#dr. crane fluff

[corrupte3d-mindz]

Sleepless Nights

Thomas Shelby x Pregnant Wife Reader

Summary: Thomas cares for his wife.

Wordcount: 2.3k

Warnings:

soft Thomas!, kissing, soft talk, lovely husband things.

Thomas prowls the grand corridors of Arrow House with a mixture of determination and unease. The mansion is a labyrinth of opulence, each corner dripping with the wealth he’s fought tooth and nail to secure. Yet, tonight, none of that matters. His mind is solely focused on one thing—finding his pregnant wife.

The house, with its vast rooms and endless hallways, feels both protective and suffocating. The heavy silence is broken only by the distant ticking of an antique clock, a stark reminder of time slipping away. Thomas’s polished shoes echo on the marble floors as he moves through the dimly lit spaces, his keen eyes scanning every shadow and crevice. The opulent decor, a testament to his success, now seems to mock him with its cold grandeur. He enters the library, where shelves upon shelves of leather-bound books line the walls, their spines gleaming in the faint light. The room smells of old paper and cigarette a sanctuary for his restless mind on many nights. But tonight, it offers no solace. He moves on, his pace quickening, his heartbeat mirroring his urgency.

As he strides through the dining hall, the long table stands like an island in the middle of the room, set for a feast that never seems to be eaten. The chandelier above it sparkles, casting prismatic reflections around the room, but Thomas’s eyes are unseeing. He is a man on a mission, driven by an anxiety he rarely allows himself to feel.

Finally, he reaches the living room, a vast space dominated by an enormous fireplace. The flames within flicker and dance, casting a warm, golden glow over the room. And there she is. His wife, his beacon in the storm of his life, sitting on the couch in an awkward yet somehow comfortable position. The sight of her instantly softens his stern expression, though worry still shadows his features. She’s nestled into the corner of the couch, her swollen belly making her position look ungainly to anyone else, but Thomas knows better. He sees the way her hand rests protectively over her stomach, the way her eyes are half-closed in a state of meditative calm. She’s wearing a loose, flowing nightgown that accentuates her maternal glow, the fabric cascading around her like a gentle waterfall.

“Love,” Thomas says softly, his voice a gravelly whisper that cuts through the silence. “Y’alright there?” His thick Birmingham accent adds a rough edge to the tender words, a contrast that defines him so well.

She looks up, her eyes meeting his with a tired but loving gaze. “Tommy,” she replies, a small smile curving her lips. “Just needed a moment. The baby’s been restless tonight.”

Thomas nods, understanding immediately. He crosses the room in a few strides, his presence a mix of power and protectiveness. He sits beside her, the couch dipping slightly under his weight. Gently, he places a hand over hers, feeling the life within her. It’s a moment of connection, grounding him in a way few things can.

“Been lookin’ for you,” he murmurs, his eyes scanning her face for any signs of discomfort. “Worried me, y’know.”

She chuckles softly, the sound like music to his ears. “I’m fine, Tommy. Just... needed to be alone for a bit.”

Thomas’s eyes soften further, the hard lines of his face easing as he takes in her serene expression. “Y’should rest more, love. Don’t want you overexertin’ y’self.” His voice is firm yet gentle, the protective husband surfacing through the tough gangster exterior.

She nods, leaning her head back against the couch and closing her eyes. “I know. It’s just... there’s so much to do. So much to prepare for.”

Thomas sighs, his hand moving to gently caress her cheek. “Leave it to me. I’ll handle everythin’. You just focus on our little one, yeah?”

He could see the strain in her eyes, the toll the pregnancy was taking on her. His heart ached for her, wishing he could take away her discomfort. "I wish I could do more," he said softly, his voice tinged with regret.

She smiled again, squeezing his hand. "You're here, Tommy. That's enough."

But it wasn't enough for him. He wanted to do more, to alleviate her pain in any way he could. His mind raced, trying to think of something, anything, that might help. Then she spoke again, her voice hesitant.

“Tommy, Ada said if it gets too heavy, you can lift my belly a bit with your hands. It might help.”

Tommy's brow furrowed as he processed her words. It was a simple gesture, yet one that could provide her with some relief. He looked into her eyes, seeing the vulnerability there, and he knew he had to try. "Alright, love," he said, his voice firm with determination. "Let's give it a go."

He moved closer, positioning himself in front of her. His hands, rough and calloused from years of hard work, gently interlaced under her belly. He could feel the warmth of her skin through the fabric of her dress, the gentle rise and fall of her breath. Slowly, he lifted, supporting the weight of their child. She let out a sigh of relief, her body relaxing into his touch.

"Better?" he asked, his voice soft.

She nodded, her eyes closing once more. "So much better. Thank you, Tommy."

He held her there, his strong arms supporting her, providing the comfort she so desperately needed. In that moment, all the worries and burdens of their world faded away, leaving only the two of them. For the first time in a long while, he allowed himself to simply be present, to cherish the moment.

"You're incredible, you know that?" he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "Strongest woman I know."

She smiled, a soft blush creeping into her cheeks. "I have to be, married to you."

He chuckled, the sound low and rough. "Yeah, I suppose you do." His gaze softened as he looked at her, his eyes reflecting the depth of his feelings. "But I wouldn't change a thing. Not a bloody thing."

They stayed like that for a while, the silence between them comfortable and reassuring. Tommy's thoughts drifted to their future, to the life they were building together. It was a life filled with uncertainty and danger, but it was theirs. And as long as they had each other, he knew they could face anything. Eventually, he shifted, carefully lowering his hands and easing her back into a more comfortable position. He smiles, before cupping her face; his hands calloused from years of work, are surprisingly gentle as they cup her cheeks. He brushes a few stray strands of hair away from her face, tucking them behind her ear with a care that belies his hardened exterior. The feel of her skin under his fingertips is a reminder of all that he has fought for, and all that he stands to lose.

“Love,” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble, thick with his Birmingham accent. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” The words are simple, but they carry a weight of sincerity that is unmistakable.

She looks up at him, her eyes filled with a mixture of love and fatigue. Pregnancy has been both a blessing and a challenge, but in this moment, with Thomas so close, she feels a sense of peace. He leans in, closing the small distance between them, and presses his lips to hers. The kiss is intense, filled with a passion that speaks volumes of his devotion. It’s not just a kiss; it’s a promise, a silent vow that he will always be there for her.

His hands move from her face to her shoulders, sliding down her arms and resting on her swollen belly. He can feel the life growing inside her, their child, the future of the Shelby legacy. The thought fills him with a fierce protectiveness, a determination to shield them both from the dangers of his world. He pulls back slightly, resting his forehead against hers, his breath mingling with hers in the quiet intimacy of the moment.

“You’ve got to know,” he whispers, his voice husky with emotion, “I’d do anything for you. Anythin’ to keep you safe.” His words are punctuated by the gentle movement of his hands, caressing her belly as if to reassure both her and their child of his unwavering commitment.

Thomas stirred from sleep, his body instantly alert despite the lingering remnants of exhaustion. The warmth of the morning sun filtered through the heavy drapes, casting faint, golden lines across the bed where he lay. His hand reached instinctively to the other side, expecting to feel the familiar form of his wife beside him. The cool, empty sheets met his touch instead, sending a wave of unease through him. He sat up abruptly, the fine sheen of cold sweat on his forehead catching the light. He ran a hand through his dark hair, pushing it back from his face as his sharp blue eyes scanned the room.

The clock on the mantel ticked softly, marking the time as just past nine in the morning. Thomas swung his legs over the edge of the bed, the chill of the wooden floor against his bare feet grounding him. He rose to his full height, stretching out the tension in his muscles. He was dressed only in his boxers, the morning air cool against his skin. The bedroom was silent, save for the sounds that nature produced in the waking hours of the morning.

His mind raced through possibilities as he left the bedroom, each step measured and deliberate. The house was vast, and his wife could be anywhere, but his instinct told him to check the usual places first. The corridor outside their bedroom was dimly lit, the heavy curtains drawn against the morning light. Thomas moved with purpose, his eyes darting to each doorway as he passed. He checked the nursery, but it was empty save for the soft glow of the morning sun filtering through the window. The sitting room was similarly deserted, the furniture untouched and the air still.

Thomas’s worry deepened with each empty room. He descended the grand staircase, his hand trailing along the polished banister. The ground floor was no different – the study, the drawing room, all empty. He paused at the doorway to the dining room, listening intently. The faintest clink of cutlery reached his ears, a sound so subtle it could easily have been missed. Relief washed over him, but he kept his composure as he moved toward the kitchen, the source of the noise.

The kitchen was a contrast to the rest of the house – warm, filled with the rich aroma of freshly baked bread and other culinary delights. The sight that greeted Thomas made him pause in the doorway. His wife was at the counter, her back to him, completely absorbed in her task. She was preparing her favorite pregnancy craving, a look of contentment on her face as she worked. Her hair was loosely tied back, and she had her loose, flowing nightgown, made of soft, breathable fabric, was adorned with delicate lace and ribbon trims. He had it made especially for her.

A soft chuckle escaped Thomas’s lips, the tension in his shoulders easing. "Hungry, eh? For whatever you're eatin' at what... nine in the mornin'..." His voice was low, the thick Birmingham accent adding a familiar roughness to his words.

She turns to him, a small smile playing on her lips. Her eyes are bright, despite the early hour, and there's a certain glow about her that he finds both endearing and reassuring. "Well... I originally woke up because I had to throw up... but then it wore off and I just sat there for a bit before I actually did throw up..." she explains, her voice trailing off as she takes another bite.

He crosses the room to her, his worry giving way to a tender affection. He reaches out, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face, his touch gentle and careful. "You alright now?" he asks, his voice softening. "You and the little one?"

She nods, placing the bowl on the counter. "Yes, we're fine. Just one of those mornings."

Thomas wraps an arm around her waist, pulling her close. He can feel the slight swell of her belly against his skin, a constant reminder of the new life growing inside her. "You should've woken me," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

She laughs softly, resting her head against his chest. "You need your rest too, Tommy. Besides, it’s nothing I can’t handle."

He holds her for a moment longer, savoring the quiet intimacy of the moment. The kitchen, with its warm morning light and the comforting presence of his wife, feels like a sanctuary. A stark contrast to the chaos and violence that often defines his life outside these walls. He pulls back slightly, looking down at her with a mixture of love and concern. "If you need anythin', you come get me. Don’t try to be too strong on your own."

She nods, understanding the depth of his worry. "I will, I promise."

They both stood there looking at each other.

"Any plans for today?" he asks, breaking the comfortable silence.

She looks up at him, a thoughtful expression on her face. "I was thinking of organizing the nursery a bit more. And maybe take a walk in the garden if the weather holds."

He nods, appreciating her simple plans. "Sounds good. I’ve got a meeting later, but I’ll be back by lunch. We can go for that walk together."

She smiles, the idea pleasing her. "I’d like that."

Author’s Notes:

Credit for the smol sparkle divider: CafeKitsune

[cillianmesoftlyyy]

Masterlist (Cillianmesoftlyyy)

Last updated: 12/10/24

As requested, here yah go my lovelies! Series are indented separately to keep them together. One-shot stories are listed in numbered format. Requested fics have a "⭐️"

Neil Lewis (Watching the Detectives 2007):

The Gumshoe is a Girl's Best Friend (fluff)

Horror Movies (smut) Horror Movies Pt 1 Horror Movies Pt2

As You Wish (smut) As You Wish Pt 1 As You Wish Pt 2 ⭐️

Tommy Shelby (Peaky Blinders):

In Love, in War (smut): In Love, in War Pt 1 In Love, in War Pt 2 In Love, in War Pt 3 In Love, in War Pt 4 In Love, in War Pt 5

At the Cabaret: At the Cabaret Pt 1 At the Cabaret Pt 2 At the Cabaret Pt 3 At the Cabaret Pt 4 At the Cabaret Pt 5

Take It on the Run (smut): Take It on the Run Take It on the Run Pt 2

Cillian Murphy:

Under the Weather (fluff)

Method Acting (smut)

So New (fluff)

Like a Good Neighbor... (smut)

Cut the Shit-delusion, Sweetheart (fluff)

Nerves (smut) ⭐️

Dr. Jonathan Crane (Batman Trilogy):

The Experiment (smut + my first work) The Experiment Pt 1 The Experiment Pt 2 The Experiment Pt 3

I Can Fix That... (smut) I Can Fix That Pt 1 I Can Fix That Pt 2 I Can Fix That Pt 3 I Can Fix That Pt 4

Moth to a Flame (smut) Moth to the Flame Pt 1 Moth to the Flame Pt 2 Moth to the Flame Pt 3 Moth to the Flame Pt 4

Jonathan Breech (On the Edge 2001):

The Ward (smut) The Ward Pt 1 The Ward Pt 2 The Ward Pt 3

Tom (The Party 2017):

Sweet Revenge (smut)

Agent Lenny Miller (Anna 2019):

How About It, Agent Miller? (smut)

Don't Ruin It (smut)

William Killick (The Edge of Love 2009):

What I Want... (smut) What I Want... What I Want... Pt 2 ⭐️

Tired and Torn (smut) Tired and Torn Pt 1

Matthew Joy (In the Heart of the Sea 2015):

Wary Sailor (smut) Wary Sailor Pt. 1 Wary Sailor Pt. 2 Wary Sailor Pt. 3 Wary Sailor Pt. 4 Wary Sailor Pt. 5

The Castaway (fluff/smut) The Castaway Pt. 1 ⭐️

Mike Kiernan (Broken 2012):

Academic Validation (fluff)

Raymond Leon (In Time 2011)

Do You Know How to Bend? (smut)

[darlingsfandom]

Let Me Show You .

Dr. Johnathan Crane x Plus Sized! Reader.

TW: humiliation , choking, breeding, fingering, p in v, unprotected sex!

Lighting flashed across the sky giving some light into your cell where you laid on the soft bed. It wasn’t your fault that you ended up in here, how long does it last until you can’t the taunting anymore? For you it lasted your whole life until ten months ago when the coil inside of you snapped!

