotine, watching the other students along with the ADeuce duo wiping the blade that had severed yet another pig for you to feast on soon.

"Uh yeah, troublesome as always, I hate having this bloody mess all over my hands." Deuce furrowed his eyebrows, waving his hands for you to see. Ace immediately elbowed Deuce, "Dude, you are splattering the blood all over me!"

You chuckled at the duo before turning back your focus on Riddle and his chaperones, "I assure you, those blood does taste good too if you know your way around it."

Trey and Cater raised their eyebrows and glanced at each other, seemingly knowing what they would present for you at the next Unbirthday party.

"Is that so? Then I'll make sure to have your Grace have a taste of it at our next tea party."

𝐒𝐚𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐰

It's only natural to see the beasts ripping the guts out of the prey with their bare fangs. 𝐒𝐚𝐯𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐰 surely offers an entirely different vibe when it comes to banquets.

Until Leona signals them, the beasts are nothing but starving predators, ready to shred the prey into minced meat. But Leona is nothing but a calm and obedient beast when it comes to you, eagerly waiting for you to give him the accord.

One tilt of your head and a nod is all it takes for Leona to snap his fingers, the chosen beasts leaping toward the prey eagerly as their claws and fangs tore them apart.

Jack was the fiercest among the others, even more than his seniors. For someone who held an upright moral integrity, he had it revolved around you and all sense of justice had been laid onto the tip of your tongue.

Ruggie on the other hand only watched in amusement next to Leona, waiting for the next batch of captured prey to be feasted by him. He would not cut line and steal a bite of what's not given to him from you, oh nooo, he was a patient hyena.

Leona cocked his head to you, eyes focused on you while waiting for you to lock your eyes with his, "Should I grab one for you to eat too, your Grace?"

𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞

Mostro Lounge has always offered the best dining experience. It is not to be doubted again that 𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐞 is most definitely going to serve you the finest meal, personally handled and cooked by the Tweels.

And of course, those who fail to fulfill the terms of Azul's contract have to feel how the merfolks gut them, spilling their whole innards all over as they choose which part is considered the most delectable for you.

From the sophisticated look of the beverage, tinted dark red yet a hue of purple could be seen, giving it a pleasingly aesthetic look for you to fawn over before you drink it down.

On the silver platter was a heart, decorated with things you had no idea about but you had seen back in your world. Fancy diners always do that, you thought to yourself.

"Only the best part for your Grace." Jade bowed down as he adjusted the plate and utensils. Floyd was grinning from ear to ear as he dusted the sugar cube into your drink, "And something refreshingly sweet for ya' highness!"

You gave them a curt nod before slicing it, Floyd kneeling down next to you while his face rested on your chair's armrest, eyes glimmering in excitement as he waited for your feedback. Jade might not show it in his face but even you could notice how his feet tapped against the carpeted tile, something you'd never see from someone who could stand still for hours without moving like an inanimate object.

You gave them an approving nod and smile as you took a sip from the drink Floyd personally went over length to make for you, "Satisfactory as usual."

A pair of hands clasped on your shoulders from behind, Azul cooed right into your ear "But your Grace, surely it can go beyond that no? We'll make sure of that the next time you choose to feast here."

𝐒𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐚

Banquet has always been something that is always happening due to Kalim's nature and Jamil has never really found any joy from it.

But all that changes if the banquet is thrown for you. Oh, how the viper ensures himself to go beyond length in preparing the dishes. With Kalim's endless riches, he can use all sorts of ingredients one would never be able to obtain without spending a fortune for their rarity. Only the freshest and best ingredients are allowed to be used for your meal and so are the living meat of the students.

Everything must be set to a T. Kalim may not be a tyrant but when it comes to you? He's unconsciously pointing his fingers and brows scrunched at anything that is not abided by perfection. The lamps are not hung at the right angle, the pillows have not been changed into new pillows and the animals must be paraded in order and not roam like wild beasts. Anyone who just ever makes the slightest mistake will be sent straight to the kitchen as an ingredient. Had it not been for Jamil's suggestion to send them all bruiseless, they would have been beaten until they were nothing but pulp.

You were taking in the sight of the parade, everything was as amusing as you had always remembered. But the true highlight lay in Jamil's cooking, if you have to pinpoint the best cook in this twisted wonderland then it had to be Jamil. Unlike the finery of Mostro Longue, Jamil's cooking had a different feel to it. It was not as aesthetic yet it did not change the fact that it still looked pleasantly delicious. If Mostro Lounge accounted for the positioning of the food in a numerical and angle way, Jamil offered everything in a neat bulk. Curry, prata, shawarma, and all. Its display screamed for people to grab one yet no one dared to unless you ordered them to do so.

