#henry cavill x you fanfiction | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hertzwritings · 11 months

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You spin me right round (baby, right round)

A/N: Am I alive? Physically, yes. Am I okay? Probably not. Did I miss all of you guys and writing? YES. Honestly, it’s been weird not writing and keeping in contact with all of you, but I’m trying to get back to it – and that brings us to here. Also, I’ve been listening to Sleep Token on repeat, so I’m feeling things.

I don’t have a set schedule right now, mostly because I have no idea if I’ll be posting regularly or just on a whim, but for now, I’m just getting back in the groove of things!

Your comments, likes, reblogs mean the world to me and would definitely help me stay on it, so if you’ve got anything to say, say it, my loves.

Remember English isn’t my first language, so if there’s errors in grammar or language, try to overlook it. Love you all!

Also, please be gentle wit me on my first day back – it’s like being nervous to start a new school, really.

MASTERLIST

Ask me anything/requests/tag list requests

Pairing: NotFamous!Henry Cavill x female reader

Warnings: Language, dorks being dorks, meet cute, strangers to lovers, neighbors to lovers, smut (18+, minors DNI), dirty talk, slightly dom/sub, spanking, p in v, tongue on v, blowjobs, slight Msub to Mdom, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, creampie, petnames

Wordcount: 4633 (whoops)

You spin me right round (baby, right round)

Laundry day. Probably the worst of days, especially considering the hefty trek from your 5th floor apartment to the basement, which would be bad enough in and of itself, but carrying the massive load of laundry down without a functioning elevator without spilling half of your delicates did seem like an almost impossible task.

At any rate, you were going to do it, and you were going to be a strong, independent woman, who could definitely carry it down and back up again without dropping a thong or three (like last time, where Pete from 5D was lurking).

You heaved the blue IKEA-bag higher on your shoulder, silently cursing yourself for not actually doing the damned laundry more than you did, and began the descent into the musty basement, your trusty laundry-tokens jangling in your pocket of the loose shorts, you were wearing.

It took longer than you’d like to admit, and you almost did drop the entire bag down a flight of stairs, but you made it and with a loud grunt, you pushed the door to the basement and laundry-room open, almost stumbling inside.

“Oh.” You locked eyes with a very handsome stranger, who looked up from the only dryer, hands still buried pretty deeply in there. “Oh, you need this one?” He asked politely, and that voice – smooth velvet, mixed with a deep rumble that settled nicely in your chest and between your legs. The accent didn’t help at all with how attractive you found him, either, and you shifted your weight slightly. Fuck. “I-I… I’m… Not right…” You squeaked, silently cursing yourself for wearing your gray, tattered t-shirt with a faded logo on it, that definitely did not do anything nicely for your shape. You cleared your throat. “No, I’m sorry, no. I’m still in the early laundry-stages.” You said with a smile, and immediately wanted to die. Laundry stages?? He grinned, a fanged tooth catching his lower lip. “Alright. New to the building?” He asked, casually loading a basket with his clothes.

“Sort of. More of a recluse, that have been living here for a month, and just never do laundry at normal people-times.” He chuckled and stood up to his full height. He was an impressive man, easily towering a head and a half above you, and he looked enormous. Muscles rolled under his perfect skin on his arms, and you couldn’t help your brain going in all other directions than polite talk with a neighbor. “Well, nice to meet you, recluse. I’m Henry.” He balanced the basket on his hip (a beautiful move, if you were honest) and extended his hand, which you cautiously shook. “I’m Y/N.” You said with a small smile. His hand was warm and the grasp was firmer than you had expected, small callouses on the tips of his fingers that graced the inside of your wrist deliciously. Fuckedy fuck. “Y/N. Good name.” He winked at you. “Oh, don’t use the second washing machine…” He pointed to the washer with a bright red 2 painted on it. “Stinky Pete from 5D used it, and I don’t want to imagine what on earth he washed, but it still smells vaguely like rot.” He winked at you. “Bye, Recluse Y/N!” And with that he left, leaving you slightly shellshocked and a scent trail of hazel and wood behind.

It went on like that for a few weeks; you showed up, he was already there in various states of undress (once you even came face to face with him in just boxers, because he had spilled what appeared to be red wine everywhere) and you exchanged pleasantries before leaving the basement and going back to your apartment, sighing deeply over the fact, that you never actually talked to the handsome stranger.

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A while later, a little past midnight, you were back at it (still no working elevator) and found yourself face to face with the very handsome British man, who this time was wearing fucking gray sweatpants and a tank top, that definitely didn’t leave anything to the imagination. You could see every single muscle underneath the shirt as he loaded the laundry.

“Ah, look who’s back!” he grinned at you. “I saved the best washer for you, but don’t tell Mrs. Selton on the fourth. She can’t know I play favorites, or I’ll never get cookies again.” You laughed. “Alright, your secret’s safe with me, sir.” You said and stood next to him, before starting to load the washer. He tried to say something, but almost bit his tongue and groaned at the sensation. “Are you always this smooth?” You asked, laughing slightly, as he began coughing. “Inhaled… Spit…” He coughed again. When he was finally breathing normally, he raised an eyebrow at you. “I’ll have you know, this is in no way an indication of how I handle normal interactions with people. It’s late, and I’m slightly flustered.” He said with a small smirk.

“Mhm.” You nodded, while mindlessly stuffing your washer. “Sure, I’ll believe you.” “Hey, you don’t know me.” He said, leaning against the dryer and crossed his arms. “Maybe you know my name, and probably the color and general state of my underwear, but you don’t know me.” “I never said anything.” You grinned and closed the lid on the washer. “Wait, that’s not even close to full.” He tsked at you and opened it again. “You have to really stuff it in there, or you’ll be down here until morning.” “Excuse you, can you get your hands off of my laundry, you weirdo.” You slapped his hand away. “Maybe I don’t want my clothes overly wrinkled, have you considered that?” You asked. “Pfft. That’s the charm of communal laundry. It’ll always smell a little like other people and it will be wrinkled.” You guffawed. “Sure thing, Henry. Any plans for tonight?” you asked, mindlessly pouring detergent into the container. He looked at you with his head tilted slightly, a few stray curls bouncing onto his forehead. Goddamnit, it should be illegal to look like that when doing laundry. “Eh, not really. It’s Sunday, Sundays are for me and my boy.” You raised an eyebrow. “Your boy, huh?” “Oh, didn’t I tell you? I am indeed a parent. I have a child.” He said proudly, leaning over you to press the on-button for you. You jumped onto the counter behind you and sat down on it, insistingly ignoring the creaking of the wood beneath your butt. That’s an insecurity for another day. “Really?” He nodded. “Would your boy happen to be a giant dog?” he frowned. “How the hell did you know that?” You pointed to the unwashed load of laundry, where a suspicious amount of hair had settled on pretty much everything. “Why are you pointing at my... Yeah, well, that is a lot of hair…” He looked back at you with a furrowed brow. “Why are you even looking down there? My laundry should be sacred!” He said teasingly, covering the basket with his arm. “Well… That’s… Uhm… Anyway.” You laughed. “Are you just down here for fun, or did you wait for me?” You asked with a grin. He shrugged. “Oooor… Did you wait for me down here, because we’re the only people in this building that are somewhat close in age, and you are trying to befriend me, which is why you’ve hidden a bottle of wine in your laundry?” “Stop making assumptions that are astutely accurate, it’ll turn weird soon.” He groaned, and – as you thought – pulled a bottle of rosé out of his laundry. “I’m not astutely accurate, I didn’t know it was rosé.” You grinned. He laughed lightly and cocked an eyebrow. “To be fair, it’s mostly because I have nothing to do, and I have a feeling you never celebrated moving here. So…” He opened the bottle with a swift move and pulled two red solo cups out of the basket. “Drink?” You laughed.

“Love to.”

“Okay, come on, why on earth are you keeping these?” He asked, holding a very old thong between his fingers. “Shut up, and stop fondling my underwear, you freak!” you quickly grabbed it from him with a laugh. The bottle had been emptied, and a new one had been brought down and for some reason, in your tipsy mind, it was a great idea helping each other folding each other’s clothes while you were waiting on the load that was currently spinning in the dryer. “I’ll have you know, some clothes are sentimental!” You said, throwing the thong into your blue IKEA-bag. He snickered. “How on earth is tattered and holed thongs sentimental? Besides, to be quite frank, at this point it’s just… Like… A string.” He laughed. “You’re the one to talk! You threw a pair of his socks at him. “I have never seen so many pairs of boxers with holes in them!” He shrugged. “I call it the surprise.” You frowned. “The surprise?” “The surprise.” He moved closer to you, and every single hair on your body stood up, while your breath hitched. He whispered into your ear, closely enough for you to feel his lips touch your earlobe. “If I’m feeling very saucy, I’ll simply rip them off and yell surprise!.” He said and laughed, sending vibrations through your entire body. “Ah, why of course. That’s a totally normal thing to do.” He pulled back slightly, his eyes a little darker than usual. “As opposed to being sentimentally attached to a thong?” he asked, his arms caging you in – it wasn’t an unpleasant experience, but it did make your thighs shake a little. His scent enveloped you completely and made it almost impossible to think. “Many tings are sentimental. Underwear, stuff…” You answered lamely. He laughed, a low rumble in his chest and cocked an eyebrow at you. When did his face get so close? “Ah, of course. Stuff and thongs. Nothing better than relieving the good, old days of… Black thongs?” He said softly, his breath fanning over your face. It was intoxicating. “Right. Besides, you have no right to judge me when your underwear looks like it could’ve been made during World War two.” You retorted, shifting slightly in place. He chuckled. “Well… Maybe I have to get new ones, then.”

His lips were so, so close to yours, all it would take was just a little nudge and you would be connected. He was intoxicating as he had you caged, muscles rolling in his arms, his scent of wood and something inherently Henry fully filled your brain, and you almost moved your head, but the sound of the dryer going off pulled both of you out of whatever that was.

“Second load done, one more to go!” He said a little breathlessly and pushed himself away from you – you let out a breath, you didn’t know you were holding and jumped down from the counter. “Great.” You whispered, bending down to grab whatever was in there – you would’ve just kept going, if it wasn’t for the small groan that sounded behind you. You turned your head around and caught Henry looking at your ass. “Excuse you.” You smirked. He cleared his throat. “Were you just looking at my ass, Henry from 4C?” “Uhm… No, I… I-” He groaned. “Fine, I was, but you can’t blame me! You’re bending down like that, and you’re wearing those fucking shorts… I can’t help it, you’re fucking gorgeous, darling.” You shivered. “Oh.” A thick silence fell between you, and you slowly stood up, laundry be damned. “Yeah, well… It’s an unfair advantage, I really tried to be proper and all that, but... Jesus Christ, Y/N.” he groaned again and closed his eyes – the small twitch in his gray sweatpants did not go unseen by you. “Respectfully, are you wearing anything underneath those sweatpants?” You asked, slightly out of breath while heat and wetness were pooling in your panties by the mere idea. “Maybe, maybe not. Are you wearing anything under that?” He asked, opening his eyes slightly. “No, my sentimental thongs are in the laundry.” Wherever the confidence came from, you had no idea, but his reaction to you was more than enough for you to keep going. You were slightly shaky as you moved a step closer to him. “Y/N…” He whispered. “Henry…” You were chest to chest to him now, his lower back against the counter. It was slightly exhilarating to have the control, especially over such a big man as Henry. “Henry…” You whispered his name again, and a fucking whimper fell from his lips. Yeah, fuck this.

You pounced – as best as you could, height difference and all – and the moment, he realized what you were doing, his arms wrapped around you and lifted you slightly, so your lips could connect. It was electric. No, not electric, it was like a symphony of colors, feelings and it was like plunging into cool water, when his lips touched yours. You moaned against his lips, and he gasped, letting your tongue glide against his. Deepening the kiss, he straightened up slightly, allowing your legs to wrap around his waist, holding on for dear life. Your lips and tongues slid against each other fervently, a slight groan reverberating from his throat send you over the edge. You bit his lower lip, pulling a soft moan from him, and wrapped your hand in is hair, tugging it slightly. The reaction was better than you could’ve ever imagined. His hands moved from your waist to your ass, squeezing hard, while a mix of moans and your name tumbled from his lips to yours – you could feel his hard length pressing against the sweatpants and your shorts, and you were sure you were leaving wet spots on his pants. “Fuck, Henry…” You mumbled his name, and he turned around to place you on the counter, before going to your throat, kissing and biting. You moaned at the feeling and threw your head back. “Harder.” You moaned, and felt him smile against your skin, before his teeth sunk deeper into your skin, his large hands tightening their grip on your thighs, causing you to roll your hips. “Fucking hell, darling, I can almost taste you from here…” He whispered against you, his hands moving upwards. “Hmm, really?” You moaned, rolling your hips again. “Nobody’s stopping you.” You tugged his hair again for good measure. “No, you’re right about that.” He mumbled, his hands dancing up, up, up, until they reached the waistband of your shorts and gently pulled them down, letting the fabric slide down your legs – you lifted your ass from the counter, allowing them to fully fall off of you, and he groaned at the sight in front of him. “Fuuuck, darling… I can see how fucking wet you are… Can I taste you?” He asked, his darkened eyes finding yours, chest heaving. You cocked an eyebrow. “Ask nicely.” He chuckled, a thick finger gliding along your hip, slowly inching towards your mound. “Please, Y/N, please… Fuck, I need to taste you, please, let me taste you… let me eat you out until you cum on my tongue.” For a seemingly proper British man, he was filthy. “Yes.” He didn’t wait a second before moving down your body, teeth catching both fabric and nipple on his way down, before he stopped, licking his lips, while looking at your exposed, dripping pussy. “Y/N…” He mumbled your name like a prayer, and before you even had the time to breathe, he licked a thick line along your lips, parting them with it. He moaned at the taste and dove in like a man starved. You mewled at the feeling, his tongue moving around your clit, fingers still on your inner thigh, and you could barely hold your upper body up as his tongue dipped inside of you. “Fuck, yes… I want to feel you cum on me, darling…” He mumbled against you, his hips rutting slightly into nothing. “Fingers. Please, fingers.” You managed to moan as his tongue went back to your clit, hardening against it as he began to eat you out with an intensity you’d never experienced before. He obeyed silently, adding two thick fingers into your dripping pussy, curling them upwards. You bit back a scream as they filled you, slowly sliding in and out, hitting your g-spot over and over, while his tongue did magic on your clit; you’d forever be ruined by this man, and he hadn’t even been inside of you yet. “Fuck!” You bit back a scream as he sped up, tongue and fingers working in perfect unison to pull you closer to the edge; he chuckled darkly against you, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your clit. “Be quiet, little bird, or someone will hear.” He said slowly, taking a small break from your clit. “Fuck off, it’s like three in the mo-or…” You didn’t finish your sentence, as he dove back in, this time with a speed and intensity, that could’ve killed you on a different day. “Shit, I’m gonna…” He moaned as you tightened around his fingers, and he slurped your juices from you, keeping the pace as best he could. “Fuck, you’re so fucking tight, baby… I want to feel you cum, can you cum for me, please…” He whimpered as your pussy pulled his fingers deeper inside of you, and you shook slightly.

You couldn’t stop it, even if you wanted to. Your orgasm hit you like a fucking train, white spots appearing in your vision, and you felt, more than heard, his moaning as you rode your orgasm out on his face and fingers.

“Fuck, baby, look at you… You squirted for me, didn’t you, darling?” he looked up at you with a devilish smirk on his face, that was shimmering with your cum under the low fluorescent lights. You moaned – his fingers were still going in and out of you. “Now…” he whispered, his voice dangerously low. “You get on your knees, darling.” E stood up and wiped his face gracefully, putting a single finger in his mouth. “You taste fucking amazing.” He grinned at you and stood to his full height, a sense of authority filling the room. “Knees.” He commanded, and who were you to deny that? You slid down from the counter on shaky legs and landed on your knees, looking up at him. “Fuck, darling, you can’t look at me like that, I’ll fucking cum here and now.” He groaned. “Well, where’s the fun in that?” You said while your fingers grabbed the waistband of his sweatpants and pulled them down, letting his cock spring free. You almost salivated at the look of it. Thick, throbbing slightly, a thick vein running down the length of it and a drop of precum sparkling under the lights. He was huge. “Well, what are you waiting for, little bird?” he chuckled, before he cut it off with a moan, as your lips wrapped around the tip, and you slid down as far as your jaw and throat allowed you to. He moaned as the tip hit the back of your throat and you choked slightly on it – you were dripping wet, as you began to move back and fort on his length, swallowing as much as you could, reveling in the taste of is precum. He twitched slightly and a choked moan spilled from his lips, as he thrusted forwards. “Fuck, baby… Shit, you’re really... Fuck… Good at this…” He moaned. You smiled around his length and moved faster, hearing the choked moans above, spurring you on. “Fuck, baby, stop, stop, stop… Stop, I’ll cum if you keep going…” You whimpered as he pulled away from you, a line of spit connecting you, and you looked up at him with big eyes. He groaned and held your chin with a large hand. “Good girl. I want to feel you before I cum, darling.” He whispered, gently guiding you up to your feet again by your chin. He kissed you deeply before turning you around, bending you over the counter. “Fuck, this ass… You’re a fucking wonder, baby…” He reveled, a hand falling on your ass. You moaned at the sensation and your hips bucked, exposing yourself more to him. “Oh, look at you, doing so fucking good for me already, aren’t you?” he whispered. You moaned again. “Henry, please…” You whimpered his name and tried to push back to get him inside of you, but he chuckled and held you tightly in place. “No, baby girl, you’re going to stay right there.” He ran a hand down your spine and slapped your ass again, forcing a whimper from you. “Now, you ask nicely, and I’ll fuck you right here, right now.” He said darkly, his hand gently running circles over your ass, sometimes dipping between your legs. You coked on a moan, and barely had the wherewithal to create a coherent sentence. “Please, please, p-please, fuck, Henry, please… Please f-fuck me, I’m begging you-u…” His finger dipped inside of you. “You want to feel my cock slowly slide inside of you, baby?” He asked, dragging his finger in and out painfully slow. You whimpered a broken yes. “Want to feel me dragging against your walls, huh? Want me to fill you, let my cum drip out of you?” You were a shaking mess as another finger was added. “Y-yes…” You felt like crying. It was so good, but so torturous to feel his fingers glide so fucking slowly. “Ah, you can do better than that, darling.” He said, bending over you – you could feel the tip of his cock against your ass, as his mouth found your neck again. “P-please, Henry, please… I want to feel your cock in me, please…�� “Mhm… I want to fill you up, darling… I want to watch my thick cock slide in and out of your tight pussy, seeing you take me…” He rambled, fingers moving faster now, and you groaned at his words. “Fuck, y-yes, Henry, I’m b-begging you, please…” you mewled. He withdrew his fingers too quickly for your liking, and he spat on your already soaked pussy, before lining himself up. “You think you can take all of me right now, baby? Let my thick cock go as deep as it can, huh?” He asked, rubbing the tip against your entrance, smearing the wetness around. You nodded, desperate for anything at this point. “No, no, that won’t do, little bird.” He tsked at you and his free hand wrapped around your hair and tugged slightly, arcing your back as your head got pulled back. You moaned loudly. “Mhm, keep the sound down, we’re in a public area, sweetheart.” He said with a small chuckle. “Ask me and mean it.” He ordered, the tip of his throbbing cock so fucking close to glide inside of you. “Fucking fill me, or I swear to god…” you begged, and whatever you wanted to say got lost in your throat, as he slid inside of you swiftly and in one, single thrust, bottomed out.

