#Henry cavill Henry cavill fic

[thedemonofcat]

Geralt comes across a book titled "How to Keep Your Companions Happy and Cared For." What he doesn't realize is that it's actually a guide for dog care.

Nevertheless, Geralt decides to follow the advice in the book with Jaskier. After all, he just got his bard back and wants him to stick around.

Jaskier, on the other hand, is perplexed by Geralt's recent habit of patting his head and giving him extra snacks. Despite the confusion, he doesn't really mind; it's actually quite nice.

#the witcher netflix #the witcher #geralt of rivia #joey batey #jaskier the witcher #henry cavill #the witcher jaskier #geralt x jaskier #geraskier #fic ideas #jaskier #gerskier #cirilla fiona elen riannon #freya allan #headcanon #yennefer of vengerberg #the witcher season 3 #the witcher season three #anya chalotra

[milknhonies]

Daddy's Final Deal

Oneshot Summary: Your possessive Step-Father Bruce Wayne decides he cannot bare you leaving for college...so he leans on a friend who shares the same obsession for you. He offers him a deal.

Oneshot Warning: 18+ Dead Dove Do Not Eat, Non-Con, CNC, Grooming (all characters are of legal age.) Bondage, P in V, Oral Sex, Threesome, Exhibition, Vouyerism, pseudo-incest between step-father & step daughter, pimping if you squint, breeding kink if you squint. No condoms/unsafe sex.

Word Count: 10.2k

Author Notes: This is a gift for @cardierreh15 after a playful dare. I hope you enjoy this babe 🥺✨

Gently laid on soft satin bed sheets, your thoughts were consumed with the evening discussion that you had during supper with your step-father Bruce and his best friend Clark, followed by the unexpected marriage proposal Clark had made. You were surprised Clark had wanted your hand for any other purpose than for your step-father’s wealth– you would have never guessed his feelings for your because he was usually so calm and friendly with everyone. Yet he had asked you softly if you would consider being his wife with a warm smile, and you knew he was serious from the glint in his eyes. It was like your lungs were drowning with how difficult it was to breathe.

For the first time, your heart stirred, void of fear and worry.

You didn’t outright decline his offer, but a decision of this magnitude deserved more than a hasty reply. You had to think this through being that you were so caught if guard in the first place, so you demurred by saying you needed time to think about your official answer. After all, you were just a month away from starting college. You wanted to be a journalist like Clark despite Bruce’s protests and alternative encouragement for you to remain home and attend charity balls with him. Besides, Clark was a bit too old…a little younger than Bruce but both men still had twenty years on you.

If age wasn’t the defining taboo, you had noted Clark was a gentleman who had the ability to make you laugh. If anything was to happen to Bruce or Alfred, you felt Clark would be the most reliable shoulder to lean against.

You rolled over and sighed, you held your blanket up to your chin and continued to ponder.

Clark Kent...he would be a decent husband, but did you have feelings for him? He was rather charming and undeniably handsome. It was something that you would probably lose sleep over in the future.

Clark had approached the topic very calmly, almost shyly, and Bruce had seemed to be expecting this. That made it obvious to your that Clark had asked your step-father first, and Bruce would not have let his best friend ask you if he did not approve first...Bruce in fact was smiling at dinner and that smile fell when you have your polite neutral response.

Suddenly the wine he had let your drink felt a little sickly in your belly. You excuses yourself as soon as you could to your bedroom.

You rolled over in your sheets and sighed softly, snuggling up under the thick duvet and nuzzling the thousand-dollar pillows. It confused you, but the more you thought about it, the less absurd it became. You giggled. Clark would make a very good husband, and you would be lucky to have someone such as him, of such a good but firm character, always with an easy smile or an encouraging word for you. And he had always been a good friend to you, respecting your interests in writing, sometimes babying you, which girls your age might find annoying but you didn’t mind.

The boys your age were so horny and stupid...immature. it was impossible to see them as providers for the families that they claimed to want for themselves.

So saying “yes” to Clark would feel a little weird to you, but what real reason was there to say no? Did you have someone else? You might’ve shared kisses along your teens in highschool, yet none of them swept you off your feet enough to like them.

You were just glad that Clark had agreed to let your think about it. His smile had been relaxed, and he showed no anger or resentment. His eyes did appear tighter, other than that it even seemed as if he had expected your hesitation and was willing to wait. Clark was always so understanding, why wouldn’t he be about such an important question like this?

You shut your eyes with a smile.

★★★

Meanwhile, the men remained downstairs in the library, in front of the fireplace, and Clark looked across the flames at his best friend.

“Are you sure you still want to go through with this Bruce?” he asked.

The men had known each other for years and had grown a close bond in friendship and other activities. And if course it was bound to slip from one man’s lips to the other about their depraved thoughts, desires and fantasies....it turns out they shared a common denominator... You.

Over a month ago they were sitting in the same place discussing the same issue about to occur...losing you.

They knew if you left for college, you’d meet some cocky asshole studying to be a lawyer or doctor, get pregnant, get married quickly only to suffer a uncommitted marriage and end in a heart breaking divorce.

What type of men would they be if they watched their favourite girl fall to such demise as that!?

Bruce had married your mother when you were fourteen and he was the best dad you could ever ask for. He helped with your homework and taught you to swim while he paid for your mother’s chemo therapy.

When she died three years ago, you’d just finished highschool. You were totally shattered and put off summer break and college until you knew you were prepared. But now Clark had dumped the marriage proposal.

Clark sighed. His best friend's idea wasn’t totally a surprise to him. Bruce had planned this.

Clark recalled how Bruce was constantly looking out for you; his protectiveness as a stepfather, while perhaps misguided, was undeniably apparent. It was clear that he cared about you deeply and had shown no interest in any other woman since the passing of his wife—your mother. Clark often caught Bruce gazing at you with a loving and compassionate gaze, as if he were contemplating the best way to look after you.

During those days Clark was scared to share his own perverse thoughts...oh how the man wanted to look after you. You always were so lovely around him, so eager to gain his attention and praise, perhaps as another fatherly figure she could cling to...It wasn’t hard for Bruce to see that Clark loved you dearly and was clearly proud of your accomplishments. Clark was proud like a second father.... Except he wanted to do things no father should ever do to their little girls. He almost lost it one day when he walked in on you, on your hands and knees scrubbing the carpet before Alfred could find the stains you’d made when stealing some red whine from Bruce’s cellar. Your skirt was a tad too short, the hem pulled up over your ass cheeks and crotch. Clark held back from ripping those white nylon leggings with those cute pink panties and shoving his cock deep in your tight cunt.

He wondered if Bruce ever found out about the stain...he touched himself imagining Mister Wayne spanking his wayward little minx of a daughter over his knees.

Clark wanted you. Bruce wanted you and the moment they both figured it out, neither of them could judge each other for their thoughts....

They decided Clark would ask for your hand and the billionaire of Gotham would give his best friend his blessing – on one condition.

The idea was foul and taboo, and Clark was not sure whether he should deny to it or not. But this was his best friend, the loving step-father who cared about the young woman Clark wanted to marry as much as he did if not more. You had shared things in the past, and whenever you had debated or ‘fought’ over things, it was always light hearted, and never bitter.

“Of course I do, if not now then not ever Clark....” Bruce replied with a brief nod, “Tonight might be the only chance we get.”

Clark nodded slowly for a moment. Yes, he cared for you and had done so for a long time. He was happy that when he asked, you had not acted with shock or revulsion. But you had seemed surprised and hesitant, and he could not blame your for being shy and uncertain.

“What if she says no?” he asked.

Bruce’s eyes darkened, “She will...at first. Are you capable of pushing through that Kent?”

The super man smirked sickly. Of course he could. Clark nodded.

“She is going to be scared,” Bruce replied with certainty as he slowly turned his head towards the stairway out in the hall that led to your wing of the mansion, “I have been expecting this since her mother died, I doubt she remembers that night…”

Clark sighed, “I recall you letting her drink. She was a giggling and crying mess when I carried her to her room to have a nap.”

Bruce curled his lips inward, and he nodded. The silence grew strained.

Clark’s eyes furrowed in curiosity, “Bruce…are you hiding something from me?”

“She…” his friend paused, his grey eyes grew hazed as he looked into the flames, “When you left, I went to check up on her,” he thrummed his fingers on his chin, “She was touching herself Clark... and I caught her and…well…she…” his eyes met the other man again.

Clark sat back in his leather seat, his throat bobbed, “You watched until the end?” the was no judgement merely a question to acknowledge what had happened.

The other man nodded again and continued, “I came in after she finished, she was half out of it. So when I tucked her in, she kissed me…fully…and…god Clark…she- she’s so beautiful, I can’t watch her go off to college.…”

The journalist exhaled and clenched his jaw.

And Bruce sighed, “That’s why my little girl is going to be pregnant tonight.”

Clarks eyes widened, his lips parted hesitantly. That was not in the original plan...He paused and struggled to find the right words. Bruce had given Clark the greatest opportunity and the wrong word would revoke all that granted privilege.

“We both care about you,” the billionaire sucked his teeth, “Forget what the tabloids will say. They are hypocrites with absolutely no moral sense. Afterall mr superman, aren’t you rubbing shoulders at the daily planet, surely you can take care of the backlash? We aren’t blood related and c’mon we have a right to her better than anyone on this cold spinning rock. With my wealth and your muscles, who else would take better care of her? No one else!” Bruce said fiercely, although his voice was a whisper, his eyes narrowed slightly.

Clark found himself frozen in place, his eyes locked on his friend’s face. It took him a moment to process all the emotions and thoughts that surged around inside him. Finally, he managed to nod his head slowly, as he tried to take in the unexpected turn of events.

“Okay Wayne,” his lips broke into a dark chuckle, “Lets go put a baby in our little girl.”

The wooden door your bedroom creaked open slowly. A bit of light from the hallway made its way past Bruce’s bulk form, illuminating his step-daughter’s face. When he whispered your name, you did not stir, and he smiled to himself. He turned around to Clark and nodded. The two of them moved forward stealthily. Bruce carefully slid his arms under the blanket, finding your form before scooping it up. You stirred but did not wake. Bruce carefully carried you to his master bedroom, a place he scarcely let you enter for the obvious reason of what he kept secret in his drawers. Clark shut the doors and locked them, heaven forbid Alfred managed to walk into this event.

It would be more comfortable here for the three of you, and warmer with how Bruce kept an electric fireplace and big flat screen tv on the wall. The flames continued dancing cheerily as Bruce gently laid his step-daughter down, looking at you with a small smile.

Several moments passed before Bruce lowered his hand, gently moving his hand under your nightie chemise, his hot palm over your stomach. The mattress dipped on both sides keeping you balanced. Another set of fingers creeped up your thighs. Since the touches were so gentle, you did not stir so easily. Clark watched silently, his heart pounding as Bruce slowly lifted your hem up showing off a set of fresh underwear he allowed you to buy with the allowance credit card.

A cute pair of cotton white panties with a soft yellow duck print on top of the crotch. Clark swallowed hard. His thumb scarcely brushed over your damp apex. A small wet spot was beginning to spread. You softly cooed, still not awake…surely dreaming of something naughty by what Clark could smell.

Bruce glanced at Clark before looking back at you, and carefully untied the small strings that held the top bust of your nightie closed. His hands were steady as he parted the folds.

And there they laid their eyes on your breasts, Clark had to hold back a loud sharp intake of breath. Your nipples were perfect, and he found himself craving to suckle them. Your nipples hardened slightly as the slight coolness of the air tickled them.

You groaned softly, your eyelids fluttering open. You shifted and rolled over onto your side, looking around in confusion.

‘Where am I? Where’s my cuddle pillow?’

You rubbed your eyes and registered that you were with your step-father and Clark…on Bruce’s bed…. Both men were staring down at you silently, and you gasped when you realised your nightie was open. You held back a shriek and quickly whipped it closed before shoving the hem of your nightie down past your knees.

‘What am I doing out of my bed and with my chest exposed? Why we my nightie up so high? Did they see my underwear?’

Bruce's faint smile and Clark's gentle expression might have brought you ease, but the situation was too strange.

‘Why was my nightie been untied and opened? Why was it so far up my legs? Did one of them do it?’

The idea was...absurd. But what else would have happened? You were not in the habit of sleepwalking. You tied your nightie closed and quickly sat up, looking at the two men.

“I um…Is...something wrong, Dad?” you asked oh so innocent and naively as you sat up, feeling Bruce’s thick blue cotton blankets under your body. Bruce’s large and callused hand gently grasped your upper arm, softly stroking it as if to comfort you. His kind smile stayed on his face, unmoving even as he shook his head. His quiet demeanour continued to soothe you with each moment, despite the overwhelming emotions swirling through your mind.

“Nothing is wrong sweetheart, you-…” he breathed, his other hand caressing your cheek. Your step-father was an affectionate man, giving your mother and you hugs often whenever you wanted them, but in all these years...he had never caressed your cheek like this. His thumb ran softly over your lips intimately.

Briefly turning your head to inspect Clark, you found there was nothing about his body language denoting immediate danger. He even leaned in slightly and rested a hand on your knee, shifting even closer toward you.

You sighed softly in comfort...until he said, “You...Don’t need to be afraid....”

Your eyes widened, “Be afraid of what?” you asked. Like some strange horror, the dotes were slowly connecting. The air around you felt taut. You were confused and even Clark could hear how your heart was beating faster, anxiously. Your lips parted slightly, but what could you say, surely they weren’t going to…were they? Why were they looking at you in that way? Why did they look so...hungry?

Bruce smiled and leaned in, placing a kiss on your forehead directing your attention back to him. Without answering your question, he tilted your chin up and sealed his lips over yours in a gentle kiss, his lips pressing against you in a firm manner.

Your eyes popped wider as you suddenly pulled away from the kiss. While other boys had given you tender kisses before in your youth, none had done it quite as passionately as Bruce, your own step-father. His kiss was gentle yet deep, unlike anything you had experienced before. The sensation of his tongue inside your mouth and the minty flavour of his breath filled your senses, making you feel both awkward and ashamedly excited.

Having predicted the situation, Clark quickly got behind you. You felt his thick toned arms snaked around you in a caging hug, holding you firmly in place. Bruce smiled and put his hands on your hips, leaning in and quickly resuming the contact of your lips. You couldn’t lift your arms to shove him away. Your head was pressed against Clark’s chest, unable to break free although you wiggled about furiously, trying to move to the side.

Clark's arms held you in place firmly, pinning your own arms. His hands were spread across your chest and stomach, while his mouth pressed against the shell of your ear.

“Good girl,” he praised, “Stay nice and still for Daddy and me hm?”

He ducked his nose a deeper and traced his lips along your soft skin, kissing along the shape of it as Bruce deepened his seductive French kissing for a moment before breaking it. You had been unable to break it since his hands cupped your face. A soft whimper escaped your lips as Clark started licking along your earlobe, and you gasped softly when he suddenly blew on the wet trail he had just left.

“Easy baby, you need to calm down… Please,” Clark whispered softly, kissing your neck and ear as Bruce placed light kisses along your cheek.

Your step-father smiled and pinched the front of your nightie down and open just a bit to expose your shoulders and collar bone, which he lavished in more wet kisses.

The attention being given to you by both men were gentle, but the whole situation was frightening to you. You knew you should’ve tried to bite their ears, but how could you harm them? The two men you cared about? The man stroking you was your step-father, how could he want to do this? And more importantly, how could Clark just let it happen?

“Please,” you jerked your head back, fruitless from breaking away from their searing kisses, “Let me go...I need to sleep...” you whimpered softly.

“Sh- shh-hh...” Bruce shushed hotly, suckling gently upon the part where your neck met your shoulder. The skin there was sensitive, and you gave a soft cry when you felt him nip gently.

“... D-dad, Clark I-, please...don’t” you whimpered. You turned your head to look up at Clark, looking for an answer. Clark merely gave you that warm, wide smile and captured your lips, closing his eyes as he kissed you with a gentle passion.

Your lashes fluttered, his lips were soft and he was not nearly as forceful as Bruce. He coaxed you to comply. The tiniest of moans left your mouth and filled his.

You shifted again as your step-father worked at your nightie, tugging it open some more. You gave out a weak mewl when Clark broke the kiss. You trembled under Bruce’s dancing fingers.

“Did- did I do something wrong? Why are you doing this to me?” you asked, the corners of your eyes watered. Had your step-father been expecting you to say ‘yes’ to Clark? Was he mad at you? Why was he also here kissing you like this?

This was your own step-father, the man who had raised you since you were fourteen. The man that had married and fucked your own mother. The betrayal felt like a deep and sharp cut. Is this how he saw you? Just some girl he could manipulate when she was of consenting age? You felt sick...and angry. It was practically incest, it was an abomination!

You could barely contain the whimpers and spurting tears rising.

Your question was ignored as the two men made short work of your entire dress, two pairs of hands removing it while keeping your restrained. You could barely contain your squeals when the fabric ripped. Bruce grunted as he tore through and tugged the damn thing from your goosebump skin.

Clark's hands caressed your belly while Bruce's moved to cup your breasts.

Bruce gave a shuddering breath and weighed them in his hands. They were so soft and succulent. He had dreamed of doing this to you many times, for so long during your sweet innocent hugs he’d sneakily brush his fingers against your chest whenever he could to steal and imagine how great your tits would one-day feel in his hands.

All of his expectations were met, and exceeded. And there was still more to see, to explore.

“Please, tell me! Why!?” you demanded. Clark's grip on your arms were gentle but very firm, and you could not scratch either of them. Bruce smiled at you fondly. He cupped your cheeks again and cooed.

“You have done absolutely nothing wrong babygirl. This isn't a punishment. See... We both want you to know how much we love you,” his face leant for and licked at your salty cheek.

“And it’s not like you have a good reason to say no to Daddy and I.” Clark whispered while Bruce fondled your breasts, pinching the hard nipples between his fingertips in a careful way. Clark peered down at what his friend was doing and observed your soft breasts. He was eager for his own turn to feel them, but he was not going to rush his friend. They had agreed to share and be fair about it, and he knew Bruce was a man of his word.

“… No good reason to say no?” you asked, your heart pounding, although your question was barely more than a whisper. They both nodded. Clark smiled and kissed your cheek before touching his nose against it in a loving nuzzle.

He cupped and massaged one breast, giving a brief nod to his friend before shifting his eyes towards your other breast.

Clark moved one hand and took your right breast, which Bruce had offered, and began to fondle it while Bruce played with your left one. Bruce was firmer in his kneading, and Clark was gentle as his fingers skimmed along the underside of the mound, as if he was afraid of hurting you. Both hands felt so good on you, and you squirmed around, afraid to submit to any pleasure from this shocking situation.

“Please... please, let me go. I promise I won’t tell anyone about this, not even Alfred, please let me go now. Let me go. Leave me alone! I'm your step-daughter! Bruce! Y-you’re meant to be my Dad!” you pleaded, trying to get through to your step-father as he gave your breast a very firm, although not painful squeeze.

Bruce chewed his bottom lip and moved away. He got off the bed and watched his best friend touch you. He tugged at his tie and unbuttoned his blouse. His chest was covered in dark and silvery hairs. He fiddled with his belt buckle. His trousers fell to his ankles. His hand dove into his briefs.

Your eyes flooded with more tears. You were staring at Bruce’s erection.

“Come on princess...You know we won’t hurt you. Ever... Don’t be scared, relax, enjoy and be a good little girl…” Bruce said softly, climbing back on the bed he reached out and started caressing your arms.

You couldn’t help it, you screamed and tried to kick your step-father away with your legs as hard as you could. You hated that you had to hurt him like this. Clarks heavy hand clamped down on your squealing mouth

Bruce shook his head, slapping your kicking heels away. His lips curled into a mean sneer as he leant forward and tweaked your nipples, sending a jolt of pain through your chest.

You yelled out behind Clarks hand, trying to bite down on his palm. He didn’t flinch once. His nose flared, he was a little irritated with your teeth sinking into his skin.

“Better stop screaming sweetheart or Daddy’s going to have to put a gag in that little mouth of yours,” Bruce ground between his gritted teeth.

Your pleas were not doing the trick, and your desperate kicks weren’t either. They both played with your breasts and Bruce chuckled, drawing your nipple into his mouth and sucking firmly on the hard nub.

Clark bodily drifted his hand down between your legs, touching your duckling and creeping down further to your damp crotch. His fingers strong and hard, lazily rubbed in circles. Both of them seemed acutely aware of the pleasure that you were feeling at their attention even as you pleaded with them and tried to deny it. It only spurred them on and made them want your more.

“Daddy, stop it!” you wailed, “This is wrong and you know it too Clark!” you flung yourself backwards and tried to push the other male off you.

The man let your nipple free and looked into you's eyes. It had been so long since you had called him 'Daddy', having abandoned it for 'Dad' or just 'Bruce' in later years.

“Pumpkin…” he said, grabbing your wrists, giving Clark enough time to move away. Bruce pushed you back hard onto the mattress and sat on your ankles, holding your wrists down as he clouded you in his body. He hovered above you. You trembled violently, weeping hard.

“This is going to happen, and there’s nothing you can do or say to stop it,” his head lifted, “You finished stripping Clark?” he asked.

Your eyes flashed up. Your point of you made the world appear upside down. Clark sat his glasses on the bed side table...it was the last thing he wore.

“Bottom drawer, there’s a roll of duct tape.”

Clark nodded and pulled it out. The colour surprised him ...it was pink. Clark planned to use it on you one way or another, no matter what

Bruce trailed his nose across your face and pressed his lips to your forehead, “Trust your Daddy. Have I ever done anything to you that proved harmful?” Bruce asked softly, his blue eyes filled with a pleading for your understanding. You fell silent as you slowly shook your head whimpering and breaking down at the tearing sound of the pink duct tape. Bruce pushed your wrists together. The sticky sensation bound around your wrists tightly. He had always been such a loving step-father. But this went past the bounds of a step-father.

“No... b-bu-tt this-s... we're n-not...d-daddy, y-youre meant to be m-m-my dad-daddy...” Your voice was breaking, a soft pathetic whine as you pleaded, “Clar-k h-elp me.”

Bruce’s eyes glanced up at Clark. A tiny nod. Another rip and the tape was pushed flat against your sobbing mouth.

Clark rejoined you both on the bed and held your hands down for Bruce as the man bent down taking your nipple into his mouth again, his tongue rubbing it firmly as he suckled. A chest rattling gasp was muffled behind the tape.

Clark held you, massaging your other breast. You started to feel the fiery tingle between your legs. You were a virgin, but you were not stupid, and had touched that special place before...shame filled your mind because truly how much of a monster were you for being aroused by... your own step-father?

Despite the pleasure, you were afraid. You wiggled against Clark, twisting your arms and whining softly.

Clark's hands were gentle yet firm, and he held you in place even as you twisted. He moaned softly against your neck, and you felt the underside of his arousal along side Bruce’s, both touching the outsides of your thighs.

"Bruce...I need her,” he whispered, “Let me fuck your precious princess?”

The older man corrected softly humming, “Our precious princess.”

The two strong men lifted you up slightly from your laying down. You tried weakly kicked at them again before feeling Bruce slap the inside of your thigh and point a stern finger at your face.

“Enough. Don’t make me throw you over my knee babygirl.”

You sniffled and started to hiccup behind the tape gag. The tiny jerks from your body every time you hiccupped made the men’s faces soften.

