#wc plague

[residences-of-the-darkforest]

Familyecho won’t let me access it, but do you have photos of Shallowfig & banshee’s side of the family tree? Like who banshees parents are, their kits, and Shallowfig kits? - @wills-woodland-warriors, who is drawing a mini family tree for fadingflea family

Shallow I remember liking the idea that he sort of looks like a fennec fox!

He had a litter with someone he wasn’t all that close with. Once they were weaned, he was given full custody. Those kits are:

Then he and Banshee got together!

They had:

Banshee herself looks like this:

(Bonus sister)

Their mother, Plague, is here:

And I believe the father is Webstripe!

[residents-of-the-darkforest]

I've decided that while Plague tried to be a good mom (by her standards) the way She was raised heavily influenced the way she raised her kits.

She Scarred both girls with a little cross on their foreheads to mark them as her "heirs" (something that was done to her since she was in a position of power in her old rouge group), and was pretty emotionally abusive and physically negligent. She never hit them (she has a no hitting kits rule, despite what she did to Wasp) but she told them to "play" (train) with their claws out . She also didn't stop Usula from wailing on Banshee all the time, because she was the "stronger" child who would have taken Plague's place in the old rogue group.

All this leads up to when Banshee finally leaves, Plague strikes her for the first time, clawing across the cross scar as her way of disowning Banshee.

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DUDE

[radiobunnxx]

I need better things to do at 4 am than draw stupid things like this

Leafpool: Moonpaw wake up

Moonpaw: Huh...? Leafpool what are you doing in my room?

Leafpool: we must get cheese fries Moonpaw

Moonpaw: Can my girlfriend come?

Leafpool: ..... Yes

[ratcandy]

World's most legitimate clan leader in the history of forever!!!!!!!!!!

Clamstar is a WC OC being used for the @starsofdestinyrp !! <3 <3

[batsight]

Star Flower, loner, Medic of SkyClan

She/Her, cis bisexual

Mother: Turnip

Father: One Eye

Adoptive Father: Skystar

Siblings: Unnamed, all deceased.

Design notes:

-She is styled after the Pokemon, Ogerpon

-The plants are a physical part of her body. They grow out of her.

-She is the physical embodiment of The Blazing Star.

Story notes: [Abuse CW]

-She was born as a normal kitten to a traveling band of rogues who loved to trade and spread their music. Unfortunately, this band died out to a plague, one that nearly took her own life. Desperate to save his family, her father Carrot traveled to a set of tunnels in Sanctuary Lake rumored to house a reality-bending god. He asked the god for a cure, and the god asked for his eye in return. They made the exchange, and he retrieved a glowing, golden, five pointed flower. However, he was too late to save most of his family, so the entire cure went to his surviving kit. He wasn't expecting her to survive the night given her fragile state and the dubiousness of the exchange...

-But the next morning, she was perfectly fine- great, even. If a little... odd... were those buds growing on her paws...?

-It only got stranger from there. When Carrot ended up finding more cats suffering from the plague, just a few calming purrs from his kit seemed to have them ripe and ready to go the next morning. Carrot understood then what had happened- his kit had become the cure herself. And cats were starting to look towards them more, started begging for her healing, for anything. And Carrot had lost everything... wasn't it time to start winning stuff back?

-And so, the pair became One Eye and Star Flower, for recognition's sake. The two formed their own small group, filled with cats Star Flower had healed. Star Flower loved to spread her magic where she went, to save cats from the brink of death and be showered with their love and appreciation. They felt like they owed a great debt to her, and she enjoyed that.

-She was very close with her father, even if their relationship could be strained. One Eye loved her, but to an extent, he also used her. He grew arrogant in his success, believing he had become the accomplice to a god, and began to hold that over cats who fell sick. He grew desperate for control and Star Flower was his key to that.

-One day, however, her father's group encountered the early clans. They were just beginning to settle down, work out their new rules, and declare borders. But what caught the group's attention was the near murder of a young kittypet, almost mauled to death by proto-SkyClan's leader, Skystar. Unable to heal wounds with her magic, Star Flower managed to bring the cat to a twoleg, who took her away.

-Appalled by the cruelty, Star Flower took a great interest in Skystar's group, and witnessed several of his other crimes against his cats and the other groups. As did One Eye, who, seeing the early signs of a plague, had an idea to put this cat and the other leaders in their place.

-One Eye and Star Flower joined the group, with One Eye acting as a curious loner, flattering Skystar with praise. Skystar enjoyed his company, and so One Eye grew in the rank rather quickly. He also took a great interest in Star Flower and her abilities. After murdering Tom, who insulted the cats and attempted to attack them, One Eye took the chance to take control over the group, overpowering Skystar and using Star Flower's power to keep the remaining cats in line- everything is going to be okay, you'll get your cure... if you stay in line and do as One Eye says.

