George Harkness has a pit/musk kink. I know for a fact that this man smells foul and he'd shove your face into his sweaty, hairy pits.
this is literally my belief system this is what i worship at the altar of
Send me a NSFW headcanon and I’ll write a 5 sentence ficlet about it!
minors DNI!! 🔞
"C'mere and get an idea of what a real man is like, babe!"
George grabbed you before you could protest, one strong arm around your waist pulling you into an embrace that, had he asked politely for, you would have agreed to, but which felt all the more sinful and tempting by the sheer fact that he'd pushed it upon you.
"Get a good whiff, fill your nostrils with that!"
The way he had pinned you to his torso meant your face was pressed into his armpit, nose tickling from the hairs, sense overwhelmed by the rugged stench of his sweat and his natural musk plus the addition of a cheap deoderant he'd sprayed on at least three days prior.
"That's it, deep breaths, babe, and when you're done you can tell me how much you liked it."
The apartment was a mix of rough agged noise and sharp flashes of light against the dark walls as you cuddled closer into Emma's side. The horrific sounds piercing the otherwise silent place as you shuddered, trembling slightly. You glanced up at Emma who was mindlessly munching on popcorn.
Now, you agreed to the horror movie for the cliche "Oh i'm so scared fuck me!" moment, but it seemed like she hadn't taken the hint.
You were wrong.
She smirked at you in a side eyed glance. "Use your words" she said slyly, eyes piercing like her words as a different kind of tingle ran down your spine. You looked down, looking away from her intensity while she grabbed your chin, forcing you to face her again.
"Uh uh uh, try again~"
“You think I don’t notice?” Emma’s voice was a velvet blade. She quickly shoved you on your back on the sofa, stiletto nails running down your exposed skin. She straddled your hips, pinning you with nothing more than her presence. "You know I don't like it when you hide how you feel away from me"
You swallowed hard. “Emma—”
Her fingers slipped lower, parting you with maddening slowness. You gasped as she pressed just enough to make your thighs quake.
“Shhh.” Her smirk curved dangerous and sweet all at once. “You have lost the opportunity to talk. It's over. You have to face the music darling.”
Her hands were quick to begin sliding under your shirt, cool to the touch but sizzling with electricity.
“These are mine,” she said against your lips, fingers beginning to trace circles around your hardening nipples.
Your head rolled back in bliss, looking up at her with glossy eyes. Your hips bucked up, wanting more as she toyed with you like her favorite plaything. When her tongue slid past your teeth and you moaned into her mouth, you knew—you were gonna get exactly what you wanted.
Tonight and forever.
Emma Frost was all yours too.
]Emma always kissed like she was claiming territory, like she was reminding you who you belonged to and tonight was no different. Her fingers pinched you just right, making you squeal before one hand let go.
Her right hand shoved up your shirt, fingers trailing over your ribs, cold rings scraping your skin. You gasped when her left side nails dragged down your side, hips bucking against her thigh where she’d pressed herself shamelessly between your legs.
Her thigh felt amazing pressed against your clothed clit, your body reacting feverishly to the sensation. "Look at you—rubbing yourself against me like a needy little slut.” Her words were teasing, making you leak even more.
Her hand slipped down your shorts, brazen and unhurried, fingertips sinking into you with a practiced motion.
You couldn't hold back your cries as she began to fuck you on her fingers, pulsating and pushing in and out of your gushy hole with a maddening expertise. Your hands gripped her shoulders, holding on for dear life as she brought you to completion-
꒰ content ꒱ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ decorating her hair with flowers . . . diana prince x fem!reader, fluff, no pegasi will be harmed
A large oak tree shields you from the beating sun. Diana sits obediently, her features soft as she gazes at the sky.
Though all that changes when you brush through her curls aggressively.
“Darling—” She cuts herself off with a wince, her lips tugging downward.
“Yeah? What is it?” Your fingers continue to brush through her locks, strangely silky for a warrior. You’ve tried her shampoo and conditioner, of course—you’d eyed them like they’d give you the same results she gets. For some reason your hair never came out as nice as hers.
“Gentler, please,” she chides softly, leaning back and turning her head just enough not to disrupt whatever you’re doing.
“Oh, sorry.”
A walk through the garden had turned into sitting beneath a tree when you grew tired, sweat clinging to your skin. You don't know how Diana still looks as put together as she did before the walk. You've been trying to will your legs to keep up for the past 20 minutes.
You pluck some flowers from the ground as you attempt to make a flower crown, a mix of reds and yellows.
“Can you teach me how to fight one day?” you ask absentmindedly.
She hums. “If that is what you wish.”
You grin. “You’d say yes to anything, then.”
“That is not what I said, my love.”
You drop the makeshift crown and wrap your arms around her neck from behind.
“Finished already?” She tries to turn, curious to see what you’ve done.
“Nope.” You continue to hug her, your face burrowing into her hair, taking in her scent as if it'll bring you peace.
“Would you kill a pegasus for me?”
The sudden question makes her blink, unsure whether to reprimand you or laugh.
“Pegasus are beloved creatures…”
“I’m your beloved creature.”
“Yes, that is true.” A reluctant smile graces her lips. “However, I do not kill needlessly. You, of all people, know life is—”
“Precious,” you finish for her, your arms falling to your sides.
She hums, satisfied. Her hand finds yours. “Will a kiss not suffice?” She's facing you now, her legs folded neatly beneath her
Pulling your hand back, you look for the crown. “Hmm, I don’t know. Anyone can kiss me, but can they kill a mythical creature?”
“I can do more than kiss you,” she says casually, not taking the bait. Her eyes dart to you before focusing on the flowers in your hand.
“Oh?” You ask, raising a brow. You reach up to place the flower crown on her head. “Such as?”
Diana shifts closer, near enough that her knee brushes yours. “I could spar with you at dawn.”
You wrinkle your nose. “That sounds horrible.”
“You asked me to teach you to fight.”
“Yeah, but not at an ungodly hour.” You admire your poorly done crown. Definitely not a crown fit for a princess.
But it's somehow perfect for your princess, you think, when her eyes find yours.
Masterlist
one day a 6 foot something warrior with pretty hair will fall in love with me and we will live happily ever after
alliance (requested! + nsfw)
talia al ghul x fem!reader
mentions: 1k event, wlw (duh), arranged marriage, face sitting, oral (reader receiving), talia eating you out yum, overstimulation, dirty talk, talia def degrades idgaf, possessiveness, pussy drunk!talia
(i remember i was in a bad mood when i started writing this so i stopped and now im wet and in the best mood possible)
🎧-- shameless by camila cabello
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money wasn’t just the only thing running the earth; it was also power. and that was something the al ghul family knew well. but of course, that doesn’t stop anyone from craving for more. that was because power was limitless; it can strike hope into people, but it can also strike fear-- to the family that was feared in all of asia, that was all they needed.
and to add more to their power was an alliance with your family, similar to them with the illegal activities and power and blah blah blah. that aliance was through the old-fashioned way— marriage
at first, talia was opposed to it, telling her father that her love life was the one thing where she had free will. but ra’s insisted on meeting your family, convincing talia to at least give them a chance
but when she entered your palace and laid her green eyes on you, she was thinking that this marriage wouldn’t be so bad after all
originally, talia was supposed to marry someone else from your family— someone ‘on par’ with her— but the moment she met them after sighting her gaze on you, she accepted the proposal but with one condition— to marry you instead
you were standing in the corner of the grand room with eyes widened as you saw talia look at you after stating her exception. ra’s blinked twice, but didn’t care as long as it was a direct member of your family. your parents were just as shocked as you, while your family member aka the original bait, had their jaw dropped
but of course, who was going to say no to talia al ghul? especially when you were equally entranced by her? which was why you accepted her proposal with no hesitation
as for the wedding, it felt more like a treaty instead of a ceremony-- as expected
it was held in your family’s palace, its influence of wealth and legacy easily shown through the marble corridors and vaulted ceilings. but that night, it didn’t feel like it belonged to your family anymore. it now belonged to the union that shook the world
when the vows were spoken and the contracts were signed, talia looked at you with eyes that were not only taking in every feature of your side profile but also measuring you— not in a cruel way, but in the way someone measures a blade they intend to keep
and here came the wedding night, where beautiful gowns of silk you and talia wore were now lying on the floor with little importance, where bare skins were now on one another. and most importantly, where your pussy was now in talia’s mouth with your legs spread and back arched
the position you were bent in was downright filthy— talia under you, her mouth doing wonders to your pussy while your ass was in the air, sounds leaving your lips and being muffled by the pillow that you shoved in your face
you couldn’t think straight, not when talia’s hands were keeping your thighs spread and her tongue repeatedly hitting that spot in you— especially considering the fact that she’s made you come so many times
the first was with her fingers, rubbing slow, deliberate circles to your entrance before inserting them in, curling and pumping them in you so good it made you cum hard. the second was when she ate you out from the front, your hands buried in her hair and whines leaving your pretty lips. the third time was when she used her strap on you, fucking you at such an unbelievable pace that it made her pull out another orgasm from you
and now talia was cleaning you up, at least that’s what she was supposed to be doing. but her tongue couldn’t resist dragging itself onto your sensitive and overstimulated cunt, knowing that it was her who was making your body twitch and your lips agape
“too much” you whined, thighs buzzing from overstimulation and the feeling from talia’s nails digging into them. “i- mmm”
“you can take it” she murmured into your pussy, the heat of her breath making your hips jerk for a second and it was making talia more pussydrunk than she already was. it was driving her crazy as to how good you tasted that she simply couldn’t resist, especially the sounds you reward her with
and as for you, saying no was out of the question. not because you wouldn’t, but because it was impossible to when each orgasm she’s stolen from you was more intense after the other.
