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lovelyghst · 3 months

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craving consensual somno with (slightly intoxicated) simon riley and his (extremely heavy sleeper) girl. take this as ur warnings.

just him coming home late at night as usual, the bourbon in his system keeping him loosened up and tranquil, yet ever so cognizant as he enters your shared bedroom. those familiar creepy-crawlies invading his stomach with boyish excitement to see you, and quickly turning towards his dick when he lays eyes on your pretty body.

it’s nearly a routine at this point; you purposely fall asleep in these skimpy, two-piece pajamas, usually some sort of small berries, cherries, or flowers adorning the thin, white fabric that leaves little to the imagination, knowing it’ll get him all worked up. the curtains are left pulled and the door cracked open, you kick the covers off and lay with a pillow hugged tightly in your arms beneath you to give him the best view; infinite signs telling him you want it just as bad as he does. it is routine, but it gets so him riled up, each and every time.

he trudges over, as quietly as the tipsy man can manage to the end of your bed, and with tunnel-vision on your exposed thighs. even his jaw fallen slack just a bit in hunger. desperate to get his hands on you after being apart for so long, and wanting to soothe that ache in his cock he hadn’t even realized he was palming through his jeans.

you barely stir when he kneels on the foot of the bed, and neither when he crawls above you and places a kiss right behind your ear.

he presses a cold palm to your shoulder, attempting to urge you onto your back to give him a visual of your features. to let him see your curves in the raw moonlight, how the dainty material of your pajamas becomes a tad bit see-through around your tits and incidentally rides up past your bellybutton, endless thoughts running through his dazed mind as he eventually manages to flip you over successfully.

though, your sleepy hum suddenly alerts him to a standstill, his worst nightmare being to wake you from your serene rest. not now, anyway.

“shhh, sweetheart,” he gently coaxes you, and he can’t help the grin spanning his lips when you mumble the first syllable of his name in that questioning, dreamy tone. he clears fallen hair from your face, slipping his pillow from your grasp as he mutters, “yeah, dovie, s’only me. you’re okay, you’re safe… jus’ go back to sleep for me, now.”

your unconscious mind obeys like clockwork, the smallest of smiles curling your lip corners in contentment, and it’s only a matter of seconds before he’s returning to his endeavors.

kissing all across your exposed collarbone, thoughtlessly slipping a finger or two beneath the strap of your little pajama shirt and carefully allowing it to glide down your shoulder as he repeats the process on the other side. peppering kisses to your soft skin, before rolling the fabric upward from the bottom so he can properly pay attention to the rest of your chest and tummy.

lips grazing your sternum with short, controlled breaths fanning your sensitive parts; aware of how easily ticklish you are and attempting not to light that fuse, equally straining himself in not turning too feverish as he takes your hardened nipple in his mouth and paws at the other in his hand.

he works his way down slowly but surely, until he’s pulling your shorts off with tender hands and unveiling your bare, soaked pussy, and he can’t even think to suppress the low groan pushed from his lungs at the sight in front of him. he inches forward with nearly crossed eyes, taking incisive ministrations in lifting your legs up and over his back.

your breathing hitches a bit in your slumber when he licks an almost reluctant yet long stripe from your hole to your clit, unable to give himself a moment to savor it before he’s diving back in for more.

“missed this pretty, little cunt on my tongue, baby… christ,” he chuckles lightly to himself, “good girl’s gonna be the death o’ me.”

he sloppily makes-out with your pussy, any and all devotions of rhythm and precision thrown far from his intentions. he only gets to be selfish when he has you like this, and he’d be damned if he doesn’t take advantage of the opportunity as it’s laid out on his bed. moaning at your wetness and taste, how your pussy drools for more and coats his chin with a slick he devours like a madman deprived.

the small whines you make in your sleep are nothing but precious to simon, burning them into his brain like any other occasion he’s pulled them from your lips. saving them for the later times like when he’s a thousand miles away, locked away in some office, and can’t possibly bring himself to bother you with a pestering, horny phone call.

you turn your head to the side with a hum, empty hands reaching for any semblance of comfort on your abdomen, which rather concerns him for a moment until he realizes just what you want.

he gives you one of his hands and you blindly accept it, wrapping your smaller fingers around his wrist and thumb to pull the appendage closer. resting just below your ribcage, satisfied and holding it close like you would a teddy bear.

“sweet thing… always loved this perfect pussy,” he mumbles right up against your warmth, quiet as to not disrupt your blissful obliviousness in your sleep. he’s utterly drunk on you and your taste, and the alcohol he had beforehand certainly contributes to his filthy, forward language.

“how easy y’get on my mouth, ‘nd yet how tight you are around my cock… fuckin’ hell—”

he watches intently as the tips of his fingers delve between your folds, gradually disappearing whilst your chest begins to heave a little heavier; a faint, broken noise of pleasure omitting straight from your throat. tightening around his digits as he pushes them further in, just as you do wrapped around his cock when you’re conscious.

he’s not thinking straight; he’s merely experimenting with you as he curls his fingers upward, prodding at that gummy spot in your cunt and greedily sucking on your clit to push you over. toying with you, rather, because the face you make when you’re first emerged from your slumber with a mind-shattering orgasm is truly priceless.

your eyes snap open as you come around his digits, squeezing his hands tight with your vision going blank. the high is strong but you don’t allow it to last very long when the dots in your brain are connecting, turning you all excited for the implications of it all.

erratically catching your breath with a huge grin on your face, matching his as he comes up to greet you. he’s stupid, shamelessly drunk on your taste, and it radiates from his expression as if he just witnessed a star being born right before his muddy eyes.

you haven’t a clue what just happened, but you fucking loved every sober second of it.

and before you know it, he’s coming back up to meet your lips with his own, which you graciously accept, taste of slick and alcohol and all. humming as he slips his greedy hands upward and behind your back, giggling when he impatiently flips over on his back and hauls you with him. til you’re curled up by his side, halfway on his chest whilst one leg slips between both of his bulky ones.

“i‘m glad you’re home…” nearly a pout, “really missed you, si.”

you’re the first one to speak, quietly, sincere as ever as you examine his pretty face. the faint bags beneath his lids, the wetness that sticks to his dirty-blond stubble. his rough and gruff exterior that hides behind it a boy who’s absolutely and utterly whipped for you.

“that right?” he taunts, eyes remaining shut. “and my tongue, i bet?”

you shy away with a laugh. he won’t remember these words in the morning, but you’ve always loved how cocky and brazen he gets with a couple of drinks running through his blood.

“i missed all of you...”

his eyes barely have to open for him to effectively, and lovingly, judge you with a mere glance. it’s one of his talents.

“some parts more than others, clearly.”

“that’s not true,” you contest, but the humorous hesitancy and sheepishness in your voice tells him otherwise.

“sure, baby, sure.” he takes a moment to breathe, overtly proud of himself. “y’missed my mouth, n’ my hands. even with how rough they are with ya sometimes, yeah?” you hide your flushed face in his neck with a groan, praying this embarrassment is short-lived though preparing for the worst as you feel his lips inch closer to your ear.

“prob’ly missed me fuckin’ my cock into that tight, little cunt—”

“okay, fine!” you finally admit and pull away defensively, slapping his chest but only earning a laugh from him. “but i definitely don’t miss that dirty brain of yours, you big dog.”

“you love me anyway,” he states, matter-of-factly.

you give a big smooch to his forehead, then the bridge of his nose, and then down to his lips, which he returns.

“i do. a lot,” you add and he hums, feeling fulfilled.

and, oh, he’s so fulfilled with you. you take care of him by allowing him to take care of you, and it’s a two-way street. you ground each other whilst never forcing one to tether themself to earth.

you sit up to fix your top, smoothing over the fabric and shrugging the straps back into place. shimmying back into your shorts when you catch a glimpse of the large man’s dark jeans contrasting your light sheets, belt buckle glimmering in the corner of your eye.

“simon, honey, you need to change before you—”

you look over and are suddenly forced to stifle a giggle when you discover that the poor man has fallen asleep, a droopy smile still ornamenting his slick-covered face. taking your hand and swiping the apple of his cheek with your thumb, you’re pleased when he doesn’t budge one bit. dragging it downwards past his muscled chest and abdomen, landing just beneath his leather belt.

your fingertips trace his hard-on over the jeans, knowing you can’t just leave him like this, all aching and pent up and too exhausted to do anything about it himself.

maybe you could do him a favor and return the sweet gesture? <3

#i got carried away #cod mw #simon riley #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x female reader #ghost x female reader #simon riley smut #ghost smut

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jyoongim · 23 days

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Hey, so I LOVED your Alastor x doe reader with synced heat/rut fanfic! I was just wondering if maybe we could get some aftercare? Like say, Al is all smitten now that he's calmed down and just cooes over her plush body, yknow, just regular malewife material :)

THANK YOUUUUUUU X <3

Read this one first!!

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You woke up with a groan.��

Your body was sore all over.

You blinked, trying to gauge your surroundings.

You were in your room.

You no longer had that burning need to be fucked and filled.

Your heat had been sated.

You stretched and winced, feeling the stickiness of cum between your legs. You rolled over in your nest, finding the space occupied.

A surprised squeak left your lips when large hands pulled you into a warm mass.

”Good morning my doe” a raspy voice said, sharp teeth nipping at your shoulder.

Alastor!

You purred as the demon pressed soft kisses along your neck and shoulder, snuggling into him. You blushed remembering the night event before

“O-oh good morning” you said softly looking up at the deer.

You and Alastor had mated.

He mated with you…

Satan!

He nestled his head in the crook of your neck, chest rumbling in a purr “How are you feeling?”

Sore. Thats how you were feeling but you felt happy and filled with dopamine.

”better. T-thank you for…for last night” you averted your gaze to his chest flush, fingers twirling.

He hummed “it was my pleasure dear. You were such a good girl”

You realized you were naked and went to cover yourself, but Alastor stopped you “Theres no need to hide yourself. I am your mate, there’s no need for modesty in the nest”

Your ears perked as you blinked at him “You dont mind being mated to me?” Your heart was fluttering.

He let out a chuckle “Of course not! You have no idea how long I’ve waited to bed you. I admit i would have preferred courting methods but here we are all the same”

His eyes looked over your body, marred with marks and bruises from your rutting.

Your belly grumbled and you blushed. He smirked “hungry?” You nodded and watched as he heaved himself up and walked to your closet.

Towels. He snapped his fingers and a tub of water appeared.

He gathered you in his arms, settling you in his lap as he washed you. Rinsing you of dried cum and blood. You saw his eyes light up seeing your cunt drip with his cum.

Once you were clean, clean pajamas were on your body and a hot plate of food appeared.

Fruits and water.

You happily grabbed the fruits and munched as Alastor massaged the knots out your body.

You pierced a berry with your claw and held it to his lips.

”You need to eat too” you said sweetly, making the overlord smile and wrap his lips around the fruit and your finger.

Once the plate was empty he snapped his fingers and it disappeared and his normal attire manifested on his person.

He set you on your bed and you watched as he cleaned up your room, discarding your ruined bedding and cleaning your nest.

You giggled when his shadow wrapped around you, cooing at you.

”Why dont you rest for the remainder of the day my dear? You took a lot last night” Alastor scratched your head as he tucked you into bed. You pouted, usually you opted for fresh air, but you were still very tired.

You nodded “Won’t you stay?” Your big doe eyes looked at him. Alastor smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to your pouty lips “Ill be back doe. Dont worry your pretty head. Just rest until I come back”

Your eyes grew heavy and you snuggled in your bed. Alastor’s shadow stayed behind, eerily chirping and cooing quietly as it watched over you.

————————————————————————————-

Alastor smiled softly as you snored.

His eyes raked over you.

You were beautiful.

His beautiful doe.

His beautiful mate.

Your fur had adapted some of his colorings, streaks of red blending in your natural coloring.

He never thought he would mate with another demon, but he was happy to be bonded to you.

He had moved all your things to his room and had prepared a nice warm bubble bath for you.

Unlike him, does typically needed more care after a rough heat. So he took it upon himself to make sure you were pampered and rested.

After all…

You were stuck with him forever…might as well get comfortable with with spoiling you at any given chance.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #alastor #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor x reader #jyoongim #alastor the radio demon #alastor x y/n #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor smut

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teddiesworldd · 1 month

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after the world ends.

ghost finds you out in the woods during a zombie outbreak and falls in love with you. (2.6K words) read part 2 here!!!

a/n: this idea has been on my mind for a while and it was so sweet i just had to write it down and share it with you <3 also, if you'd like to be added to a taglist, let me know!

pairing: simon ghost riley x female reader

tags/warnings: nsfw, mdni!!, apocalypse au, mentions of weapons, killing (zombies), survival situation, unprotected p in v sex, cute fluffy stuff in the middle of a zombie apocalypse because why not?!, soap makes an appearance

day 17 of the apocalypse, 3 weeks after the first outbreak.

you had lasted this long purely by camping out in the back of your car, driving somewhere more remote to avoid the infected and rationing whatever you'd managed to bring in from your kitchen at the beginning of it all. but as supplies got low and you were down to your last water bottle, you were forced to venture out into the nearby woodland, gathering whatever you could forage from the streams and bushes. you knew absolutely nothing about surviving out here. you couldn’t hunt and could barely light a fire. the first day of winter was in less than a month and you had no real shelter to keep you warm. you had no idea which berries were safe to eat or how to filter water. all you had was your kitchen silverware for protection and your best winter jacket for the weather.

you’d last about 2 weeks out here at best, and that’s without the fucking zombies.

you'd been walking for about an hour since leaving your car, and to be honest, you didn’t think you could find your way back now. everything looked the same. you had found only a pocketful of what you could only guess was edible, and a protein bar from the pocket of a dead guy’s jeans. every single noise scared the hell out of you. and the bite marks on his neck raised your adrenaline tenfold.

thud. thud. snap.

footsteps. sticks breaking underfoot.

“who’s there?” you called out. “i’m- i’m serious, come any closer and… and… i’ll kill you!”, shouting now, cold hand gripping your rusted kitchen knife tightly.

you saw a huge figure behind the trunk of a nearby tree, and he chuckled lowly at your brave attempt to scare him away. “you don’t scare me, sweetheart”, the voice said, deep and rough, walking out from behind the tree, “thought y'were a rabbit or something - cute lil' thing, rustling in those bushes. and if i was infected, you’d be dead by now, with a mouth on you like that.”

he was an absolute giant of a man, 6 and a half foot at least and built like a brick shithouse. he was in full military gear, skull mask over his face, armed with a rifle in hand and knives strapped to his chest and belt. he approached you slowly, palms facing you like he was trying not to spook a stray cat. part of you wondered if you were hallucinating - you'd not been sleeping well from the nightmares of the infected night after night.

“no use shouting, anyway - they’ll find you straight away making all that noise.” he continued, leaves crunching under his black boots, walking closer, “what’s a girl like you doing out 'ere, all alone?”

you were frozen in place, like a deer in headlights. he was already intimidating as fuck without the massive armoury hanging round his waist, but now he was so close you could feel his breath on your face. a thought crossed your mind that if he tried to kill you now, there would be absolutely nothing you could do to stop him. it made a shiver run down your back.

his gloved hand reached out to hold your chin. you looked up at him, eyes welling up from the pure fear that ran through you.

“lost?” he said quietly, tilting his head to get a proper look at you.

you nodded slowly.

“well, you won’t get far with that old thing, love” he smirked through the mask, eyeing the blade in your hand. “here, i’ll take you back to camp with me, make you a proper meal, yeah? when did you eat last?”

you engaged in some light small talk on the way, finding out he was called “ghost” and he used to serve in a special operations unit for a private military company. i guess it made sense that the best survivors would be the soldiers. you mentioned how you’d been living in your car for the past two weeks, which seemed to amuse him. he probably thought you were just some dumb girl who’d somehow managed to scrape through until now.

he wasn’t wrong, really.