You had made yourself face the public and go out one night. You just needed one night to go out and try to be social but that ended with you on top of a man punching him until your knuckles were bloodied and bruised as he laid there laughing until he started to go unconscious. He had pulled on your hair while you were trying to make your way to the bars bathroom making you gasp so he took it as a challenge with his friends. He teased you by calling you ugly names , commenting on how your clothes really outlined your rolls , how you looked like a made up pig! You had enough! The words you’ve heard for your whole life finally took its toll and now here you were lying in the asylum.

You stood trail and since you had a squeaky clean record along with one of the best public defenders in all of Gotham you only had to serve six months unless you followed good behavior and could get out earlier. The sentence was fair and you were to also be under the care of Dr.Johnathan Crane Gothams best psychiatrist. That was the best part. He didn’t see you as another patient, probably because almost everyone there was another male and you were one of the only females in there. Of course they didn’t have love handles or tummy rolls like you and it still irritated you.

The sound of your cell opening perked up your ears making you sit up.

“Good evening Y/N” The sly smile on his lips made you tingle in a way that it shouldn’t. Dr.Crane waited for you to stand so he could take you to his office for your mandatory session. Both of you walked in silence until you were in his office standing nervously . “You know you can sit. You’ve sat on that couch every day for the last month, what’s the matter now ?” He circled around like a shark in water making your thighs clench.

“What if I break…”

“You’re not going to break it!” He snapped at you before grabbing your shoulders and looking into your eyes. “Go sit on it!” You swallowed hard before you carried yourself to the black leather and sat on the edge. “All the way.” He spoke up. You nodded and sat in the middle of the couch folding your hands in your lap.

“Clearly you’re not doing what I’ve told you.” Dr. Crane sat in his own chair with his legs crossed. You couldn’t argue with him. He raised his eyebrow at you and clicked his tongue before pinching the bridge of the his nose.

“I know you think that since I’m male that I know nothing of how the female brain works. That I don’t understand that when you look in the mirror that your poke at all your insecurities. You THINK that you’re ugly because your stomach folds and hangs, your arms jiggle when you raise them and your delicious thighs…” he coughed “I mean your thighs, yes they touch and rub but you need that.”

Your mouth hung open for a split second when he called your thighs delicious, that was a joke right? You looked down at your feet while holding your stomach. Dr.Crane stood up , walked up to you , grabbed your hand and stood you up. He walked with you out of his office, down the hallway to a part of the asylum you had never seen before. It was dark, wet and yet still felt welcoming. He opened a door and pulled you inside.

“Where?” Before you could finish your sentence he had his hand over your mouth.

“Shh. This is our secret.” He whispered in your ear when he flicked on the light. The room wasn’t big, it was poorly lit, a single bed in the middle of the room and in the corner was a giant mirror. He walked you over to the mirror and made you stand there. You tried to turn away but he grabbed you by your wide chin and forced you to look at yourself.

“You’ve heard how ugly you are , how you’re unwanted , unattractive…” his words were bringing tears to your eyes as you looked yourself in the mirror. “You look like a barnyard animal, but that’s what years of damage do to the ego. You’ve been brainwashed into thinking you’re all those things.”

Dr. Crane stood behind you in the mirror holding your face with a soft grip. “Now I want you to say all the nice things about your body.”

“I can’t ! My body is ug-“ His hand quickly wrapped around your throat and squeezed enough to take your breath away.

“Say something nice.” He gritted his teeth against your ear. He let go of your throat making you gasp.

“My… body.. “ your hands ran over your stomach as he watched with darkened eyes.

“Is soft?” He gave you a decent smile.

“There you go. Nothing wrong with having a soft body.” His hands ran over your sides before giving your love handles a big squeeze making you giggle. “How cute!” Crane gave your hips another squeeze before pulling them towards his own hips.

“Tell me something else nice about your soft beautiful body.” His words had a hint of lust wrapped around them. Crane watched as you chewed your lip looking at yourself through the dirty glass. His hand found your throat again and squeezed it enough to make your eyes roll back.

“It’s not that hard darling!” Crane used his free hand to grope your boobs. “These are nice! Say something nice about them.” He let go of you with a small shove making you stumble forward. Your hands gripped the mirror. No thoughts were in your mind , no words could leave your mouth.

“Fine, if you can’t say it…. I’ll show you.” His hands reached up and ripped opened your shirt exposing your breasts. “See!” He yanked you up straight by your hair making you whine. The little whine made him smirk. “Look at your breasts!”

“They’re not that …” Crane slapped your face making you whimper before forcing you to look at yourself in the mirror.

“You’re too hard on yourself darling. You’re a beautiful girl .” He finished ripping your clothes off making you stand in front of the mirror completely naked. He grinned ear to ear. “Look at you!” He ran his hands all over your body giving your most hated areas a squeeze. “I don’t know anyone couldn’t find you attractive. You’re a smart young lady with beautiful curves, delicious thighs and your breasts … “ Crane kissed the side of your neck making your knees buckle. He held your hips as he bent you forward . Your fingers gripped the sides of the mirror while Crane dragged his finger tips over your thighs.

Your body felt hot from his touch. You couldn’t tell if he just wanted you for sex or if he truly did find your body to be beautiful. Your thoughts disappeared when his hands spread your thighs.

“Since you’re struggling to accept how beautiful you are, maybe this will teach you.” His index finger slid inside of you while his other hand squeezed the side of your throat keeping your head turned to face the mirror. “It’s my job as your doctor to make sure you get those nasty ideas out of your head.” Crane worked his finger inside of you twisting it in a way you’ve never felt. You were so used to your hand and toys but to feel his slender finger going deeper than your use to felt amazing. He slid another finger inside of you while keeping the soft pressure on your neck. Your eyes were closed which angered him until he heard you mumbling.

“feels so good.” Your voice was trembling which made him smile.

“Yeah? Why does it feel good?”

“Because you’re touching me! You see my soft body!”

“Good girl!” Crane nibbled your ear lobe while fingering your pussy like his life depended on it. “You’re so close, I can tell.”

“Yes! Yes! Yes! Dr. crane I’m so close!” You cried out. The coil in your stomach was about to snap right there at any second until he pulled his fingers away making you whine.

“Oh honey, you don’t get to cum now. You were a bad girl. You can’t even tell me what you like about your body.” Crane licked his fingers clean while watching how you pouted your bottom lip at him through the mirror. Once he was done he grabbed your hand and took you over to the old style medical bed that had leather straps.

“Nooo!” You went to run but he grabbed your hair and yanked it backwards.

“Don’t be dumb. I’m not going to hurt you.” He shoved you down on the bed making your squirm below him. You gulped in panic as he huffed. “Normally yes, my patients get strapped down and are subjected to unusual treatments for therapy but not you.” He stood up and quickly restrained your arms. “You my dear… I’m going to make you a mommy.”

Your eyes went huge! You quickly tried to struggle against the leather which made him chuckle before gripping your chin. “Stop! Or I will subject you to those type of treatments.” He gave you a little smack before standing there undressing himself slowly. Tears filled your eyes until you looked at him and it flooded your mind… Dr.Crane was on the opposite end of the scale. He wasn’t buff or anything, he did understand your pain. People always judged his body, how fragile he looked. He was beautiful to you and he had spent all this time making you see that you are beautiful just the way you are.

“Dr. Crane..” you mumbled as he crawled on top of you. His fingers traced over your cheek gently almost lovingly.

“What is it ?” He pushed his glasses up his nose.

“Why me? Why make me a mommy? Why would you put a baby in me?” You turned your lips out at him as he looked into yours.

“Because you are mine! You’re the smartest girl I’ve ever met. Not mention you can kill a man with your bare fists. A strong, smart, beautiful woman, you’re what I’ve always needed and now I’ve you and you’re not going anywhere . You see…” his hands grabbed at your thighs and spread them open . He grinned down at your pussy before lining the head of his cock up to your folds, slowly he slid in while grabbing your hands and locking your fingers together.

“When I heard about, I followed you. I watched your trail closely. I learned everything I could about you. I need you! You need me.” He pushed his cock all the way inside of you making you scream. “Oh pretty girl!” He moaned out. “That’s a good girl.” Crane closed his eyes at the feeling of how tight you were squeezing his cock. You laid there with tears running down your cheeks as he thrusted into you. Your legs were still unrestrained which meant you could try to kick him off, but he held your legs up to drill into you deeper making you moan in pleasure because he was reaching at spot you’ve never felt.

“You’re going to be such a beautiful mommy! Going to make such beautiful, intelligent babies with you !” His mouth hung open while he looked deep into your ears as he fucked you faster. You looked into his eyes softly while wrapping your legs around him tightly.

“Good girl, you want me to make you a mommy so badly .” He leaned down and kissed you passionately , it was romantic and sweet. Crane felt his own orgasm about to break as he slowed down his thrusting holding your hips tightly. He cried out your name with a loud groan and held you in place as his cum shot deep into your cervix.

“You’re going to make me a beautiful mommy.” You whimpered feeling his cum fill you up. Crane looked up at you with a smile . “I knew that would fix you.” He huffed as he held your legs in the same upward position. Crane reached down between your bodies and found your clit. He rubbed it hard until the familiar feeling was about to wave over you.

“Cum for me pretty girl!” He looked into your eyes as your orgasm gushed out of you. You choked out his name as he held your face in his hands.

“You did such a good job. And don’t worry , if this time didn’t take…. I’m not going to stop until you and I have made the most precious thing ever.” His words were sincere. Dr.Crane had made his mark on you more ways than one and you would have never imagined that this is how you ended up in life, but all of it lead you here as his.

[prettypeppermint]

j.

for dr. j. crane.

You were a fairy cuddled up in a perfectly curved, perfectly velvety petal as your naked peaks and valleys cradled into his strong figure. You felt safe in his firmness. He felt like home.

His hand tapped at your thigh, matching the rhythm of his heart, as his other hand gripped an open book by the spine. Your knees were tucked; cheek and palm on the ebb and flow of his lungs; breaths steady and deep. You could lay here for hours: naked and languid and melting into his stalwart huskiness.

You looked up at him--at the slight crescents between his brows and the piercing focus of his irises as they glided across the page. Something in his jaw would twitch every now and then, and his Adam's apple would bob as he swallowed a stoic thought. He felt your head move and peered down, and all he saw were your eyes--that ravishingly, undeniably feminine gaze.

Your love would've been a dangerous game with anyone else. But with him, you felt like nothing could ever hurt you. You felt invincible. Because he was the one who held you at night--who you would cry on and nestle up to when you had a nightmare.

"What's on your mind, pretty girl? Hm?" He brought his arm up to your small head and petted your hair, his long eyelashes dampening his gaze as it melted into yours.

The way he looked at you; it was as if you were the only thing that mattered in the world.

Oh, and his voice--rugged with fatigue and slick from hours of silence. You loved hearing your name slip from his throat and jump off his tongue as if it belonged somewhere deep in his core.

You felt your eyelids grow heavy as his palm continually smoothed your hair down in gentle herculean motions. Protection and safeness radiated from his every fiber. You never felt so treasured.

"Nothing," you sighed, breaking eye contact as you rested your cheek on his chest once more. His lips made their way to the top of your head as he gave you a soft peck before continuing to glide his palm down your shiny hair. After a moment of silence which swelled with the intermingling of your peaceful breaths, you added, "I want to stay like this forever. With you." It came out groggy as you drifted off in his arms.

A quiet smile tugged at his lip. "I'll make sure of it. Just for you."

It was the last thing you heard before waking up to cold sheets and an empty bed. You knew he had to flee in the middle of the night. You knew it was to keep you safe. You sat on your knees with your calves splayed out, your wispy locks of hair tickling your bare shoulders. On the pink, satin pillow next to you was a note:

My girl,

I'm sorry for yet another late-night disappearance. Trouble in paradise, it seems.

I've left you a gift underneath your pillow. Use it when you need me and I'm not there.

I love you always, j.

Your fingers slipped under the mound of satin and prodded at something cold and metal, but not foreign in your grasp. Pulling it out from underneath the pillow, your slender fingers wrapped around the barrel of a Weble-Fosbery automatic revolver.

A single pink ribbon had been neatly wrapped around the grip, adorning it with a small, powder pink bow. As you brought the firearm closer to your face, you noticed your initials carved into the frame in pretty, cursive letters.

Just for you.

x.