-This went on for a moon, of Star Flower holding her magic over the heads of her clients to keep their loyalty towards One Eye. She would be lying if she said she didn't feel pride at it all at helping her father.

-Ultimately, One Eye was overthrown and killed when Skystar came back with reinforcements from the other clans. The rest of the rogues they'd accumulated ran off, and suddenly, Star Flower was alone. She'd never been without her father, and running would mean abandoning his grave, which she didn't want. But... this place had been a home to her for some time now, and she needed a place to stay. SkyClan had taken all of the available territory in the area, anyways, and she was in no shape to brave the other territories or twolegplace. So she offered her power to SkyClan as a peace offering and asked for shelter in return.

-Skystar was still sore from the event, but he couldn't deny that having Star Flower as an asset would be beneficial to him in the long run. And around this point, his son Thunderstar had disowned him and split off ThunderClan from SkyClan. He felt that he was losing allies, losing family, and he latched on to desperate Star Flower very quickly- as a cat who would never disobey him.

-Skystar takes Star Flower under his wing as his new child, her new ward, instating her as a medic. And because she is loyal to a fault, she won't disobey a new leader so similar to her father. And so, he pushes her to do humiliating things in front of the camp, ranging from general chores like tick baths, to forcing her to run laps around camp with an injury if she took too long to work her magic. He would take out his frustration from gatherings on her and berate her over the most menial things. He would make her withhold her power to help anyone in the clan who had displeased him. And if Star Flower ever tried to stick up for herself, all he had to do was remind her of what she did, how she helped torment his cats by holding a cure over their heads to help out her father.

-This went on for years, Star Flower becoming more and more despondent. One night, there was a particularly stressful gathering, in which Skystar got into a territorial dispute with Thunderstar over a pack of dogs ravaging the territories. He lost the dispute, came home, and immediately took it out on Star Flower, shouting at and attacking the molly for "taking too much food she didn't deserve". And something in Star Flower finally snapped, and for the first time, she didn't save a life- she took one. And another. And another. As many as what remained in Skystar's soul. She was discovered taking his very last life in his nest, while she was wondering if she could pin it on the dogs. She escaped the camp, and wandered the territory for the rest of her life.

-Unfortunately, while she finally won against Skystar in the moment, it was history who decided the victor. Sparrowstar declared that they couldn't let a tragedy like this happen ever again, and doubled down on banishing rogues. Every rogue-born cat was looked at with suspicion from then on, and as the decades began to pass, Star Flower's story became twisted and bent. As the story is told, a rogue had infiltrated SkyClan's camp asking for help, but had manipulated and charmed the leader with her prowess and rose in the ranks just high enough to take him out and attempt to claim his spot. Her story was used as a cautionary tale against rogues, warning cats against those who would infiltrate the camp and rot it from the inside. Eventually, even her true name was lost to time...

Rotten Flower, Warrior of The Dark Forest

Skystar didn't hesitate to throw her in the depth of the Dark Forest when she died. She wears her mask constantly, trying to keep away from the sickness of the muck. She's embraced the false myth made about her, claiming to have killed a founder for power and prestige. But in reality, it's been so long that she's forgotten her family, her power, her name. She barely even remembers Skystar himself. Though she's admired in the Dark Forest for her achievements, she doesn't hang around anyone, and acts hostile to those who approach her.

Perhaps someone can help her remember who she truly is...?

[bramb]

Plague doctor Jayfeather 😈

[fourse]

Screams at you I have a bluestar au idea and it has to deal with mosskit I think it’s pretty interesting uh so

After bluefur gives her kits away to oakheart, she’s haunted by like the spirit/voice of mosskit. Or she’s hearing the voices of it idrk yet and basically it torments her and her death changes a bit as well I don’t want to reveal it completely yet though

[bandtrees]

you ever look back on your teenage/childhood ocs and think, "man, you had some shit going on, i think"

[yuridovewing]

this is so funny. “sir you’re in the frog eating clan”

[ask-dino-and-jessa]

”hello, you're dinosaurstep, right, well.. uh.. got bad news, because bloodthorn is missing.” -plaugemask

“Oh…”

“Dinosaurstep?”

“Aunt Starfall! Why are you here? You’re never here?”

“Dino… They’re gone…”

She’s Missing

GoodBye Little-Emo-Furry 🫡

[jaxthekat]

@boysenpop You asked for this, now I'm doing it bc I've remembered how to read! I'm going to keep WC and WoF off this list because I've read both so much and my opinions are usually, "That's nice :)". Anywho.... Book that pleasantly surprised you:

The Great Gatsby, F. Scott Fitzgerald. I was expecting a book to sludge through because I was reading it for school, but was pleasantly surprised when it wasn't bad! I liked the vibes of the book and the complexity of Gatsby's character. Discussing it after reading it was extremely interesting to me.