You cocked your head toward Kalim who was sitting right next to you, eyes glimmering in adoration as he drunk in your expression. Oh, would you finally like to have a bite? He held one of the shawarma out toward you with an empty plate in his other hand.

Jamil had ensured that there were 2 different platters, one for you which was made from the best ingredients and seasonings, while the other was less if compared to yours but still delicious nonetheless. One was made from meat and blood that had been considered the best while the other was made from those that failed to pass through the requirements.

You took a bite from his hand, savoring the taste of Jamil's hard work while enjoying the show of Kalim's tyranny. Truly, you love being able to taint your beloved sunshine.

"Say say, are you enjoying it all, your Grace? Not even a beat of music missed and all the food that sprawled across the room is ensured to be of the best quality." Kalim brought a goblet onto you and you held it in your hand. He gave you another grin that was just as blinding as the sun, his finger beckoned Jamil to pour you the carmine drink, squeezed from their cries of agony and pain before they were minced.

"But of course, your Grace has no need to hesitate to point something out if it's not to your liking," Jamil chimed in as he watched you swirl your goblet. The two of them stared right into your eyes, eyes enchanted by you despite one being an enchanter, "Because we seek only perfection for your Grace's taste."

𝐏𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐨𝐫𝐞

𝐏𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐨𝐫𝐞 prides themselves in their pitch-perfect diet. So what if their Grace has a different taste in the feast? All they have to do is readjust and tailor the whole dorm's diet to yours.

The fairest one of all, wearing a tiara that shines even brighter than any tiaras Vil has ever seen, truly living up to the radiance you emit just from sitting on the very throne with him standing right next to you.

It appeared that preparing a banquet was a huge feat for 𝐏𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐨𝐫𝐞 as they were divided into 2 teams. Team One prepared the whole occasion while Team Two flocked toward you, amusing you with a theatric show as you watched them from your throne.

It appeared that Rook's fascination with the world of theatrics and you worked really well as he 'acted' out the role of a lover professing his love toward the protagonist really well. Strings of bizarre praises and wishes rolled from the tip of his tongue smoothly as though it was by nature for him to act so already.

Epel on the other hand was all energized to drag the qualified livestock into the kitchen after Vil had inspected them all personally. The livestock was to be of a healthy diet, bruiseless and ailment-free before it was allowed to be cooked and feasted by the Grace.

The moment Rook was notified that the whole banquet was ready, a trumpet was blown and you were led to the dining hall which had been decorated to match your attire. Were you wearing something cute, pure, sexy, cool, or pop? Either way, 𝐏𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐨𝐫𝐞 never missed a beat in losing its elegance no matter what the theme was.

"Allow me," Rook pulled the chair for you to sit on before he readjusted the platter asymmetrically. Right next to your seat on the right was Vil sitting while the rest of the body stood, not daring to sit unless you allowed them to.

Seeing Epel all giddy observing you, you beckoned him to come to you and he whispered into your ear, "I seasoned it!"

You cocked a questioning eyebrow toward Vil and he could only sigh with a chuckle, "Oh what will I do with your Grace's taste bud?"

Rook poured a carmine red fluid into your glass, its smell told you that it was not made just from a fine wine but rather, a fine blood.

"A fine cocktail of white wine, dyed with a carmine golden drop, hand-picked and squeezed personally by me. Truly, your favorite, your Grace."

𝐈𝐠𝐧𝐢𝐡𝐲𝐝𝐞

Honestly, what do you even expect from all these anti-socials? They are nothing but a bunch of hikikomori yet the Shroud Brothers just know how to surprise you!

Unlike the impractical methods that the others use to earn just a golden drop of blood from the livestock, the dorm has created countless practical devices that help them to create something quickly.

Compressors that grind down the gutless livestock into a fine drink. Shredders that allow them to save time from having to shred from chunk by chunk. And a practical inspection device that helps Idia sort out the best for you to feast on.

Ortho had to be the most eager one of all, singing non-stop as he ensured all were to be finished quickly when you informed him that you would be choosing 𝐈𝐠𝐧𝐢𝐡𝐲𝐝𝐞 for your next banquet.

They specialized in efficiency and speed but that did not mean they lacked the skill of cooking a delicious dish. While it may be pale when compared to other dorms, 𝐈𝐠𝐧𝐢𝐡𝐲𝐝𝐞 is a great option for when you are craving for something and want it to be on your plate in a short moment. They might not score 12/10 but they were able to at the very least score 8/10. Surprised much? Ortho had been practicing how to cook and all from the data Idia inputted into him.

"Uurgh.. uhh... y-your Grace... so what is the verdict? A level up? Or an increase in the ranking board? O-Ortho is really expecting your answer..."