[where-dreamers-go]

“Blanket” Jonathan Crane x Fem! Reader

(A/N: Another older insert reader from about two years ago that I finally got around to finishing. Here’s one where Jonathan and Reader were both celebrating that neither of them had crossed paths with Batman for a whole week. Then things kind of heat up from there. Jonathan still needs the reassurance that Reader is being true in their relationship because he’s not used to that. This is kinda related to my previous Jonathan Crane fanfics discussing Batman’s opinion on their relationship. Minors Do Not Interact with this. Warnings: Minor angst, romance, first time together, lovemaking, hand job (both), unprotected sex, and mentions of Jonathan having past heartbreak. Word Count: 2,124 words)

~~~

A celebration was in order. A disguised excuse to be together and leaving adult responsibilities for another day.

Neither you nor Jonathan had crossed paths with the Batman for over a full work week. No captured Crane and you weren’t wrangled into another lecture about being too close to Scarecrow.

Honestly, it was a relief.

Over at your apartment, Jonathan had prepared dinner. A little something warm, hot, and homey. You had insisted cooking was his secret skill. The meal and time together was lovely. Something you cherished.

Cleaning the dishes could had been worse, but at least the plate didn’t break when it slipped from your grasp.

You were lucky. Yet it was a firm reminder to Jonathan and yourself that you were capable of being distracted.

Drying your hands, you could see Jonathan pushing his sleeves just that much further up to expose his forearms.

Could it be the glimpse of skin when he was otherwise all covered up?

Was it the lean muscle that lead to Jonathan’s dexterous hands?

Maybe you simply missed holding his hand after a long week?

Probably all of the above. And then some. You did adore the man for all that he was and would be.

The towel stilled in your hands as Jonathan’s arms encircled your waist.

“Do you have any after-dinner plans?” Asked Jonathan, his breath tickling your ear.

“I was thinking we could watch a movie,” you said and hung the kitchen towel up to dry. “Maybe share that really soft blanket I got a few weeks ago.”

“Sounds very domestic.”

“And I’m hoping to keep it that way. You know.” You gestured towards the windows on the other side of the living room. Ones that had been covered with curtains all evening.

“He couldn’t be that irritating.” Jonathan tightened his hold around you.

“It’s been a week…”

The two of you grew silent. Lost in thoughts of the Batman dropping by to lure you away from Doctor Crane. Again.

So much for getting handsy in the kitchen.

Sighing, your shoulders lowered. “I just wanted a little celebration with a sprinkle of romance. No fear of nocturnal creatures.”

Jonathan’s lips met your ear. “You’re not afraid of him, are you?”

You tilted your head. “More annoyed, I think.”

Humming, he pressed a firm kiss to your exposed neck.

“More annoying still that we’re talking about him when I finally have you all to myself. A great feat these days.” You smiled contently as Jonathan continued giving slow, strategically placed kisses. “And…we could just shut off all the lights,” you suggested.

“Skip the movie.”

“Get under the blanket.”

“Share body heat.”

“And a few other things?” You folded your arms over Jonathan’s, hopeful.

His lips curved upward against your skin. Lean hips pressed closer to you from behind.

“I’ll get the lights,” he whispered.

“Meet you on the couch.”

You turned your head and gave Jonathan a long, generous kiss. One you two would surely continue.

Jonathan slipped out of your grasp and gave you a head start. Stilling his hand by the light-switch, he was patient.

You were quick to cross the floor. Unfolding the new blanket in a rush, you laid it across the couch cushions.

In the second it took you to glance over to your partner, the apartment went dark. Save for the candles on the dining table that flickered, forgotten as you sat on the couch.

“Hmm, this blanket is really soft,” you murmured.

“Debatable.”

His foot bumped yours on the floor.

“With what?” You reached up and gently tugged him on the couch beside you.

In turn, he grabbed ahold of your thighs and pulled you fully on the couch, legs draped over his lap.

“With what’s underneath,” he said and gave your thighs a squeeze.

“Sweet and suggestive words.”

“You suggested we share other things.” He inched his fingers further up your thigh.

Humming quietly, you took your time as you unbuttoned his dress shirt. Working your way up, you listened to the sound of his breathing subtly changing. Fingers skimming over his heartbeat. Strong and more noticeable in the position you two were in. Then, having found his neck in the dark, you leaned in to kiss his throat.

Jonathan sucked in a breath.

Sliding your fingers along his skin, you pushed his shirt passed his shoulders, soon discarding it over the back of the couch. You took your time caressing his shoulders and arms. Kissing your way down his slender neck.

His fingers dug into your nice clothes. A soft moan left him as your hands explored his chest.

“I’ve missed you.” You murmured. “All of you. Your mind, your eyes, your voice, your touch…” You kissed his lips slowly and whispered, “Undress me.”

Jonathan pulled at fabric feebly, too busy kissing you again.

Finding his hands, you guided Jonathan as he removed your clothes piece by piece. Slender fingers glided over your skin and eliciting small gasps from yourself as he touched with cold fingertips. Chills ran across your skin.

“Is this alright?” Jonathan asked softly and a little hesitant, hands stilled at your waist.

“I’m with you. Of course this is all right.”

Chuckling, he gave you a quick kiss. Then one more as you took his hands in yours once again.

The pair of you removed the rest of your undergarments before you straddled his lap. Jonathan’s hands rested along your upper back as he gazed upon you in the candlelight.

“Your body is as lovely as your mind.”

Pulling yourself in closer, you thanked your partner with a deep kiss. You felt his exhale as he held you to him. Chests warming between two quick heartbeats.

“I finally get you all to myself,” you whispered against his lips, running your fingers through his hair. “Just us.” You kissed a path down his skin.

“Yes,” he breathed out, “If anyone ruins this, I’ll give them three doses of fe—.”

His words were cut off as your teeth grazed his neck.

You pressed a kiss to his skin; likely reddening. “Good, but I think we’ll be,” you pulled down the zipper of his trousers, “just fine.”

“Agreed.” He swallowed.

Lifting up his hips and fussing around with more articles of clothes, soon Jonathan was as bare as you. Vulnerable and flustered with how close you two had become.

“You okay?” You asked, palm against his burning cheek.

“Sitting with anticipation.”

“You and me both.”

Jonathan placed a hand over yours on his cheek and smiled.

Held together by languid kisses and roaming hands, the pair of you took your time. No rush to get anywhere later nor hide. Lovers memorizing the slight curves of the other. Discovering beautiful imperfections and how it felt to give passionate affections.

You knew Jonathan had held so many doubts before either of you had seen the other’s apartment. To be wrapped around the other, bare and on your couch, was an enormous step towards ensuring each other’s deep adoration.

“Let me take care of you a bit, yeah?” You delicately pushed up his glasses before slowly dragging that hand down his body.

Jonathan shivered under your touch. Yet not as much as when your hand grasped around his member.

You smirked, moving your hand up and down repetitively. Gently, of course, for your dear Jonathan.

He relaxed onto the couch. Soft moans leaving his lips every so often.

There was no need to hurry. Everyday came and went with many tasks. The time alone together in your apartment did not require any of that.

“You look so gorgeous like this,” you confessed, feeling quite content with yourself.

To see your Jonathan comfortable and sighing in pleasure may have also given you a confidence boost. You were doing this with him. He deserved some time to unwind. To have his mind on something he never had before, not without lies at least.

You would never dare to consider the thought of hurting him. Seeing him burdened with his past was enough to claw at your own heart. You never wished to be the cause of it. Jonathan held a special place in your heart and always would.

Leaving the hold he had on your hips, one of Jonathan’s hands started exploring the wetness between your legs.

“Oh.” He breathed out.

You closed your eyes. Loosing yourself in his touch.

Jonathan Crane was indeed an intelligent man. Inventive as he was caring, in your experience with him.

So why did it surprise you that he was giving as much as you were?

Perhaps subconsciously you imagined leading him by the hand with encouraging words as you shared body heat in the most unrestrained form of connection. Perhaps you thought he’d be too nervous. Perhaps, in your anticipation, you forgot how Jonathan had grown to initiate affection with you, his partner.

Could you be that silly or were you in love?

What was the difference?

Kissing his chin, you removed your hands from Jonathan.

“Lay with me?” Reclining onto the cushions, the blanket was soft along your bare skin.

He nodded. Following after you and your body heat. Jonathan pressed multitudes of kisses across your shoulders and neck. All of them soft and barely hiding his rapid breathing. He kept himself propped up on his arms. Ones you gladly held onto.

A light gasp escaped him as you made room for him between your legs. In response, Jonathan laid an openmouthed kiss just below your ear. Delicately, he adjusted his hips to align with yours.

It was a wonder how close you could be and yet still not be close enough.

Rocking your hips, you aided his member to run along your folds. You closed your eyes at the pleasurable sensations that zipped through you. Between his kisses and his movements, it was beginning to consume your mind.

“I need you.”

Your whisper caused Jonathan to stop moving.

“Are you sure?” He asked, lifting his head to look at you properly.

“Very sure, Jonathan. And… Oh, please know I want this. You. Truly.” You cradled his face between your hands. “I want to be with you.”

Behind eyeglasses, emotions swirled in Jonathan’s eyes.

“Just us.”

Leaning down, Jonathan kissed you fervently. All lips and panting hot breaths. He released his emotions full heartedly.

You felt as he guided his tip to your entrance.

Your sudden moan startled him, if only for a second. He managed to see your smile. Amongst the semidarkness, he found one of your hands to hold.

“Easy,” you used your free hand to hold his hip as he eased himself into your warmth. A moan left you, mixing into a giddy laugh and back to a moan. “Good.”

“Good?” Jonathan asked, quirking up an eyebrow.

“Very.” You kissed his lips eagerly.

You almost came then.

Safe and adored, you could be in his arms forever. Just like that. In the quiet and peaceful night without a care of what happened outdoors. It was you and Jonathan. All you wanted.

A gasp shot out of you as Jonathan gave a particularly pleasant thrust. You tightened your hold on him.

“Oh, Jonathan.”

Could you both have more?

More time together to explore domestic bliss and passionate moments between work life would be an extended goal. One you were adding onto each day whether consciously or not. You would be with Jonathan because you both wanted to. No one could convince you otherwise.

“Darlin’, you’re—,” Jonathan inhaled sharply, “—so beautiful.” His words raced out as he rested his forehead against your shoulder.

Your legs were squeezing around him, limbs locked tightly while you both met your pelvises together again and again.

“Don’t stop. Please… Jonathan.”

Sucking in much needed air, you shut your eyes. You let your body do what it craved, thrusting and quivering until it all came to a peak. It hit you like a wave.

Faintly, you could hear a ramble. A repetitive chant of your name.

You opened your eyes.

A loud gasp came from Jonathan as he quickly removed himself from you. His climax rushed through him quickly. Hands clasping the blanket as he came over you.

In a huff, Jonathan fell into your embrace. His hot breath fanned across your collarbone.

“We did it,” he whispered breathlessly, almost to himself.

“And it was amazing by the way.”

You could almost picture him flushing at your words.

Kissing the side of his head, you wrapped your arms around his back.

“Later, do you wanna take a shower, handsome?”

“A shower?”

“Yeah…” You ran a finger along his spine. “You’re welcome to stay over. Please?”

“I would not think to refuse.” Jonathan kissed your collarbone. “I’ll surely sleep well with you, darlin’.”

~~~

(If you love my writings and want to support me, I have a Ko-Fi where you can buy me a coffee. I would be eternally grateful. coffee