Honorable mention: The Odessy, Homer. Took everything I had to read, loved the story itself.

Book that disappointed you:

Huckleberry Finn, Mark Twain. I HATE this book. I just cannot read it. I genuinely sat down, no distractions, and tried my HARDEST to read this, but it was SO FREAKING BORING to me that I just couldn't. Even the sparknotes would barely hold my attention. Someone could have held me hostage and said "I'll kill you unless you read this book and tell me the plot" and I would just hand them the book back and say "then do it."

Current read:

:) We are trying <3 The only "in progress" book I have atm is The Divine Comedy, Dante Alighieri. I would like to eventually finish reading it, but I've been saying that for years LMAO

Top 2 books on your tbr:

Plague Dogs, Richard Adams. Story about dogs :) Unsure much else about it. A family member needed to use Audible credits, so I found this randomly, and they gifted it to me. I also have the hard cover version, but I drive a lot for work, so listening is easier.

Watership Down, Richard Adams. (Just realized these both are the same author LMAO) Was recommended this by a teacher in like 5th grade instead of Warriors, continued reading Warriors and held a grudge against this book. Now that I'm not a petty child, I plan to read it in case my teacher wasn't just being disrespectful to a kitty obsessed child. Only time will tell.

Frick, uhhhh I guess it's my turn to tag folks @dirtplace-tunnel, @nmirah, @granitethesandwing, @who-is-this-weirdo, and @jaggedpeak

[moonybadger]

Random fact about me: I have this group of old fancharacters from a particular franchise from that I just sort of... implant into different properties when I’m bored and need something to daydream about. It’s very odd to have this expanded universe going on in my head that only I know about, like I don’t write anything down about them or even draw them much but I sure am invested in them. They’re like a potluck in my head, where I just throw whatever ingredients I happen to be interested in at the time into their little universe. Right now it’s pokemon.

[residents-of-the-darkforest]

Banshee Plague fight of the century

YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES YES

[cocoahoovesflows]

Everyone: Cgucfuci I'm so excited for the next arc! Here's a handful of moonpaw designs (that look absolutely amazing btw oh my goodness)

Me: *hasn't even gotten past rising storm* KEEP IT DOWN OVER THERE

[mistyorchid]

Meet-Cute

Old Man Logan x fem! reader

summary: Failed talking stages inspire you to meet someone irl. Riding an older man in the backseat of his limo makes you forget about the immature boys who ghosted you on Hinge. Ch. 2 Ch. 3 warnings: MDNI, no use of y/n, smut, age gap, reader is 21+, fingering, riding, size difference, praise kink, pet names (doll, baby, sweet/good girl, sweetheart), unprotected p in v, light slapping, oral (male! receiving), creampie, car sex (nobody's around tho), logan's slutty glasses. wc: 3k

Hinge. The app designed to be deleted. You smiled as you pushed the cart, daydreaming about chucking your phone into the nearest lake. The few matches that you received often ghosted you after a week, afraid of committing to a real date.

So here you were, aimlessly strolling through a grocery store. Desperately begging the universe for a real man.

You spent an embarrassingly long time curating the perfect outfit to attract a guy worth your time. Casual enough for a quick errand, but still chic. I want to be with someone who admires my confidence. They shouldn't reprimand me for expressing myself.

That's how the feminist part of your brain explained your attire. The other touch-starved half, however, wanted to wear the shortest skirt you owned just to feel men stare holes through it.

You turned into the bakery aisle and pretended to evaluate the nutritional contents of a massive chocolate cake. Maybe this could be plan B, if tonight's endeavor was hopeless.

The comforting hum of fluorescent lights softened the sterile environment around you. Memories of simpler times floated in your mind. Handmade school lunches. Gentle kisses placed on your knee after a bad fall. You closed your eyes, lulled by the promises of love you were granted as a child. Now an adult, you yearned for a partner that could nurture you in a romantic way.

Logan overheard a bag of produce spill onto the floor as he picked up a shopping basket. The cashier dropped it when he saw Logan's blood-stained dress shirt.

Mumbling a string of profanity, he decided to release some steam. "Show's over!" he snapped, flippantly tossing his right arm behind him.

Ignoring the shocked gasps of the other shoppers, Logan sulked further into the store in search of something to soothe his palate.

His doctor tentatively ordered him to "lay off the booze," a suggestion that left three deep puncture wounds in the drywall of his office. Alcohol numbed the emotional and physical pain that plagued him, but it also further delayed his healing powers.