“even after three, she still wants more”
“never knew my wife was so filthy”
“pathetic”
all you could respond with were just choked sobs, the sheets in your grip as tight as they could be.
talia licked a slow, long stripe on your clit, tongue still pressing hard for that pressure, making an inaudible moan leave your lips, saliva leaving the corner of your lips
“say it again” she demanded. “say-“ lick. “-my-“ lick. “-name” lick.
“talia- mmm talia, talia” you cried out, tears about to form in your eyes from how her tongue was ruthless on your pussy
talia groaned, feeling your clit twitch on her tongue as a sign. and instead, she pulled your pussy closer till her nose was touching. with her strong grip around your thighs, she started to rock you on her mouth and that made your sounds go louder
her nose nuzzled in your cunt, her tongue lapping your pussy—it was more than enough for you to cum in her mouth for the fourth time.
you let out a loud, shameless moan, followed by breathy whines that trailed as well as the instinctive arch your back gave her. your cum dripped all over talia’s mouth, her tongue making sure not one drop was spared
once finished, talia let go of your thighs— which now had nail marks from her— to slide out from under you before gently turning you over to give you a kiss, making you tasting yourself on her tongue
it drove talia crazy, knowing that you were hers. all of your sounds, your facial expressions when she was fucking you right, your body that she now knew like the back of her hand— all of it was hers, and hers proudly
just where you thought you could finally breathe, you felt talia’s fingers slide to your poor cunt. she slowly pulled from the kiss, half-lidded eyes on you to see your eyes now widen again from her touch. that just made a smirk form on her lips before going back to kiss you again, but more roughly and possessively with the intent of not stopping
newlyweds, am i right?
—————————————————————————
masterlist! ⤷ 1k event !
(a/n: yeah talia can get this cookie anytime and anyWHERE)
Summary: You hear two animals fighting in the woods one night. You find one of them the next day and bring him into your home. The red flags stack up, yet you can't help but find yourself drawn to him.
A/N: don't ask me what possessed me to write a Victor fic I dont know I don’t know and I'm not gonna think about it too hard. Just enjoy. Liev Schreiber is fine as hell with a voice that should be studied
Warnings: Injury and wound descriptions, blood, S M U T, Porn with Plot, hurt/ comfort, feral/ animalistic behavior (duh), rough sex, oral sex, cum eating (out of pussy... hell yeah), biting, licking, I wrote the word tongue too many times, why have none of you put me down yet?
AO3 if you prefer to read there
_______
There are monsters in the woods tonight.
You hear them roaring just past the tree line— massive animals battling for dominance. Not a completely uncommon thing in your part of the world, but definitely an unwelcome one. You grip the shotgun tighter as you dare to step out onto the front porch of your modest cabin. The late fall air would send a chill up your spine if the fear hadn’t done that already. You see nothing. You turn the yard light on, thinking it might scare whatever is out there away, but the blind roaring doesn’t stop.
Whatever was out there, it wasn’t afraid of man.
You’d lived out here long enough to identify almost any critter by sound. But this wasn’t like any animals you’d ever heard before. Grunting and snarling accompanied by snapping branches, sometimes almost sounding borderline human. You lived too far out for the police to be any help and the only self-defence you had was already in your hands. You immediately retreat back into the house, lock the doors, and turn out all the lights. If whatever was out there couldn’t be scared away, then you’d have to do your best to hide and stay safe.
You turn your armchair to face the door, shotgun resting at the ready on your lap. A sleepless night was nothing if it meant your life. You’d only done this once before. A mother grizzly bear had stalked your cabin for 2 days. She almost broke down the door on the last night. Somehow… This seemed worse.
The turbulent unforeseen violence outside continued as the night crawled on, but it never came close to your door. Regardless, you sat at the ready as the clock ticked on and you forced your eyes to stay open.
Eventually, the roaring faded. When the woods were tranquil again, you were already asleep.
______________
You wake up to the blinding morning light. The shotgun was still resting on your lap, and you silently scolded yourself for falling asleep with it still on your person before setting it to the side. You recline the chair, stretching out as the evening events come flooding back to you in an instant.
Something horrible happened last night just outside your door. If you were younger you’d be absolutely petrified right now, and maybe a small part of you was. You can never fully train fear out of you. But you’d been out here a while. You’re part of the ecosystem like anything else. This was your territory. That was challenged last night. You needed to establish you’re not afraid.
With heavy feet, you walk to the front door. You step onto the porch, shotgun still in hand. Your first steps onto the ground are cautious. The woods are quiet this morning, creatures hidden away in fear of whatever they witnessed last night. It makes your hair stand on end, but still, you press on.
The only sound that can be heard is the crunch of leaves under your feet as you stalk towards the edge of your property line— closer to where the sounds came from last night. You stop when the treeline gets denser and the ground gets steep. The sound of the river just down the hill is comforting.
Panic grips you when you spot it.
A man— beaten and blooded, half submerged on the shore.
You scramble down the hill without thinking. It wasn’t a fight between two predators. It was a fight between an animal and a man. He was fighting for his life and you just sat there all night.
He’s worse when you get up close. There are gashes on nearly every part of his body— claw marks in sets of three. There’s a massive one across his entire face. He’d likely lost his right eye.
You crouch down beside him, getting a better look at his features beneath the gore. His hair was short and dark. You can make out some thick stubble caked with blood. You cautiously hover your hand over his mouth. It was faint but it was there— breath. God, he’d been bleeding out all night, how is he still alive?
There’s no time to think about it now, you have to help him. You had to try at least.
You drop your gun, hook your arms under his shoulders and heave. He’s heavy as hell but you still manage to walk, one step after the other. You’re amazed you managed to get back up the hill to the cabin. Adrenalin is a hell of a thing.
You put him on the couch in the living room. His skin was ice cold, so your first priority is to light a fire before you do anything else. Dressing his wounds wouldn’t mean anything if hypothermia set in.
You had a modest stockpile of medical supplies, it was a necessity when someone lived the way you did. The nearest hospital was over 50 miles away and the only road to town had been washed over by a mudslide last week. His only hope was you— and your modest medical knowledge.
You pile up a few rolls of gauze and bowls of clean water next to him on the coffee table. All you had to do was clean and cover the wounds— maybe stitch a few. You take a deep breath and get to work.
__________
Hours. It took hours but you did it. He more resembled a mummy than a man by the time you were done. The cabin was finally warm and his skin was slowly heating up… well, what little of it you could see under the bandages.
You’d tossed his shirt immediately, it was practically scraps anyway. You let him keep his pants, only with a few holes in the knees and a stray tear or two. He didn’t have shoes, which, now that you’re thinking about it, was a little odd. How do you manage to lose your shoes in a fight for your life? You’ll have to ask him when he wakes up. If he wakes up.
You sit across from him in your armchair, just looking. Though he was asleep he seemed… rough. Mean almost. His haircut made you think he’s a military man but the rest of him said otherwise. Massive sideburns and spotty stubble. Long unkempt nails. You’d never seen hands like his before. They looked… unnatural. This man survived an hours-long fight with some kind of predator, everything about him was unnatural. There’s a name for people like that— you try not to think about it.
It’s hours later before anything happens.
You’re in the kitchen when you hear a gasping breath. You immediately run over.
He’s awake, grasping at the bandages on his chest. He’s breathing rapidly.
“Where am I?!” he croaks out.
“Don’t do that,” You grab at his hands to stop him from pulling the gauze off, “You’ll open your—”
“Get the hell away from me!” he shoves you down in a flurry of movement. He attempts to get off the couch, collapsing under his own weight instantly. He barks out a pained grunt, grasping at his leg. You’re sure there was at least a severed tendon or two.
“You’re safe!” you assure him as you scramble to his side, keeping a safe distance this time, “You’re in my home. I found you by the river and—”
“Where is he?” the stranger growls through gritted teeth.
“I don’t know who you’re talking about,” You dare to touch him again, urging him back to the couch. To your surprise, he doesn’t flinch away, “Please, get back in bed.”