Best wishes and happy reading.)

~~~~~

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[asmutwriter]

Are You Scared Yet? (Part 1)

DESCRIPTION: You're a new student at your university. You were smart and dedicated to learning. But every uni student gets up to some crazy things, right?

A/N - I have work tomorrow and instead of going to sleep for my day I'm here writing a fan fic. I make very sensible choices.

WORD COUNT: 2245

Next / Master List

WARNINGS: Reader is an introvert/anti social, mild cussing (bloody/Jesus), reader is a little judgy, mentions of drinking, mentions of sex/nudity

DISCLAIMERS

This is fiction. Please always talk to your partner before doing anything and make sure they are ok with what you are doing beforehand

Not been proof read

You take a deep breath. Living on campus was new to you so you were quite nervous to say the least. Going into the dorm rooms you hear people chatting around you. Finding your room number. 16. Opening it with the new key you had. You shut the door behind you. Placing your rucksack down onto the chair in your new room.

You’d not been in education for about a year at this point. Having had a gap year to do some exploring so you had to get back into the mindset of doing if. You rst your head back as the door knocks. SOmeone walks in "Oh hey!" your roommate says. Her bubbly personaltiy being a surprise based on the rudeness of some of the other dorm people that you’d bumped into. "Im Lucky" she comes over to you. Hugging you. You gently pat her back before she moves away. Resting a hand on her hip she eyes you up and down.

Your oversized hoodie and jeans being a contrast to her mini skirt and tight shirt. Both leaving very little to the imagination. You wihs you had the confidence to wear something like that. "Im Luna"

"Oh that is a beautiful name" she says, cuaisng you to smile. SHe hugs you again "I think we're going to be best friends" she says. ALmost squealing as she moves away from the hug. "What is it that you're studying?"

"Art and drama"

"Oh my friend did that last year. I tried but got bored. Everything I do mildly creative ends up looking like a toddler did it” you let out a soft chuckle

“So does mine but that doesn’t mean I don’t try to do it”she laughs “what do you do instead then?”

“I do psychology"

"Thats cool. I was debating doing it but decided against it” a knock at the door stops your conversation as she looks owards it

"come in". she says. SOmeone walks in.

"Lucky do you want to come see my new room?" she nods, looking at you as she stands

"DO you want to come?"

"No Im ok tha k you. Ive got to unpack" she looks at your singular rucksack but nods

"ALright then. See you later" she smiles before walking off. You grab your bag. Taking out your various items. Your diary, book, clothes, etc. SOrting it all out onto your bed before putting it away properly on your side of the room.

Youd moved in on the Saturday. Sunday having a few induction days or various groups you could join. Then Monday being peoples first day at uni. Now it was Sunday. After a night in reading yur book. Your roommate coming in during the early hours of the morning, very drunk. You got up early and explored the grounds. Going over to a stall with various cakes and such on it.

You hear someone letting out a groan beside you. "Hi there Luna"

"Did someone have a good time last night?" you look at Lucky standing next to you. Sunglasses on despite the dark weather. SHe nods. Taking the glasses off as she looks at you. A black eye adorning her face. "Jesus what happened to you?"

"I had a terrible fight. With the floor. ANd lost" you let out a slight chuckle as she picks up one of the cupcakes. The lady at the stall going to speak but she shushes her. Walking off. You grab out a fiver from your purse, placig it down and mouthing 'sorry' to her. Catching up with your new friend. SHe bites down into the cake, a moan escaping her lips as she speaks with her mouth full "That is a bloody good cake". SHe looks at you, swallowing before talking again "what did you get up to last ngiht?"

"Nothing in particualr. I read my book, had a shower, then went to bed"

"You should come out with me tonight"

"I have classes early tomorrow morning so I really shouldnt"

"Oh come on. Itll be fun!" she grabs your arm "I can introduce you to some of my friends. I think you'll like one of them. Hes handsome and he likes books to. Plus you have similar fashion tastes. Oh lets look over here" SHe drags you over to a stall. Making small talk with the person behind it. You both go round to the rest of the stalls. Meeting a couple of her other friends.

The day going past quckly. You manage to convicne your new friend to stay in the night. Inviting her and two of her other friends rund. You stay up till quite late. Talking about a whole variety of things. Sadly things that didnt overly interest you. Boys you found cute. WHat lipstick shade was the best. Hair products. Although you found the conversation lacking in intellect you enjoyed the girls company so engaged in the talk with them.

You found one of the girls was also doing art. So you agreed to walk to class together. Her name was Hope. Sitting next to her in class, you found she had a lot higher intellegence then you initially thought when yo first met her. ACtually having a decent conversation with her until your professor walked in. Then every brain cell she seemed to have rotted away as she practicly stared at her. A young woman. Probably early thirties. Eyeliner perfect, hair styled in a way that looked both messy yet neat. You chuckle slightly. You were unaware that this new friend of yours swung that way, and this was certainly an interesting and entertaining way to find out.

"Please can you all call me Destiny. I would go about the formality of you using my doctorate name but we are here to make art. Not have a tea party with the queen. So-" she says. "I want everyone to pick up their pens. Pencils. Paints. Paper mache. WHatever you need to make a piece that says 'I am me'. You have the rest of the day. I will be judging them when you all go home to some sort of party Im sure"

You pick grab out your sketch book and pencils. Starting to trace your art piece. Noticing your friend still drooling over your teacher. You nudge her. Cuasing her to fall out of the trance. SHe looks at you. Her face turning a wonderful shade of tomato red.

"How much of that did you get?"

"Soemthing about her being our destiny"

"Ok then" you laugh. Explaing to your love stricken friend what she needs to do.

Once she listened she started her piece, as did you. You did a simple piece of work. A black and white picture of yourself. Behind it a mass of colour. Tryng to show that although you appeared dull on the outside, you had a lot of fun to show to those who got to know you.

Hope links an arm with you as you leave the lecture. "Are you coming to the party tonight?"

"You know that we're here for education right? ANd npt to drink ourselves to death"

"Oh come on"

"Ive got a very good book and a film to watch though"

"You can do that any day"

"I can have a party any day" she rolls her eyes.

"Come for like... an hour. If you dont like it then you can go back to your room"

"Fine..."

"Yay!" she exclaims. "I'll be round to take ypu and Lucky at 9. SPeak of the devil!" Lucky walks up to you both. Linking an arm with you on the other side. "I was just telling Luna about our party tonight"

"Youre coming?"

"I am" she squeals. Hugging you close to her. You gently pack her back. "You can borrow one of my dresses if youd like?"

"Oh no. Im not wearing a dress"

"Yes. Yes you are" you give her an uncomfortable look "At least wear a skirt".

"Skirt but a hoodie. ANd tights"

"Deal" she holds her hand out for you to shake. To which yo do.

If this was a movie. There would be a cheesy dress up montage. WHere the popluar girl takes off your glasses and straitens your hair and your suddenly beautiful. But this isnt a movie, so you settle with them doing their makeup in your room. Playing various pop music on their 'top of the charts' CD. Putting some mascara on your, as well as a deep blue skirt paired with a grey hoodie and black tights.

You get to the partry. You stand awkwardly in the corner. Watching men and woman get more and more drunk. With each drink they seem to strip too. Leaving a lot of half naked people around you.

Lucky stuck by your side for the first hour. Getting herself drinks. She had gone off to get drinks some more 20 minutes ago and hadnt returned. Hope stuck by your side though. Not drinking, joining you in a joint sober. You did start to enjoy yourself. You were planning on going for an hour but ended up staying for 2. Not a long time compafred to most people but for you, it was a lot of time to socialise.

So you bid your friend farewell. Telling her that you were grwing tired and would see her in class the following day. SHe agrees. Seeming happy that you had a good time. Sad to see you go but understood how introverted you are.

You head back to your dorm room. WHen you get there you see a tie firmly tied around the door handle. Now, you werent necersarily the most outgong person you knew. But you did know what that meant. So you turn tail. Annoyed that your friends had managed to convince you to not take your tote bag with you book in. You guess youd check the university library and see if they had anything in there to read.

Thankfully the library was run by book enthusiasts so was open 24/7. You go inside. Smiling at the lady at the desk as she smiles back to you. You idle down the rows of books. Seeing if any screamed out at you. You found one in the fantasy isle. Picking it up you turn it to read the blurb.

"Id recomoend this book instead" a voice says. Making you jump back at the suddeness of a male voice. You thought it was only you and the librarian (who was a female). "Sorry, didnt mean to startle you"

"No. No its fine. I just wasnt expecting anyine else to be here" you say. Now that you were over your initial scare you take a look at the man. Dark hair contrasting his vibrant blue eyes. Glasses sat comfortably on his nose as he wears a blazer over a vest shirt.

"I wasnt expectinh to see anyone else either. Normally its just me here reading up on studies". DUe to his youthful featrues yete his smart attire you couldnt tell if he meant in a professor or a student kind of study. He seemed to be able to tell your confusion as he continues speaking. "I work here". He outsteetches his hand towards you. "Professor Crane". Yiu take his hand.

"Luna. Like the moon. Ironic given that I often suffer from insomnia" he chuckles. "What do you study then professor?"

"Psychology"

"No way. My friend is studying that! Lucky... I dont know her last name"

"Yes. I know Lucky" he smiles. Obviously not overly impressed by the name drop. "WHat do you study then? Assuming you do come here and havnt just decided to sneak into a unis library"

"I stidy art. Not quite the level of psychology but still good fun".

"WHat made you come here rather then go out and party?"

"I was at a party but I decided to go back to my dorm". He looks around the library. "Oh no. There was a tie on my dorm door. I know how promiscous my roommate is so I just decided to leave her to it".

"Ahh. Well, if your wanting something to read whilst you wait then Id recomend this" he turns. Taking out a book from the shelf and handing it to you. You take it from him, turning it over to read the blurb. "Its a very good stroy line with some strong characters"

"Ive read this author before. Hes a good writer". You place it atop the oteer one youre still holding. "Ill add it to the pile"

"What book is that one?" he motions to the one your holding. "I saw you get it from the fantasy section"

"Its part of a series I read. Not read this one rhoufh. Its about an angel who solves crimes. Using his powers to force people to tell the truth"

"Sounds..."

"Utterly insane?"

"I was going to say interesting but yeah, that sums it uo better" he smiles. "I have taken up enough of your time. I imagine that you are wanting to get back to your reading. So I shall leave you to it Miss Luna. I hope you enjoy your books. And I hope tat your roommate lets you back into your dorm at some point tonight"

"If not then Im sure the librarian wont mind me camping out here" you joke. Causing him to let out a laugh. Adjusting his brief case before turning and walking out.

Next

[lys1th3a]

Rough sketch of Cammyverse Scriddlehat I made last week. The design for Jon is heavily inspired by @paninityl bc I love Latino Scarecrow.

I would also like to thank @bluesfreakingart for getting me into this ship

[valyrianvibranium]

DRAGON DREAMS.

Aemond Targaryen x wife!Reader

Monthly nightmares have already plagued you way before your wedding, even though your grandfather has always addressed them as dragon dreams rather than nightmares. But you and your husband both know you’re not gifted with such abilities.

WARNINGS: canon typical incest/targcest (uncle/niece), nightmares, slight angst, fluff

WORDS: 625

NOTES: this was requested by @marthawrites. Hope you still like it! 💕

It’s impossible for you to run.

Your feet are firmly planted on the ground, not moving regardless of you tugging and pulling at them to lift them and escape the brown dragon in front of you. Even your voice catches in your throat, unable to scream when the large mouth of Sheepstealer snaps towards you, the sharp teeth appearing even more intimidating with the light of the moon reflecting from them.

You stir awake, beads of sweat forming along your hairline and in the valley between your breasts. A hand on your mouth is meant to stifle your screams and sobs, not wanting to wake up your husband. Your breathing is heavy, and it takes you a few moments to adjust to the darkness of your chambers as you prop yourself up on your elbows.

Still half asleep, Aemond rolls onto his side and snakes his arm around your waist to pull you into his embrace, your head resting against his chest as his nose nuzzles into your hair.

“Bad dream?” It’s more a statement than a question, because your husband knows the answer. Monthly nightmares have already plagued you way before your wedding, even though your grandfather has always addressed them as dragon dreams rather than nightmares.

But you and Aemond know you’re not gifted with such abilities, it’s just that your mind has a lot to process with the rising tension between both sides of your family.

His presence always works wonders, the warmth radiating off his body and his scent slowing your panicked breathing and the turmoil inside of your mind, allowing you to melt into him.

While Aemond’s hand cups the back of your neck, his fingers apply just a bit of pressure to your stiff muscles in order to release the pent up tension, and you find yourself being able to speak again.

“I—It‘s…,” you stammer, your breathing still causing you to stutter through a sentence. “Sheep…Sheepstealer,” you sigh, “he… he...”

A gentle nod reassures you to continue as you crane your neck to look up at him.

“We wanted to fly to Dragonstone,” you sniff, panic settling in your bones again at just remembering what has happened. “Vhagar was already high up in the sky, when… and when I wanted to mount him, h… he…”

Aemond brings his hand to the back of your head and holds you against his body to calm you down. “He ate you?” he finishes the sentence for you, and you just nod hurriedly, mumbling a ‘yes‘ against his chest.

Most people, including your parents, perceive Aemond as cold and ignorant, and the gods know he can be like that. You have thought that too for the longest time, or rather from the moment he has lost his eye to the moment your courtship has been made official, but you have learned to see the genuine intent behind the things he does, hear the subtle changes in his voice, and suddenly he was just as attentive as any other man around, if not even a bit more.

Aemond kisses the crown of your head before speaking, “Your bond is strong, my love, and you know he would never do that.” And he is right. Even before you’ve bonded with Sheepstealer, the dragon never showed any ill-will toward you. He always was curious, despite the many failed attempts of claiming him other people had tried before.

“Avy jorrāelan,” you mumble. I love you.

“Avy jorrāelan,” comes the reply.

That Aemond’s grip doesn’t loosen around you makes it easier to find sleep again, and while your soft snores already fill his ears, he nuzzles his nose into your hair to take in your scent, thinking about a way to put this misery to an end.

Aemond taglist: @persephonerinyes @dr-aegon @schniiipsel @thekinslayed @baizzhu @legitalicat @eponaartemisa @peachysunrize @blackswxnn @odairtrqsh @mfedits

[sexy-monster-fucker]

But Who Could Love Me, I Am Out of my Mind

Dr. Gregory House x Doctor!Reader

Story Synopsis: Reader is a Doctor alongside House. They have known each other for years, mostly been dancing around being intimate with one another. Even though it is painfully obvious to their close friend, Wilson. After finally allowing their guards to fall, the Reader receives a letter inviting her for her dream position at her dream hospital. She has to make the hard choice of staying or going. angst/smut/nsfw/new relationships/minor fluff/typical hospital talk/situationship/

Part 3/Summary: After a long day dealing with House’s nonsense, Reader wants a night to relax at home. Until an unexpected guest comes knocking at her door.

CW: nipple play, fingering, multiple orgasms, handjob, p in v, creampie, new relationship, accidental confession, mentions of cucking,

[Part 1] | [Part 2] <- -> [Part 4] | [Part 5/Finale]

a/n: I’m just so in love with Greg House

title track 🎶🩶

~~~

After what felt like the longest day of your life, you really needed some alone time. Having to put up with House’s petty antics all day, not even considering the normal stress of the hospital, you were defeated.

Running yourself a nice, hot bath. Washing away the worries of the day along with your body. Steam filling the small space. More relaxing than you had anticipated. Putting on your most comfortable loungewear. Preparing for a night of silence other than whatever you ended up watching on TV. Pushing down everything that wanted so badly to erupt out of you. Tonight was no night to wallow.

So you lit your favorite candle. Turned off the overhead light. Clicking on each lamp you had strategically placed around the room. And curled up on your couch with a book. Finding yourself lost in the pages. Enjoying having a distraction.

The knock on the door startled you. Blowing your breath out as you tip-toed over to look through the peephole. Not expecting whose eyes you met.

“House?”

A closed mouth smile adorned his face. A hint of irritation on his lips. Hair slicked down with gel, a bold departure from his usually wild locks. Musky cologne overwhelmed your senses as soon as the door had opened. Overcoat with a band t-shirt and jeans. What you knew as his ‘out of office’ attire. Looking down to see him grasping a tote bag in his hand. Your favorite flowers peaking out the top, a paper bag underneath.

“Are you aware your elevator is out of order?” his shoulders bounced with each word as he tried to catch his breath. Brows knitted tightly together, hinting at the pain he was feeling. Eyes glancing back down to see his other hand shaking as it white-knuckled his cane.

“Come sit down,” you moved out of the way. Closing and locking the door behind him. Watching as he plopped onto the center of your couch, bag sitting in the floor beside him. Groaning as he finally got to relax his legs. Neck craning against the back of your couch as he stretched. Lump jumping in his throat as he swallowed hard.

You studied him. Trying to figure out why he showed up here. At your home on a random weeknight. After being nothing but a complete ass to you all day. Berating and belittling you. Inconveniencing you any way possible.

Wanting to hate him. Wanting to scream and make him take the stairs back down. To get out of your apartment. To leave you alone.

But you could not.

House had made himself at home in your heart. Tethering himself into your very being. Laced through your existence in a way you could never rid of. Regardless of how he cared for you. He was yours.

“These are for you,” House extended the bouquet out to you. Refusing to meet your silent stare. Accepting them with a soft ‘thank you.’ Knowing he had remembered the time you mentioned they were your favorite when a patient received them in their room. Cheeks heating up at the simple fact he remembered at all. Smelling the buds and smiling.

Beginning to question him, but getting cut off. “I brought takeout from that Chinese place you like. Got the number twelve like you always get,” his hands rustled through the paper bag. Sitting the little containers on the coffee table in front of him. Delicious aroma meeting your nose causing your stomach to growl. Realizing that you had forgotten to cook dinner. Too busy trying to relax.

Being hit with a sudden wave of anger. Remembering everything that happened today. Brows pushing tightly together as you stood across from him. Arms folded tightly over your chest.

“House, you can’t just—“

“And. I’m sorry,” his wide blue eyes finally met yours. Being stunned into silence by the words coming from him. One thing about Greg House: he never apologized. Ego too inflated to ever allow that. Always thinking he was right about everything, so what would he need to apologize for?