You shrieked in both pain and pleasure, your legs shaking and if he hadn’t kept a tight grip on your hair and waist, you’d probably collapse. “Oh, good girl, look at you taking all of me… Sit, it looks to fucking good to see my cock in you, baby…” He mumbled. He didn’t move yet, simply allowing you to adjust. After a few seconds, you rolled your hips to let him know you were good, and he chuckled darkly. “There’s a good, little slut, darling.” His words combined with his voice sent wetness down your thighs as he began moving, slowly at first, before picking up speed. You felt every single twitch inside of you, and he filled you to the brim. You had never been so fucking full before, and you’d never want to stop, if you were honest. He angled himself a little better and pistoned in and out of you; you saw stars and a red-hot burning started in your abdomen seconds before your orgasm hit you; it was blinding and your legs were barely functioning as you came around him, your pussy pulling him deeper, as your thighs got soaked and he moaned. “Fuuuuck, you’re so fucking tight, Y/N… Fuck, I’m not going to last long…” He moaned as you twitched around him and met his thrust, the sound of your skin slapping against each other filling the otherwise quiet room. “Fucking fill me, please… I want to feel you cum, I’m b-begging you…” you moaned, almost delirious at this point. He roared and bit down on your shoulder, before he picked up speed and began fucking you fiercely, his tick and long cock hitting your cervix slightly. You mewled and another rush of wetness went down your legs, as you neared another orgasm while he whispered praise and encouragements in your ear.

“Look at that fucking… Oh, fuck…” He groaned and thrusted harder than ever, his rhythm becoming irregular. “Look at you taking me so well, darling… You’re doing so good for me, can you cum again?” He licked the spot, he had just bitten. “Can you cum for me again, baby girl? Let me… Fuck… Feel you cum again?”

As if you could deny him.

He clamped a hand over your mouth as you came wit a scream, your pussy tightening and pulsing around his length as he fucked you into oblivion. He roared with pleasure and his hand moved from your waist to your ass, grabbing it harshly before picking up speed and chased his own high. You were shaking, barely coherent as he fucked you relentlessly. “Henry… Fuck, please… Let me feel you cum… Fuck, p-please, I want to feel you fill me, please…” You moaned his name like a prayer, and he growled before his speed stuttered. “Fuck, baby… I’m going to fill you up, you’ll be dripping for days… I’m so fucking deep in your tight pussy…” he mumbled, his hand bruising your ass, wile he pistoned back and forth; he fell silent for half a second, before you felt him swell and twitch slightly. “Tell me you’re mine.” He growled. “Mine.” His cock pounded you relentlessly. “H-henry… Shit, y-yes, yes, I’m yours!” You mewled as he twitched again.

Ropes of his cum painted your insides, and you came with him as you felt the heat of his spend inside of you. Henry growled as you tightened around him again, and he jerked his hips so he was a deep as e could be, whispering praise to you, as you rode out your own orgasm.

You stayed bent over the creaky counter, sweat dripping form the both of you, his cock still inside of you, for a few minutes, trying to catch your breath.

“Shit, that was…” he whispered, kissing the bitemark on your shoulder gently. You shivered. “Mhmm…” Words did kind of fail you at the moment. He seemed to understand whatever you meant, at any rate, and chuckled gently, before slowly pulling out with a hiss. “Jesus Christ… You’re a fucking wonder, you know that, Y/N?” He asked, the sweetest smile painting his features. You grinned with slightly bruised lips, and pulled your shorts back up. No reason to try and clean up. “Says you.” He bent down and grabbed the black thong, that was more string than fabric at this point, at stuffed it in the pocket of his sweatpants.

“Sentimental value, you know?” You laughed. “Does this mean I get to see your surprise-move?” You asked jokingly. He cocked his eyebrow and a smile spread across his face – he was a goddamn Adonis.

“Well, I do have more wine in my apartment… And a bed…”

“Lead the way.”

TAGLIST:

@acaceta @a-skov @buckyshattergirl @angelmather1 @cooldreamlandsandwich @doubletriplepowerbomb @est1887@enchantedbytomandhenry @fionnthebandersnacc @herroyalbubbliness @jeepgirls-stuff @Keiva1000 @kebabgirl67 @littlebirdofrivia @luclittlepond @mis-lil-red @multifanficdom @one-sweet-gubler @pandaxnienke @perfunctory-username69 @penneferofvenerburg @sleutherclaw @sofiebstar @summersong69 @spookyboogyuniverse @stardusted26 @thereisa8ella @timetraveller4@thatonechickhere @themanfromu @thelastpyle @tragicphoenix13 @yourlocalhoney @wheretheriversrunintothesea @severewobblerlightdragon @leigh70 @phildunphyisadilf

#henry cavill #henry cavill smut #henry cavil #henry cavill superman #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x #henry cavill x you #enry cavill x y/n #henry cavill one shot #henry cavill x female reader #henry cavill au #henry cavill x you smut #henry cavill x you fanfiction #henry cavill x yn #henry cavill x y/n smut #henry cavill strangers to lovers

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f10werfae · 1 year

Text

Sleepy Snuggles

pairing: Boyfriend!Henry Cavill x Girlfriend!Reader

summary: Henry loves on his cockdrunk girlfriend all through the night, especially during Christmas season

Disclaimer: This story is fiction and should not be taken literally, the behaviour is simply imaginative and the content may be inappropriate

requests are open/likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated♥️

Henry Masterlist, Full Masterlist, Taglist Form

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“Butterfly, you feel so good wrapped around me like this, all cockdrunk and snuggly” Henry whispered kissing Y/n’s cheek from behind, his arms around her waist tightly as he thrusted up into her. Feeling her eyes start to lid from exhaustion, Y/n couldn’t help but just whimper out at the words of her boyfriend, wiggling her ass back onto his cock.

“Missed you so much Hen” Y/n moaned out, feeling Henry’s hands venture up her oversized sweater, his fingers toying with her hardened nipples. “I know baby, I know. Missed my girl so much too” He whispered back, his hand resting on her hip to help her rock back and forth, his lips continuously kissing the back of her neck.

Henry had just come back filming a new movie, and was just in time for Christmas, his girlfriend of 2 years had decided to welcome him home with an amazing homemade dinner. Feeling stuffed to the brim with food, the couple decided to settle in the living room for a nap, only when things got silent both sets of hands went wandering. Starting with Henry removing Y/n’s cotton underwear from under her sweater, and Y/n slowly grinding onto Henry’s cock behind her.

“Go on butterfly, hug onto your pillow, i’ll take care of you love” Henry said watching his girl start to claw at her pillow, hugging onto it while he thrusted his cock into her velvety walls, her warm pussy sucking him in with every force. Whimpering Y/n wrapped her arms around the plush cushion, using it to slightly stifle her moans which were slowly increasing in volume.

“You’re so big, feel you stretching me out” Y/n whispered, her other hand holding onto Henry’s arm and pulling it over to wrap around her waist; ending with him pulling her flush against his chest, their bodies perfectly moulded together. “Can I cum inside you love? Is that okay?” Henry asked feeling his cock start to get even more sensitive.

Nodding against him Y/n snuggled her head into the crook of his arm that was around her torso, feeling her orgasm start to catch up to her as well. “Need words baby”

“Y-yes, cum inside me, wan’ feel all stuffed n’ warm” Y/n said softly, whimpering when Henry’s hand slowly slid down to toy with her clit that was now poking out of its lips, all swollen and asking to be played with. Starting to rub it gently as not to hurt Y/n, Henry felt himself empty out into her pussy, both of them gasping at the new sensations.

“Gonna cum bear, real soon” Lifting up her leg, Henry started to fuck his cum back into her, feeling the juices start to spill down her thighs. “You going to keep my cum inside you butterfly? Want to keep you full of me”

Nodding her head rapidly, Y/n’s legs started to shiver and spasm, her voice sending out muffled whimpers and moans. “F-fuck baby, feel you up here” Y/n whispered pulling Henry’s hand up her stomach, her orgasm slowly washing over her as Henry just let her rock back and forth at her own pace, pulling out once she calmed down.

His hands now pulling back her hair to swoop it into a low ponytail, both of his arms wrapped around her torso to pull her even more against him. His lips kissing the shell of her ear and whispering any and everything to calm down his girl, her heartbeat rapid against the palm of his hand.

“I got you butterfly, Hen’s got you” Turning around in his arms, Henry kissed her forehead, watching her glossy eyes stare up at him; her lips graced with a sleepy dopey smile. “I wanna feel you Bear, take it off” She complained tugging at her own jumper tiredly, Henry smiling at the clingy nature of his girl.

“Okay okay” In one swift motion Y/n was now naked, her warm skin against his, her eyes watching as Henry reached over for the couch blanket sitting by their feet.

Now engulfed by the warm fabric, Henry felt Y/n’s start to grind on his cock, her pussy lathering up his length in their mixed juices. “What do you think you’re doing butterfly?”

“can you stay inside me? J-just until I fall asleep” She asked looking up at him, placing tiny kisses onto his chest, neck and face. “Of course I can baby, is’ all yours” Henry growled kissing her lips softly, their tongues meeting in a sweet sloppy kiss as Y/n guided his tip into her wet cavern. Both of them hissing out at the slight overstimulation, but breathing out once Henry had filled her to the brim. His balls just resting against her pussy as Y/n shimmied closer to his chest, her arms wrapping around his torso.

Her fingers tracing over her man’s chest, playing with the curls decorated on it, smiling contently as Henry kissed her head every few seconds and reminding her how beautiful she looked. “You have never looked so beautiful my love” “Wish could keep you on my cock forever” “ I Love you so much, my gorgeous girl”

———

Taglist Tags (form is up there^^): @keiva1000 @spencerreidat4am @diyabhanushali1 @angelmather1 @hp-hogwartsexpress @lastwandastan @fdl305 @alexxavicry @bookfrog242 @alina02 @aerangi @i-beg-your-pardon-laufeyson @sparklemarysunshine @oliviah-25 @mischiefsemimanaged @nikkitc0703 @hallecarey1 @misshale21 @girl-of-multi-fandoms @mansaaay @princess-paramour @stormcloudss @uwiuwi @marvelgurl @taramaria @mysticfalls01 @kebabgirl67 @athena-roy @tinyelfperson @madebylilly @dumb-fawkin-bitch @vrittivsanghavi @beck07990 @kimhtoo17 @thereisa8ella @pandaxnienke

#henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill fandom #romance #henry cavill smut #henry cavill x female reader #henry cavill x you #henry cavill rpf

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loganbcrnes · 4 months

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this is definitely how Captain Syverson is built in my mind.

gif: @asgardswinter

18+, fem!reader under the cut

thinking about Alpha!Sy post retirement, so hes gained a little more weight. he still has a load of muscle and he does work out still. But instead of constantly eating MRE's when he is deployed, he now eats your food. and your food is fuckin' delicious. Even if you are a bad cook, he'll gobble it down anyways and take seconds because he knows how much effort you put into cooking.

Ofc you dont cook all the time (unless u wanna be a housewife which is ok) he cooks with you as well. and living in the mountains where it is often cold, eating good warm food is commended.

Hes always wrapping his arms around you. whenever you're folding laundry, cooking food, showering. he has his hands on you at all times. the big gruff alpha is soooo clingy. and you absolutely love it. And he knows how much you love the size difference. He does too, and take every opportunity he can to take advantage of that.

You love how warm he is. The alpha is just a hot furnace. So whenever you are cold, he's always there to wrap around you keeping you warm. burying your face in his hairy soft chest.

Sometimes you like to run your hands down his chest, to feel the muscle clench under your cold hands. Trailing your fingers through his hairy pecs and down to his thick happy trail. And when i say this man is hairy...hes hairy.

to the spicy part...his body is so big, when hes fucking you from the back, he towers over you, on his elbows beside your face. The man fucks with his body, not just his cock. his thick cock thrusting in and out of your wet cunt, clenching around him. He groans into your ear. He drives you mad with his noises.

"thas' it, Darlin'. takin' my cock so well". I just imagine him saying in that sweet accent of his. GRRRR

Oh and when he fucks you missionary as well (his favourite position), he has your legs press against your chest, and over his shoulders. he's just fucking into you, his big heavy balls slapping against your cunt. His thick legs on display, the muscles bulging out as he keeps himself up.

His giant hands are just everywhere, keeping your legs up. Or his hand is pressed against your tummy to feel his cock inside, around your throat (not choking), in your hair if he is fucking from the behind. He cannot get enough of you. He often slows down to just pick up his speed again, making sure he gets his knot inside of you. filling you up to the brim with his cum.

His pubes grind against your clit, his massive thick body towering over you, making you feel small.

Feel free to follow my twitter acc if u want! aquasuperbat

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princessaxoxo · 7 months

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Dad's Best Friend

August Walker x reader

Summary: August is your dad's best friend, and the two of you share a special afternoon.

Warnings: 18+ only, NSFW, unprotected sex (p in v), cussing, oral (f and m receiving), fingering, pet names (princess, my girl, baby, good girl), Age Gap

Wordcount: 1.8k+

A/N: Reader is in her mid 20s and august is in his 40s.

You attended your father's 46th birthday celebration; this year, he went above and beyond. Instead of hosting the celebration at his home as he usually did, he chose to rent a banquet hall. The reason? You did not know.

Nonetheless, the décor and the extravagantly dressed attendees were stunning. Ladies, including you in the most exquisite dresses, and men dressed in their best suits

As you moved around the room, you introduced yourself to everyone and thanked them on your father's behalf.

That is when you noticed him, August. You did not think he might be here, but he definitely would be given that your father and him have been close friends for a long time.

In the past, even with other people around, you did not dare to approach him. You were not as nervous anymore because you were older and had more life experience.

"Hey August, remember me?" you said as you entered his field of vision. "No, I am sorry; I don't," he said after giving you a quick glance. "Alexander's daughter, I know I do not look the same," you said with a smile as you looked at him. August's eyes nearly bulged out of his head in shock at what he was seeing.

Although he thought you were attractive the last time he saw you, he decided not to pursue you because you were the daughter of his close friend.

"Oh yes, I apologize. How are you doing?"

Compared to the earlier conversations you had that same night, this one between the two of you seemed to flow naturally.

August began to perceive you differently; you were not the same apprehensive college student he first met three years ago. That is what frightened him, because he did not care about the consequences of what he wanted to do to you and with you.

He eyed your movements more than he should’ve. Whether or not you noticed was irrelevant to him. How you occasionally licked your lips following each wine sip

He needed to leave your presence because of the unholy thoughts that started to run through his mind. "Please excuse me; I have to use the restroom." He smiled at you with his lips pursed.

You were upset in some ways and dreaded the conversation's end. However, you also departed to spend the rest of the evening with your parents.

When the cake was brought out for your father, everyone gathered. August put his arm around your father and shouted, "Happy birthday!" clearly drunk.

When your father went to blow out the candles, August looked at you with a lustful glare that made you squeeze your thighs together.

He noticed that, and it made his ego soar knowing he was making you feel that way.

You arrived at your parent's house the following morning. "Hello?" As there was nobody in sight when you went to look around, you made the decision to sit and wait for them.

After 30 minutes, you heard the door open. "Mom? Dad?” you called out.

"Unfortunately, no, I came by to say goodbye to your father," August said as he appeared.

“Oh, my parents' are out. I’m not sure when they’ll be back.” You looked to the couch and said, “If you like, you could sit and wait with me.”

He didn’t second-guess his choice.

He took a seat and began to man spread.

On a chair your parents had in the living room, you sat across from him.

Until he spoke, the two of you sat in quiet comfort. “If I have not already said so, you looked stunning last night.”

“Thank you; what I wore last night wasn’t my first choice, nor was the dress my favorite.” August stayed quiet for a moment, taking you in. He rubbed his jaw. "Well, still, you looked stunning. I'm sure you look stunning in anything you wear"

What he said shocked you, you hadn't expected to hear that from him.

You eyed him just as he did with you, and you realized that you hadn't seen someone look so good with a beard; you wanted to know how it would feel against your pussy while giving you head.

You were 99% sure it would feel like heaven.

Acting on instinct, you walked over to the couch and climbed onto his lap. He leaned his head back to look up at you with a smirk. “And what are you doing, princess?” You grabbed his jaw and kissed him. His lips were soft, moving elegantly against yours.

You felt his hardened cock underneath his slacks, and you started to rub yourself against his cock.

He grabbed the back of your neck, turning the soft kiss into a harsh one.

Holding onto you tightly, he turned you on your back. He started to kiss down your neck, your chest rising and falling at a rapid pace.

"Let's get your shirt off." He threw your shirt off and started kissing between your breasts. You leaned up for a moment to unclasp your bra. As soon as it was off, he grabbed each one, kissing and sucking your nipples and moaning around them.

"Fuck, you have the most perfect tits."

Moans were filling up the silence in the house.

You helped him undo your pants, and he smacked your thighs for you to open them wider.

"You're drenched for me already, princess." He moved your panties over and slid two of his fingers between your folds before removing them and tasting you.

He held a smirk on his face as he lowered himself. He ripped your panties, and you felt his breath over your bare pussy. "Please August"

"Tell me what you want, princess, and I'll give it to you."

You looked at him with pleading eyes and said, "Please lick my pussy; I need it."

He opened up your folds with his fingers and started sucking on your clit, he removed his mouth, and you whined. You leaned up to look at him; he spat down on your pussy and started to rub your clit. "Oh, shit" you moaned loudly.

You watched as he relentlessly sucked and licked your pussy repeatedly.

His eyes rolled to the back of his head. Your pussy tasted so sweet. "Does my girl want my fingers?" You couldn't get your words out; you nodded quickly.

"Give me your words."

"Yes, I want your fingers."

He plunged his fingers into you, and he watched as you threw your head back.

You could feel yourself on the verge of an orgasm. "I- I'm going to come." You held on to his hair as you grinded your pussy on his face.

Your moans became louder, and your thighs started to shake. He held a tight grip on them. Your eyes were shut tightly, and you saw spots behind them as you came on his face.

You were right; his beard felt fantastic against your pussy.