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

his camp was much nicer than the back of your car.

it wasn't far from where he'd found you. they had lots of weapons and food and beds. and people. there must of been about 10 men in total. the infected weren’t really an issue with their impressive arsenal. there was a large fence surrounding the camp and the men took it in turns to kill anything that tried getting inside. it was pretty clear that ghost was closest to one of the other ex-military guys called "soap". they sat together when they ate and stayed up late at night talking together around the fire - matching dog tags glinting in the dim light. you often watched them through your tent door - enjoying their company but not wanting to interrupt their conversation. you listened as they talked deeply, recounting their time serving together, telling stories of bravery and bloodshed. it became your routine to fall asleep listening to them.

after about 3 or 4 weeks, following the first snowfall, you’d adjusted to life in the camp. soap had taught you a few things and often spent the mornings taking you hunting or showing you how to use the guns - a hand on your waist as he lined you up for the kill shot. he had a sweet nature and silly charm to him, telling you ridiculous jokes that only made you laugh because they were so stupid. you would never tell him that though - he thought you found him hilarious.

however, it was ghost you’d grown closest to, giving you anything and everything you needed. he was mysterious and that drew you to him. one time, he took you down to the river to wash the cookware and yourselves, and you'd caught a glimpse of him pulling off his clothes and mask, blonde hair and muscles seeing the light of day. you couldn't deny it - he was gorgeous.

he often checked on you in the evenings, making sure you’d settled in okay. he sat next to your bed, running a gloved hand over your hair, rubbing small circles into your scalp.

“you like the boys?” he’d ask, “they treating you okay?”

and you’d nod, just like you’d do every night.

“not scared, are you, doll?”

you shook your head.

“good. just making sure.”

and with that, he’d leave, heading to his own tent to rest, or out to guard the fence.

but one night, before he got up to get some sleep, you grabbed his hand. he looked back at you, dark eyes watching yours.

“stay?” you whispered.

and he did, without a word. stripping off his heavy gear and perching next to you in bed, rough camo trousers scratching against your bare shoulder.

and he stayed, just like you asked. watching over you like a dog and keeping you safe.

sometime in the night, you’d turned to face him where he sat, resting an arm over his thigh. but he didn’t push you off. he just let you rest - your warm breath causing a dampness throughout the tent.

it was only when the winter sunlight streamed through the tent that you realised he really did stay - all night. you opened your eyes to see he’d settled in next to you, his sleeping body alongside yours in the small camp bed, your arm still around him.

and when you tried to pull yourself away out of embarrassment, he pulled it back, keeping it over his chest.

“for warmth, yeah?” he said quietly, voice all deep and sleepy.

and how could you argue with that? these were trying times, after all.

after a moment's silence, he said “you’re a pretty thing, love. always thought so, even when i first met you and you were all scared and dirty.” he continued, heavy eyes looking down at your vulnerable form. “soap thinks so too, but you’re mine, yeah? i found you - you’re mine.”

there was something about the possessive glint in his eye that showed you he really meant it - his gaze trailing down from your face to your uncovered hips that had shuffled out the sheets in your sleep.

"cm'ere" he said, taking your arm in his grasp and pulling you towards him. "i mean it, love. do you wan' to be mine?" eyes watching your face to see how you'd react to his question. your faces were close now, closer than they'd ever been. he'd looked after you so nicely, giving you everything you needed, protecting you from harm all this time. you couldn't help but agree with him. how could anyone not fall for this attractive man who cared for you so much? and the feeling of his chest under your hand made you fall for him even harder.

"yeah," you whispered against his masked face "...yours."

your small hand reached up to reveal his lips under his mask. he pulled you in, kissing you softly. it was short but there was so much behind it. you could tell he wanted more but he was holding back. he didn't want to accidentally push you away by moving too fast. he pulled back to look at you, hands cupping your soft face, which was still clouded with sleep.

"you're so beautiful, you know that?" he spoke so softly now. it was like the walls he'd put up had fell instantly. he just wanted a moment to be yours. no one else's. not the camp's cook or the guard or the hunter. just yours and nothing else.

you pulled yourself back to his face, kissing him again but soon moving your lips down to kiss his chin, and then his neck. but you didn't get far before he stopped you.

"no, no, love. let me take care of you - you deserve it." he said, turning you around so you were on your back, head resting on your plush pillow as his touch relaxed you.

it was almost as if for just a moment, you weren't in the middle of a fucking nightmare. you were at home, in your own bed. maybe you'd met him at work or out on a date - anywhere that wasn't in a forest full of zombies. and he'd taken you out for dinner a few times and you'd decided he was sweet enough to be kissing down your body, rolling his tongue over your nipples.

but here you were, in a camp full of strangers, being transported by this man who you barely knew, covered only by the walls of a thin tent. but it just felt so right to let him take you like this. you trusted him with your life. and in return he worked your body like magic. his touch was so gentle - yet his skin was so rough compared to your own.

"you want me inside you, baby?" he spoke to you so softly, having kissed down to the top of your underwear now. his eyes watched you, waiting for your permission to carry on.

"please," you replied, "i want you."

that was all he needed to hear. he pulled off his shirt and your underwear, tossing them both to the side. he admired your body shamelessly, eyes tracing the outline of your waist and your body. you couldn't help but do the same, entranced by the way his muscles practically glowed in the light that came through the tent. he was built like a rugby player, pure muscle but with a good layer of fat on top to smooth everything out. you watched as he unbuttoned his pants and pulled out his cock.

he was huge. you knew he was a big guy but you weren't expecting it to apply to all of him. it was definitely bigger than anyone you'd ever been with. his tip was an angry shade of red from how hard he was, precum running down his shaft. noticing the expression on your face, he reassured you.

"don't worry, i'll be gentle with you."

he lined himself up with your entrance, your wetness being enough to allow himself to push slowly inside. it stretched you more than you ever had been, causing you to hiss as it dipped inside you. he bent forward down to kiss you sweetly, silencing your pained noises, shushing you each time his lips left yours. he continued to move in until he bottomed out inside of you.

"you okay?" he grunted, "tell me when to move, love."

you paused for a moment, adjusting to his size before nodding to let him know he could start moving.

he didn't fuck like you expected him to. you thought a guy like him would be railing you like an animal, but no. he made love to you, his slow but deep thrusts hitting all the perfect spots in your gummy walls. it was pure bliss, and he thought so too, struggling to keep back his grunts each time he thrust into you.

"fucckkkk baby," he'd say, dog tag hanging down as he fucked you, "your pussy is so tight, gripping me so good". he hooked your legs behind his back and moved his big hands onto your hips to hold you in place. " is it good for you too, doll? you look so pretty with that fucked-out look on your face." he went on, smirking at you like he was proud of his work.

you couldn't even form words, let alone piece together a decent response. he felt amazing, pulling all the way out so only his tip was inside of you and then pushing all the way back in again, until you were an absolute drooling mess, jaw slack and whining on his cock. and just when you thought it couldn't get any better, he moved his hand between your legs and rubbed lazy circles on your clit with his thumb. almost instantly your pussy started pulsing around him - with you blubbering out incoherent swears and moans - having sent you completely over the edge in a matter of minutes. he wasn't far away either - your clenching making his hips stutter back and forth as he helped you ride through your orgasm. you could of swore you were seeing stars by the time he pulled out of you and came over your stomach with a moan, pressing his forehead to yours.

it took you both a few minutes to come back down again, giggling and kissing his lips once more. your arms found their way around his neck, holding him close to you. you were both a panting mess, clothes discarded across the tent floor and the scent of sex heavy in the air.

"my girl- you're gorgeous," he managed to huff out, catching his breath. " 'm never getting over you."

when news broke that a zombie apocalypse was spreading, you had no idea it would lead to this hunk of a man in bed with you - spoiling you and loving you like this. you weren't complaining, though. not at all. at least something good came from it.

he cleaned you up so carefully, being sure not to press too hard on your sensitive body. and when he'd made sure you were okay, he brought you something to eat and led down with you, stroking up and down on your back, drawing shapes and letters on your skin. part of you couldn't believe this was the same guy who you watched shoot a zombie in the face through the fence the other day. his hands were so gentle, always cautious not to hurt you under his touch.

and as your eyes grew heavy again, revelling in his embrace, you heard him say something into your skin.

"simon," he said quietly, face buried in your neck. "my real name's simon."

˚✧. thank you for reading!

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˚✧. dividers by @ saradika-graphics and @ si-eunnis

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#simon ghost riley #ghost smut #cod mw2 #simon riley #simon riley smut #simon riley x reader #call of duty #cod modern warfare #task force 141 #ghost x reader #cod fanfic #call of duty smut #teddiesworldd

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mypoisonedvine · 9 months

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𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 || dark!jonathan crane x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 || since you're the only one of his coworkers at arkham who doesn't seem to be intimidated by his intelligence, jonathan decides it's time he finds out what does scare you... and how he can embody it. unfortunately for you, turning into your greatest nightmare doesn't prove very difficult for him.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 || 5.5k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 || EXTREME AND EXPLICIT NONCON (18+ only and please proceed with caution), drugging and kidnapping, paralysis, traumatized reader, forced orgasms/overstimulation, degradation, humiliation, choking, slapping, unprotected sex/breeding, misogyny, jonathan is very much in character which means he is incredibly evil and has incel vibes (I know y'all are not about to get mad at me for writing a villain being a villain and not uwu babifying him...)

When you interrupted and corrected your colleague, Dr. Crane, about the correct combination of pharmaceuticals for a certain schizophrenic patient in the asylum who happened to have diabetes, you thought nothing of it. After all, the whole point of staff meetings was to discuss and debate these things, and you weren’t about to let him damn-near poison a patient by giving him something that would interfere with his insulin. You weren’t trying to be snarky about it, but you did sort of make a joke about how dangerous his suggestion was— and you didn’t notice the way Jonathan’s nostrils flared and jaw tightened when some others chuckled at what you said.

When you received an email from your therapist’s office informing you that there was evidence of a break-in in her building, but that the police were unable to officially determine if confidential client files were compromised, you thought nothing of it. It was a big complex, these things happen, and you knew from being a clinician yourself how tricky the laws could be surrounding that stuff: she had to email you, legally, if there was any chance your file could’ve been accessed, and that didn’t mean you had any reason to fear your private therapy session notes had been read. Besides, who would want to read about you and your boring life, diving into your mundane hopes and fears and daily stresses?

And when Crane came into the office with tea for you, you thought nothing of it. Sure, you seemed surprised when he popped into your office with cups in hand— you asked him why he had two cups of tea, assuming they were both for himself, and he laughed. Just that was out of character, he wasn’t much of a chucklehead or anything. “Green tea, right? With lime and honey?” he asked, setting one cup down for you. You were still taken aback, but you had to admit defeat.

“Yeah,” you said, taking the cup as he sat down across the desk from you. “Yeah, that’s my order— I didn’t know you drank tea.”

“Sometimes,” he informed you, hoping his poker face was holding up as he watched you take a sip. He couldn’t help but stare at your lips wrapping around the little hole in the lid, the print of berry-red your lipstick left behind. His heart was racing already, more than he expected.

When you finished the first sip, you smiled at him and let out a small, nervous laugh. “Thank you,” you finally said. So, yes, even though you clearly noticed this was slightly odd behavior, you thought nothing of drinking the tea. That was one thing he hated about you: the thoughtlessness. You didn’t seem to second-guess yourself much, if anything you were a little on the cocky side. He found it so irritating— that confidence. Sure, you were smart and you deserved to take yourself somewhat seriously, but the way you walked around this place— the way you ignored him so easily, or spoke over him if you wanted to, or ignored his suggestions when he gave them… you were a bitch, basically. You clearly thought you were better than him— better than everybody else— for no reason at all. Just because you were pretty and had a good job you thought you could get away with anything, surely; pretty girls always think that way.

He made casual conversation with you as you sipped the tea, asking questions he already knew the answer to, hoping to catch you in a lie. For the most part, your stories matched up with what he’d learned from that file. But, you left out the gory details— you left out the best parts, really.

You mentioned where you went to medical school and that you transferred mid-way through due to ‘stress’, but you didn’t elaborate on what really happened to you. You mentioned having your own therapist— something you said passionately that every client-facing mental health professional should have— but left out what you were actually being treated for, not to mention the PTSD diagnosis.

He had to hide his smirk behind the paper cup every time you seemed to lose your train of thought— it wasn’t like you, so focused and determined all the time. No, it was the drugs finally kicking in. You went for bigger gulps of tea each time your eyes looked heavier, hoping the caffeine would work— but the trace caffeine in your green tea was nothing compared to what he’d added.

You tried to warn him that you were suddenly not feel up to par— that he needed to leave, and you might try to wake yourself up— but he just sat and waited. He watched you try to get up, and lose your balance. He watched you stumble, trip, and ultimately fall onto the floor limply. He watched your eyes flutter shut and the final ounce of energy to fight it fade; he quietly took a final sip of his tea.

You woke up on the floor. You could barely feel it beneath you, but you knew it was the floor— it was cold, and hard. And you were looking up at the dark ceiling, at the fan spinning at the lowest speed; so you were definitely on the floor.

Jonathan was standing above you, not too far off, flipping through papers. You couldn’t move— no matter how hard you fought to, you couldn’t. You barely managed to turn your head, but it felt more like it rolled to the side on its own. You tried to yell for Dr. Crane’s attention, for help, for him to explain what happened to you, but even your mouth couldn’t move. The best you could do was breathe harder— actually, you were pretty sure your body was trying to hyperventilate, but you were too incapacitated to even have a proper panic attack.

He heard you, though; he looked away from the papers and grinned down at you. “Comfortable down there?”

You started to put together a few things. One, that the last thing you remembered was being in your office, and now you were in your apartment. Two, that those papers were photoscans of chart notes— obviously you couldn’t make out the words from here, but the format gave away that it must have to do with a patient.

And three, that Crane was neither surprised that you were paralyzed on the floor, nor interested in helping you.

He half-rolled the papers in one hand and playfully hit the other hand’s palm with them. “These have been quite interesting… revealing, to say the least,” he informed you, like it was a compliment— something you should be proud to hear. “You’re quite the enigma, Doc!”

He sat down beside you on the floor, leaning on his hand first to find his balance with a little sigh; he seemed amused, actually, and your heart began to race.

As he started to read aloud from the page in front of him, you felt nauseous. He was reading patient data, describing a client who was receiving individual counseling— or that’s what the CPT code indicated, at least. As he listed the client’s demographic data— age, race, gender, height, weight— it became eerily obvious what he was doing. You refused to believe it until he went on: “Client was recommended to Dr. Min Zhang for individual therapy concerning PTSD following sexual trauma.”

Your therapist. This was a file he’d copied, which belonged to your therapist. And it was obvious whose file it was.

As you tried with all your might to scream, Jonathan flipped a few pages ahead.

“Session fourteen, eleventh of June,” he continued. “Client expressed frustration with an increased recurrence of nightmares and flashbacks to her assault. Up until now, she has struggled to explain what triggers her anxiety without having to actually elaborate on the circumstances of the event.”

He stopped, but you weren’t exactly relieved. In fact, you were horrified. He had a little grin on his face when he looked at you, but you could finally see the rage in his eyes. Suddenly, you realized how long it had been there. You had sort of picked up on it before, the resentment he had towards you— and it didn’t take a Freudian expert to figure out that he was threatened by you, especially as a man. He didn’t respond well to feeling upstaged and he clearly had an issue with women. Maybe not that issue— he was good-looking and well-off, he didn’t need to have any issues with women if he didn’t want to— but an issue nonetheless.

“Now,” he added, smiling wider than you’d ever seen him smile before, “client states she is ready to describe the incident in full detail.”

He set the papers aside for a second, leaning over you and almost looking… giddy, really.

“I won’t read you the rest, I’ve already pretty much memorized what goes on from there. It was fascinating— seeing how what happened that night connected to the fears you still have today… the nightmares. You said that you still feel sick at the smell of alcohol, you still don’t like to wear pinstripe skirts, and even just the wrong few words can make you feel like you’re right back there where it happened— on the floor of your apartment.”

All you could do was look up at him, and you felt your eyes get hot as they welled with tears.

“Not this apartment, obviously— the one by your old school,” Jonathan sighed, “but this will have to do. And the smell of alcohol, well, I wouldn’t want to let anything cloud my experience— but I dabbed a little gin on my wrists, what do you think?”

He held his hand up by your face, caressing your cheek for a second, and you imagined yourself pulling away— turning your head and shrugging his touch off of you with a grimace. But nothing happened, of course, and you were entirely helpless as the acidic stench of liquor became apparent. You couldn’t give your typical outward reaction of a frown, but inside, you felt just the same as always: your stomach twisted, your heart pounded, your head swirled.

“Smell is such a… primal trigger of memory, isn’t it?” he mused, watching your face reverently. “I can see it in your eyes, it’s affecting you even more than I expected. You act so fearless at work— but I knew you must have been overcompensating. God, you’re terrified— I would say you’re paralyzed, but, well… it would be too literal, I think.”