So you found it hard to believe that he meant it.

Convincing yourself there was an ulterior motive. There was no world in which Dr. House cared enough about you to sacrifice his self-importance. Your throat tightened as you held eye contact with him. Nostrils flaring as you battled to keep any emotion pushed down.

House sighed as his hand slapped against his leg, “I was acting petty. You did not deserve any of what I did to you today.” Corner of his mouth curving as his lips pierced together.

“Are you dying?” You deadpanned.

“What?”

“It’s just impossible that the Doctor Gregory House would ever say that to me,” you scoffed, “Let alone remember my favorite flowers. Something has to be wrong with you.”

Denying yourself hope. The possibility of him caring for you could not slip its way back into you. Easier to believe there was something else afoot.

House’s head fell defeated. A chuckle rumbling in his chest as he looked at you, “Do you seriously think I’m that shallow?”

“I know you are,” you snipped with a look of confusion. Coming off harsher than you had intended.

“Okay, I deserve that,” House mumbled under his breath. The smile tugging at his lips making you sick.

“Oh— I see what’s going on here. You made a bet with Wilson, didn’t you?”

“No—“

“Bet that if you showed up here all put together and-and with those sad eyes, you’d be able to get in bed with me. Right? Bringing some present and dinner, acting like you even feel remorse,” tears welled up behind your eyes. Mouth forming a frown as you tried to blink away the feeling. Talking with your hands, as you did when you were stressed. Voice cracking with each word that left your lips.

Maybe relaxation was not what you needed. Confrontation put a much fuller feeling inside you.

Losing the war against the tears. Burning as they stained your cheeks. Hating yourself for allowing him to get you this way. For allowing yourself to be this vulnerable with someone. You were better than this. Worth more than he had made you feel all day. You grasped the sides of your head, hiding your face the best you could. Trying your hardest to not sound so pitiful with your sobs.

His hands on your shoulders caused you to look up at him. Fingers digging into the flesh. Heartbreaking at how sad your eyes looked. You arched your brows trying to appear more intimidating than you were. Refusing to let him feel pity on you.

“Y/N, I—“

“No, I don’t want to hear it. You’re right. Everybody lies,” you huskily chuckled. Echoing his mantra to him. His eyes fell shut, frustrated as he exhaled hard.

His hand came up and cupped your cheek, thumb circling into the skin. Collecting the dew that had fallen from your eyes moments prior. Nostrils flaring as he flexed his jaw.

“This is one thing I would never lie to you about,” House’s brows sat flatly across his eyes. Teeth gritted together as his grip on you tightened. Trying his hardest to get his point across. Begging you to understand.

You scanned his eyes. Desperate for one hint of dishonesty. Begging for all of it to be a lie. Because it was almost easier to convince yourself he was lying than it was to believe him. Wilson’s reminder that House only chased a high to distract him ringing in your ears. Possibility of you being his next addiction causing your stomach to sink.

Yet, you found yourself knowing he was telling the truth. Never having seen his eyes so expressive and genuine as they were in this moment. Even a remnant of worry on his brow. Delusion of a future with him washing over your body. Wanting to try this with him. Wanting him to get better. Wanting to be able to commit to something without fleeing at the first sign of seriousness. Because he was what you wanted.

“You came all this way just to apologize?”

“Yes,” he breathed out with upturned eyebrows. Swallowing his fear of rejection.

“Really?”

“My God, woman. YES,” he over exaggerated his voice trying to get his point across to you, “All of this is for you. Because I… Wilson calls it ‘caring’. What I feel for you. And you’re making sure I don’t forget it. You know how hard it is for me to admit that I’m wrong? I’m not doing it again.”

Silently staring at each other for a moment. Before House’s mouth curved into a smirk. A small chuckle escaping through his nose as it slowly morphed into a genuine smile. Returning the affectionate gaze he had for you. Shaking your head in disbelief for a moment before you both erupted into a fit of understood laughter.

Cheeks glowing as your laughs subsided.

“Now, come sit down and eat with me,” House gestured back to the couch. Walking back over and taking his previous seat. Removing his jacket off his shoulders. Opening all the containers and plasticware. Blue eyes looking up at you, wondering why you had not joined him yet.

Slowly, you walked over. Quick to straddle his lap instead. House’s hands instinctively placed themselves on your hips as he looked up at you. A hint of confusion on his brow. Smiling softly, eyes dipping to look at your hardened nipples through your shirt. “Gonna be a little difficult to eat with you on top of me like this,” House questioned your action with a joke.

Your hands guided his eyes back up to yours. Lips meeting his. A certain hunger overtaking you. Sloppily kissing him, sliding your tongue into his mouth. Groaning when his hand pinched at your breast. Pulling away for just a moment, hooking your hands under the loose fit t-shirt.

“I didn’t come here just to fuck you,” House breathed, eyes hooded as they looked up at you.

“You want me to stop?” you cocked a brow.

“Absolutely not,” hands meeting yours and guiding your shirt off your head. Throwing it off in the floor behind you. His lips attaching onto one of your nipples as the other palmed your breast. Massaging the meat in his hand while his tongue flicked and stimulated the other nipple.

One hand roaming down to rim around your waistband of your sleep shorts. Slowly venturing down and slipping his hand up the bottom. Feeling the lining of your panties as he pulled them away from your core. Fingers slipping against your folds. A loud moan erupted from you at the sensation, hands digging into his gelled down hair. Disrupting the perfectly laid locks. Whining his name as surgical digits circled your clit.

“Never expected you to be so noisy,” House smirked against your skin. Your hips bucked against his touch, chasing more stimulation. Not having been touched in so long. Wanting to come undone around him. Begging him to make you cum.

You curled into him, head resting against his throat. Moaning right below his ear as your hands gripped his shoulders. House’s hand splayed along your spine as he finally delved his fingers into your throbbing entrance. Curling them and hitting that spot perfectly inside you.

“I can’t wait to see how you act with my dick inside you,” House pressed his lips against your ear. Airy words soaking right into your core. Causing you to squeeze his fingers. Riding against his hand as he perfectly massaged your insides. His cock stiffening between his legs as he watched you. Thumb starting to circle your throbbing nub.

"Greg..." you whined into him, breasts pressing into his chest as your lips kissed his jugular. Canines teasing his skin with a soft bite. Pulling a soft grunt from him, vibrating against your lips. Gently replicating the small, purple marks he had left on your chest the night prior. House's hand led your head back to his, lips interlocking. Tongues fighting for dominance as you both tasted one another. Moaning into his mouth when he applied more pressure to your core. The knot deep in your belly barely holding itself together.

House’s eyes looked into yours with admiration. Completely entranced by your flushed expression and kiss swollen lips. Pupils enlarged with his need for you. “Are you gonna cum?”

“Y- Mmhmp,” you tried to speak, the noise meekly bubbling in your throat.

“Good, good,” House trailed off, tongue coming out and wetting his bottom lip, “Give it to me, Y/N.” Curling his fingers against the soft spot barely inside your entrance. Methodically leading you to your orgasm. Nails digging into his shoulders as your mouth shaped into an ‘O’ with a loud moan. Legs shaking and breath catching in your throat. Walls fluttering around his digits as they continued their rhythm. Shit-eating grin written across House’s face as he watched your body writhe above his. Allowing you to ride out the waves of bliss on his hand.

Slowly, he removed thick fingers from you. Grinning at the mess you had created. Juices connecting between his fingers. Sliding them between his lips, cleaning them off. Pressing his lips back to yours, taste strong on him.

Your shoulders heaved as you attempted to catch your breath. Trying to find composure as your walls continued to occasionally grip around nothing. Sweat glistened along your spine, the air from your ceiling fan feeling suddenly cold.

“Pretty girl,” House cooed, his thumb tracing circles in your exposed thigh. This side of him a foreign concept. Not one for compliments or sweet gestures. Assuming he would be quick to slip his dick into you. Surprised that he wanted to get you off first. Icy eyes peered up at you through his brow. Mouth morphing into a grin at your flushed body. Loving that he had you a squirming mess simply from his fingers. Chuckling softly.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you hid your face in your hands. Growing severely embarrassed with his eyes on you. Feeling overexposed suddenly.

Rough hands pulled your wrists away from your face. Trying your hardest to keep your eyes away from him. Tucking your chin against your shoulder.

“Look at me,” House loosened his tight grip on your wrists. Despite your best efforts, you gave in. Fluttering your lashes at him. Lip puckered.

House’s hand cupped the back of your head, pulling you to his lips. Tongue glazing over your teeth. His other hand guided yours down to the bulge in his pants. Encouraging you to stroke him through his jeans. Heart skipping at the feeling of his stiff member. Focusing both his hands on the zipper, tugging it down and fetching his throbbing cock out. Curving towards his stomach, thick and swollen. Pre-cum beading at the tip.

“Still want me to check if your blue balls are serious?” you teased between kisses, hand framing the base of his member. Not yet touching his length.

“Fuck… shut up,” House breathed heavily, hint of a laugh behind it. Sounding far more desperate than he had been moments prior. Clearly wanting your hands on him.

“Yes, sir. Doctor House,” you pressed your lips firmly against his. Grasping at his shirt and pulling it over his head. Revealing his torso, lightly covered in hair. Expanding as he tried to fill his lungs. Finally wrapping your hand around his cock. Stroking him agonizingly slow. Taking your time to get familiar with the veins decorating it. Squeezing the tip, watching more pre-cum surface. House breathlessly moaned, eyes squinting shut and head falling back.

Beginning to speed your hand up, twisting your wrist with each stroke. His hips bucked up into your hand, wincing at the slight pain he felt from the sudden muscle spasm. You kissed at his jawline, scruff tickling your lips. His mouth hung open, brows knitting tightly together.

One of his hands tugged at the band of your shorts. Voice husky and gruff, “Take these off. I want to be inside you.”

Butterflies flapped around your stomach. Appreciating his straight-forwardness. House was a man who knew what he wanted, and would be damned if he did not get it. You rose off his lap, standing before him. Removing your bottoms as slowly as possible. Giving him a bit of a show before you were fully nude before him. Disregarding the garments somewhere. House stroked himself absentmindedly as he analyzed your every movement. Making sure to memorize the valleys and hills of your body. Lost in the way your breasts bounced on your chest when you stood up fully.

Praising your body as you took your place back over his lap. Hovering over the place he needed you most. Hand lining himself up with your entrance. Allowing you to dip only the head in first, adjusting to his girth. Face contorting at the feeling. Whimpering as you fully sunk down on him. Stilling for a moment as you gasped. Feeling so full with him inside you. His head bumping somewhere deep inside you that made your walls tighten. Large hands grasped under your ass, digits digging into the soft flesh. Awestruck by you above him, soft innards perfectly encapsulating his length.

Hands guided you up and down his length. Slowly riding him in a way that allowed him to watch every detail of his cock disappearing inside you. Smiling widely when it came back out covered in your juices. Welcoming him back as if he belonged there. Fingertips digging into his shoulders as you sped up. Bouncing on his lap with your head thrown back. Curses fell softly from him over and over.

House pushed himself forward, capturing one of your nipples between hungry lips. Audibly sucking the bulb, moaning into your flesh. Possibly an attempt to drown out his own sounds with your skin. Well aware he was close to blowing his load.

Methodical fingers ventured down your figure, curling against your clit. Circling it and causing your rhythm to falter for a moment. Shaky breaths falling from you in short gasps, “Greg—“

“I want you to cum around my cock. Can you do that?”

You viciously nodded. Still overly sensitive from your previous orgasm. Grinding down on his hand as you took him. His other hand helped you raise higher off his member. Sweat beaded along his brow as his lips hung parted. Brows knitted in enjoyment.

Repetitive ‘yes’s escaped his lips as he felt your walls tighten more and more. Knowing when you stiffened your posture it was over for you. Quaking through your nervous system as you came harder than you ever had. Pussy gripping his thick cock over and over, pushing him over his own edge. Hips rutting as he came in spurts. Humping up into you making sure he shot as deeply as possible. Decorating your insides with white hot.

Hair falling in front of your eyes as you leaned into him. Huffing and panting. Lungs begging to capture air. You softly kissed his throat as you continued moaning lowly into him. Overworked and high on pleasure. His loud pulse pounded against your ears, barely louder than your own.

His cock remained inside you. Twitching and leaking every last drop out of him. His eyes rested shut as he heaved. Hands tenderly petting your body above his. Lips gingerly kissing against the side of your head. Your name a soft groan from his throat.

Neither of you able to look at the other quite yet. Basking in the feeling of post coital glow. Hands desperately clinging to each other. Still learning all the dips and turns around the other. Skin sticking together with sweat, not willing to rip away from him. Loving the skin to skin contact. Chests pressed perfectly together, synchronizing heartbeats.

Beginning to drift away in your comfort from him. Engulfed by his body heat. Warming your now cold body. Like crawling into your own bed after a long day, finding the love of your life already there. Keeping it comfortable for you, always awaiting your return.

“Y/N,” his husky voice brought you back, blinking as you sat up. Meeting his arctic eyes. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Capturing your lips in a kiss once more. Addicted to the way they felt against his. His hand cupping your cheek, running loosely along your hair. Thumb circling your cheek.

“Look, I love you—“ he paused, stunned by how casually he said it, “—your body against mine, but I haven’t ate since this morning,” House chided, uncomfortable with the soft nature of your new found relationship. Embarrassed by the slip up he made. Pretending neither of you heard what he said. As if the room had not shifted in on itself.

You kissed the tip of his nose, standing up before him and grabbing all the discarded clothes. Throwing his t-shirt back at him. Dressing yourself and turning to see him spread out watching.

“You’re such a pervert.”

“Says the woman who just rode my dick,” House’s brows bounced with his words.

Your face flushed again with his words. Scoffing as you sat down beside him. Smiling as you lazily looked over at him. Leaning forward and grabbing one of the cardboard boxes of food. Tasting as good as you imagined Heaven would, probably because of how hungry you were. House snipped at one of the pieces of chicken from your box with his chopstick. Laughing as you pulled away from him.