You were forced to sit up on your knees and lay forward against Bruce’s chest. When Clark tugged your hips backwards, your bum was angled to the sky while your stomach laid in Bruce’s lap, your legs at either side of his torso. This caused your chest to be nestled into Bruce's lap, your breasts pressed against the hard hot flesh of his cock. You were effectively sandwiched between them, and wiggled around, trying to not think about your step father’s cock touching your nipple and switching against your skin.

His large hands touched your shoulders and laid it on your head, patting your hair softly. Clark's hands were at your rear, rubbing and kneading the cheeks and parting them slightly as he felt the pert rump. A soft playful spank made you jump and whine. You started sobbing again, wiggling against the firm grip of your step-father as he tried to soothe you. One of Bruce's hands cupped his cock and rubbed his precum into your swollen nipples.

You tried to kick at Clark as you felt his hands on the waistband of your panties, and you turned your face away from your step-father's throbbing erection that Bruce was raising to rub along your wet salty cheek. You tried to use your hands as leverage.

How was you supposed to get out of this situation? It was clear what they wanted to do and also clear that they would not be deterred. The combined forces of two fully-grown men, strong super humans at that, against that of a young woman, was quite overwhelming. They were not letting your go, and that was that. Bruce chuckled as Clark slid his step-daughter's panties down, exposing your pert ass. Clarks mouth looked dry...his tongue flicked out.

It was rather a lovely sight for Clark, and he sighed contentedly as he reached down to stroke your lower lips. You moaned softly, you used your knees to get away and to launch yourself up Bruce’s body. You managed to bury your face against your step-father's chest and the crease of his armour as you felt Clarks hot breath along your little glistening slit.

Soon Clark's fingers rose up to pet your wet pussy. He caressed the throbbing mound gently, fingers slowly pulling apart your slick nether lips. With one arm, he hooked it under your stomach and lifted your hips, forcing you back up higher on your knees. This allowed him to see your womanhood more clearly.

“How's it look?” Bruce asked calmly, stroking your hair and back in an attempt to soothe you, forgetting his own throbbing arousal for the moment as he tried to quieten your sobs.

“Ohh, Bruce, our little girl is so perfect,” he moaned, grinning as he gently felt your inner flesh with a finger. Your inner flesh peeked out shyly from your outer lips, like the petals of a flower. Bruce could not help but chuckle at Clark’s response as he ran his fingers along your spine, feeling your twitch and hearing a soft shudder come from the tape gag. He pressed his lips to your brow and hummed.

“Yea darlin’,” he broke into his relaxed southern drawl, “You goin’ tell daddy about how you probably used his credit card to wax this pretty pussy?”

Bruce’s eyes widened. His jaw dropped as he looked down at your eyes, pleading up at him wetly.

“It’s a real sculpted love heart...now who on earth is this for huh? Only little sluts get groomed like this,” Clark sat up and leant of you and Bruce. His lips pressed to the corner of your tapped lips, “Are you a little slut baby girl.”

Muffled sobs emanated from the girl as you pressed your face against your step-father’s chest and Clark paused. The men exchanged smirks.

“Have you let some boy fuck this cute hole Baby girl?” Clark breathed, softly, a mocking tone to his voice. He touched your side with his free hand, the other remaining at your mound but being idle, the finger now pulled out. Bruce looked down and gently tilted his step-daughter's chin up to look into your eyes. You looked very lovely with tear-stained cheeks, you had never looked more beautiful his eyes. His hand slowly ran along your cheeks, wiping your tears as he looked down at your tenderly.

“Sweetheart...My lovely little girl. You’re not in trouble, tell us the truth...” he said, softly, caressing your face. Clark bit his lip gently and resumed stroking your rear and your thighs, soon going back to rubbing your hot folds. There was no denying the pleasure, and he felt wetness.

You whimpered softly as you shook your head no while you succumbed under the gentle assault of four hands, all caressing and touching you in the most intimate and gentle of ways.

It was strange, they were not supposed to be doing this and you had been trying to fight them off. And despite all the fear, despite all the rough man handling, despite their mean mockery and degrading humiliation...your groin felt alive....You felt good,

You glanced back over your shoulder at Clark. He met your eyes and smiled. He pressed his lips to your forehead while his fingers were stroking and rubbing your intimate areas in a way that caused your to become wetter.

You hadn’t noticed how your crying was being replaced by snotty sniffling, and mewling moans.

Bruce smiled down at you when you turned your head back to him.

You felt his hand cup your bicep, pulling your bound hands up. You stretched your fingers. He held up his erection and pointed it to your palms

“Touch me baby,” he encouraged softly, “I trust you.”

You whimpered softly and shook your head, giving a sudden gasp with wide eyes as one of Clark’s fingers wiggled into you.

“Please...?” he purred lowly, smiling as Clark pressed second one inside and slowly scissor your insides. You let out a low shuddering moan as your step-father gently grasped your wrist, leading your hand to the swollen cock. Clark continued sliding his fingers in and out of you, before adding a third. Your walls clamped and tightened. You let out a soft hiss and were unable to stop yourself from pushing against Clark’s hand. The man then angled his fingers as he thrust them in slowly, causing them to press against a spongy place on your inner wall that sent shockwaves of pleasure through your body.

Bruce smiled, his hand cupping over your bound hands so you were forced to grasp the base of his erection. You tried to remove your hand – but of course, to no avail. His thick rod was very warm and solid, you made a small noise as you felt it throb under your hand. You squirmed slightly under Clark’s attention, finding it difficult to breathe as a wave of pleasure washed over you.

Clark peppered a flood of gentle kisses along your soft cheeks as he thrust his fingers into you. Your step-father released a soft moan.

Your hand tightened and rubbed your step-fathers shaft weakily. Your shuddering breaths and fluttering eyes told Bruce everything he need to know about how well Clark was treating their special girl.

Your fingers slowly slid up and down the shaft several times, before you wrapped your fingers around it more firmly and did just as he guided, pumping it slowly and seeing the head seep with a bit more precum. His head tilted back a bit and he gave a low groan of pleasure. You looked up at him and saw how much he liked it, then whimpered, it was so strange how you could have the power all of a sudden. Curiosity, getting the best of you as you looked down at it. It was impressive-looking, and you were becoming slowly bemused to think that he wanted to put this in you.

You pumped more firmly, looking up at your step-father's face intently. He was no longer holding your down, so you pulled herself up just a bit, Clarks fingers followed you as you weakly tried balancing up and off Bruce’s chest. You continued your firm pumping of your step-father's engorged member. Now the taboo excitement of watching him moan and dig his nails into the bed sheets made you conclude that you were getting a thrill out of all this. It made you wonder if there was something wrong with you just as much as there was something wrong with him.

At fourteen, who could deny that little sweet highschooler you had a big crush on your step dad before it developed into crushing on his journalist friend Clark Kent, the very man with three digits up your sweet silky hole.

It was time. You could definitely not ignore the pleasure you felt from Clark, who was working slowly and tenderly at your throbbing sex.

You whined, arching your hips, your toes curling and flexing, something Clark found cute. He chuckled to himself, trailing his free hand along the back of one of your thighs.

Bruce’s hand rose up and grabbed your wrists, he pulled them away to gently stop you. He knew he wanted to cum inside of you.

You looked up at him in surprise and your eyebrows furrowed in curiosity, seeing him smiling kindly at you. Bruce pressed his lips against your forehead and chuckled.

“Are you trying to be a good girl now?” he asked touching the corner of the tape on your mouth.

You sniffled and nodded, moaning when Clark pulled his fingers out to trail down and rub into your pearlling clit.

He smiled, “Alright,” he whispered, “This is going to hurt-“ he said ripping off the tape before he finished his own sentence.

You yelped and hissed.

“Sorry baby girl,” he apologised.

Bruce then leant back against the pillows and watched you succumb to pleasure from Clarks speedy fingers. Your bound hands laid flat on Bruce’s chest, steading you from falling. Your fingers brushed and rubbed along his hairy chest.

Bruce cupped your waist and held you firm as he gazed at you showing your curious exploration. It was then he realised, you were touching some of his scars, covered by hair. Your eyes were growing softer...glassy...he couldn’t believe his luck...you looked the same as you did when you kissed him after your mothers death. If only he knew this was some sort of trance, a head space you were in all those years ago, he would’ve fucked you then.

Clark slid his fingers out of your and licked them clean. The pair, rolled you over onto your back.

You calmly glanced back at your step-father for a moment before returning your attention to the taller man, who was in a similar state of arousal as your step-father.

“My sweet little girl...” Bruce purred before kissing you deeply, his lips locking around yours passionately. Finally you found yourself leaning closer and meeting his same force. The wet sounds of your mouth and moans clouded any remaining sanity left in your mind. Your bound arms found their way around his neck, and he continued kissing you.

Clark waited patiently, knowing that he would have the soon enough, and watched as his friend lovingly cradled his step-daughter, continuing the hungry attentions. You were unable to resist kissing him back just as fiercely.

Soon your tongues came into the dance, with Bruce quickly gaining dominance, a sweet whine escaping you.

Clark smiled, and began to rub his shaft slightly. Bruce pulled away and pushed your bound hands off his neck. He shuffled your face to the side, pushing you to Clarks arms.

With bold confidence, you pushed up onto your knees and laid your loud hands behind his neck, pressing your lips to his. He playfully growled as your tongues fought, you lost and he hummed happily, eagerly exploring your sweet little mouth, his arms tightening around your body.

After a few more long moments of the passionate kiss, he broke it before licking up the strand of saliva that bridged your panting tongues. He grinned at you. You smiled and stared at him for a moment before looking down shyly. He saw this demure action and smirked.

“What’s wrong princess, still scared?” he asked softly, nuzzling your cheek. You continued looking down shyly. You had thought of asking Bruce who was watching you both, what your mother would have thought of what he was doing to his step-daughter, but you had no doubt that he had already thought of that.

Bruce cupped your waist and lowered his lips to your shoulders. His erection pushed against the swell of your ass.

Carefully you were pushed back onto the mattress. Bruce came up to put your head in his lap, languidly stroking your hair and cheeks as Clark rubbed your thighs. The man you had admired for so long spread them, eyeing your shuddering sex hungrily. Your body froze up, stiffening as it sunk in what was truly coming you squirmed around, pressing your knees together. You looked up at Clark pleadingly.

He sighed, disappointed. He leant behind him, reaching for the duct tape....was he going to duct tape your legs spread wide.

You panicked, “Are you doing this because I did not accept your marriage offer?”

“No.” he paused and didn’t grab the tape at all. He leant down and softly, kissed your lips chastely. Bruce leant down sand cupped the back of your knees, pulling them up and spreading them wide.

You shivered.

Clark touched your cunt gently and spread you open again. His face pushed forward, leaning in and licked from the bottom to the top of your slit. You had a sharp gasping intake as you felt the gentle licking there and you pushed his head away gently. Clark leaned back in and continued to lick you, lapping at the sweet wet with his thick tongue, resisting as you pushed at his head – although your pushes were fairly weak.

“You’re not being punished,” Bruce repeatedly assured you as if he read your mind, stroking your cheeks. Clark continued to lap at you.

“We just both think this would be a bit of....encouragement for you to stay baby,” Bruce purred, tweaking one of your nipples playfully.

You grizzled, “To st-stay?” your hips jerked a little as Clark sucked harder on your clit, your legs still held wide open by Bruce’s strong hands.

“Honey,” Clark murmured into your cunt, staring up at you with eyes that were mixed with lust, adoration and worship, “You don’t need to go to college when you have me and your daddy to heel you happy.”

Your voice caught in your throat, you couldn’t believe it...this was why? To keep you away from going to school? You bit your bottom lip. You would’ve been devastatingly hurt but with his tongue slipping inside and licking deep into your whole, you tossed your head backwards onto Bruce’s shoulder, crying out as a orgasm waved through your body.

“Clark, you can take her first,” Bruce softly granted.

“We can look at that sweet asshole another day and then,” your step father licked the shell of your ears whispering, “You’ll be allowed to fuck two big cocks at once down there.”

Clark got on his knees between your legs and Bruce steadied you, taking your hands into his own and squeezing them reassuringly before he let go. His large hands massaged your breasts, and reached down to rub your clit slowky as you felt Clark position himself, gently rubbing your slit with his tip. It had opened up to him through all of the loving attention, and was glistening with wetness.

Your eyes widened.

“Don’t… we shouldn’t…” you whispered, “Y-youre not wearing a condom.”

Bruce’s hands tightened around your wrists and lifted them pulling them backward to hook on his own neck. Your chest was so pushed up.

“It’s okay baby, we don’t need a condom,” Clark moaned, caressing your cheeks before his hands travelled down to your sides. He smiled kindly at you, and you found herself smiling back faintly, looking into his ice-blue eyes. You shivered as he slowly lowered himself, and the head of his cock gently nudged at your slit. You tensed a little, but felt your step-father massage your clit.

You gasped and arched a little when Clark penetrated you, and your step-father continued stroking you in a languid yet firm manner, his touches did much to soothe the passage and help you relax. You looked up at your Bruce for a moment, then back at Clark. Bruce tenderly caressed your cheeks and arms, while Clark's hands stroked along your sides. He was moving slowly, letting your get used to his girth, for he was almost as thick as his best friend. The wetness made it possible for him to move quite smoothly within you, and it was also so inviting.

It was tight and yes it was uncomfortable but with the support of Bruce’s hand, in no time, he was sheathed fully, and you stared up at him quietly feeling his balls pressed into your soft ass. He was heavy inside you, an unexpected pressure. The tip poked the sponge of your womb.

There was a few frightful seconds where all of you were silent save for your soft breathing. Bruce glanced at the tape, prepared to hear your screaming again...but it didnt come. And then Clark smiled lovingly down at you, comforting you at that moment, before leaning in and kissing your cheek.

“How do you feel?” he asked. You shyly huffed even more, but kept your eyes on him. You couldn’t decide whether to smile or grimace.

“I don't know. I... feel very full...” you replied softly, feeling Bruce’s fingers brush along your forehead.

Clark lifted your ankles up onto his shoulders and took a deep breath.

“The best part is yet to come, my sweet angel,” Bruce promised. Clark smiled, and began to gyrate his hips, sliding his shaft in and out of your tight cunt in a languid manner. The reaction was immediate. His cock dragged along your sensitive walls, and Bruce smiled as he watched his sweet little step-daughter squirm around in pleasure. Soon enough, he himself would be doing that to you.

Clark released a deep groan, clearly in bliss as he thrust into you. His speed was tempered and gentle, languorous, making sure that the length of his dick dragged along your gspot with each thrust to create that glorious friction. He wanted your first time to be something deep and tender. And it was working. You hissed and flexed your back into Bruce feeling Clarks entire cock within you as you clenched hard. It had hurt a little at first, but there was no denying the pleasure to be had, and the gentle caresses were doing much to heighten your experience.

“Sh-shit shit shit, oh my god, Clark! Clark I’m-”

Clarks gentle lovemaking pushed you towards your glorious shouting orgasm, and you cried out when you hit it, arching up against him, clenching around him almost painfully. You had ever felt anything so wonderful in your whole life! Bruce smiled as he saw this, and leaned down to place kisses along his mewling step-daughter’s face, massaging your breasts as he did so.

“Isn’t it wonderful, babygirl? Doesn’t it feel so good?” Bruce asked warmly. All you could do was nod. Clark shot you a charming smile, thrusting more firmly now, and he whispered your name when he finally came. Your clenching drew it out, and multiple shots of his seed squirted deep inside of you, filling your up.

Clark placed firm kisses along your face, remaining within your hot pussy for a few more moments. You turned your face towards him, nuzzling him back, as your lips peppered his cheeks, Clark started grinning happily. A few moments passed, some tender caresses, before Bruce chuckled and shifted. Clark looked up at him and smiled, sliding out of you a little too quickly. You whimpered pitifully at the stinging sensation of being emptied.

Clark laid beside you on his side as Bruce moved down the bed to inspect the mess his friend had created. Clark kept his eyes on you, he shot you another reassuring smile before propping your head up with his arm. He laid there relaxed and enjoying the waving endorphins made from his orgasm, still reeling from the pleasure that your sweet noises and tight pussy had given him.

Bruce gently rolled you onto your belly. Your cheek still pressed into the pillow made of Clarks bicep.

“On your knees, baby, stick that ass up for Daddy…” Bruce whispered. You huffed and wiggled your hips up, propping you up on your knees. It was a lovely sight, and he rubbed your behind, kneading the cheeks lovingly as he glanced at your swollen and glistening sex.

“Good girl,” he rumbled, patting your back softly.

You moaned softly, knowing what your step-father was about to do. At this point, you had given up on fighting off the two men, especially because it felt so good. You rested your head against Clark and sighed, staring at his eyes that gazed you lovingly. With is other hand, Clark stroked your face and hair softly as you awaited for your step-father to take you, your heart thundered with anticipation.

Bruce took a moment to admire the glorious vision before him. Your sweet pussy glistened, dripping and dribbling out the creamy white Clark had squirted deep inside. Your outer lips were swollen from the recent coupling you had. Your rear end glowed under the light of the bedroom lamp, looking so plump and inviting.

“You’re so gorgeous, princess. How Clark and I resisted you for this long, god only knows,” Bruce chuckled and rubbed your bum.

You gave out a soft but contented sigh before he was pressing the head of his needy pole against his your slit, rubbing it up and down the opening a few times. You moaned softly and squirmed a little, but made no real attempt to flee.

Bruce grabbed your hips and gave a strong thrust, his cock sliding inside of you to the base with little effort despite your tightness. You whimpered out softly, in slight pain but more in surprise, and looked over your shoulder at your Step-father again.

Clark wolfishly grinned at you, as Bruce’s hips immediately thrusting back and forth. He pounded into you, hard and fast, your body quivering under him.

Clark’s lovemaking had been languorous and gentle, more than suitable for your first time. But Bruce’s way of taking you was savage and primal. Despite it...you found yourself enjoying this as well. It was rough and deeply bruising. You would be able to feel it tomorrow.

Bruce was not hurting you, it was not unbearable agony as he slammed his hips fiercely. Clark watched with half-lidded eyes, listening to your whines and touching your face every now and then as if to reassure you.

Bruce punched his cock into you with the ferocity of an animal in heat. You were so wonderfully tight and hot that it was impossible to just hold back.

“F-Fuck, Daddy!!!”

The way you responded to him, arching towards him and making small sounds of pleasure and mewls of pain only spurred him on even more. His heavy balls slapped against the back of your thighs, and you strangled around him with your walls. He gave out a low growl as he cummed, creaming deep inside.

You whimpered out another heightened, ‘Daddy!’ as your body quivered, your teeth chattering just slightly.

You bit your lip almost hard enough to cause it to bleed as you hit another orgasm, your eyes rolled back and clenching around him hard, trapping his cock inside with your tightness.

You looked at your step-father over your shoulder as he continued thrusting in you, his cock remained erect for a few moments before slowly becoming flaccid. You looked over at Clark then back at Bruce, whimpering out 'Daddy' again as you felt cum dribble down your opening. He stayed within your cunt for a while, panting as he relaxed his muscles. Smirking, he pulled out of your tightness and stroked your rump.

“Good girl baby...”

You remained on your knees for several more moments, cum still dribbling out a little as he traced his fingers along the firm curve of your rear end. What you had been through was unbelievable. You had just been dominated and fucked by the two men you cared most about in the world...one of them was your step-father. It seemed almost too impossible to believe, like it all had to been some sick dream- any moment you would wake up to find yourself alone, dressed, inside your own bed....But did you want this to be a dream?

The more you thought, the less sick it seemed to be...morally it was wrong...but at the end of the day, you weren’t related and Bruce was sure to take care of you just like he always had along with your own mother. Your mother might not have approved if she was alive...but...there was nothing she could do now.

And Clark was just as caring and understanding of your passions....So both clearly loved you, very much....

You felt Clark caress your cheek once more, and you looked to him as your hips fell down limp. He offered you a smile before leaning over to press his lips to your forehead.

“You did so well darlin’.”

You shyly smiled, feeling Bruce lay down behind you.

You felt Bruce slide something cold between your wrists and slice through the pink tape.

Your eyes fluttered. You could hear Bruce put that sharp object most likely a knife in his bed side drawer.

He cupped your wrists and gently massaged them, kissing the raw area. He then scooped you up into his arms, holding you close, as if he wanted to rock you to sleep. You rolled onto your back and looked between them. They were two content lions gazing down at the sweet kitten in their bed. Both of them held pleased but loving expressions on their faces, and you smiled shyly a little and buried your nose in into the blue sweat soaked sheets. Under the gentle embrace and caresses, you closed your eyes.

You felt one of them, you didn’t know or care who, pull up a duvet, covering your quivering body. The men sighed happily at one another as you snuggled sweetly between them.

It was a fact to acknowledge with their cum growing dry on your thighs how they now would never let you go. They would take you in the morning, and whenever either of them pleased from then on. You were there’s...you belonged to them, and they would always do everything to prove their desire for you. You fell asleep in their embrace, you pressed your face into Clarks chest, while you pressed your backside into Bruce’s hips. snuggled up to both of them, while their affectionate caresses and whispers lulled you to sleep.

★★★

When morning arrived it was still pitch black thanks to the roll down tinted glass windows.

Bruce’s grey his eyes cracked awake slowly, to the sounds of your soft snoring. Your soft cheek was pressed against his chest after the night of shuffling you must’ve done in your sleep. ‘What a wonderfully sweet thing to wake up to,’ he thought, smiling as he traced his fingertips gently along your other cheek. He looked to his left at the big bulk of a man under the covers.

Clark was still sleeping, his arm was covering your hip. Your plump rear end was against his stomach, and Bruce smiled at you both.

Your sweet drooling face stirred slightly as your cheek was caressed, but you remained asleep. Being cushioned and cradled in the warmth of two big men had surprisingly helped you to sleep well, as you had been so comforted by the obvious affection they had shown you. If they didn’t care about you, they would have simply raped you bloody and never paid mind to your pleasure they never would’ve focused on your feelings and overall care.

Clark loved you and wanted to be your husband, he had been serious when he asked for your hand in marriage. It was in the plan but Bruce knew Clark wanted to ask ages ago...

And Bruce loved you too, he wanted your utmost happiness but he desired your overall safety and company. If you left for college he wouldn’t know when he’d see you again...if ever...considering you held no real “blood” obligation to him.

Clark and he were good friends, and sharing you had been a odd thought at first, but last night proved that it would work out well between the three of you. And it was very comfortable, and would continue to be comfortable – after all, both of them wanted your happiness, love and companionship.

Bruce pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“Wake up, baby girl, it’s daddy...” he whispered into your ear, gently nibbling along your earlobe. Your eyelids fluttered open and you whimpered softly, a bit disoriented at first as was common on waking up in a place so different to your bedroom but the disorientation faded as you rubbed your eyes and turned your head upwards a bit to look up at the eyes of your doting step-father smiling softly down at you.

“Good morning, Daddy...” you said softly, wiping the sleep away from your eyes and blinking a few times as you felt a hand caress along your hip, you didn’t know who it belonged to, but did that even matter?

“Good morning, sweet angel... Did you sleep alright?” he asked, caressing your hair. Clark stirred but did not wake. You shyly nodded. Last night was beyond taboo and though you were not entirely angry or disgusted, it would take a bit getting used to.