You watched him take off his shirt and then his slacks. He pulled out his enlarged cock, which was bigger than you anticipated.

"Open your mouth." You did as told; he looked at you, then his cock. "You know what to do, baby."

You kissed his head and then licked around his tip before fully taking his cock into your mouth. You began to hallow your cheeks as he pushed his cock down your throat. "God, baby, your mouth is a talent."

Tears started to brim in your eyes. "My girl looks gorgeous with my cock down her throat. Shit, I'm going to fucking cum." He spurted down your throat, and you proudly swallowed his load.

"I need to feel your pussy around my cock; I can't wait a moment longer."

He tapped his cock on your pussy, and moved between your folds. Your wetness spread over him before he delved into you. Your mouth parted with a moan. "Oh god, August."

"That's right, baby. Taking my dick so well. You're such a good girl for me."

He slowly built up a pace that had your eyes rolling into the back of your head. "Your pussy belongs to me now, do you understand?" He grunted out, "I've been thinking of this since last night, wondering how you feel around my cock."

He gave your face a little slap and grabbed your jaw. "Answer me."

"Yes, my pussy belongs to you."

Both of your moans were mixing together with the sound of slapping skin, and he was in awe at how your tits were bouncing up and down. He leaned down and licked around one of your nipples while pinching the other one.

He moved his lips upward and began to massage his tongue with yours. You moaned into the intense kiss you were sharing.

He grabbed one of your legs, lifting it onto his shoulder, kissing the side of your ankle, and holding onto your hips. This position allowed him to reach deeper. "August, baby, I'm going to come."

"Yeah, going to come all over my cock? Just like a good girl, I know you are."

He pulled you closer to him and increased his pace; your nails were scratching on his back. His grunts were sounds of pleasure and pain.

"Look at me; I want to see your pretty face while you come all over, my cock princess."

Your brows furrowed, and you felt that familiar feeling in your stomach while your thighs began to shake.

"Oh, oh yes."

August was close to your face, your lips brushing against one another.

"I'm going to fill up your sweet pussy; make you full of me, baby."

"Yes, please"

He kissed you hard before he moaned out, filling you with his cum. August thrusted inside you a few more times to get every drop of him into you.

August removed his cock, and at the same time, you heard a car pulling into the driveway.

"Shit!"

In a hurry, you and August got dressed.

Your parents walked through the door. "y/n, where are you, sweetie?"

"I'm in the living room." You smiled at her once you saw her. She looked over at August, not expecting to see him. "August, what are you doing here?" He responded kindly to her, "I was coming to say goodbye to my best man, of course."

Your mother told him where your father was, and afterward, she walked to you. "Are you okay? you're flustered."

"Yes, of course I'm okay. Just excited to spend my last night with both you and Dad."

Your mother, being the sweetest person on the planet, of course, believed your lie.

"y/n come say bye to August."

You walked to him, standing in front of the door. "It was so nice seeing you again. It was a pleasure." The smile you held was genuine.

"No, trust me, the pleasure was all mine." August brought you in for a hug and whispered in your ear.

"You will keep my cum in you for the rest of the day. If you don't, I will find out. I'll be seeing you love." He gave you a kiss on your cheek before bidding your parents goodbye for the last time.

#henry cavill #first post #henry cavill smut #smutty #henry cavill x reader #august walker #august #august walker x reader #august walker smut #august walker x you #august walker fanfiction #henry cavill characters #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction

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gummydummy19 · 4 months

Text

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

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imyourbratzdoll · 1 year

Note

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.

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maggotzombie · 11 months

Text

the day/night we met ; henry cavill

PAIRING — Henry Cavill x Reader (fem) SUMMARY — On your wedding day, your Maid of Honor prepares a special gift to which you and Henry have distinct responses. WORDS — 1,8k TW — nothing really just a lot of fluff, emotions (I cried a bit writing it), Henry in a suit 😈. A/N — Hi! I'm not dead, just quit the most toxic job ever so I'm getting back here lol Here's a short but very dear fic to me that I wrote last year but never posted. I'm so happy to finally post this! This story has been in my head for two years now and it came out better than I thought.

Song insp.: Eu Me Lembro by Clarice Falcão feat. Silva

— 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙

“ALRIGHT,” YOUR MAID OF HONOR smiles, carefully wiping her tears with a napkin. “After making you cry and potentially ruining some makeup,” The room laughs. “I’ve prepared something different to end this on a high note.”

This is one of the dearest moments of your life: your wedding. You’re marrying your soulmate. Your heart could burst with love and happiness whenever.

Everything’s perfect, from your dress to the lights of the venue. Henry – your newly proclaimed spouse – has an arm around you as you listen to your family and friends' speeches about you and your love.

You found it strange when your Maid of Honor wasn’t the first to speak, but it seems she has a reason for it. Immediately, you feel anxious, but in a good way.

“When these two told me they were getting married, I knew I wanted to do something special for them,” Your best friend starts. “I just didn’t know what, but I knew it had to be something remarkable, something for them to look back and have a good laugh,” She looks at the both of you with tears in her eyes, chuckling.

You also wipe tears off your eyes, smiling back at her, and Henry tightens his embrace around you.

“So I sat down with these two, separately, and started to ask a few questions,” She smiles and wiggles her eyebrows, which is an expression you know very well.

‘Oh my,’ You think. ‘What is she up to?’

“Things started to get really interesting from the start, and I decided to make a video out of it,” Your best friend winks at you. “Without further ado, enjoy it.”

With a pleasant smile, she sits down. The attention turns to the screens set around the venue.

You remember sitting with your Maid of Honor to chat about your relationship. You didn’t really understand why she wanted to do that. However, it always has been effortless talking about Henry, and you brushed it off as having something to do with the wedding.

You recall having a great time answering her questions – drinks might have been involved beforehand, but the whole process was surprisingly professional.

Your friend’s face pops up on the screen as she introduces herself. “In this little video, I wanted to talk about our lovely couple’s amazing and fun story, especially the day they met,” She explains. “Newlyweds, I love you very much, and I hope you like this little something I put together for you.”

She blows a kiss and waves. Then in fancy lettering, “A love story” is scribbled on the top-left corner of the screen, and “A story of love” on the bottom right corner. You wonder why both phrases – which convey the same thing – are on the video, but the thought quickly slips your mind when your smiling face appears on the screen.

“State your name and occupation, please,” Your friend prompts on the video, but she’s out of the shot.

You roll your eyes amusedly. “What’s this, a trial? I’m innocent, your honor!” You giggle, making everybody at the venue laugh.

You answer the question anyway, and your name also appears written on the video.

“For the purpose of… this, I’m the bride?” It sounds like a question, and you make a face, unsure of yourself.

She never explained what the video was for, in your defense.

Right after you, Henry appears. “I’m Henry, and I am the lucky groom,” He smiles brightly, looking as handsome as always.

“So, tell me, how did you meet Henry?” Your friend asks, and your smile is instant as you remember that exact day as if it was yesterday. “How did you meet Y/N?” She asks him in the next scene, and his reaction is the same.

“I was hosting a brunch,” You start, your eyes unfocused as the vivid memory plays in your mind. “And it was morning when Henry arrived.”

When he reapers, you can tell it’ll cut back and forth between you. “I was throwing a party, and she was the one that came around. I think it was three in the afternoon,” Henry replies, quite differently from you.

You scoff mockingly, looking at him by your side. He chuckles, brushing it off with a shoulder tic before you turn back to the screen.

“And I said: ‘Hi, come on in, make yourself at home,’ You know, something of the sorts,” You shrug off.

Your betrothed chuckles in the video, scratching his chin in thought. “I was the one that said hello, but she didn’t hear.”

His comment makes the venue erupt in laughter. You meet Henry’s loving gaze again and squeeze his hand, making him bring yours up to press a kiss on your knuckles.

If your shared story had different and entertaining versions until now, it’d just get better!

After being asked about first impressions of one another, he replies: “She thought I was hilarious,” He says with such confidence that is endearing.

In your turn, you laugh and cover your mouth as if what you are about to say it’s an embarrassing secret.

“Oh my god, he wouldn’t stop talking! Like a lot!” You emphasize. “And I pretended to laugh the entire time,” You say very sheepishly before throwing your head back in laughter again. “That’s terrible. I feel like I need to apologize,” You add after your fit.

“Oh, I just remembered something,” He suddenly announces, and his smile is wide as the memory toy around in his head. “Her blouse was inside out,” He chuckles, eyes focused on a spot. “She’s so adorable and such a goof, isn’t she?” He looks back at the camera.

“He loved the way I was dressed,” You giggle, visibly shivering as you physically remember the feeling of him truly looking at you for the first time.

Your friend asks another question, changing the subject slightly, but Henry shakes his head.

“Yeah, the party was great! Everybody was having a good time, but I only remember searching for her when she wasn’t near me. Trying to get another look, you know?” He says.

In turn, you scoff. “No one was dancing! I don’t remember who was taking care of the music, but it was terrible!” Your genuine response makes the room fills with laughter another time. “At least everyone had a drink in hand and ate something.”

“Oh, yes. The food was wonderful. Everything homemade,” Your partner assures with a proud nod naively.

“I bought everything off Tesco,” You rushedly confess, throwing your head back in laughter again.

Back to the present moment, you’re wiping the new tears from the corners of your eyes due to laughter. You love the good energy around the room as your guests and yourself enjoy the video your Maid of Honor made.

Now you understand both phases in the beginning, and although you and Henry have very distinct versions of the day you met, you love both of them and the feelings they bring you.

However, something changes in the next second of the video. For the first time, on a split-screen, you two appear together.

“When I saw him, I knew it (When I saw her, I knew it),” You both say simultaneously. “She (He) was the person I’d spend the rest of my life with,” You continue.

Glancing at him, you’re surprised to see he’s already looking at you. Then you exchange a knowing look. It seems like you got on the same page in this part of the video.

“And that’s how I realized that life put him (her) in my life,” You say in unison. “On that Tuesday (Thursday) of September (December),” Your responses overlap with each other, drawing amused reactions from people.

“That’s why I remember everything, of every second,” Both of you state, which is downright ironic at this point. “Ask me anything that I remember.”

“I remember,” You proudly declare with a grin but, this time, by yourself.

And so does Henry. “I remember,” He nods with a beam.

The video ends there, and the room erupts in applause, whistles, and hollered praises.

Words couldn’t describe the dazzling feelings you’re experiencing if you wanted to. You can’t be more grateful to your friend for this treat either. And, of course, the man you now get to call your husband.

The spotlight of attention returns to you as you’re exchanging the most enamored gaze ever. Henry leans in and presses his lips to your forehead, making you close your eyes. Slowly, you allow all those remarkable sensations to wash over you.

When you reopen your eyes, you smile at him before looking at your Maid of Honor. “Thank you so much for this extremely thoughtful gift. We both loved it a lot.”

Henry confirms with a head gesture.

“Words won’t do justice to how much you’re special to me. I’m just so grateful I get to share such a special and meaningful moment of my life, like this one, with you,” Your voice cracks at the end, and you smile, trying to hold your tears at bay as you can see she’s doing the same. “So I can’t thank you enough.”

As the room gets loud with another round of applause and cheers, she smiles, mouthing an “I love you too” to you. Wiping your tears carefully one more time, you chuckle.

“Although, I only have one question,” You announce, making the room pipe down. “Was my blouse really inside out?” You giggle as you look back at Henry.

Your husband starts to laugh. “Yeah,” He confirms bashfully. “Yeah, it was,” He nods as your guests join you in laughter.

“Oh, God. I can’t believe it,” You shake your head in embarrassment. “I also would like to point out that my husband clearly has a lot of experience with interviews,” You remark, addressing the room. “I feel kinda bad after saying I was pretending to laugh at his jokes when he’s all loving and caring,” You rejoin your friends and family in fun.

“I do tell bad jokes,” Henry concedes in your defense. “I love how genuine you are, and you’re loving and caring to me, too,” You nearly melt at his famous Hollywood-star smile.

The sound of ‘aww’s’ fills the room. “You see what I’m dealing with?” You joke, making everybody chuckle.

You give him a chaste but affectionate peck on the lips. Your wedding coordinator decides it’s time for the first dance to open the floor to make your guests burn some energy after the buffet.

And so, feeling the most secure and happy while pressed against your husband’s chest with his arms around you, you swing slowly. By sharing the same air, the same space, and the same feelings, you can’t think of anything better.

It all started on a Tuesday morning in September for you. But for him, it was a Thursday afternoon in December. Now, it is a Saturday evening in November that you’ll never forget.

You will remember. Everything. Of every second.

#henry cavill #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill x you #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill rpf #henry cavill x y/n #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill headcanon #the witcher #geralt of rivia #august walker #clark kent #superman #sherlock holmes

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boxofbonesfic · 2 months

Text

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…

295 notes · View notes

drewharrisonwriter · 9 months

Text

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

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hertzwritings · 2 years

Text

You should see me in a crown

A/N: Yeah, you’re getting more – I am procrastinating hard because I hate exams and they kill me. Anyway, I hope y’all will enjoy it, because I sure as hell loved writing it! Also, I’m trying to go as much in order as possible – hopefully, it’s by request, but if I can’t remember which came first, I’ll do them in numerical order of the prompt-list.

Prompt: Y/N is a lingerie-model and she needs help getting some photos added to her portfolio – who better than her hot photographer-neighbor?

You can buy me a coffee here, and I’ll write you a personalized drabble, one shot or multichapter fic, with whatever you want in it!

Remember, feedback feeds the soul (mine in particular) and my requests – and askbox – are always open – there’s no limits because I am me, and I have none!

MASTERLIST

PROMPTLIST

ASK ME ANYTHING/REQUESTS

Pairing: Photographer!Henry Cavill x female reader

Contains: Language, strangers to lovers, fluff, SMUT (18+, MINORS DNI), fingering, oral (f recieving), dirty talk, cream pie, praise kink, slight degradation kink, slight dumbification, SO MUCH SEXUAL TENSION, p in v, unprotected sex

W.C.: 4.743 (whoops)

You should see me in a crown

You groaned and tried to angle yourself better – it didn’t help, half of your body was either obscured, or your body looked off. It was annoying. Damn this pandemic, having booked up any available photographers for the next four months, when you needed your portfolio up to date by the end of the week.

Apparently, selfies weren’t really a go-to when it came to that kind of thing. You had managed fine with the headshots, but the rest was all wrong and off, and you were shit out of options at this point.

You groaned and pulled your robe on, tightening it around your waist, covering the expensive lingerie you had been sent; it was beautiful, rose-colored and lacy, but you couldn’t capture it right at all.

This called for your favorite: Pizza. Maybe not the best option for you, seeing as you were modeling underwear, but you needed comfort and cheese. Stat. You ordered quickly and poured yourself a healthy glass of wine, when you heard it – your neighbor began playing his music again, and you tilted your head with a smile on your lips, trying to figure out what he was listening today.

You never really spoke to apartment A34. He was nice, but really quiet. He had moved in a week after you, and other than the occasional hey when you spotted each other in the hallway, you didn’t really know him or anything about him. He did have a nice, soft and deep voice, and the smile could melt stone. He wore a camera around his neck almost all the time, you saw him.

The only thing you knew for sure, was that his music reflected his feelings. You had gathered that fact after you ran into a rather uptight-looking woman, who rushed from his apartment, mumbling something under her breath about crazy photographers and their shit and he had blasted Halestorm (and Love bites (but so do I) had been repeated more times than necessary) through the night. You didn’t mind. Then it was Hozier, which only played when it rained, sometimes followed by the smell of apple-pie. He listened to The Beatles on good days, where you could faintly hear him sing along, and on sunny days, he listened to Mother Mother, which, in your opinion, wasn’t exactly sunny music, but you didn’t mind. He had good taste, at least.

Today it was something new; it sounded like The Bravery, which you hadn’t heard him play before, and you tapped your foot along to it, as you waited for your food to arrive. You cleaned up a little, trying to pass time, and you sighed gratefully when a knock sounded on the door.

You opened it to your handsome A34-neighbor, who held a pizzabox and a sheepish smile on his face. “Hi, sorry. They, er, delivered this. I’m pretty sure I didn’t order it, so…” He handed it to you. “Thank you. Happens more than I like.” You said with a smile and pointed to his camera, that was dutifully slung around his neck. “Photographer?” You asked. He nodded. “Yep. I, er…” You smiled. “British?” “Yeah, is it that obvious?” He asked, smirking a little. “A little. It’s cute, though. Fits you.” You said, before looking down at your pizza. “I should…” “Oh, of course. Have a good night, A32.” He said with a grin. “You too, A34.”

--------------

While you chewed your way through cheesy goodness, you were deep in thought. It might be a shitty idea brought on by copious amounts of wine, or maybe you just had zero self-respect at this point, but the thought of asking A34 for help seemed like a better and better idea by the second.

You decided it wouldn’t hurt to at least ask, so you gathered all your courage and straightened up, fixed your hair, and trudged to his door, knocking softly. You had to knock three times before the music turned down and the door opened to a rather surprised face.

“A32. What can I do for you?” he asked, leaning against the doorframe. His arms were huge, you noted – it sent an involuntary shiver run down the length of your body, and you did your very best to appear very professional and not at all thirsty.

“So, you’re a photographer.” “I am.” “What kind?” “Am I in a job-interview?” he asked with a raised eyebrow and a playful smile on his lips. “I do a little of everything. I’m best with portraits.” You exhaled. “Thank God. Okay, do you by any chance have time to help me out?” He looked at you with furrowed brows. “Oh, shit, sorry. I’m a model, and I need some shoots for my portfolio, but because of the pandemic, every single photographer has been booked out for months. I have a week.” You said sheepishly. “I promise, I’ll pay you. I just… I won’t get jobs if I don’t have a portfolio that’s up to date.” You finished with a hopeful smile. “Err…” He bit his lip – why was that so damn hot – and glanced behind him. “You know what, I can probably take a few for you.” You jumped in happiness and hugged him – he grunted at the impact, but hesitantly wrapped his arms around your waist. You pulled away with warm cheeks. “Thank you so much.” He smiled. “No problem. I’ll be over in 15.” You turned to leave, when he called out. “Wait, can’t call you A32 forever. What’s your name?” You grinned widely at him. “Y/N.” “Hi, Y/N, good to meet you. I’m Henry.” The way he spoke your name, almost tasting it as it rolled over his tongue, made you clench your thighs together. Shit.

Exactly 15 minutes later (all of which you had spent throwing the mess in your apartment into every, single closet and dresser, while trying to make yourself look presentable and without cheese between your teeth), he knocked on your door.

“It’s open, come on in!” You yelled out, fixing the three sets of lingerie, you needed pictures of on your couch. He stepped inside, carrying a camera in his hand, one around his neck and a case full of lenses in his right hand. You quirked your eyebrow at it. He grinned and carefully set everything down.