He finally looks at you now, and the rage in his eyes— well, eye–- sends a shiver down your spine. Your first assumptions were right, this man was angry. Maybe it was a mistake to bring him back here. You brought a stranger into your home— an angry stranger.
You notice his nose twitch. Is he… smelling you?
“You scared?” he asks bluntly.
He doesn’t take his eye off of you. You’re not sure how to navigate this situation. He was clearly dangerous, but he also couldn’t walk at the moment. Was he really a threat or just panicked? He did just wake up in a stranger's home after probably the worst night of his life after all.
“Are you going to hurt me?” you ask.
He scoffs, shaking his head with a faint smile.
“No, I don’t think so, frail,” he rolls on his back with a pained groan. He looks at the bandages snaking up his arms. He brings his grizzled hand down to touch the patch over his eye, “Christ, you went through a lot of trouble for nothin’.”
“Should I have left you there to die?” you ask cautiously, reestablishing some distance between the two of you.
“Probably would have been best,” he mumbles, hand still over where his right eye should have been, “Never had it this bad before.”
“Before?” you scoff, “You go wrestling bears in the woods often, stranger?”
“Didn’t fight a damn bear,” he grunts, sitting up and inching his way back to the couch.
“Oh yeah?” You loop your arm through his and help him the rest of the way onto the couch. “What did you fight?”
He lays back with a heavy sigh. He lets out another small chuckle and you see a flash of pearly white pointed teeth.
“A wolverine.”
_________
You hide away in the other parts of the house until evening. You tried to talk to him a little more after he initially woke up, but he didn’t reciprocate much and honestly, you can’t blame him. You wouldn’t want to be berated with 20 questions after you survived a wolverine attack either. Still, you got a little out of him.
Victor. He said his name was Victor.
As the hours rolled on your anxieties stewed more and more about the situation you’d put yourself in. He’s already sitting up and talking. He was conscious less than a day after heavy trauma. He surely had to be in excruciating pain but didn’t say anything. Didn’t even touch the painkillers you set on the table for him. He just sat there, waiting almost. He said he wouldn’t hurt you but you don’t know him. You don’t know what he’s capable of.
He has clawed hands and pointed teeth… and he’s just sitting in your living room. You don’t want to dwell on it. You don’t want to judge. You keep your shotgun within reach just in case.
You’re in the laundry room when you hear booming footsteps down the hall.
You rush out to the kitchen and there he is, standing tall and straight.
“What are you— You’re—”
“I was thirsty,” he grits through your stammering, reaching into the cupboard to pull out a glass.
“You’re walking.”
He makes a small show of looking down and wiggling his toes, then looking back at you with faux shock on his face.
“Well, would ya look at that,” he drawls, “It’s a goddamn miracle.”
He brushes you off and fills his glass in the sink, downing the entire thing in one gulp before immediately filling it up again.
“You’re still scared.” he gruffs without even looking at you.
“Why shouldn’t I be?” you stand your ground, glancing to the hallway where your gun was mounted.
“I said I wouldn’t hurt you,” he reiterates in an almost annoyed tone. He turns to face you now, leaning back against the counter with a new glass of water.
“How do I know I can trust you?”
He raises his hand and you can’t help but notice his long nails peeking out from behind his fingers. “Scouts honor.”
“I need more than that.” you take a step closer, quelling the anxiety bubbling in your stomach. “If you’re going to stay I need more.”
“More?” He scoffs before taking a swig of his water. “What could you possibly—”
You don’t let him finish, slapping the glass out of his hand. It clamors to the floor without breaking, water splashing at your feet. He seemed like the type of man that would only respond to aggression. He was a guest in this house. This was your territory and you couldn’t let him think he was in charge. He couldn’t walk all over you. Sometimes showing dominance is the best way to stay safe. Show no fear.
You were going to get answers one way or another.
“I want honesty,” You stand directly in front of him. You see the seething rage in his almost gleaming eye and match it, “I find you mauled half to death and drag you in here. You wake up without so much as a thank you. You couldn’t even walk a few hours ago and now here you are standing in my kitchen thinking you own the place. You give me a little honesty, and I’ll give you a little trust.”
You stand there in bloated silence, both of you refusing to back down. Christ, he’s big. He looks down at you with contempt almost, until his expression melts back into something more neutral. You flinch when he reaches up, but he doesn’t lay his hand on you. His clawed fingers grip the bandages around his chest and rip them off in one fluid motion.
You almost scream at him to stop before you notice it. The deep gashes that were so prominent on his skin just a few hours ago… were almost completely gone. Only small cuts on fresh pink skin littered his chest. Christ, even the hair was growing back.
“You— what does… how is this possible?” you ask, almost dumbfounded. But you knew. Deep down you knew.
“Aw, and here I thought you might be smart,” he tuts, turning to retrieve another glass.
“You’re a mutant.” You finally say it out loud. There was no denying it now.
“Told ya you went through a lot of trouble for nothing,” he grunts almost dismissively. He turns to face you again and his expression is almost… soft. He’s relaxed. He’s trying to make you comfortable. That or he was finally relieved everything was out in the open now. Either way, the air was lighter.
“You still scared?” He asks.
Are you? You’re not sure. He promised he wouldn’t hurt you. And, he gave you what you asked for. He gave you honestly. Now you have to keep up your end of the bargain.
Unsure of how to continue, you simply reach out your hand. It hovers there in front of him for a moment. He stares at it almost dumbfounded, before he takes it. Your hand feels so small in his.
“Welcome to my home, Victor,” you offer him a small smile. “I hope you’ll behave or you’ll have led in your ass to worry about next."
His sharp smile could almost be considered kind, “Thanks a million, kitten.”
__________________
By the next morning he’s taken off almost all of the bandages, say for the one over his eye. He said it would take longer for his eye since it was fully regrowing something instead of mending skin. You’re still in awe of it all. You never knew much about mutants, but you're sure he had to be something special. He’d practically come back from the dead.
You worked up the courage to ask him about the claws last night.
Don’t you know an animal when you see one? Was his only answer. You could make your own assumptions off of that.
He stands just outside of the cabin right now. You’d found an old grey henley shirt for him to wear. He didn’t seem to mind having no shoes. You assume it’s all part of the whole ‘beast’ thing he has going on.
He said he wanted to exercise before he left the house, mumbling about still being sore. His walk has the slightest limp in it you think he’s trying to hide. He stretches his arms over his head and cracks his neck a few times before bounding off into the woods with the agility of a tiger. He really did move like an animal.
You’re still not sure what to make of him. You didn’t care that he was a mutant, but you can’t shake the feeling that he’s someone dangerous. You could just see it in him. A quiet rage about everything. A cocky smirk that sets you on edge in a way you can’t quite place. And in its own way… a carefully curated image.
On top of all of his red flags, something about him was just so… alluring. You just can’t seem to stop your thoughts from drifting to the more lustful side when you think about him.
He comes back an hour later. You’re standing at the kitchen window when you see him bound down from the trees. He has two dead pheasants in hand. He takes a seat on the porch and begins plucking them, his back still facing you. You watch his shoulders rise and drop with his ragged breaths, his wide back almost mesmerizing. He was strong, you knew that from the moment you saw him. Vicious too.
An animal. He called himself an animal. You wonder just exactly what that meant.
You feel the arousal stir in your belly, a wet ache growing between your legs. You notice his demeanor shift outside, and his head turns slightly. You jump out of view of the window, ashamed to have been spying on his personal time. You’re not sure, but you think you hear a small chuckle outside.
He comes back in about ten minutes later, with two freshly plucked and gutted birds to offer. Birds he hunted down with his bare hands.
“Brought dinner,” he announces, placing them in the sink. “Noticed you were almost out of meat.”
You stand on the opposite side of the kitchen, back towards him. You're not sure why, but you're embarrassed.
“Thank you,” you say, fiddling with whatever books were on the table.
You feel him come up behind you, standing just inches away.
“Sure thing, kitten,” his lips faintly brush your ear before pulling away. “Gonna shower.”
_______
He was going to track down Logan and finish what he started. He wasn’t going to come back to this fucking place. No reason to. He barely made it 3 miles before the exhaustion started overtaking him, his still cracked ribs and torn tendons aching in protest. It was taking too damn long this time. The runt had done a number on him. He hoped he’d at least returned the favor in equal measure.
It didn’t matter anymore. He lost Logan’s scent in the river, the water erasing whatever trail that was left. He’d find him eventually and they’d do it all over again. Same old song and dance forever.
So he scurries back to this shithole cabin to lick his wounds.
He hates it. He hates it here. He hates that he’s apparently so goddamn weak he needed help from a human. He hates the way this fucking cabin smells. He hates you.
His cock’s painfully hard in his hands. Victor stands hunched over himself in the shower, hoping the rushing water is loud enough to drown out any lewd sounds you might hear. He honestly didn’t know how good human hearing was anymore.