“I am glad...” Bruce replied before he chuckled softly and fondled your side. He looked over at Clark and smiled.

“...Will you marry him?” he whispered, kissing your cheek. You stared at him for a few moments before nodding slowly. You did not see why not – Clark was a good man and you had no interest in anyone else.

Bruce nodded, smiling happily. He was ecstatic that you had accepted Clark’s hand, and now you would be truly a family inside Wayne’s manor.

“What about you, Daddy?” you asked softly as your step-father’s hand gently caressed your side, “....Don’t you want me anymore,” your eyes glanced away in embarrassment considering how pathetic you sounded asking....

“Mmm,” he pecked the tip of your nose, “Clark and I already discussed this...I would like to keep our closeness when you are wed... Clark and I have shared many passions in the past...towards each other and it does not bother him.”

Your eyes started to widen. You didn’t know your step-dad was just as sexually active with men.

“He really agrees to this? You two... have no problem with... sharing?” you whispered as you rolled over onto your back to gain a more accurate gaze upon Bruce.

“Not at all...” he chuckled, “We are too good a pair of friends to fight over something wonderful like this as spectacular as you.” He stated.

You smiled and looked down shyly. He looked over at Clark once more and smirked almost deviously.

He reached out and playfully thumbed your nipples.

“Baby girl, it looks like Clark is a heavy sleeper...how about you go and wake him up for me?” His tone was seductive, and low. You could see from the corner of your eyes the two hardening peaks growing out of the bed sheets.

Bruce pushed his side down and cupped himself, using his enclosed first like a sight hole.

“C’mon baby, go wake up your other daddy,” he groaned.

You gasped and flushed even more as you stated at your step-father for several moments before carefully crawling over to Clark again.

You placed a gentle kisses along his face, saving his lips for last. Your hand caressed along his smooth chest, slowly making its way down to his morning organ. His nipples were given attention, your fingers teasing over the pink nubs and making them taut. Your palm felt along the toned muscles of his abdomen, and stroked the coarse dark hair above his cock, teasing your fingers along the treasure trail. The thin hairs had started as a thin, tapering line several inches below his navel, and spread out gradually to the thatch over his cock.

Bruce watched calmly, not at all bothered by his friend’s nakedness. He did not stare at Clark either, he just watched with interest at what you, his step-daughter was doing. You had such a lovely soft hand. You slowly patted the neither hairs as you started sucking on Clark’s angry red tip.

You flattened your tongue and looked over, making full eye contact with Bruce While he jerked off languishingly. He smirked and winked at you.

“Suck his cock babygirl, suck Papa’s cock.”

Papa...Daddy...oh god...what were you getting yourself into.

You leant your face down, filling your cheeks with the tip of his pink cock tip. Your tongue raised around the skin and flicked under the folds. You tried not to think about the smell but the taste alone. It was bitter, salty and a little tangy.

“M-mmh...” Clark let out a soft noise of pleasure, face blissfully slack. His manhood stirred and began to rise a bit, the touches arousing him even when he slept.

“Clarkkkkk...” Bruce cooed in a soft purr, gently touching his shoulder while you lapped at his foreskin, and Bruce started growing aroused, wanting to stick himself inside of you as he had a grand view of your little cunt, dried with flakes of white on your skin.

At the mention of his name, the man stirred and opened his eyes, smiling a bit, raising a hand to lazily wipe the sleep from his eyes.

“A-ah...Good morning...” he said, blurrily looking down at what you were doing. You smiled sweetly and placed a gentle kiss on his tip as you brought him to full attention.

“Clark?” you asked softly.

“Yes sweetheart?...hngh...” he shuddered, shifting a bit, his cock rising further. Bruce shivered, running his fingertips along your rear.

“I will be your wife,” You whispered softly. He tilted his head, and a wide grin came to his face. Hooking one arm around your arm he tugged you up to him to abandon you morning blowjob. He sealed his lips over yours in a gentle kiss. When you parted, he purred.

“Thank you sweet girl, I vow to always cherish you like last night and every encounter we’ve met.” His words made you giggle happily, as you had no real doubt of his respect for you.

He heard the fwapping sound of Bruce masturbating, watching you.

“Have you talked Bruce?” he added.

Your lashes fluttered.

“I accept him as well. I...I will stay home. College can wait or I can try online courses...You can both have me,” You whispered. Bruce ran a fingertip along your slit. You shivered and moaned, wiggling your rear end at Bruce as you kissed Clark again, your hand returned to slowly pumping his engorged organ.

Bruce smiled, he rubbed your slit gently and lazily, feeling the flesh quiver a bit and begin to slicken up. Clark moaned softly into your lips and his hand moved down, cupping one of your breasts and carefully kneading it, plucking at your nipples. You gave out a soft whine of pleasure and looked at Clark for a moment before looking back at Bruce.

“Daddy...” You pouted, “...stop teasing me.” You reached out to his cock with your other hand. In each palm you held two thick cocks at the same time and went about squeezing and licking them like a game....unwittingly teasing them both to release. The men both gradually sat up on their elbows. Before either of them could cum however, you let their cocks go and sat back, facing them with a childish smirk, biting your lip.

If they wanted to be depraved, you could be too...you wondered if they’d tie and gag you again. Would they pushed you around manhandle and humiliate you again?...a real sensational thrill soaked your bones at the thought. What a fantastic opportunity to test that theory...

You didn’t leave that room for probably three whole days except to use the master bathroom...

Alfred decided not to intervene.. after all it was Master Wayne he was paid by, not you.

#milky moots #DFD #daddys final deal #dead dove do not eat #dead dove fic #henry cavill x female reader #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x y/n #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x ofc #clark kent x black!reader #clark kent x reader #clark kent x bruce wayne #clark kent x you #clark kent x female reader #bruce wayne x fem!reader #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne x poc!reader #bruce wayne x black!reader #superman x batman #superman x reader #superman x you #batman x reader #batman x superman

[formerly-geraltshumblebard]

in the season 3 finale geralt gets beaten up so bad he becomes australian

#geralt of rivia #jaskier x geralt #geralt x jaskier #the witcher #witcher #witcher wild hunt #dandelion #yennefer of vengerberg #geraskier #jaskier #joey batey #henry cavill #liam hemsworth #jaskier hc #geraskier hc #witcher hc #witcher fic #geralt of rivia fic #gerlion #geraskier gif #yennefer imagine #yennefer #witcher icons #henry cavill geralt #henry cavill hc #henry cavill fic #liam hemsworth witcher

[sherlocksoft]

Send You To Sleep Satisfied

Geralt x reader drabble

Summary: Geralt can’t sleep. Rather than settling for a restless a night, you offer an easy (and rather more pleasurable) solution.

Author’s notes: This is set at no specific time and has no particular context. I just wanted to give Geralt some comfort. Y’know, in a sexy way.

Warnings/content: nsfw - smut, handjob, gn!reader, exhausted and needy Geralt, extra lil gif at the end 🖤

A large hand slid roughly over your stomach followed by a heavy, muscular arm snaking around your waist and dragging you swiftly backwards.

‘Geralt!’ you exclaimed, your heart racing before you realised it was him, ‘I was almost asleep! You startled me-’

‘M’sorry,’ came his muffled reply, his handsome nose already buried deep in your hair, nuzzling against the nape of your neck. He breathed you in, holding you close and sighing deeply. ‘Can’t sleep.’

Steadying your breath, you shifted within his firm embrace, smiling at the grunt of disapproval you elicited by taking away the comfort of your hair and your back pressed flush to his broad chest.

Another comfort soon replaced this, though.

‘I can help you with that,’ you cooed, watching with delight as his heavily lidded eyes slid shut at the warmth of your fingers slipping past the waistband his tight trousers.

A whispered little ‘Oh-’ slipped from between his pretty parted lips. ‘You… mmh… you don’t need to-’ It was hardly a protest, his voice heavy with lack of sleep yet laced with obvious desire.

You stilled then, his erection steadily growing harder against your now unmoving palm.

His eyes opened, sharp beneath a sudden frown. ‘You don’t need to, but… since you’ve started…’ A bead of precum oozed from his tip causing a whine to escape his throat before he could stop it. His eyes clenched tight shut in shame. ‘Don’t stop?’

A knowing smirk pulled at your lips. Geralt never could resist the promise of a good orgasm when the opportunity presented itself at such a perfect moment as this.

He was too tired to fuck. This, you knew. But you could pleasure him to sleep as he had done for you countless times, his elegant fingers or clever tongue or thick cock working their magic to soothe your exhausted body and allow your tired mind to rest.

Your fingers curled loosely around his length, pumping lazily to begin with, massaging his cock with a hint of tenderness that had him melting.

‘Shh, Geralt, focus on my touch. Float away on the sensation of your pleasure… let me send you to sleep satisfied, relaxed….’ you breathed, easing his tension away with your voice as much as your hand.

His strong fingers grasped at your arm, fingertips driving harder into your flesh as you wanked him faster. You hoped he’d leave bruises, marks you could show him tomorrow that might make him blush. He rarely blushed, but when a flush of crimson powdered his cheeks, it was certainly a pretty sight.

His hips began to rock in time to meet your movements and his breath grew heavy, interspersed with blissful moans. His cock throbbed inside your grip when your thumb swiped over the tip, collecting the thick offering of precum that had steadily built up there.

‘That’s it, I can feel it-’ you breathed, ‘let go.’

His forehead pressed to yours, breath hot and heavy and tingling against your cool lips as his muscles rapidly tensed, his toes curled and his back arched.

‘Fuck!’ he growled through gritted teeth as overwhelming surges of pleasure rushed through his core to bring about his release, and he repeated, in a much smaller voice as the rapture subsided, ‘… fuck…’

As his cock softened, sensitive with aftershocks, gently, you withdrew your hand and sealed your mouth to his.

‘We’ll bathe in the morning, love,’ you whispered with a smile against his lips, not caring a jot about the thick creamy rope that had made a mess of his trousers and stained your arm, sticky against your skin. ‘For now, sleep.’

Geralt grunted. The tell tale signs of sleep began to pull at his features as the rush of his climax fell away to lull him into a peaceful slumber.

He huffed, amused. ‘I’ve slept in worse conditions. Besides-’ a small yawn interrupted him, exhaustion and the bliss of post-orgasm haze slurring his speech slightly as he continued, slowly, ‘in the morning, before anything else… I will be busy… making you scream my name.’

And with that, the calming sound of his low snore took over; the heat that had pooled at your core content to remain there until morning. For now you watched him rest until you were dreaming yourself. You dreamed of him.

#not s f w 💀 #geralt of rivia #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt x reader #geralt of rivia smut #geralt smut #geralt comfort #geralt fic #henry cavill #sherlocksoft writes

[gummydummy19]

The bear and his honey

Summary: How grumpy Sy won your heart and you won his :))

Content Warnings: Fluff, sunshine x grumpy trope, smut (oral, fingering, piv, creampie, pet names, praise, hint of a size kink)

A/N: Look at that! I wrote another Sy fic! @omgkatinka sent me this: After that fic today I kept thinking about first dates with Sy. And how either epic or awful it would be if your first date was getting stuff from ikea and assembling the stuff together. I feel like that would either forge an unbreakable alliance or doom the connecton right away. But I really like the idea. and I LOVED IT so I included that in here as well :)) It's not their first date but I hope you still like it <3

Word Count: 4k+ (holy shit)

Like a little girl seeing a big teddy bear at the fair, you were sold when you first met Sy. There was something immediately comforting about him. He was quiet and a little grumpy, but he always treated you with respect. A real Southern gentleman, as they say.

It took a long time before he asked you out. You kept running into him at get-togethers, always being drawn to him from the second you walked in.

In the beginning, you worried you were coming on too strong, always sticking to his side, asking him questions, flirting with him...

One night your entire friend group got together again for a cookout and drinks around the fire. Everyone was perfectly tipsy and content, and when the conversation started taking a more juvenile turn, you heard something that made your cheeks feel warm.

"Oh come on, everyone knows Sy's got it bad for you!", Cory boomed, swinging around his beer.

"Shut up, Cory", you hushed him, dismissing it quickly. You tried to ignore the way your stomach fluttered at the idea of Sy being into you, but when you saw him blushing, (yes, blushing) on the other side of the fire you felt your heart swell.

After that night, you started getting more confident. You loved teasing him, always poking the bear. You tried to get a rise out of him every chance you got, knowing he had a soft spot for you.

Admittedly, you were having a fun time pushing his buttons, but after almost two weeks of flirty comments and hanging under his arm whenever you could, he still hadn't asked you out.

So after another night of teasing, flirting, a couple of debatably too-strong martinis, and what Cory called "canoodling" you finally hit your breaking point.

"Are you planning on asking me out? Like ever?", you blurted out.

Okay, those martinis were definitely too strong.

"Ya want me to?"

Is he joking?

He chuckled and you realised you said that last bit out loud.

That Friday he showed up on your doorstep at exactly 6pm, on the dot, and handed you a gorgeous bouquet of flowers.

You could tell he really made an effort. He was wearing a button-up shirt and what looked like a fresh, new pair of jeans.

"Oh Sy, these are beautiful!", you squealed, before pressing a chaste kiss to his fuzzy cheek, 'Let me go put them in water, and then we'll be on our way!'

He didn't say much, he just grumbled as you skipped about your apartment in your pretty little dress, like you didn't know exactly what you were doing to him.

He took you to the most expensive restaurant in town, where he briefly told you about his job and his family before casually shifting the conversation back to you.

You let your foot wander up his leg while you innocently told him about yourself, loving the way he startled when the waiter showed up.

Afterward, he walked you home and gave you a kiss on your cheek, just as innocent as the one you had given him before. You were a little disappointed when he didn't come in, but you decided to deem his chivalry as charming.

A week and a half later, he took you to the drive-in for your second date. They showed some old James Bond movie, the perfect combination of action and steamy romance as you cuddled closer to him in his truck.

During a particularly spicy scene, you let your hand wander up his thigh, but before you got to his crotch, he stopped you.

You looked up at him with a frown, but to your surprise, his eyes were still glued to the screen.

You felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment, thinking maybe you read the situation wrong. Maybe he just wanted to be friends? Maybe that's why he didn't kiss you last time? Why he didn't wanna come upstairs with you...

The nasty thoughts kept pouring in and you felt yourself spiral down. You shuffled away from Sy's embrace, gently moving to sit as far away from him as possible, half debating just getting out of the car completely.

'What's wrong?' Sy asked as he looked at you, sitting against the door of his truck.

"If you don't want me you can just say that Sy," you said bitterly, staring out the window.

When you heard him chuckle, you angrily snapped your head back to see if you were actually hearing it correctly.

"Oh, you think that's funny?" you spat.

You tried to open the door. You wanted to leave. To get as far away from him as possible, but the door was locked, and before you could protest, he wrapped his big arm around your waist and swiftly pulled you back against him.

You had no time to wriggle yourself out of his grip, because he moved his bearded face down to your ear and whispered, "You can't always get what you want, sugar."

You didn't know what to say. His actions had already confused you and now his words confused you even more.

He grinned at your puzzled look, grabbing your chin in his large paw.

"What do you want?" he asked calmly, looking straight into your eyes.

"You."

"You have me," he stated, making butterflies erupt in your stomach

"Doesn't fucking feel like it." you dared, keeping your voice low and your eyes away from his.

"Bratty little thing, aint ya?," he grinned, secretly a little proud at your ballsiness, tho he'd never admit it.

His grasp on your jaw tightened, making your eyes snap back at his.

"If you want something, you gotta ask nicely, sugar." he drawled, leaning in a bit closer, "Now, what do you want from me."

Your whole body felt like it was on fire. Your eyes darted from his gorgeous eyes down to his plush lips and back before you spoke, "A kiss, please."

A cheesy grin spread over his face and he loosened his grip on your jaw, moving his hand to cup the side of your face, gentle but firm.

He leaned in, his breath mingling with yours as he spoke, "Such a polite girl," before finally attaching his lips to yours.

That night you realized Sy wasn't as soft as you thought he was, in fact, he had quite the mean streak...

Another week of sweet texts and teasing phone calls later, you knew you were in deep.

Your third date wasn't even supposed to be a date. He took you for a walk in the park. You started holding his hand about halfway through the walk, with little intention of ever letting go.

It was meant to be a short stroll, just to get some air, but soon the sun started setting and your stomach started rumbling.

'Ya hungry? I know a good place nearby', he stated, pulling you closer against his side.

'Sy...I'm really not dressed for anything fancy...', you replied, knowing Sy's definition of 'a good place' when it came to you.

'Don't you worry sugar, you're dressed just fine', he grinned, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

20 minutes later you were standing at a food truck, being introduced as 'his girl' to one of his old army buddies wearing a 'kiss the cook' apron.

While you munched on your greasy food, Sy told you the truck had been there since last summer, after their last tour. He was there every week.

It wasn't hard to notice the way Sy shifted when he talked about his work. You didn't push or pry, you just listened, letting your thumb trace over his hand as he opened up to you. Funny, how this thing with a man you had only kissed once already felt like the most intimate relationship you'd ever been involved in.

Two weeks after your first kiss, you got Sy to join you for a trip to Ikea. You needed a new bookshelf and your car was too small to fit it, so you convinced Sy to bring his truck. Getting to stroll around with him through the hallways with your hands linked was simply a bonus.

When you first walked in, you could tell Sy was a little uncomfortable. This wasn't exactly his area, fluffy rugs, decorative pillows,...he felt so out of place. But seeing you with a big smile on your face, dragging him around to show him which wineglasses you liked, made it worth it.

You made him feel at ease, but nervous at the same time. The whole thing felt so domestic, so innocent. So, why was the only thought on his mind pushing you onto one of those beds and fucking you six ways from Sunday?

Aside from that kiss in the car and a couple steamy messages, not much had happened between the two of you. It's not like you didn't want to, you just wanted to take it slow and Sy was trying to be a tease gentleman.

By the time you got to the storage place, he was a lot more relaxed. Maybe it was the fact that there were no more soft blankets or colorful couches. This part of the building was definitely more his vibe. Though, being able to show off his strength when it was time to carry the boxes may also have something to do with it...

You were almost at checkout, Sy was pushing the cart, half his view was blocked and he was trying not to crash into anything when he heard you squeal loudly.

"OH MY GOD!"

"What? What happened?" He peaked past the mountain of cardboard. He was worried something might have happened, but when he saw what you were holding, he grinned in confusion.

"He looks just like you!" you exclaimed happily, holding a big, stuffed bear with dark brown fur. "I'm taking him home with me."

Sy tried to keep a stern look but failed miserably, chuckling while he pulled you into him.

"What, am I not enough for you anymore? Should I be worried?", he joked.

"Don't you worry, baby. You will always be my big bear. The little one is just for when you're not around", you explained.

"Well if I'm your bear, you're my honey", he mumbled, pressing a kiss against the top of your head. God, he always smelled so fucking good... "Oh! I can spray some of your cologne on him!"

You kept babbling happily as you dragged Sy to the checkout. He didn't even know how long he had been smiling, but somehow he just couldn't stop. Fuck, what are you doing to him?

45 minutes later it was your turn to try and suppress your laugh. You were sitting on your couch, sipping a glass of white wine, and watching your man try and prove just how manly he is.

"Sy, honey, I really think if you just looked at the instructions..."

"I don't need no damn instructions, it's a fucking bookshelf", he grumbled.

"Alright, suit yourself...", you sighed, turning the page of your magazine.

Barely a second later you got startled by a loud bang and a string of curses. You looked up to see the damage and were met with a fuming Sy clutching his thumb.

"Not a word", he said.

"M'not saying anything!", you chuckled.

Another ten minutes passed in silence, aside from the occasional grumble coming from the bulky man you were rapidly falling in love with.

You finally dropped down the magazine next to you and put down your wine.

"Would you just let me help?", you asked, standing in front of him.

"I don't need-"

"Yes, you fucking do! Stop being so damn stubborn, Sy! It's not a sin to look at the manual! It's what it's fucking there for!", you finally snapped.

Sy looked at you with an unreadable expression on his face. He straightened himself, towering over you.

"You don't scare me, big guy", you dared, crossing your arms.

He raised his brow, tilting back his head a tiny bit as he peered down at you.

"Alright", his voice was calm and collected. A beat of silence passed and the tension could be cut with a knife.

You were starting to get a little confused, not entirely sure what the vibe was anymore but then, without an ounce of effort, Sy picked you up and swung you over his beefy shoulder.

"Sy! What the hell are you doing? Logan??"

A squeal left your throat when you were dropped down on your mattress. You barely had any time to process what was happening before Sy was on top of you, pinning your arms above your head as his body covered yours.

"You and that damn mouth of yours", he groaned, "always running ain't it? See what happens when you poke a bear?"

"He finally wants to taste his honey?" you spoke softly.

"Oh, honey, you have no idea", he said before he captured your lips with his.

You tried to wriggle your hands free to touch him, but he wouldn't budge, chuckling into your mouth as he felt you struggle.

"What have I told you about asking for what you want, hmm?"

"Sy, please...", you started begging.

'Please what? Use your words"

"C'mon....just lemme touch you, Sy, s'not funny anymore...", you whined, desperately trying to get closer to him, but you were no match for his strength.

Admittedly, feeling how much bigger and stronger than you he was made you drip right through your panties, but that didn't mean you weren't still desperate to get your hands on him.

Sy finally took pity on you and released your wrists. Your hands immediately clawed at his back, trying to pull him impossibly closer as you pulled him in for another breathtaking kiss. One of his big hands semi-gently held your cheek while the other pawed at your body, wherever he could.

It didn't take long before clothes went flying, both yours and his. The sound of his belt unbuckling ran in your ears as your blood pumped faster.

"Fuck, I want you so bad...", you mumbled under your breath, your eyes raking over his furry chest before landing on the tent in his boxers.

"I want you too, baby, so so bad". Blood rushed to your face at the realization that he had heard you. He still had a grin on his face, but this time it was different. Less mean, more dopey.

"Wanna taste you...", he mumbled as he pressed kisses between your breasts and down your stomach.

"Fuck, Sy..."

The first lick between your sticky folds already had him moaning into your pussy. "Sweetest honey I've ever fucking tasted...", he groaned before burying his face back in between your legs.

He ate you out with vigor, swiping his tongue around your clit just enough to drive you crazy before dipping it down to lick long stripes up and down your slit. With all the pent-up tension (and Sy's insane cunnilingus skills), it didn't take long at all before you felt that familiar heat pool down in your belly.

You arched your back off the bed, one hand digging into Sy's scalp as the other frantically grabbed at your pillow.

"Oh fuck, fuck...", you moaned as you felt yourself starting to creep closer to the edge. Sy focussed his full attention solely on your clit now, sucking and nibbling on it while he pressed two of his thick fingers inside you. He curled them up, finding your spot almost immediately and you screamed.

"AH shit! Please please please, don't stop...m'gonna cum!”, you babbled with an unsteady voice.

Usually you don't like to tell your partner when you're about to cum, because for some reason they always seemed to take that as a sign to start doing completely different shit, but you trusted Sy. He clearly knew what he was doing, and to your delight, he kept doing it exactly like that until your thighs were trembling on his shoulders.

You felt the waves of your orgasm roll through your body, your hips mimicking the movement as you bucked against his face. He didn't seem to mind one bit.