Logan's skeleton was withering away, and all he wanted was a fucking sweet treat.

Your body braced for impact as your chest made contact with a shopper haphazardly turning into the aisle. After dropping the cake onto the pristine white tile, you closed your eyes again, salvaging the moment of peace that was stolen from you.

"Hey, watch where you're going, asshole." You reluctantly opened your eyes and were met with the solid torso of a man.

Slowly raking your gaze up his body, you raised your eyebrows at the sight of his bloody shirt before meeting his narrowed eyes.

Crows feet radiating from the corners. Prescription glasses. He appeared much older than you expected from your brief contact with his chest.

You silently cursed your luck. This meet-cute plan was steadily evolving into a meet-angry situation.

"Not smart to close your eyes in public," he huffed, staring pointedly at the fallen cake. It was hard not to notice your mini skirt. He hasn't seen a skirt that short since the 60s.

Although you had pulled away from him, the man's eyes lingered on your chest. The playful baby-doll top hugged your cleavage in all the right places. Your glossy lips donned a similar shade of pink. He quickly resumed eye contact, feeling like a dirty old man for imagining them wrapped around his cock.

She's too young, you sick fuck. Logan's internal monologue worked overtime to maintain a shred of decency.

Your face turned away from him at the impending embarrassment you were about to put yourself through. Smirking, you shyly retorted, "Not smart to stare at a girl's tits in public." You gently pushed up his glasses further onto the bridge of his nose.

Closing the gap between your chests, you tip-toed to reach his ear before whispering, "It's okay . . . I want you to."

The answer to Logan's suffering was sweeter than any slice of cake he could have indulged in. A pretty little thing was actually flirting with him, a cynical ex-soldier worn by the unforgiving rings of time.

Logan's hands found the back of your elbows and slowly pulled you closer to him. You gasped as you felt his belt buckle catch on the flimsy fabric of your top.

"Careful, doll," he grunted, leaning down to meet the side of your face. "I'm old enough to be your father."

You defiantly peered up at him through your lashes. "Yeah, and . . .?"

The man slowly distanced himself from you, gently tugging the hem of your top down to its original state.

Okay, definitely not the best response to seduce an older man. You chewed the inside of your cheek, stunned by your juvenile comeback.

"I'm sorry, kid. Forget I said anything," he muttered before turning into another aisle. He mentally kicked himself for letting the interaction go that far. Although his aching body and mind yearned for some relief, he wouldn't take advantage of some young girl.

He hurriedly stomped past the cashiers, swiping a few cigars from a distracted employee's station.

After the initial shock wore off, you quickly followed the older man to the parking lot. Totally not stalker-ish at all, right?

You wanted to take care of him. His reluctance to return your lust-sick gaze should have deterred you, but it only made you more desperate.

You watched as his hands dug into his pocket, pulling out a set of keys. The chipper click of the limo doors unlocking motivated you to get his attention.

"Hey! Can we talk?" You yelled, raising an outstretched palm to stop him from getting inside the car.

Logan froze at the sound of your voice. He contemplated being responsible, slamming his door and driving off without a second glance.

The gentle pressure of your hand wrapping around his wrist made him think extremely irresponsible thoughts.

Turning around to meet your gaze, the older man swiftly opened the passenger door. "Get in. Now," he growled.

Words betrayed you. All you responded with was a surprised squeak as he used your grip on his wrist to push you further into the vehicle.

His eyes widened as you briefly parted your thighs to get settled in the lush leather seat. The sinfully short hem of your skirt bunched up, revealing your underwear.

Logan whipped his head to the front of the limo, avoiding the sight of your body. Unfortunately, he couldn't avoid how you felt against his. You sat at an angle towards him, knees pressing against his thigh. His body tensed as you placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Why were you following me, huh?" he asked, finally meeting your eyes. "I've had a long fuckin' day and I need answers." He couldn't believe that a young woman like you would be interested in him.

"Yeah, you're old enough to be my father, maybe older-" you paused to move your left hand onto his thigh. "-but I'm done playing with boys." You shyly turned your head before continuing, "Need a real man."

Logan was done holding back. Now, it all made sense. Your lack of direction in the store, the low cut of your outfit that was way too sexy for a late night grocery run. We're both adults, he reasoned. She wants this.

He gingerly cradled your jaw with his large hand, turning your head towards his. "You sure about this, sweetheart?

You covered his hand with your own, bringing your lips to his in a spontaneous kiss. "I-I need to hear you," he stuttered.

"Shut up and fuck me, . . . " you sighed, pausing to ask for his name.

"Logan . . . call me Logan, doll." His left hand snaked around your waist, bunching the delicate material and exposing your breasts.