You raised your eyebrows at his stuttering, "Getting better," you stopped for a moment to chew again, "and delicious."

Ortho immediately leaped toward you from Idia's back, causing him to squeak, his metal arms wrapped around your neck, "I'm glad! Please keep on coming here and I'll make sure to be the best cook you'll ever have!"

Idia brought a napkin over to your face, "Yes... should your Grace ever need for a quick meal, please come by... Me and Ortho... and Ortho... will always be ready at your disposal."

But who were you but the all-knowing God, you knew there was a slight taint of blot in your meal, Ortho, you assumed.

𝐃𝐢𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐧𝐢𝐚

Lilia has to stay away from the kitchen. But don't worry, the bat is entrusted with hunting down livestock for the youngsters to process into something edible.

Malleus on the other hand is ready to strike anyone down with lightning should they make the slightest mistake in the banquet preparation.

Sebek is in charge of inspecting the livestock while Silver is in charge of the most gruesome part of the job (which was appointed by you for fun.) which is gutting. Surely tainting someone so pure like him has to be your favorite feast.

The candles on the table were all lit in emerald hue, fireflies surrounded you as Lilia levitated around you, joyously guiding you toward the dining table.

There you could see Malleus sitting on the second host seat, his hand prompts you to take a seat across from him. Lilia pulled the chair for you to sit before Silver walked out of nowhere, holding a plate of dishes for you to feast on.

Sebek on the other hand had been arranged to stand right next to Malleus, part of him was happy yet part of him envied Silver. Nonetheless, no barks had ever slipped past through his sealed lip.

"Kukuku, the boys went through great details and length in preparing this whole banquet, well, me included. It was fun hunting down these livestock for you," His index finger felt your platter, "it makes me feel like I must pick the ripest for you... feeding you... aa~"

Soon, he brought a forkful of meat sliced by SIlver earlier while you were distracted by Lilia. Malleus smiled at your dazed-out face and the way realization washed over you.

"May your Grace enjoy the blessing that you have graced us tonight." Malleus raised his goblet, urging you to do just the same.

"Cheers!" Lilia wiped your mouth with the napkin, Silver's hand holding out your filled goblet.

𝐃𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐂𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐞𝐲 ???

"My words! Did you have fun, hm?" Crowley immediately lunged toward you the moment you entered his office. He gave you the cutest pout you could ever see from him, his cheek rubbed against yours repeatedly.

"Are you jealous, Dire?"

"Of course not! How can someone as magnanimous as I, be jealous of my own fledglings?" And as though to prove to you his seriousness, he even posed ridiculously with his staff.

You cackled at him before giving him a kiss on his cheek, "I'm home, Dire."

Crowley stopped acting up and turned serene, giving you a smile that didn't seem to reach his eyes.

"Welcome home, Master. Dinner's ready as usual."

Oh old times... ???

1K notes · View notes

baka-bakeneko · 2 months ago

Text

The Boys are Mine - Wade Wilson [Deadpool] x Logan Howlett [Wolverine] x Fem! Reader

tags: NSFW, no seriously NSFW, MINORS DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT, deadpool and wolverine are friendly, deadpool and wolverine enemies to lovers, movie accurate Logan Howlett attitude, possible throuple vibes, service dom Logan Howlett, submissive Wade Wilson, oral, voyeurism [honda odyssey fucks hard], consensual non consent, blood eating, can we call it knifeplay [?], edging, c*ck appreciation, an*l fingering, inappropes an*l training psa [but like also, neh], wrap it before you tap it psa, double penetration, double cre*mpie, slight aftercare

wc: 4.7k

synopsis: You, Wade and Logan go out to karaoke night to bond further.

a/n: the way logan acts in d&w actually gives me brain scratches, so let's hope i did that logan justice. wade...i've muted you baby

"Did they have Brandy and Monica in your universe?" Wade asked, handing over the spare microphone to Logan.

Somehow, Wade had convinced Logan to join your karaoke night. You were sure it was because the drinks were half-priced, and from how your table looked so far, they were stacking up.

Logan snatched the mic from Wade's hand, beer in his other as he propped himself up from the silver streamer wall.

"Just play the damn song," he grunted, one of the two ways he spoke.

Taking another long swig of his beer, he handed off the glass to you as the intro began.

"Don't worry, I'll be Brandy. Keep up, hot stuff," Wade said before speaking the first line of the song, flipping his imaginary hair.

Logan confusedly stared at the screen, reading off his lines tonelessly. You snickered, taking a sip of Logan's beer before waving your hand at the walking waitress.

