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sl4sh3rsub · 2 years ago

Text

rz michael myers hcs (nsfw: mdni)

rz michael myers x reader (AFAB, AMAB, FtM, MtF)

warning: a lot here. mikey has a monster cock, insecure + inexperienced michael, he doesn't talk but makes noise + mouths words + grunts syllables sometimes (selectively mute ig?), oral sex (both giving and receiving), excessive creampies, fingering (receiving), no lube we die like men his dick n spit does it for him, masturbation, rimming (both giving and receiving), knife kink, excessive mentions of precum + spit + cum, creative use of cum/arousal fluids in arts projects, musk kink, choking (receiving), mentions of sex toys, thigh humping, mention of canon SA and violence (nothing w/ or directly involving reader), p in v + anal (all unprotected - pls stay safe irl), cum eating, slight somnophilia, bruises and hickeys, cockwarming, slight worship (receiving), dry humping, handjobs, 2 mentions of him having a mini shrine to you, mentions of needle hrt in ftm + mtf bits (feel free to ignore), mentions of the institute/asylum

a/n: sorta edited. tried not to be too ooc, but it's more focused on a softer side of michael - personally i think his character is very different to og/peepaw myers! rz mikey is more based in instinct rather than previous experiences/societal expectations, so there's more general hcs than separate sections this time. NOTE: feel free to read any sections, tried my best to not use gendered terms in agab sections but lmk how i can improve :3

order: general hcs first then amab + afab then ftm + mtf, different sections = different content n tried not to repeat much

_ _ _ _ _

general hcs

as michael is very inexperienced with kissing, he'll smash his lips against yours and become a huffing mess after he gets worked up from your breath mingling with his and your darkening gazes meeting

if you play with his hair and gaze into his eyes, he can't help it if he gets half-hard - his body will always needily react to your attention and affection

he's most at home in grey sweatpants - he's very used to wearing them while making his masks and associates them with comfort and the years of creatively honing his craft

so naturally, don't be surprised when his already impressive girth pulses and thickens at the sight of you bending over or reaching something off a high shelf

mikey will absolutely make you your own special mask!! although, the glue he uses for your personal paper mâché mix is a bit more,, personal. he'll also use your arousal to paint the inner layer of his favourite mask :( he simply needs to have some semblance of you with him at all times, especially whenever he's out on the town and away from your embrace

he's borderline hypersexual and gets half-hard and extremely sensitive without reason, however he doesn't always feel the need to act on his urges with you. expect him hiding his arousal during mundane activities, getting flushed and shy when he realises that you notice :<

if he's comfortable on the couch, he'll make himself at home with a horrendous manspread. naturally, this leads to him getting flustered whenever you kneel in between his legs with a mischievous glint in your eye. if you ask him sweetly, he'll be more than happy to sit you in between his strong thighs and let you hump into his hand while you both watch a movie

if he's not feeling like he wants to be inside you, he'll lie on his back with his knees up, pulling you to straddle his waist and lean back against his thighs. from this angle, he's able to watch you play with yourself and masturbate above him while feeling your weight grounding him, just out of reach but almost close enough to taste

he loves taking you from behind and kissing the base of your neck, your breathless giggles echoing in his ears as his long hair tickles your shoulders and back

michael loves having you cockwarm him while he makes his masks!! he adores it when you doze off with your cheek smushed into his shoulder during a late night arts-and-crafts session, the slow pulse of his heartbeat deep inside you

he's so, so incredibly thankful for you, that he's able to unleash his frustrations into you, whether it be about a ripped mask or just about pentup emotions. he's eternally thankful for your love and under the table support

you are mikey's angel, his true saving grace. after his long bout at the institute, he was fully convinced that being loved by anyone was impossible for him. your welcoming arms and gentle praise proved him wrong and completely changed his image of heaven - to michael, it's no longer a cloudy sky mentioned in those old books, it's your warm embrace and loving gaze. it just took him a little while to realise that he was in his own little paradise with you

he tries his hardest to treat you with absolute reverence and adoration T-T he's devoted to making you feel good with him, no matter what. usually, this means holding back from skullfucking you at a brutal pace whenever you give him head. your throat is just so tight around him :( it's got him steadying himself against a wall with his hand, shaking and sweating from holding back, with his gorgeous, garbled moans encouraging you to swallow the saltiness of his length

mikey's wandering hands always end up on your ass or tummy whenever you cuddle together, it's just comforting for him

he's one of the strongest, largest men to ever walk the earth, but the way he gently traces your facial features makes you forget that completely. michael handles you like you're made of porcelain, only using soft pressure unless you assure him he won't break you easily

he has a big, strong and beefy body. lord knows how he maintained it in the institute but with you, he's gonna try his damnedest to put all of his strength to good use - whether it be getting you off while fingering you, his toned forearms barely breaking a sweat or his tree trunk thighs tensing while you ride them

mikey is not trimmed or well-groomed downstairs, his pubes are a wild and unkempt cloud of blonde and light grey hair, so you know he's not caring about how you look at all. you're a fuckin deity in his eyes and he'll dispose of anyone who makes you feel anything other than heavenly

michael is uncut, big and thick, with a large vein running up the underside - so heavy and large that it can't even stand up against his belly, instead slightly bobbing with his pulse and hanging low. it's the type you see in lewd magazines, where it tilts down even when fully hard

when you're on your knees for him, expect his weepy cockhead to drip onto your face while you kiss and nip at his heavy, full balls

oh yeah, this man has the definition of breeder balls; hanging low, swollen and filled to the brim with his potent cum. he truly has so much to give, so you'd better be ready for multiple loads throughout the night