As you leaned into his palm, he fished the limo keys out of his pocket and clicked twice, locking the doors. He fondled the underside of your tits before rolling the sensitive nipples between his thumb and forefinger.

You were grateful for the tinted windows that shielded your embarrassing moans from the public.

"Already whining for me, hm? So fuckin' needy," he hummed, pushing up your top even further. You crossed your arms to undress, but Logan swatted them away, explaining, "It's cute. Wanna see your tits bounce for me, baby."

He gripped your ass with both hands and effortlessly swung you onto the broad expanse of his lap.

Your back arched as his rough palm cupped your pussy, thumb languidly tracing your sensitive bud through the cotton.

"But this . . . has to go," he drawled, tugging the elastic of your panties before letting it go with a faint snap.

It was too much. You were splayed over the lap of a stranger, hips wantonly rocking yourself over his prominent bulge and mewling as your sensitive clit caught on the rough fabric of his slacks.

He stilled your movements with his hands, lovingly kneading the flesh of your hips. "You okay with this?" he asked, searching your eyes for any sign of doubt. "Yeah, Logan . . . more than okay. Need you."

You loved that he was confident enough to take what he wanted but also gracious enough to check in, unlike the boys you were used to fucking around with.

His fingers hooked around the waistband of your skirt and panties, skillfully pushing your legs against your chest as he pulled them off. He decided against slicing them off with his claws, not wanting to hurt you. "Fuck. You're so pretty. My sweet, sweet girl . . ." he cooed. You whined as your aching cunt was finally exposed to Logan's hungry gaze and the chill night air. He groaned as you resumed desecrating his lap with your juices.

Your breath hitched as Logan traced two fingers along your bottom lip. You granted him access, playfully darting your tongue around his digits.

After his fingers were thoroughly soaked, he used your saliva to gently trace your hole, noticing the faint flutter of your walls.

"Need me to fill you up, hm? Poor baby's clenching around nothing. Let me fix that . . ." Logan's palm brushed against your clit as his fingers plunged into you, setting a steady pace.

You were incredibly wet, but he needed to prep you for his thick cock. He drooled, collecting a heavy wad of spit onto his tongue before letting it fall onto your pussy.

"Ah-ah!" You exclaimed, surprised by the contact. You bit your lip, cheeks flushing at the lewd feeling of his spit mixing with your wetness.

He used his other hand to slap repeatedly against your puffy folds, mesmerized by how vulnerable you were being for him.

"Yeah, you like that?" He whispered, curling his fingers as they met your cervix. You covered your mouth, desperately trying to maintain some modesty. Logan withdrew his left hand to pry away your arm and swallow your moans, sloppily slotting his lips into yours.

You gasped into his mouth as you felt your cunt spasm around his fingers, gushing all over his tight slacks.

"Oh, fuck! Logan . . . " you mewled, biting his lower lip while he continued to finger you through your orgasm.

Your head fell into the inviting crook of his neck, nuzzling his graying beard. "Atta girl, come for me," he cooed.

Logan peered down at you, noticing wet droplets dampening his beard. You were silently crying, tears cascading down your puffy cheeks before landing on his face.

At first, he was alarmed. "Hey, hey, shhhh," he purred. "What's the matter, doll?"

His cock twitched when he realized you were smiling against his neck.

"Nothing's wrong, Logan . . . you make me feel so good, that's all."

He planted a sweet kiss on your forehead. "Yeah? Want me to make you feel even better? Fill you up for real this time?"

You nodded dumbly, still basking in the haze of your release.

"Nuh-uh. Words." The simple command made you rut into his lap.

You shuddered while responding. "Wanna feel you inside me. Need your-" Logan bucked up into you. "-cock."

He slid his hands under your thighs, briefly pushing you forward so he could unbuckle his belt. Your small hands slinked toward his waist. "Let me do it," you pleaded, hastily sliding his belt through its loops and tossing it to the floor.

You pulled his cock out of his slacks, leaning down to press sweet little kisses to the head. Your thighs burned with the effort, but it was worth it to feel him momentarily lose control. Logan hissed sharply, "Good girl, fuck-" before guiding his thick cock into your heavenly mouth.

You licked a prominent vein that teased its way above his waistband. The taste of him was utterly intoxicating. You moaned onto his length, choking back tears as he suddenly thrust up into your eager throat.

The delicious weight of his cock on your tongue was short-lived. He cupped your face, forcing your mouth to slide past the tip with an obscene pop.

"Won't last long if you keep doing that, doll. Takes a lot less to get me riled up these days," he explained.

You nodded as you straightened yourself, using your knees to hover above his lap. He teasingly ran the flushed tip of his cock through your folds before sinking into your weeping pussy.

"Oh my god! fuck-" you cried, lowering your hips to embrace his full length. Your hands found stability on Logan's shoulders as you bounced on his cock.