He kept his fingers inside you, perfectly stimulating the spongy spot they were nestled against while his lips nursed on your swollen clit, prolonging your orgasm.

Your entire body felt like it was on fire as you waited for Sy to stop, so you could finally breathe again. But to your surprise, the big beast between your legs didn't even show signs of slowing down.

"S-Sy...fuck fuck stop...stop stop stop...", you tried to squirm away from the sensitive feeling, but he kept you firmly in his grip.

"fuck..shit..sensitive...too sensitive..Sy, FUCK!" you moaned when the pain suddenly turned into overwhelming pleasure. The only thing you could do was scream for him. With every knock of his fingers against your spot you felt a pressure build, and when his strong arm pressed down harder on your belly, you swore your vision went white.

You wailed as you came again in a manner that could only be described as violent. Tears streamed down your cheeks as you felt yourself gush all over Sy's mouth and fingers. Your brain was too fuzzy to be embarrassed about it. He helped you ride out the last waves of your orgasm before he finally let up.

"Fucking hell...", he spoke up first. Your eyes blinked open and you sat up a bit to look at him. You were still finding the right words, trying to piece your brain back together, and then you saw it. The drops in Sy's beard, the wet spot on the mattress...oh my god...no no no no no.

It was as if Sy could read your mind, either that or the horrified look on your face was more obvious than you thought it was.

"That was the hottest thing I've ever seen in my entire life", he stated.

"Really?"

"Absolutely", he promised.

You looked at the twinkle in his eyes and you knew he wasn't lying. God damn, where has this man been all your life. Before you could stop yourself, you pulled him forward by the neck and smashed your lips against his, not caring one bit about the wetness of his beard.

He groaned when you pushed him back on the bed. "My turn", you grinned as you straddled him. You gave him one last peck before peppering kisses on his neck and across his chest.

"Fuck, honey...", he mumbled, gently moving your hair out of your face and keeping a gentle hold of it.

You finally shimmied down his boxers. His cock sprung free. Hard, throbbing, and all yours. You grabbed him by the base and pressed a few teasing kisses along the length of him before licking up a stripe and finally taking the head in your mouth.

A low rumble could be heard deep in his chest as you took him deeper, determined to fit him entirely. To your disappointment, you started gagging when he was barely halfway. You wanted to try again, but Sy gently tugged on your hair. "Not necessary, sweetheart"

"But I wanna make you feel good", you pouted.

"You are, feels so good princess, doesn't have to be all the way to feel good", he reassured you.

You took him in your mouth again and gently bobbed your head up and down, glancing up at him to see his eyes droop. You would have kept going for hours if it meant getting to see him like this. Sadly, he pulled you off his dick way too soon for your liking.

"Wha-but you haven't cum yet!", you whined.

"That's 'cause I'm gonna cum in this pretty pussy.", he stated before flipping you over, leaving him on top of you once again.

"Been wanting to fuck you for so long, you know that? Always skipping around in those damn skirts, teasing me...", he kissed you before you could reply. His rough hands traced about your body, squeezing and kneading at your flesh wherever he could.

You let your knees fall open next to his thighs, opening up for him. When the tip of his cock pressed against your entrance, your breath hitched in anticipation.

"You okay, baby?" he asked when he noticed your sudden nervousness.

"Yeah..."

"That doesn't sound very convincing", Sy spoke, sitting up a little. "We don't have to go any further, you know that right? I'm perfectly content just arguing with you over a bookshelf", he grinned and you felt yourself relax.

You gave him a sweet smile and tugged him down for a kiss. The kiss was slow and meaningful, different than before. When he pulled back, Sy's eyes found yours, "What's going on, hmm?" he asked, his tone calm and caring.

"Just been a while...", you stated shyly.

"Been a while for me too, honey, a long while", he admitted.

"How long?", you asked curiously, making him chuckle. "Seven months.", he replied, "and I can wait another seven if you want me to." It was your turn to chuckle, "Luckily, I don't want you to", you kissed him again.

"Since Cory's pool party...", you mumbled against his lips.

"Hmm?"

"Cory's pool party, when I first met you. Don't know how long ago that was exactly, but that's how long it's been for me".

Sy stared at you with wide eyes. You couldn't read his expression, but after a few beats, his eyes softened. He leaned in closely, his cock still stiff between your legs.

"Seven months", he whispered, "that's how long that's been."

His words and what they meant hung in the air for a couple seconds and you couldn't figure out what to say, so you settled for, "Fuck me, Sy. Please?"

He grinned and reached in between your trembling bodies to grab his cock, pushing it between your folds. "I'll go slow, sweetheart. Trust me. If I don't, this s'gonna be over real soon".

He slid inside with ease, the stretch was there but bearable. His head dropped to your shoulder when he was fully in, hot breath and scruffy beard tickling your neck. Your legs wrapped around his hips, trying to urge him deeper somehow.

After what seemed like a century (not that you were complaining), he dragged his hips back, sliding almost completely out of you before pushing back in. He repeated his movement a couple times. Your whines turned into moans, getting louder as his thrusts got rougher.

"Fucking hell...best pussy I've ever had", he groaned, pumping into you at a faster pace. He hiked up one of your legs higher over his hip, making him hit inside you deeper while grinding on your still-sensitive clit.

You moaned loudly. Your nails scratched over his biceps and he groaned in your ear. Neither of you was gonna last long and you both knew it.

"Mine", he growled and you almost came on the spot.

"Yours, Sy! Only yours!", you kept babbling while he absolutely destroyed your body, "I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum!"

"Cum for me, baby, fuck..."

Your final orgasm of the night consumed you. "Cumming! I'm cumming...fuck please cum inside me Sy, OH!", you moaned so loud you were sure the neighbors heard you, but you didn't care. Sy grabbed your hips roughly as he chased his own release, following suit before yours was even over.

He looked godly. His hairy chest was all sweaty, head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut...you swore you got another tiny orgasm just looking at him and feeling his cock throb inside you.

"Shit...", he groaned breathlessly, "I swear I usually last longer...", he started but you stopped him right away. "Sy, you made me cum three times in the last 45 minutes. I don't think I would have survived any longer."

He chuckled as he fell on top of you, squishing you in the process. You hummed happily, stroking his back while his cock was still buried deep inside you. You could barely breathe but you didn't care, if this was how you met your end, it seemed like a good way to go.

Taglist;

@metalbuckaroo @princessayveke @montsepliego @scxrletrecsmarvel @hopelesslyrogers @eclecticpatrolroadlawyer @tfandtws @vicmc624 @ahahafudge @enchantedbarnes @wickedravyn @pono-pura-vida @amayaraestyles @matchat3a @fictional-hooman @sebastianexplicit @peaches1958 @avengersfan25 @jamneuromain @tryingtoliveonmywishes @mrsevans90 @daybreak96 @tiredqueen73 @fallingforunrealisticromance @identity2212 @randomweirdoss @ragamuffin285 @juliaorpll78 @geralts-yenn @imjusthereforliam @bangtanstoeart @squeezyvalkyrie @enchantedbytomandhenry @superduckmilkshake @kingliam2019 @bascmve01 @missgaygurl @foxyjwls007 @mollymal @urmomsgirlfriend1 @luxeydior @peyton-warren

#gummydummy19 #fanfiction #fluff #smut #captain syverson #smutty thoughts #henry cavill #captain sy #captain syverson fanfiction #captain syverson x reader #captain syverson fic #henry cavill fanfic #captain syverson smut #captain syverson fluff #captain syverson x you #grumpy x sunshine #grumpy bear #grumpy sunshine trope

[imyourbratzdoll]

Hi!! Could you please do a Henry Cavill x Reader where she goes to surprise him while he’s filming Justice League but she gets the surprise when she sees his big body and hairy chest. Maybe he surprises her with himself in his superman suit ;) smut

hey honey! sorry this took so long, but I hope you like it.

summary - you go to surprise your husband on set and get a surprise yourself.

warning - smut, swearing, creampie, whore, aftercare.

18+ only please, the gif I use isn't mine, divider by @newlips

You had dressed in your prettiest sundress, planning on surprising your husband while he was on set. You’ve been face-timing, calling and texting, but you haven’t been able to feel him in so long. You loved that he was passionate about his job and playing Superman, but damn, you were jealous. You made your way over, smiling at the guard and headed to your husband's trailer. You had a big smile on your face as you headed inside before your mouth dropped open, and drool began to build at the sight in front of you. 

Henry turns, having been pulling his Superman costume on before you walked in. Your eyes slowly move down his body, landing on his large hairy chest, and your tongue flicks out, wetting your suddenly dry lips before your eyes move further down, catching the enormous bulge that causes your cunt to throb and slicken. “H–hi, baby… I came to surprise you.” You gulp, eyes slowly moving back up his body and landing on his smirking face.

“I can see that.” He walks over, large hands landing on your hips as he looks down at you. “Don’t you know it’s rude to walk in without knocking, sugar?” You whimper as he pushes his bulge against you, biting your lip and looking up at him with innocent eyes. “My beautiful wife came to surprise me. Aren’t I lucky?” You nod, mind already becoming fuzzy from being in his presence. “I should thank my little wife.” You continue to nod, whimpering when he picks you up and presses you into the wall, your legs wrapping tightly around his waist. “No knickers, sugar? Were you expecting this?” He groans, swiping his thick fingers against your dripping cunt before quickly freeing his rock-hard member, grunting as he strokes it, feeling it pulse and throb, his swollen tip leaking with pre-cum before he lines it up with your entrance. “Are you ready, baby?” 

“Y–yes, please, Henry!” Your head flies back into the wall, and a loud moan escapes you as he pushes in swiftly, filling your tight cunt with his monstrous cock. “H–Hen, so big… So full.” Your mouth falls open, eyes rolling to the back of your head as he pounds roughly into you, pushing you further into the wall and gripping your hips. 

“Yeah, baby. Gone all dumb, huh?” His forehead rests against yours, “You’re so tight. You’ve missed my cock haven’t you, baby? Missed me filling you every night.” Your head moves up and down as you nod, whimpering. Your nails dig into his muscular flesh, whining as he picks up his pace. The sound of skin slapping fills the trailer. His grunts and your moans can be heard across the set. Henry buries his face into your neck, leaving behind marks as he buries himself balls deep inside your cunt. “Feel so good wrapped around me, baby. Do you think you can cum for me?” You nod, connecting your lips with his in a messy kiss. Henry growls and moves back, gripping your chin between his fingers. “Words, whore.”

“Yes! Yes! Please let me cum, Henry!” He changes the angle, pounding into your sweet spot, his other hand moving between the two of you and rubbing your puffy clit. He brings you back into a messy kiss, and your moans become mixed. “So close! Please!” 

“Cum, sugar. Cum so I can fill you up.” Your vision becomes white, walls squeezing tightly around his throbbing member as you cum. Your arousal shoots out of you and coats Henry in your cream. His pace becomes frantic before he feels his balls tighten, and Henry empties thick amounts of cum deep into you. You cling to him, falling limp into his arms and faintly feel him carrying you over to his bed. “Missed you, Hen.” You mumble.

Henry smiles, leaning forward and pressing his lips against yours before he grabs a damp cloth and begins to clean you. “I missed you too, sugar.” He grabs his phone, sending a quick text before stripping and crawling beside you, pulling you close to his body. “Missed you so much.” He presses a kiss into your head before the two of you drift off. 

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

#hallecarey1ask #imyourbratzdollasks #imyourbratzdollwork #henry cavill x y/n #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill #henry cavill x female reader #henry cavill fluff #henry cavill fic #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill imagines #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill oneshot #henry cavill one shot #henry cavill angst #henry cavill au #henry cavill x short!reader #henry cavill x wife reader

[took-hold-of-nothing]

#I made this set bc I want to have quick visual reference when reading fics #superbat #superman #batman #bruce wayne #clark kent #ben affleck #henry cavill #robert pattinson #Brandon Routh #Christian Bale #Batfleck #battinson #man of steel #superman returns #the dark knight #batman v supeman: dawn of justice #the batman #batwoman #arrowverse #dc #edit

[itstheimpossibledream]

Big

Pairing :Henry Cavill x reader

Warning: Daddy!DomHenry, Smut, Oral, Size Kink

Everything below the cut is NSFW I won’t lie.

Summary : Henry loves how big he looks in comparison to you. 

“On your knees.” he commands calmly. You bring yourself to the floor as he unzips his pants. He brings himself out of his underwear practically slapping you in the face as it springs free.

“Sorry.” he chuckles, fumbling to hold himself down.You laugh at the juxtaposition of his handsome face and figure, that exudes this constantly flustered personality. You know he loves seeing his size next to you.He caresses your cheek softly, then replaces his hand with his cock. You look up at him, eyes wide and innocent. 

“Open your mouth.” his voice is stern while he gently slaps himself against your face.

“You look so fucking cute like this.” he can tell his compliment perks you up and he does not stop there.

“Come now, open that pretty little mouth for daddy.” he says, tapping his member on your lips. A bit of his precum leaks onto you and he uses the tip of his cock to spread it across your lips. The sigh that leaves his body makes your heart skip. And when you part your lips slightly, he presses down with his thumb popping himself into your mouth. Your eyes widen a bit at the surprise of the expanse he takes up ,practically engaging your gag reflex. 

“Fuck that’s good babe.” he says grabbing your hair, angling your face further up so he simply fits straight into your throat. “Mmmm.good girl. Take me just like that.” he praises. You can feel your insides light up at that positive response and can’t help yourself from feeling your pussy juices drip down your leg. He extends his arm down to you, and when you move to take it he lifts you up, swinging you over his shoulder, to the bed.He sets you down much gentler than you had expected.

“Open your legs baby” he coos while hovering over you. You try to squeeze them tighter, almost embarrassed by how much you were leaking all over his bed but, he works one strong hand in between the middle of your upper thighs and spreads them before you get the chance to continue your protest. 

“It’s to big” you protest but,he hushes you. Slowly he pushes into you, deeper and deeper, letting out a low growl once he finally finds himself fully inside. 

“That’s it darling, make space for me.” he whispers. You can’t stop the noises that escape your lips as he ruts into you,complementing and praising you the whole way.

#henry cavill #henry cavill reader #henry cavill smut #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x female reader #henry cavill gifs #henrycavillgf #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fic #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill fanfiction #henrycavillfan #henry cavill witcher #henry cavill sherlock holmes #henry cavill sherlock x reader #henrycavill rp #henrycavilledit #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill sex #henry cavill series #smut #sexy stories #henrycavillxreader #henry cavill daddy #henry cavill drabble #size k!nk

[thedemonofcat]

In every single version of their first meeting, be the books, Hexer, or Netflix series.

It's always. Jaskier shows up one day to Geralt and goes

“Congratulations, I’m your bard now.”

Geralt has no other option but to accept.

#the witcher netflix #the witcher #geralt of rivia #joey batey #jaskier the witcher #henry cavill #the witcher jaskier #geralt x jaskier #geraskier #fic ideas #jaskier #gerskier #cirilla fiona elen riannon #freya allan #headcanon #yennefer of vengerberg #the witcher season 3 #the witcher season three #anya chalotra

[boxofbonesfic]

Title: Tonality [5]

Pairing: Prince!Geralt x Princess!Reader

previous Chapter

Summary: “The white wolf wants you. He’ll have no other.” As you grieve the loss of your father, your mother marries the king. Whilst you struggle to acclimate to your new life, you begin to suspect the interest your new brother has in you is less than familial.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Dark Fantasy, Darkfic, Step-cest, Medieval/GoT inspired AU, Genre Typical Violence, Mild Descriptions of Violence, (Future)Smut, Dubcon/Noncon, Manipulation, Gaslighting, Obsessive Behavior, Possessive Behavior, MINORS DNI!!

A/N: OMG I’M SO SORRY. this chapter was so hard to write and it kept getting away from me, because i really wanted to pivot hard into some of the main plot points. i really hope you enjoy it, please drop me a comment and let me know even if you didn’t.

“Come.” Your mother’s voice is firm. Her mourning veil just barely outlines the shape of her face, as her lips move beneath the fabric. It billows behind her as she walks down the darkened line of empty pews toward the front of the little chapel, a flickering candle held steady in her gloved hand. 

Your father is to be buried tomorrow. 

You know his grave is already dug—a fresh square cut out of the dark earth next to his father’s. The thought of him alone in the dirt is enough to make your throat tighten, though no tears come. You have cried them all already; a veritable ocean. Even so, your dry eyes ache for lack of them.

“W-wait, mother, I—” You do not want to see it, the vacant thing your father’s soul has left behind. At the end, you could barely recognize him in the fragile body decaying in his sick bed. You catch at her sleeve with numb fingers, lowering your head in shame. “I do not want to see—” Her icy fingers wrap around yours, long and thin, her jagged nails digging into your skin. 

“We must each place a stitch upon the shroud.” You wince as she presses the long needle into your stiff hands. “It is our duty.” Only when you accept it does she release you, and for a moment, you see her lips quirk cruelly beneath the veil. You tremble as your mother steps aside, your breath catching as you see the shape of the body on the altar. 

Just behind her is your father, his shroud dotted with the shapes of dead flowers and bare trees. It does little to quell the horror you feel to behold him, though, his thin outline visible through the shroud, limbs folded and delicate like a baby bird.  You remember what he looked like two nights prior, his rheumy eyes dull and deep set into his skull, skin thin and sallow. He looks small now, too, beneath his shroud, and you find it hard to believe this withered corpse had once been a great mountain of a man. A good man, a strong man, now reduced to the barest scraps of skin and bone. 

“Stitch.” Her command fills every inch of space, in the chapel and in your head. And though you want nothing more than to close your eyes and be gone from this place, your body will not obey. You raise the needle. 

“Please, mother—”

“Stitch.” Her voice is like iron nails in your skull. Blood drips from your nose, and you taste the warm copper of it on your lips. You pinch a corner of thin fabric between your fingers, and push in the needle, pulling it through until the knot at the end of the thread catches. You lower your hand to the shroud as you sew another stitch, and as you do so, your fingers brush your father’s sunken cheek, and you retch. 

You cannot stop—

She will not let you. 

You look down at your father’s body with tears in your wide eyes, and as you do, a scream builds in your throat. You pinch his lips together between your forefinger and thumb. Delicately; like you would the hem of your gown for a curtsey— and sew another stitch through the meat of them. He is beginning to rot, now, you can smell it over the cloying scent of incense.

“Mother stop!” Your scream is swallowed by the heavy darkness of the empty chapel. Your mother sighs, her breath curling against your ear. 

“How else can we make sure the dead don’t speak?” She threads her fingers through yours as she pulls your hand toward his sunken eyelids. You pinch the stiff flesh between your fingers, holding it taut for the needle. 

“Now close his eyes.”

You wake with a start, sitting up in bed as you cover your mouth with one hand, fingers searching for the thick black funeral thread—but of course, you find none. The dream clings to the edges of your vision like spider silk, the taste of decaying things still heavy on the panicked air you draw in. A ra sob wrenches its way out of your throat as you press the heels of your palms against your closed eyes. 

Perhaps I am mad, after all.

Ain’t supposed t’see the dead ones. Maybe Madge’s old superstitions had borne fruit in your own mind. You recall the symbol she made with one hand, finger on thumb, finger on thumb, before spitting down into the dirt as you left your father’s burial. She’d shaken her head then, some the silver-gray locs piled on top of her head coming loose. Ain’t supposed t’see them. They stay when you see, them, Lady. 

They stay.

“No!” You throw the blankets off of yourself, lurching out of bed and stumbling towards the wash-bowl on the dresser. The thought of that day fills you with the same cold dread you have come to know too well. You’ve little choice in your dreams; the specter of his burial hanging over you like overripe fruit. But here, in waking, in the chill autumn daylight, you have the power to turn your thoughts to other things. 

At least, you try to. 

The water is shockingly cold, but you are grateful for it, staring down into the porcelain bowl. A knock at the door startles you, and you jump.

“W-who is it?”

“Kassandra, Majesty. Might I come in?” 

“Yes,” you sigh. “You may.” You pat worriedly at your swollen eyelids, and you frown at your reflection as the door swings open. Your mother has an effortless sort of beauty, one that needs neither rouge nor powders to enhance—a trait you certainly do not share. Your disturbing, sleepless night is written plainly on your face. 

Kassandra sets the tray down in the sitting area, before turning to you with a worried expression. 

“Her Majesty hopes you are well,” she says, nervously tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear with dainty fingers. “As you were not at break-fast this morning.” 

“I was… I did not sleep well.” You shake your head. “I trust my mother made her displeasure quite clear.” She stifles a laugh. “She’s good at that.”

“She did.” Kassandra gestures to the tray, porridge and an assortment continental fruit cut into bite size pieces. “You should eat, Lady. While it’s hot.” You pick uninterestedly at the porridge until it is mostly gone, along with the tart green grapes and sweet winter melon. At the very least you do feel better for it, or at least, more present—more grounded in this world, not the dream one. 

You clear up the remains of your breakfast, piling the dishes neatly back onto the tray. In the armoire, you note that more Rivian style gowns have been hung, your light Redanian dresses folded neatly and shunted off to the shelves on the side. Your mother’s thin excuse makes you wrinkle your nose in distaste as you finger one of the heavy sleeves. “Much too light for these Rivian winters, Dear,” she’d said, patting the neatly folded dresses. 

“You won’t need them.”

The truth remains unspoken, but you know it still—she does not want you to need them. You pull a heavy crimson dress from its place and begin to undo the lacing. Kassandra clucks her tongue at you. 

“Highness, please. Allow me at least one task.” You roll your eyes in response.

“I believe you are capable of more than dressing me—and that I am more than capable of dressing myself,” you reply. You change into a fresh shift before shrugging into the dress. You twist around to reach for the lacings, but Kassandra shoos your hands away to do them herself. 

“You’re doing them wrong.” She chides you gently. “Up for lift, down for compression, my Lady.” Kassandra nods at you in the mirror and then positions your body so that if you crane your neck just a little, you can see her hands as she easily threads the thick ribbon through the eyelets. “Opposing sides. Like this.” 

You purse your lips. “We don’t wear these dreadful things in Redania,” you mutter, your breath hitching as the corset tightens. She laughs before stepping away, brushing loose lint from the folds of the heavy fabric. 

“Even so, our fashion does suit you.”  You can tell she wants to say something else, the way her mouth opens and then closes, her lips pressing into a thin line. 

“You’ve another correction?” You ask, gesturing at yourself with a chuckle, but she shakes her head. She glances at the door, as though reassuring herself that it was still shut.

“No, no, I—I do not mean to be insolent, Highness,” Kassandra begins, “but I do not think I have ever heard you say you have rested well within these walls.” Your smile turns brittle and tired. 

“No. I have not. And your concern is not insolence. I am grateful for it.”

“Healer Janna—her draughts have not availed you?” You hesitate, wondering if you should describe the shape of your demon, give it form and substance outside of your mind. You shake your head, steepling your fingers together to stop them from trembling. 

“It seems the dreams that plague me require more than nightroot and dried frogspawn to satisfy them.” I see my father. I see him dead a thousand ways. 

“Healer Janna’s draughts for sleep and pain are as close to magic as they’ll allow in the White Keep, you know that.” Bastard’s magic. You do. You think of Father Rame’s disgusted expression. He does not seem the type to suffer a witch to live. “But I have… there is another. A woman—they call her The Dock Hag.” Her voice is a low whisper, as if she fears the good Father ears will ring with her heresy, even here. 