in contrast to michael's hard cock, his nipples are soft and incredibly sensitive. if he's trying to cum as fast as possible, he'll sneak a hand up his shirt and pinch at them relentlessly - make sure they're puffy and spit-glazed after you've been ontop, he goes absolutely feral would really appreciate it

mikey has massive hands too - his fingers are enough to fill you considerably, but he often resorts to stuffing your mouth with them or using his palm to muffle your noises if you're being vocal. he definitely doesn't want the cops called on you just because he's great at pleasuring you

his cock feels heavy inside you, almost like he's deep in your chest whenever he bottoms out. the weight is absolutely dizzying as it stretches you out each thrust and rubs all of the right places. he easily gets drunk on the feeling of you clenching around him, leading to his head being tossed back with drool dribbling down his chin at the sensation

he has the biggest size kink possible but he really doesn't want to get carried away when exerting his strength and size on you - he doesn't want to get carried away or hurt you too badly :(

michael uses whatever knife he can get his hands on during foreplay to add a bit of risk and edge. cutting off your underwear and shirt, tracing down thighs and hips and gently nicking your skin every once in a while, but he quickly tosses it if you beg him to fuck you desperately enough - he doesn't wanna hurt you that bad, not before he's even gotten started

mikey is incredibly insecure about himself and his own worth as a person. he fears your love is only temporary and that you'll move on, leaving him behind as a memory or an adrenaline rush of foolish regret :( for that reason, he's terrified to go too hard or hurt you badly - he's convinced you'll be in pain and be fearful of him if he fucks up. be sure to reassure him when you're together after you have a rougher time and he's manhandling you more <3

initially when he learnt about dry humping, he was confused as to why he craved the friction so desperately but he's learnt to give in - michael will almost immediately cum in his pants if you quietly reassure him you'll clean up the mess you're both bound to leave on his clothes. half the fun (in his eyes, at least) is seeing you get flustered over the sheer amount of his load that's seeping into his boxers from just that little bit of friction

his favourite place to have you is on his lap - cockwarming, cuddling or napping, he does not care. he needs to have your face pressed into his neck with his larger frame providing you with warmth and stability

will rarely fist his cock but if you ever catch him, you might be able to make out his lips repeating the shape of your name over and over

for a long while at the start of your.. arrangement, he had no idea how to initiate sex. he'd just hover close to you, desperately hoping you'd notice the heat radiating from his massive, obvious bulge. would start to bite the inside of his cheek and guide your body towards him in a desperate hint if you didn't clock it immediately

he also did not know shit about the human anatomy, so he'll need you to guide him to where you want to be touched and with a bit of coaching, he'll learn the correct pressure and pace to get you off easily

if you tease him while he's in his overalls, the sight of his lower region slowly darkening with his endless pre and the sound of his haggard breathing devolving into animalistic grunts is nearly enough to make your knees give out

michael isn't a massive fan of fucking you on your bed, especially if your room is in a similar layout to his back at the institute. haunting memories brought on by the guards cast negative clouds across his mind and that is the last thing he wants with you. he'd much prefer to go at it against a wall, the couch or even the floor. most of the time, around his desk is where the action happens and your bed is solely reserved for sleep <3

he loves smearing his precum all over your face, loves letting his musk seep into your skin while your eyes glaze over with lust

he cups your chin, cheek and jaw whenever you have his full attention and his heart melts when you nuzzle into him - his thumb plays with your bottom lip and if you decide to suck on it to keep your mouth occupied, so expect to have mikey silently begging you to cockwarm him while his brain goes fuzzy

while you relax for the evening, watching a movie together, expect him to position you with your head on his thigh (your face way to close to his crotch ofc)

michael loves you sucking on his soft cock and warming him with your mouth, he adores the slow feeling of him growing hard as you moan and gag around his length

when you introduce him to the concept of the sixty-nine position, he absolutely short-circuits. what do you mean you can both suffocate in each other's musk while getting each other off?? what do you mean he can prop himself up above you so he can spend time teasing you while forcing you to choke on his length???

michael always cums a bit too quickly and a bit too much - the moment he enters you for the first time, he can't help but fill you up immediately (good thing he's blessed with inhuman stamina)

he's also the biggest fan of you offering to clean up the mess of his cum dripping down his shaft - if your ass is a bit tender and sore from his rough pace, he's more than happy to soften in your mouth while the two of you catch your breath and wind down

mikey isn't very confident with toys and would much rather pleasure you by himself, but he wouldn't mind learning slowly what you prefer over time

he's also not a fan of lube - it feels too cold on his skin and the slippery nature of it scares him a little, so the best way to get him all coated in pre (for your comfort ofc) is to rim him. his tip drools and spits out so much of his arousal whenever you fuck him with your tongue, rest assured it'll bubble down his shaft and drip onto your chest. the delicious flush of his neck and upper chest is a glorious sight to behold

he first feels the urge to make love to you slowly after he sees a steamy, romantic sex scene with a married couple on television - he wants to give you the warmth and care the actors portray on screen

when you first offered to give him head, he tentatively slapped his cock against your tongue to test waters and see if you liked the taste but ended up addicted to the feeling. he'll smack it against your lips and tongue every time you're on your knees for him

his heavy balls slapping against your chin while he floods your mouth with salty, thick warmth is one of his favourite sounds

he starts breathily whimpering in his gravelly voice whenever he fully bottoms out in your heat, one of the rare moments when he totally loses control over his lust for you

he grunts out the syllables of your name when he's about to cum, digging his fingers into your hips and nipping your neck, leaving deep marks on your skin

mikey gets the same rush whenever you both cum together as to when he stabs someone and kills them after a long game of cat and mouse - there's a reason why the french call it 'petit mortis', a little death