Truth be told this was probably his favorite way to relieve some stress after getting his ass handed to him— though he’d rather be cumming in someone pretty. You would do nicely, but for some reason, he held back. You wanted him, he could smell it, and Victor Creed held back. Instead giving himself a sad quick jerk in the shower.
He chalks it up to having some kind of respect for you, whatever little he’s capable of. You dragged his ass up here, kept him in your home, did your best to put him in his place. Usually, he’d call all that stupidity, but being on the receiving end of your kindness was…nice.
No one was nice to Victor. No one gave a shit, and he was fine with that. You didn’t seem to care he was what he was. Seemed like you just wanted him to be nice. Fine, he can be nice. The Victor Creed version of nice at least.
Christ, you wanted him— and he smelled it.
He cums with a groan hissed through clenched teeth. It was empty. Not the release he wanted and it just serves to piss him off more. He wouldn’t stick around here much longer. Wait for his eye to be back in its socket again and bones to snap back into place— then he’d go and do what he’d always done. He’d forget about all of this.
He already smells the pheasants roasting in the oven. You came with perks, he won’t deny that.
He doesn’t bother putting a shirt on once his pants are buttoned, walking out of the bathroom dragging a towel across his damp hair. It smelled even better out here. He sits by the kitchen where you scurry around doing god knows what.
“When’s the bird ready?” he asks.
“A few hours. We should—” You finally turn to face him, pausing as soon as your eyes land on his face, “You… showered with your bandages on.”
“So?”
“So, you’re gonna get an infection,” you sigh, reaching into a cupboard next to the sink and pulling what he’s pretty sure is your last roll of gauze.
“I don’t get infections,” His words do nothing to stop you as you somehow just materialize in front of him. “You don’t need to—”
“Hush, these things are filthy anyway,” you touch him without hesitation, unwrapping the damp bandages around his head, “Don’t want your eyeball to grow back wrong, do we.”
“You’re unbearable, woman.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard that one before,” You brush his words off with a faint smile. When you take the final patch off his eye, he can’t resist.
“Boo!” he snarls, popping his claws up for dramatic effect. You jump, fear only taking your senses for a brief moment before you smile and smack him playfully on the chest.
“Asshole,” you mutter, taking his face in her hands. He can’t help but chuckle… just a little. your expression drops while you observe the surely hideous gash on his face. Something is growing in his eye socket, he can feel it. It’s almost fully there, but if it’s functional yet is a totally different story. He can barely open it, faint blurry images throwing off his vision and making him dizzy. Maybe it was best to keep the damn thing covered after all.
“How bad is it, doc?” He breaks the silence.
“Well,” you run a thumb across his cheekbone. He pushes down whatever foreign feeling it stirs in his stomach. “It’s better than it was.”
You grab the gauze.
“Just a patch this time. Don’t need ta wrap half my head.” He insists.
“Fine, fine,” you absent-mindedly agree while cutting off a few strips of tape. He feels his muscles tense when you touch him again. “It’s amazing your body can do this, you know.”
“Yeah, I’ll count my blessings,” He huffs, almost annoyed. You don't know a goddamn thing.
“You think your eye will come back a different color?” you continue on absentmindedly, taking your sweet time to position the patch just right.
“What?” he scoffs in amusement.
“Like you’ll get a blue or purple eye instead. Does that happen?”
“No. No, that doesn’t happen.” He can’t tell if you’re just being naive or trying to make small talk. You don't smell afraid anymore. You smell… relaxed. He liked it. The smell was almost…inviting.
“Mm, probably for the best. You’ve got nice eyes— well, eye.” You honest to god laugh at yourself.
“Oh, do I?” He’d bounce his eyebrows sarcastically if you weren’t finally putting the tape on.
“Yeah, you do.” you smooth out the final strip of tape across his forehead. “They almost glow. Like a wild cat’s.”
“Honey… you have no idea.”
Your hands still haven’t left his face. When was the last time someone touched him without the intent to hurt him? When was the last time someone paid him an honest compliment? When’s the last time he talked to a pretty girl without the express purpose of getting information out of her? A girl that wasn’t afraid of him… He can’t remember.
Victor didn’t have quite nice moments like this with people. Never let anyone get close enough to try. He wasn’t someone nice things happened to… so of course the moment was ruined almost immediately.
He hears it before he smells it, stalking footprints in the distance. A large predator coming for the cabin. He takes a deep inhale and closes in on it immediately. A cougar, one he’d met earlier today when he was out. He’d encroached on a mother's territory and she’d tracked him here. Now he’d have to defend yours.
“What is it?” you’d noticed him go stiff, his attention darting to the open door. He grabs your arms as gently as he can and pushes you back.
“Stay inside…please,” He stalks to the door, instincts immediately overtaking his senses. Protect. Defend. Fight if you have to.
He stands on the dirt just in front of the cabin, pacing back and forth— an open challenge. The cougar does the same just beyond the treeline, staying hidden. It doesn’t matter, Victor may be down an eye but he can smell her just fine. This could go on for hours if he didn’t try something. May as well just kill the thing and get it over with.
“Victor?” your meek voice almost pulls him from his predatory focus— almost.
“I said stay inside,” it comes out as more of a growl than he intended, but he doesn’t particularly care at the moment, “Back up and lock the door.”
“Please… don’t kill it. Whatever it is.” You beg him for reasons he can’t fully comprehend at the moment.
“Go inside. Now.”
You said nothing and followed his command, locking the door behind you.
His attention is back on the silent predator just beyond the treeline. This was a territorial dispute, a display of dominance— something Victor was always good at.
He plants his feet, standing parallel to your front door. He squares his shoulders and roars. A challenge. An invitation, really.
Just try it, it won’t go well, Victor thinks as he readies his stance, prepared to pounce.
An eerie silence follows in his voice's echo. The type of silence when there’s about to be trouble.
The mother reveals herself, only slightly, peeking her head through the brush. Her gaze is locked on to him and teeth bared with quivering cheeks. He should pounce now, take her out in one strike. It would be so easy. Killing was always so easy… but you’d asked him not to. And for some reason, that was harder. Restraint wasn’t something Victor ever practiced, so why now?
Because you asked him to.
The two predators both remain unmoving. Both pushed to the edge. Victor pushed her to the edge. She didn’t want to fight, she was just protecting what was hers. So was he… in a way. So Victor does something he’s never done before.
He takes a step back.
He stands at the bottom step of the porch, crouching even lower. He bares the full length of his claws before he roars again— the primal message clear to his fellow predator.
This is mine. Stay away.
There’s a beat of heavy silence between the two, a bit longer than he’d like, before he sees the mother’s posture relax. She steps out of the brush, head hung low— a sign of respect. A promise not to come back. They share one final look before she bounds away into the woods once more.
But it’s not good enough for Victor. He desperately wants to go after her. He wants assurance that you’d be safe. He wants revenge on something for having the audacity to cross him. He wants to march back into the cabin and claim what he’s now marked as his.
Instead, he paces. He walks the perimeter of the cabin praying something else challenges him so he can kill it.
__________
He stayed outside until nightfall that day, just walking around the tree line. You didn’t dare stop him. Something about the way he moved, the way he carried himself, it frightened you. And in a way you’re not ready to admit to, it excites you. This massive lumbering man ready to fight a full-grown cougar stalking around your property like an animal… it did something to you. You try not to think about it, busying yourself with whatever unimportant work you can find.
You ate by yourself that night, leaving out a plate for him. The next morning you woke up to him asleep on the couch with a full pheasant carcass completely cleaned off on the plate next to him. You find two more plucked and gutted birds in the sink too. Well… at least he liked your cooking.
When he woke up he immediately took the bandage over his eye off. You almost slapped him for being too hasty before you saw two perfectly matching topaz eyes looking back at you, the previous gash now thinned to a faint sliver over skin around it.
He left the cabin before you could do anything else, mumbling something about testing it out.
He’s been gone for hours now while you nervously scurry about your humble home, willing your thoughts not to drift to him. It’s useless, he encompassed every thought you had. Those strong clawed hands, his deadly swift movements. His—
You almost yelp when you hear the cabin door slam. You don’t turn around to face him, but you hear his heavy steps lumber back to the living room and collapse on the couch. There’s a heavy sigh as the couch creaks in protest. He’s relaxing. And, somehow, the air is so much lighter now.
“Dinners ready,” you dare to speak up, pulling the probably overdone pheasants out of the oven.
“Good,” he grunts before strolling into the kitchen. He takes an entire bird for himself again, not giving the accompanied roasted vegetables a second glance. You can’t say you're surprised, but it makes you smile a little. You join him in the living room once your plate is filled, sitting kitty-corner from the couch on your armchair.
He didn’t even bother to grab a fork, pulling apart the bird and eating it down to the bone piece by piece. He really was an animal. You chose not to comment on it, quietly eating your own meal on the side.