You knew that Crane studied fear and phobias, even trauma occasionally, as a personal interest within the field. It was normal to have a favorite subtopic, and to conduct related research on it— but obviously, this was far from normal, this was absolutely deranged. You knew that part of this was vengeance, in his own mind at least, but you didn't feel like you'd done anything actually wrong to him. And the rest of it, well, it seemed like some twisted experiment, but if you were able to speak you would've tried to remind him that this 'research' wasn't going to get him published or advance his career— but of course, that wasn't what he wanted. He just wanted to humiliate you.

“I was worried I didn’t have enough to work with, you know,” he added. “I knew I couldn’t get you to where it happened, if I could even figure it out since you never filed that police report… and the skirt, well, I considered it. It sounded pretty exciting to dress you up like the night it happened— what I would give to know everything you were wearing that night, but I don’t have a ton to work with. Obviously, you don’t own any pinstripe skirts anymore, so I would’ve had to buy one… and I wasn’t quite ready for the looks I’d get shopping at Macy’s, so…”

Carefully, he reached up to take off his glasses, folding them and setting them down on your coffee table.

“You know how detail-oriented I am— I mean, I went to all this, didn’t I?” He continued, reaching down and brushing his fingers for a moment over your leg. It was so instinctive to pull away that it took you a moment to realize you hadn’t… because of course, you couldn’t. “But it’s impossible to recreate it all perfectly. Clearly, I don’t need to— if only you could see it, Doc, you look… you look so weak. Pathetic.”

Since the only thing you could do was look around, you tried to look away— to not give him the satisfaction of seeing the terror in your eyes. He grabbed your face and turned it until you looked up at him.

“Did you think you’d be able to face your greatest fear? Perhaps with a bit more dignity?” he mused. He looked different without the glasses on; and, ironically, you felt like he could see you even better now.

It was obvious that he enjoyed lording complete power over you, but a quick glance down to his suit trousers made it clear just how much he enjoyed it. You quickly darted your gaze away, but it was too late; he started to climb on top of you, staring at your face uncomfortably close, and worked on opening his belt and fly.

“Fear rules us all, doesn’t it? Everything you did, it was guided by your fear that it would— well, why paraphrase? Let me find exactly how you put it…”

He picked up the papers again quickly, licking his thumb and flipping around until he found the right entry.

“Yes,” he said, “here it is: client states she lives in almost constant fear that it will happen again.”

So that's what this was: his disturbed take on exposure therapy.

As he tossed the copied charts away for the last time and reached up under your skirt, he leaned down and whispered in your ear— and you couldn’t even flinch from the harsh sounds of his words. “It took you over fifty sessions to admit it,” he recalled, “to tell her the whole truth. Not just what he did to you… what you did.”

With a small growl, he yanked your panties down your legs and rubbed your thighs with far too much aggression, such that you expected bruises from his hands— just like the ones you’d had before.

“You said he made you do it,” he continued, “you couldn’t help it, right? But you said nothing’s ever felt like that— that you’d never had such a powerful orgasm.”

You would’ve vomited, except that that, too, requires your muscles to not be paralyzed. Rolling your skirt up and spreading your legs, he positioned himself right between them, rubbing his cock's leaking head around your hole.

“Your greatest fear isn’t really that it’ll happen again, is it?” Jonathan taunted. “You’re afraid someone’s going to find out how much you liked it.”

With that, he punched his hips forward and speared you on his cock.

It had been years since you'd had anything inside you, even your own fingers. You couldn't even remember if being penetrated hurt like this during your assault, and you would've sworn before that you remembered every detail perfectly. But this was so real, not a memory or a nightmare. You couldn't cry out from the sting.

"God, it's tight," he groaned, "I bet you weren't this tight when it happened— you'd been whoring around, hadn't you? Letting all kinds of guys use you… just ran into the wrong one and got your drink spiked. But now…"

He hissed through his teeth, tightening his grip on your hip.

"Now it's all mine, isn't it?"

Inside, you were screaming and kicking and pleading for mercy. You imagined you would be angry and violent, beat him to death with your heel or something, but you wondered if you'd be forced to bargain with him— apologize for whatever you did to upset him, promise you wouldn't tell a soul about this as long as he left you alone. But either way, it didn't matter… on the outside, you were useless, laying there and letting him use you.

"What made you come so much before? Did he have a big cock, is that it?” he asked with a snarl. “Did he know exactly how to touch you? Or was it just that you’d been craving it, needed it really rough to get off properly? Is that why you came while he raped you?”

It was a biological response, you told yourself like you had over and over, I couldn't help it, it wasn't my fault, it was a biological response— it wasn't my fault, I didn't like it, it was a biological response.

“I think I know what it is,” he mused, looking down at you with heavy eyes and almost purring as he watched your limp form bounce on the floor. “I think you wanted to be put in your place. You act so liberated, so empowered— but you’re a creature of instinct, like anything else. You need someone to remind you how weak you are, I know, fuck, I know you do…”

He fucked you just a bit faster, grunting and tightening his fist on the floor by your head.

“You haven’t been able to have an orgasm at all, since then,” he stated— almost making it like a question, with the way he said it, but he obviously already knew it was true. He sounded shockingly sympathetic— not even pitying, not condescending, for once. “I’m sure for a while you didn’t even try, afraid it would remind you— but that’s the thing, you can’t finish unless you’re reminded.”

You almost surprised yourself when you heard a whine come from your throat; he smiled proudly.

"It's wearing off, I think," he noticed. "I only gave you a small dose. Can you move at all? Can you beg me to stop?"

You opened your mouth to try to say everything you'd wanted to since you awoke, but all that came out was a moan. You hated yourself for that, and he laughed happily.

"You don't want me to stop," he decided. "Feels too good?"

I fucking hate you, you wanted to scream, you sick son of a bitch, I fucking hate you—

"You didn't say it outright, but he must have said something to you— during, maybe after," Jonathan theorized. "You didn't say what it was, but you told your therapist about having a vivid flashback after being accosted by a delusional homeless man on the street. He called you a bitch, seemingly for no reason… is that what your rapist said to you? Did he say you were a stuck-up little bitch?"

As burning hot tears striped your temples, you curled your fingers over and over— maybe you could move your arms if you really tried…

"He was fucking right about you. You think you're so much fucking better than everyone else," he growled. "You think you're so fucking smart, and special. But you're no fucking different, you're nothing—"

You whined and reached up, weakly trying to push him off of you, but all you could do was limply grasp at his shoulders.

"Nothing but a stupid—" he grunted the word as he slammed himself into you— "fucking—" he did it again— "bitch."

"No!" you finally heard yourself sob, clutching a weak fistful of his white shirt, but he grabbed your hands and shoved them back down to the floor.

“God,” he choked, holding your wrists tightly until you whined, “it’s so much better when you can fight— fuck, it’s so much better. Keep struggling if you want, Doc, you’re still too weak for me…”

Your legs moved a little, but they felt heavy. Sensation was only just beginning to return to them, like pins and needles, and it stung; you winced as you managed to squirm a bit beneath him.

"That's it," he praised, "this is probably just how you did it before. Too drunk and too desperate for cock to really do much, but trying so hard to look like you hate it— I understand, you don't want anyone to know that you need this. They'd never look at you the same again: the smart, accomplished psychiatrist who likes getting treated like fuckmeat. What would they think of you if they knew?"

"No…" you said again, too weak and traumatized to say much else— but it wasn't what he said that made you say no, it was the pulse of pleasure inside your cunt. He must have felt it, and if he didn't, he surely felt the next; yes, he did, because he smiled down at you excitedly.

"It's happening, isn't it? You're gonna come."

He held on tight to one of your legs, gripping your thigh and staring uncomfortably into your eyes as he kept going— faster and rougher with each thrust. You choked on your throat, trying to stop any part of this, but the pleasure was undeniable; it still hurt, yes, and you still felt so angry and sick and numb, but something familiar and desperate was tightening in your gut. It’d been so long since anyone touched you… you’d forgotten how natural it could feel, even when it was so horrible.

"I read it in your file, but I still couldn't really believe it,” he laughed quietly, “I couldn't believe you came over and over while being raped— but here you are, wow, look at you… you’re so beautiful when you’re scared.”

A long, heavy sigh fell from your lips; your eyes got heavier, and your whole body seemed to relax— in a way totally different from the medication-induced paralysis.

He cooed at you, seeming oddly proud, and you were oddly compliant as he picked you up and pulled you into his lap.

Tears streamed across your cheeks as he held you close, one hand around your back while the other moved your hips against his. “There you go— come for me, I wanna feel it— another one, baby, for me…”

It wasn’t much longer before another one came— from what you remembered, it was a lot like the first time, this terribly wonderful way your body protected itself from the trauma by immersing you in pleasure. Of course, Jonathan helped you along by rubbing your clit with his thumb, excited to watch you surrender to ecstasy even when you begged him to just stop and leave you alone.

Of course, your protests were less and less believable as more of your strength and mobility returned— you could’ve tried harder to get away, but instead you found your hips rocking with his, your arms wrapping around his shoulders. No, you didn’t want this— you never wanted this— but you found the way he spoke to you impossibly comforting even while it was still deeply upsetting. “Tell me about the nightmares, darling,” he whispered— some impossible mix of pleading and ordering.

“A-almost every night,” you whimpered. “I… I got used to it, but I used to… I used to wake up and think I was still…”

"They felt so real, hm?" he presumed, and you nodded. “It’s real now… you don’t have to be afraid of the dreams anymore, it’s all real— I’m right here.”

You couldn’t tell if he was trying to scare or comfort you; he pet your hair, clinging to you tightly, kissing your face and neck along the lines of the tears soaking your skin.

You felt his grin against your cheek when another wavering moan echoed in your chest, and he laid you back on the floor to hover over you again. “Was that your third one, already?” he noticed. “This is so much easier than I thought… you needed this so badly, you poor girl.”

A quick wave of panic settled over you when his hand wrapped around your neck. “W-wait,” you pleaded instantly, as if you really feared he would just strangle you to death right then and there. Your hands, still weak and tingly, reached up to his arm, and you felt his cock throb inside you— of course that was what he wanted, to see you react in fear again. So many other emotions were at play right now, even some you didn’t know existed (like whatever the word would be for longing for the worst thing that’s ever happened to you, or feeling like the only person you can trust is the person hurting you the most), but fear was still going to rule it all as long as he had any say.

"How many times did you come before?" he demanded to know, nostrils flaring as he fucked you harder. "Tell me how many times you came when he raped you."

"I— I don't—" you stammered.

"Say it," he ordered.

"I— I don't know!" you yelped, whimpers falling to silence as he tightened his grip on your neck.

"You don't fucking know?" he snarled at you, watching you fight for air. You clawed at his shirt, his wrist, tried to pry his fingers away, but he just sneered as he stared at your numbing face. "You don't know how many times you creamed on your rapist's cock? Bullshit."

"I—" you gasped when he let go of your throat, "I lost count…"

He went from livid to ecstatic in a second, laughing proudly and dipping down to kiss your neck passionately. "Good girl," he mumbled against your skin, fucking you even faster. "That's what you need to do for me now— come for me until you lose count."

“I— I can’t,” you choked, grabbing at his shoulders as he seemed to overwhelm you just by pressing his weight down on top of you. “I’m sorry— you… you proved your point, I— I just need a break—”

Even though the drug he’d injected you with was wearing off, you realized you were just as limp and helpless as before… after all, some of the most powerful chemicals come inside the body. You didn’t even fight it when he put his hand over your mouth, spitting out a quiet but hateful shut up and continuing with his quick and forceful thrusts into you.

He kept you conscious and lucid by occasionally hitting or choking you, talking to you, once or twice even ordering you to kiss him. Like you mean it, he’d said, slapping you as punishment for doing it wrong. Truth be told, you hadn’t kissed anyone in so long that you’d really been trying your best the first time. Sometimes he told you to beg him for more— or to beg him to get off of you— and yet he would usually punish you for speaking at all. He was completely unpredictable, and you figured that was part of the plan: take away any shred of control you might try to get by making it impossible to follow his rules. Keep you confused and crying, keep you fearful, keep you obedient.

But, he did seem to enjoy when you could only just choke out a broken please. He laughed at you, pinching your sore clit in response until you sobbed and tried to jerk your hips away. “‘Please’ what, honey? You mean, ‘please keep fucking me, Doctor Crane, you’ll make me come again?’” he taunted. “Something like that?”

“Please… please,” you swallowed around your whines, “please just… finish, and go…”

“Oh,” he purred, “you want me to come?”

You’d specifically not phrased it that way, but, yes, that was what you were asking for. You weren’t sure what else he wanted from you now, it felt like he’d drained you of everything.

“You can just say that, baby— you wanna make me come?” he grinned, moving in closer for a kiss, but you turned your head away. He grabbed your jaw again and stared at you with an angry glare. “This isn’t about me. This is what you wanted. This is what you fucking wanted!”

As he screamed in your face, you sobbed and tried to look away again, but he hit you hard on the face and covered your mouth before the cry of agony could come out.

“This is what you wanted, right?” he insisted again, forcing your head to nod with his clammy, iron-tight grip. “Uh huh— and you wanna make me come, don’t you? You understand now that’s all you’re good for.”

As sick as it was, you felt yourself fall into another orgasm when he said that; your eyes rolled back a bit, and for a moment you felt even hotter between your legs.

“I think, if you beg me to come, maybe I will,” he offered— bargaining with you, probably another way to trick you into clamoring for some control only to yank it away. Unfortunately, you were in no position to turn down a deal.

“Please,” you blurted out the second he released your mouth from under his hand; when you blinked the tears from your eyes, you saw him clearly again and realized how completely different he looked from the arrogant-but-generally-unassuming man you knew from work. His hair was fallen beside his face, and he was close enough that the ends were tickling your forehead. His eyes were bloodshot, crazed, and dark. His lips, always full and plush but usually in a tight frown or neutral look of condescending boredom, were curled around the teeth he bared at you. He looked animalistic, for a man typically so measured. Only he could do something so animalistic in a way that required such intellect, foresight, and contemplation— using his superhuman skills to treat you in a subhuman manner. You realized that you were really seeing him for the first time— the person you’d known before was the mask. This was something horribly freeing for him; and you were having a much easier time analyzing and thinking about him to distract from how sickly freeing this experience was becoming for you. “Please, Jonathan—”

“Doctor Crane,” he corrected. Apparently this wasn’t enough to put you on a first name basis…

“Doctor Crane,” you repeated, “please… come. I want… I want you to come.”

“Hmm,” he considered, and you worried he’d decide he was unimpressed with your effort and hurt you again— but, he did maybe the only thing worse. “Okay,” he agreed, “if it’s so important to you.”

Just when you shut your eyes tight and hoped you could just get through this— just hold on for a few more minutes at most and then this would be over and done with— he whispered in your ear that he needed you to keep your eyes open if he was going to finish.

Though, when you obeyed, he purred at you and let his own eyes flutter shut for just a moment. For once, he actually seemed affected by all this physically and not just psychosexually. “I think I’ll come inside, like he did before,” Crane decided with a groan when he opened his eyes, biting his lip for a moment as he stared down at you. “I didn’t see any birth control in your listed medications on chart… I guess we’ll find out if you have a fear of getting pregnant.”

"Jonathan— don't," you whimpered. "Please, don't do that—"

"Shh," he soothed, petting the top of your head and laying his weight over you. "Shh, it's alright. I think you need to be filled with come… I think that might be the one thing that’ll get you to settle down, now just hold still.”

“I— please… please…” you began to beg again, but your words faded away as another wave of sensation washed over you— they started to blend together, like before, and you realized you were doing what he’d asked: you were losing count.

“Good girl,” he praised under his breath, “like that— fuck, I’m close. Fuck!”

He held onto you tight— one hand on your thigh and the other on your neck as his thrusts sped to a desperately, impossibly fast pace. You moaned— or cried, or yelled, or something— as he pushed just a little too deep and your toes curled in your heels.

“Uh huh,” he encouraged, “just one more while I come inside you— I think you can manage that, just one more good squeeze on my cock— oh, fuck, that’s it, yes, just like that…”

You stopped being able to understand what he was saying, but you heard the wavering groan that came a few moments later when his movements suddenly stopped. He gasped and kept himself as far inside you as possible; you shuddered, blinking fresh tears out of your eyes, and felt paralyzed in an entirely new way as you laid under him, staring up at your ceiling, seeing how far the sun had set since it began— actually, it had started to rain, making it even more impossible to tell how much time had really passed. Eventually, though, he took his head out from the crook of your neck and propped himself up enough to look down at you.