"Another round of beer, please," you said when she approached the table, helping her clear your wobbly table. "And I'll take an order of those nachos, too."

The waitress nodded, lifting her full tray of bottles and sidling away. Returning your attention to the boys, you saw Logan's eyes follow the young woman's hips on her way to the bar.

You followed his stare, wanting to ogle too. When you turned back to the boys, Wade and Logan were both looking at you.

"Think it's time we got this straight, sit and talk face to face," Wade and Logan sang, their tones a cacophony of grit.

You laughed at them, mostly Logan as he fumbled through singing without actually singing. Of course Wade tunelessly carried the two of them. Looking between them, you were thoroughly entertained by them.

With another round of beers arriving at your table, thanks to Logan's eye candy, you happily finished off the bottle you were handed and set it down.

Picking up another, you looked back to the boys as they were now standing closer to each other; they were a few seconds from teasingly singing 'not yours, but mine' and actively arguing over a boy they were not sharing.

You reached to grab Logan's wrist, handing over your opened beer for him to be coaxed. He grunted into the mic, pulling his mouth away to take a deep swig while winking at you.

You straightened in your seat, crossing your legs before pulling your skirt to full length. With a cheer, the boys left the stage and Logan dropped his microphone to the floor.

A whine in microphone made everyone in the bar cringe in the direction of the stage; Logan slid next to you, bumping his knee at the table to make it wobble. His arm circled around your shoulders, pulling you into his side.

His free hand, calloused and hairy wedged between your thighs and kneaded at your leg; you sucked in a sharp breath, one that sounded squeaky as it went down.

Wade raised his lack of eyebrows, popping open his beer cap before taking a drink. "Jeez, let me get comfortable before the show."

Logan growled, sneered, over at Wade before sliding his hand further up your leg; his fingers padded at the sensitive skin previously tucked under your skirt.

"You're not invited," the grizzled man bit back at Wade before leaning in to kiss your neck.

You hummed, your eyes rolling at the invitation of Logan's stubble brushing against your skin. Still, your legs remained clamped even though Logan's thumb began to tease at the front of your panties.

You breathed out, tilting your head away from Logan's wet lips as they migrated down to lick the meet of your shoulder.

Wade cleared his throat and you snapped your eyes open to look at him. You paused, meeting Wade's gaze. His eyes raked over your body, stopping at Logan's hand wedged under your skirt.

"Wolvie's on the prowl, huh?" Wade smirked, taking a sip of his beer. "You're just caught in a little bear trap, eh Logan?"

Logan snarled off of your shoulder, his teeth bared against your skin. "Shut up."

You giggled at Logan's warm breath against you, his thumb carefully peeling your panties aside to let his fingers tempt your clit. Just as he was close to doing so, the waitress returned and you uncrossed your legs to slide Logan's hand out of your skirt.

The waitress smiled, blissfully unaware of your predicament, and asked if the table wanted anything else. Wade sat back in his chair, casually throwing his arm over the back of it.

"Do you know how to make Pink Panties?" Wade asked innocently, grinning up at her.

You widened your eyes at him with Logan's growl erupting from beside you.

"Wade, leave the nice girl alone," you said, meeting his delighted stare again. "I think we'll take the check."

The waitress nodded and flashed a polite grin, then left the table. You turned your glare to chastising just as Logan curled his arm lower around your waist.

Wade's smile slowly fell, offering a nervous huff at you. "Does this mean I'm uninvited?"

You hid a roll of your eyes, glancing over to Logan who was returning his lips to your neck. "I'd uninvite him."

"You say that every time," you teased, hiding a whine when Logan hit a soft spot. "But you still eat him up."

"And I appreciate the enthusiasm." Wade smirked over at Logan, now ignoring Wade as his hand returned between your legs.

You sat back with a deep sigh, allowing Logan's rough hand to run up your thigh again. "Your invitation is golden, Wade."

Logan gruffed against your shoulder, biting tenderly at your skin before looking at the man across the table. "Whatever she says, goes."

"Score," Wade muttered, taking a final sip of his beer. "One last song for the road?"

You sat in the middle seat of the Odyssey, your face in Logan's hands as Wade sat patiently beside you. Even with Logan's lips at your ear, trailing down with soft wisps of his breath against your skin, you were distracted with Wade's equally calloused palm rubbing at your inside thigh to pry them open.

You were selfish in that instant, the conduit for both men to express their frustrated tension with one another. Tilting your chin in Logan's direction, your hand went for Wade's wrist and guided him further to touch you.

Though you felt the leader of this tryst, you both paused at Logan's growl. He parted from your neck, glancing over to Wade's hand managing up your skirt like he had in the bar.

Leaning into your ear, Logan grinned with a specific grit that metered his dominant cruelty.