“What was that?” you finally speak up after a few bites, “Out there the other day. A cougars never come close to here.”
“My fault,” he simply answers, breaking one of the striped bird bones in his hand, “Territory dispute, should be fine now.”
“Okay,” You simply answer despite all of the swirling questions in your head. How can he act so casual after stalking your property like a goddamn tiger for an entire day? Because this was normal to him. This is just part of who Victor was.
Don’t you know an animal when you see one?
You both finish the meal in silence, choosing to stare at the dancing fire instead of each other. The air felt charged. Heavy with something you’re not ready to admit to yourself. You take your plate to the kitchen before you say something stupid.
You almost scream when you turn around to find him directly behind you at the sink, too close for comfort. Christ, you didn’t even hear him walk up. He stands there, staring down at you with those glowing predatory eyes that are so mesmerizing. He reaches out and rests his hands on the counter on either side of you, caging you in. His massive body crowds you against the counter. You can feel your heartbeat start to quicken.
“You think I don’t know what you’re thinking, little girl?” he all but growls out, “You think I can’t smell you? You’ve been driving me crazy.”
One of his hands comes up to your face, the backside of his claws running down your cheek. He was dangerous, a killer. You’re so close to it and it thrilled you.
“What do you want?” his face is hovering closer to yours now.
“I—” You try desperately to hold yourself together, but you just can’t. Not with him, “I don’t know…”
He scoffs slightly, clawed hand coming down to rest on your neck. There’s no pressure in his grasp, but there’s the lingering feeling of control. You should be afraid, you should be absolutely terrified.
“I know what you want,” his head drops to your neck, taking a deep inhale. You swear you feel the faint brush of his fangs against the delicate skin of your shoulder. “You wanna be fucked like an animal. Taken by a beast. Claimed… That what you want?”
The grip on your neck tightens ever so slightly as his body pushes into yours. You’re trembling now, but there’s no fear.
“Yes.”
His mouth envelopes yours with a growl and you finally surrender to him, your previously stiff body melting into his. It’s not gentle. It's not sweet and loving. It’s possessive and a little terrifying— and it’s exactly what you want.
He’s strong, you knew that the moment you saw him, but those rough hands are on you now and it gives his strength a whole new meaning. The steel grip of two clawed paws on your hips almost makes you wince in pain. His body is rigid against yours, a massive unmovable pillar. He’s in full control here. You still have almost no reason to trust him with your body like this, but for some reason you do.
He shoves one of his massive thighs between your legs to the point of being forced to stand on your tiptoes. Admittedly, the pressure against your clothed pussy was delicious. His leg remains steady when you give an experimental roll of your hips. There’s a rumble of approval that stirs in his chest and reverberates straight down to your cunt.
His lips break from yours with heated breath, taking a moment to pierce you with those damned glowing eyes before attacking your neck with his mouth. One of his hand's claws into your hair, pulling your head back to a near uncomfortable angle. The flat of his tongue drags slowly across your pulse before biting down. He doesn’t break skin, but that doesn’t stop you from wailing.
At his mercy— you’re at his full mercy.
You find a rhythm against his thigh, searching for some kind of relief from the building pressure at your core. You’re so wet already, you can feel it through your pants. The built-up desire. The almost all-consuming need for this man. You’d never felt this way for anyone, but again… there was just something about Victor that drew you in. A moth to a flame—or maybe a mouse in the mouth of a tiger.
“Filthy little thing,” He growls against you, “Jesus, you’re already so—”
All at once his intense presence leaves you, just for a moment. His knee drops and he releases your hair. He flips you around against the counter so quickly you almost lose all the air in your lungs. Even from behind his presence is still all-consuming— feverish almost.
One hand still squeezes your hip while the other snakes around to the front hem of your pants. He paws at your clothed cunt, his middle two fingers lingering right over your clit. You can feel the pressure of his claws through your jeans. He holds his hand there, just for a moment.
“Take them off,” His voice is hot and low against your ear. You do as he says, unbuttoning your pants and shimmying them down your hips along with your panties.
His rough hands massage into the plush flesh of your hips while he lingers there, his reach eventually sneaks up your shirt, cupping your bare breasts underneath. He has you completely pressed against him, playing with you like a cat plays with their food.
Every touch of his calloused hands is pure electricity. Somehow gentle and rough at the same time. He was an expert at this, you’re sure of it. You will your knees from shaking.
One of his hands finally trails back down to your waiting pussy, slowly dragging his fingers through your drenched folds. He holds there, pulsing his finger ever so gently on top of your aching clit— that’s when your knees start to shake.
“Needy little thing,” he almost praises into your hair, “Never thought you’d smell this— be this—”
He breaks, suddenly forcing you over the counter. You have just enough time to brace yourself with your hands. You’re on full display for him now, bent over completely with his hands on your hips. You hear the rustling of fabric and the heavy thunk of a belt dropping to the floor.
You moan so sinfully when you feel his velvet cock running through your folds. The wet, sloppy sound is practically pornographic.
“Oh, Christ. Oh fucking Christ,” You hear him rumble as he lines himself up, “You ready for me, darlin’?”
You nod vigorously, bracing yourself for him to just slam in. To your surprise, he doesn’t. Instead, it's slow… agonizingly slow. You whine as inch by inch he takes you, savoring the feeling. You feel his grip tighten the deeper and deeper he goes. You squeeze your fists to ground yourself, being pushed to your absolute limit. He’s big. He’s fucking big.
“Relax,” He grits out, “You can take me, sweet thing. You can—” He cuts himself off with a moan, finally bottoming out. He pauses there, pelvis grinding into your ass ever so slightly. You hear his breathing grow heavy, and he draws out of you.
He slams back in with force and you scream. You hadn’t adjusted to his size yet and there was a good deal of pain mixing with the pleasure. You’d never had anyone this big. You’d never had anyone like Victor, period. A few steady and purposeful thrusts later the pain wasn’t even a factor anymore.
He finds a pace, pulling your hips back to meet him harder and harder. It feels good, god it feels heavenly, but you can’t help but feel like this isn’t what you wanted. You want to fuck him, but you don’t want him to just use you. To not be just some bent-over whore just taking it. Maybe you’re lonelier than you realize, or maybe you're just a romantic, but either way, you need connection.
“W-wait,” you manage to gasp out. He stops immediately, buried to the hilt and pressing you almost painfully into the counter.
“Fucking hell— what?” you can tell he spits it through gritted teeth.
You crane your neck around, only able to see him out of the corner of your eye. He was like a black shadow behind you, completely silhouetted by the moonlight from the window.
“Wanna— I wanna see you.” It feels so pathetic coming from your mouth.
You see his posture shift. He hesitates a moment before pulling out of you. You whine at the sudden loss. You stand up straight with shaky knees and turn to face the black mass with glowing eyes.
“I want to see you,” You repeat, running your hands under his shirt and over his bare torso. You feel his muscles tense in your touch's wake. “I want to look at you when you fuck me.”
Something rumbles in his chest before he grabs you again. He hooks his hands under your ass and lifts you onto the counter. He hovers there, his nose tracing over your face but never fully touching you. Your hands haven’t left him still, he lets you roll off his shirt completely. He stands before you now completely bare and waiting. You loop your arms around his neck.
“Take me to bed, Victor.”
He consumes your mouth again when he pulls you into him, lifting you off the counter like you’re nothing. He carries you down the hall and you somehow manage to finally shed your shirt in the fever of it all. It catches you completely by surprise when he drops you onto your bed, you hadn’t even noticed him walk through your bedroom’s threshold.
You lay there, chest heaving while you gather yourself. He stands there, a faceless black mass again just barely highlighted by the light from the window— piercing eyes a blaze in the darkness. You swear you can feel their burning gaze running over your body.
Your legs hang open at the edge of the bed and he stands directly between them. His upper body crawls over yours, his movements are agile and fluid like a panther. You hook your legs around him, pulling him in closer and he hums in approval.
“Frail wants to watch me fuck her, hmm?” his hands run over your thighs, those claws so dangerously close to breaking skin.
“S-stop calling me that.” you weakly protest, “I’m not frail.”
He simply chuckles in response, a deep throaty thing that puts your hair on end.
“Sure ya aren’t.”
He comes down on one of your breasts, rough tongue dragging over your peaked nipple before taking it into his mouth. Your hands claw down his back and up into his hair. He’s so heavy on top of you. So warm. His tongue greedily rolls around your nipple and over your chest to the other side. His chest rumbles with lust against your stomach as he devours you alive.
He slowly comes off you, those predatory eyes glossed over with need. He crawls down your body until he’s standing on the floor again. He grabs your thighs, yanking you further to the edge of the bed. He rests his cock on top of the mound of your cunt, lazily rolling it back and forth right over your clit. Tiny gasps escape you with every velvet hard stroke.