the first time the two of you had sex, it brought out such intense emotions from michael that he was left shaken, crying from confusion about the onslaught of feelings he just shared with you. he is originally torn between holding you close and never letting you go as well as instantly leaving and isolating himself in his own space - like he's used to. he needs time to fully mull over the situation and new sensations he experienced but he would really like to have you nearby incase he needs a hug :(

on a long day, after you've given him head, he'll softly catch his breath while watching you blissfully hum and rest your cheek against his thigh. he huffs a small chuckle as you press light kisses into his softening cock

myers really doesn't want to hurt your ass or bruise your upper thighs too much as he needs to have you perched on his lap whenever he can, but you can expect tender skin from his hips slapping into you as well as bruises from his grip on your waist and hips

if he was too rough with you the night before (maybe accidentally leaving bone-deep bruises or purple marks and scratches along your body), he'll disappear early next morning and return during breakfast with a fistful of fresh tulips as an apology, with their stems partially crushed. just be sure to rinse off the dirt still attached to the roots, it's the thought that counts :<

michael may be inexperienced and bashful but he'll try anything once if it gets you off and brings you pleasure

michael loves to place his hand around your throat, just as a reminder of his sheer strength and power over you. with the slightest amount of pressure, he could make your brain go dumb and your tongue loll out

he chokes you until your eyes become unfocused, your little gasps and whines becoming softer and softer. the proud glint in michael's eyes is deserved, as you fully trusted him with your life while you were in your most vulnerable position. he holds you close while you unsteadily catch your breath, mumbling about how good you are to him and stroking your hair all the while

if you're too shy to look up at him while he fucks you or gives you head, he'll tilt your chin up and groan when your cheeks flush at his blown out pupils

he's the type to not pull out after, needing to soften and catch his breath while still feeling connected, inadvertently overstimulating you without fail as his whole body is racked with aftershocks

if he's feeling mean, michael will make you hump his thigh while he palms at his dick during one of his arts and crafts sessions

he wipes the last dribbles of his cum on your inner thighs after he pulls out. he'll clean it either way - with a damp towel or his tongue, it's up to you <3

occasionally after a spree, he'll need to let his mind rest and will use you as his cute little fleshlight, burying himself deep inside you while guiding your hips along with his rhythm at a bruising pace. if you pay close attention, you'll see his lips forming silent prayers and whispers of apology whenever you yelp from the pace

his post-kill musk is potent enough to make your head spin. if you rest your cheek against his pectoral, you'll be able to feel his heartbeat start to slow against you :<

his guilty pleasure is pulling out while cumming thick spurts, slapping his tip across your skin while smearing his load all over you, be it your lips and cheeks or ass and thighs

michael doesn't want to disturb your sleep if he's needy, so he'll slip your hand in between his boxers and pajama pants to feel your smaller hand against his throbbing bulge. he's content to doze like that but expect to feel him humping into your fist while he sleeps. you may wake to the sound of sheets rustling as he licks up the mess he made, much too tired to change sheets but not wanting it to dry and soil your sheets

he insists on placing his hand firmly on the back of your neck whenever he takes you from behind - to stop you from fucking yourself back on his cock and squirming at his pace

after sex with mikey, it's a common occurrence for you both to be a panting mess on the floor when he's done, your throat sore from mindless babbling and loud moans - all complete with a wet, drool-covered spot on your shirt from his grunts through gritted, gnashed teeth. when he's floated back into the right headspace, he's absolutely mortified by his behaviour and is tentative to even glance at you in a less than innocent way for the next couple hours

if your soft body goes limp in his arms after a mind-blowing orgasm, he gets scared at first and stops his thrusts. he's worrying he hurt you but, once he realises you're alright, he'll support your head and neck and go completely feral, thrusting and grinding until he reaches his high as well

whenever you fall asleep ontop of him, he needs to have your face tucked into the crook of his neck - the scent of your hair and sex in the air lulls him to sleep quicker than any sedative could

he adores your attention while you both bask in your respective afterglows - your hands gently cradling his face while he tucks himself away is one of his favourite, most soothing actions of yours. he'll always rub circles into your skin in return

_ _ _ _ _

amab hcs

michael is inexperienced and completely driven by instinct when it comes to giving head - he wouldn't be deep-throating, instead focusing on your tip and licking along your veins. he's a master of giving handjobs, with the amount of spit he shamelessly coats you with (not to mention his rougher hands)

if he's particularly needy, he'll come up behind you and gently undo your belt while tracing his fingers over your zipper, nosing at your jaw and softly rutting into your ass while panting above you

the moment your fly is undone, his breathing gets ragged and drool nearly starts dripping down his chin

cages you against a bench or wall to rut against your ass and breathe in your scent after a long day at work

if you introduce him to rimming,, lord save your soul. his scruff rubs your ass raw with how often he goes to town on your tight, puckered hole. his favourite bit is pulling back and admiring how you glint in the light with his spit shining all over

of course, the extra spit only helps his efforts of bullying his throbbing cock into your poor hole

whenever michael is close to the edge while buried deep in you, he starts uncontrollably twitching and bumping your prostate, causing you to let out a pitchy whine at the unexpected feeling. every time without a doubt, his eyes roll back and growls into your ear at you clenching around him

he has a small photo shrine of your cocks together, a mess of cum and spit framed for his appreciation (he's a romantic)

his dirty fantasy is getting your attention while you're on the phone in bed by mouthing and groping at your cock, working you through the fabric of your pants

michael is obsessed with rutting his cock against yours, covering each other in your arousals, cum spurting up onto your chests as you nip and kiss at each other's chest and throat