Logan stared in awe at your tits. They were practically spilling out the sides of your cute top, jiggling with each movement of your hips.

As he admired your form, you drunk in the sight of his coarse salt and pepper beard. His wiry glasses barely held onto the slope of his strong nose due to your eager movements. You paid special attention to his crimson-stained shirt, wondering how he was enduring the wounds.

"You're hurt." You stated, pausing to slowly unbutton his dress shirt.

Logan's hands grabbed a handful of your ass and slammed you down onto his lap, forcing you to continue taking his cock.

"Never said you could stop," he huffed. "It'll take time, but I'm healing."

You gasped as your clit hitched on the bunched fabric of his slacks, frantically shrugging off his shirt in the process. A devastating moan ripped from Logan's throat as you peppered kisses on his wounds. The coppery taste of his blood was oddly soothing, reminding you that the man buried in your cunt was real and not just a figment of your lust-fueled imagination.

Logan loved how dazed you looked, your chest rising and falling with each shaky breath, your pupils dilated and glossy. His cock twitched every time your soft tits brushed against his face. You whined as the steady rhythm of your hips faltered, hinting at your imminent release.

"Lean forward, baby. Let your old man take care of you," he sighed, wrapping his broad arms around your waist. You allowed yourself to slump forward, arching your back and playfully wiggling your ass in the air.

You yelped as he slapped your ass with enough force to feel the sting radiate from his outstretched palm. "Such a fuckin' tease," he growled, filling you up in one thrust. He set a punishing pace that made you sob into his chest. The loud squelches of your release echoed throughout the limo, mirroring your high-pitched wines.

"Oh, my god! . . ." you mewled, savoring the feeling of his cock stretching your walls. Your breath hitched every time his hips met yours, balls slapping against the sensitive skin of your ass.

He fucked up into your cunt, relishing the fact that you'd probably never had a cock as big as his. Logan stared at where you were connected, hypnotized by the subtle drag of your folds along his rugged length.

"Don't know what I did to deserve a pretty girl like you." His teeth tugged on the delicate strap of your top, exposing your breasts. His mouth enveloped the bud, gently sucking and pulling as they hardened.

"Logan . . . can't take it anymore. I'm close." You clenched around him, earning another hard slap on your ass.

"You gonna come for me sweetheart, hm?" He somehow increased his pace, hips drilling into your sensitive cunt. "C'mon, come all over my cock. Such a sweet young thing, so eager to please . . . " he hummed into your ear.

"And just so we're clear, I am definitely older than your father." His filthy words made you arch even higher, stilling your hips mid-air and allowing Logan to fuck you through your release.

The sound of you faintly chanting his name as you came sent him over the edge. "You can take it," he encouraged as your pathetic whines intermingled with his unabashed groans. His hips drove home, bouncing you harshly against his tense thighs and spilling into you with a low growl.

You almost blacked out at the feeling of his cum spurting into your walls, reaching even further when Logan buried his cock to the hilt. You clenched around him, overstimulated and thoroughly fucked.

"That's it, just relax . . . You look so pretty milking my cock," he praised, brushing stray hair away from your face.

You managed to sit upright and shakily moved to lift yourself off his cock, but Logan quickly steadied your hips. He's still hard, you realized, fascinated by his renewed vigor.

He panted, obviously just as spent as you were.

"So, uh, tomorrow, the Italian place on fifth street, 8 PM?"

You narrowed your eyes, incredibly confused at his choice of words after experiencing the best sex you've ever had.

"Our first date," he clarified. He kissed your cheek and you blushed at the contrast between the innocent action and the fact that his hard cock was still buried in your cunt. "After all, I'm a real man, right? And real men plan dates." He plastered on a cocky grin, repeating your earlier statements.

"Okay, old man. It's a date." You smiled, kissing his mouth with passion.

an: Ah!!! I had so much fun writing this. Old Man Logan, when will it be my turn >:[

[dollerinna]

I WANT TO F**K YOU LIKE AN ANIMAL .

( black noir x fem supe!reader )

summary: the not-so-innocent things that go on in noir’s head abt you during The Seven meetings (wc: 1.8k)

warnings: MDNI, dub-con, rough p in v, doggy style, primal play themes, size kink, gagging, sobbing, corruption kink, Homelander being a weirdo at the end… just a lil’

first fic on this blog and I lowkey hate it- ughhh sorry if it’s all over the place!

The morning sun cast its golden glow upon the Manhattan skyline as The Seven assembled in their meeting room.

Homelander paced before them, detailing some new initiative he had conceived, but his words rang as emptily as the void behind his eyes. The Deep hung on his every syllable, eager as ever to prove his ass-kissing self with poorly-timed quips. This earned him nothing but a withering side-eye.