“Big t-tough girl wants to watch me fuck her,” he purrs. You swear you catch his eyes rolling back from the sensation, “Okay, pretty girl… you can watch.”
In one fluid motion, he slams himself back into your dripping pussy. Your entire back arches off the bed, muscles tensing with your silent scream. You didn’t expect him to be gentle, you didn’t want him to be.
He holds there a moment, savoring the stretch around him. He barely pulls out before rolling back, grinding his pelvis against yours. He grips your legs tightly around the thigh, claws completely retracted so his fingers can dig into the pillowy flesh— he holds you for dear life while he finds his rhythm.
“J-Jesus, you’re so damn tight,” he grits out, “Pretty thing like y-you all alone out here not getting fucked good on the d-daily… it’s a damn shame.”
You think it’s the closest thing he can give to a compliment, but you're not complaining at the moment— he’s not calling you frail anymore.
Tiny little gasps escape you with each thrust, your knuckles going white from gripping the sheets. He looms over you, this massive beast of man drilling into you like it’s the deepest primal urge— and it’s exactly what you wanted.
Looking up at him you feel so close to danger, so close to absolute demise, and yet you’ve never felt safer. Never felt more desired than you do when he looks at you with those glowing eyes. He might be a beast, an animal as he called himself, but he is yours. Right now he’s yours and he’s giving you everything.
“Touch yourself,” he urges through gritted teeth, his movements getting rougher, “Wanna…. See you touch yourself.”
You immediately oblige, having been so lost in the sauce that you completely forgot your own hands were an option. You release a throaty whine as soon as your middle finger circles your clit. The contrast of your gentle strokes mixed with his rough thrusts was an incredible combination you’d never experienced before. You apply a little more pressure, gasping out at the new heat building in your stomach.
“You keep… you keep making those s-sounds and I’m not gonna last.” Victor’s hands trail up your legs, moving your ankles to his shoulders. You’d forgotten you were this flexible. His fanged mouth nips at the flesh of your calves, an attempt to drown all his senses in you.
“Trying—” He moans against your skin, “Trying not to bite you.”
“T-then just do it,” You barely manage to gasp out. You're not so sure why you were so fast to reply to something so insane.
Those gem-like eyes immediately shoot to yours. His teeth bare down on the flesh of your calf, but not enough to break skin. The sharp pain mixed with the all-consuming pleasure makes you squeal. His tongue comes out to soothe over the freshly raw area.
“Not yet, sweet thing—shit— N-not yet.” You have absolutely no idea what he means.
Your whole body bounces up and down against the bed, his thrusts powerful enough to make your headboard slam against the wall. The coil was tightening now, the heat building to that amazing mind-numbing climax you were both so desperately searching for.
“V-Victor– I— I—” is all you manage to squeak out before it overtakes you with a thunderous snap. The massive man collapses on top of you, pulling you into his rough body as he continues to fuck you through your orgasm.
“That’s it— t-that’s— give it to me,” He growls in your ear like a prayer, his hips starting to spasm out of rhythm. He sinks his teeth into your neck with a deep moan as his own bliss overtakes him. Again, he does not break skin.
He still you both there, the wet slaps of skin against skin now replaced with breathy gasps and muffled moans. You feel him spill into you as you pulse around him. His body pins yours down like a weighted blanket until both of your pleasures are spent.
His tongue laps over the indent his teeth have made just like he did with your calf. You think it’s his own primal way of saying sorry. Still, he refused to break the skin, and you wonder why.
“Victor…” you whisper against his ear, running soothing hands down his massive back. A growl rumbles in his chest and reverberates into your own, rattling your heart between your ribs.
“Not done.” you think he mummers against your neck.
“What?” You pause your hands at his waist.
He sits up from you, those predatory eyes still just as hungry as before.
“I’m not done with you yet.” he declares before dropping to his knees on the floor, dragging your lower half with him. You grasp at the sheets for dear life while he holds you balanced there, your leaking pussy right in his face.
“Victor, what are you— ohhhh!” You’re cut off by the overwhelming sensation of his rough tongue dragging through your folds. He laps at you as you squirm in his grasp.
“Taste so good together, darlin’,” he mumbles against you in between the ungodly wet sounds. His tongue delves into you selfishly, the wet muscle pumping in and out while his nose nudges against your clit. Your nerves are so overwhelmed you're not sure you even register everything he’s doing. He moans into you so aggressively you start to wonder if he’s doing this for him or you.
Surely feeling this good must be illegal, you think. Surely this man isn’t actually real.
You writhe against the overstimulation, but his strong hands hold you anchored there against him so impossibly close. His entire mouth closes over your cunt, that agile tongue narrowing in to dance circles around your clit. It’s too much. It’s not enough.
“Pretty pussy like this needs to be licked every night,” He moans between laps of his tongue, “Every goddamn night.”
“V-Victor— P-please— I can’t—” You attempt to plead before he interrupts you.
“Yes you can,” he says it like a demand, “You got one more for me. Please… need one more.” He’s begging for it. Begging for you to come.
Yes, he’s definitely not real. You’re sure of it now.
His attention is back entirely on your clit now, closing his lips around and sucking— it’s your undoing.
You grasp at the edge of the mattress, your entire body arching off the sheets as your second orgasm rips through you. Victor is unforgiving, his mouth and tongue drinking you in greedily and you uselessly squirm against him.
He holds you there for what feels like hours, enveloping himself in the mess you’d both made between your thighs. He can’t enjoy this, you think. There’s no way on Earth he can be enjoying this. Yet he holds you there until your muscles finally relax again, reveling in the mess you’ve both made together.
He guides you down to his lap and you drag the sheets off the bed with you, burying yourself in his hairy chest. He pulls you into him without hesitation, his nose burrowing into your hair and his hand coming up to cradle the back of your head— A sharp contrast to how he was previously handling you. It's…. nice. Soothing away the pain of the numerous sins you’d surely just committed.
You both lay back on the floor, bodies effortlessly curling in around each other. The bed seemed too far away now anyway. He brings the blanket up around you both, but it feels like a useless gesture. His body is all the warmth you need.
You both lay there in silence for possibly eons, letting the electricity in the air settle until you can think clearly— though you’re not sure you’ll ever be able to again. You can’t help but feel like this absolute beast of man has changed everything now. This stranger that you’d rescued and brought into your home has left an eternal mark on your soul. This man you know almost nothing about.
Only a single question comes to mind.
“Who the hell are you, Victor Creed?”
His chest jumps under you with a small huff of a laugh. He lets the question settle in the air for a moment.
just thinking about putting a collar on the SABERTOOTH ..
🍽 ( wolverine's ver )
Where Logan is a tightly wound wire, Victor Creed is a spectacle.
The adamantium collar closing around his thick, corded neck doesn’t make him go quiet. It makes him laugh. A low, dark, rumbling chuckle that vibrates through the floorboards. He wants this. He’s wanted this since the first time he saw you look at him with something other than fear. You’re not afraid of the monster? Good. Then you can be the one to handle him.
He leans into the tightness. The slight blood restriction hits his system like a shot of neat whiskey—immediate, warming, and debilitating. His pupils blow wide. His already-slack mouth goes looser, his lips parting in a permanent, wet grin. He’s bigger than Logan, broader, more openly animalistic. And he’s a show-off.The moment the leash is attached, he presents himself. Not kneeling in humility like Logan, but sprawling across the bed on his back, legs spread, his erection jutting up obscenely from the vee of his open jeans. He doesn’t hide. He can’t. He’s already soaked through the fabric, a dark patch spreading from his navel to his mid-thigh.
“Like what you see, sweetheart?” he purrs, but his voice cracks on the last syllable. The collar is already working. His smugness is a thin veneer over a pit of absolute, desperate need. “Got me on a leash. Gonna do something with it, or just stand there lookin’?”
He’s a brat. A massive, feral brat who needs to be put in his place. But the thing about Victor is that his version of being put in his place is… surrender.
You give the leash a sharp yank, pulling him forward until he’s half-off the bed, his boots scrabbling for purchase on the floor. A growl rips out of him, but it’s not anger. It’s ecstasy. His hips buck wildly, once, twice, and an actual gush of pre-cum spills from his cock, so much of it that it drips down his shaft and pools in the hollow of his navel.
“Oh, fuck,” he groans, throwing his head back, exposing the column of his throat and the tight collar biting into it. “Yeah. Yeah. That’s it. Pull harder. Make it- hmngh- make it hurt a little.”
He’s a slut for sensation. For the edge. The collar being just too tight, the leash being a tether to your absolute authority, it short-circuits every predatory instinct he has. For once, he doesn’t want to hunt. He wants to be caught. He wants to be kept.
He starts to babble. Filthy, broken, desperate things.