_ _ _ _ _

afab hcs

mikey loses his mind a little each time you cream on his shaft, feeling your arousal dripping down to his balls and coating the insides of his thighs. just the thought of your slick coating him is enough to make his eyes roll back

he rips or cuts your underwear off you if he's too impatient to wait for you to fully undress

once michael is fully stuffed inside you, he gently traces where you meet, in awe of how he manages to fit in your heat

his large hands span over the bulge of his cock in your tummy, making you tear up at the pressure and drip onto the sheets

leans his head closer to your ear just to make sure you hear his groans and grunts while he destroys your pussy

his favourite sight is his pearly globs of cum oozing out of your puffy, soaked hole - made complete by the fucked out glaze in your eyes as you stare at the blurry spectre of a giant between your thighs

he tentatively gropes your thighs and enjoys warming his hands by sticking them up your shirt. if you both happen to make an appearance in public, expect him to crowd around you to try and shield you form from wandering eyes - he may be yours but you're also his, so no one has a right to touch or even look at your precious body (especially not your soft tits or ass, they're for him only)

teach him to tie his hair in a messy bun or acquire a hairband for him to keep his hair from getting sticky whenever he does down on you, slurping and worshipping your pussy like it's his god-given purpose on this earth

once he tries taking you in a mating press, he accidentally discovers heaven. he can fully dwarf you in his shadow and also cradle your pretty face while erratically thrusting and groaning in that raspy voice you love. if he fucks you dumb, he's more than happy to wipe away your tears

sometimes michael hesitates pushing into you for fear of it hurting too much, unintentionally resulting in him working you up by teasing your entrance with his thick cockhead then nudging your clit, fully soaking his length in your arousal

_ _ _ _ _

ftm hcs

mikey initially gets scared if you administer hrt yourself with a needle - he knows what happens to rowdy patients who get the needle back at the asylum. however, as he slowly notices physical changes in your body, he'll marvel at your form developing before his very eyes

michael's sadistic side comes out when he spanks your cock until your sloppy boycunt is drooling onto the mattress. he makes sure to gently slip his finger in your hole every so often, his delight in your whines is very evident when you can feel him throbbing under you

his strong forearms easily hold down your hips to stop them from rutting into his mouth whenever he sucks you off, making you shiver with every thrust of his tongue. his dick is neglected while he goes to town, not that mikey minds at all. he knows he'll be able to go balls deep after you've cum at least once to loosen up for him

due to his strength, he'll keep you still even while you become overstimulated, the pleasure bordering on pain but he's too far gone to care - this man becomes so pussydrunk that he can barely process that he's stained all of the material in your immediate vicinity with your arousal; your pants, his shirt, the carpet and not to mention the couch or bedsheets from his erratic wiping of his fingers when they get too slippery

loves to have you bouncing on his cock - grabbing your hips until they're bruised to control the pace and depth, pushing you to take all of him inside

sometimes if you look extra delectable while attempting to reach something off of a high shelf, michael may not be able to control himself and his craving for your taste - he will bend you over with no hesitation and make out with your cunt, nose glistening in your folds as his chapped lips graze against your tdick and his chin dripping with your pre. his massive hands groping your ass as he spreads your legs for better access

the rhythmic clapping of his heavy balls slapping your sopping cock is forever engrained in his mind, sometimes resurfacing at the most inconvenient times - he will be forced to rush home in the middle of an attempted spree just to feel your body against his

_ _ _ _ _

mtf hcs

michael chases the sensation of having you pressed up against him while you're wearing clothing he's gotten you

he loves you feeling pretty whenever you're on top, tucking your hair behind your ear and using his thumb to swipe his cum off your chin

he will make you do your makeup before you fuck, needing you to feel as beautiful as possible while he absolutely destroys your hole - lipgloss smeared, mascara running, hair mussed and bruises all over your hips. he views you as a goddess, so expect him to make you feel like one

when you guide him to take your balls in his mouth, he'll eagerly suckle on them then return to your tip for his reward, eager to lap up your arousal with obscene slurping noises and proud huffs of satisfaction

he has a small shrine of your panties he's borrowed, keeping the ones with the dainty floral details for 'creative inspiration'

mikey gently squeezes on the back of your neck when preparing to take you from behind - he cannot simply cum from you squirming in impatience and grinding into him, he's not even inside you yet (it would be a waste quite frankly)

as his stubble rubs you raw whenever he eats you out, prepare for the bubbling heat beneath your skin to return tenfold whenever he fucks your thighs like a madman

_ _ _ _ _

sorry if writing quality dropped, this took so long lmao. art the clown is next btw, look out for that.

thanks for reading. lmk if you liked it. if i got anything wrong, don't hesitate to tell me.

stay safe.

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sunandflame · 9 days ago

Note

Please do a Rob Lucci x Pregnant reader. What kind of father would he be?

Full of Me

Rob Lucci never expected fatherhood to change him, but the moment he felt the life growing inside you, something primal shifted — and the man who once instilled fear in others now found himself fiercely protective of what was his.

Warnings: nsfw, smut, pregnancy kink, intimacy during pregnancy, mild possessiveness

Word Count: 1382

Pairing: Rob Lucci x Pregnant!Reader

a/n: could be seen as the continuation of 'a quiet hunger'

crossposted on AO3

You weren’t sure exactly when the change happened.

Maybe it was the day you told him.

You had rehearsed it so many times. Imagined his reaction, his silence, your fear. How he would process the fact that you were carrying his child. Rob Lucci — the World Government’s silent executioner, a man more feared than loved — was now bound to something so fragile, so human.

But when you had finally said the words, heart pounding and throat tight, he only looked at you with unreadable eyes. His silence stretched so long it made your lungs feel tight. And then—

“You’re certain?” His voice was low. Careful.

You nodded, and his gaze dropped, briefly, to your stomach — the smallest of bumps then, just beginning to show.

You expected tension. Dismissal. Maybe even anger.