“And she can… she can rid me of these dreams?” The prospect is a tantalizing one. “You know her? You have visited this woman?”

“I—yes. I met her. Once.” Her smile is sad. “When I was small, and the older Ladies had need of her.” Kassandra’s words are aged, heavy with the weight of years that both do and do not belong to her in equal measure. “And then again, for the memories.” 

“She…” You cannot bring yourself to say it. Kassandra nods, the smile going brittle and crumbling from her face.

“Not many Lords will claim their bastards, Highness, if you will forgive my candor.”

In your mind’s eye you see a small Kassandra, attending her own mother, most likely, or perhaps even an older sister or cousin who… had need of this woman. The witch who had taken their babies—

And then burnt their dreams out. 

“What did it cost?”

“Nothing special. Gold.” You let out a relieved sigh at her words. That, at least, is an easy enough problem to solve. Kassandra cuts her eyes at you. “Are you going to go? To see her?”

Perhaps Madge was a superstitious old northern goat—But maybe she was right too: the living are not meant to mingle with the dead. Perhaps it is some guilt that drives your father’s image to the forefront of your mind, some secret thing that the specter of his death clings to—you cannot know. 

But the witch might. 

—

The east stair is narrow, cut roughly out of the stone as if it were an afterthought. The iron railing is pitted and mottled from the salt in the air, and it rattles dangerously as you grip it. The stairs themselves are uneven, still slick from the inconsistent rain that had stopped only hours before. Every step feels as though you are lurching forward, being pulled down the long winding stair to the paving below. 

There are more ways to enter and exit this keep than the main gate, Majesty. 

The east stair wound around the back of the White Keep like a snake, the steps hidden in the stone like a secret. As you take another cautious step down, your foot slips and you gasp, the railing shaking as you cling to it. You steady yourself, locking your trembling knees tightly as you recite Kassandra’s instructions. 

You will take the east stair down from the parapets over the chapel. Through the gap in the wall is the city. Go straight to the docks, ask for the Hag.” She had not wanted to stay behind, though you had convinced her with a stern look and an order to send away any who came knocking at your door till you returned. You would need her to provide a believable excuse in the event that anyone came looking—and an empty room would be cause for alarm, especially with you… “ill.”

Below you, the city glitters with light even as the dark begins to deepen. Beyond it, the sun sinks into the sea, lingering on the horizon before disappearing completely. Like Kassandra had said, near the foot of the stairs—twenty feet back, and behind a column, but near enough—is the gap in the wall. It is overgrown thick with dying ivy, the orange leaves already turning spotty brown at the edges. 

Crushed leaves litter the hood and shoulders of your cloak as you start to squeeze inside, the stone catching at your clothes. You push your way through the narrow passage, panic coiling in your gut at the feel of the unyielding pressure at your chest and back. Your fingers meet open air at the next push, and you practically drag yourself out into the streetlight, fingers digging into the stone. 

The misty street that greets you is practically empty, and what few people there are do not seem to have noticed that you have joined them from nowhere on the wet cobbled street. Hurriedly, you brush dirt and discarded leaves from your cloak before you adjust your hood, angling it down over your eyes. You keep your head down, your hands clenched into trembling, nervous fists. Every heavy step you take away from the keep sets the warning bells in your skull to ringing, as gooseflesh rises on your arms. 

It isn’t too late to go back. It isn’t. Not too late to turn around, slip back between the ivy covered crack in the east wall and seek your mother’s counsel once more—and go to sleep, knowing that you will see beyond the veil again. 

The thought spurs you onward. 

The streets are even more unfamiliar in the growing dark, and as you watch the lanterns flare to life to chase it away, you swallow nervously. There is so much to see, here—too much. As you approach the city centre the market is still bustling with activity, the shops open and windows bright.

You spare yourself a few moments to watch the people. A woman buys bread, her son playing in her skirts, a man pulls shut the door of the tavern across the way, a blacksmith’s hammer falls rhythmically like a drum, the chapel’s bell rings for evening prayer—there is so much here, the sheer amount of everything almost dizzies you. A woman bumps your shoulder as she passes by, and it stirs you out of your reverie. By the time she turns to apologize, you are already gone, hurrying off through the square. 

The air turns salt with brine the closer you get, and you lick your dry lips, tasting it. The night had been thick with sounds in the city center, but the further you travel from it, the more quiet the streets become. It is eerie, the stark difference between these silent, empty streets and the lively square only moments ago. 

The last time you had been to the docks was when you’d stepped off of the ship, in the scant few days before your mother’s wedding. Now, the narrow streets look different, unrecognizable from the snatches you remember through the carriage windows. You look in one direction, and then another, frowning.

“You’re lost, Sweet.” There is no question in the old woman’s voice. You see her then, standing beneath the street lantern in a pool of pale light.

“I—I am looking for—”

“Me, Sweet. You’re looking for me.” The shadows fall away from her face without her moving, like the light has only just decided to accept her. The Witch’s white hair is wild about her face. And her face… she is a severe beauty, like wind whipped ocean waves. The years define her jaw, sloping in gentle strokes down around her eyes, and her ears slope upward into gentle points. She is older than your mother, though you know this not by sight but because you simply… know it. An uncanny feeling that has grown in the back of your mind that she is like you, but… un-like you, too. 

She is an elf. 

It is not just the ears, but the air about her, an ethereal quality that surrounds her as thickly as the shawl about her shoulders. It is in the delicate set of her jaw, perhaps, or the distinct lack of canine teeth in her amused grin. You take a halting step forward, and then stop, wary.

“You are the W—you can help me?” The Witch wraps her shawl tighter about her shoulders, and fixes you with a hawkish look. 

“Don’t know that yet.” She purses her lips. “Shall we do this in the street? Or will you oblige me my own roof?” You nod hurriedly, and follow her as she turns quickly on her heel down the street. You are close enough to the docks to hear the water as she approaches a small house, pushing open the door. You follow her inside, halting briefly at the doorway. There is dried heather inside, hanging in a braided bushel on the arch. She watches you step inside, her dark eyes narrowed. 

“Shut the door behind you,” she snaps, flicking the edge of her shawl over her shoulder. “Never met a Princess raised in a bloody barn.” You brush aside the bushels of dried herbs hanging from the low ceiling as you make your way inside. 

The Witch rounds the other side of the table, where you see the evidence of her unfinished work. A grindstone, laying on its side, with half-ground herbs lying in the bowl. 

“How did you know?” You ask as she picks it back up, the sound of stone on stone filling the room as she resumes. “That I was looking… for you.” 

“I always know,” she replies, somewhat exasperated. “Like a rabbit knows a fox.” Her sharp eyes find yours once more. “What ails you, sweet Princess?” There is mockery in her tone, though you dare not take umbrage at its presence. “A suitor you wish to beguile? A fair maiden you wish to remove from his eye?” Her gaze drops down, and then darts back up again. 

“Or perhaps an unseen consequence?” 

Your throat tightens. 

“No, I—my dreams.” You say. “I dream the most terrible things, and I—I want you to take them away.” 

The stone stops. 

“Come here, child. Into the light.” The Witch holds out her hand, beckoning you forward. “And take down that stupid hood, you’re not hiding from anyone here.” She clucks her tongue at you as you approach, fingering the edge of your hood reluctantly. She already knows who you are—though you are not quite sure how she knows. With one hand, she reaches for your face. You do not flinch away from her—you do not fear her, though perhaps if you were smarter, you suppose you would. Her touch is gentle as she tilts your chin up, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. 

The fire crackles in the hearth, louder for the silence. 

“And what do you dream?”

“I see…” You swallow. “I see dead things.” She peers into your eyes, her pupils wide. “I see my father.” You tremble as she steps away, your mouth suddenly dry. “These dreams, these-these nightmares, you can stop them, can you not? You can—”

“I’ll not hear more about what I can and cannot do from the maid in the high castle,” she snaps. “And they are not dreams, though you walk through them in yours.” With her other hand,  she reaches beneath her collar, producing a thin leather cord. There are all manner of things tied to it—feathers, beads, and small, clean animal skills that shine dimly in the firelight. There is a long black needle there, too, hanging by its’ eye. 

“There is a spirit tethered to you.” She turns your hand over, stroking her fingers over the lines in your palm.  She snaps her fingers, motioning for you to give her your other hand. “By great sorrow—” The Witch squints, bringing your hands closer to her face. “Or rage.” She drops your left hand, holding onto your right. “I can no more remove it than I could your shadow.” 

“Tethered?” You repeat. “These are—they are dreams, they are not real—” You sputter in protest, but the Witch merely looks at you, orange firelight dancing in her dark eyes. 

“If they are only dreams, why do you fear them so?” You cannot answer. “They are messages. You should be grateful for them, there are few feats quite as great as bridging the divide between us and those who have gone before, Little Queen. Your father cannot watch over you forever.” 

“I am a Princess.” The Witch smiles. 

“Is that right?” She grasps your hand, gripping your index finger hard and watching as the tip reddens. You flinch as she pinches the needle between two thin fingers. “Come now, Sweet. Mustn’t be afeared of a little pain.” She jabs it into the meat of your finger, and you yelp, tugging uselessly at your hand, but her grip is iron. 

“Ouch!” With a twist of her hand she swipes the fat drop of blood from your fingertip and flicks it into the fireplace. It does not fizzle out, but instead lands on the topmost log, bubbling until it turns black. It smells like ozone—not copper. You do not know why, but you tremble a the sight of it. You have come here to have something taken away, but as you watch your blood crack and burn, you feel as if perhaps something is being given instead. 

“What does this mean?” You turn to her. The Witch rubs your blood between her fingers, sniffing the residue for a moment before wiping them clean on a rag. She does not answer you right away, staring thoughtfully at the thin line of black smoke curling from the fireplace. 

“Please, I—”

“It means, Princess, that we are kin, you and I.” She tilts your chin back as you stare at her, wide eyed. She runs the tips of her fingers over the narrow curve of your left ear—not pointed, not like hers, but… You push her away before you can stop yourself, clutching at your chest with your other hand as if to calm your racing heart. 

“This cannot be true, it—it cannot!” 

“Less than half,” she continues as if your sputtered refusal had never been spoken at all. “Less elf blood in you than I could hold in my hand, but aye, kin we are, still.” The Witch looks you up and down, and this time, there is pity in her gaze. “I cannot take your dreams.” Cold spreads through your trembling limbs. “You must release them yourself.” 

“Release them? How?” She cups your face, and the movement of her thumb over the swell of your cheek is almost affectionate, though the words she speaks next send a cold chill down your spine. 

“No fear, Little Princess. No fear.” For a moment, you swear her eyes go gold, and Geralt’s voice echoes again in the space between you. Before the Witch can say more, you quickly dig the gold out of your pocket, tossing the coins down onto the table as you flee. You do not register her cries to stop, to wait as you barrel through the door, throwing it shut behind you. 

It is raining again, hard sheets of cold water pouring down from the dark, angry sky. You can hear the sea raging against the docks, water crashing in thunderous waves up against the harbor’s weathered stone. Your head is spinning, full to bursting. You are elf-kin—perhaps? Maybe?

Your mother had never seen fit to mention that minor detail—and for that matter, neither had your father. You tug your hood up roughly over your head and turn your face down, away from the cold rain pelting against your skin. Had he even known? 

Would he have even wanted to?

Perhaps I can just ask him myself.

The thought makes you shiver, wrapping your cloak tighter around your shoulders. I can no more remove it than I could your shadow. You do not know which is worse—having left your father behind alone in the dirt, or the restless specter of him living in your dreams. Your finger aches from the point of the dock witch’s iron needle, and you clutch your hand to your chest as you make your way back towards the White Keep. Above you, a white hot arc of lightning splits the sky, throwing up stark shadows against the row of dark houses. 

It is by that grace alone that you see the man. 

You stop short, your heart leaping into your throat. He stands in the shadows beneath the sagging eaves, his stony face surprised as your eyes meet. He steps forward with a heavy sigh, a gloved hand resting on the hilt of the sword at his hip. 

“Highness.” Your throat tightens, and you take a cautious step back as he comes into the meagre light offered by the street lantern above you. “Please don’t make this difficult.” His cloak is drawn over his chest, but you can see the shape of the armor underneath, jet black. 

Nilfgaardian.

 You turn—and run straight into a hard, armored chest.

“Good evening, Your Highness.” Duke Emhyr’s long fingers dig hard into your shoulders, hard enough to bruise. His black hair is slick with rain. He was waiting here… waiting for me. “I shall have to inform Lady Kassandra of your whereabouts,” he sneers. “She seems to think you are asleep in your bed.” You lift your heel and grind it hard into the top of his foot, and the Duke curses, his grip loosening. You pull away, but he manages to catch the edge of your cloak, pulling hard until you fall backwards. 

The impact knocks the wind out of you, leaving you gasping and dizzy, staring up at the dark sky. 

“We did not get to finish our little chat, in the garden.” He says, squatting down over you as you struggle up to your knees on the wet street. “I think we should do that now, Princess.” 

Your heart pounds heavily against your ribcage as you stagger to your feet. 

“No.” 

“It is not a request.” He motions to the guard behind you, and he grabs you as you struggle, wrenching your arms behind you. 

“Filthy witch,” he hisses, and you flinch. “You and your whore mother.” 

“Gavin, your manners.” He tuts mockingly. “I would be honored, Majesty, if you would accompany me for tea.” You stare at him in silence, the rain soaking through your cloak. “If you would, Ser Gavin.” He forces you forward, and you stumble. 

“It is late for tea, Lord Emhyr,” you snap, dragging your feet against the paving stones. “Perhaps a discussion with Her Majesty herself—” Ser Gavin grunts with irritation at your resistance and shoves you, hard. You stumble as the Duke makes an angry noise deep in his throat. 

“I’ve little stomach for lies.”  

A cold shiver winds its way up your back. You hear the threat though the words remain unspoken. The streets are deserted, and you cannot tell if it is the weather or the hour. Behind you,  clears his throat. 

“Here, my Lord.” 

The faded, splintering sign hanging above the door reads Madam’s Tea House, though by the riotous noise coming from inside, you suspect they serve a few things little stronger than tea. Ser Gavin places a rough hand on the back of your head, forcing it down as he steers you through the doorway. Your stomach drops as your eyes adjust to the dim lighting.

The air stinks of ale, sweaty skin and something more pungent and sour that you cannot identify. There are people everywhere, draped across tables, lounging on pillows and pinned against walls in various states of undress. Your throat goes dry, at the sight of the bare-breasted women sprawled over the tables, their dresses rucked up around their waists. A woman with white painted cheeks and cherry red lips steps quickly out of the way as you are shuffled through, her eyes lowered and lips pressed into a thin line. You understand their choice of venue now—

No one will even remember you were here— and no one will remember when you are not.

As if sensing your rising panic, Ser Gavin’s hand tightens on the scruff of your neck, and with the other hand, he grasps your shoulder. On the raised dais in the center of the dim room, a woman twists lithely, scarves gripped in each of her dainty hands. Gold rings dangle from her bared nipples, matching the one in her nose. Your eyes meet and for a single moment, for a single step, she falters.

The crowd at her feet turns on her in an instant, jeering and spitting. The same men who had watched her dance with silent awe now mock her openly, insults dripping from their lips along with stray drops of ale. 

“Let’s get a new girl up here. One who can remember her bloody steps!”  There is no end to the praises of men when one is perfect—nor an end to their venom when you are not. The truth of it is as plain as the room Duke Emhyr and Ser Gavin force you into. There is a bed with a bare, stained mattress upon its dilapidated frame, and a wooden chair stands between it and the weak fire in the hearth. 

“Sit.” Emhyr instructs you with a bored gesture, and when you do not  comply, Ser Gavin squeezes your shoulder hard until you gasp from the pain of it. You lower yourself reluctantly to the chair as the Duke watches, and you get the feeling that he enjoys it, watching you be forced to heel. If not my mother, then me. Through the silence, you can hear the muted noise of the brothel outside. As uncomfortable as it is for you, you hope it is doubly so for them. 

The Duke stares at you, his eyes narrowed. 

“You wouldn’t see it, not at first,” he says. The disgust drips from every syllable, like he is speaking of something unsavory. “The way you favor them.”

Your heart pounds even as you feign ignorance, schooling your features into shocked offense at his words. He cannot know that this is the second time you have heard them this evening, that you are already itching to get to a mirror to confirm these revelations for yourself, because you do not even know if they are true. The memory of black blood curdling in the hearth is enough to set the uncertainty in your lead filled stomach rolling. 

“I know not of what you speak, my Lord.” The words feel fragile, like they are made of glass. “There—there is still time to let this be nothing but an unpleasant misunderstanding—”

The duke stands in front of the hearth, his hand resting on the mantle. The curve of his back speaks to his weariness, and you wonder if he has been looking for you all night. 

“You and your whore mother have upset the order of things quite a bit, here. Whatever other things you may be, you are not unintelligent enough not to have seen so.” He turns, the fire reddening his cheeks and setting the whit es of his beady eyes ablaze. “Two seasons of talk and courtships undone in a month—and for a woman who is too old to bear a new heir.” 

“His Majesty has an heir,” you remind him. “Or have you forgotten? If you disagree with your king’s decision, you are more than welcome to challenge it before the court a second time, though Their Majesties might not be so prone to leniency given the circumstance.” His jaw tics at the reminder of his position—and yours—but the sly upturn at the corners of his mouth do not disappear. 

“So the Witch does inspire loyalty in you.” He squats in front of you. “Do you know what we do to witches, in the North?” He asks, fingering the dagger at his belt. “Father Wolf is the devourer of all things. Even savages.”

 “Ever since I stepped from boat to shore I have heard that word, and I cannot help but wonder,” the words pour through the gaps in your gritted teeth, and you hope he chokes on the broken glass of them—“if you have ever uttered them looking in a mirror.” 

He raises his hand, as if to backhand you across your face, and you duck down hunching your shoulders to prepare for the blow. It does not land, however, and when you look cautiously up at the duke, he is staring behind you, locked above your head. There is a fourth presence in the room now, one you feel pricking at the back of your neck. 

“No, no, continue.” The drawl that fills the empty room is both shocking and achingly familiar. “I would see the treason with my own eyes.” Geralt stands in the doorway, filling it to the brim with the width of his shoulders. Water drips from his sodden silver hair, though he makes no move to push it back from his face. His hand rests openly upon the sword hanging at his hip.

“That way it passes fewer lips on its way to the king.” 

Duke Emhyr’s eyes go wide, and then angry. 

“I protect the crown, and you call it treason,” slowly,—almost regretfully —the duke lowers his hand. “Can you not see? Can you not see how they twist—” Geralt turns his gaze to you, and somehow his golden eyes seem darker. Harder. 

He came for me.

Ser Gavin fingers the pommel of his sword nervously, playing at the thought of unsheathing it, but too craven to commit. Still, he stands between you and the prince, and does not move. The duke’s rambling of treason and bewitchery continues behind you, rising to a fever pitch as you approach the door. Briefly as you turn, you see him, his face red and lips flecked with frothy spittle as he flings a long, accusing finger towards you.

“They will poison this empire, it’s people! You cannot allow them to sit the throne, it is treason to do it knowingly, you must act!” The fire burns bright in his wide eyes, and you see reflected in them the same vicious zealotry that burned in Father Rame’s. “That which is rooted in rotten soil cannot grow! I will not stand idle while we are destroyed from within.”

In the spaces between his words you can see the calculation. He’s chosen death, you realize. You taste it in the air before he speaks, the power of his decision already shaping the world around it, like chaos—but not the kind they shunned. It tastes like the air inside the chapel; the still, thick air, perfumed so that the smell of his body would not leak further than a few feet beyond his corpse. 

“You know the truth of what I speak, Majesty, you must see that His Highness is not himself! He pants after the elf-bitch, like a man possessed! It is unnatural, you must—you must see it!”

Geralt’s mouth creases with anger. “I see your distrust in your King has bred treasonous discontent. I see your desire to rise above your station would have you slavering after my father’s throne like the dog you are.” He steps into the room then, and you watch as the Duke’s hand closes about the grip of the dagger strapped to his waist. “Your dedication to this fiction will cost you.” 

You had not been able to see Geralt’s other hand, positioned behind him, his arm taut as though he were dragging something heavy. He steps aside, and your heart leaps into your throat as you see why—

A dead Nilfgaardian soldier lies behind him, dark liquid pooling thickly underneath his armor. The duke sees it too, his body tensing. 

“If you will not serve your people, if your father will not protect them, what choice have you left me?” The duke murmurs, the words underscored by the quiet ring of steel as he unsheathes his blade. You jump up, knocking the chair over in your haste to get away from him. You trip over your skirts, stumbling forward as Ser Gavin grabs for you, his hand knotting in your cloak. 

“You will let her go.” Geralt delivers the instructions as truth—no ultimatums. 

“Oh, aye,” Emhyr, nods, forcing the words out through clenched teeth. “On that we agree.” You expect him to lunge for the prince, to hear the sharp clash of steel on steel, but you do not. Instead, his face fills your vision. “You may go wherever you wish, now, Lady.” 

You taste death on his words and in the air, and when he steps away, his hands are empty. There is a strange coldness in your belly, and slowly, your hand drifts up to investigate. The leather grip of the dagger is warm, but the steel is cold, so cold you can feel it all the way inside. It’s strange, the way it doesn’t hurt, the way the blood does not feel hot on your trembling hands but cold—

The death Emhyr had chosen was neither his own, nor Geralt’s—but yours. 

Dimly, you are aware of Geralt, of your body tucked tightly against his, the sound of steel on steel, the feel of cold rain on your face. Weakly, you lift a hand to your belly, your fingers slipping on the handle. Geralts hand closes over yours.

“You must leave it, Doe, you must. I know it hurts.” It doesn’t. You want to tell him, but you cannot find the will to move your lips. You feel your grip slacken on his cloak, your fingers releasing themselves without your permission as your vision tunnels. Geralt tells you not to close your eyes, and the words echo far off in the encroaching dark. 

I have to, you think that perhaps the words escape your slack lips in a low mumble, but you cannot be sure. 

Just for a little while. 

to be continued…

#henry cavill #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill fanfiction #geralt #geralt of rivia #henry cavill x reader #geralt of rivia x reader #geralt of rivia x you #geralt x reader #geralt x you #witcher fanfiction #witcher fic #the witcher fanfiction #the witcher #the witcher fandom #darkfic #dark fantasy #au #boxofbonesfic #Tonality fic

[cardierreh15]

Zeus Lament

Hold on to your fucking seats y’all! Things get messy! Both for good and for bad!

***I do not give anyone consent to repost, translate or copy my work!!!

Warnings 18+: Angst , Dub-Con Sex , Mind-Control/Mental Manipulation , Infidelity , Mentions of Cheating , Domestic Violence situation , Blood (Golden Celestial) , Nipple Stimulation , Cursing , Spitting , Breeding Kink , Oral (Female Receiving) , Death . PLEASE PROCEED WITH CAUTION!!!

Pairings: Zeus/Walter Marshall x Angela's (Black!Plus Size Female)

Description: A terrible storm is approaching the city, wonder what could possibly be the cause?

Word Count: 5.8K

Song: Only RY X , Call out my name by The Weeknd.