Reaching to your coffee table, he fumbled his hand around until he found his glasses, and shakily put them back on. “Well,” he grinned, still panting but seeming to be mostly back to himself (whoever that was). “I never thought I’d meet someone who loves fear as much as I do.”

#jonathan crane x reader #scarecrow x reader #cillian murphy x reader #jonathan crane smut #cillian murphy smut #IM SO SORRY TO THIS MAN #not to crane he's garbage

5K notes · View notes

writtenbymoonflower · 3 months

Note

how about

and hear me out

room mate! marauders who are obsessed with their shy roomate

oh trust me, hunny, i am hearing you. hope this is okay! shy gn!reader x poly!marauders

cw: nothing really, just fluff, reader is very flustered

1.1k words

Your eyes were blurry as you shuffled into the sunny kitchen. You weren’t used to waking up to the curtains open and breakfast on the stove. You’d lived with people before of course, but none as lively as this bunch. You weren’t complaining, though, you were quickly warming to them, even though you had probably spoken a total of 50 words to your new housemates in the three weeks you had lived with them. Most of these words likely consisting of sorry, excuse me, thank you.

They had been talking though. Ever since the day you met they had been treating you like their best friend. Not even that. They were all best friends. (Though you considered that wasn’t all, on more than one occasion you had caught Sirius with his head in James’ lap, or Remus’ legs swung over one of the other boys. You had also observed a fair number of kisses between the three boys). But rather, they treated you like something precious, like a porcelain doll they were begging to get a hold of.

That thought made you immediately think of the nickname Sirius (or ‘Pads’ as the boys occasionally called him) had stuck you with.

“Hey, dollface! You sleep well?” The coal-haired boy looked like he was itching to beckon you under his arm, but resisted. You were thankful, not knowing if you could survive that.

“It was good.” You hummed, barely legible to James over the sound of his bacon sizzling. You padded over to the breakfast table, sitting one chair away from Sirius and his huge bowl of cereal. No sooner had you sat down when a steaming cup of coffee was placed in front of you by a spindly hand.

“Here you go, dovey.” Remus sat in the chair between you and Sirius.

“Oi, Moons. You’re blocking my view.” You turned in your chair to look behind you at the ‘view’ he was referring to, brows scrunching in confusion when all you saw was the archway. You heard a light chuckle from Remus and a snicker from Sirius as you whipped back around. The possible meaning dawned on you, making you his your heated face in your mug.

“Don’t torture the poor thing.” James scolded, giving a (what you were sure he believed was comforting) squeeze to your shoulder before he sat on your other side.

“I never tortured anyone.” Remus corrected from behind his morning paper, slowly eating a cup of berry-yogurt. “Collective punishment is a war crime, Prongs”

“Leavin’ me to the wolves huh, Moons?” Sirius sassed, sipping on his coffee that was mostly just cream and sugar.

“Oh trust me, I’m sure we all know how much you’d love to be left to the wolf.” James smirked, clearly in on a joke that you had no idea about. He abandoned his teasing to turn to you, fixing a horribly kind look that made your tummy turn to mush. “There is some bacon and eggs on the stove for breakfast, but I’m sure Sirius would let you into his cereal.”

“There’s also yogurt.” Remus looked pointedly to his near-empty cup.

“Oh no, I’m okay. I could never take your food. I’m not hungry anyway.” You muttered into your mug.

“You’ve gotta eat somethin’ babydoll. Can’t have you skipping meals.” Sirius had a playful, if not protective tilt to his tone.

“I’ll find somethin’ don’t worry.” You scrubbed your bleary eyes with irritated cadence, still on the brink of sleep despite the warm caffeine swirling in your system. Thick fingers wrapped around your wrist to pull your offending hand away.

“Gentle, sweetheart.” James scolded lightly. “Gonna hurt yourself like that.” He squeezed your hand before letting it go but it felt oddly like your face and your lungs were being squeezed as well. If this was the boys normal, you weren’t sure if you were going to survive.

You mumbled a sorry looking at the mahogany table like it held the meaning of life, or the extra hour of sleep you desperately craved.

“What’ve we told you? You say sorry too much, sweet thing. It’s like, your favorite word or something.” Sirius laughed, slurping down his cereal milk and licking his chops. You bit back another apology and rubbed your eyes again, though much more gentle this time. James cooed in sympathy.

“You still sleepy?” He rubbed your back again, which made you both more heated and more drowsy.

“Yeah.” You hummed, shamefaced as you played with the hem of your oversized t-shirt. You were thankful that you were still too shy to not wear long pants around them, because they would definitely be able to tell how tensed your legs were. Remus set his paper down.

“Do you have work today, love?”

“No, ‘s my day off.” James grinned at that, but Sirius spoke up.

“Happy coincidence! It’s ours too.” He grinned. “How about we all watch something? We can put something on in the lounge room and you can catch a bit of sleep on the settee?” He suggested. You shrunk at the thought of sleeping in front of them, but weren’t opposed to the idea.

“We’ll make sure to wake you up so you don’t sleep the day away.” James added, still rubbing your back. You were easily convinced.

“Okay, that does sound nice.” Barely above a whisper.

“We can all have a big lunch when you get up, too. Maybe we could go out?” Remus suggested as he led you gently to the living room. You tried to make your way to the armchair, but you were tugged to the couch.

“That won’t be comfy, dollface. Here you go.” Sirius sat on the settee close to one arm, Remus by the other. Sirius pulled you between them while James sat on the floor and you whined in protest.

“No, I’ll move. You sit here, James.”

Remus swore that was the loudest he had ever heard you speak.

“No, I’m good right here. Thanks though, sweetness.” James reassured. He was sat in the middle, though rather close to Remus so the mousy boy could reach out with one hand and scratch James’ scalp, roving his long fingers through the thick curls. You were so distracted that you were startled when Sirius tugged on you again, maneuvering your head onto a pillow that laid on his lap. You tensed before relaxing into his warmth. You tucked your legs into yourself as Remus covered you with a blanket before going back to loving on James.

“There you go, baby. That feel nice?” Sirius said, unfamiliarly soft as he stroked your hair, hand a welcome warmth on your scalp.

Baby. Baby. Baby.

It would surprise you if you woke up from this nap. Your heart had nearly stopped on the spot.

#poly!marauders #poly!marauders x reader #poly!marauders imagine #poly!marauders fluff #poly!marauders angst #poly marauders #marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders fandom #james potter #sirius black #marauders era #remus lupin #drabble #fluff #poly!marauders x shy!reader #anon ask #anon request

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suashii · 10 months

Text

୨♡୧ SWEET NOTHINGS — aftercare with the hq boys.

featuring. miya osamu, suna rintaro, ushijima wakatoshi, sakusa kiyoomi

warnings. f!reader, no explicit smut (still, mdni), food (not used sexually), implied creampie, bathing together, tons of after-sex intimacy. all characters written 18+.

₊˚ପ⊹ MIYA OSAMU

osamu is a firm believer that the best thing one can do for their body after any strenuous activity, including sex, is to replenish it with food before allowing it to rest. he feeds you often but something feels different about doing the same thing only after sex. it makes for a much more intimate scene, he thinks, being able to share food with his lover after being so vulnerable with each other. it’s yet another way of showing his love for you.

• • •

“what’s on today’s menu?” you ask, sitting up as osamu returns from his quick venture to the kitchen. from behind his back, he reveals the carton of strawberries the two of you picked out from the market this morning. he gently shakes the container, “these sound good?”

you nod enthusiastically, waving him over to join you in bed. his feet carry him to the mattress and he plops down next to you with a comfortable sigh. you watch patiently as he pops open the plastic, fingers hovering above the fruit in search of the best of the batch. he picks the prettiest one he can find and holds the berry out to you, the palm of his other hand facing up beneath the first to serve as a sort of plate. “say ‘ah,’” he opens his mouth, hoping you’ll do the same.

a smile breaks out across your face before you follow his lead and open your mouth to take a bite. you hum as your cheeks tingle and the tartness of the fruit explodes on your tongue. osamu chuckles at your innocent reaction. it takes a moment before he becomes aware of the red-tinted juice dripping down his fingers. he pops them into his mouth before the trail of liquid can travel any farther, smiling around them as you happily bounce up and down on the bed.

₊˚ପ⊹ SUNA RINTARO

he’s never been one to take anything in life too seriously, but you’re one of the few exceptions to his carefree and jovial approach to living. sex with suna is rarely demanding but always passionate. even though he isn’t a particularly rough lover, rintaro acknowledges that you deserve some tending to after making love. in an attempt to keep the mood light, he keeps up his silly antics even while he’s taking care of you.

• • •

“nice game, mvp,” suna quips as he hands you the cold bottle of water he just grabbed from the fridge. a cheeky grin pulls at his lips upon seeing the way your eyebrows furrow while you take a swig of the beverage. you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand before sarcastically responding, “your lame charm never fails to make me swoon.”

“you love it,” he argues, taking a seat on the edge of bed the beside you. you turn to him to find a pair of dull yellow eyes already staring back at you. suna smiles before leaning forward to cup your cheek and slot his lips against yours. the kiss is soft and slow, a perfect culmination to an exhausting night. despite his inability to take most things seriously, moments like these are all you need to know that, deep down, suna really cares about you. he pulls away with another of his signature smiles, his thumb and index finger pinching your cheek. “ready to hit the showers?”

you scoff, playfully slapping his hand away. “i can’t believe i let you have sex with me.”

₊˚ପ⊹ USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI

his touch is gentle and tender; it drastically differs from how he was handling you only moments ago. even though the two versions of wakatoshi are stark contrasts of each other, you’re more than familiar with the soft side of him that emerges after the both of you are worn out and sticky with each other’s cum. words of praise accompany every calculated stroke of the damp, warm washcloth he uses to clean you up.

• • •

“i wasn’t too rough, was i?” ushijima asks as he makes his way back to where you lie, returning from grabbing a few things from the bathroom. he settles on the mattress beside you with a couple of damped towels. dark olive eyes fall on you and you shake your head to gesture that you’re fine.

he nods, taking one of the folded cloths to pat away the sweat from your forehead. nimble fingers brush away any stray strands of hair sticking to your face and you lean into the warmth of his touch. a small smile graces his lips upon seeing how content you are. as much as he’d love to spend the rest of the night with you in his arms, he has to finish getting you cleaned up.

reluctantly, wakatoshi pulls his hand away and reaches for another clean rag. he uses this one to carefully wipe any of the sticky release off of your thighs. you twitch at the contact, still sensitive from your previous activities. he’s told you many times before, but ushijima will never tire saying it. “you did so well, pretty girl.”

₊˚ପ⊹ SAKUSA KIYOOMI

the first thing he does as soon as you both finish is ask how you’re feeling; if you’re alright. as pleasurable as sex is, it can be just as fatiguing. no matter your answer, sakusa’s routine rarely strays; there’s always a warm bath with essential oils waiting for you on nights when the two of you end up naked and tangled in each other’s arms. his ultimate goal is to help you wind down and assure that you’re comfortable.

• • •

“feeling okay?” sakusa’s voice, albeit fairly quiet, startles you. the soft rumble you feel transfer from his chest to your back is somehow simultaneously surprising and comforting. it wasn’t difficult to begin to drift off in the tub filled with warm, bubbly water, the scent of lavender wafting throughout the steamy air.

you hum in satisfaction, letting your eyelids flutter closed once more. you won’t fall asleep this time. “better than okay.”

kiyoomi can hear the exhaustion lingering in your voice. he can feel you melting into it under the pads of his fingers as he massages the supple skin of your thighs. he finished washing you up a few minutes ago but you looked so tranquil that he couldn’t find it in him to move you. you’ll have to get out soon if you don’t want your skin to grow pruney, but sakusa decides to warrant you and himself a little longer in your peaceful bubble.

strong arms pull you closer into his chest, sending a ripple throughout the water. he rests his chin on your shoulder, pressing a light kiss to the pulse on your throat. you giggle, wet hand breaking the surface to cradle the side of his face. “perfect,” you whisper.

thanks for reading! consider commenting or reblogging if you enjoyed ❤︎

#₊˚ପ⊹ signed: haikyuu #osamu x reader #suna x reader #ushijima x reader #sakusa x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu x reader #osamu smut #suna smut #ushijima smut #sakusa smut #haikyuu smut #haikyuu drabbles #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #𐙚 after hours

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aesthetic-bbyg · 8 months

Text

SWEETNESS ~ BUGGY

LA!buggy x straw hat!reader

Based off of this post bc it made me giggle PT 2

Nattie speaks: y’all this mf clown has no right to be so fine but LAWRD. I’d do anything just for one lick. This is short nd simple but cute🤭

ZORO DRAGGED HIS FEET across the wooden floors of the Going Merry, ignoring the muffled screeching of the clown head inside the dark sack as he set his eyes on thing. Nightfall was approaching, everyone on the ship wanted some rest, yet nobody was getting any with the constant whining of Buggy. The green haired man pushed open your door, making you jumped slightly as you looked towards him with a raised brow.

“I give up, all yours now.” Zoro voiced practically dripped in annoyance, he tossed the sack across the room, making it land onto the soft cushion of your bed before slamming the door behind him.

You could hear groans coming from the sack, “Damn you, you fucking broccoli-haired ass!” You chuckled softly, putting down the comb you had in your hand and walking towards the scruffy bag. As you released the clown head he sighed in content, breathing in the fresh scent of berries that engulfed the room. “Ah, sweetness, so good to see you!”

“Nice to see you too, Buggy.” You giggled, “You doing alright there?” You asked, smiling a bit as the man got comfortable on your bed.

“Much better now that I have you in front of me.” He winked with a flirtatious smirk on his red painted lips. “I definitely thought he was going to put me with that weird chef guy again so he could chop me into piece and cook me or something.”

“Looks like you got lucky today.” You smirked back, grabbing him and placing him on the small vanity, going back to combing through your hair. Buggy was a simple man, with simple needs, especially since his whole body was gone. The angle his head was facing gave him more fuel into his dirty thoughts. His eyes directly faced your chest, eyes captured on the line of cleavage peeking from the low cut tank top you had on. He was hypnotized by you, for the first time since he was taken by Luffy and placed on the ship to sail away to Arlong island he’d gone completely silent.

You simply hummed, clueless of how the clown shifted slightly to get a closer view. You suddenly let out a huff, dropping the comb and looking over at the clown. “Y’know, I like having you around here, you totally make me feel special and even though the rest of the crew might really, really not like you, know I’m on your side.”

“Mhmm.” Buggy hummed in response, eyes hungrily watching you. “I appreciate that, sweetness.”

You smiled. “You hungry?” You stood up and took him in your arms, cradling him carefully like he was a baby. The blue hairs that peaked from under the striped bandana tickled your skin.

Buggy enjoyed being around you, especially since you were so generous and careful with him, the others simply tossed him into the sack or an empty barrel whenever he even spoke. But you, you fed him, you defended him, you took care of him and did the exact opposite of what everyone else did. “I’m hungry for one thing, that’s for sure, sweetness.” The clown replied, eyes still clued onto your tits as you entered the small kitchen.

“Hey, maybe we can brush through that tangled mess once we get a quick snack.” You replied giddily with a big smile, “Hey, and wanna know another thing—“ You heard a string of groans follow as soon as you stepped into the room with Buggy.

“I gave him to you specifically to get away from him.” Zoro groaned, making Sanji nod in agreement.

“I’ll be out soon, stop your whining.” You replied with a roll of your eyes, reaching for the basket of fruit and picking out two apples. You picked up a knife and cutting board, quickly going to work and chopping up a few apple slices. “So as I was saying, nobody has ever taken me seriously, which why I also like you, you don’t make fun of me which is what many others do.”

Zoro and Sanji glanced at eachother with questioning looks as you proceeded with your mini rant, both of them making eye contact with the clown head that smirked at them, a cheeky look in his eyes.

“But I mean, Luffy chose me to be a part of his crew so obviously I can be more, I’m not dumb, and I feel like more people need to take me seriously.”

“Hey.” The clown smirked as he watched your every move, finally speaking up about his slight obsessing with your chest. “Nice tits.”

“Thank you!” You happily replied with a smile, placing the slices on a clean plate and taking Buggy back to your room as everyone stared in shock. “Goodnight boys!”

“Yeah, goodnight fellas!” Buggy called out, and if only he’d had the rest of his body he’d most definitely be given them a middle finger.