But instead, he stepped forward, slow and deliberate, and gently—so gently—placed his hand over your lower abdomen. Not saying a word. Just feeling.

And that was it.

No declarations. No promises. Just instinct. Just presence.

Now, months later, you noticed the changes in him more easily.

He didn’t speak about it. Not directly. But you saw it in how he hovered closer to you than before. How his movements were slower, more deliberate, whenever he was near you. How his eyes drifted toward your belly more often—especially when you were resting. Like he didn’t quite trust the world not to hurt you. Like he didn’t trust himself not to be too much.

The first time he felt the baby kick, he flinched.

You watched him as his brows furrowed ever so slightly, as if confused that something so small could move with such force.

“...They're strong,” he murmured, resting a palm across your stomach. The way his thumb brushed small circles there—protective, tentative—nearly brought tears to your eyes.

He didn't know softness. But with you…with this? He tried.

Lucci wasn’t a man made for fatherhood. Not by anyone’s expectations. Not by the life he had led.

But somehow… it suited him.

He never said it, but you could feel the shift in the air. He would come home earlier when he could. He brought back things he would never admit were for the baby—blankets with tiny pawprints, soft booties you were certain weren’t standard issue. Once, you caught him lingering over a baby book you had left on the table, flipping the pages as if studying.

You didn’t point it out. You didn’t need to.

And then, one night, after you’d fallen asleep curled beside him, you woke to the feel of something heavy and warm against your side.

It was Lucci’s hand. Large, scarred, and resting carefully over your swollen belly.

You didn’t move. Just listened.

“I won’t let anything touch you,” he whispered, barely audible in the dark.

You knew he wasn’t just talking to the child.

It had been a long day. One of the rare days he’d stayed home.

You stood by the open window, the moonlight casting a silver sheen over your bare skin, hands cupped beneath the round swell of your belly. Lucci had been watching you from the edge of the bed—silent, unmoving—but you could feel the weight of his gaze like a touch.

His voice came low, steady behind you. "You’re beautiful like this."

You turned, heart thudding at the way he said it—not just in the words themselves, but the way he said them. Like it surprised him. Like the sight of you, heavy with his child, stirred something primal in him he wasn’t quite used to feeling.

When he approached, it was slow and deliberate. Lucci always moved like a predator, but tonight, there was something more contained in him. As if he were holding back. As if the sight of you, full with the life he’d created, did something dangerous to him.

He stopped just in front of you, eyes raking down the soft curve of your breasts, the stretch of your hips, the heavy roundness of your stomach. You saw the way his jaw flexed.

"You still want me like this?" you whispered, almost uncertain.

He didn’t answer with words. Just leaned down and kissed you.

It was different. Slower. Hungrier. A deep, unspoken yes that curled through your veins like fire. His hands roamed your body carefully at first, thumbs ghosting the underside of your breasts, down your sides, pausing over your belly with reverent pressure.

When he lifted you into his arms, it was effortless. And when he laid you on your side in bed, curling his body around yours protectively, you felt the tension roll off his shoulders—not fear, but something else. Something more ancient.

He was hard against your thigh already, thick and pulsing.

You guided him in with a small gasp, feeling how careful he was despite the burn of how deep he filled you. His hands cradled your belly from behind as he slid in fully, breath catching low in his throat. He stilled. Shuddered.

"You're… full of me," he murmured, voice rough, unsteady in a way that made your toes curl. "I can feel them. In you. While I’m inside you."

You whimpered. The way he said it—almost reverent, almost undone—made your whole body tremble.

He started to move, slow and deep. Not pounding. Not rough. But claiming. Each stroke was deliberate, angled, grinding into the spot that made you arch. His lips brushed your shoulder as he whispered, "I put life in you. And your body still begs for more."

His breathing grew heavier. You could feel his restraint, the primal urge pacing inside him like a caged animal. "Tell me if I hurt you."

"You won’t."

"You have to tell me." His voice was sharper, but not cold. More like he was fighting something inside himself.

"I trust you," you whispered, reaching back to cradle the side of his face.

Something about those words broke him open.

Lucci groaned into your neck, thrusting harder now—but still measured, still tuned to the shape of you. One of his hands slid down to cup your thigh, hiking your leg up to take him deeper.

"You don’t understand what this does to me,” he rasped, thrusting again—slow, hard, claiming. “Seeing you like this. Full of me. Heavy with me.”

You moaned, fingers curling in the sheets as your body clenched around him. He felt it, the way you gripped him tight, and it nearly undid him.

He fucked you through it, breathing ragged against your skin, until your orgasm took you with a sharp cry muffled into the pillow.

He was shaking by the time he came. Not from effort—Lucci didn’t strain—but from the intensity of it. His hips pressed deep, burying himself as far as you could take him, as if he wanted to feel his seed fill you all over again. His mouth was open against your neck, breath hot and stuttering.

He stayed inside you long after, hand spread across your belly protectively, possessively.

“You’re mine,” he said softly, reverently, with no one to hear it but the child growing within you. “Both of you.”

So what kind of father would Rob Lucci be?

A protective one. Viscerally so.

The kind who doesn’t cradle in public, but whose eyes scan every room before you walk in. The kind who doesn’t speak in sweet nothings but holds your hand tighter when you’re tired. The kind who doesn’t call himself a father, but who jolts upright the moment he hears a cry in the night and reaches the crib before you do.

He’d be terrifying to others—but safe to his own.

And for your child?

He would teach them silence and precision. But also patience. He’d be stern but not cruel. And when they grew old enough to climb onto his lap, to tug at his hair, or pull at the collar of his coat—

He would let them.