The man sat across from his wife as she ate her fill and sipped on her wine. Everything but her beauty, disgusted him. But lately, even that was faltering. She was evil, jealous and spiteful. The infamous; Goddess of Marriage herself, Hera. 

‘You are quiet today husband.’ She said blandly as she took another sip of her wine to wash down the food in her throat. 

A reluctant smirk curled on his lips before he glanced away and shook his head. A small, hysterical chuckle left his lips before he rested his elbows on the golden table and rested his face in his palms. 

‘You speak to me as if you don’t know what you’ve done, wife.’ The word had poison behind it. It was no secret that Zeus had a loathe over his wife that no man or immortal had ever seen. Some would say with great reason! She’d proved herself to be murderous and invidious on many occasions. 

But, Zeus wasn’t in the right either. 

Sleeping around with mortals in different disguises to hide his true form; impregnating and soiling the oats that have been left untamed thousands of years ago. 

Perhaps, he’d driven her over the edge that she couldn’t retract from. 

Hera peeled her eyes away from her plate of food and glared up at her indignant husband. She tilted her head to the side gently, ‘What is it now, Zeus? You’re angry about that little “accident” that you’ve created? Many of what you’ve called them yourself.’ 

Zeus slammed his palm on the golden plated table, standing up to his feet with a baleful scowl written across his dramatic features. ‘THEY WERE MY CHILDREN!’

‘Your children are here!’ Hera spat hatefully. She had no remorse, no regret. ‘On Olympus where they belong. Not with those disgusting mongrels you call humans. Such a pathetic excuse for creations. Just like-’

‘I’d watch my next words, woman.’ His face, carved into perfection like stone and marble. Zeus stood up straight and swallowed hard. 

She stared back up at him, not breaking the glare. ‘Why do you do it? Why do you constantly put me  through this Zeus? Do you think I want to act the way I do? Do you think I thrive off of being bitter and hateful?! I am only this way because you made me this way!’ 

‘No, you only do this because you don’t give a damn about nobody but yourself!’ 

Hera grimaced and slowly stood to her feet, scooting her throne back behind her. ‘Selfish?! While I SIT HERE AND YOU GO OUT AND FROLIC ABOUT BETWEEN THE THIGHS OF THOSE VILE CREATURES!’ Golden tears filled her bright blue orbs. ‘I sit here and I wait for you, ZEUS!’

‘FOR WHAT!?’ he snapped back. Thunder began to roar beyond the walls. ‘DONT YOU UNDERSTAND?! I don’t want you! I haven’t wanted you in centuries! I only married you in the first place because it was a power move. You were a mistake–’

‘Mistake?! Zeus-’ 

‘You will address me as your King.’ He placed his hands on the table and peered across, ‘I won’t stop, Hera. I will not stop until I have found happiness and created a demi-God army of my own.’

‘Zeus-’

‘YOU WILL NOT STOP ME HERA!’ He exclaimed with great disdain in his voice. He began to round the table slowly, his golden heeled sandals clicking and echoing within the walls. 

Hera snatched up the golden blade she’d used to cut into her roasted goose. 

As soon as she found a good grip around the handle, he’d snatched her up by her throat looking down into her eyes. 

‘Ugh!’ She exclaimed at the sudden roughness. Golden tears had fallen down the sides of her face. 

‘If you interfere with my affairs again, My Queen.’ The word burned the back of his throat. Oh he’d do anything to strip her from that title. Hell, he really did hate her enough to kill her himself. She’d taken so much away from him. 

‘I will kill you… do you understand?’ 

Hera turned her gaze away from him, but he tightened up his grasp. 

Her lips trembled as she looked up into his stormy eyes. ‘You wouldn’t dare…’ she choked out. 

‘Then you don’t know me the way you think you do.’ He added monitorily. His warnings always went undone. Leaving ample room for Hera to continue to disobey him. 

He shoved her away from him before the both of them heard the small call of their youngest daughter, Hebe. 

‘Mama?’

She looked over at the massive golden doors that were cracked open. There she spotted the little face of the tiny goddess. Hera cleared her throat and put on her best smile, ‘Hebe. Darling-’ She approached her with open arms. 

The young one pushed the door open a little further before running towards her mother who was now on her knees. 

‘You’re supposed to be resting my sweet.’ 

‘I couldn’t sleep, mama.’ 

Zeus watched the mother speak to their daughter before he quickly spun off and walked towards the second set of double doors. 

***

The dark clouds loomed up above. Lightning bolts scattered across the sky like veins. The wind blew hard enough to almost tear her apartment building off of the support beams! 

Storms were quite the norm where Angela was from. The lightning capital of the world, Tampa, Florida. She’d lived through countless hurricanes and tropical storms. 

The news measured it out to be a tropical storm, the first one of the season. But something about this particular storm was different than the rest. 

Thunder shook the floor beneath her feet, causing her to stop in her tracks and wait for it to calm down. Angela had never been so anxious during a storm. Hell, this was her favorite kind of weather! But she had a gut feeling something bad was going to happen. 

The woman ripped open the big bag of ice and poured it into the cooler. Then, she began to stock perishable snacks and foods inside of it. 

Once she was done, she did a head count of her 5 gallon dispenser jugs, found her waterproof flashlight with batteries and made sure she had candles.

Angie placed her hands on her hips and gave herself a firm nod, ‘Alright! What could possibly go wrong?’ Another vociferous thunder clap erupted outside, causing lightning to flicker inside of her apartment. Then, the lights flickered off. 

The power died, causing an eerie silence to fill the air. ‘Dammit, running my mouth. I just fucked the whole building.’ She rolled her eyes and picked up her phone. The battery was on 11%. ‘What?!’ She exclaimed as she looked at the charger adaptor that had never been plugged up into the wall. 

‘You’ve got to be shitting me.’ 

She turned on the light on her phone and loaded up the flashlight with batteries and put her phone on Low Power Mode. Clicking the power on the flashlight. She walked down the hall to the electric breaker and pulled it open. 

Shining the light on the labeled switches, she shifted them to the side one and then back to their original places. But nothing. She assumed whatever generator the apartments management used had gone to shit. 

‘Cheap fucks’ she hissed before the flashlight began to flicker. ‘Uh uh! No, no!’ She began to bang on it, hoping it would keep its power but when it died, she let out a heavy huff. ‘Dammit.’

Angela walked back into the kitchen and began to light candles. 

Once the apartment was decorated with artificial light, she walked into her bedroom and took off her dress. 

She walked over to her dresser, lightning taking its own place in her room this time. Again, thunder followed. Not able to stand the blinding brightness, she walked over to the patio doors to close them. But what she saw in her backyard frightened her. 

Air lodged in her throat so she was unable to breathe out or in, she stared at the tall, dark figure that stood in the grass. Heavy, slanted rain blurred out its features but by the size of its shoulders, it had to be a man. 

Whatever the hell it was… it was massive. 

‘Close. The blinds. Angela. Close the blinds.’ She choked before quickly pulling the stick to the side and twisting them closed. 

Stumbling backwards, she let out a shuddered breath. She was afraid to walk to the kitchen and grab her phone; having the slightest belief that somehow the uncanny being would find its way inside without any aid. 

So, she just sat on the bed and stared. 

‘Wooo. It’s OK. Ain’t nobody gonna come out here in this rain…’ she uttered to herself and pulled her comforter back and tucked her chilly legs beneath. 

Every once in a while she would toss and turn. But she always brought her attention back to the blinds. Her anxiety wouldn’t let her rest for a while, until she just closed her eyes and counted. 

*** 

Zeus stood in the shadows of her bedroom. Lightning flickering across his face as he watched the mortal woman sleep soundly. Her soft snores could barely be heard over the rain that beat down against the glass slide door. 

Stepping from the safety of the darkness, Zeus crept over to her bed. His fingertips grazed atop the silky, bronze colored sheets. Once he made it to her, his bright blue eyes searched her face. 

She was a beauty to behold. Full lips, skin brown as cherry wood. Lashes so thick they almost looked like paint brushes. Then, it was her hair. Sprawled out beneath her it was coily and thick. He leaned down carefully, nuzzling his nose within the warmth of her hair. He inhaled deeply, slowly. Taking in her scent. She smelled of Rosemary and Lavender. Two scents he could get lost in forever. 

Pulling away, he grazed his pointy nose over her wide one before gently pressing his lips against hers. Letting his lips settle there, his mustache and beard tickled her chin and nose. Causing her to stir out of her sleep. 

Angela’s dark brown eyes flashed open to see the intruder with a beard and thick dark curly hair hovering over her. Her first reaction was to scream but instead Zeus had tricks of his own. 

‘Shhh, don’t scream.’ 

Her eyes reflected once in gold as she inhaled so hard she thought her head would explode. 

Zeus’ eyes continued to roam her face before traveling down to her neck and then the valley of her breasts. 

‘Wh-who are you? What are you doing in my apartment?’ Angela’s voice was rugged and shaky. But she was careful not to be too loud. 

‘Something you would never be able to comprehend mortal woman.’ His voice was much gentler than how he spoke to Hera just a few days before. 

His eyes broke from her gaze as he carefully ran his palm over her silky flesh; starting from her belly to her thighs but also pulling the blanket off in the process. Revealed onto him was her half naked body, dressed in a white sports bra and matching thong. 

Angela flinched at his cool touch, quickly shifting her hips away from him. ‘Don’t touch—‘ 

‘Don’t fight me.’ He hissed as thunder shook the apartment once again. 

Just like before, she followed his command willingly. She just laid there with tears in her eyes as his large hands began to caress her chubby thighs. ‘Wh-what are you g-gonna do to me?’ Angela stammered. 

‘Anything I please…’ he licked his lips as he looked up at her once again. She was silently sobbing. Tears falling into place of the last on the sides of her head. His thick brows pulled into one before he leaned back over her once again, ‘Oh my sweet one… don’t cry.’ 

Her sobs instantly stopped. 

‘Don’t you know how lucky you are? How special you are?’ Zeus brought his hand up and smooth out her cheek with his knuckles. Then, his index grazed her bottom lip. ‘You don’t have to be scared of me… I won’t hurt you.’

‘I—I have a boyfriend.. we’ve been dating for 3 years and—‘ she lied. ‘And-and he’ll be here soon!’ 

‘Oh? In this weather?’ Zeus said softly as he gently pinched her chin. ‘How romantic or jus plain stupid.’ He purred softly. ‘Tell me sweetheart, have you ever fuck a God?’ 

Angela’s eyes grew slightly, his words rocking her core, ‘N-‘

‘I didn’t think so… you see Angel. You need someone who’s gonna take care of you. In more ways than just… one.’ His index dropped to the valley of her breasts. 

A God?! What the hell was a God doing in her apartment? And why her out of all people? 

‘A God? There’s no way—‘ 

Zeus stared down into her eyes, his eyes flickering a bright gold for a second before fading back to their stormy blue. 

‘Oh my—‘ 

‘Zeus…’ 

Angela stared up at him; her eyes were a cauldron of fear, disbelief, and slight adoration. She had never seen something— something so graceful. So beautiful. ‘B-but why me?’ 

‘Well isn’t it obvious my little love? I have been watching you for weeks. That little inkling you felt of being watched.. It was me. I have been in your corner. You have enough beauty to my own daughter to shame.’ 

Aphrodite would not like that at all. She was much like her mother. Scorned to hell.

‘You’ve been stalking me?!’ 

‘Stalking, watching? Call it whatever you’d like. Fact of the matter is … you’re mine.’ 

His words nestled within her soul, causing whatever frightened feeling she had left to dissipate. In an instant, she felt protected. Perhaps it was his magic, controlling her mind and messing with her chemical imbalances. Whatever it was… it made her feel good. 

Zeus leaned down once again, lips almost touching hers. ‘Let me have you.’ 

Closing her eyes, ‘Yes.’ She uttered before parting her lips to welcome him in a kiss. 

Without another moment wasted, Zeus took her lips into his. He slithered his thick tongue into her mouth as his hand slithered down between her thighs. He grasped the thin fabric into his fist and tugged it; instantly tearing it to shreds. 

Angela’s fingers instantly found their way in his soft thick, dark locks which seem never ending. She barely noticed the absence of her panties until he was pushing her thighs part. The warmth from ecstasy was keeping her warm until he pressed his cold fingertips against her sensitive nub. 

‘Ooh.’ She gasped softly, her hips buckling for a second. ‘Cold.’

‘Forgive me little love.’ He began to rub at her core before slipping his middle and ring inside of her sticky entrance. 

Angela shuddered out in a moan, goosebumps prickling all over her skin, nipples hardening against her thin bra. 

She ripped her eyes away from his haunting gaze and looked down to watch him knead her from the inside out. She gripped the sheets beneath her. Her chest caving in as she tried to breathe through the pleasure. She wanted so badly to do something with her legs, kick and flail them about but she was still under his command. Don’t fight me. 

‘Ugh!’ She exclaimed as Zeus curled his fingers up and toyed with her G-spot. 

A wicked grin curled on his face as he watched her writhe and buck her hips into his embrace. He pressed his forehead against hers. 

Angela opened her mouth to speak but her words instantly became gibberish and a bed of incoherent moans. 

‘If you want it my sweet, all you have to do is ask.’ 

She felt her lower belly twist and knot, causing her thighs to clench as she felt her climax creeping up. It felt so close yet, so far. Wait, was he controlling that?! 

‘Can I — can I cum, please?’ She placed her hand on his shoulder, her nails gently digging into it through the cloth of his shirt. 

Zeus chuckled menacingly, ‘As you wish.’ 

His words were like some kind of invisible trigger, she was the chemical reaction that shifted the bullet in place and fired off the gunpowder. 

Angela inhaled hard before a satisfied scream erupted from her lungs. Her head fell back against her plush pillow, body trembling as she tried to comprehend that kind of intensity. 

He finally pulled his fingers from the warm home of her. ‘I can provide you with so much more. Would you like that?’ His sticky fingers grazed her neck. 

‘Yes. I-I need you.’ 

That stomach twisting smile curled up once again against his beard. He was to die for. 

Zeus stood up, bringing her small hand in his grasp and bringing her up to her feet. Her legs wobbly from the previous assault on her womb and cunt. 

‘Then you have me, my little love.’ 

He towered over her like a mountain. Him sitting on her bed made him seem so much smaller that way. Zeus leaned down, pressing his lips against hers once more as his clothes disappeared. 

She wrapped her arms around his wide frame as he pulled her chubby body against toned muscles. Angela pulled away from the kiss. Her big brown eyes trailed from his face to his shoulders, and abdomen. ‘Wow…’ her hands slipped from his shoulders and down his abdomen. ‘You’re really… real.’

‘As real as you are my love.’ 

She wasn’t expecting a God, no— the infamous King Of Gods to be so… kind. History made him out to be a spineless shithead. But this being before him was everything but that. 

Or was that what he was making her think? 

‘Lay back. Get comfortable.’ 

Following his command, Angela sat back down on her bed and laid back against her pillows. 

Zeus stood at the end of the bed before crawling in and spreading her thighs. He lowered his head between her legs as he rested on his front side. Then, he planted soft kisses on her inner thighs, navigating his lips to her flower. 

He placed the flattening of his tongue on her slit before lapping up slowly until he found her clit and brought it between his lips. 

‘Mmmm, yess.’ She moaned out as she reached down and found her fingers intertwined in his locks once again. 

He sucked teasingly on her clit before letting it go with a pop, then flicking his tongue over it. He used her pussy as if it were her mouth instead. Licking, and kissing with passion and a purpose. 

‘Ooooh Zeus just like that. Mmmm.’ Angela moaned as she rolled and rocked her hips into his face.

Her words only fueled his desire and want for her. He grabbed her thighs and pushed them back so he could satisfy her in a more efficient way. More exposed, Zeus was about to dip his tongue within her walls and lick her from the inside out. Every once in a while though, his tongue would slip and tickle at her puckered asshole.

Angela leaned up on her elbows, her breathing shallow as she watched this celestial being indulge on her body in the most sinful of ways. He was just wicked in that way. Honestly, if it weren’t for the immense pleasure he was inflicting upon her– she would’ve thought this was a dream. ‘Uhhh fuck!’ 

Zeus relished in her taste. She tasted the most delectable of forbidden treats. He wanted to keep his face buried between her thighs for as long as the Earth rotated but the way his hips grind against the bed to soothe his aching member… Zeus was more than ready to claim her. 

Letting out a gentle grunt at the pleasure that burned at his lower gut, Zeus’ lips ghosted her inner thigh before placing a gentle kiss there. 

She had just begun to recover from her profound orgasms. Her thighs trembled, almost mimicking the sound of thunder outside. ‘Oh! Fuu—‘ 

Zeus brought himself up on his knees. His naked body resembled the ancient marble that were carved in Greece thousands of years ago. Except that one particular thing. 

Humans once believed that men that wielded such large members lacked intelligence and were compared to violent, brainless, sex-crazed creatures.

Actually, Zeus’ cock had been tampered to be quite the insignificant thing but now… it was no wonder he made stupid decisions.

With distinguishable veins traveling over his Adonis belt, that was a sign of healthy blood flow. He was hung like nothing she’d ever seen. The whole package really. 

‘Jesus- oh… I mean…’ Angela whimpered softly as she finally pulled her eyes away from his cock. ‘Wow… you are… not what I expected.’ 

Zeus smirked and began to crawl over her, closing that gap between them. ‘You’ve must’ve seen the statues. Are you afraid?’ His smile had grown slightly bigger. 

She let out a soft breath. Well, she had a lot of reasons to be afraid right now. One of them being that a celestial God that had been known for his treachery was laying between her legs! 

‘Mmm. No.’ She lied again. 

‘Then we shall make haste.’ He said before helping her get her sports bra from over her head. Her breasts were so round, large and supple. His tongue traced over his lips as he tried to calm the beast that was so desperately fighting to get free. 

Then, his eyes flicked up back to hers, ‘Are you ready my sweet?’ 

Swallowing hard, Angela nodded as her hands gently rested against his cool muscular back. 

Zeus had given her a sly smile before adjusting his hips. His thick bell shaped tip against her honey coated pussy. And before he made the final blow, he pressed his lips against hers. Their tongues slipped in one another’s mouth once again for a short moment before he pulled away slightly. 

‘Bite down on me if it hurts…’ 

Angela nodded one more time before bringing him back into another kiss. 

As they kissed, Zeus thrusted his hips forward only slipping just the tip in. A wince left his chest as he felt the piercing pain of her biting down into his bottom lip. It was too late to pull back now. So he began to sink his hips into her further. This earned him a loud wail from her but the piercing continued. 

Gritting his teeth to bear the pain, Zeus let out a groan as he went as deep as he possibly could. 

Angie had released his hold on his lips and looked up at him with terror in her eyes. Half from the brutal stretch and half from his lips and beard coated in shiny gold blood. 

‘Ugh! — Oh My— Zeus, is that? My God— you’re bleeding!’ 

Zeus pressed his fingers against his lips and examined it, ‘Yes. It appears that I am.’

‘Well, are you alright?!’ She exclaimed in worry. 

He couldn’t help the gentle feeling that came over him. The feeling of knowing someone cared for him. He knew that his wife did… but not in the way he felt from Angela. Hera only wanted her throne and position of power. She’d otherwise be nothing without him. But, Angela… no other human woman had shown such compassion and kindness. Even if… some of this was against her will. 

‘I’m fine my little mortal… see?’ 

Zeus brushed his thumb over his wounds and they healed in an instant. Only the blood remained and would serve as a reminder that he could also be hurt too. 

Letting out a breath in relief she grabbed his face and pressed the back of her hand against his bearded jaw. 

He brought back his hips slowly and steadily before thrusting forward once again. He held back a moan that always slipped between his lips. 

But Angela let out a whimper as her nails dug into his flesh a little. 

Zeus soon began to pick up the rhythm of his hips, creating a bit more friction. Now he wasn’t holding back his moans. She felt way too good to front over. 

Angela felt so uncomfortably full at first but then a surge of pleasure began to pump through her body like drugs. She’s had great sex before but nothing could compare to this! Her standards have completely changed and if it wasn’t him… then she didn’t want it. 

‘Ooooo! Zeus, fuck that’s so fucking good baby. Haaa! Don’t stop!’

‘Uhhhh. I’m not my love, we can go for as—URGH! As long as you like.’ 

Their moans echoed throughout her room and was enough to combat the lightning that was striking nearby and the thunder that shook the building. They were in a world of their own at this point. 

Zeus brought up Angela’s thigh and rested her leg over his shoulder. He began to pump deeper, harder and faster. ‘Ooh fuck… you feel so fucking amazing.’ He moaned out before leaning down and wrapping his lips around her hardened nipple. 

‘Zeus, just like that—‘ her fingers slipped through his hair as his tongue tickled and teased over the sensitive flesh. She could feel her womb twisting and turning just the same as it did earlier. ‘Mmm, I’m so close. Fuuuuuuck!’ She called out.

He’d begun to pump his hips faster, groaning and grunting against her breast. 

Her thighs began to tremble as an ineffable climax rocked through her, ‘AUGHHH! FUCK!’ She cried out. 

Leaving one last lick to her nipple, Zeus slowed down his thrusts and brought her lips back in for another kiss as he moaned against them. ‘Fuck you’re so warm. I can stay buried inside you forever.’ He growled before placing wet kisses under her chin and her neck. 

A sheepish grin was casted on Angela’s lips as she just tried to process that vehement orgasm that she’d just passed. Her lips quivered and her chest heaved as she gently clawed down the valley of his spine. ‘Mmmm, My God… I want you here forever.’ 

Zeus began to pick up the pace of his hips once more as his lips began to make their way back up to hers once again. He couldn’t get enough of how she tasted. He couldn’t remember the last time he and The Queen kissed. Probably centuries ago when Hebe was born. Other than the birth of his sweet child, The Goddess of Youth, there was no other reason to remember that day. 

After sending Angela in a whirlwind of mind-bending orgasms, he pulled away to stand on his knees. ‘Lay on your front side.’ On command, she rolled over and got comfortable. He leaned down to press kisses on her shoulder before his cleft nose drug across her misty, prickly skin. She smelled so good and she felt so warm. 

He carefully spread her thighs with his knees as he sat back up. Stroking his throbbing cock, he used his hand to navigate her entrance this time. Time wasn’t wasted this go around, so he thrusted his hips forward into her. 

The both of them let out a synchronized groan; Zeus threw his head back; quickly coming to his senses that he would not last long in this position. He had the perfect bird’s eye view of her ass and his cock sliding in and out. He was no better than a mortal man now. 

‘Mmmm.’ Angela groaned, feeling so much pressure and pleasure against her wet walls. She began to grip the sheets in her fist, knowing that it was going to be a bumpy ride.

Zeus caressed his hands up from her thick thighs to her chubby waist. There, he gripped tightly before he started to accelerate. ‘Ugh, shit- yeah. Haaaah.’ He groaned as he thrusted hard and fast. 

Her pretty dark brown eyes rolled to the back of her head as she could already feel her body betraying her once more. ‘Fuck yes! Yes, yes, yes, yes! ZEUS!’ Angela whined out. She slipped her hand beneath herself and began to toy with her clit as he destroyed her from behind. 