“How is it that a clown can do better at getting that girl then me?” Sanji muttered in annoyance.

Forever will live, love, and laugh Buggy

yummy, I <3 men who are bbyg’s

#buggy is my man #buggy the clown #buggy the genius jester #buggy x reader #buggy thoughts #one piece #one piece show #one piece live action #buggy smut #captain buggy #buggy one piece #buggy

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thebotanicalarcade · 1 year

Video

n380_w1150 by Biodiversity Heritage Library Via Flickr: A guide to the wild flowers.. New York,F. A. Stokes[1899]. biodiversitylibrary.org/page/40764791

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tinfairies · 8 months

Text

Bounty Girl

Koby x Female!Pirate!Reader

Summary: You're an infamous pirate with a hefty bounty on your head. The marines have caught you once again, Koby is tasked with guarding you.

Word Count: 4k

Part two

"A pirate with a 100 Million berry bounty. I didn't think you'd be easy to catch, but I certainly didn't expect the impressive fight." Vice Admiral Garp spoke with a light amusement in his voice. A cadet with pink hair stood by his side, eyes wide as he took in your appearance. Poor thing hasn't seen many pirates, if any, you assume.

The Vice Admiral turns to the cadet, shaking him from his trance.

"Koby, you take the first security shift, you have the cell keys, and the alarm if they break free."

Without another word the Admiral exits the room, leaving you and the nervous cadet alone. It's silent for a few moments, Koby stands dutifully by the desk.

"So, Koby. What are you doing after this?" You joke with a smirk, making sure to annunciate his name, and lean against the cell bars.

Koby's face hardens at your jest. "I have no desire for small talk with pirates." He says, crossing his arms over his chest.

The Vice Admiral had spoken highly of Koby in his reports of your capture. However, Koby was clearly bitter about the assignment he had been given, regardless of the bounty on your head.

You give Koby a fake pout, "I'm just trying to make conversation, did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed or what?" You wrap your hands around the cool metal of the bars and press your forehead against them. You stare Koby down from his place across the room, making him shift under your gaze.

"No pirate is worth conversing with." He says coldly, his eyes locking to yours. His confidence wavers and his gaze moves to study the floor.

As you stare him down, you notice his fingers twitching. Your presence has clearly riled Koby, and you get the sense that the Vice Admiral had a reason for choosing him to oversee your capture.

You lick your lips and watch Koby's fingers drum lightly against his thigh. You look him up and down once more, deciding he'd be a fun play toy.

"Is this not how you expected things to go? You seem pretty pissed that you're down in the cell blocks like some rookie and not with your Admiral making plans for my execution." You tease, trying to get under his skin.

You push at the edges of Koby's composure, his eyes narrowing as he suppresses the flash of anger in his expression.

As you continue to goad him, his right foot begins to tap in cadence with the trembling of his fingers. The longer you push at Koby, the more you can see him struggling to maintain his cool demeanor. You smile at this.

"Unless that's all you are to him. A rookie that he uses for the boring, miniscule work he doesn't want to deal with." You walk to the other side of the cell, closer to Koby, and lean against the bars once more.

"I think that's it, every boss has that one employee they use. Make them think they're important, just so they don't complain about the work."

"I have done more in this past year than you have in your entire life." Koby says, his tone turning sharp. The mask has fallen, and Koby has lost whatever reservations he had about speaking candidly with you.

"The Vice Admiral didn't have to assign me to oversee your capture, but it suits my career goals. That being said, I'm not wasting my time chatting with you." He says, turning his back on you.

At this point, it's clear that Koby has little interest in entertaining you. The two of you stand in silence for a few moments.

You chuckle at his outburst in amusement. "Oh you really don't like pirates do you? Is it a childish prejudice, or did a pirate hurt you? Come on, you tell me." Your eyes burn into his back, but Koby ignores your continued taunts.

Silence fills the cell as he struggles to control his emotions. His hand curls into a fist, then falls open just as quickly. Koby's shoulders remain tense as he takes a deep breath.

As he regains his composure, you get the sense that he is still in a state of extreme tension. He seems ready to lash out again at the slightest provocation.

"Don't wanna tell me? That's okay, but just know that I'd never hurt you. Not unless you want me to, that is." You continue your teasing, trying to get him to come close to the cell.

Koby slowly spins in your direction. He eyes you menacingly, but he remains where he stands, out of reach from inside the cell. The tension in his shoulders seems to fade slightly at your continued attempts at flirting.

"You wouldn't hurt me, huh?" He asks. His face gives away no emotion, but he is clearly intrigued.

The smile on your face widens, happy that you've finally gotten his interest. "No, how could anyone hurt someone with a face like yours?"

Your continued flattery finally breaks through to Koby. His facial expression breaks for a moment, as he is caught off guard by your comment.

The tension that he was holding evaporates, as his shoulders drop. He looks away from you, as if not wanting you to notice how much your flirtation affected him.

"How could someone with a face like yours be a pirate?" He mumbles, returning the compliment in kind. His gaze shifts back to you, meeting your eyes for the first time since he arrived.

"Are you calling me pretty, cadet?" You feign a blush, though you can't deny the butterflies in your stomach. Your eyes lock with his, and you can finally see just how gorgeous they are; Made even bigger by his glasses, you could easily get lost in the blue.

Koby smiles nervously as you flirt back at him. The butterflies in his own stomach become a maelstrom of activity as you take in his striking eyes. He knows it's wrong, but he's enjoying the tension of your flirtation.

"Am I?" He asks, he lets out a trembling chuckle, realizing the weight of what he's partaking in.

"You never answered my question. What are you doing once you're off duty for the night?" You look him up and down again, trying not to let him notice that you're eyeing the cell keys on his belt loop.

"I'm meeting with Vice Admiral Garp. There's an event on a nearby island that requires his attention and he wants me to be there." Koby says, turning away from you, a slight blush creeping the back of his neck.

He remains oblivious to your continued glances at the keyring. His uniform looks crisp and well-maintained, however, and he seems the type of person who keeps a tight grip on everything he owns, including the keys to your cell.

"Oh? Is it a fancy event, or just a room with stuffy old marines complaining about their jobs and reminiscing about the old days." You walk to the corner of the cell, getting a better look at Koby.

"More of the latter, unfortunately." Koby says, turning back to look at you. The corner of his mouth curls in an endearing small smile.

As he turns back to you, you hear the faint jangling of the keys. He quickly and subtly covers them with the hem of his jacket as you shift and press your body to the bars.

You look down as he covers the keys. "Have you always been Garp's lap dog, or is that a new position you've taken up?" You begin to tease him again, hoping to get him closer and closer to the cell

Koby narrows his eyes at your dig. "The Vice Admiral has put in a good word for me with Admiral Sengoku." He replies flatly, not willing to rise to your continued taunting.

Koby opens his mouth to speak again before you get the chance. "If I may ask, what's with the flirtatious facade? I thought you pirates had no time for that sort of thing."

As you continue to tease him with your smile, he slowly begins to back away from your cell.

"No time for romance, but that doesn't mean we don't bring people into our beds. You'd look so pretty laid out on my bed." You smirk even wider, your words may be manipulative but they're true. Your stomach flutters at the image of him naked beneath you.

Your compliment draws a flush to Koby's face as he steps further back. Your words have cut through his barriers, and he doesn't seem to know how to respond.

"I can't imagine a pirate like you has much need for romance." He says, his voice slightly quieter than before.

His eyes flit to the cell keys hanging from his hip, but then quickly shift back to you.

"I like romance though, I just haven't found anyone I actually want to put that effort into." You tilt your head, studying Koby further. Your confession causes a flash of disappointment on his face.

"Well, until tonight that is." You glance at the keys, then back to his face. His face has a pink tint and his eyes are wide, he looks absolutely gorgeous. Your stomach turns slightly and your cheeks warm up. The plan wasn't to catch feelings for the cadet, but that's starting to change.

Koby remains silent, mulling over your declaration of interest. The tension in the air between you both is thick, the silence punctuated by your steady heartbeat. Your eyes remain on him, your heart fluttering in your chest.

Koby's eyes shift to the keys hanging from his belt, and you sense the moment of weakness in him. His breath becomes more rapid, and his eyes dart back to your face.

His words are barely a whisper as he asks "Can I trust you?"

"I'm a pirate, that's up to you. I won't hurt you though, in fact I might make you feel really good if you'd let me." A devilish glint flashes in your eyes as you anticipate his weakness

Koby's eyes lock with yours, and he seems to weigh your words. His lips begin to form a small smile as he considers your offer.

"I know you won't hurt me." He says, his voice a whisper.

He holds your gaze for a moment longer, and then quickly reaches for the keys on his belt. His hands visibly shake as he turns the lock, you can see the smile creep back onto his lips as his eyes flicker with anticipation.

You pull the cell door open, and quickly grab him by his uniform tie. His breath catches in his throat as you pull him into your embrace, holding his tie in a vice-grip. The tension of the moment threatens to overflow, your lips mere inches apart. You can feel his nervous breathing and you smile as you await his next move.

Koby's breath is labored as he leans forward, his lips parting as he prepares to meet your own. His eyes are lost in yours, and he seems intent on forgetting his position as a marine and instead meets you as a man.

You press your lips to his, he's warm and soft, unlike any man I've kissed before. You place one of your hands on his jaw as the other releases his tie and settles on his chest. He tastes like mint, and smells of bamboo. Once again, unlike any man you've been with. You can feel his heart hammering in his chest, and you hope your own heartbeat isn't noticeable.

Koby's lips mingle with yours in a slow dance, his breath coming in short bursts as he adjusts to the feeling of the kiss. It's a completely foreign feeling for him, but he loves it. His hands settle around you, gripping the fabric of your shirt. The muscles in his arms clench, as he nervously rests his hands on your waist.

As your fingers explore his chest, you can feel his heartbeat pounding against your palms. Koby seems lost in both the feeling and the passion of the moment, his eyes closed tight as he continues to embrace you.

You begin to push him back, slowly moving until his lower back bumps the desk behind him. You pull away from the kiss and look down at him, his glasses are fogged and slightly crooked. Koby's eyes open as you move away, taking in his surroundings. He seems as though he's disappointed with the reality of the situation. You giggle and reach up to fix his glasses, pushing them back up the bridge of his nose, giving him a clear view of you. He is frozen, his breathing still heavy, as he takes you in. You're chest is pressed to his and he can feel your beat against his own.

He glances down your shirt, completely entranced, and you chuckle lightly at his boyish stare. He is broken from his trance by your laughter, as he chuckles nervously alongside you. His face is flushed with redness.

"Have you ever kissed anyone before, cadet?" You trace your nail along the edge of his rank patch, using his formal title to tease him. He's so cute and innocent. You open your mouth to let your thoughts flow "I'm just thinking of all the ways I could ruin you."

"Of course I've kissed someone." He replies, clearly lying. As you stroke your finger along his chest, he shivers in response to your touch.

You watch as Koby's brain short circuits while he struggles to maintain his composure in your presence, his face glowing like a sunset.

"And just as an FYI, I'm not that green." He says defensively, his face reddening even further. He turns away from you, trying to regain some control of the conversation.

"You can't ruin me. What do you even mean by that anyway?" He asks, his curiosity getting the better of him as he looks at you again.

"Oh, I think you know exactly what I mean by that." You slide your hands lower, gripping his hips and pushing him harder against the desk. He's completely trapped by your body and you press your hips into his. A wave of shock runs through your body as you feel, or rather don't feel, what you expected.

Your grip on his hips sends a flush of arousal through him as your hands caress his body. He inhales sharply as you push yourself into him, sliding your hands back up his chest. His face goes from red to deep crimson, as the rush of blood fills his cheeks. He struggles to maintain his composure, his jaw clenching in a vain attempt to suppress his libido.

"I don't know what you mean." He finally says breathes out, but the flustered inflection of his voice belies the truth he knows inside.

"Did the person you kissed before make you feel this way? Did she make you feel this good, or are you going to lie to me again?" You whisper against his jaw, rubbing your hips harder. You narrow your eyes a bit as you study the feeling of his arousal. Your whisper has a soothing quality to it, but it also brings a wave of emotion as the moment builds between you both. The look in Koby's eyes shows that you've struck a chord within him.

He's not disinterested, there's no way his cock wouldn't be at least a little hard. Unless he doesn't...

Oh– Oh.

He shakes his head, his answer finally coming out in a rush. "No. I- No one has ever made me feel like this. O-Or kissed me." He looks down at your hands as he lets the truth spill out, his breath catching in his throat when he feels your hips grind against his sweet spot.

You kiss him again, licking at his lips, begging to be let in. He gladly parts his lips, you delve your tongue into his mouth. This drives Koby wild, and he groans quietly against you. He uses your waist to pull you in further, his legs trembling ever so slightly.

You moan against him and move your hands back up to his chest, curiously searching for the feeling of a binder. You whimper as your expectations are shifted and you feel the faint outline of what you can only assume are surgery scars. Jagged and poorly done, from what you can feel. You pull back once again, and look into his eyes. "You're such a pretty boy, you know that?"

You catch your reflection in his eyes, he looks as though he's on the verge of tears. Koby looks over your face in return, taking in your hair, your eyes, and your lips. His gaze seems almost too close, as if he is attempting to analyze every detail of you.

He blinks rapidly, shaking his head. "T-Thank you." He stammers. "But that's all I can give you." The words come out as if he is fighting them. "Please stop this."

Disappointment swells in your heart, you hide your pout and pull away from him, taking a few steps back. He begins to straighten his uniform, not daring to meet your gaze.

"If I wasn't a pirate would I have a chance at having you all to myself?" I barely glance up at him before staring at the door.

The look of disappointment breaks through the facade of Koby's emotions. His eyes are drawn back to you, his expression one of sadness.

"I'm a Marine. You are a pirate. This could never work." He says that, but you know his words have a different meaning.

"I'm not a real man, you wouldn't like me if you knew" are the true words that echo in his head.

He's trying to sound firm, but your shared moment has eroded his walls. He continues to stare at you, a faint blush still creeping across his face.

"Then I guess we'll just be a game of cat and mouse for each other." I push Koby further back against the desk then make a break for the door, striding across the room.

Your words sting, and his heart is telling him one thing, but his duty is telling him another. His lips press into a frown, as the conflict plays out internally.

As you rush for the door, Koby quickly follows after and grabs your wrist, pulling you back with surprising strength. Your movement is halted in an instant, and you feel no give in his grip. Even though you stand taller in height, you are no match for his strength.

"Where do you think you're going?" He asks, his eyes hard with resolve.

"Sorry cadet, but I have date with The Grand Line I really can't miss." You try to twist out of his grasp, trying to break free, but to no avail. He grips your wrist with unrelenting determination.

"You know that I can't let you escape," he says, his words clipped and his face neutral. The words are not empty or contrived, he truly wants to keep you here. He can see something in you that he is attracted to, and it is pulling at his heart.

"If I stay, they'll execute me at the next marine port this ship docks at. Is that what you really want?" You ask, fear seeping into your voice knowing the weight of its truth. You don't know Koby, and he doesn't know you. Though, from what you can tell, he wouldn't like for anyone to be executed, not even a pirate.

Koby looks down at your wrist in his grasp, and his resolve falters. He looks up at you, his mouth moving as if to speak before it closes again. The guilt on his face is palpable, and the conflicting feelings play out on his face. He knows that he wants you to stay, but he also knows that he has the responsibility of handing you over to justice. He doesn't have an answer for the moment, as he stands frozen.

You feel his grip begin to loosen ever so slightly, you take the opportunity to pull your hand free from his grasp and begin to make your way to the door again.

"There's no way anyone will be able to convince the Vice Admiral not to kill me, the crimes I've committed are beyond life in prison for a civilian, let alone a pirate." You speak flatly, you're not ashamed of what you've done. Being a liar, a killer and a thief is just part of the job description.

"W-Wait." He exclaims suddenly. His words fill you both with surprise, and you pause to turn back and look at him.

"The Vice Admiral is a good man. He understands that you are more than your crimes. We can work something out. Please, just… I can't let you leave."

You can see the hope in his eyes, as he is begging for you to stay. You know that you can't get much further with him standing guard over you, but your own curiosity has kept you here thus far. You need to break the sudden infatuation you have for each other. Your mind is filled with ridiculous notions that you could get you killed if you pursue them.

"Do you think that if I stay, we'll be able to have something together? Some wild fantasy where you can kiss me every night and call me your girlfriend? Koby. I'm a pirate, a criminal, the very thing that the marines swear to eliminate." Your words are sharp and Koby feels like a child being scolded. He feels stupid for letting a fantasy take control of his mind so quickly. He just met you, in a jail cell of all places.