He would hold them as long as they wanted. He’d bear their weight in full Zoan form if it meant keeping them amused. He’d carry them on his shoulders without a word, letting their tiny hands clutch his ears.

He would scowl at anyone who stared too long.

And when they asked him one day, “Papa, were you scary before me?”

He would pause.

And say, with complete honesty: “Yes. But not anymore.”

Tagging my gurl @auryborealis because we both crazy for him.

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magicalbunbun · 1 year ago

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my BIG BROTHER myers

They are outside before michael could walk inside and kill anyone.

Mike is embarrassed 😳

#michael myers #myers #halloween #rob zombie #myers family #slasher #slasher x reader #slasher x you #slasher x y/n #slashers x y/n #slashers x you #slashers x reader #slashers #rob zombie michael myers #rz michael myers #michael myers x reader #michael myers x you #olderbrother reader

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6lostgirl6 · 2 years ago

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A Night To Dismember

Pairing: Michael Myers x Fem!Reader

TW: Detailed Gore, Mentions of Murder, Mentions of Sexual Assault [Not by Michael], Slightly Possessive Michael, Protective Michael, Mature Audience only!

A/N: Requested by my bestie @prettywhenibleed! I really hope you enjoy this and it was an absolute pleasure to write this for you!! Love you, my favorite slasher whore! ❤️ This isn't my best work, I'm afraid, forgive me.

The Smith's Grove Sanitarium operated according to a schedule that was consistently set in motion without interruption. No authorized doctor employed by the sanitarium, however, would have foreseen this. Medical specialists thought they were completely familiar with Michael Myers' behavior. He was docile and kept to himself, despite being the most dangerous and threatening patient in the hospital.

But if you left him alone, there was a chance he would treat you in a similar fashion. The sole exception would be if touching his masks or otherwise bothered him. Even being among other patients was something he never enjoyed.

You were a new patient, recently exiled from society and your family because of your dreadful infatuation with fire and burning objects of interest. Your arrival left the building in absolute shock. On your first day, you were assigned to the recreation room. When you entered the room, your initial instinct was to walk over to the largest and most dangerous man within the sanatorium while grinning brightly. You only watched him work on a paper mache mask while standing over his hunched figure in the corner of the room, his hospital-approved supplies scattered along the table.

You thought the colors were stunning, which you happily expressed.

As a precaution against Michael harming you, guards stood by the recreation room's entrance wielding batons. Michael, on the other hand, did the exact opposite, giving you a cursory glance before grunting and slackly pointing for you to sit next to him.

It was like you and Michael had your own timetable inside the sanitarium, and this went on for the next few months without fail. As directed by his psychiatrist, Michael was permitted to create his masks in the recreation area in the mornings. You would follow not far behind and take your normal seat beside him at a table chosen at random, apart from the other patients. You would merely watch him create his masks and ramble about whatever was on your mind. Michael never responded to the conversation, but that didn't stop you from talking to him because he had his own style of doing so without words. You have grown accustomed to deciphering his thoughts from his basic grunts and gestures.

"Hey, Mikey." You said with a smile, taking a seat at your usual spot next to Michael's side, placing your tray of food onto the table.

Michael was in the middle of placing wet paper mache on the face mold for his mask, his fingers caked in colors of paint and residue from the paper mache. He paused for a moment, giving you a small grunt as acknowledgement before returning to his activity.

You smiled more, chuckling at his usual ways of communicating as you watched him craft. You've always been interested in his masks and the variety of patterns he would use for each one. Many of his masks had their own unique qualities. However, you knew to only look, not touch.

"I see you're adding bright colors this time; are those happy pills finally working?" You teased him, nudging him softly with your body.

Michael huffed through his nose, which you learned was his way of chuckling as he shook his head at you. In the past, It took a while, but you had a better understanding of Michael's gestures and emotions than the doctors.

Simply because you treated him like a person, not an experiment.

"Maybe next time then." You replied, turning towards your tray before glancing at his project once more. "You're really good at that, Mikey. You're really talented."

Once again, Michael paused his movements, his stained fingers holding the paper mache while his eyes remained downcast. His fingers twitched before he resumed, and you almost thought you said something wrong.

"I didn't mean-"

You were cut off as Michael grabbed another mold from the table, pushing it in your direction. Your eyes widened slightly as you pushed your tray out of the way as Michael's slow movements brought other materials in your direction.

Still in slight awe, you watched him turn towards you, and your eyes connected through his favorite orange mask. You couldn't help the way your heart skipped a beat at the way his eyes stared into your own, seemingly piercing into your own soul.

The doctors were wrong; his eyes weren't soulless, nor were they black, resembling a massive void of nothingness. They were blue, similar to a clear sky or the glimmering waves of the ocean.

He huffed before pointing a finger at the materials and then towards you. He wanted you to mold with him.

"Thank you, Mikey." You said softly, a bright smile on your face.

When your eyes met Michael's, he was unable to comprehend the sensation in his chest. Usually, when his sight fell on their figures, individuals would tremble or turn away. He wasn't concerned by their fear of the facility's most dangerous patient. He actually benefited from the fear he instilled in the hearts of many who came to the sanitarium.

Yet you didn't...and he liked that.

He liked that you weren't scared of him, speaking to him, or even touching him like you've been these past few months. The thought of you being scared of him made him feel...hollow.

When you started working on your own mask using the materials that were laid out on the table, Michael couldn't help but covertly place a palm on his chest to feel how his heart was refusing to settle down. He almost wanted to groan in annoyance, hating the way he liked being around you and having your attention.

He had been content with his solitude for a long time, He preferred being alone and had been for many years. However, the notion of you leaving him made the murderous itch inside him threaten to resurface.

He decided that he would keep you with him, protect you with everything he has, and extinguish anyone who threatened to ruin that. With darkened eyes, he returned to working on his mask.