"Did I say he could touch your pussy?"

You froze, a warmth cracking from the middle of your stomach as your pussy clenched in response. Logan's gruff voice was perfect for commands, even without raising his voice.

"Aww, come on Logan, it's not that ser-" Wade started but Logan forced your knees shut with his hand.

He cut his glare from you to stare at Wade, who effectively shut up and licked his lips. Looking back at you, Logan ran a careful finger down your jaw then across your collarbone.

You patiently waited, holding your attention to his emboldened gaze. His smirk remained, his hand finding its way into your shirt and kneading at your breast.

"You know to ask permission," he said to you, then Wade. "Before you start playing together."

You exhaled shakily, your mouth opened and awaiting his next kiss. Logan teased at you, his top lip brushing against yours before pulling away.

He watched you trail after him wantonly, his own stomach flipping in delight.

"Please," you whispered, eyes half-drawn to stare at your boyfriend.

"Please what?" He repeated as Wade leaned after you to peck your neck.

"Please," you started again, looking to Wade resting his chin on your shoulder.

"Can I play with her pussy?" Wade asked, the words salacious and polite at once.

Logan bit into his growing smile, raking your body and taking in Wade peeling your skirt up to reveal your underwear. He stiffened, looking back to the two of you before hatching an idea.

"Come here, sweetheart," Logan ordered gently, pulling you into the backseat just in front of him.

The two of you shared the seat, your butt backed between Logan's legs as he implied you rested against him. He caught your jaw in his hand and kissed you again, his free hand spreading your legs apart as your skirt was wedged up your waist.

"Wade," he barked softly, his fingers hooking at the front of your panties and pulling them harshly against your clit. "Come taste."

Wade's eyes widened eagerly as your chest heaved in anticipation.

Logan chuckled down at you, his mouth before your nose as he spat out: "Pitiful."

Logan threaded your panties down and back up your pussy, his knuckle sliding against you as you grew wetter. Wade laid himself out over the reclined middle seat, pulling himself between your legs to marvel at the sight.

He looked up at you, his eyes barely cutting to look at Logan. Wade offered a timid stripe to your clothed pussy, barely lining your lips but drawing out a mew from you.

You tilted your head back against Logan's shoulder, your hips rolling against him. Logan pressed his grit teeth to your ear.

"Look at Wade and tell him to eat it," he ordered, prompting you to pull your head up and look at him.

His eyes were dark with a new sense of want; Logan yanked at your panties, tugging them off of your hips before offering them to Wade.

"Pull them off of her, easy." Logan said, his gaze softening at Wade.

Wade, surprisingly mute, did as he was told tugging them off of your legs with his teeth. You whined, wanting to do Logan a service.

Turning to meet Wade's eyes, you were egged on by his stare. One of an eager man ready to please. You gulped, spreading your legs a bit further to allow Wade a better view at your pussy.

"Eat my pussy, Wade," you managed with minimal whining.

Wade exhaled dreamliy. "Yes ma'am. Sir."

He raised his brows to Logan then carefully found his way back to your pussy; he licked again, drawing your wet up to your clit before suckling carefully. You drew a knee up, ready to back him off your sensitive nub, but Logan caught your leg, opening you even further and making you more vulnerable.

After he was done suckling, Wade moved down to slurp in your juices, nosing into you before slipping his tongue into you. You melted against Logan, crying out as your boyfriend held your legs.

"Is he doing a good job?" Logan asked, his tone snarky almost.

"Yes," you gasped, eyes rolling back as Wade continued.

"Why not tell him?" he continued, taking soft grip of your chin to pull you up again.

He directed you to look down at Wade, the bottom of his face smushed into your pussy. Looking up at you, you moaned outwardly then fought against Logan's hold to tilt your head back.

Your noises echoed through the Odyssey, your panting drawing up the heat in the cabin. When you regained a bit of yourself, you met Wade's eyes again.

"Tell him how damn good he is," Logan grit, hissing behind your ear. "Tell him how close you are to coming, baby."

"You're so damn good, Wade. I'm so close." Your eyes fluttered, gaining your voice in a pinch.

You felt Wade chuckle against you, his hand reaching out to rub at your calf. You broke down again, meeting Logan's sultry gaze.

He breathed in your pants, opening his mouth to tempt his tongue into your mouth. You moaned into him as his hand undid your shirt, leaving you open.

Logan reached for your nipples as he kissed you, pinching harshly at you before soothing them with soft touches of his fingers. You were effectively coaxed by his touches, whining further into Logan's mouth.

When he pulled away, you were shocked again by Wade's sucking on your clit.