"I... I don't know." He replies, his words weak as he struggles to form a response. His gaze shifts to the door, and then back to your face.

His voice wavers as he speaks "You're right, there's no way we can be together. Not while I'm a Marine, and you're a pirate."

His eyes search yours for something, anything he can use to keep you in this room. He doesn't want you to run, but he also doesn't want you dead. As he stares at your face, his eyes move back to the door.

You turn from him again and pull the door open, slipping out into the hall, leaving Koby alone in the cell block.

"If I escape, there's a chance I can meet with him later. Perhaps even kiss him under different circumstances." Your thoughts ramble as you sneak through the lower decks, the emergency alarm cuts through your thoughts.

"Damn, I knew he wouldn't let me leave without a trace."

You can already hear marine voices nearby, racing to the security room to find the cause of the emergency. You can barely take in the path of escape in front of you, your mind running wild as it takes in the chaos of the situation.

It's not until the voice of your beloved cadet pierces the air that you take in that your escape can't be as simple as you had thought.

"Escaped prisoner on the lower starboard deck! In pursuit!" He bellows, his voice filled with determination.

You smile at his loyalty to the marines, but you have to leave before they get any closer to Loguetown. You sprint up the steps and push through the doors to the upper deck. The marines there are rushing to prepare for a battle. It appears that Koby is not the one that sounded the emergency alarm. There, out in the water is a pirate ship. Your pirate ship, it seems your crew has come to rescue you.

The voices of the marines follow behind you as they man their stations. You are the least concern for them right now, and stare out at your large ship barreling towards the marine vessel. Your crewmates are waiting for you, with eyes shining and weapons at the ready.

This is almost routine, many times you've been captured, and many times you've escaped. You'd started to get tired of it, but when you saw that young cadet by the Vice Admirals side, you figured you could play cat and mouse a bit longer.

You rush to the edge of the ship's railing, slipping your shoes off in preparation to jump into the water. If you can swim to your ship, you'd be able to guide your crew away from the marines with little to no fighting. You won't dare sink the marine ship, you won't risk Koby like that. You want to see him again, under very different circumstances that is.

As you approach the edge of the railing, you hear a voice calling out to you from behind.

"Stop her!"

It's Koby, and he is determined to stop you from escaping. You can see the desperation in his eyes as he races for the railing, his arms outstretched in the hope that he can catch you before you can escape.

Your feet dangle above the water, as you look from him to your ship.

"I'll be waiting for you at the next port you stop in! Trust me, you can't get rid of me now, not even if you wanted to!" With that, you jump into the water. As you swim the choppy waters to your ship, you hear the marines making a commotion. They fire cannons at your ship, and your own crew fires back.

You kick out at the surface of the water, your feet propelling you forward in a quick effort to make it to the pulley rope on the stern of your ship

Finally, you break the surface of the water and emerge before your shipmates, who quickly drag your soaked body onto the deck. You laugh as you look out on the ocean, watching the marines fail to catch your ship as it disappears out of their sight.

#koby x reader #koby smut #op koby #captain koby #koby one piece #koby #one piece smut #one piece x reader #One piece #op x reader #op smut #Opla #opla smut #opla x reader

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norrisleclercf1 · 2 months

Note

I have such bad baby fever rn and the Casper fabby request couldn’t have been at a better time😭 I’m in love with them

Could you please do a maybe max has been away too much and he feels Casper and fabby are getting distant from him cause they only reach for you so max takes them for boys day out. Maybe other drivers join or not either way.

A/N: Stoppppp Max would be so sad if his baby boys pulled away from him, those are his babies the twins are about 3-4 years old

Coming through the door, he keeps it quite as he knows the boys would just be waking up and wanted to be there to help you get them up. Padding through the penthouse he nods as his guards who nod and leave knowing you're much safer now.

"Thank you," Max whispers and heads into your bedroom first and smiles seeing you asleep wearing one of his old shirts, you always wore his clothes when you were gone. "Schat," Max whispers, placing his bag on the floor and moving to lean over the bed.

He smiles gently and touches your cheek, loving the way they puff out when you sleep. Whining you squeeze your eyes, nose scrunching that makes him smile when you do that. "Schat, I'm home." He whispers, placing soft kisses on your lips which has your eyes slowly opening. "Hi," You whisper, it's so soft Max almost misses it. "Hi," He whispers back.

Pulling back the blanket, Max moves and lies in the bed, holding you for the first time in almost two weeks. His body melts into yours as you bury your face into his chest, soaking in the smell of faint gun powder, lemon, with a touch of mint. It was how he always smelled, he smelled like home. "The boys will be up soon," Max hums and pulls you closer.

"I know, that's why I flew all night, I wanted to be here when they woke." Max whispers, fingers rubbing into your muscles which almost lulls you back to sleep. "Come on, let's get them before we never leave this bed." Max chuckles thinking that wasn't a bad thing but he really missed his babies and just wanted to hold them. "I'll get them," Max slides out of bed, hating that he was leaving the bed so soon.

Smiling he hears some movement in the bedroom and pushes the door open, smiling when he sees Fabby rolling around sucking on his paci. "Fabby, mijn kleine jongen." Max whispers and Fabby whines, rolling over with his hair messy and eyes droopy. Fabby whines loudly and his eyes get teary and Max coos and bends down to pick his boy up but Fabby scoots back and runs out of the room.

Max sighs, dropping his head and squeezing his nose taking a slow deep breath. He doesn't need to look to see Caspian roll out of bed and rush down the hall after his brother. Standing he heads to the bedroom and sees the boys curled into your body and you give him a worried look but he just smiles.

"I'm going to jump in the shower," Leaning over he kisses you but then goes to press a kiss on each of the boys. "No," Caspian pushes Max chest with his little hands and Max blinks and you can feel your own heart break as Max stares at Caspian. "Love you," Max whispers and walks into the bathroom, sliding the door closed.

Coming out, he wears some dress pants with a black shirt, drying his hair off as he stands in the hallway watching the boys eat. "Daddy," Fabby whines holding his bowl out to Max who smiles and moves. "Do you want more mijn kleine jongen?" Max asks and Fabby nods his head as Caspian stares up at Max with big eyes.

He moves into the kitchen and smiles at you, getting Fabby some more pancakes with berries. "You've just been gone a lot Max, that's it." You whisper, knowing why he was so tense. "Still, they shouldn't react to me that way, I've been too long," He moves away from you touch but then turns. "Why don't you take the day, do whatever you want," He takes out his wallet and lays down his black card. "Get whatever you want, let me spend the day with the boys." You can tell he really needs this and you nod your head, slowly taking the card.

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

"Daddy!" Caspian yells as Max gently tosses him into the couch laughing as Fabby runs at Max with a fake lightsaber. Fabby hits Max in the back of the knees and then the stomach. "Ugh," Max groans, fake dying as the boys jump around cheering, Max smiling as they jump on him.

"Easy, I'm not so young anymore." Max laughs and the boys giggle and run off to their room, probably to get more toys. The door opens and voices fill the penthouse, Max smiling. "What up old man," Max scuffs as Lando looks down at him grinning. "Where are the boys?" Carlos asks, as Charles comes behind them with bags, probably filled with clothes and new toys.

"Boys! Your Uncles are here!" Max yells, groaning as he gets up, knees popping and he waits, hearing utter silence. "It's never good when the twins go silent." Charles mummers, and true to his word, it was never good.

"War!" Caspian jumps out of the hallway holding a huge nerf gun and Fabby screaming as he runs out waving two lightsabers which sends the guys scrambling. Max stands there, laughing as he watches some of the scariest men in the world get chased by his two boys. Fabby comes running back and hands out of the blue lightsaber to him.

"So I finally get your blue one huh?" Max asks, knowing that Fabby loved it. "Yes, Momma says the blue is the good, and Momma says you're good." Fabby smiles and stops his face going serious seeing Lando crawl around. "Landie!" He screams and the house is filled with the shrieks of Lando as Fabian kills his uncle.

Max smiles, clearing his throat as he watches his family play. "Daddy! Get him!" Caspian yells as Charles bolts past him and Max smirks running after his friend.

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sunshinescribes · 7 months

Text

The House Always Wins

Part 2 of this fic

Pairing: Sir Crocodile x Fem!Reader

Rating: EXPLICIT (18+)

Warnings: Possessive Behavior, Jealousy, Rough Sex, Cunnilingus, (lowkey) Sugar Daddy Crocodile, Crocodile is smug and petty

Crocodile doesn’t know what to expect when he wanders onto the casino floor of Rain Dinners in search of you. Slot machines chime, playing a catchy little tune with each pull of the lever. Dealers grin and offer words of encouragement, coaxing big-eyed fools into another game with the sweet promise of lady luck’s favor.

You don’t usually partake in gambling, not keen on the idea of betting away your berries when you know it’s all rigged—and why would you even need to? You never ask for anything, but Crocodile provides. Spoils you even.

He enjoys watching the way your eyes get all big, stunned by the diamond necklace he places around your neck, or the soft gasp that passes your lips when he gifts silk charmeuse and chiffon dresses, designed, and tailored just for you.

Crocodile continues to seek you out, his sharp eyes flitting between the slot machines and card tables. He ignores the curious and lingering looks targeted at him—the smartly dressed patrons who vie for his attention as he continues to search—and then he hears it.

Your laugh, loud and beautiful—music to his fucking ears. He turns.

Crocodile doesn’t expect to see you at the bar, perched on a stool, leaning into a man he doesn’t recognize. Your hand is on his slender arm, your lips pulled into a pretty smile, and laughter escapes again—so lovely and genuine and for someone else.

The man grins at you sheepishly, transfixed on your mouth. It’s so blatant—barely contained, the way he’s staring at you with a mix of adoration and lust.

You must feel Crocodile’s eyes on you because you glance over your shoulder suddenly. Your smile widens, and you exchange a quick word with the mysterious man before hopping down from your seat.

Crocodile is silent as you approach, stone-faced. You grab his arm with both hands and tilt your head towards the man, all while smiling up at him.

“I want you to meet my friend,” you say excitedly, steering him towards the bar.

Crocodile doesn’t catch the name that rolls off your tongue—he can’t seem to hear anything over the sudden ringing in his ears, so sharp it drowns out the sounds of the jingling slot machines and triumphant cheers of those foolish enough to think they’re the winners.

The fond smile that plays on the mystery man’s lip never falls, but Crocodile notices the sudden unease as the man’s eyes land on him. The imposing height, the cold, almost irritated expression he comfortably wears—the golden hook that glints under the blinding casino lights. It’s enough to strike fear in the heart of anyone smart enough to value their life.

And the man is a small thing—average in every sense of the word, Crocodile thinks. The plain clothes, the nervous, uncertain words that stumble from his mouth as he tries to introduce himself. Crocodile doesn’t feign interest—he barely even acknowledges your friend, and that only serves to add to his anxiety.

If it wasn’t for the pitiful look you shoot him, Crocodile would laugh at just how pathetic this man is.

“We both grew up in Coombe,” you explain, glancing back at the mystery man. “I never thought you’d leave the North Blue.”

He must take your surprise as a compliment because he gives you another bashful smile.

“I didn’t either. Guess I finally figured if you could do it, so could I,” he chuckles softly. “Imagine my shock when I saw you here, of all places.”

“Small world,” Crocodile chimes in dryly, drawing your friend’s attention once more.

Crocodile places a hand on your hip, drawing you a little closer to him.“She never mentions much about her home in the North Blue.”

And she never mentioned you. The insult is unspoken, so subtle that he thinks even you don’t catch it.

But it’s also true. You rarely spoke about the North Blue—of the life you had before you entered the Grand Line and ended up in Alabasta. You never mused over an island you once called home, or a lovesick, hairbrained boy you left on it, and Crocodile doesn’t pry. He isn’t particularly interested in knowing, truth be told. He only cares about the life you have now, with him.

The man goes on an excited tirade about how beautiful Coombe is this time of year, about how you used to love the new bloom after winter finally passed, and all the fun you both had in your youth. He can’t help but reminisce, tries to connect with you in the only way he’s able.

“You should visit when you can. Uh—you both should.”

You pretend to consider it, and Crocodile gives little more than an unaffected grunt.

You inquire how long he’ll be staying and recommend shops and restaurants he must visit before leaving. He shamelessly seeks more of your company—your attention—and asks if you could possibly give him a tour.

You promise to check your schedule and follow up, and he beams as if he’s won an invaluable prize. Crocodile’s irritation grows—twists and festers the longer he stands by your side, little more than an onlooker. His frustration isn’t directed at you—you’ve always been friendly, offering a smile where he would surely offer a sneer, but it doesn’t stop his grip from tightening on your hip.

You notice, finally excusing yourself. The man gives you both a soft goodbye, one that Crocodile ignores completely as he whisks you away, and he can’t help the way his lips pull into a smug grin at the quick glimpse of the dejected look on his face. It must hurt him to see you walk away in the arms of another—to know the golden opportunity he thought the world had provided him never existed at all.

“You didn’t like him.”

It’s the first thing you say when you enter Crocodile’s private suite, disappointment dripping in your voice. You weren’t foolish enough to think he would be thrilled, but you thought Crocodile would at least be amicable.

He shrugs his coat off, placing it on the coat hanger near the door. “He was shameless.”

Your brows furrow, your lips pull into a slight frown…You don’t know? It takes Crocodile by surprise; surely you must. The man is far too obvious; his intentions are impossible to mask.

“He would have taken you right there on the bar if you had let him,” Crocodile scoffs.

You blink, dumbfounded.

“Gage?”

So that’s his name.

Your voice comes out in a high-pitched squeak, taken aback by the sudden accusation. “He doesn’t want to fuck me.”

Crocodile gives a mirthless laugh. You’re so sweet. So naïve. Always offering others the benefit of the doubt.

Crocodile recognized the hunger in his eyes—the longing. He suspects this friend of yours has harped on you for a long time, never quite brave enough to take the chance.

Not even now. By some miracle, he survived the Grand Line, and he still can’t brave his own futile emotions. Crocodile isn’t sure whether to laugh at how spineless the man is or burn with anger at how he even thinks he has any chance of having you.

The dark, ravenous part of him takes high offense.

Crocodile comes up behind you and dwarfs you with his body as his decorated hand cradles your jaw. “Course he does. Look at you.”

He tilts your head, forces you to face the full-length mirror on the opposite wall. You try to focus on your own reflection, but you can’t help but watch Crocodile when he dips down, pressing a tender kiss to your neck, all while his half-lidded eyes hold your gaze.

“Maybe I should invite him to our room so he can watch me fuck you,” he murmurs against your skin.

You shiver, nearly stumble out of his grasp as his lips trail higher.

“Don’t be cruel...”

Cruel? His offer would be courteous. It would be the closest your lovestruck friend would ever get to your naked form. The only way he would ever know what you sound and look like at the height of your pleasure—how perfect you are, stuffed and babbling through your orgasm.

The cruel thing would be what he truly wants to do—to use his devil fruit powers to turn the man into a withering corpse, forgotten in the endless sand dunes.

“Would you rather he joined?” Crocodile inquiries plainly.

He attempts to come off unaffected…curious, but the wicked voice in the back of his mind nags at him, hisses about feelings that could have been, and still may be.

The man matches your gentle nature, and is somewhat competent, at least to have made it this far from the North Blue. He’s the kind of man who would kneel at your feet if you asked, worship you as if it were his sole purpose—he’d give you a typical life, picturesque in its simplicity, and you would be content.

The thought makes something vicious twist in his gut. It makes time stand still as Crocodile awaits your answer.

“No.” You shake your head softly, meeting his cold eyes in the mirror. “I’ve never thought about him like…that.”

Of course not. What would you want with a sniveling worm? How could you go back to mediocrity after everything that’s been offered to you? The attention of a warlord of the sea—the savior of Alabasta. How could anyone else ever compare?

It’s pathetic how the gluttonous beast inside of Crocodile settles and hums contentedly, knowing that you only want him.

And maybe this is your power he couldn’t recognize before, why he was so unnerved in the beginning—this ability to effortlessly turn sensible men foolish. Even him.

“Only want you.” You turn, your soft eyes trained on him. “Always want you.”

Crocodile captures your lips as the words escape, and you melt into him—mold your body into his until he is all you sense. The heady scent of his sweet cigars mixes with hints of patchouli and cedar—his cologne—it lingers on his fitted clothes, drawing you deeper into his searing kiss.