“Didn’t know what you needed when it came to focus, lenses and or light. Might as well come prepared, right?” You nodded. “Seriously, thank you. Do you want a glass of wine or a beer?” He hummed. “Wine would be great. American beer taste like straight piss.” You laughed and poured him a hearty glass of wine, handing it over. He took a sip.

“So, what are we shooting? And where?” He looked around your apartment. “It’s cozy, by the way.” You grinned. “Thank you. I try.” You glanced at him – he looked oddly at home in your apartment, both like he had been here several times before, but also – in a strange way – like he belonged.

“You know, I hear your music sometimes.” You said, drinking a sip of your own wine. You didn’t get nervous in front of cameras normally, so why was this guy making you feel like a leaf, holding on against the sheer force of wind on a late autumn day? Maybe, you mused, it was the fact that his head almost hit your ceiling-lamp and he took up a lot of space in your small living room. He was a giant, broad and if he didn’t exude casual energy, you were sure he’d command a room just by stepping into it. “Oh, really? Shit, I’m sorry.” You shook your head and laughed a little. “It’s fine, really. I like it. I can kind of tell what kind of day you’re having with your choice in music.” “Fuck.” He chuckled. “Damn, you know a lot more about me than I know about you, then. I’ll keep it down.” “it’s fine, seriously. I don’t think you’re playing all that loud, the walls are just really thin, and I think that your living room borders my bedroom.” You said with a shy smile. You didn’t want to think about the possibility of that sound traveling both ways, because that meant he had heard some less than savory things coming from you late at night. “Enlighten me, then. What is your thesis on my mood and music?” You shrugged and drank again, feeling a little hot under his gaze. “You listen to If I Fell by the Beatles when you’re stressed. I can hear you banging about when it plays.” He hummed. “Oh, and I’d steer clear of you if you’re listening to Black Label Society. I can hear you stomp around.” He laughed at that. “Damn, I should listen to something new to keep you on your toes.” “I like knowing you like that. It’s intimate.” You closed your eyes in pure shame. “Oh my God, just forget that.” He roared with laughter. “Okay, let’s just… Okay, just, we’re shooting in here.” You said, laughing along with him as you led him to your bedroom – he was easy to be around, which was a definite plus. “Oh, your bedroom?” He asked, swallowing thickly. “Yeah, it’s the best light in the entire apartment. Hope that’s okay…?” You asked, pointing to the ring light you had set up. “I mean, I have this, so the light will be better. The sun’s down, so the natural light is a bust.” He nodded, going into photographer-mode. “Would you mind if I move around a bit?” “Not at all.” He nodded. “Oh, what are we shooting?” He asked absentmindedly. “Well… So, I’m a lingerie-model.” You said with a sly smile. He sputtered. “Sorry?” Your cheeks were burning up. “Yeah. And I need some new things because a few… Uhm, areas have changed a bit.” You said, glancing down at your chest. You had previously thought that boob-growth would stop after your teens, but apparently not. “So… I, er, you need… Me… Er, to..” “Take pictures? Headshots and a few full body pictures? I need a few different sets photographed, because they sit differently depending on what type it is.” You explained, wringing your hands. “Would that be okay?” He swallowed again, his eyes darting to your robe. “Oh, yeah, sure. I just… Need to get the right lenses. And all that jiz…” he caught himself. “All that jazz.” You swallowed thickly. Oh boy, this was going to be hard. “Cool. I’ll let you set up and, uh, I’ll… Get my stuff ready.” Why did he have to be attractive?

You came back to the bedroom a few minutes later, while he was screwing on a lens – he had moved your bed a little out of the way (how he had managed that alone boggled your mind, because it had required you and two movers to put it in place) and he had put up the light where he wanted it. “I was thinking we’ll do some soft light ones, maybe on the bed, and a few full body ones on the stool.” He pointed to a stool from your kitchen, he had placed in front of the only blank wall in your bedroom. “We’ll see what feels most comfortable for you, and just kind of experiment, if you’re up for it?” He was being entirely professional, and you thanked him silently for being able to do it. You nodded and smiled. “I have three different sets to shoot, so could we maybe start on the stool? I’d love to have some standing ones too.” “Oh, yeah, of course. Whenever you’re ready.” “How much am I going to owe you?” You asked, pulling your wallet out. “Oh, about that…” He smiled sweetly at you. “I was actually wondering if you wanted to do a few extra for me? It would be a great way to expand on my own portfolio as well.” “Seriously?” “Yeah. Free of charge, if you’re okay with lending me your body.” He coughed. “For pictures! Pictures, of course.” You bit your lip. “Sure thing, Henry.” You walked to the stool and stood in front of it as he adjusted the lights and the setting on his camera. “Can you take the robe off? I need to see how the light reflects on your skin in the camer…” He stopped talking when the robe fell from your shoulders. The rose-colored set with garters seemed to have left him speechless. You looked at him through your eyelashes – totally unintentionally, of course – and cleared your throat. “Is this okay…?” You asked. He nodded. “Y-yeah, that’s, er, t-that’s great. Just… One moment, please.” He looked through his camera and tweaked a few things. “Would you mind if I put music on? I just feel more at ease like that.” You were lying through your teeth. You would have no issue doing this without music, but you needed something to distract yourself just a little. Besides, you had the perfect playlist in mind.

“Yeah, no, go right ahead.” You jumped off the stool and turned on your speakers, finding your playlist – you had in a bout of inspiration called it fuck me – and put it on. You breathed a sigh of relief as familiar music began streaming and you got back on the chair. “Ready when you are.”

The stool-pictures had gone easily by, him telling you positions that would work best on camera and he even went as far as adjusting you sometimes – every time his warm hand touched your skin, you had sucked in a breath, trying to contain your absolutely inappropriate wetness. When you decided it was enough, you quickly switched to a different set – this one was red, and a babydoll in sheer mesh covered most of you, but you realized that your nipples were very visible through the sheer fabric. You groaned. Fucking shit.

“Let’s do a few standing.” He mumbled, not looking at you. You stood in front of the ring light, and when he saw you through his lens, you swore you heard him mutter a small fucking shit. “Yup, perfect. Right there.” He huffed, biting his teeth together hard enough to make his jaw clench.

This shoot went on just as well as the other, but the tension was insane. You felt like you could barely breathe, while he snapped pictures of you, still adjusting you every which way, sometimes even grazing your hardened nipple. It was too much.

“I’ll… Change.” You mumbled, hurrying from your bedroom as the thumbing tones from E-girls are ruining my life rang out behind you. You were an idiot for putting music on, that would under normal circumstances make you feel wild and slightly horny.

The last set was black and lacy, but sheer as hell. It had a garterbelt and thigh highs too, the fabric of the bra barely covered your chest and the high-waisted thong made you shiver; you knew it looked good, but you were a little worried about wearing so little in front of him. Hopefully his camera wouldn’t pick up on how wet you were.

His eyes found yours in the moment, you stepped inside, and he groaned. “Come on.” He looked like he was in pain. “Bed?” You asked, and he nodded tightly. You didn’t miss the way he adjusted himself in his pants but decided to ignore it. You were a professional, after all. You laid down on the bed and he snapped a few pictures, before showing them to you. “Wow, I think I got what I needed!” You said happily. “Uh, did you want to get some as well?” You asked softly. He drew a deep breath. “Yeah. If that’s okay.” “Sure thing. Tell me what to do.” He sucked a breath in between his teeth and you clenched your thighs together. Fucking hell, it had gotten hot in here. “Okay, can you lay on your stomach, legs up and crossed? Oh, and take your hair down, please.” You followed instructions and you heard a small, almost inaudible whisper of fuck as you did. “Okay, now… Cross your arms at the elbows, and kind of… Stretch out a little. Elongate your back and push your, er, behind up, please.” You looked at him with a smirk and a crooked eyebrow. “Just trust me.” He grinned. “Alright.” You did what he asked, and you instantly felt why he needed you like this; you felt sexy as hell in this position. You shot him a smile through the tufts of hair hanging down. “Fuck, yes. Stay right there, like that.” He snapped a few pictures. “Okay… Do you trust me?” Weirdly, you did. “Yes.” “Good. Can you lay down on your back for me, darling?” The nickname wasn’t lost on you, and it sent shivers down your legs. He cocked an eyebrow. “Oh, yeah.” You laid on your back, and he let the camera fall to his chest again, hanging from the strap on his neck. “Two seconds. Is it okay if I touch you?” He asked genuinely. You nodded. “Thank you.” He smiled and began arranging your hair around your face, the tip of his tongue sticking out slightly between his lips. You had to seriously contain yourself from sucking it. He began slowly letting his fingers trail down to your arms, leaving goosebumps in his wake, whenever he touched your skin. He slowly, but surely, grabbed your wrists and you sucked in a sharp breath as you felt his fingers wrap around your wrists, before slowly moving your arms above your head, crossing your wrists. You were shaking, when he slowly moved his hands to your waist – letting his fingers trail to your ribs first – and then your hips, grabbing them and angling you a little. You didn’t know what to do with yourself. His fingers were burning on your skin, and there was tension high enough to power a small city between you. His fingers slid from your hips to your thighs and you almost moaned when the tips of his fingers held your inner thighs until they moved to your knees. He grabbed you from the back of your knee and lifted your leg into position. He shot you a smile, his eyes a little darker than before, and then he climbed on the fucking bed.

You didn’t move, when he stood, straddling your shins with wide legs, angling the camera. “Perfect.” He mumbled and you looked straight into the lens. You had never felt anything more sensual than this very moment. “Okay, can you… This is going to sound weird, but can you think of something… Sexy?” “Something sexy?” You could think of plenty. “Like what?” He blushed a little and lowered the camera. “I just need a specific look from you.” “Henry, just say what you need.” He licked his lips. “Think of whatever you want someone to do to you. What you like… What turns you on, anything, really.” You exhaled a shaky breath. No problem.

“You got it.” Your mind flooded with absolutely filthy things. Henry pinning your wrists as you moaned underneath him. Henry between your legs. Henry fucking you deeply, biting your collarbone. Kissing Henry. In reality, you just imagined Henry and that was more than enough. You didn’t even notice him taking pictures, much less the way he shifted a little to alleviate some of the tension in his pants.

“Thank you. I think I got it.” He whispered and pulled you from your thoughts. “Are you sure?” You didn’t want him to leave. “Uh…” “I mean, I think I, uh, might need some help with the right expression.” You said boldly – you didn’t know where it came from, and you honestly didn´t care as soon as you saw his eyes darken significantly. “Y/N, I…” “I just want to make sure you have a good picture.” You said slowly, eyes trained on him. “It would be a shame, if my expression ruined that for you…” The camera hung limply from his chest now, and you could practically see the gears turning in his head. “Whatever you think I mean, yes.” You whispered.

He quickly got down, resting his body on top of yours and his lips were so fucking close, you could almost taste him. “If I start, I might not stop.” He said slowly, his breath fanning over your face. It was intoxicating. “Who said I wanted you to stop?” “Darling, I would ruin you.” You smirked at him and wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Try me.” “Fucking hell, princess.”

And all thoughts went right out of your head, because he pulled his camera off himself quicker than you could even see, and his lips slotted over yours with absolute urgency. You moaned against his lips, electricity running through your body like wildfires. You wrapped your legs around his hips, your heels digging into his ass, pulling him closer to you; his tongue found yours and you mewled as you felt his erection press against your clothes. You were both moaning into the kiss, hands frantic as you both tried to undress him and you. “You suck at taking my shirt off.” He laughed, pulling it over his head. “Shut up, it was tight.” You were desperate for his lips back on yours and it was near unbearable. He groaned and bit down on your lower lip, tugging it slightly. You whimpered. “Oh, you like it a little rough, love…? You want me to ruin you, don’t you, princess?” You moaned again, rolling your hips to create friction on your clit. He hissed and grabbed your hair, pulling it roughly. “F-fuck, Henry…” You were breathless, completely ready to give him whatever he asked for. You’d soul your soul for this man, as long as he kept going. His free hand undid his pants, and he pushed them down his legs with urgency, before two fingers found the waistband of your panties. “Fond of these?” “I mean, yeah…” He groaned and quickly tugged them down your legs. “Fine, I won’t ruin this pair, then.” Your eyes rolled back at the ferocity of his voice. A completely ungodly sound left your lips when his thick fingers found your dripping pussy, entering you with ease. “Oh, baby, you don’t even need me to warm you up, do you? Such a good girl, just ready for me…” He dragged his fingers in and out of you, edging you closer to your high, and you whined. “Such a little whore, aren’t you? Willing to fuck me just for taking your pictures?” Normally, you’d have his damn head for saying shit like that, but you felt a gush of wetness at his words; it was disgusting and filthy, but it turned you on like nothing else. “There’s a good girl… You want to cum for me?” He asked, his lips trailing down your body until he blew a gust of cool air on your throbbing clit. You writhed under him. “Fuck, just… Fucking…” You didn’t know what you wanted, but you wanted something. His fingers were unrelenting in you, and he chuckled darkly, the sound sending shockwaves through your entire body. You weren’t prepared for his mouth and tongue attacking your wet pussy. You screamed in pleasure as he began sucking and licking like a man possessed. Your hips were rolling against his face and fingers, your high so fucking close. “Fuck, you taste like heaven, darling…” He groaned, tongue lapping at your folds. You writhed and your hips bucked, the familiar heat in your abdomen building until it nearly reached its crescendo, when he stopped. “Baby girl, you better ask first…” he whispered, the sound muffled slightly by your thighs. “Are you fucking kidding me!?” You moaned, and his mouth left yours – he instead slapped down on your clit with his wide hand, and you screamed, arching your back off the bed. “Play nice, or I won’t.” he promised. “Fuck, sorry… Please, please, can I cum, please, Henry…” He chuckled. “Fast learner.” He lowered his face again. “You can cum, love.” His mouth and tongue began their attack again as his fingers sped up, and you barely had time to fucking breathe before an orgasm overwhelmed you; you exploded on him, your wetness gushing from you as you came hard, your hips bucking as he ate you through your orgasm.

“Fucking shit…” You moaned, grabbing at his hair to pull him up. He willingly followed, his cheeks and chin wet with you, and you kissed him deeply, tasting yourself on his tongue. You whimpered against him, your hand snaking between your bodies to grab at his throbbing cock. He moaned as you began jerking you off, his fingers leaving you. “Don’t… I want to last, baby… Need to be inside of you, princess.” He said breathily. You sighed dramatically. “Fine, I guess I’ll save the cock-worship for another day.” You grinned at him when you felt him twitch in your hand. “Oh, this is all about you, darling… You did so good for me, you deserve a reward, don’t you?” You preened under his praise. “Please…” He nudged your clit with his thick cockhead, teasing you and coating himself in your slick. “Please, what, princess?” You could hear the smirk on his lips. “Please… Fuck me… Please, fuck me until I can’t think.” He growled and in one, swift move, he was inside of you – you moaned as he stretched you completely. “Fuck, you are big… Shit…” “You can take it, you’re my good girl, aren’t you?” He asked, nibbling at your collarbone as he slowly inched inside of you. When he bottomed out, you both exhaled a moan, your fingers digging into his shoulders. “I swear to God, if you don’t move…” He laughed at your impatience, but nonetheless, he slowly pulled out before slamming harshly back into you.

He wasn’t kidding when he said he’d ruin you. For any other man in all planes of existence. You were a mess under him, your arms and legs desperately clinging to him as he fucked you deeply, his head hitting your g-spot every single time, and you cried out as he dragged against your walls, his fingers finding your nipple and rolling and pinching it. “Fuck, look at you taking me so fucking well…” He sat up, holding your legs to his chest before spreading them out, fucking into you even deeper. You angled your hips up, allowing him to grab your ass to hold onto as he sped up. Your walls clenched around him. “Is my pretty girl going to cum again, huh? Want to make a mess of my cock, princess?” He grunted, and you barely had breath enough in you to tell him, yes, fuck yes I am – he grinned and his thumb found your clit, adding pressure to it. “Then cum for me, love…” You didn’t have to be told twice. You came for a second time tonight, earthshattering pleasure coursing through your veins and your entire body went tight as a bowstring; he growled and picked up the pace even more, slamming deeply into you as you rode out your orgasm, letting it wash over you. You were incoherent at this point, begging for something. “Aw, look at you, all cock-drunk on me… So pretty, when you’re fucked stupid, aren’t you?” His long fingers found your mouth. “Suck.” You wrapped your lips around his fingers, hollowing your cheeks and began sucking his fingers, twirling your tongue against the pads of his fingers and he grunted, his pace stuttered. “Where do you want me to cum, love?” he asked between moans. “I’m getting so fucking close…” he mumbled, looking down at where your dripping pussy swallowed his thick cock. “In me. Fill me, please, please…” You mumbled around his fingers. His eyes gleamed and he pulled his fingers from you and leaned down to capture your lips with his again.

His pace was otherworldly, and when his hips stuttered again, you moaned and wrapped your legs around his hips, driving him deeper. Your walls pulsed around him, and he roared as he came, spilling ropes of cum inside of you.

You were both panting and sweating, when he grinned mischievously and fumbled on the ground, producing his camera. He snapped a picture of your flushed, smiling and downright drunk face. “You look so pretty like this, darling.” You chuckled weakly. “You should see me in a crown.” He laughed and kissed you softly.

“This is going to be a habit, isn’t it?” He asked against your lips.

“Not without dinner first, it’s not.” You replied, kissing him back.

-----------------------

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f10werfae · 8 months

Text

Pretty Girl

pairing: Dad!sy x Pregnant!Mom!Reader

summary: Baby Ellie has her daddy wrapped round her little finger, but so does her momma. After-all they’re his pretty girl (smut)

Likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated/Disclaimer 18+

Henry Masterlist, Full Masterlist

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“Hey pretty, c’mere and give me a kiss” Sy cooed nuzzling into his wife’s side on their bench swing in the backyard, his hands rubbing over her exposed bump which was housing their second baby. “mhm okay” She gave in ultimately giving him a soft wet kiss, having to push him away for a breath. “D-da d-da” Both their heads turning to face their 1 year old babygirl, who was settled on her play mat out in the shade.

Aika rested her head on her paws whilst on the play mat, letting baby Ellie rest her body against hers, ultimately using Aika as her backrest. The Syverson family was spending this nice summers day out on the porch, with Ellie clad in only a diaper just to keep her cool. “Yes my gorgeous girl, ya enjoyin’ bein’ out here with your momma and dada?” Sy cooed slipping off the bench and onto the mat a few feet away, Ellie was holding up her own bottle as she drank away, her other hand reaching up for Sy’s hand.

Ever since Ellie had seen the effect of the word ‘da’ on her daddy, she’s been using it ever since as a sign of a beck and call. “Da, da da” The soft curled bundle of joy tottered away from Aika’s body and wobbled her way onto her daddy’s lap. “Aren’t ya jus’ precious sweetpea, you n your mama n’ baby brother” Sy growled peppering kisses all over Ellie’s face until she started giggling and had to push his face away.