“Didn’t your mom raise you better than that?”

“Have you met me?”

House smirked as he reached for your arm, pulling the box towards himself and snatching a piece. Softly pushing his shoulder at your loss.

This was how the night continued. Until you were laying your head in his lap watching some hospital comedy show. Not really paying attention to the plot. Laughing at the strange cutaway gags they would pull when the main character daydreamed.

“Do you want to stay here tonight?” your voice was hushed, softer than ever before.

“Of course I do,” House’s hand glided down your side, “Hopefully I’ll wake up with my dick in your mouth.” He snickered knowing your eyes were rolling at the remark.

“I thought that was Wilson’s thing,” you joked.

“True. I’ll have to call him and break the news,” House’s hand laced through your own, pulling it to his lips and kissing it.

“Ooo. He’s gonna be mad,” you teased with a firm grip on his hand. Half joking, the reality of the lecture you would receive from your friend dawning on you.

“Maybe because we didn’t invite him,” he smiled, “Have to give him a heads up next time. Even set him up a chair to watch.” You swatted his hand as it pinched your ass. Eliciting a wince from him as he shook off the sting of your smack.

“You’re gonna cuck your best friend?” you rolled over to be looking up at him. Meeting his devious smirk as his thumb and pointer finger pinched your chin.

“We might ask him to join,” House widened his eyes with his words. You reached up and pushed his gaze away from you, giggling, “Ew, Greg! Fuck Wilson on your own time.”

House chuckled. A genuine smile overtaking his expression. Hooded eyes gently looking into yours. Cheeks softly pink when his mouth would beam.

Oh God.