The glorious sounds of her angelic songs and his skin crashing and pounding against hers fueled his desire once more. His eyes had shifted from their humanly blue to the color of the blistering sun. His moans were deeper and inhuman. He sounded more of a beast now than he did of a man. Beads of sweat prickled across his forehead, shoulders and his torso. 

His grip on Angela’s hip grew tighter as he reached over and gripped her ponytail, pinning her into her pillow. 

‘Ooh right there baby! Fuck baby you’re gonna make me cum again. Oooh shit!’ 

And just like the flip of a switch, she’d turn into putty in his grasp. But this only encouraged him to keep going. Not like the last time when he decided to give her a break. No, he wanted to rip those orgasms away from her and have her crawling come morning. 

‘OOH DEAR FUCKING– ZEUS!’ Angela wept; tears had soon fallen down the side of her face. 

‘Uh huh! Call out for your God baby.’ 

Orgasm after orgasm, Zeus’ thrusts had become staggered and arrhythmic. He was losing the battle. So, he rested his body atop hers and slowly began to thrust his hips into her. ‘Angela…fuck. I’m gonna give you– ugh! Such a beautiful baby.’ 

She didn’t think, and perhaps she thought he wasn’t serious but when she pressed her ass into him as he nestled deep inside her.

She was sadly mistaken. 

‘UH! FUCK– GAAAHHH!’ 

Zeus had finally unraveled, releasing thick and rich ropes of semen inside of her. He throbbed, gently stretching her out as he bred her. His body shook as the thunder roared with a vengeance outside. ‘Uh…’ He couldn’t speak. 

Angela rolled her hips beneath him, milking him from everything he had. She looked back at him just in time to see his golden hues disappear in the darkness of his ghostly blues. His thick curls were slightly damp from the work out and his parted lips had turned up into a relieved smile. Angela returned the smile and stretched her neck up to kiss him. 

***

The Next Morning… 

Her eyes fluttered open, her tired eyes fixated on the ceiling for a moment. She groaned softly as she slowly turned over to see an empty side of the bed. It was messy, and a telltale sign that he was once here.

She placed her hand on the vacant sheets and ran her hand over them. Still warm… it was then when she’d noticed that her patio blinds were open. The sun had beamed in on that empty space and kept it heated. 

Funny, she had her blinds closed and her window was open across the room. 

Suddenly, she heard a booming voice… deep with a pretty and very familiar accent. 

‘Zeus.’ She uttered excitedly as she scooted herself out of her King sized bed and wrapped the sheets around her. Almost losing her footing, she rushed out her room and down the hall where the voice became distinguishable. He was here! Wow, he was still here! 

Cutting the corner, there he stood in her kitchen with a phone pressed against his ear. He flashed her a bright smile and a wink. 

Returning the gracious smile, her eyes roamed down to his belt where a flashy police badge rested on his hip. Confusion instantly struck her and her smile had faltered. She managed to walk up behind him and sneak his wallet out of his back pocket. When she opened it up, she felt as if air had been snatched out of her lungs. 

Walter Marshall. DOB: 05/05/1983. Issued Date: 07/23/2020 Expiration Date: 05/05/2026 

‘What are you doing with that?’

Almost jumping out of her skin, ‘Huh?’ She looked down at his wallet and looked back up at him. He folded his arms across his massive chest. He’d had this slightly amused smirk curled up on those lips. ‘I-... I don’t know -just…’ She just handed it back to him and swallowed her spit. 

‘Mmmm, maybe you need more rest. You worked double last night, I’m surprised you’re awake!’ He reached over and placed a kiss on her temple. 

‘Double?’

‘Yeah? At the hospital? The storm came in and almost destroyed the city.’ Now confusion was written on his face. 

And they were confused together. 

‘...The hospital. Alright… And you were?’

‘I was at the precinct. They had us shelter in place… hey, what’s going on are you feeling alright, Ang?’ 

Angela cleared her throat and let out a sigh. She was just about to tell him about this crazy dream she’d had until she saw a little frame of them on the bartop. She was dressed in a gorgeous white dress and he wore this chic black and white tuxedo. His beard was gone and his hair was cut to perfection. 

She quickly brought up her left hand, gazing at the big sparkly teardrop diamond that sat delicately on her finger. My, it was by far the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. 

Suddenly, a flood of memories brought her back to her current reality. Perhaps the impact of working so hard and that storm had her a little delusional. 

‘I’m alright, Walter. I just had this… crazy dream.’ 

‘Hmph, must’ve been! Here, let’s talk about it over breakfast-’

‘NO!’

Walter paused for a second as his thick brows pulled into one.

‘It’s just… Has someone ever told you that you kind of favor Zeus?’

His cheekbones turned pink and glanced to the side, ‘You mean Zeus like the God?’

She nodded. 

‘No, mama. Is that what your dream was about, baby? I was a Greek God?’

When he said it, she just felt so damn stupid. She was embarrassed for even bringing it up. ‘Just forget it.. I don’t want to talk about it.’ 

Walter reached over and grabbed her hand, ‘Aw baby girl, don’t be embarrassed. C’mon we’ve all had silly dreams before… tell me what happened.’ He pulled her close and placed a kiss on her cheek. 

‘Well… we… erm.’ 

He tilted his head to the side as his large hands traced up and down her body. 

Angela cleared her throat as she looked up at him, ‘We were–..’

‘Would you like to show me what we did in the dream? You know I've always learned better by touch and physical interaction.’ 

She stared up at him as a slow grin curled up on her lips. ‘As tempting as that sounds baby, um… i think you’re burning the bacon.’ 

And on cue, the smoke alarm blared in the kitchen. Dark gray smoke floated up to the ceiling. 

‘Shit!’ Walter exclaimed as he gently pushed her away and rushed to the stove. He choked as the stench burned at his throat and lungs. He reached over and turned off the knob and let out a gentle sigh.

‘Woman you’re a distraction…’ He turned half way with a gentle smile on his lips, ‘Get some clothes on. We’re going to breakfast. My treat.’

Inhaling deeply through her nose, she gave him a smile in approval, ‘If there are grits involved then I’m in.’ 

‘Good, I know a spot.’ He said with a smirk, watching her glide back in their bedroom. 

His smirk instantly faded, the glow of gold reflected in his gaze. 

He picked up the pan that was now coated in black soot and threw the scraps in the trash. Then, he dropped the pan in the sink. 

Walter squirted some dish soap over the scrubber and began to do away with the burnt food. Suddenly, a  soft yellow light glowed in his peripheral. He paused his movement, ‘As what do I owe the pleasure,’ he lifted his head, ‘Hera.’ 

The Goddess stood tall, her eerie gaze reflected in her eyes. Her blonde hair had specks of gold in her locks. She wore a royal white satin toga with gold trimmings. Nose and lips swollen and pink from all of the sobbing. He’d been gone for days. Living a fantasy that he’d created. 

‘The children ask of you, Zeus.’ 

‘The children are old enough to take care of themselves. And I thought I told you to address me as, Your King.’ He gently brought a dirty knife from out of the sink and placed it in his belt. 

Hera inhaled deeply, and watched him round the counter to join her in the dining room. ‘It’s Hebe. She misses you… I… miss you. Why can’t you come home? Why can’t you be with your real family? You don’t belong here.’ 

‘And you know where I belong?’

‘Why must you be so cantankerous?! You have a family. And it is your duty as a father, as a King, as a God—‘ 

‘My family is… here. I have everything I could possibly want here. Those insubordinate, spoiled and treacherous adults you call children—‘ 

‘You don’t talk about them that way!’ She exclaimed with tears filling her eyes once more. 

‘I will talk of them however I want. Now, I know when I left Olympus I told you not to stand in my way… and yet you come here… you disturb me.’ He walked closer to her as she took a few steps back. ‘What should I tell our children once they discover that you’re dead hmm.’ 

‘Zeus..’ she trembled as a tear fell down her face, ‘Please… it doesn’t have to be like this.’ 

‘Oh but my vindictive wife… it does. See— you have pushed me away for centuries.. you don’t truly love me. Not really, only when I lie with other women— that’s the only time you actually give a damn. In the meantime, you’ve taken everything’ Zeus hissed through his teeth — ‘from me. Now I have everything I want… and you won’t ever come in between that ever again.’ 

‘My King. Please, I will leave — I will — ugh!’ Hera gasped as she felt a sharp, stabbing pain in her ribs. She hiccuped before looking down to see Zeus’ hand on the handle of a kitchen butcher knife, with the blade delved between her rib cage. ‘Hyuck!’ 

‘Ive started with you, My Queen… my new wife will take your place on the throne and I will rid my bloodline of those foul, demented children you claim belong to me. They will join you soon.’ Zeus snatched the blade from the wound and watched her fall to her knees. 

Hera collapsed on her back; wheezing as her golden blood leaked from her nose and gargled out the side of her mouth. ‘Mmm—mmm.’ She held onto her wound tightly. 

Zeus squatted down, pushing her golden locks out of her face, ‘Don’t fight love. Death is such a beautiful thing. Peaceful if I might add.’ A deranged smile curled on his lips as he watched her take her last breath with a final tear falling down her face. 

Her bright golden eyes had faded to a lifeless gray, her hair turned gray as heavy rain clouds and her once lively skin was deathly pale. 

He pressed his lips together and inhaled deeply, ‘GoodBye Hera.’ 

‘Hey honey I was think—‘ 

Angela had walked down the hallway, plugging her earrings into her ears when she saw the gruesome sight. Her heart had sunk to the pit of her stomach and her mouth had fallen open in shock. 

Zeus snapped his head over his shoulder to look back at her. His eyes still shined their brilliant gold and he still held that bloodied knife in his grip. He defensively stood to his feet. 

‘Wh-wh-wh-‘ she began to hyperventilate. She grabbed the chest of her shirt in her fist as if she could grab her heart itself. Angela stumbled back as tears filled her eyes with fear. 

‘Ooooh my sweet petal.’ He smirked as he tossed the blade to the floor, then his eyes returned to their gentle blue, ‘You weren’t supposed to see that.’

‘That?!’ She gasped, ‘Oh my god— the dream… it was true! It was real! You’re toying with me!’ 

Zeus inhaled deeply, slowly blinking once, ‘As real as you are… you’ve no need to be afraid of me. I told you I’d protect you and I intend on keeping my promise, wifey.’ He brought his hand up, flashing the golden wedding band on his finger. 

‘Who is that woman on my floor?’ Angie shuddered out, placing her hand on her stomach to mellow out her queasiness. 

‘Oh… her? If you must know… Hera. She was my wife. Former Queen.’ 

Angela gasped and covered her mouth with her hands, ‘Wh—what did you do?! Why did you do that to her?!’ 

‘She sought to kill you, woman. Why must you question me!? I SAVED YOUR LIFE!’ 

‘And how do you know?!’

‘BECAUSE I KNOW HER!’ Zeus exploded, ‘Every chance she got to make me miserable and take away those who are near and dear to me, she did and without contrition! In a few days time she would’ve inflicted some rare form of cancer upon you or had one of her loyal servants come and slit your throat or worse…’

‘W-worse?’ Angela murmured. 

Zeus’ tearful gaze had fallen upon her belly before looking down. ‘You are with child, Angela. My child.’ 

Angela gasped at the news, tears filling her eyes and quickly spilling over. ‘No, no. That can’t be!’ 

‘It is Angela and I eliminated her so our child could have the best possible chance to grow and succeed in the future… so I can have the proper heir… from a woman that I truly love and truly adore— Angela, don’t you get it?’ 

He took a step forward and she took a step back. 

‘This. Is. destiny. A start of a new era, a new beginning… I never intended to be with Hera. I never loved her… she doesn’t make me feel the way you do.’ 

A sob ripped through Angela’s chest, ‘And how am I to make you feel? I’m just a mere stranger you came and took advantage of!’ 

‘No! No. You’re much more than that my little love… you make me feel… human. Gentle… fair.’ He approached her carefully with his hands out. ‘My entire ruling as King of Gods, I’ve been used… abused in all aspects of the word… I’ve never been treated normally… but being here with you, Angela. You make me feel heard. When you look at me I don’t see anger or hate.’ 

Angela looked up at him as she wiped her nose with her wrist and sniffed. 

‘I see a bright future,’ he added as he took her hands into his, ‘Where you sit by my side as my Queen… and we rule Olympus and the Overworld… just the way it’s intended to be. Just—‘

She stared up at him, not able to form words because she was so consumed by fear and confusion.  ‘I could make you a Goddess. Make all your dreams come true my little love… just say… yes.’

tags: @critfailroll @itsrubberbisquit @peternoonewantsthat @ellethespaceunicorn @deandoesthingstome @luxeydior @wa-ni @milknhonies @swiss-mrs @angreav @singeramg @ylva-syverson @amesensibles @ramp-it-up @lainiespicewrites @toooldforobsessions @kingliam2019

#henry cavill #henry cavill x black reader #henry cavill fanfic #walter marshall #Walter marshall x black!plus size female oc #Zeus!Walter Marshall #henry cavill x plus size reader #henry cavill fanfiction #Henry cavill x black!female oc #Henry cavill smut #Walter Marshall smut #henry cavill characters #Henry cavill x black!oc #Zeus #walter marshall fanfiction #Walter marshall x black!oc #black!oc #black!plus size female oc #black!reader #smut fic

[ramp-it-up]

Two Most Wanted Pt. 4...Anytime you Like

Pairing: Syverson x OFC Reader "Buttercup"

Summary: You have your way with Sy. Or is it him having his way with you? 🧐

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI. RPF. S MUT, talk of birth control, Graphic sex. Fingering, manual sex (f receiving) oral, Dom Sy is coming out to play, degredation AND praise kink, dirty talk kink, begging, raw p in v, size kink, pleasurable pain, rough sex, copious amounts of bodily fluids, some fluff and just a lil' angst at the end. This is 2.5k of porn with a teeny tiny bit of plot.

Read at your own risk.  Not Beta’d. All errors my own.

A/N:  This is the fourth installment of II Most Wanted. I'm in love with these two; they are bringing my writer heart back to life. If you like it, please reblog and comment.

I don't have a taglist. Please follow @rampitupandread and turn on notifications to learn when I post! 😘

I Do NOT Consent to my work being reposted, translated or presented on any other blog or site other than by myself.

Previous part here

------

Sy gladly let you pull him into your rental.

Then, he took control.

He pushed you against the wall and placed his hands on your waist, bending down because of the height difference, even though you were wearing four inch-heels. You’d missed how tiny he made you feel.

Sy’s mouth was so close to yours as he queried you. His eyes were so intense.

“You’re not done with me yet, eh?”

You pouted and his lips tenderly touched yours, deepening the kiss as you parted your lips. His tongue insisted that you belonged to him and yours agreed, the two dancing passionately.

“Good girl. Opening up for me like that.”

Your head was spinning and you whined in your throat. 

“Hm.” 

Sy grunted and then smiled before he kissed you again. You were glad for the wall as you were weak for him again. 

“Whatcha wanna do with me, Buttercup?”

Sy’s fingers were on your ribcage now, his large hands spanning your torso. Then, his hands were everywhere as he explored your body, from your breasts over your dress, to your back, down to your ass, which he squeezed as his mouth possessed yours again.

“I want to be your cum slut, Sy. Want you inside me.”

Sy stopped moving, resting his forehead on yours and his hands on your hips. He huffed into your face.

“Holy shit, Buttercup. I thought I was calm after what that mouth of yours did in the Bronco. But what that mouth of yours says…”

Sy’s hand was on your jaw and you turned your head to capture his thumb and suck it. 

“Wan’ you to fill me up, Sy.”

You looked him straight in the eye as he pressed the rock hard length in his pants against you. His pupils were blown and you felt enormous power.

“Hm. The thoughts you think, Buttercup.”

Sy examined your face as he questioned you, his blue eyes making you shiver.

“You want me to fuck you raw…?”

You smiled at his lewd suggestion and the gravel in his voice, and lifted your arms, placing them on his shoulders, standing on tiptoe to whisper in his ear. 

“I’m on the pill. And tested regularly. But only if you want to.”

The expression on his face was priceless.

“If I want to? Hell, Buttercup. I’ve wanted this for 20 years. Jesus, it's really happening.”

He looked as if he would devour you.

An unexpected joy at his want caused a giggle to bubble up in your throat as Sy rolled you around the corner, further into the room, and started trailing kisses down your jaw to your neck right below your ear. His hand was on your ass as you started to grind on air. He remembered your spot.

“Fuck, Sy!”

His other hand came up around your neck and tightened to let you know who was in charge, and you whimpered as he looked down at you and grinned.

You pouted at him, frustrated because you wanted to feel all of the things at once.

Sy’s hands roamed, finding your waist again and lifting your feet off the ground as he kissed you, making you heated at the show of his power. He set you down again, squeezing your breasts and sucking the tops of them in your dress as you writhed in his grip. 

“Let me see you in the light, Buttercup.”

He reached around and wasted no time in pushing his shirt off your shoulders and unzipping your dress to let it fall to the floor.

Sy stepped back and took all of you in. You felt like a piece of art as he studied you. You concentrated on not covering up. 

This was a long time in coming.

“Damn, Buttercup. You’re so beautiful. All of you. Better’n my dreams.”

Sy looked into your eyes after taking in your curves. Hungry.

“Kiss me, Sy.”

He did as you asked, hands on your breasts now, kneading them and weighing them in his hands, his thumbs thrumming you like an instrument. He kissed you fiercely, then looked into your eyes again as he slid down to inhale you, mouth sliding over your flesh, between, underneath, on top, and finally, sucking your nipples into his mouth with abandon.

You moaned as your pussy pulsed with need.

“Sy…please…”

“Don’t rush me now, baby. I’m gonna savor this.”

He kissed you again, and then slid his hand down your torso to your pussy, finding you still so wet for him.

“Hm. Such a good girl, with such a good pussy. Here. See.”

He held your gaze as he brought his fingers up and put them into your mouth, making you taste yourself.

It was so dirty that you practically came from the taste of your desire for Jacob Syverson. 

“Thaaaat’s a girl. Get ‘em even wetter.”

He removed his hand and brought it back down to your cunt.

“I want you to cum for me. Right now.”

“S-Yyyyyyy!”

Most of his fingers went inside you while his thumb stroked your clit. He practically lifted you off the ground as he fucked you with his hand, watching your face as he alternated marking you up and sucking your nipples hard.

“So fuckin’ hot, Buttercup. Good girl.”

His voice was doing things to you. Sy grinned and his eyebrow arched as he felt you clench on his fingers. He brought his mouth close to your ear.

“Which is it, Buttercup? Are you a cum slut, or a good girl?”

Your head went back into the wall as you moaned, baring your throat to him again.

“Or is it both? Are you my good little cum slut?”

“Oh my fucking godddddd!!!!”

You came in his arms and Sy watched you, his mouth open in awe. He couldn’t wait anymore.

He picked you up and carried you into the bedroom, dropping you on the bed as he took off his shoes and clothes. You sat up to look at him.

He was massive. Sy had matured from a lithe youth to a grown man and he was thick all over. The curls on his head continued on his face and on his chest, a dark rush of it pointing down to his cock, which you knew was big, because you’d tried to swallow it earlier. But seeing it like this, hard and throbbing, curved against his hairy stomach, large mushroom tip leaking, thick shaft throbbing, made you lean back with your legs open. 

‘I want that,’ you thought.

Sy took it in his hand and started stroking, causing precum to drip out and you to lick your lips.

“You’re about to get it, Buttercup. Anything you want. Look so fucking beautiful all laid out for me.”

You smiled as you realized you’d said that out loud and you opened your legs wider as he climbed between them. He handled you like a rag doll as he grabbed your thighs and pulled you closer to his legs as he knelt on the bed. He grabbed your knees and spread your legs up and apart as his long thick cock slid in between your legs, smearing your wetness all along the underside of his shaft.

“Mmmmmmmm, Sy, want more.”

He was skating in your slick, driving you wild with the tease of the cap of his cock catching on your clit as he moved back and forth.

“Patience, Buttercup. Need to lube myself up with your cream.”

Sy was enjoying how wet you were and the fact that he was actually between your legs after all this time. He watched, almost mesmerized, at his cock moving through your folds, and his dick jumped, slapping you on the clit and making you moan.

“Pleasepleasepleaseplease… OH shitttt. It’s too much!”

You’d gone from begging for his dick to pleading for mercy as his thick head breached you. You stared at Sy wide eyed as he grabbed his shaft and stopped moving. His heart clenched at the thought of hurting you.

“You good? Want me to…”

He made to pull out and then you implored him.

“No! I mean, it’s so big, Sy… but I want it. Need. It.”

You grabbed your breasts as you felt him cock jump within you.

“More, please.”

“Mmmmmmoooooahhhh,” Sy groaned deeply as he slowly eased into you and at the vision of you pulling your own nipples as he stretched out your soul. 

He bottomed out and licked your exposed neck, causing you to shudder in his hands, which were gripping your ribcage. You looked like sin and felt like heaven around him. 

“You good, Buttercup? Please say you’re good. I need you to be good, baby. ‘Cause I need to fuck you so bad….”

Sy was panting and his heartbeat was erratic.

As always, his words made you gush wetness and you arched as you kissed him, laying down fully and bringing your hands to his short curls.

“I’m good Sy,” you looked him in the eyes. “So fucking good, all full of you. Fuck me. Please… ah!”

As soon as you said ‘fuck me,’ Sy started moving slowly, dragging sparks with with each millimeter of movement inside you.

“More…”

You whispered it as all of your senses came alive and were overwhelming you. 

Sy sped up and looked from your eyes to his cock destroying your pussy. He couldn’t focus on one thing for too long, your face, your hair splayed out beneath you, hour breasts with nipples erect and bouncing, the way he was moving you like a doll as he helped himself deliver the dick to your pussy.

“Good god Buttercup. This cunt is so tight and wet and hot for me. Shit, you stretched around me is so much better than my imagination….”

“Ooooh. Sy. Feels so…Your cock goes so deep.”

It had never been like this before. With anyone.

Sy gave you a mischievous grin as he leaned back and grabbed your knees, bringing them up and bending you in half so that he could plunge even deeper inside you.

Your head shot up to witness him ravaging you as he slowly fucked you with long and deep strokes. You dug your nails into his forearms, holding on for dear life. He fucked you so good that you gouged scratches down his arm and the pain sparked a new pleasure in him that he didn’t know he needed at the moment.

He was inspired to fuck you better, faster, harder.

Sy reached up behind your head and pulled it down by the thick curls at your nape as he leaned over you, caging you in with his massive body as he thoroughly and soundly tried to put you under the bed.

Your belly tightened, your insides in a vice grip of pleasure as you tried to run. There was nowhere to go, however, as Sy was all around you. He felt you tense up, heard your whimper and kept a steady pace, his balls tight against him, the notion of making you cum with just his cock a long held ideal.

“What’s wrong Buttercup?”  

He looked you in the eyes before he kissed your lips.

“Afraid to let go? Don’t want to let me have the cum I’ve been waiting for?”

“Unh! Sy…”

You felt him in your belly, thick in your channel like he was made of you. You knew what was about to happen. And you wanted to get away from it.

Sy read the look on your face.

“Unh unh. You’re going to stay and take my cock like a woman. Not gonna run. You’re gonna take this orgasm, gimme your cum like I deserve it.”

Sy didn’t let up on the intensity, but he looked down and surveyed what he was doing to you.