“Sy stop it and give her a chance” Y/n giggled watching, knowing damn well her babygirl loved giving out kisses too, Ellie’s lips already pouting out to land kisses on her daddy’s beard covered cheek. “mwah da” Ellie babbled happily, her curls bouncing with her, her hands on his shoulders to stabilise her standing up. “Wow babygirl, best kiss av ever gotten” Sy gasped hugging her tiny body to his immediately, carrying her onto his lap again.

“Da-da baba?” Ellie pulled away looking up with her innocent doe eyes, picking up her empty bottle up to her daddy, another small pout playing on her lips. “N' here I thought you wanted to cuddle with dada” Sy playfully scoffed settling Ellie down by Y/n, their babygirl wasting no time in cuddling on her mama’s lap, her head resting on her chest, her tiny hands feeling the baby’s kicks; her eyes twinkling watching Sy walk inside with her precious baba.

“got daddy wrapped round your lil finger baby” Y/n smiled nuzzling her head against her baby’s, pressing a big kiss on her cheek as she rocked her gently. “One baba per request” Sy said rocking back into the backyard, shaking the small lukewarm pink bottle in his hand, testing the temperature on his wrist before he handed it back to his little precious petal. “mm baba dada” She said handing it back to him.

Sy smiled picking up the tiny tot and sitting down beside his wife with Ellie laying across his lap as if she was a newborn again. His hands steadily holding the baby bottle to her lips as she suckled softly, her naturally wide eyes peering around the garden at all the different birds before settling on the baby blues of her dad. One of her hands reaching behind her for her momma and the other holding onto Sy’s hand that was holding the bottle.

“Think she’ll go down for a nap soon?” He smirked looking up to his wife, that same playful lustful loon in his eyes whenever his eye caught hers, his head leaning down to kiss and nuzzle against the side of her face like a possessive bear cub. “Oh yeah she’s your daughter Sy honey, fill her belly and she’ll be knocked out soon enough” Y/n swooned, leaning her body towards him as her hand patted down his soft stomach and body.

“See look her pretty lil eyes are already closing, must be the cool breeze helpin cool her down too” Checking her nappy was still clean, after about 15 minutes Y/n had burped and lulled her babygirl to sleep, ultimately leading her to put her down in her crib. Turning on the baby monitor and adjusting the room temperature, Y/n left the room slightly ajar as Sy and her retreated to hanging out in their shared bedroom.

“I ever tell ya how pretty you are? Especially when you’re full n’ round cus a’ me” Sy poses on the bed like a girl, his feet swinging in the air as he lay on his stomach, his hands cupping his face whilst he just stared at his wife. “Yes loverboy, you tell me at least every hour”

“That can’t be right, i’ll make sure to say it every minute then” He joked rolling onto his back, guiding her to sit on his lap, his hands immediately clasping around her body to cage her closer to him. “But seriously you are just gorgeous, jus’ how do you get even more beautiful the more life goes on” Y/n soon found herself feeling hot and bothered the more compliments and kisses she received, not to mention the subtle ass squeezes Sy had managed to squeeze in between his monologues.

“Stop it Sy please” She whined carefully tracing his brow with her thumb, trying to distract herself from looking into his eyes which were desperately trying to catch hers. “What can’t I pay my pretty mama compliments? I’m havin’ to stop myself ‘ere” Growling lightly he slightly jerked his hips up, letting her feel his hardened cock through his grey sweatpants, his torso bare. “Fuck Sy”

“I know baby m’sorry, I can’ help it, anytime I see you, smell you or hear you, the little guy gets excited n’ needs ya” Rubbing up her back soothingly under his shirt she was wearing, he felt her slowly start to shift herself back and forth on his lap, her wetness starting to leak through her thin cotton panties to create a darker stain on his pants. “Oh baby what are ya doin?”

“I need somethin Sy, seein’ ya be such a good daddy to Ellie and how you’re just so fuckin’ sexy it actually kills me” She suddenly broke out into a curse, seeing Sy basically move around the house was like porn for her, seeing him tend to the laundry and housework? She was about to bend him over if she could. Seeing him try his absolute best to lighten her load, even taking his babygirl Ellie out on his walks just so she could have some peace and quiet.

“You gonna use me baby? Get what you need momma, so fuckin’ pretty like this, my perfect angel, got my cock all swollen jus by bein you” He pushed back some of her hair away from her face, her expression furrowed as she quickened her pace knowing it wouldn’t be long before Ellie woke up again. “Y-you make me feel so good” Moving her underwear to the side she let her bare sensitive pussy rub against the fabric of his sweatpants, the head of his cock peeking out of the band as per her request.

“Hold on pretty-“ He gasped pulling down his sweatpants to his thighs, letting them feel each other’s skin as they humped against each other lovingly. Her swollen lips parted to hug around his shaft, covering his length in her slick wet juices, the lewd sounds filling the bedroom along with her whines and whimpers; the both of them being careful to not be so loud. “So soft” He would whisper out as his thumb caressed her sensitive nerve, watching her face contort whilst he stimulated her clit.

“You gonna cum for me pretty girl? Can feel it, come on baby I want it so bad” He whispered against her neck, his lips inching upwards until they reached hers. His tongue slipping into her mouth engaging it in a wet spit filled kiss, keeping her quiet. “M-m gonna come Sy” She whispered urgently feeling that band in her stomach grow tighter, with it eventually snapping once one of Sy’s paws wandered up to tug and rub at her hardened nipples. “Aww baby you did so good, m’ so prouda you pretty, makin’ yourself feel good on your man’s lap” He cooed in between grunts as he tugged at his hardened shaft to squirt ropes of cum onto her pussy.

“You proud of me” Y/n smiled hazily leaning back, massaging his cum into her pussy, her eyes peering at him as he brought her back in for a sloppy make-out session, leaving both their chins shiny with spit. “Fuckin’ best thing ta ever happen to me”

(this fic is not proofread)

———

PSA: Haven’t updated in so long but i’ve honestly just been enjoying my summer🫶Hope you enjoy this Dad!sy fic

library blog: @f10werfaes-cosy-collection

taglist: @pandaxnienke @thereisa8ella @kimhtoo17 @beck07990 @dumb-fawkin-bitch @madebylilly @kebabgirl67 @marvelgurl @uwiuwi @girl-of-multi-fandoms @misshale21 @hallecarey1 @nikkitc0703 @mischiefsemimanaged @oliviah-25 @aerangi @alina02 @alexxavicry @hp-hogwartsexpress @angelmather1 @acornacre @ggmimitf @thebaileybugle @p4st3lst4rs @kzhlvlysstuff @cilliansangel @thoughtsofreid @theekyliepage @cookielovesbook-akie @elenavampire21 @hoya122 @rosiesluv7 @yaminax @esposadomd @meyocoko @disaster-rose @severewobblerlightdragon @kemillyfreitas @adoreyouusugar @sweetybuzz25 (comment to be added!)

#henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill x female reader #henry cavill x wife!reader #henry cavill x pregnant!reader #captain sy x reader #captain sy x wife!reader #captain sy fanfiction #captain syverson #henry cavill one shot #henry cavil x y/n #sy x reader #syverson x reader #syverson fluff #syverson x you

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ellethespaceunicorn · 1 year

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Some Things You Just Can't Refuse

Title: Some Things You Just Can't Refuse

Rating: Explicit, 18+, Minors - DNI

Pairing: Dom!Clark Kent x Sub!Reader

Word Count: 4.7K+

Summary: A collection of first times with Clark Kent, and one last time.

Warnings: dacryphilia, unprotected p-in-v sex (wrap it up babes), creampie, spit kink (for like two seconds), Reader being a brat

A/N: This has been a plot bunny that sat in my Google Docs while all my other works got attention. Did I really just write a 5+1? Unbeta’d, we die like people who tried their best.

Dividers by: @firefly-graphics

Support/Reblog banner by me

Cover Art by me

My Masterlist

Clark Kent was a simple man, for the most part. He had preferences, sure. But he knew what he liked, and went for those things more often than not. One of his preferences was a certain kind of woman.

And you were that kind of woman. His Sunflower.

The perfect combination of submissive and strong-willed. What others may call bratty, Clark would call “a little feisty” and he wouldn’t change it for the world.

And that is where Clark was anything but simple. He was your Dominant, you were his submissive. He loved you, he provided for you, and he kept you safe. He kissed the ground you walked on, he broke you, and he put you back together.

The first time you met Clark Kent was in the break room of the Daily Planet.

You were an intern for the summer, just working to get some credits toward your journalism degree. You weren’t all that interested in going to warzones and reporting on drug lords and shit. You wanted to tell stories about starving artists and activism. You wanted to surprise people with your ability to capture the essence of someone’s emotion and relate it to the reader’s own experiences.

While doing your writing at work, while you were supposed to be doing whatever Lois Lane threw at you this morning, you decided to take a break to recharge. Since energy drinks gave you the jitters, you opted for a warm-ish mug of hours-old coffee.

As you reached up to the cabinet to get a mug, you watched as a hand appears above you to grab the handles of two mugs. You turned, following the hand, to see who reached over you. Eyes blue like the Atlantic Ocean behind a pair of plain black rectangular frames looked back at you. You can’t help but smile at him as he beamed, bright enough to illuminate your entire day.

And your writer’s brain was getting way ahead of itself already. Who the hell was this mountain of a man? I wonder what his lips taste like. Should that tie go with that shirt? Fuck, did he just ask me something?

“I’m sorry, what?” You shook yourself out of your thoughts.

“I asked if you wanted the black or the flower mug. I was gonna offer the flower. But I’d rather not assume you didn’t wanna just take the plain one. So, I’m gonna stop talking and let you answer.”

Fuck, he’s cute when he rambles.

“Sunflowers are my favorite.” He offered the mug and your fingers touch and you’re glad that you are the only two in the break room.

“Clark,” he says, as he poured himself some coffee, “Clark Kent.”

You gave your name and he put out a hand to shake yours. With your hand in his, you notice how it engulfed your own. You thought to yourself about that hand around your throat. Just lightly squeezing the sides of your neck, as a warning.

“Nice to meet you. I hope Lois has been easy on you. She can be a little…much.” He said it in a way that lead you to believe he’s been on the demanding end of Lois more than once.

“Eh, she’s alright. I mean, Ms. Lane is just fine.” You tried to cover your disdain for Lois. In reality, you saw her as a ‘Pick-Me’, but you tried to give her the benefit of the doubt.

“Yeah, sure she is. I dated her, so I know her pretty well. Not that I should be saying anything. But, don’t let her try and get in your head. She’ll use whatever she can to get a scoop, whether in the field or the workplace. She’s a great journalist, but-” You cut him off, not wanting to take part in putting down another woman.

“I think I get the hint. Watch my back around her.” You assure him you understood as you poured your coffee and put in some cream and sugar.

“Yeah, sorry. I shouldn’t talk about her behind her back. That was rude of me. My mother would be disappointed in me for that.” He looked into his mug, and you saw that he was not proud of himself for putting down his ex.

“It’s all good, Clark. I can tell you didn’t mean anything by it. Emotions are tricky, ya know?” You don’t know why you wanted to give him an ‘out’, but you did.

“That, they are. I better get back. See ya around,” He gave a cute little wave and exited the room.

The first time Clark Kent called you Sunflower happened about a month after your first meeting.

The two of you ended up together on a test run for Perry to see how you go about working with other reporters. He probably just wanted to see if I could share a byline.

You could tell that Lois saw a tenacity in you that reminded her of her younger self. While that was great, you wanted to be seen for your ability to get people to talk to you without making them feel like they were in an interview. Just a conversation between people.

When you asked Clark to work on the assignment with you, he jumped at the opportunity. In truth, he wanted the chance to see you at work. He’d listen to Lois talk about how you just saw things differently. Almost like she was jealous, but she would never admit to that.

“So I was thinking we could go to Gotham. Before you say anything, I know it’s dangerous there but we’ll be going during the day. And I finally got the go-ahead from Wayne Enterprises to shadow one of their board members. A Day in the Life kind of piece. What do you think?” You rambled out, arms crossed as you leaned against Clark’s desk.

“I think I can get you an exclusive with Bruce Wayne if you wanted.” He stated nonchalantly.

“I would owe you big time. Wait, how the hell do you know Wayne? What, were you boy scouts together or something?”

“We just end up at a lot of the same places.” Clark offers no other explanation.

“Right,” you nodded at him, not letting it go, “So, I run point on this and you back me up?”

“Sounds perfect. You’ll do great, just know he will try and flirt with you so don’t make it easy for him, Sunflower.” The nickname caused heat to rise to your face, remembering that first time you met him.

“Sure, like the most eligible bachelor in Gotham who can buy whatever he wanted would look at me twice?” You weren’t being down on yourself too much, more like you were being realistic. The man had dated supermodels and heiresses, not chubby junior reporters.

“Without sounding unprofessional, trust me when I say Bruce will look at you more than twice. You say the word and I’ll set him straight.” Was that flirtatious? No way.

“Um, if you say so, Clark,” you tried to laugh it off and walk away but Clark caught your wrist, your eyes locked with his and you felt…something.

“I do say so, Sunflower,” he lowered his hand from around your wrist, “Just prepare to shut him down more than once. He’s, uh, persistent.”

“You trying to save me for yourself, huh?” You couldn’t help yourself. If he denies it, you could say you were joking. If he confirms it, then…

He simply smiled and tilted his head, neither confirming nor denying.

During your interview with Bruce Wayne, you were surprised that he indeed did flirt with you as Clark said he would. You managed to steer the conversation back to Wanye Enterprises each time he would stray to learn more about you. You would give him a detail here and a tidbit there, but you kept it professional. Clark was there to take notes, letting you take the lead. He was impressed by you. You kept Bruce flirting with you to get him to spill details about new things he was working on for Gotham.

The first time you kissed Clark Kent was three months into your internship.

Lois had taken a shine to you, loving what few pieces you were able to get past the intern pool and into an issue. You figured it would be in your best interest to go to her with any journalistic questions you had. You may not like her very much, but she was still a Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist and you would be an idiot not to take a few pointers from her.

There was one thing you didn’t talk to her about, and that was the massive crush you had on her ex. It just seemed too messy, and honestly, you didn’t need her permission to do anything.

That’s why you accepted Clark’s invitation to make you dinner. Frankly, you weren't surprised he asked you. You had been flirting with each other, exchanging glances and smiles across the office. Spending hours a night talking on the phone and texting back and forth naturally lead you here.

Armed with a bottle of wine and all the courage you could muster, you make it to Clark’s apartment just as he is finishing dinner. He answers the door in jeans and a grey long-sleeved henley, looking so comfortable and so different without a tie on. He thanked you for the wine, took your wrist to pull you behind him, and shut the door with a socked foot.

Pouring you both a glass, he congratulated you for completing half of your internship. It completely slipped your mind that you had reached this milestone, but he remembered. And that was saying a lot. You clinked your glasses together and took a sip of the pinot noir.

“This is going to go great with dinner. Thank you again for picking up some. I can’t believe I forgot to,” Clark bantered, setting his wine glass down to check on the pork tenderloin and roasted potatoes.

“You were too busy trying to impress me,” You insisted, smiling when he gives you a stern look.

“Watch it, Sunflower,” is all you hear and you shifted from one foot to the other to hide your search for friction. You barely had two sips of wine in your system before this man had you feeling drunk.

“Time to let the pork rest while the potatoes finish up. Should be done in a bit,” Clark picked up his wine glass, settling his other hand on your lower back to guide you to the island counter. He didn’t expect it when a shiver ran up your spine and caused you to giggle, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like it.

You sat and chatted during dinner like you’ve known each other for ages and it just felt very comfortable. He told you about his mom, growing up in Smallville, and how he came to work at the Daily Planet. You spoke about your schooling and how you’d one day like to write for the Planet and publish a book of short stories. He was stuck on your every word and it made you feel important to have his undivided attention.

After dinner, you retired to the living room to watch some tv. It was more just on as background noise as you conversed with each other. When you both reached for the wine bottle at the same, you both laugh and then look at each other. And it was all you could do not to melt into a puddle as those blue eyes stare longingly at you.

Clark reached up and took off his glasses before tossing them on the coffee table. Fuck. But, he does nothing more. For what seems like minutes, you sat in silence just staring into each other’s eyes until you speak up.

“Clark, please?” You whined, growing more frustrated with every second.

“Use your words. Tell me what you need, Sunflower.” The way he said it had you shifting in your seat.

“I need you to kiss me, please?” You pleaded, the little crack in your voice not missed by Clark.

He cupped your face with one large paw, his touch so soft that you leaned into it to feel his warmth. His thumb moved over to wipe across your lips, followed swiftly by his lips.

Your lips met and you felt the warmth radiating from him. You could taste the sweetness of the wine on his tongue as he begged for entry. You let him in, moaning into his mouth. Clark grunted in return and pulled away to rest your foreheads together.

“I have wanted that for far too long, Sunflower,” Clark groaned, licking his lips.

“Me too,” you whisper, scooting closer to Clark to lace your fingers together, “Can we do it again?”

Instead of answering you, he pulled you into his lap and attacked your mouth with fervor.

The first time you tell Clark Kent you love him is exactly two months after your first kiss.

It was completely by accident, but no less true.

Clark invited you over for dinner and a movie. The two of you were in the middle of watching 10 Things I Hate About You. Patrick was dancing on the bleachers and singing to Kat. The most romantic scene in the movie apart from the poetry scene.

“Ya know, if we went to high school together and you sang ‘Can’t Take My Eyes Off You’ to me in front of the whole school, I would have melted,” you say, stuffing popcorn into your face, “But then, I already love you, so you wouldn’t have to do the whole singing thing.”

Clark’s head whipped around so fast that you can feel the wind coming off of him. “What did you just say, Sunflower?”

You look to Clark and you realized what you had said at the same moment and your eyes went wide. “I think I just confessed love during a ‘90s romcom.”

“Yeah, I think you did,” Clark looked at you with that look in his eyes, “Good thing I love you, too.” He says nonchalantly, trying to not freak you out, and went back to watching the movie.

“Clark, I love you.” You wanted to feel the words on your tongue again.

“I love you too, Sunflower.” Hearing the words come from him was like a cozy embrace that coated the night in warmth.

The first time you had sex with Clark Kent was at the end of your internship.

Clark wanted to wait-

No, he didn’t want to wait, but he chose to wait until your internship was over and you were offered an actual job at the Daily Planet to not seem like he was cruising for tail in the intern pool.

Little did you know, but Clark had it all planned out. Candlelit dinner, romantic music, wine, and chocolates. The whole nine yards. But you didn’t get to experience that version of lovemaking.