A-Train and Maeve listened with feigned interest, checking out of the conversation all but in body. Noir sat apart, idly fidgeting with a pen as his mind wandered. But his attention was drawn not to the usual faces, for there was a new supe among them—you, the latest fresh-faced recruit to their team.

On the surface, you appeared the absolute picture of attention—eyes forward, laser focused on Homelander as he tiresomely outlined the team's objectives.

It was cute, really, how focused the newbies always strived to be. Yet beneath the facade, you were actually anything but so, not when you felt an unseen gaze assessing you, weighing you.

Flicking your eyes discreetly aside, you confirmed a suspicion you could smell from miles away: Noir watching from across the table, his expression shrouded as ever behind the visor of his helmet.

Ugh, talk about creepy.

A subtle flutter of your eyelids shifted your line of sight, choosing to trust that his thousand-yard stare just so casually happen to drift your way and not an attempt to burn his gaze into your very soul.

Besides, what else could the guy possibly think about? Training, orders from Vought, simple pastimes—usually, such painfully mundane, run-of-the-mill thoughts occupied him.

But little did you know in this moment, as he studied your presence from afar, his mental reflections took a turn less… innocent.

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“N-Noir… mmph-… please…”

It wasn’t his doing, he didn’t ask to be plagued with this sickly obsession; but every time he heard your voice, it was as if sweet, smooth-spun sugar had come alive.

An alien lust scorched Noir’s consciousness, catapulting his fevered mind into unfamiliar territory. Try as he might, he couldn’t shake the sinful thoughts that stubbornly stuck to him like glue. Just the mere notion of ever being responsible for those pretty little sounds was enough for arousal to creep through his veins like a nasty virus, sapping what was left of his crumbling self-control.

Your every whine, your every moan, would be a siren's call that beckoned him to claim you, to strip away your composure until you were utterly, helplessly his. All he craved was to watch the light in your eyes dwindle, to witness your breaths dampening into shallow puffs of air that blanketed your gaze in a veil of fog, gradually muffling you into a stillness even quieter than he was.

And truthfully, it wasn’t a matter of whether you liked it or not.

Noir would ensure his touch left no room for refusal, his grasp iron-hard as he positioned your trembling, naked body on the floor to his liking—face pinned down, ass arched up, just as it should be. Yet even as he held you fast with a palm braced against your sweat-slicked spine, his other hand moved with a surprising tenderness, gently teasing loose and brushing apart the knotted strands of hair clung to your ruddied features.

He imagined the merest of touches would set your blood aflame, rumbling up a ripe groan from your core. “…Oh m-my god… fuck…” words fled your mouth on airless breaths, nearly inaudible but still enough for him to catch. In response, he’d slowly lift a finger to your glistening lips, accompanied by a soundless ‘shh’—a signal for you to behave.

After all, good girls should never cuss.

Large, strong hands would then greedily paw at the lush fat of your ass cheeks, the scratchy textured fabric of his gloves leaving blooms of red across your flesh. Spreading you open, he’d admire the way your juicy, moist folds parted slightly, the aching emptiness within your entrance eliciting an involuntary clenching—your muted moans, trapped in your throat, acting as a wordless plea for more of his touch, more of him.

He liked to think you’d be mere putty in his hands, before he was even close to fucking you.

Noir would take his sweet time exploring you, his curiosity of the human form eclipsing the immediate need to quell a white-hot carnal desire every red-blooded man gets. He was good at rearranging people’s insides, literally, but what if he flipped the script in a much different way?

Experimentally, he’d run the very tip of his gloved finger along the weeping slit of your sex, ghosting ever so lightly over your swollen, hypersensitive clit to collect your slick arousal. Then, without warning, he’d dip an entire digit into your quivering depths, reveling in the way your spongy muscles squeezed and welcomed him in.

Your breath would hitch at the intrusion, skin prickling with a visceral need as you eagerly shoved your rear back against his palm, craving more. However, just as swiftly, he would withdraw his hand, bringing it close to his face to observe it covered in your juices, inspecting how the slimy, milky-white essence connected a trail between his fingers.

Who knew light fondling and agonizing silence was all the foreplay you needed? (or at least, in Noir’s fanciful pornographic depictions of you)

Once done playing with his food, he’d drag his knees closer to your body, his hips flush against your ass, leaving your peripheral vision filled with nothing but his imposing, darkly-clad figure dwarfing your own. Without hesitation, he’d reach down to remove the codpiece off him, freeing his hefty cock which sprang forth in the air, where it stood rock-hard, veiny, and impossibly large.