"Logan," you mewled, close to coming while staring at your boyfriend.

"I'm not doing it," Logan teased, biting at your bottom lip. "Praise Wade like the good boy he is."

Wade moaned at that, which you both acknowledged. You praised Wade while Logan reached to pet at the man's head, taking in a sharp breath.

"That's right, you're a good boy. Make her fucking cum, I know you can," Logan said, his tone giving way to his excitement. "Get her ready for me, get her wetter."

You broke with another moan, your body tightening while keeping Wade's eyes. You piqued, gasping while your pussy contracted on Wade's warm tongue.

Logan ran his hand down your chest, taking a moment to knead at your breast while he soaked in your writhing. He bit at your ear, watching you ride into Wade's tongue.

"Don't stop, Wade. I want her crying," Logan snarled, one hand clamping over your mouth to mute your moans.

You scrambled softly, ready to shut your legs around Wade's head; Wade followed Logan's lead, continuing as you panted and whined, cried and moaned into Logan's hand.

That was until Logan barked for Wade to stop. He sat back with a deep exhale, he licked at his raw lips to clean up your juices. Logan released your mouth, leaving you to catch your breath against his shoulder.

"Come here," Logan coaxed to Wade.

Wade kneeled between your splayed legs, leaning over you to Logan. Without warning, Logan extended his claws into Wade's jaw, allowing blood to seep from his open mouth due to his pierced tongue.

He grit, leaning in to slurp the bright crimson from Wade's lips along with your tart wet. Wade moaned, tempting his tongue out for a kiss though Logan was occupied with licking him clean.

Wade's blood dripped onto your thigh, with Logan taking charge to kiss Wade. He couldn't disguise his growl, still drinking in Wade's red before biting at his bottom lip.

"You want her to return the favor for doing such a good job?" Logan asked, his tone coaxing once again. He licked at Wade's bottom lip, then his jaw before timidly kissing at Wade's ear.

Wade moaned as Logan retracted his claws from his jaw, leaning into the man's voice.

"Yes please," Wade said, surprisingly obedient in the moment.

Logan chuckled darkly, pulling away from Wade; he playfully smacked Wade's burnt cheek.

"Aren't you a little bitch?" Logan snarked, his nose crinkling jokingly.

"Logan," you warned, sitting up slightly.

"He knows I'm kidding, baby. Ain't that right, bub?" Logan asked, leaning in to tease Wade with another kiss.

"Uh-huh," Wade agreed blindly, staring at Logan's lips.

"You heard him." Logan said, edging you off of his shoulder. "Why don't you return the favor?"

You switched with Wade, leaving Logan to drive the "bang bus" back to the apartment. From the front seat, Logan directed both of you with snarls and hard glances at the rear view mirror.

"Don't you dare cum yet, Wade," Logan bit out at a red light.

Just as you swirled your tongue around Wade's tip, his precum mixing with your saliva.

He whimpered, his hands tightening to fists over the back of the seat. Logan glanced back at you two, catching a peek of your bare pussy while you draped over Wade's waist.

"Do that thing with your tongue, babe. That thing that drives him crazy." He orchestrated, wringing his hands on the steering wheel before tapping the gas.

"N-no, no, no," Wade pleaded, hissing at your mouth sinking down at him again.

You did as you were told, looking up at Wade as you reversed on his cock and licked heavily at his slit. Wade groaned, rolling his head against his shoulders to pace himself.

"Don't hold back. Keep him edging," Logan grit, changing lanes with another glance back at you. "God, I can't wait to fuck that needy pussy."

You tensed then extended your back, giving Logan more of a show while teasing Wade.

"How you doing, bub?" Logan asked, grinning darkly.

"Hanging by a thread here. I'm gonna explode inside her mouth." Wade said, tightening his fists to not force your head on his cock.

"Oh, you don't wanna do that. Right baby?" Logan ridiculed with a smack of his teeth. "You want him to cum in your ass, don't you?"

You hummed in agreement, pulling off of Wade's cock to grin at him. "I want you both to stuff me."

Wade's eyes widened in concern, his lack of brows knitting together. "That's really hot, it is, but I'm gonna bust if you keep sucking."

Glancing over to Logan in the rearview, Wade felt a chill run down his back.

"Keep sucking, baby. Show some restraint, Wade."

You hummed as Wade groaned, awaiting release.

As you opened the front door to Logan's apartment, Logan kissed Wade's temple.

"Be happy, good boy. You made it home," Logan teased, spanking Wade's ass. "And without a mess."

Logan moved past him to you, giving you a spank as well. "You on the other hand..."

You trilled, walking in with Logan following eagerly. Meanwhile Wade trailed behind, practically run down. Logan scooped you up over his shoulder, carrying you to the bedroom with Wade following.