At the same time Clark was lighting candles, he heard your heartbeat spike across town. He sped away to your location, without putting on his suit. He flew above the city before he found you being held up at gunpoint in an alleyway and his blood boiled. He watched you comply with your attacker and hand over your purse before flying down behind the man quietly. The man had no idea what hit him when Clark flicked his temple and the assailant falls over unconscious.

He didn’t even think to keep his identity secret anymore. He steps over the man to get to you and check you over for injuries, both external and internal. When he sees nothing, he questions you, “Are you alright, Sunflower?”

You look almost through him because there he is in a sweater and dark-wash jeans, glasses slightly askew. You step back an inch as he reaches out to you. He can see it in your eyes that you are piecing together little moments.

How he got across town in what seemed like seconds. How he never got sick. How it felt like he was always hiding something. This is what he was hiding from you. For your safety? For his?

“There were so many times I wanted to tell you I was Superman, I just didn’t know how. Do you forgive me, Sunflower?” Clark’s pleading ultramarine eyes burned into yours.

“I mean, I guess this is as good a time as any to tell me. I have so many questions. Of which, you will answer all of them, Clark. But, all I need to know right now is how the hell you found me?” Your breathing was starting to speed up again and you tried to calm down but given the circumstances, you were acting pretty normal.

“I kind of, know your heartbeat. I can hear it at all times. Wherever you are, I can hear you,” Clark makes an odd face and then forces out an embarrassed laugh, “Now that I say that out loud, it sounds weird.”

“Yeah, it’s a little weird. But it’s also super romantic, too,” you reach to Clark and pull him to you, “What’s my heart sound like now?”

“Sounds like you’re excited,” he let his hand drag down your body, “Smells like it too. Now, why would that be?”

“I mean, I did just find out my boyfriend is a superhero. That’s sorta hot. Sorta, I mean, he hasn’t taken me flying yet.”

“Brat! How hard is it to ask for what you want?” He picked up your purse from the unconscious attacker and handed it to you. When it is secured around your shoulder, Clark picked you up and you wrap your legs around his hips. “Hold on, Sunflower.” He took off so fast that the world blurred around you.

As he got closer to his apartment, he slowed down and flew a bit higher near the clouds. He rolled over onto his back so that you are straddling him. His hands found each other behind his head as he floated above Metropolis, all attention directed at you. Your eyes wandered around the city as you adjusted your seating which stirred his arousal.

Clark tried to adjust himself under you without you noticing but instead, you took the opportunity to grind your clothed sexes together. The groan that escaped Clark’s mouth is enough to spur you on to continue your ministrations. His eyes are already rolling back in his head and you feel quite proud of yourself. You reached under Clark’s sweater and ran your fingers through his chest hair as you continue to work your hips over him.

“Clark?”

“Yes, Sunflower?” He opened his eyes, pupils were blown wide with lust, breathing becoming unstable.

“Take me to your place so we can get more comfortable?” You flirted with him, wrapping your arms around his neck and shimmying up his body.

“Yes, Ma’am.” He grabbed under your thighs to have you wrap your legs around him once more and began to descend to the balcony of his apartment. He let you inside first but is quickly behind you following you into his bedroom as you start to shed your layers.

You spun around and gave Clark a show of your skin becoming visible in the moonlight. When you are fully undressed, you knelt in front of him with your head down and your hands on your thighs.

He walked over to you and kissed the top of your head. He listened for your heartbeat, and it was steady, if not a little heightened. You were awaiting instruction, as far as he could tell.

“Sunflower, I want you to pick a safe word.” He stood behind you and undressed down to his underwear.

“Unicorn is my safe word.”

“Good girl,” Clark caressed your shoulders and squeezed them, “Are you okay with calling me Sir?”

“Yes, Sir.” Your heart rate evened out, Clark noticed. You’re happy. He beamed down at you.

“Good girl, now turn around and take out Sir’s dick.”

You turned around and reach up to Clark’s boxer briefs, cupping him over the fabric before hooking your fingers into the waistband and pulling the underwear down and off. His length sprung up to bounce in front of your face and you lick your lips in anticipation but don’t go any further without direction.

“Such a good girl, Sunflower,” he grabbed your chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting your face up to meet his eyes, “Come lay down so Sir can taste you. I can already smell how wet you are.”

You took his hands as he helped you up. Clark pulled you close to his body, your back against his chest. He attacked your neck, nipping and sucking marks that would show in the morning. His length on your hip has you testing your limits.

As if reading your mind, Clark reached down and cupped your netherlips. You instinctively clamped your thighs around his hand and he used a foot to kick your legs apart. With one hand exploring your cunt, the other slides around your throat as a warning.

“Don’t ever block me from my pussy, Sunflower. This belongs to Sir now, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, Sir, it belongs to you.” You were sure Clark could feel you clench around nothing and you didn’t care. You wanted him to know he was doing everything right.

“Good girl,” He dipped a finger into your wetness and pulled it back out to wipe across your bottom lip, “We’re both gonna taste your sweet honey.” He used the hand around your throat to turn you around so he could claim your lips.

You tasted yourself as his tongue invaded you, whimpering into his mouth. His answering groans had you trembling. He walked you backward until your legs hit the edge and he pushed you down. Leaning over, he knelt and pushed your thighs back as far as they would go, marveling at your glistening slit.

With the flat of his tongue, he licked from your entrance to your neglected nub, pausing to suck on it lightly. He ate with the hunger of a man starved. He steeled his tongue, probing your core and tasting you from within. He made out with your pussy, pulling back to spit on it which drew moans from you and had you squeezing your breasts in response.

Clark was good at this, not that you were surprised because of how good of a kisser he was, but fuck! The way he fingered your pussy, making sure to curve his fingers to hit that sensitive bundle of nerves inside was heavenly.

When he sped up his fingers and pushed down on your lower stomach, you gasped and realized he understood the assignment. He was rewarded with you squirting over his hands and chest.

“Such a good girl for me, Sunflower,” he said, before sucking your juices off of his fingers and moving your limp body up the bed, “Now, you’re going to be an extra good girl and take Sir’s dick.”

That was all the warning you received before Clark was pushing in, stretching you wide over his thick hardness. With every inch, he would pull out and press in an inch more than the last thrust. He made sure to stretch you slowly, keeping your tightness while allowing you to get used to his girth.

“That’s right, Sunflower, open those sweet petals for Sir,” Clark soothes your whines as he fucks into you, “I promise I’ll make it all better when you let me all…the way…in.” He punctuated his words with jolts from his hips.

When he is finally seated inside you, he pauses. The sudden stop has you reaching for Clark and moving your hips to gain friction.

“Look at you trying to fuck yourself on my cock,” he leaned over you and watched as tears flow from your eyes, “These tears are gorgeous, but use your words. Tell me what you want.”

“Sir, please,” you whined, looking into his eyes, “Need you to fuck me, please.”

The smile on Clark’s face is brilliant, he’s got you right where he wants you. He kissed your face, stopping to wipe away your tears with his tongue. Pulling back, he secured your legs around his hips before he leaned down to wrap one hand around both of your wrists, holding them above your head.

When Clark fucked you, he paid attention to every aspect of your body. He looked into your eyes. He kissed and nipped at your neck. He pinched and teased your nipples. He rubbed your clit while he pounded inside you.

Clark just did it better than any of your partners before. Maybe because you allowed yourself to be vulnerable around him? Or maybe because he was just…better. It didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was that you were with him and he was inside you and you were all his.

You lost track of how many times you came, but Clark remembers every time. He committed them to memory, seeing you arch your back and feeling your walls flutter around him. He could tell by the sheen of sweat on your body and the way your body is vibrating that you were beyond spent. Possibly even a bit overstimulated. Perfect.

“You ready for my cum, Sunflower?” He licked his thumb and pressed on your clit as you keen, “Do you think you can hold on for me for just a bit longer?”

“Yes, Sir,” you moan as he slid his hands to your hips.

“There’s my good girl,” he groaned and began his assault on your pussy. At this angle, he can stimulate both your hooded center and your G-spot. A punishing pace that set you ablaze. While you held onto his biceps, you looked into his eyes. Where there used to be blue irises, only dark pupils remained. His curly hair was a sweaty mess on his forehead. He was barely a man now, more like an animal rutting into you.

Before long, his hips stutter in their onslaught. Breathing erratically, he squeezed your hips so hard you knew there would be bruises tomorrow. He moved to kiss your neck and latched onto your shoulder with his teeth as you feel every twitch of him releasing inside you. You know there will be bite marks in your shoulder for days but you don’t care.

Clark’s teeth left you, followed closely by his tongue soothing your almost-broken skin. Sometimes, he didn’t know his strength. And it was a close one this time. He was still inside you semi-hard before he decided to pull out slowly causing you to whine at the sudden feeling of emptiness.

He moved from the bed for a moment. You closed your eyes for a millisecond before you feel warm wetness between your legs.

“Just cleaning you up, Sunflower,” He wipes your delicate folds softly and throws the towel in the clothes hamper before crawling in bed beside you, “You go right to sleep, you deserve it.”

The last time you refer to yourself as Clark’s girlfriend is a year and a half into your relationship.

Clark proposes to you over dinner in the house you bought together. He bought the ring after you talked about marriage just two weeks ago. Well, technically, Bruce helped him buy the ring. As in, Bruce bought the jewelers store and had them design the perfect ring for you.

A smoky quartz center with marquise and pear-shaped citrine petals around it. You had mentioned more than once that you didn’t want a diamond engagement ring, you wanted something that matched your style.

Clark presented the ring to you on one knee, ever the traditionalist. You said yes, of course.

This man was your life, your hope, and your future. You looked forward to every minute of every hour of every day with him.

He is your light in the darkness, and you are his Sunflower.

A/N: Yes, the title is from "Sunflower" by Post Malone/Swae Lee. Yes, the song was for a Spider-Man movie. So, what? It's a good song.

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dungeonpuppykai · 30 days

Text

|| Liability ||

Summary: When you nearly compromise The Organization on a job because of your impulsiveness, your boss August Walker decides it's time for a demotion; since you clearly still have much training ahead of you.

Disclaimer: I sadly do not own August Walker or any of the other Henry Cavill characters mentioned. This is a mature and morally gray story so browse at your own discretion. Minors do not interact.

Pairing: Mafia Boss!August Walker | Hench(wo)man!You.

Warning(s): D/s dynamics, m!dom, f!sub, the relationship is probably morally gray, slapping, throat fucking, power imbalance, pet names, hair pulling, deep throating, gun play, smut with plot (I am sorry I just couldn't stop), humiliation, degradation, camera play.

Note: Oh, my God! It's finally here, first Auggie fic go boom~

MASTERLIST

✟

"You're out, do not call again." You sighed into the phone and momentarily shut your eyes in frustration as you kept an eye out through the window of the dingy motel that you crouched next to, trying to stay one with the darkness of the room.

"Boss…" It had taken you risking your life to buy a new sim card just to get him to pick up your call. "Come on, the whole thing would have gone south–"

"You have been told more times than can be counted to not take matters into your own hands" your form stiffened when you noticed a man from a rival gang casually stroll by the motel as he pretended to be a passerby. Fuck. As your eyes scanned the area you realized that you were slowly getting surrounded. "If anything goes against the plans it is protocol for the team to regroup and–"

"Boss… The Angels…" Had it not been August on the line, you would have masked the panic in your voice with not much effort or hesitation. "T- They're here…" There was a brief silence.

And then;

"That's your problem now, Y/n" your throat tightened when he did not use your gang alias. "I told you" there was shuffling on his side. Sweat broke out on your skin. That meant he was done with the conversation. "You're out."

The line went dead.

Your tongue felt swollen as you glanced at the briefcase you had put everything on the line for.

Just to lose anyways.

Yes, alright. Maybe you had ignored Marshall's order to abort the mission and fought off Shaw because Kent had been incompetent enough to mess up hacking the target car's engine in time. And yes, maybe you had risked exposure by following the vehicle. But the fact of the matter was, no one had died and the asset was recovered all the same. The mask that you wore on missions had ensured the protection of your identity and though anyone from your line of work could tell it was Walker's notorious Wraith, no identifiable features meant no evidence.

But no.

How could things ever end that easily?

Solo being the asshole that he was just had to rat about the entire ordeal to Walker.

Okay sure, maybe you had to shake off cops because one of the men inside the car had noticed you following them. And maybe you had had to wait for the streets to cool off for the rest of the day but that did not mean you had betrayed them by running away with the asset or something!

Even if you had gotten caught -which you never did; hence your alias-, your boss should have known that you would sooner die tortured in a shithole slammer cell than rat.

You bit your tongue as you tossed the phone on the table after breaking the sim card, watching the inevitable unfold before you with vigilant eyes that stung from the moisture accumulating behind them as you readied what little weapons that you had on hand.

The growing tightness in your throat was tugging at the back of your oral muscle and your jaw was aching from the strength it took you not to cave into emotion. But you held your nose high and snorted at the rivals– enemies before rolling your moist eyes at them. You could not help but critique them even then because if they were trying to blend in, they were frankly doing a shit job.

"Of course" you snickered as you got up and went to stash the briefcase in the best spot you could find.

The Diablos had teamed up with The Angels and the irony of that was not lost on you.

So it took the State's top two gangs -that were arch rivals under usual circumstances- to bring The Wraith down, huh?

Being young and impulsive as you were, you had pissed all the wrong people off under August's wing. You had earned it through your knack for casual brutality which was so devastating and sickening in nature that it seemed something innate for you.

But now that the affiliation was gone, it seemed everyone wanted a piece of the once mighty Wraith.

You burst into a cold chuckle again.

All these men just to try to take down one girl, huh?

Crouching behind the bed with your gun aimed at the door after you had successfully hidden the cause of your demise in the most secure spot you could find -not wanting your foes to succeed even now-, you sucked in an icy breath and braced yourself for what was coming. "Here goes" you whispered to yourself as you pushed your airpods in your ears and blasted your music through them probably one last time.

For if these were the last minutes of your life, you wanted to go out guns blazing with your favorite tunes blocking the ugly out.

That, and the emotions that were trying to dominate your mind and crawl down your eyes in your body's attempt to deal with the overwhelming sentiments surging through your body like electricity.

No.

August Walker's Wraith didn't do emotions–

Wait.

Fuck.

You bit your tongue as you cussed at yourself. You did not belong to anyone.

Especially not an asshole who had the audacity to doubt your intentions even after you had submitted to him everything you had had to offer.

Service, body, mind, soul… heart.

Your true drive behind striving to always get the job done was only to please him. It had been for a long time at this point. And so yes, you sometimes resorted to undesirable, disobedient means to achieve the goal but it was all only to make him happy.

Richer.

Contrary to the popular belief which had been spread around The Organization by Solo, you did not do it to move up the hierarchy. At least, not anymore. Sure, ambition had been your initial motivation before everything but nothing in the world mattered except for Master anymore.

… The same Master that had abandoned you when you needed him most.

A humorless snicker escaped you at the thought and you couldn't help but shake your head. At the end, you were just like all those foolish girls that had come before you in different shapes and forms, belonging to different times and contexts; discarded cold and teary eyed at a crossroads for anyone willing in the end.

You had gotten lost in your thoughts, eyes focused on the door but peripherals ignorant to your surroundings; the flashes bouncing off the windows and the smoke of dust and gas permeating the air outside.

You lost track of the minutes and songs that passed in mere fleeting moments to you as you forced yourself to recall basically everything despite the agony that you felt. You deserved the torture. A reflection on your entire life and how futile it had turned out to be in the end was important. It was only fair.

A man had been your undoing, this sentence wasn't enough. But it was all you knew in the moment.

You were so completely focused on denying yourself any tears that you failed to take notice of a member of The Angels slamming into the glass of one of the windows as he was obliterated with some 7mm bullets.

It was only when the door shook by getting kicked that your heart and body jumped alike; pulling you back to the present, your heart strings tugging. Your hand tightened around your weapon. This is it. Clenching your jaw tight, you stabilized your breathing and waited for the enemy to kick the door in. The thought of just how pathetically you were cornered made you snicker as you shook your head.

Only, when the door swung free and you went to press the trigger did your chuckle die in your throat.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Your heart weighed down in your chest until it was too much for your chest to hold and it let the organ fall into your stomach.

Your breaths tightened.

The strength from your lungs drained.

Your fingers yanked the melodies away from your ears faster than you could register.

Almost as though your body was suddenly on autopilot.

"B- Boss…?"

The silhouette of a seething August blocked the doorway, his broad shoulders rising and falling with each pant of his breaths as his lungs churned. When his fingers roughly clawed at the switchboard to turn the lights on, his dark, glossy eyes came into your view before the rest of him did.

The man was covered in blood as his pistol that held a metallic hue glinted in one of his hands. If you didn't know any better you would have said it seemed as though brief relief washed over his otherwise furious face when his bulging eyes finally located you in the room. Though his face instantly hardened of any emotion the moment it happened. His jaw clenched tighter as his eyebrows drew apart from each other, the cold blue of his eyes that were livid with chaos somewhat calming down while you gaped at him in shock.

The Boss never came down to the field himself.

You had heard it had been a long time since he had last done it.

… All you had asked was for some backup.

What were you to make of this?

How–

"Kneel" oh.

But Master could.

And he had.

A ghost of a smile played on your lips as you rose and walked over to the middle of the room quicker than you could think, eyes wide and glassy. Your weapon slipped through your fingers the same time as when you collapsed on your knees in front of him; awaiting his next command with all the self-respect and ego you had conjured up in the last few minutes long forgotten.

Nothing else mattered anymore.

For Master was here.

There was no need for you to think anymore.

All that needed to be done now was to sit back and obey without question.

August calmly walked over to you and stopped when he was towering over you, letting out an intentionally exaggerated sigh as he propped the tip of his weapon under your chin. "Liability" he had called you that the day Gus -your mentor and guardian figure in the whole organization- had finally presented you to him; The Boss, after months of trials.

Your bottom lip wobbled with all that was cycloning through your head but you dared not speak.

He had a way of making you feel so small and vulnerable it melted away your resolve every time.

"Impulsive" the back of August's free hand that was covered in splatters of blood struck across your face and your head lolled to the side. "Stubborn" now your other cheek was caught in his fingers and you let your face swing free in the direction of the slap. Master was the only man who could treat you that way and you were nothing to deny him of his wishes.

The barrel of his gun brought your chin back to the center again. "Headstrong" as another strike caused your face to sway in the same humiliating way, the knowledge that were he some other man you would have torn your revenge for treating you like this out of him sent tremors down your abdomen.

You could but you wouldn't.

Because it was August; the sole proprietor of your entire existence.

The tip of his Sig Sauer brought you back in idle position again. "Non-compliant" as you received another harsh strike, you bit back your rising ire for though you submitted to him wholeheartedly, getting pushed around had never been your forte.

But Master can do whatever he wants, you're his for treating however he desires.

He was worthy of being worshiped.

Maybe he was the only man who deserved such service.