You feel the bend of his golden hook press into the curve of your back, forcing you to curl into him as he parts your lips with his tongue. You’re caught in a pleasant haze, lightheaded, while Crocodile kisses you like he’s claiming your mouth, making sure that your lips never forget the feel and taste of him—that they never desire another’s.

Crocodile lifts you from the ground effortlessly with his ringed hand, still kissing you hungrily as he shifts blindly through his suite, knowing the layout well enough to stumble into his lavish bedroom. He parts from you with a low groan.

“Lay down,” he orders against your lips, and you comply, sinking into the soft mattress while he looms over you.

The ache you feel in your core blossoms—hurts so good from how desperately you want him—to be wrecked and teary-eyed and a mess for him.

You even go as far as to whine when you notice Crocodile isn’t working to free the fierce erection that strains his dress pants, eager to be lost in your warmth.

“None of that,” Crocodile tuts coyly, lowering to his knees near the foot of the bed. His large hand skims up the length of your thigh, pushing up your dress until it is bunched around your waist, and he can see the evidence of your arousal staining your thin lingerie—another gift.

That creature inside of him purrs gleefully, proud of how well he turns you into a spectacle—a gift of his own to admire and unravel again and again.

Crocodile tugs your panties down your legs, tossing it aside carelessly as his hooded eyes catch on your bare pussy, already slick and ready for him. A deep, guttural noise catches in his throat as you part your legs—eagerly welcome him where he belongs.

“I bet he wonders what you taste like…” Crocodile muses, leaning into your aching slit. A soft gasp passes your lips when you feel the heat of his mouth on your needy cunt, tending to the ache his salacious words and desperate kisses created.

There are rare moments when Crocodile takes you apart slowly, his movements languid and measured, bringing you to the height of your pleasure at an agonizing pace, only to rip it away just when you begin to tip over the edge. And then he continues the process again and again. He leaves you delirious on days like that, wasting the hours away with your body—and perhaps today would be a day such as that if he didn’t feel he had something to prove.

If the desire to plague your every thought didn’t control him like a cruel master.

Your soft whimpers turn to shameless, needy moans, light and airy but loud enough to satisfy the wicked parts of him.

“S’good,” you whine drunkenly, your hips bucking instinctively when Crocodile’s lips latch onto your neglected clit. Your fingers thread into his long hair, pull him even closer, and he groans—it makes you arch painfully as the feel of it cascades through your body and tickles your aching nub.

Each swipe of his talented tongue pushes you closer, making the heat that pools in your stomach metastasize until you’re chanting his name, so close and ready to reward him.

He squeezes your clit with his mouth, sucks your aching bud, and you’re gone—shoved over the edge as pure hot pleasure rips through you, flows from between your legs, and Crocodile laps up your sweetness like a starved man.

You glance down at him through your lashes, eyes heavy, body slowly recovering. Crocodile pulls away from your pretty pussy with a sigh, as if he’s sad to part, and the idea alone makes your core ache with newfound need.

“Always so sweet for me.”

Your release smears his chin. It makes him look depraved and delicious. If you had the energy for it, you’d lift from your spot on the bed and kiss him. Feel the taste of yourself on his tongue, but all you can do is watch him with tired eyes as he rids himself of his clothes, tosses his lavish vest and dress shirt aside haphazardly.

His pants are the last thing to go, and you watched as if caught in a spell, buzzing with anticipation as he palms his hard dick. It’s so pretty, with the tip blushing and spilling precum that glides onto his thick fingers. Crocodile smirks, amused by the enchanted look in your eyes.

“This what you want, darling?” he asks, giving his dick a rough tug that warrants a delighted hiss. You nod—nearly sob—as you continue to watch Crocodile’s hand rub up and down the length of his lovely cock. You feel so empty—the desire to be filled in a way only he’s capable of taking precedence in your mind.

“Tell me,” Crocodile encourages as he shifts to the bed, his large frame casting you in shadows as he hovers over you. That smug smile still plays at his lips and only grows crueler as he grinds his hard length against your needy cunt.

“N-need you. Fuck—need you so—so bad. Baby please—”

The request sounds pathetic, even to your own ears, but it must be exactly what Crocodile wants to hear because he sinks into you the second the term of endearment passes your lips.

A deep grunt rips from his throat and tickles your ear pleasantly as Crocodile drags his fat cock deeper into you. You’re so warm and wet and snug, your velvety walls hugging him like this is where he belongs—where he should always be.

And he’ll admit, there’s no better place than here, between your legs. No better feeling in the whole fucking world—not even the sweet giddiness that builds inside of him each passing day as the fall of the Alabasta Kingdom draws closer. Having you writhing beneath him, breathless and lovely, is incomparable—a sensation he never tires of.

“Always take me so—mmm…well,” Crocodile rasps, transfixed on how your sloppy cunt swallows him over and over and over again. It makes him fuck you harder; drive even deeper. “This pussy was made for me. You were made for me.”

And he thinks perhaps it’s the most honest thing he’s ever said to you. Uncertainty still stirs within him—dread lingers in the corner of his mind, silent and waiting, because you complicate everything. You’re the only person who can placate the ravenous creature within him, feeding its insatiable appetite without it ever growing incurious. It wants everything you have to offer—can’t conceive of feeding from anyone who isn’t you. Not anymore.

Never.

Crocodile pushes your thighs close to your chest, drives his dick even deeper as he continues to pound into you. The sound of his powerful thrusts and your tortured moans is a beautiful symphony, lovelier than the melodic sounds of the stirring sand at dawn.

You have that lost, blissed-out look in your eyes as you blink up at him, words completely evading you as he uses you.

How could your foolish friend ever even dream of having you like this? Think he could possibly do to you what Crocodile has done?

Crocodile feels equally as hopeless as you—is incapable of thinking clearly because a confession he knows he should swallow pours from his lips without warning.

“I’ll fucking kill anyone who tries to take you from me,” he growls, digging the tip of his hook into the mattress, inches away from your head.

You should be…shocked. Unnerved by such a confession. Crocodile doesn’t pretend to be a saint, but he never mutters his murderous intent. He hides behind practiced indifference; let’s others paint a glorious picture of him, never revealing his true nature. You attempt to feign shock for a split second, but you can’t help the way your pussy clenches around him and goes mad at his declaration—some depraved, feral part of you stirring to life.

And the knowledge that a part of you likes this fucked up part of him must awaken something in him, because his thrusts grow brutal, his balls slap against your ass as he fucks you into the mattress like it’s the last time he’ll ever get the chance to. Crocodile hits deeper, the head of his throbbing dick brushing against that sweet, spongey spot inside of you, and you’re gone before you can even warn him.

You choke out something that sounds like it could be his name, tears trickling down your cheeks as you come so violently that your breath stutters. You shake through your orgasm, squirm beneath Crocodile while he fucks you through it—watching you come apart with wicked fascination and unbridled lust.

He loves how he wrecks you—how you hold onto him for dear life, as if he might slip away.

He’s ruined you, just like you’ve ruined him.

The thought alone is the final push he needs, make his dick throb violently as he explodes inside of you and fills you up the way he knows you crave—the way your perfect pussy deserves. The squelch of his seed mixing with your sweetness is enough to drive him mad. Makes him want to fuck another load into you.

Maybe in a bit, he considers as he rocks his hips sluggishly, riding out the sweet aftershock of his powerful orgasm.

You’re little more than a quivering mess under him. Your eyes are closed, your breathing is ragged…so so beautiful, and Crocodile doesn’t frighten at the tender feeling that blossoms in his chest—a sudden warmth that takes him by surprise yet seems to make all the sense in the world as he stares down at you, all while a pleasant thought crosses his twisted mind.

What’s the harm?

Why shouldn’t I revel in what’s mine?

divider credit @/cafekitsune

#sunny.fic #sir crocodile x reader #sir crocodile x y/n #crocodile x reader #crocodile x you #sir crocodile smut #x reader

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a-hazbin-reader · 2 months

Note

Hello, happy day, first of all. Secondly, I would like to see how Alastor would give the talk to his children (the talk about how babies are made) or what would happen if his children asked him how babies are made.

😳

Alastor X Reader Headcanons

✅️Romantic

❌️Platonic

✅️Parental

TW: Shenanigans!!

Description: ☝️⬆️

His kids don't really even think about where they came from, they just know that they come from their mother and father

They don't really think about how they came to be until...their mom is suddenly pregnant again

Alastor sits down the kids, holding the youngest little girl in his lap while you hold the twins at your sides

They can't help but notice the happy look you're sharing with your husband, knowing that you two are about to announce something good

Alastor adjusts the toddler in his lap and gives his twins a sharp grin, obviously unable to contain himself

"Now, my little ones~ Do you remember how you've been asking for another sibling?"

You can't help but laugh as the twins look at each in confusion then look up at their father, the little girl shaking her head

"No-"

"Well, your mother and I have good news! Due to sheer luck and absolute carelessness, your mother has managed to spawn another baby!"

You can't help but gawk at your husband, he's trying to put all the blame on you for getting pregnant!?

You don't even get a chance to speak before your husband is kissing you, chuckling at the pout on your face

"That's not entirely true, but yes, we're having another baby."

Your twins lean on you and rub their cheeks against you, their little tails wagging in excitement

The youngest girl is still too young to understand, but she copies her siblings anyways, bleating and wiggling her tail to the best of her ability

It's a sweet moment that you wish you could take a photo of but you're too busy hugging your babies and snuggling up to your husband

It's not until later that night that it becomes a problem as Alastor is putting the twins to bed and you stand in the doorway to watch

He tucks them in and kisses their foreheads before wishing them goodnight, just about to turn out the light when it happens

"Papa, where do babies come from?"

The look on Alastor's face is enough to make you laugh, hiding it behind your hand as your husband freezes in place before regaining his composure

"Why! From mommies and daddies of course! Just like your mother and I!"

The little boy sits up fully, his sister soon following after as they give him an annoyed look

"Yeah but HOW did you make us?"

The rational part of Alastor's brain tells him that he should just tell them the truth and be done with it

But when he looks at his twin's innocent faces staring up at him expectantly...he absolutely fumbles it

Alastor lies lies and LIES through his teeth, every baby myth known to man comes to his mind as he weaves some crazy tale of how babies come to be

The stork, cabbage patches, water sprites and berry bushes-ANYTHING BUT THE TRUTH

You have to leave because you can't stop laughing at your husband, barely calming down before erupting into laughter again when Alastor climbs into bed with you

"Don't laugh..! What was I supposed to say?!"

He lets out a pathetic bleat and hugs you to him tightly, rubbing your stomach in an attempt to soothe himself

"Oh I don't know...maybe just a PG version of the truth?"

You look back at your husband to see the shocked look on his face, pulling away to see if you're being serious

"Are you telling me you could look them in the eyes and tell them what we do in bed?"

You start to get up, laughing at him

"I can go do it right now if you want-"

His arms suddenly reach out and grab you, careful of your stomach even though you're not showing yet

"NO!"

He's dragging you back into bed and rolling on top of you to keep you from getting up, fixing you the most pitiful puppy eyes you've seen yet

"Please don't...let them stay innocent..."

You can't help but roll your eyes and pet his head, leaning in to kiss his forehead before laying back

"Oh, you sappy man of mine...~ I won't...~"

You keep your promise and don't tell your twins the truth, but it's all for nothing because Angel is the one who tells them

To be fair, he didn't realize it was such a big deal at the time, he just wanted to correct some misinformation

Angel was eating with the twins, holding the littlest girl in his lap while he half listened to the older two ramble on about the new baby

"So you squirts excited for another baby in the house?"

The little boy hums in thought as he munches on his snack, ears flopping as he bounces in his seat

"Yeah but I wanna know when we'll see the stork deliver them!"

"I thought the baby was gonna come out of a cabbage?"

"What about the berry bush?"

This is where Angel might've messed up...

"What!? Don't tell me your parents fed you some lame story about where babies come from! Listen, you two most certainly didn't come from no bird and this little cutie right here?"

Angel holds up the baby girl, the toddler happily kicking her feet in the air

"Didn't come from a cabbage or nothin'! You all came from your mom because your parents had sex!"

"...what is sex?"

Now Angel sees where he fucked up, sucking in a breath before looking around the room nervously

"Okay, I'll tell you, but you guys better not tell your father I told you this!"

Angel leans in and starts whispering, the twins hanging onto his every word and forgetting their snacks

Alastor is hugging you as you sit in his lap, taking the moment alone to kiss and snuggle you, gently caressing your slight baby bump

When suddenly your little girl comes running in and points at Alastor accusingly, her brother rushing in not long after

"Papa, you lied!! You had SEX!"

You have to cling to your husband suddenly as he jumps up, looking shocked and gasping dramatically

"I did NOT! Who taught you such a word?"

The little boy giggles and runs out of the room, his sister chasing after him as they chant Angel's name

"Angel did~!"

"You little brats! You promised not to tell!"

It's all you can do not to laugh, burying your face in Alastor's shoulder as he sputters out nonsense about his children and their innocence

"Oh honey~ It's not that bad, they were bound to find out anyways..! And Angel isn't the worst person to tell them..."

You gotta act fast if you want Angel to have a chance at surviving this-

"My innocent babies..."

"It's okay, darling, you still have two other babies you can lie to about how we made them~"

He visibly perks up at that, sitting back down and resting his chin on you as his tail wags

"You're right, it's not too late to lie to them..!"

This one was so much fun!!

#hazbin hotel x reader #alastor hazbin hotel x reader #alastor hazbin x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin x reader

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blue-sadie · 10 days

Text

Good Morning

You wake up needing him

The rays of sunlight peaked through the curtains making both of your body's glow, the morning coldness left goosebumps all over your naked bodies and you enjoyed eachothers presences.

You were the one that woke up first, his hair was all messy some of it sticking to his forehead as he let out soft hums in his sleep, his arm was lazily settled on your bare thigh, his finger tips twitching every so often from his dream.

You stared at him as you sneakily moved your hand from his chest downward tracing your finger tips along his abs to his v line causing a shiver to run up his spine, then as your hand went further your breathe hitched he was already hard for you.

It was fairly easy to move yourself on top of him, your thighs straddling his waist as you raise yourself to take him in, the eager movements caused him to stir from his sleep his hands finding their places on your hips planting you down on top of him.

He would chuckle and speak to you with his raspy calling you a bad girl for not asking him first but he'd soon let you continue your actions, 1 orgasm turned into 2 then 3, you wanted this so your not going to stop intil I think you've had enough he would say as he puts his hands behind his head watching you bounce on his cock.

Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Clark Kent, Hal Jordan, Berry Allen, Jake Lockley, Marc Spector, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Stephen Strange

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mypoisonedvine · 8 months

Text

𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 || william killick x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 || your husband sometimes gets carried away with his devotion to you...

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 || 3.7k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 || noncon/heavy dubcon smut (18+ only!!! rough sex, breeding kink, marking kink, hair pulling, praise and degradation, dark but the reader is lowkey into it lmaooo), jealousy and possessiveness, yandere vibes?, gaslighting/manipulation, established relationship, alcohol consumption

"Heavens, you look stunning!" Gordon announced when he saw you, opening his arms wide as an invitation for an embrace. You only went in for a quick hug, but he grabbed you tight and kissed the top of your head as you laughed delightfully. "Doesn't she look ravishing? Don't I have excellent taste?"

The other ladies nearby nodded in agreement, hanging off of him like they tended to. That was the way Gordon was: magnetic, for his personality just as much as his looks. Blonde curls with light brown eyes and that megawatt smile… as long as you'd known him, he'd never had trouble with ladies— he just made trouble for them.

"Aren't I the greatest literary agent you ever had?" he asked you, and you rolled your eyes.

"You're the only I've ever had," you reminded him. "You represented me when I was a teenage girl trying to sell my assignments from secondary school!"

"Yes, so I win by default," he decided with a big kiss to your cheek that made you scrunch up your nose.

"But that makes you the worst I ever had, too, doesn't it?" you noticed as Gordon relaxed his embrace to just an arm around your waist.

"See?" he prompted the nearby women, "Didn't I tell you? Can't get anything past this one— sharp as a whip, she is—"

As you shrugged in dismissal of the praise, you looked around the room in awe of all Gordon had done for you now. He had a taste for the extravagant, clearly; truth be told, it was nothing like you'd pictured it, and nothing like what you'd asked him for when he insisted on throwing a party.