You were both in deep.

~~~

[END//Part 3]

// Thank you so much for reading! I have two more parts of this story planned. I am really enjoying exploring the ins and outs of this kind of situationship. Where they’re both so obviously in love they can’t see straight, BUT TOO STUBBORN TO ADMIT IT! Anywho— I know House M.D. is an older fandom but I just love him and the show. If you want to be tagged in any future Fics, let me know! Comments and Reblogs are appreciated! //

{tags}

@houseslollipop ~ @megangovier ~ @iwmflbb ~ @yourgirlcarol ~ @needz1nk ~ @crimin4llyins4ne ~ @bitchy-bi-trash ~ @chaimshelii ~ @cailleachcola ~

[m00njinnie]

The softness they need - lads x reader

Just a couple of little ideas that were floating around in my head for the last week. Its been so long since I've actually put anything I've written online. Like...over a decade. So please be nice (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶) Zayne x f!reader & Sylus x f!reader - mostly fluff, some suggestive tones too. No beta because life is short and the world is falling apart. We got no TIME for triple checking.

The those around the great Dr Zayne Li, everything about him was sharp.

The chill of his Evol, the steep slope of his cheekbones and his strong jaw line. The focus he gave to his craft and the genius of his mind that propelled him to his position at the hospital today.

So many people assumed that his edges rarely softened. Even his bedside manner, whilst pleasant, was always calm and precise.

But the world had a way of maintaining balance and for Zayne, you were his.

Where he was logical, you led with heart.

Where he was cautious, you followed your gut.

You were the sun, rising over frosted ground to melt his ice away.

Busy days at the hospital, the ones where all of his careful planning was pointless in the face of the world’s chaos, the days where he did everything right but things still went wrong, the days where…he didn’t win…they were always ended with softness and love.

He knew that no matter how awful things could be, when he returned home you would be waiting. Usually in his bed, all warmth and smooth skin, sleepy and docile as you fought sleep just for him. So you could ask him how his day was and soothe any frustration or cheer any successes.

On the rare occasion that his day ended at a semi-sociable hour, he would instead find you in the kitchen preparing food for you both. Wearing one of his t-shirts, you would sway and sing softly to the music playing as pans sizzled and water boiled. It was so domestic it always made his heart melt. Those after-work meals would always be his favourite. He would take a home cooked meal in casual clothes late at night with you over fancy restaurants any day. And always after those home cooked meals were shared showers that consisted of breathy moans and decadent and greedy touches.

When he had days of reprieve from work, though they were few, your exuberance for life led him away from his home where he would no doubt pour over medical reports and texts despite being off the clock, and instead out into the world to be something other than the decorated surgeon. Whether visiting your favourite arcade to try to take home whatever new plushie was in your favourite crane machine, stopping for sweet treats at his favourite cafe, or occasionally attending whatever fair or event Linkon had to offer, your hand was always in his. Comforting and warm.

You led him through the world when needed and he was content to follow you wherever. To the ends of the earth if required. As long as he could forever stay orbiting your sun.

Where the world treated Sylus with fearful respect, like a weapon ready to fire at any moment, your approach was so far away from that, it had taken Sylus time to get used to it. You treated him with such soft care, with gentle touches and reverent gazes, as if he were the most precious gemstone or work of art.

On the days where he came home dirtied by blood and dust, you would think wash the grime away with such tenderness that it felt as if the sins of his work were rinsed away too. When his energy was depleted and his Evol delayed in healing all of his wounds, you would bandage him up without comment, placing a kiss on every bruise.

When the twins were being too much, you would effortlessly distract them for him so he could get some work done. When Mephisto needed a tune up, you would dutifully set out all of his tools and watch with childlike fascination. He had asked once why you enjoyed watching him perform such a mundane task.

“I enjoy any time spent with you, Sylus.”

Your eyes had been so honest and wide, your words plain as if he were the fool to not understand.

And even in the more explicit moments of your relationship, every action was underlined by your quiet devotion.

Where his subordinates submitted to him from a place of fear or debt, your submission was from total trust and love.

When you let him lead your relationship, let him dote on you, make the decisions, take charge when necessary. And also in the private moments; when you were on your knees for him looking so pretty and obliging, when you would lie back with hazy eyes and flushed cheeks to let him take what he needed. The submission you yielded every day was given freely because you wanted to. Because it was another way to take care of him.

You were his good girl. His sweet little kitten. The sugar his coffee-bitter world needed and he couldn’t imagine life without your sweetness.

[corrupte3d-mindz]

Forever a Shelby

Thomas Shelby x Wife Reader

Summary: Thomas and you get married.

Wordcount: 4.2k

Warnings:

protective! Thomas, cocky! Thomas if you squint, kissing, lap sitting,

Thomas Shelby stood at the altar, the weight of his suit jacket pressing down on his broad shoulders. The church was grand, decorated with white lilies and gold ribbons, a stark contrast to the gritty streets of Birmingham that he knew so well.

Sunlight streamed through stained glass windows, casting a kaleidoscope of colors across the stone floor. The pews were filled with both Shelbys and Changrettas, two families whose histories were steeped in blood and rivalry. Today, however, was meant to be a day of unity, a truce symbolized by the marriage of Thomas Shelby and the daughter of his fiercest enemy, Luca Changretta. Arthur stood beside him, a rare softness in his eyes as he glanced back at the congregation. He reached out, patting Thomas on the shoulder, his grip firm but comforting. "Nervous, Tommy?"

Thomas turned his head slightly, the corner of his mouth twitching in what could almost be considered a smile. "No, Arthur," he replied, his voice low and steady. "Nervous ain't in my nature." His accent, thick and rich, rolled off his tongue, a constant reminder of his roots.

Polly Gray sat in the front row, her dark eyes fixed on her nephew. There was a mixture of pride and apprehension in her gaze, a silent prayer for the future. Beside her, Michael leaned back, arms crossed, a smirk playing on his lips as he observed the gathering. Arthur's wife, Linda, looked on with a serene expression, her hand resting in her lap. John sat a few rows behind, bouncing his baby on his knee, his wife Esme smiling warmly at the scene. Ada, dressed in a striking blue dress, chatted animatedly with Finn, while Johnny Dogs and Isaiah exchanged hushed whispers, their eyes darting around the room. The tension in the air was palpable, a heady mix of anticipation and unease. Thomas felt it in his bones, the weight of expectations and the ghosts of the past pressing down on him. Marrying into the Changretta family was a strategic move, but it wasn’t a strategic move on his part, it was love. Yes, Thomas Shelby had fallen in love with a Changretta but the same could be said for her.

“Now, hush Arthur. She’ll be walking down that aisle any minute now,” Thomas murmured, his voice a low growl that carried an edge of authority. He straightened his posture, his gaze fixed on the ornate doors at the end of the aisle

Arthur looked at him again; “You sure you’re not nervous?” Thomas could feel the eyes of everyone in the room on him, waiting for his reaction. He turned his head slightly, his gaze locking onto Arthur’s for a moment before he replied.

“I said I’m not fucking nervous, Arthur,” he said, his voice low and steady, laced with a thick Birmingham accent that carried an edge of impatience. To emphasize his point, he kicked Arthur in the back of his left knee, causing his brother to stumble briefly. Thomas chuckled, a rare, genuine sound that broke the tension momentarily. He could always count on Arthur to lighten the mood, even if unintentionally.

The sound of the organ began to fill the room, a deep, resonant melody that signaled the start of the ceremony. The guests fell silent, their attention shifting to the doors that were slowly opening. Thomas took a deep breath, his heart pounding in his chest. This was it, the moment that would seal their fate, for better or worse; who was he kidding? It was for better! As the doors opened fully, revealing her figure, Thomas felt a rush of emotions. She stood there, framed by the golden light that spilled in from the hallway, her silhouette ethereal and almost otherworldly. Her dress, a delicate creation of black lace and satin, hugged her form gracefully, the long train trailing behind her like a whisper. A veil covered her face, but even through the sheer fabric, Thomas could see the outline of her features, delicate and serene.

Her father, Luka Changretta, stood beside her, his expression a mask of pride and caution. The tension between the two men was palpable, a silent reminder of the bloody history that lay between their families. Thomas’s eyes never left her as she began her slow walk down the aisle. Each step she took seemed to echo in his mind, a steady rhythm that matched the beating of his heart. He could see the slight tremble in her hands, the way she clutched her bouquet of white roses a little too tightly. Despite the nerves, she moved with a grace and determination that he found both admirable and endearing.

Arthur leaned in slightly, his voice a whisper in Thomas’s ear. “She looks beautiful, Tommy.”

Thomas nodded, unable to tear his eyes away from her. “Aye, she does,” he replied, his voice softer now, filled with an emotion he rarely allowed himself to feel. In that moment, he felt a connection to her that went beyond their shared history, beyond the political and familial implications of their marriage. It was something deeper, a bond that he hoped would grow stronger with time. The sound of the organ began to fill the room, a deep, resonant melody that signaled the start of the ceremony. The guests fell silent, their attention shifting to the doors that were slowly opening. Thomas took a deep breath, his heart pounding in his chest. This was it, the moment that would seal their fate, for better or worse. But it was never worse, it saw always for better. As she reached the front of the aisle, Luka placed her hand in Thomas’s, a gesture heavy with significance. Their eyes met, while under the veil; a silent understanding passing between them, He lifted the delicate veil that covered her face, their eyes meeting in a silent understanding. This was not just a marriage of convenience or strategy; it was a commitment to each other, to the future they would build together.

Jeremiah stood before them, the priest's presence both comforting and solemn. His voice, deep and resonant, filled the chapel, echoing off the ancient walls. "Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to join together in holy matrimony Thomas Michael Shelby and _______ LaPaglia Changretta." His words carried the weight of history and expectation, binding not just two people, but two families with a fraught past.

Thomas's eyes flickered to the woman beside him. _______ LaPaglia Changretta. She was beautiful, her dark hair cascading in soft waves over her shoulders, her eyes a deep, enigmatic brown. Her dress was elegant, simple yet stunning, the black fabric contrasting sharply with her olive skin. She stood with a quiet grace, her expression serene, yet there was a fire in her eyes that spoke of strength and determination.

Jeremiah's voice cut through the silence. "Do you, Thomas Michael Shelby, take _______ LaPaglia Changretta to be your lawful wedded wife?" Thomas felt the weight of the moment pressing down on him. Every decision, every move he made was calculated, and this was no different. "I do," he said, his voice steady, firm. It was a commitment not just to her, but to the path he had chosen, the alliances he was forging.

He turned to her. "Do you, _______ LaPaglia Changretta, solemnly swear to love, honor, and obey till death do you part?" Her response was immediate, her voice clear and unwavering. "I do." There was a finality in those words, a binding promise that echoed through the chapel, sealing their fates together.

Jeremiah's proclamation was met with a collective breath, as if the entire room had been holding it in anticipation. "I now pronounce you husband and wife." The words hung in the air, a declaration that felt both momentous and surreal. Thomas turned to his new wife, his expression unreadable. He leaned in, his lips brushing against hers in a kiss that sealed their union. It was a kiss that spoke of duty and obligation, but beneath it all, there was a spark, a glimmer of something more. As they turned to face their families, the applause was polite, restrained. This was no ordinary wedding, and the people gathered here understood the gravity of the situation. Arthur left the alter and walk to the pew to join his family. Their expression a mix of approval and caution. Polly Gray, ever the matriarch, watched with a keen eye, her sharp mind assessing every nuance, every subtle shift in the room.

The Changrettas were less expressive, their faces a mask of formality. Luca Changretta's presence was a dark cloud, a reminder of the delicate balance they were trying to achieve. His eyes bore into Thomas, a silent challenge that promised future confrontation. Thomas took her hand as they walked down the aisle, the weight of expectation heavy on his shoulders. Every step was a reminder of the path he had chosen, he wouldn’t ever regret it; the future he was forging. The guests rose as they passed, their eyes following the couple, whispers of speculation and curiosity filling the air. This was a union that would be talked about for years to come, a merging of two powerful families with a history of bloodshed and betrayal.

Outside the chapel, the sun shone brightly, a stark contrast to the somber atmosphere within. The reception awaited, a lavish affair that promised to be both a celebration and a test of the new alliance. As they stepped into the sunlight, Thomas felt the warmth on his face, a brief respite from the shadows that seemed to follow him wherever he went. He glanced at her, her smile a beacon of hope in the uncertainty that lay ahead.

"Welcome to the family," Thomas said, his voice low, the Birmingham accent thick and unmistakable.

The kitchen was a stark contrast to the rest of Arrow House, filled with the smell of freshly baked bread and the earthy scent of the wood burning in the hearth. Thomas stood at the head of the room, his piercing blue eyes scanning the room, ensuring he had the attention of every man present. The weight of the day was palpable; this was his wedding day, a day that marked a significant turning point in his life and the Shelby family. His dark suit was meticulously tailored, each stitch a testament to his attention to detail, and his peaked cap sat jauntily on his head, casting a shadow over his face that made his intense expression even more formidable.

"Right, boys, you're all here," he began, his voice carrying the authoritative edge that had come to define him. The men around the kitchen, his brothers Arthur, John, and Finn, along with Michael and a few trusted others, like Charlie and Johnny Dogs turned their attention to him. Each face was a study in respect and a touch of fear, for they knew Thomas was not a man to be crossed, especially not today.

"Today, this is my fucking wedding day," Thomas continued, his tone brooking no argument. His words hung in the air, heavy with the unspoken understanding that this day was sacred, not just for him, but for the entire Shelby clan. It was a rare occasion of vulnerability, where the hard-edged leader allowed a glimpse of the man beneath the armor.

John, ever the irreverent one, couldn't help but interject. "Yeah, and you said there'd be no bloody uniforms," he said, his voice tinged with a mixture of defiance and humor. The tension in the room crackled for a moment, a testament to the volatile nature of their relationships. Thomas fixed John with a steely gaze, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Nevertheless... Nevertheless, John..." he began, his voice a low growl that seemed to reverberate off the walls. He took a step closer, his presence dominating the room. "Despite the bad blood, I'll have none of it on my carpet." His words were a command, not a request, and the message was clear: today was about unity, not division.

His gaze swept around the circle, making eye contact with each man, ensuring they understood the gravity of his words. "Now for my wife's sake, nothing will go wrong," he declared, his voice firm and unyielding. His love for his bride was a rare softness in his otherwise hardened demeanor, and he was determined to protect her from the chaos that often surrounded the Shelbys. Thomas pointed outside the kitchen, towards the bustling preparations for the wedding. "Those bastards out there are her family," he said, his voice tinged with a hint of disdain. He had little patience for those who might threaten the harmony of his wedding day, and he would go to great lengths to ensure everything went smoothly.

His hand traveled around the circle, pointing at each man in turn as he spoke. "And if you fuckers do anything to embarrass her, your kin, your cousins, your horses, your fucking kids, you do anything..." His voice trailed off as he fixed his gaze on Arthur, the eldest and most unpredictable of the brothers. There was a pause, a moment where the weight of his words seemed to settle over the room like a heavy fog.

Isaiah, leaning casually against the counter, broke the uneasy silence. "Tom..?" Thomas's gaze snapped to Isaiah, a flicker of impatience crossing his features. "To... WHAT!?" he barked, his voice low but commanding.

He hesitated, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "What about snow," he ventured, his tone cautious. John eyes narrowed, the muscles in his jaw tightening. "Yeah, their women are sports, I’ll say that.."

"No. No. No." Thomas cut him off sharply, striding towards Isaiah with purpose. He stopped inches from his face, his breath hot and laced with the smell of tobacco. "No cocaine," he said, jabbing a finger towards Isaiah's face for emphasis. "No cocaine."

The room fell silent, the tension palpable as Thomas turned his attention to John, who stood to Isaiah's right. "No sport," Thomas said, waving his hand dismissively. "No telling fortunes."

He began to pace, the soles of his polished shoes tapping rhythmically against the tiled floor. Each step seemed to echo with unspoken threats, a reminder of the consequences of disobedience. He approached Arthur, his oldest and most volatile brother, stopping just short of him. "No racing," Thomas ordered, his voice a low growl. Arthur met his gaze with a slight nod, the fire in his eyes dimmed by his brother's authority. Breaking from the circle, Thomas crossed to Finn, the youngest of the Shelby brothers. Grabbing Finn's face with his left hand, he forced him to look into his eyes. "No fucking sucking petrol," he snarled, his grip tightening. He delivered a light slap to Finn's cheek, a reminder of the discipline he expected. "Out of their fucking cars."

Satisfied, Thomas released Finn and turned to Charlie, who had been lingering on the edge of the group. "And, you, Charlie," he said, his voice softer but no less intense. "Stop spinning yards about me, eh?" Charlie, taken aback, spoke up as Thomas turned his back. "I'm just trying to sell you to them, Tom," he defended.

Thomas took a deep drag from his cigarette, the smoke curling around his face as he exhaled. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands, a rare sign of the stress he carried. Returning to the center of the circle, he spun slowly, addressing them all. "But the main thing is, you bunch of fuckers," he began, his voice rising with intensity. "Despite the provocation from her family, no fighting."

He turned his head slightly, locking eyes with Isaiah. The room seemed to hold its breath as Thomas slowly made his way toward him, the echo of his footsteps on the wooden floor punctuating the silence. As he reached Isaiah, Thomas lifted his chin with a firm but controlled hand, forcing Isaiah to meet his gaze. His eyes were cold, yet there was a flicker of something deeper—an unspoken understanding, perhaps. “Oi,” Thomas began, his voice a low growl that resonated with authority. He pointed a finger at Isaiah, his expression unwavering. “No fighting.”

With a swift, deliberate movement, Thomas shifted to his right, positioning himself in front of John. He didn’t waste a moment, his finger darting out to point at John with the same intensity. “No fucking fighting,” he repeated, his tone leaving no room for argument. John's smirk faltered under Thomas's glare, replaced by a nod of compliance.

Thomas moved again, this time to Arthur. Their eyes met, and an unspoken tension filled the air. Arthur, ever the wild card, was the one Thomas needed to keep in check the most. Pointing at his older brother, Thomas's voice was a commandment. “No fighting.” Arthur, his usual bravado momentarily subdued, nodded with a grunt, understanding the gravity of the order. Next, Thomas’s eyes fell on Michael, who was leaning against the wall with a nonchalant air. Without a word, Thomas pointed at him. Michael straightened up, his casual demeanor replaced by a look of acknowledgement. The silent exchange spoke volumes—Michael knew exactly what was expected of him.

Finally, Thomas turned towards Finn’s direction, his youngest brother, “No,” he said, his voice slicing through the tension. He then swung his gaze back to Arthur’s direction. “Fucking.” And finally, his eyes landed on Charlie's direction. “Fighting.”

The room fell silent once more, the weight of Thomas’s words hanging heavily in the air. Each man understood the simplicity of the command. In this room, defying Thomas Shelby was not an option. Thomas took a drag from his cigarette, the ember glowing brightly in the dim light, and exhaled a plume of smoke. He walked towards his coat, which was draped over a chair between Michael and Arthur. “Good,” he muttered, his satisfaction evident in the single word. With his back turned slightly, Thomas didn’t see the butler approaching. The man, new to the household and unfamiliar with the Shelby way, hesitated for a moment too long. The collision was inevitable. The impact was sudden, and Thomas spun around, his face a mask of fury. “Get the fuck off me!” he snarled, shoving the butler to the ground. The bottle of wine the butler had been holding shattered on the floor, red liquid spreading like blood across the wood.

Arthur, ever the enforcer, hurled his glass at the butler, the sound of shattering glass echoing through the room. The butler scrambled to his feet, fear written all over his face as he hurried out of the kitchen, leaving behind a mess of broken glass and spilled wine. Thomas exhaled one last plume of smoke before stubbing out his cigarette in the ashtray. He adjusted his coat, smoothing out the fabric as he straightened up. “Right,” he said, his voice breaking the silence. “Let’s get this done.” He turned on his heel and strode out of the kitchen, his family and comrades falling into step behind him. The sound of their footsteps echoed through the hallway as they made their way towards the main event. Thomas’s mind was already racing ahead, planning, strategizing, ensuring that everything would go smoothly. But the words he had spoken in the kitchen lingered in the air, a solemn vow that no matter what happened, there would be no fighting. Not today.