On that day, you and Michael became closer.

You weren't born yesterday and you certainly weren't born stupid. Trouble was afoot in the institution and it was either happening under the doctors' noses or they simply didn't care enough to investigate. Over the past week, you would hear feminine screams down the hallway in the women's section of the institution during the late hours of the night. Last night, the screams could be heard two doors down from your room.

The screams and cries began when a new guard was appointed to the institution, supposedly replacing a well-known guard who was at the age of retirement. Due to your paranoia, you would sit on the edge of your bed, watching the door in the chance of someone entering your room when they weren't supposed to.

During the days, you would spend all you could with Michael, hoping that your association with him would make you seem off limits to mess with, or you hoped. Yet, Michael couldn't protect you when the sun went down and the men and women would return to their respective cells on opposite sides of the institution.

Tonight, you were following the same routine, sitting on the edge of your bed and watching the door. Your mind was in shambles, trying to come up with a plan in that chance, that horrid chance of the new guard coming for you. You hoped it wasn't what you were thinking, and for once, you prayed.

God never heard your prayers, and he certainly didn't now, especially when the jingling of keys were heading down the hallway, towards your room.

Michael couldn't sleep and when he couldn't sleep, he would simply pass the time by creating more masks or painting designs onto them. He was sitting at his desk, the surface covered in paper mache, markers, paint, and crayons. He was in the middle of adding a touch of red when he heard the distant sound of screaming.

His annoyance was disguised under his mask as he sighed and tightened his grip on the crayon in his hand to the point that it almost broke in half. He puffed again at the commotion and went on, indifferent to the screams. Perhaps a patient was making a scene during the nightly check-ins.

In order to block out the noises, Michael withdrew within the walls of his mind. It was a way that allowed Michael to escape freely from the confinement of his cell. He would always imagine a life outside the institution, with you. He would imagine the way he would protect you and provide for you. The thought used to sicken himn, but now he enjoyed it, the possibility. The sound of keys jingling, seemingly opening his cage, caused him to pause, though. With a loud crash, the cell door swung open, and shouting could now be heard outside of his room.

"Want some, freak?" The guard asked him in an mocking manner while Michael remained at his desk, his back to the guard. Michael immediately understood what the guard was pulling when he heard the feminine screams and intended to ignore it.

He continued to ignore his surroundings, ignoring the rage building within his chest. The sound of his bed creaking didn't deter him from continuing on with his activity. However, it all changed when the victim screamed one word.

"Michael!"

You.

Your trapped figure on his bed, with your nightgown pushed up so that only your thighs were visible, caught Michael's attention as his head whirled around. Your eyes were filled to the brim with tears, which streamed down your cheeks as you sobbed and struggled. His eyes quickly shifted to the guard hovering over you, and he developed tunnel vision instinctively.

A ferocious roar erupts from Michael's mouth and takes hold of the guard by the neck and collar of his shirt, throwing him off balance. In the midst, you shakily brought yourself to a sitting position, fixing the bottom of your nightgown to cover yourself. Your eyes watched as Michael picked up the guard, pinning him to the wall with eerie silence. The man in his grasp was yelling in pain and fear as Michael kept him pinned, his legs dangling in the air.

"L-Let go! Let go, you fucking punk!" The guard cried out.

Michael did not like that, not at all. Without a second thought, Michael hurled him into his desk, his art supplies falling to the ground in a cluster of clangs while the man groaned in pain. Like a predator stalking his prey, Michael's towering form stalked over to the smaller male, his eyes black as night and void of any life or mercy within. His large hand reached out to grab the same red colored pencil,

Michael's next action seemed to be a blur, he body launching onto the guard and stabbing him with the colored pencil, his resiliant strength making the pencil tear through flesh and muscle.

You watched in a sickening twist of fascination and awe, watching as Michael stabbed the guard over and over, leaving no body part untouched, the man;s screams filling the room. Your heart felt warm, knowing that Michael was willing enough to kill someone for you.

Lastly, Michael stabbed him until his chest, stomach, and face was shrouded in punctures, cuts, and wounds. With one last jab, the colored pencil stabbed into his neck, making the man gurgle on his own blood.

"Michael..." You whispered, your eyes taking in his bloodied form as he slowly turned to you, heaving himself up and moving towards you. It was as if he was a trained dog hoping he made his master proud. However, you were nothing of the sort. When he was close enough, you wrapped your arms around him, pressing yourself into his strong form. "Thank you..."

Michael gave a small huff, hesitantly touching your head with his bloody palm, staining your strands with the bodily fluid. Without another word, Michael pushed you away and grabbed your hand, pulling you off the bed and heading towards the door.

"Where we are going?" You asked in confusion, following behind the behemoth of a man down the stark white hallway.

In response, Michael tugged on your hand and you decided to go along with whatever he had in his mind. He saved you after all; even when he didn't have to, he did. It made you feel safe and protected in his presence.

"Alright, Alright." You muttered, your figures turning a corner and out of sight.

Red and white.

Those were the colors you would never forget. The way the walls were coated in blood and bodily fluids of various nurses and guards that laid along the floor in mangled messes.

Michael was strong, very strong. You remembered the way he smashed a guard's skull in with his fingers alone. You shuddered at the thought, crossing your arms and staring at the wall in front of you as you waited for Michael to finish off his last victim. A nurse arriving at the right place at the wrong time as Michael ambushed her, his hands around her throat as he strangled her.

Michael walked over to you, his muffled huffing practically hovering over your ear as he showed you shoes and coat. You stared at the items with a blank expression, wondering what he wanted you to do with these.

He huffed before shaking the items in his hands, motioning the items towards you. You sighed before taking the items with a small smile, throwing on the shoes and coat. You felt the warmth of the fabric soothe your cold figure.