And perhaps that was the reason why your hips clenched as hard as they did each time he treated you like you were nothing but part of the dirt under his shoe.

Like right now.

August centered you again and your insides threatened to boil over when you noticed that the broken door was open wide as it swayed with the gentle breeze of the night, the gap helping the guys to a perfect view of the inside of the room.

You.

And Master.

Whilst Syverson and Phillips had the decency -the latter probably only because you were a daughter figure to him- to look away, Solo, Shaw and Kent watched on shamelessly as they stood clutching their rifles, ready to shoot down any potential threat.

"Disobedient" as your head lolled aside again, you felt your cheek sting just a bit harder than the other one due to the way your teeth dug in it, the gazes from outside only making it all the more worse.

Your eyes traveled back to Master's darker, much stern ones. Fuck. You felt hot slick pool in your underwear. "Amateur" a whimper escaped you as the realization that the others could see you so vulnerable and submissive pricked the skin of your ears. "Overconfident" besides, this very personal dynamic you shared with your boss was private and none of your colleagues knew about it. So either August was ignorant of the door or he was so serious about whatever he was about to do to you, he didn't care.

Although, since the man had an extremely vigilant nature, you doubted the former was the case.

Which only left you with the latter conclusion…

This time around, your face was recentered -you were never to do that yourself unless ordered to do so- not with the Sauer but with a harsh grip on your hair. "Seems to me you were not trained well enough to know your place, little girl" he had bent down to put his face in close proximity to yours, pulling you up by the grip he had on your head to meet him halfway.

Your lips fell agape as your knees burned, shaking just a little as you tried to triumph the induced Parkinson's. It was not easy to make the Wraith tremble. But championing impossibilities had always been August Walker's specialty. "Y- Yes, Master…" Cold, shaky breaths left you as you trembled under his glare. Your loins ignited to life and you couldn't help but subconsciously rock your hips against empty air. "P- Please t- teach me, Master…" You risked speaking out of turn, determined to win him back no matter what for you no longer remembered how it was like to function without him.

Without the sense of sanity and balance his commands created for you.

And you were not willing to relearn it.

Ever.

"Hm" August mused with obvious sarcasm. "Or," he let go of your hair and stood back up to his full height, raising the gun before pressing the cold, bloody tip to your forehead, "I could save us all a whole lot of time and just put you out of everyone's misery." His thumb moved to click the safety off, the sound flipping your stomach in the most vile of ways, none of which were concern for your wellbeing.

"Whatever you deem fit, Master" keeping your eyes trained on him, you went on a limb and slowly moved to crane your head backwards and let the barrel crown trail between your eyebrows and down your nose. "Thank you, Master" the silent yet bright rage in his cold blue orbs caused for a shiver to run down your spine.

Suddenly, the certainty that you were now sure to survive the night that had kindled after his arrival was extinguished just like that.

And yet, you parted your lips when the beginning of the barrel reached your mouth, sheathing it in your oral cavity and between your cheeks, the length causing them to hollow as you looked up at him. The metallic taste of the blood spatters that the Sauer was covered in caused your taste buds to sting as it further invaded your balmy cavern and the apex scratched against your throat. You tried not to cough, breathing through the nose as your hips helplessly rocked again with a mind of their own, the discomfort in the back of your mouth bringing tears to your eyes.

You were too far gone for this man.

And there was no rationalizing or denying it.

"Now that's more like the pet I raised" your pussy clenched and you whined softly, wanting nothing more for the still seething man to take you against every surface available in the most depraved of ways. Each one that you were familiar with. "Remembering your place already, aren't you?" His now eased up breathing slowly started to clamber again as he reached for his fly with his free hand, pistoning the weapon in and out of your mouth to demonstrate how his cock was about to defile your mouth. Though you were to never move a single muscle out of turn, you could not help but bob your head along the Sauer in a horizontal fashion while your holes clenched again.

You had come too close today.

It could never happen again… if your boss would even allow there to be another time, that was.

But for now, there were amends that needed making.

"Now then, what do we say?" August nearly slithered as he pulled the Sauer out of your mouth but didn't holster it, instead letting it dangle by one hand whilst the other tangled in your hair to pull you closer to his cock.

"Want you in me, Master…" You resisted the urge to just open your mouth and move up on it.

You had angered him enough for a while.

"Want me?" You cowered at his faux amusement that came out as a growl due to how enraged he was.

"N- No…"

"No?" You gulped to yourself before trying again.

"No–" you shook your head in panic, raking your mind to come up with an appropriate response. "I- I mean… N- Need you, Master…" Yes, that was certainly better. "Please…" Your bottom lip quivered as your words wavered with a pleading wanton in them. "N- Need you."

"And where do you need me?" The lack of contempt in his manner indicated that you were on the right track. Or at least somewhere near it.

"M- Mouth, M- Master…" Your nails dug into your thighs as you tried your best to hold back from touching him.

Disobedient girls didn't deserve to touch their Masters.

"And why do you need me in your mouth?" He let go of your hair to pump his monstrous girth a couple times as he stroked your cheek with the barrel of the Sauer.

"T- To fuck my face, Master." You answered honestly, completely ignorant of how shocked Kent was at what was unfolding.

Usually you were much more vigilant than this single minded mess you had become, but this was just the effect August had on you.

"Is that right?" A twisted smirk made its way on his face. "And why do you need me to do such a humiliating thing to you, little girl?" You hadn't realized that your heart was thumping until its erratic beating began to put strain on your chest.

"To be reminded of my place, Master." That seemed to finally create at least a semblance of satisfaction and your Master allowed you the tip of his cock at last.

"And where is your place?" He waited patiently even though his body was clearly having a hard time holding back now that your warm lips circled his leaking tip.

"Under you" you spoke through a mouthful of dick. "On my knees" you tried to kiss it to show your devotion but the puckering of your lips caused a loud suckling sound. His features twitched. "At your service, always" something else, a hungry dark, now mixed in with the bright lividness of his cold blue eyes and he grunted before pulling you closer by your hair, trailing the gun all the way down to your chest now.

"That's right" he let go of your hair to slap your cheek before resuming his hold on the strands, grunting at the way his cock felt the vibration of his own palm from when he had struck you. "And you better remember that the next time you want to break protocol" your eyes widened in realization and hope flashed in your eyes.

A chance.

You tried to respond but his cock was too far into your mouth for you to be able to let out a coherent answer. Ao you chose to hum and unintentionally sent waves of pleasure all the way down to his balls. Well, all's well that ends well, right? You began to bob your head up and down with a newfound optimism, peeking up at his humongous form with pure adoration in your eyes.

August cursed under his breath at the sight of you so submissive and comfortable in your humility. The sheer love and devotion in your eyes as your warm cavity clung to his cock, the mass of your lashes fluttering each time your face slid all the way down his length and the way his tip brushed your gag reflex with each movement, the stubble on his crotch tickling your nose as you did, it was all too much for him to handle with civility.

"Use your hands" so he finally allowed you what you had been craving for. You felt your pussy throb when his thick veins twitched against your grainy tongue. "Go ahead, show me what you are good for" his voice was gravelly as the Sauer slipped into the neckline of your shirt and he let you feel the cold metal against your skin.

You gladly complied, moaning at the feeling of the weapon against you, hoisting yourself further upwards on your heels as you reached for his balls with one hand and palmed them generously. Your head rotated each time you moved in on his cock, other hand working fast to pump him each time you pulled back until you were only sucking on his tip.

"Look at you" August hooked one foot against your knee and pushed it apart to create more distance between your legs. "Maybe you should retire as solely my toy for the rest of your days, huh?" Leaving the weapon hanging from your shirt and tucked tightly in your bra, the older man clicked the safety on before clasping his fist around your throat. "You're much better at it than the job, anyway" the corners of your shoulders jutted upwards when his cock finally breached your swallow tract and tears fell from your eyes at last in thick drops at last.

Glancing up at August with your bloodshot eyes, you darted your tongue out to trace as much the circumference of his ballsack as you possibly could. He cursed heavily. "Just like that… good girl" the back of your throat was warm and even more inviting, enveloping him in such a way that an imprint of his cock appeared on your delicate skin, the ridges grazing against August's palm that pressed against it.

Your head was now dizzy due to the lack of air but you did not care as you unplugged your mouth just enough to wheeze in as much air as you possibly could, releasing a fat wad of hot spit down the intimidating length of his cock that you pumped messily with your hand. There was a dull ache in your scalp because of the taut grip that he had on your hair. Your lungs burned. Your ears were on the verge of melting along your brain. Your jaw ticked due to his size. Your throat stretched each time he violated its inner cavity. Your pussy throbbed for attention and your abdomen pulsated painfully.

But none of it mattered.

So long as you got to satisfy your Master, everything was bearable.

"Fucking hell" August groused as he stilled your head in one place to reach as low as he could possibly go down the back of your oral cavity, pistoning short-paced thrusts up and down the space to fuck his orgasm out. Your trembling hands gripped his knees as you felt a strain in your jaw due to how his sack was widening it, obediently licking and sucking at his balls to the best of your ability.

Somewhere amidst the thrusting and swallowing, your windpipe catched a drop and you coughed, further intensifying the man's pleasure as the turbulence caused a mix of your spit and his cum to spray out of your nose before it trailed down to your lips.

August fished his phone out of his jacket and quickly snapped a shot of your state.

Hair disheveled, mouth full of cock, red eyes full of tears that stained your flush cheeks, thick strings of drool and his seed dripping down your chin.

"Make yourself look pretty for me" he nodded at you with a brief glance to his cock and where it connected with you.

The camera was still trained at you when you obediently pulled him out with a gag and cough while pumping the rest of his cum out and onto your face. The flash of the lenses nearly blinded you as you looked up in the video that he was recording now, your tongue and swollen lips glistening as you painted yourself pearlescent.

"Now, what do we say?" August panted once you were done.

"Thank you so much f- for giving me a chance a- and fucking my face, Master" your voice was hoarse and a near whisper as you forced it out through your worked out mouth, licking your lips to collect as much of him as possible.

"That's fucking right" he ended the video by squeezing your cheeks in his grip until your cum covered features scrunched in the most humiliating way before he landed a last slap to your cheek.

August fixed himself up professionally like he didn't just fuck your throat into oblivion and you submissively waited on your knees, awaiting his next command. After he was satisfied with his appearance, the man wiped his hands on your jacket before he took his gun out from between your boobs and holstered it.

"Up" raising one of his hands above his head, he snapped his fingers and allowed you the privilege of leaning on one of his arms as you scrambled up to your feet.

A very stunned Shaw was by his side within the next second, his ears a deep, almost embarrassed red. "Retrieve the asset" the younger male awkwardly looked at your obscene state as you wordlessly nodded in the direction of the briefcase stash. "Now," August's fingers snaked around your hair again as he glanced down at you, "let's get my estranged Wraith home" your head lolled in his direction as he began to walk towards one of the many sleek black SUVs parked outside.

"You have been demoted" he informed you once you had both settled in the backseat of one of the vehicles. August thrusted his phone in your hand. It displayed the picture that he had taken just a few minutes ago. "We will begin right from the start; the basement" your heart dropped. Oh, fuck. You had only been down there once and it was not a place where August was pleasant in any sense. And your sadistic lover was never much agreeable in the affectionate sense anyways. You definitely still had a lot to atone for. "Keep looking at this picture. I don't want your eyes off it for a second" the menace in his tone made you gulp as the humiliating picture burnt its way into your eyesockets.

A few seconds passed before you felt August's hands slip around your ass but you dared not look up to express your wonder. "Now… about that weeping little pussy of yours…" Honestly, it was hard not to notice. The stain you had made for yourself was too dark and wide for anyone to miss.

✟

Thots and reblogs are much appreciated <3

Tags <3: @kittymiaow @enchantedbytomandhenry @thearcana-moonlight @lainiespicewrites @diannana @juliaorpll78 @slut-for-henry-cavill @chocolatecherryblossomsweets @sonnenbroesel @lovenewfandoms @secretdream2

#august walker #august walker smut #august walker fanfiction #august walker x reader #august walker x you #august walker fic #august walker imagine #august walker x y/n #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill characters #henry cavill smut #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill fic #henry cavill superman

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princessaxoxo · 6 months

Text

Hopelessly Devoted

Charles Brandon

Forbidden Love

Summary: Falling for Charles surprised you. The only problem? You are forbidden.

Warnings: 18+ Only, NSFW, fluff, unprotected sex (p in v), fingering, oral (f recieving)

Word count: 1.7K+

A couple of months earlier.

As your mother adjusted your corset, you let out a loud "Ow!" You saw her roll her eyes in the mirror. She believed that your complaints were excessive. "Stop being whiny." You scoffed at her comment. "No man likes that," she said to you. "There will be eligible men at the ball tonight; you won't complain; you'll just smile and dance with every man who asks. Is that clear to you?" Now it was your chance to sneer. You remarked cynically, "I can't wait.”

The layering of your dress began. Each one heavier than the last.

After you were done, you looked in the mirror at yourself. You did look stunning; the color and sequins of your dress complemented your skin tone well. Your hair fell in two halves, one flowing down your back and the other over your shoulder in divided waves.

Your mother sharply remarked, "We need to start on our way." She then approached you and took an overall glance at you. With pride, she said, "You'll find a suitor tonight." Your mother describes you as 'young and ready to be bred;' her only concern was finding you a spouse. You offered her a fraudulent smile and hoped no man would pay you any attention tonight.

Charles kept a watchful eye on every woman present in the room. He was more drawn to some ladies than others, whom he was just interested in having sex with. but none for matrimony. Until you entered his field of vision, that is. "Did you notice someone?" Charles heard Henry's question. Yes, without a doubt, was the response. He noticed your phony smile that you offer everyone in the room and how bored you appear to be when no one is looking.

“Who may she be?” Charles nodded towards you.

“That is Y/n Howard. Her father is Thomas Howard, Duke of Norfolk. We've spoken before; she comes across as a little pretentious.” Henry commented. That didn’t interest Charles; the only thing at the moment that interested him was meeting you. He said his farewell to Henry for the time being and made his way in your direction.

Your face was turned to the side when your mother whispered in your ear. “Be polite, Charles Brandon. The 1st Duke of Suffolk is approaching.” Breathing deeply, you forced yourself to smile as widely as possible once more. He was standing before your parents when you turned to face him.

His voice went unnoticed by you as you took him in. His hair, which lay on top of his head, was a chocolate color and was slicked back. With tiny waves begging to break free. Even though he was talking to your parents, his blue eyes were gazing at each and every inch of you.

Your eyes, which dared go further south, had a mind of their own.

For such a formal occasion, he wore black. Your eyebrows creased in confusion at that—such a depressing color, you thought to yourself.

You snapped out of your reverie as you felt your mother tug on you. Charles held out his hand to accept it. He met your hand with a kiss and remarked, "Lady y/n, it's a pleasure to meet you." A blush appeared on your face naturally. In your stomach, butterflies were circling. The way he made you feel with just his greeting was childlike.

The first man you wanted to talk to that day was Charles, but your father forbade it from happening. You weren't sure what was said, but you were upset as you watched your father and Charles leave together.

"Charles is not the man for you," your father told you as soon as he returned. “Understand that I won't let you see him." Although on the exterior you agreed with your father, you stared past him and met Charles' gaze, his eyes telling you what he couldn’t say out loud.

You two would see each other regardless.

Present Day

When you walked alone in the castle hall, Charles passed you. Your hands and his brushed against one another.

He stopped and looked around, making sure no one was around before he grabbed you and kissed you. Charles took you by surprise. When he released your lips, you laughed, and he hummed in satisfaction. “Hey, baby.”

"Hey, you." Anxiety crept in as you turned to glance around. He turned your face and tilted your chin up to look at him. He comforted you, saying, "I already checked that no one is near." That calmed you.

"Will you be stopping by this evening?" you asked. "Obviously, keep in mind that I'll knock three times." You grinned eagerly, anticipating the evening ahead.

“Now quickly give me a big kiss."

You pulled him close by putting your arms around his neck. His tongue skimmed over your lips. His tongue swirled with yours as you parted lips.

His lips were incredibly soft and full, and the kisses he gave were sweet as ever. "Gosh, you gave me something extra to look forward to tonight," he remarked, pulling himself away. Charles leaned in close to you. "I love you, and I'll see you tonight."

As soon as you heard the three knocks on your door, you sprang out of bed.

Charles smiled as he said, “I’m here, baby,” and crept into your chambers.

Taking off one article of clothing at a time, Charles began to feel more comfortable.

You were dressed in your nightgown as your long, wavy hair flowed down your back. The candles that lit your chamber appeared to heat up even more when he touched your skin. You stroked your fingertips over Charles's chest when he pulled you in for a kiss, and his chest hair easily slid between your fingers.

“You look absolutely beautiful.” Charles said this to you in awe.

His touch was gentle as he undid the tie that was in the middle of your nightgown and brought down the sleeves. Your nightgown fell to the floor, exposing your body to him. He looked at you with admiration.

Hugging you tightly, his muscular arms reached down, grasped your thighs with his large hands, and lifted you up. Charles brought you both to your bed, and once you were settled there, he started giving you gentle kisses down your throat.

His tongue swirled around your nipples, nibbling, sucking, and licking relentlessly. Your head was thrown back in pleasure while your hands were in his hair, roaming. One of his hands skimmed down your body. You felt it as two of his fingers slid through your folds. He removed his mouth from your nipples and looked to see how wet you were.

“Shit, love.” He looked at how your natural juices glowed from the candles. He brought his fingers up to his mouth and sucked them. “You’re so delicious, honey."

He returned his fingers to their previous place, getting them coaxed before entering two of his digits inside your cunt. “Oh,” you mewled out. He dragged his fingers agonizingly slowly in and out of you.

“Charles, faster, please," you begged him. His devious grin showed, and he picked up his pace. “Mhmm, yes. Just like that."

He saw how your expressions changed as you approached your orgasm. Charles sensed that you were about to arrive as your walls constricted around his fingertips. "My good girl, coming all over my fingers."

"Love, turn around on your stomach."

He grasped your hips to raise your ass when you were flipped over. With a bending posture, he murmured in your ear. "Keep your eyes on the mirror." He gestured to the mirror in your room's corner. "Watch as I fuck you, how I make love to your pussy."

Charles grasped his cock and slid it through your folds before he entered you, his cock stretching you. He leaned forward again and grabbed your chin to turn your head. “Look at the mirror.” His tone became more serious.

He accelerated his movements while his strong hands gripped your hips. There was a slapping sound as his testicles and hips snapped against your flesh. You sighed, "Oh my god, baby..." Your hair started to fall in front of your face and became untidy. Your neck retracted as Charles pulled on your long hair around his wrist.

His concentration was evident on his face. You could see the perspiration that had accumulated on his body thanks to the candles that lit your chamber. He put his hand up in the air and smacked your cheek hard. "Ah!" You gave voice to a shriek that became a moan.