"Don't be so glum, Wade. You're such a good boy," you said sweetly, holding your chin in your hand. "I know you can last all night."

"You might be giving him too much credit. Especially between your pussy and mouth." Logan looked behind him at Wade, noticing him holding his rock-hard cock through his jeans. "We'll see how he lasts with that tight ass of yours."

Logan grabbed a handful of your ass, kneaded at the plushy feel of it before edging his finger to your pussy. You were enlivened by Logan's touch, straightening your back to allow him further.

"You wanna go first since you're gonna pout?" Logan asked, pushing open the bedroom door and casually tossing you onto the bed. "Honey, roll onto your stomach and give Wade what he wants."

"I'm not pouting," Wade said, releasing his cock and holding a hand out at you, holding you in place. "I just...god, I'm gonna fucking explode."

Logan chuckled, grabbing onto the front of Wade's shirt to pull him close. "And you think I'm not? I've been watching you two have all the fun, when's my fucking turn?"

Wade snarled softly at Logan. "Really? I'm surprised you're not getting off by bossing us around. Fuck toys to get you off your ego."

You sat up on your elbows, staring at the two men sneering at one another.

"Oh yeah?" Logan taunted, undoing his pants to reveal his cock fully at attention. His tip was leaking precum, his shaft strained with veins. "Getting off my ego huh? I'm gonna bust as soon as I fuck our girl."

You bit your lip, shifting your knees apart while they kept arguing.

Wade offered to undo his pants as well, participating in the dick measuring contest. His cock looked similar to Logan's, though more decorated with hardened burns revealing muscle. His tip was reddened from over-stimulation, twitching while trying to withhold his latent release.

"You think I won't? I'm gonna cum as soon as I hit the bed." Wade offered.

You tilted your head at the two of them, waiting for one of them to pounce on the other. You were the final act, but they were the mid-climax.

Wade leaned in to touch Logan's cock, earning his growling hiss. "Fuck, your cock is huge."

"Why don't you suck it?" you joked peeling off your shirt before unzipping your skirt.

"I don't think I can get my mouth around it," Wade said, taking a timid stroke of Logan's cock. "You have my praises."

You raised a brow at him, sitting up fully to watch your men play with each other. Wade admired Logan's length as Logan mildly kissed at Wade's jaw, then his neck as his hand gripped at Wade's shoulder.

The more Wade stroked, the heavier Logan's kisses got before he met Wade's burnt lips in a tepid kiss. You were touched that Logan finally gave in to kissing Wade without stabbing, but that was short lived as his claws punctured Wade's side.

Wade grunted into Logan's mouth, biting away to pause stroking. Logan bit into Wade's bottom lip, hard enough to make him bleed from there too.

You shook your head as Wade's blood oozed under his shirt and into his jeans, no doubt leaving a puddle when they would be done. Stretching out on the bed, you propped yourself up against the pillows and took in the show.

"Babe," you addressed Logan. He tilted his head slightly in your direction without meeting your eyes. "Why don't you touch Wade's cock?"

"Yeah, touch it, big boy," Wade teased, coughing up a bit of blood into Logan's mouth. "I promise not to cum in your hand."

"You better not," Logan hissed as his unclawed hand drifted down Wade's front to touch his cock.

He gave Wade a lax stroke, one that made Wade shiver before backing his hips away. Logan laughed mirthlessly at Wade's closeness.

"Now who's a good boy?" You asked, spreading your legs out to coax the men in your direction.

"Don't patronize me, sweetheart."

You sat up further, shifting a pillow out of the way for further use. "Come on, boys. We're not playing anymore."

Logan quickly unsheathed his claws from Wade's side, stashing them in his knuckles and wiping away his blood. "Don't have to tell me twice."

Logan dove into bed, quickly undressing before taking you in his arms. He turned you over onto him, leaving you to press your knees on the bed and line up over his cock.

You worked your hips over his tip, watching his face devolve quickly from hardened to pitiful. Reaching behind you, you guided Logan's cock into your pussy with a loud groan to the ceiling.

"Holy fuck," Wade whispered from the foot of the bed. "I forget how hot you two are."

You smirked, leaning down to kiss Logan; you tasted Wade's blood, the tart remnants of your pussy in the umami of his saliva. Logan's hands roamed down your sides, growling hungrily into your mouth before grabbing thick handfuls of your ass.

He massaged at your thighs and cheeks, slowly working you soft before gliding two fingers into your asshole.

"Wade," Logan tempted, spreading your cheek open while he fingered your hole. "We're waiting for you."

"Fuuuuuck," Wade groaned as your pussy clenched around Logan's hardened length.