“You don’t even know what you do to me.” he snarls, one hand coming down to fist his own cock, squeezing the head until more pre-cum wells up, pearly and thick. He smears it over his palm with a slick, wet sound. “Been thinking about this all day. About you puttin’ a muzzle on my mouth. A collar on my throat. Makin’ me your mutt.”
He says it like it’s the highest compliment.
He gets so whiny. It’s shocking from a man his size. When you stop moving, when you just stand there and watch him squirm, a high, thin keen escapes his throat. He rolls over onto his stomach, presenting his ass in the air, and starts humping the mattress. Frantic, animalistic thrusts, his cock rubbing against the coarse sheets, leaving long, wet trails. He’s drooling into the pillow, open-mouthed and panting, his growls muffled by fabric.
“Don’t make me beg, woman” he grits out, but he’s already begging. “I’ll do it. You know I will. I’ll get on my knees. I’ll lick your boots. I’ll anything. Just- fuck, just use me. Pull the leash. Step on my dick. I don’t care. Just give me something.”
When you relent, when you wrap the leash around your fist and pull him up onto his knees, the collar biting so deep that his face goes a shade redder, a broken sound tears out of him—half growl, half moan. His cock twitches violently, once, twice, and then he’s coming. Not a drizzle. A flood. Rope after rope of hot, thick cum shoots onto the bed, his own chest, his face, he doesn’t even try to aim. He just lets it happen, his whole body convulsing with each pulse, his tongue lolling out of his mouth, his eyes half-closed in a mask of filthy ecstasy.
He slumps forward, catching himself on his elbows, still grinding his oversensitive cock against the wet sheets. A low, continuous purr-growl vibrating from his chest.
“More.” he rasps, licking a stripe of his own cum off his lower lip without thinking. “Chain me to the fuckin’ bed. I don’t care. Just don’t stop. Don’t you dare fucking stop.”
He’s a beast. An unhinged, cum-drenched, collar-choked beast. And the way he looks at you through sweat-stuck hair, with eyes that have forgotten everything except you and the leash in your hand, is pure, worshipful desperation. He’s not Victor Creed, Sabretooth, the killer. He’s just yours. A pathetic, needy, animalistic whore on a leash, begging for another taste of the restraint.
ft. roy harper ; your make out session is interrupted when roy realizes something is missing!
content. MDNI!! fem!reader, suggestive, fluff, body hair, "sugar" and "doll" as pet names, sexual and non sexual bites
bunny thoughts. the roy brainworms caught me </3 this was in my drafts for so long but the hate against roy today motivated me to finish it! Hope you like it @cherryvvave @lechelovestoyap
You lean onto the mattress, one sandal still dangling from your foot as Roy climbs on top of you — shirts long forgotten.
"Why hide it? You know I love hearing your little laughs." It's murmured between your breasts, lingering kisses being left on your bare skin — damp, longing heavy in each one.
"It's stupid!" You retort with the exact giggles he mentioned, ticklish sensations running down your entire torso, echoing the trail of smooches Roy left behind.
"Maybe…" He teases. "But I know you're happy with me then." And your eyes meet as he nestles against your chest; pupils dilated, the most genuine love mirrored in them.
Heat blooms across your face, dancing suddenly on your cheeks like never before. "How charming, Mr. Harper." You tease, fingers sliding through his red hair — a trembling grunt resonates in Roy's throat.
"It's just the truth, doll." It's easier to say when it's the truth, with no lies to trip over.
"Less truth and more action, Harper."
He bites a thicker layer of skin, just beneath your breasts. "Wrong call babe." The bitten flesh is kissed right after, like a wet, not so sincere apology; a mischievous smile brushing against you.
"Less words, sugar." You delight in the plea, purring softly while the brushing of lips continues across your torso, little kisses being left here and there; until they suddenly cease — so abrupt that your eyelids flutter, discomfort growing from not feeling Roy's lips descending on your bare skin anymore.
It's just when he pulls away that you decide to prop yourself up on your elbows, eyebrows furrowed at the weird pokes at your belly.
"Where'd it go?"
You grunt. "Where'd what go, Roy?"
The hands that were smoothing over your curves, squeezing what they could between kisses, now grope your abdomen searching for something, thumbs pressing a line just below your belly button.
"Where's my happy trail?" If it weren't for his fallen gaze and weeping tone, you might even think he was japing, messing with you for removed something as petty as the little hairs that traced a path below your pants. "How am I supposed to find my happy place now?"
"Your happy place?" you mock, smile returning to your lips as Roy — big man, muscles visible beneath so much torn skin, full of untold tales — returns to nestle against your tummy, nose nuzzling the imaginary line of your removed little hairs.
"Yeah, mine; but I guess I can make a new one…"
"Whatever you say—" Your teeth clench, a pang of pain piercing your core. "Holy shit!" You can't help but curse as Roy sinks a bite right above the button of your half-open jeans, his teeth pulling the skin lightly before releasing it in a wet kiss. The sensation is fleet, tingling as he grins against the redness of your skin — flat teeth, leaving their marks behind in a crooked, yet precise, irregular circle.
"A couple more of these and it's perfect. We're back on the right track."
꒰ content ꒱ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ talia al ghul x ex!reader, accidental confession, hurt/no comfort?, yearning, dagger to the throat scene
1.5k follower event
“Honey, I’m home!” you yell, your drunken voice echoing through one of Talia’s many bases. It’s pure luck you remembered this place in your current state. Your feet had a mind of their own as they led you back into your ex's life.
Talia’s going to be ecstatic.
As if on cue, she appears beside you, pink nightgown and all. Even through your blurry vision, you see her.
You beam. "Hi—
The breath is knocked out of your lungs as your back hits the wall. Before you can even comprehend what's happening, silver glints under the lights. A dagger at your throat keeps you still.
Slowly, you tilt your head up. Her narrowed eyes drill holes into your heart. Sober, you would’ve run. But here she is, too close, and all you can think about is how badly you want to kiss her anyway.
"You're beautiful," you slur, leaning forward. The sharp edge of the knife presses harder against your throat.
Her eyes flash with panic. The dagger clatters against the polished floors. She says your name like a swear. "What is wrong with you?!"
“Wanna be closer," you pout.
"You fool," she retorts, watching you through a calculated gaze. "Why are you here?"
Her words are as sharp as her features. Emerald eyes that never soften, lips like something heaven itself carved too carefully. And you keep thinking, pathetically, that maybe under your touch, she would give in.
Stumbling forward, your arms slide around her waist. "Missed 'ya," you mumble.
Her hands awkwardly hover around you, hesitating. "That," she says, unimpressed, "is not nearly a sufficient answer."
You feel all mushy inside, like you want to confess your heart out. After all these years, after all the times she's left. You still want her.
“I love you.” Your words drag on like a noose tightening, and the way Talia breathes in, one would think it had slipped around her throat.
"No," she responds sharply, but she doesn't push you away. Back then, pushing you was all she'd done. Saying it was for your safety. As if you weren't safest in her arms.
"But i do," you argue, lips close to her collarbone. She shivers slightly and peels you off of her.
"We will talk in the morning," she pauses, then slowly brushes some of your hair back. "You are a fool, beloved."
"Your fool?"
Her eyes flicker away. "No." Her hands leave you as if they'd never been there. "Not anymore."
masterlist
why is this kinda sad. i wanted them to reuinite and kiss (i say as if i don’t have full control over the ending) and the dagger scene was inspired by princess mononoke aka my fav ghibli movie <3
nsfw 18+ a lil bit of rough roy harper if you will
Might be typos but oh wellzzzz (> u < )
So. I keep thinking about is Roy literally crushing you with his weight while fucking you like ugh!!! Ur body is ALWAYS gonna be pressed against him or as close as humanly possible to him. If he had the chance to be inside you for all of eternity, he would take it. Immediately. Like in YOUR SKIN. And just be within you forever.. It’s the abandonment issues
Y’all’s sweaty, sticky skin slapping against one anothers while he’s really fucking and pounding into you balls DEEP OK?? He wouldn’t have it any other way. And in all the right spots might I add. He knows your body and all its needs all too well it’s kinda scary ..but also incredibly sexy.… He truly can’t get enough your pussy and how warm you feel around him. He would have his big hand in you on the base of you neck, pushing your face into the bed sheets as you helplessly whine in pleasure. He cant get enough of how every time he praises you for being his good little whore, you clench around him niceee n tighhhhttt while letting out more pathetic muffled moans in the process. He loves how you LOVE this rough shit. Cause he can be rough alright.
“oh fuckkk baby… mmm yeah darlin’ take it, take it like the gooood fucking slut you are...”
each thrust getting stronger and stronger and harder and so damn good FUCK. He would get realllllclose in your ear so you can hear every word he says in that sexy raspy n low fucked out voice of his. Filled of lust, need and hunger.