Wrapping a hand around himself, the thickly-roped, buzzing veins were betrayed by each gritty pull of his glove, drawing a guttural grunt from behind his balaclava. He’d guide his erection between your warm folds, the engorged ridge of his tip prodding against your bundle of nerves, sending electric jolts of pleasure to crackle through your core, before he began to sheathe himself inside you with a push that drove him home.

With a grip possessive and firm around your waist, Noir quickly fell into a steady, almost robotic rhythm of sturdy pushes and pulls. Each punishing collision of your bodies was answered by the lewd, rapid sounds of skin-on-skin, making damn sure you felt every single inch of him as he rutted into you like a man possessed.

He’d only hope to see you struggle taking him all in, envisioning how the sheer scale of his size forced the very air out from your gasping lungs.

“P-Please Noir!… ngh-… my body can’t handle this much,” your once-lovely voice now ragged and frail, scraping sobs grinding your vocal cords near silence as you churned and coiled like a fawn caught in the clutches of a big, bad wolf. “Be gentle, I’m begging you!—-” You choked out weakly, bordering on a soft, pitiful whine.

Expectantly, a weighted silence followed suit from Noir. In his typical, unsparing fashion, he slipped a glove from his hand, jamming it into your mouth and effectively gagging you into silence, as if to say—pipe down, be a good girl, and take my cock like you’re supposed to.

Even without a single word uttered by him, it worked like absolute fucking magic.

Your torso would practically collapse under the onslaught, wobbly limbs giving way as you let Noir use your arched up, offering form like a personal fleshlight. His hips would retract further back in an excruciating slowness, simply marveling at your wetness coating the base of his member like a second skin, only to slam back into you with raw vigor.

Your tight, gummy walls would be offered absolutely no time to adjust to the relentless invasion of his girth, the sheer thickness of his cock forcefully stretching out your cunt to shape him, to the point it felt like he was trying to split you into two.

He’d yank your flexing thighs back to meet his brutal series of thrusts, burying himself into you to the very tilt as the fleshy head of his cock kissed your cervix, igniting a searing white bolt of static to lance through your vision, momentarily fracturing it.

The all-consuming, dizzying sensation hit you like a ton of bricks, toppling your senses and wrenching a strangled sob out from your slack jaw once more. This earned you another biting touch from Noir’s thumbs pressed into your sides, as if seeking to wring every gasp out of your chest, to hear your moans rattle through your ribcage.

However even your rawest cries were swiftly muffled, swallowed by the balled-up glove shoved roughly between your teeth, which reduced you to nothing more than a gagging, pleasure-drunk whore for him to claim.

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Meanwhile…

“Welp, that about covers it for today,” Homelander announced with a thunderous clap, loud enough for it to ring through Noir’s ears and bring him back to the present.

Slowly, Noir spun his head back towards Homelander, who had just finished addressing the team while his own thoughts drifted to places where even the pearly gates of heaven wouldn't give him the time of day.

“Now shoo- and no more sloppy behavior. I’ll be keeping an eye on each and every one of you.” Homelander dismissed them with a casual wave and a chuckle laced with another one of his thinly veiled threats.

As everyone, including little-miss-oblivious-you, got up to leave the meeting room, Homelander sauntered over to Noir, heartily slapping a heavy hand onto his back. “Earth to Noir! I know that look—thoughts a million miles away behind that sphinx-like mask of yours,” giving a sly little shrug, he slanted a meaningful look towards Noir’s codpiece. “But methinks, someone here isn’t as impenetrable as I thought…” A thin wry smile played his lips, a subtle hint at his x-ray vision allowing him to see a particular something-something of Noir’s that was currently just as hard as his body armor.

“It might do you good to line that suit with zinc. Wouldn't want any unwanted eyes peeking where they shouldn’t, do we?" An amused exhale, part sigh part snicker, slipped out of Homelander as his gaze swept over Noir once more.

True to form, all he received in turn was Noir’s standard muteness, as soundless as a grave.

Homelander eased the quiet with a huffed laugh, rocking back on his heels as he tilted his head in playful study of Noir. "But don't worry," he added with a knowing smirk, "it happens to the best of us. But do try to keep your head in the game! And not with your other one, ‘kay buddy?” Homelander jested in mock-reproach as he landed one last waggish, firm slap between Noir's shoulders, flashing his gleaming white yet eerily pointed grin.

Noir remained statue still, no hint of feeling betrayed by his rigid posture despite the toe-curling awkwardness of the encounter, or perhaps he'd yet to fully realize Homelander had peered within and seen his aching, raging hard-on behind the suit's facade.

Noir silently watched Homelander shoot two playful finger guns, his cape swirled shut behind him before leaving the room.

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Pssst- Likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated in this household and keep me motivated! <3

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Apologies if there are any grammatical errors here, cuz I’m alr so done with this fic 😭😭😭