As Thomas Shelby sat at the head of the table during his wedding dinner, the room was alive with the clinking of cutlery and the murmur of conversation. He raised the crystal glass to his lips, savoring the last drops of whiskey that burned pleasantly down his throat. Setting the glass down with a soft clink, his eyes swept across the room, taking in the faces of his family and the guests. His gaze lingered for a moment on his wife her beauty striking even in the dim candlelight. She was radiant, her smile lighting up the room. But as his eyes drifted to her father, he noticed the man's steely gaze fixed upon him. Thomas arched an eyebrow, a faint smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

"You look absolutely stunning today, luv," Thomas remarked, his voice low and tinged with admiration. "Hard to keep me eyes off of you." He reached out to gently squeeze her hand, a small, affectionate gesture amidst the formality of the occasion.

"I can say the same for you, Mr. Shelby," she replied, her smile radiant as she returned his gaze, her eyes sparkling with happiness.

Thomas smiled, a rare, genuine expression that softened his features. His attention then shifted to her father, a man of stature and presence, seated a bit farther down to her. "Well, you're not the only one whose eyes are on me, eh?" he quipped, a hint of playful charm in his voice.

"Luv," he murmured, leaning towards his wife, "would you mind telling your father to stop staring me down, eh?" His tone was light, teasing, but there was a hint of challenge in his eyes.

His bride glanced nervously at her father, then back at Thomas. "Tommy, I'm sorry," she whispered, her voice tinged with apprehension, "but that's just how he is."

Thomas nodded slowly, his gaze unwavering. "I see," he replied, his voice low and measured. He leaned back in his chair, his mind working quickly. He was used to dealing with difficult situations, but this was his wedding day, a day that should have been free of such tensions.

There was a moment of hesitation, a flicker of doubt in Thomas's eyes as he considered the weight of his actions. But then, with a determined glint in his eye, he reached out and gently cupped her face in his hand. She looked at him, her eyes shining with unshed tears, and he knew that this was where he belonged. Leaning in, he pressed his lips to hers in a kiss that was both tender and passionate, a silent declaration of his love and commitment. The room erupted into applause and cheers, the sound echoing off the walls as Thomas and Luka's families celebrated their union.

Hours had slipped by like fleeting ghosts since Thomas had exchanged vows, and now, in the quiet intimacy of their bedroom, he sat with his new wife perched gently on his lap. The flickering light from the bedside lamp cast a warm glow, accentuating the soft features of her face and the delicate curves of her figure. He gazed at her, his eyes tracing every line, every contour, as if committing her beauty to memory.

"You're absolutely gorgeous, Mrs. Shelby," he murmured, his voice a low, husky rasp that betrayed a hint of awe. His hands, calloused yet gentle, cradled her waist, fingers tracing idle patterns on the fabric of her dress. The weight of her presence on his lap was a comfort, grounding him in the reality of this new chapter of his life.

"I like when you call me Mrs. Shelby," she said softly, her voice a soothing melody in the quiet room. Her words were like a balm to his weary soul, a reminder of the new life they were beginning together.

Thomas wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer to him. He rested his chin on her shoulder, breathing in the scent of her hair. It was a moment of peace amidst the chaos that always seemed to follow him.

"I like it too," he replied, his voice low and gravelly. "It suits you, Mrs. Shelby."

"You're fuckin' perfect for me... y'know that?" Thomas's voice was low, almost a whisper, but filled with sincerity. His hand reached up to cup her face, his thumb brushing gently against her cheek. There was a gentleness in his touch, a rare vulnerability that he showed only to her.

Their lips met in a tender kiss, a silent affirmation of their love and commitment to each other. It was a moment of pure intimacy, a shared connection that transcended words. Her hands roamed freely, exploring his body with a familiarity that spoke of countless nights spent together. Thomas pulled her closer, his other hand wrapping around her waist, holding her as if afraid she might slip away. Their kiss deepened, a silent communication of their love and desire for each other. It was a dance they knew well, a rhythm that was uniquely theirs. Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss even further. His hair, usually so meticulously styled, was now a tousled mess, a testament to the passion between them. She loved the way his hair felt between her fingers, the way it seemed to have a life of its own.

They broke the kiss, but remained intertwined, her head resting against his chest, his chin on her shoulder. They sat in comfortable silence, the weight of the day's events slowly settling on their shoulders. The gravity of their new union was not lost on Thomas; he knew the responsibilities that came with it, the need to protect and provide for his new family. His mind drifted to the future, a future now entwined with hers. He thought of the challenges they would face, the dangers that lurked in the shadows of their world. But he also thought of the moments of joy, the simple pleasures they would share.

Author’s Notes:

Y’all, I fucking love this oneshot..it’s so cute I finally did my own rendition of the wedding scene..ahhhhhhhh I feel like I got it just right y’all..ahh it’s fucking cute!!!

Deadass I should have written smut but nah, I don’t feel like it

[your-nanas-house]

hi nana !

I’m currently under the weather with a chest infection):

Could you possibly write something fluffy for me with any of Cillians characters ??

Omg, darling 🥺 Hope you will recover quickly and that it's not too painful. 🍀 I did just 4 characters because I couldn't choose! And just little drabbles with soft/fluff moments. Let me know if you want other characters or something more specific!

'Lowering your guard'

◇ Pairing: Thomas Shelby X fem!Reader [(age gap) they are both off age]

His calloused fingers were rubbing slightly the skin of his nose as he pinched its bridge, a tired expression adorned his older face slightly hidden from his circulare shaped glasses

"I got it, eh... just come here" Tommy finally spit out gruffly, his usual cold eyes and stern look now softer than expected. His fingers pushed the glasses back in place before he gesturing you to approach his desk and armchair.

His thighs were already spread, his arms resting comfortably on the armrests ready to shift to hold your body as soon as you straddled him. His big hands, a bit dirty from the writing, started to rub your back, creating imaginary relaxing shapes.

The man didn't open his mouth, continuing to read through his papers as you rested on him, head on his broad shoulders and hands busy stroking his short hair.

.

◇ Pairing: Robert Fischer X fem!Reader (lovers)

Your gaze was blank, staring at the wall of the hotel room as you laid in bed. The sheets shielding your half naked body from the cool breeze, making your skin react with goosebumps.

The only lights there were the soft one of the moon, shining through the half closed curtains and the dim light of the rich bathroom where Robert was freshing himself up after the previous intimacy.

You were lost in your own world and thoughts, not realizing immediately the warm hands that sneaked up from your leg to the curve of your hip nor the breath against the back of your neck.

"Do you mind if we could cuddle?" His whisper coming out almost hesitantly; you didn't comment or reply. You just shifted your body closer so that Robert could easily spoon you with a small smile.

.

◇ Pairing: Patricia 'Kitten' Braden X fem!Reader (+ Charlie's child)

Your heartbeat was still racing from the lovely night you've spent with the woman next to you.

A lovely dinner, an amazing walk, and now a funny movie in an open cinema, in the cosiness of your car as you cuddle with her in the back seats

"I'm glad for this evening even if you had to bring your friend's Charlie kid along" you whisper, glancing down at the sleeping kid between you two.

Patricia didn't answer immediately, shifting her light eyes towards your face before offering you a tender smile and a kiss on your cheek, which left a beautiful mark made of her lip gloss.

.

◇ Pairing: Jonathan Crane X fem!Reader (professor x university student)

It was odd but strangely not unpleasant. When he asked you a couple of days ago to grab a coffee with him, your reaction was one of pure shock and hesitation, but now you were glad to have made the right decision... even if you were sitting in front of your professor in a cosy cafeteria.

The strong but sweet liquid warmed up your throat as you swallowed; your eyes focused on Jonathan, Dr. Crane, glancing from his piercing eyes to his charming smile as he kept talking about something you weren't quite catching.

A soft music could be heard from the intimate table he had chosen, making the atmosphere even more romantic. The good conversation was just an addictional point to the whole "soft package".

"If I can be honest, Miss— Y/n, If I may... I'm glad you agreed to this"

"Me too, professor— sorry, the habit... Jonathan"

[darlingsfandom]

“ In the City of Wonder..”

kinktober day seven.

pairing: Johnathan Crane x Fem Reader.

tw: kidnapping, pet play, fingering, edging and swearing .

Tears ran down your cheeks as you stood on the sidewalk looking around for someone, anyone! No one was around it was as if the city had gone to sleep. Theres no lights on in any building, no sounds other than the sounds of nature and a train far off in the distance.

How? Why? This was supposed to be a nice little break that you had need, a quiet vacation away from every day life and now you’re stuck in a city you don’t know , with no one around besides the Jack ass who had just robbed you at gun point and ran off. You should have just stayed at home.

“Are you alright?” His voice made you jump.

“Jesus Christ !” You grabbed your chest in a panic.

“Well no, he’s dead and I’m here.” The man pushed up his glasses with his finger as he stepped closer to you. “Looks like you’re having a hard time.” You swallowed the lump in your throat. Every signal in your body was telling you to run but fear had made you tense up and freeze. He looked polite enough but even poisonous fruit looks tempting.

“I uh.. no.. I was held at gun point and the loser took my purse!” You spoke softly but he heard you.

“Well could you describe him?”

“What are you ? The police?” You felt the anger of the situation rise in you as the man with the glasses tilted his head. You rolled your eyes before letting out a sigh. “I’m not trying to be a bitch , there’s just a lot of emotions!”

The man put his finger on your lips which made your eyebrows furrow. He moved to close the gap between your bodies. Your eyes looked into his before you felt his hand wrap around your throat tightly. “If you’re smart, you’ll get your purse back! If you’re dumb… I’m sure you can figure out what will happen.” His breath was hot on your face as you grabbed onto his arm to try to pull it off. “Don’t fight me little girl.” That made you stop fighting!

His lips formed a devilish smile as he pulled you down the street and into an abandoned looking building. With a quick shove he had you on the floor that was cold against your skin.

“Please don’t kill me!” The tears started up again. He watched you cry and it turned him on.

“Now why on earth would I kill such a pretty thing like you? No that wouldn’t be right.” He got down on his knees next to you and grabbed your face forcing you to look at him. He was a good looking man, that you couldn’t deny. His hands squeezed your cheeks together making you whine to which he made a fake pout with his lips. “Oh look at you, so sad and pathetic baby. You know I’ve been watching you this whole time, what’s a girl like you doing in a place like this hmm? No one in their right mind comes here for fun …” he took his hand off your face and ran it through your hair.

“How could you be watching me? I just got here a few days ago!” You yelped when you felt him pull your hair.

“I have my ways. I will say you did seem a bit boring at first. Your coffee order was that of everyone else, but then I realized you’re here alone. No ring on your finger either, truly alone. No one would care if you didn’t come back. That’s why you’re going to be my new little pet.”

You sat there looking at him with a pout of your face. He ran his hand over your cheek before he stood up and walked away. You chose not to fight because now was your chance. The door clicked shut and you scrambled to your feet before running for the door but as soon as you opened the door you screamed because he was standing there with his hands behind his back.

“What a stupid idea.” He spat at you before stepping forward until your back hit the wall. “You really thought I’d let you leave so easily? No no, that’s not how this works.” He waved his finger in your face before you felt him put something around your neck. When you looked down it was simple black collar with a chain leash attached. “Pretty little pet.” He patted your head gently before yanking the chain hard enough to choke you. “Get on your knees.” He snapped making you quickly follow orders.

The coolness of the floor provided you some relief from how hot your skin felt. Your hands rested on your lap while you hung your head low because the realization of what he said was hitting you. How could this man know so much in such little time? Your train of thought was pulled off the tracks when the sudden yank of the chain made you gasp and lean forward. His hand tightened around the chain as he pulled you forward. “Good little pet.” He walked with you out of the room and down a hallway but he had you walking on all fours.

“There’s no need to worry anymore.” He unlocked a door and to your surprise it was actually a very nice apartment. “Be a good little pet and sit.” You did as he said before he walked away and came back with something in his hand. He put the cat ears on your head and it made you confused.

“What is your name ?” You spoke softly making him smile. A sweet voice for a sweet girl.

“Crane. That’s all you need to know.” He grabbed your leash and took you to the bedroom. He pulled you up onto your feet and within a second your back was hitting the bed making you whine. Crane stood over you dragging his hand over your body before he unzipped your pants, pulled them down and raise his eyebrow.

“For such a scared little pet when I met, you sure do have a big wet spot. Your little cunt needs to be breed doesn’t it ?” His fingers ran over your cunt making you shiver.

“Please!” You let out a moan as he watched you. You looked so cute , barely being touched and begging for more.

“Please what ?”

“Please breed me master !” Did you really just say that ? What was happening to you ? How could one man know all about your kinks ? To be fair he did say he had been watching you but that’s beside the point. His fingers slipped inside of you making you grip the bed. His fingers were long and a little thick. The sound of your wetness filled the room as Crane sat on the bed next to you fingering your pussy. He took his time going nice and deep wanting to make sure you felt pleasure because soon he’d be using you for his own.

Crane used his free hand to pull up your shirt to which you sat up to help him take it off. The power he had over you made him drunk with the taste. It was pure ecstasy to him how easy in the end you gave up everything to be his little pet. You sat exposed with hardened nipples , rosy cheeks and something like a smile as he admired your exposed body.

“In the end, you will do as I say and I’ll make you very happy but I dare you to cross me sweetheart… see what happens.” His words made you clench around his fingers that had picked up the pace as he spoke to you in a harsh tone.

Your pulse was racing, eyes rolling back and to your own surprise you felt your tongue slip out of your mouth and hang as he made you squirm against the medical table. You looked like a dumb bitch in heat which is what he wanted!

“Please please please !! Please!” You whimpered as you thrusted your hips upwards to get more friction. The rough palm of his hand rubbed against your clit while his fingers twisted in and out of your wet cunt.

“You think you deserve to cum hmm?” His tone was cocky and thick.

“Oh fuck! Yes please sir!” Tears dripped from the corner of your eye making his cock twitch.

“Cute, but after how rude you were before you can suffer.” Johnathan pulled out his fingers without a warning, licked his fingers and smirked as you left you laying on the table fully on edge. If this was torture then bring it on because this was the most you’ve ever felt wanted.

[prettypeppermint]

crane's paradox.

for dr. j. crane.

The water dribbled down your back like tear tracks, shushing your steamed and tender skin. He moved the showerhead in methodical circles against your rosy shoulder blades, large hands pilfering at your kelpy locks.

He sat on a stool adjacent to the tub, loving you with water--a language of change.

Despite the serenity taking place behind you, the scene before you was one of demented horrors--every irrational terror rationalized before your eyes. The water was black and bottomless, ostensibly swallowing your naked body up--oxidizing your skin and fermenting your organs. Your legs twitched periodically, trying to feel for the confines of the tub but getting continuously tricked by a vast emptiness. Faces emerged from the depths, twisted and morphed into something barely human. They groped at your waist and chest, each hand a searing blaze against your flesh.

The water rippled frantically as your every fiber trembled, frozen in a rock-solid state of shock. You couldn't blink.

The more he washed, the more blood trickled down the various valleys and edges of your form, swirling with the ridges of each tiny stream that eroded at your scalp, your back, your face. Ghosts of self-inflicted clawing stung your face.

Jonathan was wordless--a silent force of love. You didn't even realize he was there with you. You often felt alone, even in love. But feeling alone in fear was an entirely new feeling of dread.

"You were a bad girl today, angel.” The words barely permeated your foggy skull before you realized he was lifting you out of the water, “Bad girls need treatment so that they can be good again." He cradled your languid figure against his chest, drops of rose-tinted water leaking from your calves and the tips of your toes as they dangled across the nook of his elbow.

"I'm so very sorry it all turned out this way," he cooed, setting you down on the foot of his bed--the crisp snow hills of his duvet. He towered over you as he brought a towel to your locks and began drying them off with the touch of a feather. "But when you go exploring in forbidden places against my orders"--he makes his way down, patting each arm dry before wiping down your breasts--"you'll end up getting hurt."

Your eyes were forlorn and affixed on a faraway place, hallucinations still warping themselves into the tendrils of his hair and the wall behind him as he moved. He began dressing you in a set of white, lacy undergarments he had picked out for you prior. "And you know how much I detest seeing my angel hurt."

He slid the material up your legs and hoisted them over your hips with a trained dexterity. After clasping the brassiere between the place where your shoulder blades would kiss, he leaned down to press his tongue to the crest of your shoulder. Your skin was still radiating a firey warmth from the bath.

"But isn't something about it so thrilling? The thin membrane that separates fear and desire? The cerebrum keeps the left and right brain from ever touching, yet in doing so it maintains the unabridged function of the brain as one; they communicate through proximate isolation. Funny, isn't it? How that slim distance maintains the entire equilibrium--the entire function of the organ. Tell me, my love--would there be a Thisbe and Pyramus without the wall that separated their passion for each other? It's fascinating--the way in which the truest form of love prevails in the slimmest, most dire times of pain and fear. Oh, how I adore seeing you like this--at the mercy of my creation. So perfect--so effortlessly lovely and delicate even in this state of absolute terror.

"Let me love you--let me ease the pain out of you. Let me break the membrane that separates us, and we can join as one."

The last words grazed the chill of your earlobe as his breath teased at your pulse. You weren't sure when he'd wrapped his arms around you and locked you against his torso, but you began unraveling in his firmness. Your tensed muscles relaxed, and the visions began to subside. You saw them dissipating from the air; like mist having gone from an autumn morning before the leaves and birds awoke to notice the absence of the chill; like water swirling down the drain.

"I'm scared," you managed to croak. It came out dry and barely intelligible from hours of coaxed silence. He embedded shushes into the crown of your head.

This wasn't the work of the toxin; it was the hollow pit of desolation it left you with afterward.

"Jonathan, I'm scared," you repeated. The last consonant got lodged in your throat as a stifled cry scraped its way out before it. It was a foreign sort of comfort--crying into his skin and melting against his hold. "I'm so scared. What did you do to me?"

But Jonathan didn't do anything to you; it was you who snuck into his lab despite the rules he set for you. It was you who walked into an untimely experiment of torture on Scarecrow's most recent lab rat.

He pulled you into a kiss, the span of his fingers stretching around the entire back of your head. It was soft yet hungry, yearning yet kind. You seemed to be caught in all sorts of dichotomies today.

"You know I would never lay a finger on you," he muttered against your lower lip, "You're too soft--too delicate. As long as you're with me, I promise nothing will ever hurt you again.

"Now let me take care of you," he lulled, gently laying you back against the cool sheets, "Let Doctor treat you."

His lips gently ghosted the thin skin above your belly button before he looked up at you with an almost alienating, stoic countenance. "Say it."

Something went cold in the blue of his eyes--a shadow cast by a passing cloud.

"Please," you whispered, "Please fix me, Doctor."

x.

[darthannie]

Cillian Murphy Character Masterlist

Reminder of who I'll write for:

(I do not write rpf!)

Neil Lewis Jonathan Crane Jackson Rippner Jim (The Delinquent Season) Raymond Leon Thomas Shelby Robert Capa

Please check tags before you read!

KINKTOBER '23 MASTERLIST

NEIL LEWIS

thursday night out (fluff)- Neil can't sleep and neither can you. A late-night conversation leads to revelations.

Neil Lewis NSF/W Alphabet

JONATHAN CRANE

potential side effects (dark smut)- After giving you an experimental medication, Dr. Crane helps you get over your fear of intimacy. 

nap time (dark(?) smut request)- Jonathan comes home and finds you asleep. He simply can't help himself.

JIM (THE DELINQUENT SEASON)

thesis statement (smut)- You accidentally bump into your Professor, Jim, at a sex shop.

purpose statement (smut) (pt 2 of TS)

assess and discuss (part 3 of TS)

THOMAS SHELBY

grand gestures (fluffy request)- Tommy spoils you and you have a hard time accepting it.

water works (smutty drabble request)- Tommy helps you squirt for the first time.

RAYMOND LEON

Raymond Leon NSF/W Alphabet

[asmutwriter]

Me: I should really write the next chapter for that story before I start writing any more

Also me: Starts writing an entirely new story