"So, please, drink up, be merry, all of that," Gordon instructed his ladies, motioning out towards the crowded room, "get properly sloppy if you must— all in honour of this lovely woman right here… a genius of writing, and one of my longest and dearest friends."

As they departed in search of free drinks, you turned to Gordon with a nervous frown. "I'm not sure this is really all for me, Gordy," you sighed.

"Of course it is," he chuckled heartily, "I told you I'd throw something to celebrate another year of us working together— I wanted to have a gala for your novel's first publishing, but you were too busy on the honeymoon then—"

You smiled just at the mention of your honeymoon.

"All these people, doll, they're here for you," Gordon assured.

"The people, maybe; but the evening wear, the drinks, the music, the glamour? That's for you, isn't it?" you smirked.

But before he could respond to the accusation, his eyes fell somewhere at the other end of the room, and he turned you to look the same way. "Speaking of people here for you…" he trailed off.

You perked up when you saw William, slipping through the crowds of people, already approaching you with his hat tucked under his arm.

"You came!" you squealed with excitement as you jumped towards your husband, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing his cheek. "Oh, dear," you sighed when you saw that you'd printed berry-red lipstick on his cheek, starting to wipe it off with your fingers.

"I couldn't miss it, of course," he smiled at you, his voice so soft you barely heard it over the hustle and bustle of the party.

"They shouldn't have let you in," Gordon said, making you both look back at him. "It's black tie only, you know."

William smiled slightly with his lips pressed together. "He's only joking," you realised with an awkward mumble.

"The uniform seemed to go over alright," William replied, sticking his hand out towards Gordon for a shake.

"Oh, don't be so formal," Gordon laughed as he yanked William into rough side-hug. "We know each other, don't we?"

"Sort of," William answered under his breath as Gordon put a heavy hand— adorned with golden decorative rings— on his shoulder.

"Though I've half a mind to rough you up for convincing my star author to publish her next book under her married name," Gordon continued with a haughty laugh. "She's already so established with the maiden name!"

"I didn't convince her of anything, I only married her," William defended.

"Never thought you'd manage to tie this one down," Gordon smirked, "independent as she is."

"She didn't put up too much of a fight," William winked at you, and you felt a little flushed as you blinked quickly.

Apparently tired with that line of conversation, Gordon stood beside you and flipped it back to the real topic of the evening: your writing.

“She’s quite a prodigy!” Gordon exclaimed with a wide grin, wrapping an arm around you, then. “You’ve read what she writes, haven't you?”

“Some of it,” William admitted with a nervous laugh, looking down for a moment. “The rest is too sad for me, I’m afraid.”

“Her latest is a masterpiece,” Gordon assured. “Forbidden love, secrets, affairs—”

“Sordid stuff,” William frowned, shaking his head.

“Sells, though,” Gordon winked. “Men and women— we’re even selling copies in America!”

William only nodded, not seeming too convinced, and you deflated slightly as you reached out for your husband’s hand. “Aren’t you proud of me?” you asked, sounding much more pathetic than you meant to.

“Of course, darling,” he smiled at you, “always.”

“You don’t mind if I borrow your lovely wife again, do you?” Gordon beamed. “There’s some people over there she should meet— they might just sponsor the tour for her next novel.”

“All these book tours, I feel as if she’s hardly ever home,” William sighed.

“Well, we’ve got to keep her on the tours,” Gordon chuckled, “or that pretty face will go to waste!”

William’s jaw tightened as he nodded curtly in agreement, and you felt nervousness turning in your stomach.

“You should have a drink, soldier,” Gordon offered to lighten the obvious tension, handing William a wide glass of champagne.

He patted your husband a little too roughly on the back as he drank, before dragging you off to talk to some publishers or whatever— you glanced over to try to see your husband at the bar, hoping to catch him smiling at you, but you only caught his icy stare over the edge of his glass.

Enough liquor loosened you both up, and you managed to enjoy the party well into the hours of the night— it was almost one in the morning when you got home, yet you had a shocking amount of energy still coursing through you as you started to undress at the vanity. It must’ve been all the people there, and knowing they were all celebrating you; it was electrifying, even as someone who preferred to be cooped up alone with her typewriter.

William leaned against the bedroom doorway as you shed your heels and stockings, then unpinned your hair. When you saw him skulking on the reflection, you smirked to yourself, taking out one of your earrings.

“What’s the matter, love?” you asked sweetly, but he said nothing. “Love?”

“I guess I’m not much of a partier,” he explained flatly.

You smiled a little, taking out your other earring and then reaching behind your neck to unclasp your necklace. You didn’t even really notice the silence before it was broken.

“I don’t like the way he looks at you,” William said suddenly, and you scoffed— once you realised what he was talking about.

“He’s just that way,” you assured, “I don’t take it personally.”

“And all the talk of your genius, of your prodigious writing— that’s not personal?”

You shrugged slightly as you turned slightly and looked at him over your shoulder, smiling but knitting your brows together in confusion. “Isn’t that why you married me? I thought you liked the way people fawn over me.”

“But you know him,” William insisted again. “You knew him before you even met me, you work with him— you spend long hours with him, when I’m gone—”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you laughed, standing up, but he only glared at you. You tilted your head as you approached him. “William, you couldn’t really think—”

“Don’t patronise me,” he sneered, and when you reached out to touch his face, he snatched you by the wrist and yanked you closer.

“William!” you scolded, whimpering as he moved his face close to yours, nostrils flaring as he breathed heavily through them. “William, please—”

“Look at me,” he demanded, grabbing your face with his other hand. “Look at your husband, darling.”

You bit your lip to suppress its shaking, meeting his fiery— yet cold— stare. “You’re hurting me,” you whispered, tightening your hand into a weak fist as he held it painfully tight.

“I can see, you know,” he told you sharply and quietly through his teeth. “I can see the way you laugh at his jokes, and let him pull you closer. His hand on your hip—”

“It’s nothing, William,” you breathed, and his hand moved down from your face to your neck, then your chest, where he brushed his fingers over the neckline of your dress.

“Wearing the dresses he buys for you,” he noticed with a sneer. “God, he’s got you looking like his fucking whore.”

He shoved you back and you tripped to land on the bed, hiding your face in fear and shame as he stalked towards you.

“Now you want to play innocent?” William spat as he towered over you. “I told you to fucking look at me!”

“I can’t!” you sobbed, fighting when he grabbed your arms and tried to pry them apart, attempting to force you to turn onto your back. “I can’t, William, not when you’re like this!”

“You made me like this!” he accused, eventually getting you to turn over so he could pin down your wrists on either side of your head. “You made me like this,” he said again, voice lowered from shouting to a soft growl. “You let him put his filthy fucking hands all over you, didn’t you?”

“No, William,” you denied, crying weakly as you shook your head. “Never. I love you— I love you more than anything.”

“But you won’t tell me the truth,” he snarled. “The truth, darling, not another story— not another one of your goddamn stories!”

“He kissed me!” you admitted suddenly, and before you could explain, William roughly slammed his lips onto yours. You whimpered into it, struggling against his tightening grip, and he pressed you down into the bed with the weight of his body.

“Tell me how it happened,” he demanded, lips still brushing against yours as he spoke, eyes still piercing through you.

“I swear, Will, I told him to stop,” you breathed, “I pushed him away. I told him I love you, William— and I do, don’t you know how much I do?”

“He kissed you,” William repeated, rage tinting his voice.

“That’s all, I swear,” you promised.

“And you didn’t tell me—”

“I thought you’d get angry,” you defended weakly.

“You didn't tell your poor, doting husband,” he groaned, “your heartbroken husband—”

“I’m so sorry, William,” you whispered.

“Why didn’t you tell me, hm? Because you love him?”

“No! Fuck, no,” you cried.

“Because you considered it— because you thought about letting him make love to you?”

“No!” you shouted, but he suddenly put a hand over your mouth to muffle it. When you stopped, stilling briefly as he looked down at you, he took his hand away and stroked your cheek with it.

“He must have forgotten,” William whispered under his breath, petting your face and acting oddly sweet. “He must have forgotten that you… belong to me.”

You blinked quickly, shivering as he pressed a slow, short kiss to your lips.

“That these lips belong to me,” he continued with a sigh, “that this neck belongs to me—”

He kissed it, but brushed his teeth teasingly over your pulse.

“That every single, beautiful, perfect part of you,” he went on, hands running down over your chest and settling on your waist tightly, “belongs to me.”

He bit down harder on your neck and you whined.

“Did you forget too, darling?”

“William, you’ll leave marks,” you whimpered, “you’ll bruise me—”

“Good,” he purred, “then you can’t just take your ring off and act single, can you?”

“I never take off your ring, William,” you swore, “not even to bathe…”

“I still want my marks all over you,” he explained darkly, “I still want you bruised tomorrow. I don’t just want them to know you’re married, darling— I want them to know how good I fuck you. I want them to know that your husband fucks you.”

Suddenly his hands were at your dress, tearing it to shreds right down the front.

“And I want them to know,” he continued with a groan, “how much you love it.”

He flipped you over roughly, yanking you up by your hair until you were forced to scramble onto your hands and knees. Your head dropped defeatedly when he let go of your hair, and he held your hips tightly with one hand as he opened his trousers with the other.

“W-wait,” you stammered, but he ignored you, reaching up under the tatters of your dress to yank your girdle and panties down. Before you could beg for some mercy again he slammed into you, making you choke out a wavering cry; instantly he was fucking you hard and fast, making you shake all over and try to reach back to grab his hips so he might slow down. “W-Will, love, please—” you whimpered helplessly.

“Fuck, if that son of a bitch could see you like this,” William sneered. “If he could see you now— he’d know who you belong to, wouldn’t he? If he could see you on your hands and knees, begging for me…”

He fucked you even harder— his hand reached up to hold onto your shoulder so you wouldn’t fall forward from the force of it.

“If he could see what a dirty little wife you are,” he groaned, digging his fingers into your skin— more marks, you were sure. “Fuck, you’re soaking me already, darling.”

A whimper slipped from your mouth as he leaned down, holding you tightly and speaking right by your ear.

“You like it, don’t you? Playing with me,” he hissed. “You like driving your poor husband crazy, thinking you might be stepping out on him?”

You shook your head, choking on a moan as he slowed his movements to make sure every thrust reached as deep into you as possible. “N-no, love, no—”

“You like how I fuck you when I’m angry, don’t you?” he went on anyways, biting the shell of your ear until your channel clenched around him. “Is that what got you so wet, darling?”

Biting your lip to hide your moans, you held tighter onto the sheets beneath you, and one of his hands came down to wrap around yours.

“So sweet,” he cooed, “such a sweet little wife. You look so innocent, darling, they have no idea what a slut you are— none of them do, but fuck… they will.”

He sped up again and you whined loudly; the pain and the pleasure together made your legs shake, hardly able to hold you up on the bed. He snatched one of the nearby pillows and shoved it under your hips— it kept them up when he began to fuck you so hard that you fell forward, and the angle hit just right inside you as a desperate scream was muffled by your face falling into the sheets.

"Yes, there she is," he praised, "my whore wife— how she loves to be fucked, reminded of her place. This is your place, isn't it? In my bed, sweet cunt taking my cock? Not out with that awful man— not on those godforsaken book tours—"

When you tried to reach back to keep him from going too deep again, he grabbed your wrists and pinned them back beside your face as he kept thrusting even faster, making the whole bed bounce and shake.

"You can take it all, darling," he promised with a groan, "you can fit your husband inside, all the way— fuck, you're so beautiful like this. You're so perfect, my angel…"

He buried his face in your neck as he thrusted into you, his own moans rivalling yours while he kissed your neck and ear and shoulder.

No one could accuse your husband of lacking passion, even if they didn’t see him like this— which you really hoped they didn’t. From the very beginning, he’d pursued you fervently: he read one of your short stories, and wrote rather effusive fan mail to the magazine in which it was published. And then when he came to your publisher’s office hoping to meet you, he took one look at you and became properly obsessed. He insisted you were the love of his life… and before you’d even really gotten to know him! You were nearly offended at first; but the longer his seduction went on, the more you couldn’t help but fall for him. Strong yet tender, kind yet stern, intelligent yet sensitive… and creative, much more than you expected. He had quite an imagination.

Unfortunately, that imagination had a dark side, especially with his tendency to be quite jealous. It had never gone this far before, though.

He pulled out of you, only a moment of relief and disappointment, before turning you onto your back and hovering over you. “Look at me,” he demanded again, though his voice was low and gentle now, “look up at me, beautiful.”

He tilted your chin up with two fingers, admiring the tears in your eyes with a tender sort of expression.

“Oh, my darling,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss your neck as he slowly pushed back inside you. Your back arched and he slipped one arm under it to hold you tightly as he set a more careful pace than before— though still not all that slow. "My beautiful girl— you can't help it, can you? The way men feel about you."

A slightly deeper thrust made you gasp and reach up to hold his shoulders, blinking through the watering in your eyes.

"Of course he kissed you," he breathed, "if you were another man's wife, I'd kiss you too. I'll always have to have you, darling, nothing could stop me."

"I pushed him away, love," you swore again.

"I know, I know," he cooed. "But I still can't stand to think of it… of my darling wife being kissed by someone else. He would've only done that if he thought you'd kiss him back, you know— he thought you would let him fuck you."

He picked up his pace, staring deep into your eyes and gripping you tightly.

“When you’re pregnant, then he’ll know,” William announced proudly as he held your hips. “Then everyone who sees you will know: you fucking belong to me.”

Overwhelmed by it, you felt yourself get even hotter and slicker between the legs at the idea of that. He was wrong about you wanting to make him jealous, but neither of you could deny now that you got some gratification out of it.

“Say it,” he ordered.

“I belong to you,” you promised, “I’m yours— you know I’m yours, love, always—”

He hummed in agreement, pumping deeper and faster into you as your head spun. “You’ll be the most beautiful expectant wife there ever was,” he purred, a rough hand tugging your bra out of the way and groping your breasts. “These nice and full— all of you swollen and soft—”

“W-William,” you stammered, hardly able to breathe with his weight on you and the way he filled you.

“Big belly,” he cooed, “and my baby inside— our baby. Fuck, how can I wait to see you like that?”

“F-fuck,” you choked out, “don’t stop, please… please, my love—”

“I’ll fill you, darling,” he promised lowly, baring his teeth as you started to fall into it— your head tilting back into the mattress, pleasure overtaking you, your fingers digging into his shoulders. “I’ll give you everything I have, every night, until it takes—”

“Please,” you begged, holding him tighter and lifting your face up with what little energy you had to bury it in his shoulder. You cried from the intensity of it all— from everything— as shudders wracked your body. He groaned as he felt you pulsing around him, kissing your face and groaning beside your ear.

“What a good little wife,” he praised as you came, “what a perfect little wife— you want it, don’t you? To be pregnant, have my child?”

You barely managed to nod, you were so overcome by every sensation running through you. But you did, and he growled proudly.

“You will, my angel,” he promised, “I’ll make sure of it. Just say one more time that you love me, darling— that you’ll always be mine—”

“I-I love you so much, William,” you swore, muffled in the jacket that you clutched needily. “I’m yours— I’m always yours— oh!”

You lost track of your words, but it didn’t matter then because you were drowned out by his gasps: heavy, low breaths as he pressed into you one last time and filled you completely.

Instantly, you were flooded with even more emotions: shame, ecstasy, confusion, hurt, love. It was too much to take even if you weren’t still slightly tipsy and entirely sleep-deprived, but altogether it just turned you into a mess.

After coming down from his high— though he was still catching his breath— William seemed to sober up in a second as you cried harder. Cooing gently at you, he wrapped his arms tighter around you and hugged you close.

“I’m sorry, darling,” he breathed as he held you tightly, “I’m so sorry. You know it’s just my love that makes me this way— I just can’t stand to see another man lay his hand on you… I just can’t imagine you with anyone else, it breaks my heart, darling.”

“You break my heart, William,” you whispered back, still hiding in his shoulder, “when you think I could ever hurt you like that. When you accuse me of something like that—”

“I just get scared, darling,” he sighed, petting your back slowly as he rocked you in his arms. “I just get scared that you’re too good to be true. That this beautiful creature can’t be all mine.”

You smiled against his skin, holding onto him tighter. “I love you so much, William… I’d never— you have to believe me, I’d never—”

“Shh,” he soothed softly, as he held your head and kissed the top of it. “I know, darling, I know. Because you belong to me.”

#william killick x reader #william killick smut #william killick dark fic #dark!william killick smut #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy dark fic

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