“ngh.. fuck… y’like when I fuck you into the bed dont you? God ur sucha lil slut yknow that? Hah.. I’m damn near crushing you and your lovin’ it, mhm.. yeah your pussy loves it even more though, don’t she? She’s just milking my cock, suckin’ me in… fuckkk mmm.. Imma give her what she wants baby, mhm.. fill ‘er up reallll good.”
spoiler alert: he’s trying to fuck a baby into you.
Summery: Something about your relationship makes Matt feel a tinge of Catholic Guilt, but that doesn't stop him from loving you.
Themes: Angst -> Smut, Church/Religion Talk, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, L-Bomb, Atheist/Non-Christian Reader, Biting, Choking, Condoms (Wrap it before you tap it!), Crying/Dacryphilia, First time Together, Rough Sex,
Word Count: 1.7k on the dot
18+ NSFW SMUT, MINORS DNI !!!
Matt walked into the church, folding his cane and holding it against his side as he sat in the pew. He leaned forward, hands clasped around the chain of his rosary as he calmed his mind. The church was one of the only placed quiet enough for him to focus. Despite the atmosphere, his mind keeps going back to you. The smell of your hair, the feeling of your skin, the sound of your voice. Every little thing.
He pressed his forehead against his head harder, letting out a grunt. He quickly cleared his throat and started to pray so he can leave, back to the busy streets of Hell's Kitchen where he can think about anything but his interest in one, stupid sin.
As he stood up, he heard footsteps walk towards him, that of Father Lantom. He sighed, knowing that he's going to be coursed into a confession if he speaks too much or too little. He smiled, stopping and allowing Father to walk up to him.
"Something heavy on your soul, Son?" The man asked, even though he knows that's the only time Matt was ever in the church besides Sundays.
"Always, Father. You know, my line of work... and love life." He muttered the last part, getting a smile and soft laugh from the priest.
"Love life? Who's the lucky one?" Lantom asked, putting a hand on Matt's shoulder.
"I wouldn't say 'lucky' just yet. I'm unsure of... the relationship." He murmured, shaking his head. "It's not exactly... a traditional one."
"I see. And what makes you think that, Son?"
"Well, for one, they aren't in the church, and... have no want to be." Matt admits, listening closely for Father Lantom's reaction. A sudden raise in heart rate, silence for a few moments before he lets go of his breath he barely knew he was holding in. Matt smiled.
"Well, that seems like something to talk to the man himself about, yeah?" He finally says before squeezing Matt's shoulder and walking away.
A chuckle leave's his throat as he puts away his rosary and unfolds his cane, swallowing hard as he bad his way out of the church. The thousands of foot steps and voices flooded his four senses, making him tense for just a few moments. He then went on with the rest of his day, till going to your place in the evening.
You opened the door to see Matt, holding red, white and pink roses with slightly flushed cheeks and a goofy smile. "Happy Valentine's Day?" He says, almost questioning it.
"Well, you're a couple days early... and you never asked me." You say, smiling still as you take the flowers from him and inviting him in. He immediately moved to your couch and sat down while you placed the flowers into a glass.
"Oh, well... maybe now I can ask you?" He said, still smiling. He knew you were being sarcastic, of course you'd be his Valentine. "Unless you like someone else." He added quickly, as if he was almost questioning it.
"Matthew," You said, wrapping your arms around his shoulders from behind the couch, laughing before whispering in his ear, "never."
"Really? You sure about that?" He asked, doubting it despite your heart beat saying otherwise. He turned his head towards you, his hand coming up to your cheek. "Sure you wouldn't want a guy like... I don't know..."
"Nope. Nothing can beat Matt Murdock for me, babe." You smiled, hopping over the couch and sitting next to him, his arm immediately wrapping around your waist, pulling you closer.
"Flatterer." He huffed, looking forward. He felt you take off his glasses, your hand turning his head back and pressing a soft kiss to his lips. He tensed, making you do so too.
"Sorry, I- was that-" You stammer before he pulls you back into the kiss, hand on your chin pushing down slightly. You opened your mouth, letting his tongue slip in.
Matt's hands moved down your body slowly before pulling you to straddle his lap. He pulled out of the kiss, slouching back against the couch as you panted, looking down at him, stunned.
"You okay?" He finally asked when you didn't say anything.
"Yeah, yeah, just... admiring the view-" You laughed, kissing the tip of his nose before pressing your forehead against his.
"Don't make me jealous now..." He purred back, smiling wide as he felt your thighs pressing against his own.
"Sorry," You murmured out before kissing him again, sitting harder against his lap on purpose. He moaned against your lips before gripping your hips and standing up.
He made his way to your bedroom, surprisingly well for only doing it a few times before. You squeaked out his name, eliciting his response, "Don't be..."
Matt laid you down gently, his hands rubbing up and down your sides before finally pulling on your shirt, pushing it up and over your head, tracing your skin back down to your waist. "Feeling lucky?" He asked, his lips against yours.
"Hell yeah," you murmured back, kissing him hungrily. You move moaned and hummed against each others lips as he pinned your wrists over your head with one hand and explored your body with the other. He stops and teases you, slowly pushing his fingers under your waistband.
You groaned, you back arching off the bed, "Come on, choirboy. Do something fun for once." You hissed, no real bite behind it except for lust and need.
He laughed, letting go of your wrists to quickly pull down your pants and underwear, exposing you fully. His hands are warm as he spread your legs, pushing his face right against you and licking stripes up and down. Matt mapped every inch of you out with his tongue, memorizing it.
After torturing you for what felt like forever, he stood up, unbuckling his belt and taking off his suit jacket. He loosened his tie as he climbed over you again, "You can take it?"
His words made your eyes widen, making you shiver. "Take it?" You repeated, looking down between you as he freed his red, angry cock. You swallowed hard before laughing nervously. It's not bigger than average, but the girth was more than impressive. "Y-yeah, totally-"
"Say yes, or no." He said calmly, his breathe fanning over your face. You whimpered before agreeing, causing him to push the already leaking tip against your entrance. You gasp prompting him to freeze. "Are you lying?" He grinned, blind eyes staring down at you.
You watched as he grabbed a condom out the inner pocket of his suit, tearing it open and slowly rolling it down his cock, making a show of it.
"M-maybe?" You stuttered, yelping as he pushes in regardless. A hand came up to cup your cheek as he presses his lips against yours in a passionate, hungry kiss.
"Too bad." He finally says, pushing more of his length inside, drawing out a long, almost pained moan from you as he slips further. "Ssh, shh... Breathe." He whispers, kissing your cheeks and jaw, biting softly and sucking on your skin, savoring the taste.
"Mhm- fuck, more-" You nod, panting as he slowly pulls out and pushes further. Your eyes rolled shut as you cried softly, pleasure and pain combining into the best feeling you've had. "M-Matt-"
"Yeah? Crying for me?" He chuckled softly, his lips moving up your face before he licks up a lone tear that escaped your eye. "It's okay, baby. You can take it for me, yeah?"
You nodded, prompting him to push further, balls deep as you both groaned. Time almost froze around you as neither of you moved for a long moment, just breath mingling together.
Matt suddenly, slowly, pulls back and slams back inside, repeating the motion and making you moan out louder each time. Your hole convulsed and pulsed around his cock, making it leak into the condom and twitch. "Good... fuck, such a good hole." He hissed.
His words almost pushed you over the edge, tight around him as you took each thrust better than the last, moaning out and whining as he speed up ever so slightly, more and more until he was pounding you into the mattress.
"M-Matt- Matthew!" You cried out, eyes rolled shut and leaking tears as he fucked you senselessly, rutting harder and faster.
"You said you could take, so you're taking it." He smiled, hand coming around and pressed against your windpipe, squeezing and letting go in rhythm with your breathing. "You like that? I know you do, your throbbing right now."
His actions and worded pushed you over the edge, your release soaking the both of you and your bed. He chuckles, fucking you through your orgasm as he chased his own, the condom filled with pre-cum.
You whined as he thrusts harder, grunting and panting as he fucks you, imprinted the shape of his dick inside you. Even with prolonging your orgasm, he was still fucking you when it subsided. "M-Matt-" You groaned, unsure if you can last much longer.
"Just a little more, just a little more-" He chanted before biting into your shoulder, not hard enough the bleed but defiantly hard enough to bruise for the next few weeks. Before you could think, he pulled out almost all the way before pushing fully inside and gushing out into the condom.
He continue his movement as he came, panting and growling as he tried to make you climax again, which wasn't hard. He just needed a few more thrusts before you popped again, body falling limp against the bed as you spewed out once again.
It wasn't long before Matt followed suit. You don't know exactly how or when you both got under the covers, but he had you in his arms, entire body embracing yours lovingly, exploring every bump and mark on your skin as if trying to commit to memory, which honestly, he was doing.
"Love you." he grunted, tensing as he realized what he said. Your eyes opened, slowly closing as you responded.
"I know."
"You know? No, say it back before I fuck you again-"