“Look at all that beautiful cream. Looks so fucking good. Making me drool.”

You had an out of body experience as you watched the saliva leave Sy’s mouth and drip onto your clit and as soon as it made contact, you came, gushing more fluid in between you two.

Sy pounded you through it for a few thrusts, then he pulled out and rushed to collect some of you on his tongue.

“Goddamn. So fucking good, Buttercup. Taste yourself.”

He was up again and before you could protest, was back inside you, hand on your throat as he kissed you hard and deep, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as his resolute pounding and the taste of your cum combined. He trailed his hand down your neck to your breast, rolling your nipple for a second before finding your hand and holding it above your head as he looked into your eyes. 

Suddenly, he became tender, looking as if he was about to say something that you didn’t want to hear, so your other hand found his ass as you encouraged him to find his own end.

“Gimme your cum, Sy. You owe me. Some. Cum.”

He licked his lips at the filth you were uttering and responded in kind.

“Anything you want, Buttercup. I’ve got so much, you’ll be leaking for days.”

You arched your back and bit your lip at his words and as the music of skin slapping on skin intensified. You felt yourself tighten impossibly around him again. And so did Sy.

“Oh…. no….” 

You felt as if you couldn’t take another, but Sy wasn’t done with you yet.

“Oh, yes, baby. Just give me one… more….”

Sy’s thumb found your clit and as you came around him, he emptied all he had inside you.

“You feel like…like heaven, Buttercup.”

Your hands were on his face as you watched his ecstasy and as he pumped more and more of his seed inside you. You smiled and kissed his forehead as his head bent in exhaustion. You wanted to say that he was beautiful, but that would be more than you wanted to convey. You just kissed his lips when he looked back up at you again, and you collapsed on your sides, your bodily fluids between you and his slowly softening cock still inside you.

Sy pushed your hair back from around your sweaty face.

“Look, Buttercup, I know that you are holding back. But you can’t stop me from saying it again.”

“Sy-”

“Shhhh, Buttercup.”

Sy smiled. Handsome wasn’t the word.

“I love you. ‘Til the day I die.”

He brought your hand up to his mouth, kissing your knuckles.

“I know you’re still trying to process everything, and I can only imagine all of the things that are going on in that beautiful brain of yours, but you’re mine. I’m claiming you. Whether it's for the rest of our lives, or just for this weekend.”

You just looked at him and nodded, emotional and unable to speak.

“Just want you to know where I stand. This wasn’t just notalgia sex.”

He slipped out of you and rolled over on his back before he got up and headed toward the bathroom.

“And for whatever time period I have you, I’m yours. Anytime you like, Buttercup.”

He looked back at you with a saucy grin as he caught you ogling his ass.

You stared at the ceiling as you listened to him turn on the water. There was a lot going on in your head, but Sy had just told you that he wanted you and simultaneously taken the pressure off this weekend.

You thought about what you wanted. And what you wanted was currently taking a shower. You walked into the bathroom to have some more of him. You opened the shower door and Sy reached out and pulled you in.

“Get in here Buttercup, the water’s fine.”

That grin would do you in.

Next part here

——

Hit Reblog if you like it!

#henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction #captain syverson #captain sy x reader #captain syverson fanfiction #syverson fanfiction #syverson x reader #syverson smut #captain syverson smut #syverson fluff #cpt syverson #Syverson #Syverson angst #Syverson x black!reader #Syverson au #Sy x Buttercup #Henry cavill x reader #Henry cavill smut #ii most wanted #ii most wanted au #ii most wanted fic #writeblr #amwriting #am writing

[imyourbratzdoll]

Hi Cheleah😌❤️

So.... werebear Henry x Bunny Reader?👀👀

He has a cabin in the woods where he stock the food for winter and one day he comes home, finding some of his stash has been raided, and the one who is responsible (bunny reader) is sleeping by the fireplace in his old flannel, surrounded by his vegetable stash😌❤️

it's just a background and I really want the smut😩❤️ size kink with bunny reader with cute ears and cute tail🤤🤤🤤

hey baby! I'm so sorry for taking so long to complete this! I hope you like it!

summary - you enter a bear's cabin, and he decides to have a snack.

warning - smut, degrading, creampie, breeding kink, spitting kink.

18+ only please, the gif I use isn't mine, divider by @newlips

Henry walks into his cabin, and his nose flares as he smells an unfamiliar scent. He carefully places down his items and feels his claws descend, heading through his house and spying on his fresh vegetable stash raided before making his way to the loungeroom where a fire burns. Knowing that he hadn’t lit one when he had left and when he rounded the corner, Henry’s eyes widened as they landed on your tiny form.

A bunny hybrid was very rare to come by. You were tucked into an old flannel of his, curled into a tiny ball as your ears flop in front of your face, your little fluffy white tail sticking out. Henry looks around and notices most of the vegetables lying around you, nibbled on, and he wonders how hard it has been out there for you to break into his cabin. You were tiny, tinier than the giant bear that stood tall in the doorway. 

Henry made his way over to your sleeping body, watching your tiny self shiver even with the fire burning. Your pink little nose twitches, a pout forms on your plump lips, and you whimper. He kneels and shakes you, and you wake startled. Your eyes are wide as you look around before landing on Henry, a squeal escapes you, and you begin to back up, crawling backwards until your back hits the oversized couch. “I–I’m sorry! I–I didn’t mean to! I was just hungry!” Fat tears fill your eyes as you ramble on, trying to stand on your wobbly legs. 

Henry looks down at you, frowning. “It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you.” You stare at him with wide eyes, watching as he steps closer. You are so tiny, Henry had never met someone so small before, and it was doing something to the bear inside him. “Why don’t you get yourself comfortable on the couch, and I’ll make you a proper meal?” He nods, reassuring you that it is okay, and he smiles when you slowly move onto the couch, snuggling into the soft material. Henry grabs a blanket and covers you with it before heading into the kitchen and preparing dinner. You were the cutest little thing he had ever seen. He’d look over and see your large eyes watching him, following his every movement, taking in how giant he was. 

Henry places the stew into two bowls and walks over to you, giving you a soft smile as you reach up and take it from him gently. “T–thank you, Mr…” You blink up at him, and the sight of your wide eyes nearly makes Henry throw the bowls away and take you apart, but he breathes deeply, calming himself a bit.

“Henry, little bunny. You can call me Henry.” He chuckles when you squirm at the nickname and sits next to your tiny body, noticing how you move closer, seeking his warmth. Henry watches you as he eats, following how your plump lips wrap around the spoon. “How are you liking the food, little bunny?” You nod, and Henry chuckles as he looks over and watches you stuff the food into your mouth, your eyes wide as you are caught.

“It’s… Good, thank you.” Your cheeks heat up as the huge man stares down at you, and you slowly place your bowl onto your lap when you finish. Your tongue flicks out, licking your lips as you stare at Henry, feeling bashful under his gaze. He smirks as he watches you squirm, and Henry reaches over, wrapping his large hands around the bowl before standing and heading into the kitchen to place them into the sink. You bounce in your spot, watching him as he walks back, feeling slick gather between your legs as you take in how large he is. Your mouth opens as you go to speak, trying to find something to say before a squeak escapes you, and Henry pulls you onto his lap.

“You shouldn’t have to worry, little bunny. You should have someone to take care of you, make sure you're all warm and well fed.” You squirm against his growing bulge, whimpering. Henry grips your hips, holding you closer to him. “You’re so tiny, little bunny. You need a big bear to take care of you, don’t you?” You nod rapidly, grinding against him as your eyes glaze over. He growls, his hand moving to undo his zipper, pulling out his hardened cock while you are distracted. Henry grins, placing himself between your legs and staring at your shocked face. “A little bunny like you needs to be cared for, pumped full and round.” Without warning, Henry slides into your tight cunt, grunting as he squeezes through. You lean forward, clinging onto him. A moan rips through the air as you feel his massive member splitting you open. “You should’ve known this would happen, little bunny. What did you expect when you put my flannel on?” 

Your eyes roll back, gripping his bulging arms as his hands grip your hips and bounce you onto his cock. Your head falls back, and a whine falls from your lips as Henry’s hand grabs your little bunny tail, pulling it and squeezing it, sending intense pleasure through your tiny body, causing your walls to go crazy and begin to squeeze his throbbing cock. “O–oh!” Your hips wiggle, ears flopping around from his rough thrusts. “M–mr… bear! Mr…” A loud slapping sound fills the room as his large hand comes down on your plump cheeks. 

Henry growls as he grabs you and flips you around, pounding into you hard and fast, barely having any control left. His hand comes up and wraps around your throat, gripping tightly. “My name is Henry, little bunny, or have you already become so dumb?” You can barely process anything he says, feeling so numb and fuzzy as his cock slides deeper inside of you, filling you over and over again. Henry strokes your cheek before gripping your face tightly, your mouth opens automatically, and he spits, feeling your walls clench around him by the action. “You’re my little bunny now.” His hips snap, feeling his balls tighten and his cock twitch before he buries himself deep inside of you and releases thick amounts of cum, filling you until it’s leaking from your tight hole. Your juices flow out of you, and you begin to twitch underneath him, your eyes rolling to the back of your head before they start to close slowly. Henry groans, staying buried inside of you as he places a kiss on your forehead. “My little bunny.”

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

#imyourbratzdollasks #imyourbratzdollwork #jamneuromainask #henry cavill x y/n #henry cavill characters #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill x female reader #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill fluff #henry cavill fic #henry cavill imagines #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill one shot #henry cavill oneshot #henry cavill au #henry cavill angst #henry cavill x short!reader #henry cavill x little!reader #werebear henry cavil x bunny hybrid reader

[drewharrisonwriter]

Donor

Part 1 | Part 1.5 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

Pairings: Bestie Henry Cavill x OFC A/N, Warnings: 18+, Talk of artificial insemination, peeing in a cup, sperm, and more. LOL I wrote this in an hour, IDK where I pulled this from. Not beta-ed. Also, I'm pretty sure this doesn't make so much sense in terms of plot, and being realistic. But come on, let this delulu queen live her life. You're welcome to join. Summary: You ask (beg) your best friend, Henry to donate--sperm.

I’m AO3, too as MoonDjarin ^_^

“Hank, pleaaaase…” You pleaded, dragging the last word. Henry laughed at your frustration but still could not wrap his head around what you’re asking of him.

“You’re going insane.” He jokes, causing you to drop your back on the carpet with a soft thud, covering your face with your palms as you landed.

“It’s just like peeing in a cup.” Your reply came out muffled. Henry just snorted and tried his best to stifle a laugh.

Nearly 18 years of friendship and here you are, seemingly at the end of your rope, asking your best friend to father the child you so ache for and he laughs at your ridiculous solution, telling you he’s not going to be responsible for a “turkey baster baby”.

“I don’t like peeing in a cup. Besides, why go the turkey baster way when you can go… au naturelle?”

“You know exactly why…” You said, sitting up, and gathering the profiles of sperm donors from the (sperm) bank. You and Henry had been going through each profile over the past few hours, laughing and making faces at the notes.

“And I thought Tinder was bad.” He commented earlier.

Henry got up and took the bottles of beer on the coffee table and walked back to the kitchen to open new ones.

“Tell me why won’t you do it?” You asked him, eyes round and glazed with tears that are threatening to fall any second.

He hates seeing you like this.

He sighed and admitted, “If I were to have any children of my own, I’d rather have them borne out of love and not out of… desperation after a really bad break up.”

“But I’m not asking you to be… a father. Just a donor.” You countered.

"Darling, please. Reaaally think about what you're asking of me."

"I have! I wouldn't be asking you if I haven't. Come on, Hank..."

"Right, not more than an hour after dropping sperm bank Tinder and you've thought this through." He said sarcastically and you pouted.

"Well, think about it, too!" You asked of him. "It's the ideal situation."

"How? Tell me exactly why it's so ideal." He said, running a hand through his face and resting his chin on his palm as he waited for your brilliant idea.

"Well, first of all, we love each other. So the child won't be borne not out of love." You began, mocking his accent and his statement from earlier. He snickered and pinched the bridge of his nose, "Jesus," He muttered.

"Plus, I won't ask you for anything, Hank. No child support, no emotional support. You don't have to see them. You're not even going to be on the birth certificate."

Henry winced at each of your points. "Darling, you know so well that I'm always your emotional support. And d'you really think I can go around just being Uncle Hank?” He replied with an eye roll as he took a sip of his beer.

"Yeah, how hard could that be?" You exclaimed.

"Very." He said sternly, looking you straight in the eye.

"Y/N." He began. "You know so well I won't be able to sit here with you holding a child knowing it's mine and not be involved in all ways."

“God, you’re too emotional.” You rolled your eyes at his response as you drank from your beer bottle.

“I am! And I’m sorry, darling. I can’t just give away my children. They’re not the meals you make for me every week.”

You laughed at that. "So you admit it, you don't like the meals I prep for you?"

"That's beside the point."

You'll get back to that later. You sighed out loud as you both drank.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

“Why do you desperately want this?”

That ought to get you thinking hard.

You sighed and asked yourself the same thing, reflecting on what started this vision of yourself with a child, and what turned it to longing and aching, then desperation.

Growing up without present parents, you basically become an extended Cavill sibling. The sister they never had, or as the youngest Cavill, Charlie, would like to joke, the no-choice sister. That family took you in like their own kin, having you over for dinner almost every evening, and spending weekends and vacations with them.

It's not that you're not well off, financially. Your parents were just really successful actors who don't pay you much any attention but showers you with plenty of lavish gifts and an American Express Black card. Which, Henry's mother found really heartbreaking and his father pitied you on.

You were 15 when you met Henry. He was already a budding actor with a couple of productions and a movie or two in his portfolio. You were a bright and young singer-songwriter from Italy, about to break it into the English-language audience with a catchy single that Henry happened to star in the music video of.

It was easy falling into a friendship with Henry. He was kind, funny, a little nerdy, but he's also such a gentleman, and treats you and talks to you like an equal despite the five-year age gap.

It didn't take long before you met his family when he invited to his birthday party. You didn't know exactly how the events played out that day, but somehow, at the end of it all, you walked out of their home being a part of it.

You got along so well with his brothers, you and his mother already sharing secrets. You figured she was excited to have a girl in the house as none of her children would bring their girlfriends for them to meet. His father was so easy to please, a couple of jokes here and a few football arguments there, and you won his heart. Not like you were even trying, but you were glad that you got along with all of them.

Henry drove you home that night and when he parked in your empty driveway, he jumped out to open the door for you. You cried in the passenger seat with the door open and he stood there, leaning on the doorframe as you confessed to him your jealousy and longing for that kind of family.

He pulled you in and wrapped you in a tight hug beneath the street lamp.

"Hank, you know so well there is nothing I want more in life at this moment than to have a family."

"I don't get it, Y/N." He said quietly, "You're definitely the smartest person I know. You're a literal genius..." He thought of your first few conversations on the set of your first English-language music video, and learning that not only you spoke several languages fluently, but you are also about to start university at such an early age. It impressed him so much.

"You've accomplished so much in your career, you're still young, there are so many things you can do with your life, why do you go back to this?" He asked and you just shrugged.

"I feel incomplete. What can I say? A dream is a dream."

"Gerry was a dream, too." He said and you looked at him surprised at bringing up your ex fiancé.

He was indeed a dream. You met Gerry at an evening talk show as a fellow guest. He didn't hide the fact that he was so enamored by you and that he's such a big fan of your music. You, being a fan of him, too, was just so happy to hear him say all that in person.

It was an instant connection, and it didn't take long for you and Gerry to start a long, and at the time, seemingly, lasting and perfect relationship.

"Sorry." He muttered. "But it makes me wonder, you never talked about it, just casually said that things didn't work out. Knowing you, things don't just not work out like that."

And he's right, you know he's right.

Gerry loves you a lot. You love him, too. But for all the years you've been together with the high-profile action star, the talk of kids almost never came up, at least the serious talk about kids. Until you brought it up soon after he proposed, and he confessed that he had a vasectomy shortly before you met.

You were not mad. You understood, vasectomies are reversible. But Gerry didn't want to have it reversed, ever. He admitted that the reason he got it in the first place was to not accidentally have kids as he fully intended to be childless.

You understood that, too. But it broke your heart.

Regardless, you had a clean break up, but never felt the need to tell people, even your friends or family as to why. Just that things didn't work out.

"Gerry didn't want to start a family." You told Henry.

"What?" He asked, surprised. His brows furrowed and his mouth hung slightly open at your revelation. You just nodded.

"I don't understand, you were to be married." You just nodded again, and took a sip of your beer. You told him the truth about Gerry, and Henry felt his heart breaking for you.

Henry reached for your hand from across the coffee table, enveloping your tiny hands in his big ones.

"And that's a deal breaker for you." He said softly, coming to the realization.

"Yeah." You replied. "So... there you go."

"But you know what comes after the last one, right?"

"What?"

"The next one." He joked, trying to make the air in the room lighter. He smiled at his success when you snickered.

"I'm tired, Hank. Tired of getting to know new people. I've been with Gerry for four years, and before that... well you know." It was Henry's turn to snicker.

He knows so well. All the heartbreaks, disappointments, even the rebounds, met most of them. He was always there at your highest of highs, and always down with you when things didn't work out.

"I get that." He finally answered, thinking about his own strings of ex girlfriends, and an ex-fiancé. At one point, you both feel very proud of the situation you found yourselves in, both engaged to beautiful people at the same time.

You even toasted to it last New Year's eve, not knowing that both promises of a lifetime of love would fall apart in a matter of months. He, too, wanted what you wanted. A family of his own, being the only one amongst his brothers to be single and childless.

He thought he might have had that with his ex fiance. Telling him she was pregnant when she caught a whiff of him about to break things off. He was caught off guard when she told him and he didn't even waste a moment to put a ring on her finger, falling for her lies.

Maybe it was not so bad, making your dream come true. You can always discuss co-parenting, he thought and he's sure you'd allow it.

He pondered on it some more.

Henry rested his head on the cool glass top of the coffee table, his hand never left yours. He let out a breath, fogging the glass beneath him as he gently squeezed your hand.

He shut his eyes tight, and muttered to himself, "Please don't make me regret this."

"What?" You asked, not quite hearing what he said.

"Okay."

"Okay, what?"

"Okay, I'll do it. I'll--be your turkey baster baby's donor."

With that you burst out crying and he stood up, took your hand and guided you to his arms. He wrapped you up in that big, warm hug, that you always find comfort in.

"Set an appointment in the morning, darling." He whispered and you cried some more and muttered a yes, thank you.

18 years of friendship with Henry Cavill, and this is where you find yourself: at a crossroads that neither of you could have predicted.

The weight of his decision settled between you like a tangible presence, and as you hugged each other tightly, you knew that this was a turning point in your relationship, an uncharted territory.

Read next part: Part 1.5 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

#henry cavill #henry cavill fic #henry cavill x #henry cavill smut #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fluff #henry cavill x female reader #henry cavill x little!reader #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x y/n #henry cavill x you

[nouearth]

#✰ : nou.rambles #henry cavill #yeah.... #that's my man #potential professor!cavill fic incoming

[fallenangelkitten]

You Asked for This

Synopsis: In a cloud of possession, Henry fucks you to remind you who you belong to.

Warnings: possessive, restrains, angry sex, denial, masochism

Note: This one was SO fun to write. Enjoy ;)

He yanked his arm from your grasp, shooting a deadly glare at you. Your brow furrowed as you felt a tinge of pain hit your heart. “Henry! Wha-“

“Don’t give me that!” He yelled, eyes wide and full of anger. “You know exactly what you did. You just let him touch you.” His eyes shifted to the floor.

“H-Henry… are you serious? He’s my boss, I couldn’t just jerk my hand away like you so obviously can,” You tried to explain.

“I don’t give a fuck who he is. You are mine. So now it’s your turn. You let him touch you, you don’t get to touch me,” his eyes were heated with fury, but his lips held a sinister smirk. You couldn’t help but feel the arousal pool in your underwear; his jealousy and anger only in turn heating your eyes with lust. You tried to squeeze your legs together to give yourself some sort of relief from your quickly consuming need.

“I’m sorry. I’m really really sorry. But I need you and I know you need me, too,” you went to hold his hand but he snatched it back. You searched his eyes for any sense of change but found none. “Please, Henry.”

He said nothing. He would only look down at you, chest heaving and nostrils flared. “Henry?” You asked, but still nothing. Only a slight raise of his brow, as if an unspoken challenge. “Seriously?”

His mouth set into a hard line. He finally broke his gaze and shifted to turn from you, but you caught his wrist. His reaction was ungodly fast, breaking your connection and snatching yours into his hand. He pulled you to where you were only a few centimeters from his face. “You want my touch? My hands on you? Fine. Your wish is my command, Darling,” he snarled. The name he used for you coming off of his tongue like a curse.

He dragged you into the bedroom. “Undress and stand next to the bed, don’t move,” he commanded. Your mouth began to water in anticipation. You did just as he asked as he left the room. He returned to you with a shiny pair of cuffs. Licking your lips, you held your hands out to him. He latched one around your wrist, the click of the clasp echoing in your ears. He guided your hands above your head, leading you to one of the bars overtop the middle of your four poster bed.

You were almost dangling from the middle of the bed, knees just barely taking the pressure off of your wrists. He made his way under you. He was completely naked- your eyes took him in, his length slapping against his stomach as he scooted between your thighs. You were panting, your lust beginning to seep down your thighs and onto his hips.

His head tilted to one side, “I haven’t even touched you and you’re a mess. Look at you. You think I’m going to fuck you? Brats don’t get rewarded, (y/n),” without warning he plunged into you with resounding force, he hit the deepest part of you and stayed there. “We’re going to stay like this for as long as I see fit. You’re going to dangle there, with my cock stuffed into you, while you try and remember who you belong to.”

You whimpered above him, mouth hung open. You couldn’t move your hips if you wanted to; not only did he have you at a height to where you couldn’t gain any traction, but his hands grounded your hips to his own. You could feel him pulsing inside of you, only making you groan. You were aching, cunt throbbing and gripping around him. You heard the deep growl he attempted to hold back emerge from his chest. “Henry, please!” You begged.

He only hardened the grip on your hips with one hand, bring the other up to your breasts. He flicked one of them, pain shooting through you causing you to cry out. He clasped the other between his thumb and index finger, pinching slightly- just enough to be more painful than pleasurable. He rocked his hips once, even the smallest amount of friction was now overstimulating.

You were shaking above him, already on the brink of release. He kept you constricted against him as he move his hand from your breast to your mouth. “Suck,” he commanded, holding out his index. Without hesitation, you took him into your mouth, hoping- praying, he would take pity on you. You sucked his finger as if it were his throbbing cock; tongue swirling around and lapping at the tip. You almost wished it were his cock, the feeling of him so deep and unmoving was driving you mad.

With his finger acting as a gag, he rocked his hips against yours a second time. But twice was all it took- you came furiously, back arched and head falling back. He pulled his finger from your mouth and rubbed slow circles against one of your nibbles. You could feel your own spit against it, the air making it cold.

Your senses still hadn’t came back to you as he sat to reach above you and undo one the the cuffs. You collapsed against his chest, your hair sticking to it from the mixture of your sweat. He was still pulsing inside of you as he brought his hand under your chin, forcing you to look at him. “Now. Who do you belong to?”

“You, Henry. I’m yours.”