Charles could spend all of eternity watching himself enter and exit your pussy. That hardened him even more. He constantly thought about how much he loved you and that having your pussy was a plus. The only one that actually molded well with him was yours. He thought yours was made specifically for him.

He grunted between gritted teeth, "You feel so fucking good. Taking all of me." A deep groan escaped Charles's lips.

By accident, you closed your eyes because Charles was fucking you so hard. the delight possessing your body. When you opened them up again, Charles was staring at you with a lustful expression. "Baby, you look so hot," you meekly said to him. "Fucking me so so good."

His hand sneakily reached around your body and began to rub small circles on your clit. Your mouth dropped open. “Oh god.” Your fists gripped your sheets. You began to repeat ‘I love you’ at him as you felt yourself coming on his cock.

He started to shake his head. Pulling away from you, I said, "Fuck, I need to taste you." He lowered himself to his knees and started licking your come. Before he stood back up and thrust his way back into your pussy, he sucked and licked at your pussy as if you were his last meal, and he was a starving man.

Charles could feel his orgasm building. Your skin is pricked by his fingernails. As his seed filled you, he growled loudly, "Fuck." Before taking his cock out of you and letting go of your hair, he gave you a couple more slow thrusts. Afterward, he kissed your shoulder.

He stretched out on your bed and welcomed you in. You lay close to him, and he kissed your forehead and said, "Marry me.”

Taglist: @identity2212 @chloe92 @juliaorpll78 @nighttimestan @kingliam2019

#henry cavill #first post #henry cavill smut #smutty #henry cavill x reader #fluff #henry cavill fanfic #charles brandon the tudors #charles brandon #henry cavill characters #henry cavill fanfiction #charles brandon romance #charles brandon x you #charles brandon x reader #charles brandon fanfiction #charles brandon forbidden love #the tudors #1st duke of suffolk

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imyourbratzdoll · 11 months

Note

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.

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ultralightpoe · 6 months

Text

Spellbound Part 2 - Geralt of Rivia

Authors Note: Sorry it took so long, I just really had no clue how to do the first part justice

Word Count: 3,876

Warnings: reader is a brothel worker

Description:Part two to the first. FIRST PART HERE

Enjoy!

There were many times in Geralt's life where he felt an undeniable rage, and there were many times that he let that rage affect him until he was forced to suffer the consequences of all his actions. He had learned over the years that there were ways of handling his rage, there were ways of dealing with sadness and pain.

He had been through so much, and yet he stood, and he always told himself that it would be worth it. Soon enough he would find something that would make it all worth it, and he had found that in you.

Your soul matched his in a way he never thought possible, and though you didn’t have the same physical scars you had both been through more than you can imagine. And he always found himself gravitating to you, the one person in the world that he felt never judged or expected anything from him.

Sure, he obviously did not know how to deal with this. He never knew how to talk to you, what to say and when to say it, and he really did not know how to seem casual just as Jaskier always could. Not to mention he was constantly worried about losing you. He felt like a flame, loving something so much and trying to engulf it into warmth only for it to burn and vanish.

You had been through so much, he never wanted you to burn and he couldn’t imagine a life without you.

So, even if he couldn’t show emotion or manage to properly show his love, he allowed Jaskier to grow close to you. Geralt made sure that you were physically safe, warm and fed. It was the least he could do.

He never wanted to leave you wanting for anything, and he desperately tried to find ways to show you yet nothing ever worked.

But then you were his, for one small moment he had you and he felt as though everything was worth it again. He would burn the world down for you, slay any monster and batter any mortal. It was all yours for the taking…

Until you burned.

How ironic, how hard he fought to keep you at arms length only to lose the battle in a split moment, and be proven right just like that.

Now you were gone.

He knew exactly where you were, had already tried to get you, only to be stopped at the door each time. Each time he was stopped he wanted to crush their skulls, storm up to wherever they were keeping you and try to explain.

He would drag you out the door himself just to make sure you never had to do this again. But there were laws, as well as contracts. He would never be allowed to see you unless he could pay the fee, and you would never be allowed to leave unless you could buy out your contract.

If he managed to get to you and help you escape there would still be the hassle of everyone hunting you down, and word spreads from town to town quickly when it comes to Witchers.

“How much?” He growls, keeping his eyes narrowed in on the older woman before him, watching her lean back on her chair and fix her dress. She was unlike any other brothel owner he had come across, the others always had a protective notion for the girls. This one seemed vindictive in every word she spoke.

“Witcher, I have told ye the last 4 times ye have been here that she is not for sale.” She laughs, reaching a foot out to kick the pouch of gold he had laid on the table in front of her. Her dress rides up exposing a very scarred leg, and his stomach tightens at the atrocities you must be going through with this hag and any man she rented you out to. “Y/n is the emerald of all brothels, before she came upon mine she was already widely known for her beauty, not to mention her time with the Witcher? Men are practically killing themselves to have a moment with her. I stand to make more keeping her than I ever would selling her back to you.”

“Her contract-”

“Has another 4 years under my roof. By the end of that I could be far far away from this continent. Don’t you understand?” She leans forward, knocking the satchels down and watching all the gold pieces fall on the ground.

That had been 4 months work, 4 months of Geralt working himself to the bone and saving up in a chance to save you. He hadn’t eaten properly or slept more than 2 hours a night in that span of time.

Images flash through his mind, him ringing this wenches neck in or slamming her head into the fire. Maybe he could slice her head off in one clean motion.

But he doesn’t, because he understands the consequences. So he bites his tongue and stands straighter. “I just want to see her-”

“Then you pay, just as everyone else.” The Madame sneers, leaning across the table. “I don’t give a fuck if you love her witcher, though I don’t believe you are even capable of that, my rules stay the same. You want to see her then you pay for her time.”

He leans forward, smirking a bit when her attitude drops in fear for a moment, before tilting his head. “Then how fucking much?”

“I really do not believe you were worth 230 gold pieces-” Lord Servail huffs, struggling to shove himself back into his trousers. You struggled not to roll your eyes as you sat up, pulling the sheet to cover yourself and looking at the floorboards of the raggedy room.

You had learned that the men of this village did not like to be watched, most of them married and most of them carrying guilt. You had merely assumed Lord Servail to be the same.

“Have you nothing to say, whore?” He bellows, walking across the room to grab at your chin. A moment of panic sinks in, one hand holding the sheet tight while the other grabs at his wrist in an attempt to free yourself.

“I do not understand what you mean, sir-”

“You are boring! You just laid there like a fucking corpse-”

“That didn’t seem to stop you from finishing within a minute-” The slap sounds out and for a second you wonder what he hit, then you open your eyes and feel the stinging on your cheek to realize it had been you.

A bitter laugh slips past your lips as you taste the iron.

Blood trails down past your lips as tears spring up in your eyes, the sheets under you stained and ripped from the past month. You think of Geralt in this moment, wishing that you were near him even if he ignored you.

There had always been a calming factor to the witcher that you never understood, maybe it was a feeling of safety or maybe you just liked that he never showed much anger. He took anything that affected him and made a rational judgment.

He was a man of trust, and he had never let anything harm you. Sure he yelled at you when he thought you stupid, and made condescending remarks, but you never felt as though he would lay a hand on you.

“Is that all?” You sniffle, reaching a hand up to stop the blood as he steps back. The man stares at you before yelling out and storming out of the room, shirt untied as well as the trousers. You hear him yelling at your Madame before he leaves and you move over to the basin in the corner to clean yourself off.

You clean your nose before moving to clean your legs, letting the tears fall freely as you hear her heels come down the hall.

“You’ve just cost yerself yer pay, I’ll tell you that much.” Madame snaps, the door swinging hard enough to make the wall shake as she marches in. “I told ye that Lord Servail was a valued client and you-”

“Smiled pretty and let him cum. He really didn’t complain much until it came time to pay.” You snark, watching her face pull up. “Have I any news? Anyone come to see me?”

It had been a month, and you had kept hoping that maybe Geralt or Jaskier would come to see you. At least try to get you back, but nothing. No letters, no visits, nothing.

“Yer Witcher isn’t comin for ya’. So I suggest you fix yerself up and get back to work.” The Madame snarls, tossing the silk robe at you before storming back out.

That lonely feeling that clung to you the day you left never seemed to fade, it folds in around you now as you pull into yourself. Knees hugged to your chest as you hide your face and cry.

Truly what did you expect? That he would come pounding on the door? Try to save you? The salty taste of the tears mixes in with the iron as you sob. You had been foolish, so very foolish.

Geralt must be at least 6 towns away by now, barely even thinking of you.

“I am terribly sorry to inform ye, Witcher, that my emerald is stacked up for the next week and a half.”

“Bullshit.”

She snarls at him, standing quickly and snatching a heavy book from the desk behind her before slamming it on the table. “Take a fucking look then.”

He doesn’t waste a moment, snapping through the pages one by one until he reaches your ledgers. Your handwriting is at the top, neat and clean from the ink, dated that day you dashed from the tavern.

The very same day he had raced over here to see you.

The day after he had you in his arms.

The memory of it flashes through him, the way he snatched you like a caveman. He tries to reason with himself that he believed it to be consensual, that he hadn’t realized you were under a spell. But it didn’t matter.

He treated you in a way he swore to himself he never would, and he made you so uncomfortable that you ran.

Bile rises in his throat as embarrassment and guilt claw through him, he snaps through your pages to see dozens of signatures on each page. “You have her seeing twelve clients each day?”

“This is a busin-”

“Is she eating enough? Sleeping enough? Are you giving her proper time to rest?”

“I’m not a fucking babysitter-”

“If you are abusing your contract then she has a right to leave!”

She stares at him, watching for a moment with wide eyes as her cheeks go red. Then she fixes herself, clearing her throat before shouting out loud. “BOYS!” He doesn’t fight it as they grab both of his arms, instead he lets them carry him to the door and throw him to the mud below.

“Guessing she didn’t take it?” Jaskier asks, watching Geralt pick himself up, checking to make sure he still had the satchel of gold. “Surprise surprise.”

All Geralt could do at this point was grunt, moving towards Roach as the barb fixes his coat.

“I have another job, heard whispers of a screaming creature in the woods not far off from here. Figured you’d want to go out and make more gold so we can do this all again over and over and over.”

“She’s overworking her, I just know it. Not enough time to eat or sleep-”

“Geralt, as much as I love Y/n, I think we need to….evaluate our current situation.”

“I NEED TO -”

“Get to her. I know. I’m not saying anything otherwise. I just want you to think about whether you want her to see you like this.”

“I want to see her safe.”

“And Y/n would want the same of you. Besides, we obviously have no power against the brothel system.”

“I have fought countless beasts-”

“And I am still your only friend. It’s time you admit it Witcher, humans aren’t your best expertise.”

If this was any other moment Geralt would ignore him, hop onto Roach and pretend the worm didn’t exist. But he was tired, so tired he truly didn’t think he could even climb onto the horse.

“Then what do you suggest?”

“First? Sleep. Then? We find an outside source.”

Two months in and winter had finally come.

You found yourself huddling together with Snae, a brothel worker that had been here a little longer than you, but hadn’t been that much older. This had been the first night you both had off this entire time, and it hadn’t been a purposeful thing.

There had been a ball in the village, apparently a beast had been slaughtered and most of the nobles and rich men left in their carriages far away. Which meant you were free to huddle close to your friend for warmth as you tried to fight off the winter air.

“I imagined this brothel warmer.” She sniffles, pressing her forehead to your arm as you shiver. “I was told this was one of the best-”

“It is….. To their guests.” You laugh, tired and aching. Honestly you could barely move, and you hadn’t managed to make it at dinner hour since you had been with a client. But Snae was nice enough to sneak you in a roll of bread.

“I want to get out of here.” She admits in a quick breath, and you can’t help but smile at the admission.

You had often imagined ways you would escape, but the truth was you had nowhere to go and no one to leave for. What would you have if you left here? Nothing.

So instead you close your eyes, and lean into her as you whisper. “Where would you go?”

“Home. To find my sister.”

“You have a family?”

“A little sister, it’s why I am here. I wanted to make sure she had something to pay for food.” Something tears at your chest, and within a moment you think of a plan.

“Then let’s get you out of here.”

It takes a mere 30 minutes to pack her a travel pack using a sheet from the bed, rushing to your room to pick up the floorboard where you keep the little pay you make, 10 silver coins. Tossing them in her satchel before tiptoeing to the attic where the largest window was.

“Shhh.” You whisper when she slips, the wood beneath her scraping under her shoe. Helping her stand before moving to the window. Unlatching it was easy, the winter air covering both of you in a moment. “You swill slide from this section to the next. Until you make it to that tree.”

“You go first.”

“I am not coming.” You laugh, clearing some of the snow from the sill.

“You must.”

“No, I have nothing. Besides, one of us needs to stay and give you time.”

“Y/n-”

“If she begins hunting you then go and find the witcher. Do you hear me?”

“He wouldn’t help someone like me.” She laughs, and you merely stare at her.

“I think you would be surprised of just how good of a person the Witcher is, though he likes to pretend he is not.”

“What should I say to him if I must find him?”

“That the Geralt I know would keep you safe. Now go.”

You help her climb up the sill and onto the roof, watching her slide down in the flimsy robe Madame forces you to wear and make sure she makes it to the tree safely before closing the window.

You allow yourself one moment to press your forehead against the cold glass of it, your breath hitting the glass to form a smudge. You imagine escaping yourself, maybe going out to find Jaskier.

But that was unrealistic.

And you were obviously unwanted.

“Please, it’s very important-” A strong female voice fills the air as Geralt breathes in the scent of roast and ale. There was also smoke from the fires but he was far too hungry to admire that scent on it’s own. “They said that he was here and-”

“First round of ale on me.” Jaskier sings out, moving to the counter as Geralt rolls his eyes. Jaskier was carrying his gold sack so truly the first round was on him.

He was six villages away from you right now, landing at a cheap tavern for the night before they set up camp. They were here to listen for jobs.

The plan, as terrible as it was, had been to travel to find Yennefer and along the way they would earn some extra gold. That way when they go they can send the witch in to make the deal, or at least pretend to make the deal as she can try to sneak you out.

It was a terrible plan……. Because it was Jaskiers plan.

“Please, I need to find the witcher.” That draws Geralt's attention away from the hearth he had been glaring into, head whipping to spot the young woman clutching the shoulders of a little girl as she begs the man once more. “If you could just tell me where he would be staying-”

“Witchers aren’t allowed in the fucking taverns here, so shut yer trap before I put it to work-.” Before Geralt could stop himself his hand is shooting out, catching the man by the back of the neck. At his movement the hood he had been wearing falls and the people around him all quiet down.

The womens eyes fall to him, widening. “You are just as Y/n described.”

Something tightens in his chest at the mention of your name, and he finds himself nodding to Jaskier to lead the girl outside. The air hits him, the warmth gone but there was nothing that would hinder him from the conversation.

“You know Y/n?” His voice is rough, the heat traveling his skin hiding him from the cold. The woman's eyes are filled with tears and the young girl is shoving her face in the smallest scrap of dress he had seen, so in one quick moment he rips his hood off to hand to them. “Is that what you wear in this cold?” “Please, I… I’m from the same brothel as Y/n and she helped me escape. All my money has gone to keeping my sister warm….. Y/n said that you would help. She said the Geralt she knew would help.”

“Where is she?” His heart is thundering through his ribcage at this point, and he can see Jaskier emerging from the tavern. “Did she make it-”

“She didn’t come.”

“Why?”

“Probably scared she wouldn’t make it out. Or might believe she is all alone and has nothing to escape for.” The feminine voice makes Geralt jump through his skin. Suddenly she is there, smelling of smoke and lavender.

“Yennefer.” Jaskier gasps, but Geralt hadn’t needed him to let him know.

“Tell me, Geralt of Rivia, about the woman who broke the witcher.”

You were no longer tired at this point, truly you were nothing.

You didn’t speak, missed more meal times than not from being stuck with clients and at this point you didn’t seem to care. You were just breathing, and that was as much energy as you can muster.

Three months into this place had truly broken you.

Yennefer thought this place smelled of urine and death, and though she respected the females brave enough to work here she had absolutely no fucking clue why any man would risk stepping in here.

One look at the young girl passing her with a bruise on her cheek told her all she needed to know. The men that came here didn’t care about anything but getting themselves wet and letting off some steam.

“I have a room upstairs, I charge 50 a month in rent, half your earnings are to the house and the rest belong to you.” A voice sounds out, drawing Yennerfers attention away from the young girl with the bruise, back to the raggedy woman sitting at the counter.

“Excuse me?”

“I have a room for ye-”

“I’m not here for a room. I’m here for a girl.”

“Really?”

Yennefer slaps 2 gold coins onto the counter, a smirk crossing her face as the woman's eyes widen in greed. “I was told you had an emerald here.”

“You’re here for Y/n….only problem there is it’s double for her time.” Yennefer sighs, taking out one more coin and slapping it down. “I said double.”

“And I am willing to go and tell the town that your girls are sick.”

“What do you want with Y/n?”

“I figured you wouldn’t need me to explain how your business works but if you need a lesson in fucking then you would have to pay ME double.”

“She is in the top room. Don’t bother knocking.” And just like that Yennefer is moving, picking up her skirts to walk up the steps, trying not to breathe in the smells as she reaches your room.

Just as the brothel worker said she doesn’t bother knocking, and it was clear why when she walked in.

The beauty Geralt had described last night was still there, just one look and even Yennefer was nearly at a loss for words. But the spark, the light of you was gone. You stared at the wall before you, empty and gone.

“Y/n?” She calls, closing the door behind her. “Y/n…”

“I can’t….she said I’d have a day.” You sob, pulling into yourself.

“You’ll have more than a day, I can promise that.” Yennefer smiles, moving closer slowly. “Your witcher has sent me.”

“My witcher?” There it was, some of that spark. “He’s gonna be mad at me.”

“Now that I can swear on. Come.”

Geralt stood pacing back and forth on the pathway as he waited for Yennefers portal to open, his heart in his throat and his eyes glued to the space before him.

Jaskier waited at the inn they had found with the girl you had saved, Snae. But for now it would just be him waiting for Yennefer, far enough from the town that they would have a head start if anyone went looking for you whilst the rest would cause a stir and send them on a chase.

They had learned from Snae that Madame had sent a bounty out on her, so Geralt could only imagine what she would do to you. ‘Her emerald’.

Then it was there, forming like a cloud at first until it got bigger and bigger until it began showing like a mirror.

Then Yennefers hand came through and Geralt found himself launching forward as she stepped through, both arms wrapped around…..you.

He was there, his hands on you as soon as he could, keeping you upright as Yennefer lets go. “Y/n.”

“Please don’t be mad.” You whisper.

“What has she done to you…..”

Part 3 on October 30th

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