He undressed at the foot of the bed then kneeled onto the bed after you two. Ready to guide his cock into you, Wade watched as you started a soft pace on Logan's cock while his fingers pushed in and out of you.

You moaned down at Logan, hissing at the stretch of his fingers as they worked in and out of you. His cock pressed in fully, stretching you at the same time.

"Spit," Logan ordered from underneath you at Wade. He carefully removed his fingers and held them out to him.

Wade lingered a long dribble of spit on Logan's fingers; Logan turned his fingers back to your hole, softening your rim with a few flexes. He slipped them back in, pushing further before ordering Wade to grab the lube from the bedside drawer.

He reached quickly for the bottle, popping the top and coating his cock with a long line of clear lube. Wade tenderly worked his aching cock then dripped more lube over Logan's fingers and your ass.

You whined, leaning into both instances of Logan taking over. Your eyes fluttered, backing into his fingers before meeting his cock thrusting into you.

Logan retracted his fingers again, spreading your worked ass open for Wade to join. "Be gentle."

Wade nodded eagerly, lining his tip to your ass before popping past your rim. The three of you shared a deep sigh of euphoric relief, with both of their tips colliding between your walls.

You broke and collapsed against Logan, raising your ass to participate though your heart was racing. Your arms curled around Logan's neck, prompting him to hold you up as he tucked his face to your neck.

You moaned into his ear, feeling Wade begin to thrust before pausing to catch his breath.

"I-I can't last," Wade whimpered, holding your hips still while Logan kept you moving on his length.

He tilted his head back to catch his breath, but Logan clicked his tongue to catch Wade's attention.

"Hey, eyes on me Wade," Logan coaxed, raising his head to free your face. "Look at us."

Wade shook his head, half-blinking as your ass clenched warmly around his length.

"Baby, make him feel better," Logan ordered softly to you, peeling you off of him.

You mewed, raising up on your knees and reaching back to drape your arm over Wade's neck. You pulled Wade's hand around to your clit, his other hand taking grip of your breast.

"This isn't helping," Wade strained in shallow gulps.

"I know, I know," you whined, allowing Wade to rest his chin to your shoulder.

"Fuck, you feel so fucking tight," Wade praised, practically holding his breath while holding you still on him.

It didn't help though, as Logan continued easing your hips up and down. He stared up at the two of you, eyes raking up and down your conjoined bodies.

He hissed, throwing his head back as his fingers gripped harshly into your thighs. At the same time, you heard the distinct shink of his claws emerging.

You glanced down at his hands, noticed how narrowly his claws missed you; however, they were planted into Wade's thighs. Looking up at Wade, you saw him straining with his bottom lip between his teeth.

"God, come on, baby. I need you to cum right now," Logan ordered, nodding his chin to Wade. "Scrub her clit 'til she cries."

Wade struggled to stay coherent, but did as told; working your clit in circles, you reached a hand out to brace Logan's stomach just as they met against your walls again.

You seethed, hiking up on your knees to avoid the feeling but were caught by Wade's arm tightening around you. He kissed at your neck, his dull fingernails scraping against your stomach.

Finally, you came, pausing between the two of them as your whole body throbbed in stimulation. Wade came instantly, releasing a heavy pant over your shoulder as he thrust into your ass with finality and filled you.

Logan waited out your pulsing walls, enjoying the waves of euphoria over his straining cock, then thrusted into you and came directly against your cervix.

You collapsed against Logan, catching your breath over his chest. Wade planted a foot out to the floor, slowly pulling out of you to witness your dripping ass. His cum slithered forward to your pussy, coating Logan's cock.

He shifted slowly next to Logan, lying down on the bed with enough space for you to lie down between. Logan pulled out of you, shifting you onto the bed before getting up.

He kissed your forehead and left the bedroom in silence. Wade sat up on his elbow, leaning over to kiss your temple. Logan returned, tossing a water bottle at Wade while his cock swang freely between his legs.

Kneeling onto the bed, Logan offered a cool water bottle to your forehead before reaching between your legs to clean you up. After he was done, Logan shut off the overhead light then climbed into bed.

"Go home, Wade," Logan bit out, opening his arm for you to cuddle into his side.

Wade cuddled against Logan's other side, wrapping his arms around the man's bicep before hitching a leg over Logan's waist.

"You big lug, gimme a kiss." Wade teased, leaning in to kiss the corner of Logan's mouth.

From under the comforter, you heard Logan's claws sheath themselves in Wade's thigh and you scoffed in disbelief.

"I am not cleaning the sheets," you muttered, drifting off to sleep.

"Don't worry, he will in the morning." Logan offered.

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