"Thank you..." You muttered softly, looking up at him as he stared down at you.

He couldn't help but think you looked...cute.

He offered you his bloodied hand, which you instantly took and followed him to the exit. You both were finally going to be free and it was all thanks to him.

After a few hours of walking, your feet were beginning to ache and the adrenaline from earlier was wearing off.

After your fifth yawn, Michael stopped in his tracks, turning towards you in the middle of the field. He simply stared at you as you bent forward to rest your hands on your knees.

Michael, I need to rest for a moment. Please my-" Your words were cut off when Michael stormed over to you, grabbing you roughly around the hips, hoisting you into his arms. His arm went around your waist, while the other held your back in a bridal style fashion.

Your eyes widened from his sudden roughness, however you couldn't complain as you basked in his warmth, nuzzling your face in the bloodied fabric of his robe.

"Thank you." You said, closing your eyes and allowing yourself to finally relax for the first time tonight. You didn't notice the way Michael was staring at you in his arms, his darkened eyes filled with something unknown, dangerous...maybe even a little bit of caring.

Silently, he turned and resumed walking through the field, making sure to keep you safe as you began to doze in his arms.

Finally, you were his.

Spam Liking W/O Reblogging = Blocked

Tagging: Comment to be added!!

@prettywhenibleed @ghoulgeousimmaculate @britany1997 @rottent33th @slaasherslut @bluecoolr @the-pinstriped-hood @flower-crowned-lady @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @azzy-ozborn @strrvnge @repostingmyfavs

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multi-fandom-imagine · 29 days ago

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For the Wolf’s Victory || Robb Stark ||

After the failed Frey-Bolton ambush. Carnage still fresh. His sword still warm. He returns to you under the cloak of night—bloody, breathing hard, eyes wild—and the moment your eyes meet, he’s already undoing his belt

A/n: The Red Wedding never happened, Cause fuck that.

It started out as a whisper, a comment he wasn't supposed to hear.

Death.

His men slaughtered

Grey Wind.Dead.

His mother...throat slit

And you, his gem. The one light in his life snuffed out like a candle.

Robb could barely contain the rage that simmered through him and when the moment was right he struck.

And he did not leave one Bolton or Frey alive and while is soldiers celebrate, while his mother rests he will take you and make you his in every way.

Robb made his way towards your tent, his tent. The one furthest away from everyone. He wasn't thinking, only one thing on his mind.

You

The tent flap opened, your head snapped up to meet your husband's gaze. The man was covered in blood as you stood.

“Robb—?”

He crosses the room in two strides.

One bloody hand wraps around your waist. The other grips the back of your neck. And he kisses you like a man starved, blood staining your dress.

“No one touches what’s mine,” he growls into your mouth, his eyes slipping closed as he presses his nose into your neck inhaling your sweet scent.

His hands are shaking with adrenaline as they tear at your laces. “They tried. They fucking tried. To take everything.”

Fabric ripping, breasts freeing as he then pulls you in for another kiss as you moaned as Robb bites at your jaw, only to pull you in for another bruising kiss as you felt the iron tang of blood on his lips.

“But I found out. And I burned them for it.”

Your torn dress falls to the floor. You’re breathless, naked beneath him. He’s still half-armored, still wearing the blood of traitors—but his hands are reverent on your skin.

“I killed them for you,” he says, voice low and shaking with fury and want. “For us.”

And then he lifts you, hauls you to the bed, and throws you down onto the furs. Your legs parting, a deep heat pooling at your center as Robb watches you.

He doesn’t undress...not right now. Not with how desperately he needs you.

He just frees his cock, already hard, already leaking.

And you open for him, legs parted, eager, wet, desperate for your husband, your warrior, your wolf.

He slams into you in one stroke—deep, brutal, and claiming—and you cry out, legs wrapping around his waist, hands clawing at his chestplate only for them to slide down slicked with blood.

“Robb—!”

“Say you’re mine,” he snarls, fucking into you hard, hips snapping with barely-restrained violence.

“I’m yours—gods—I’m yours—”

He grunts, slamming deeper. “Say it again.”

You do. Over and over. Each time more breathless, more raw, as he pounds into your cunt like he’s trying to fuck the memory of betrayal out of his own mind.

His blood-slick hands grip your thighs. His mouth crashes to yours. His whole body trembles as he drives deeper—rougher—until he’s gritting through his teeth. Dark curls slicked with sweat and blood as he kept his gaze on you, on the way your breasts bounced with each thrust.

“I should’ve died today.”

“But you didn’t,” you whisper, kissing his jaw, his lips, his scars. “You came back. To me..My wolf...My King.”

He thrusts once—twice—and buries himself to the hilt, groaning as he spills deep inside you, his cock pulsing, flooding you with hot, triumphant release.

You both collapse, tangled in sweat, blood, and sheets.

He doesn’t pull out.

He holds you close. Breathes you in.

And in the silence after his storm, he whispers:

“You’re the reason I survived.”

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cosmosluckycharms · 2 months ago

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hobie and spider!reader

goodnight

#platonic btw #spider bat!reader #astv hobie #hobie x reader #atsv hobie #spider punk #hobie x y/n #bug like angel #spider reader #i keep forgetting that reader is a rich girl #like yes queen keep robbing those 7/11's

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boypied · 3 months ago

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submissive!mac loves when his boyfriend becomes the ultimate power bottom. He always tries his best to hide it from everyone as he wants to come across as the tough macho man he plays himself to be, but when you're both alone together he can't help but love when you're in control.

You make sure he never has a condom on, Mac gets super hard knowing that you're both fully in contact. He's never really fucked with condoms anyway. submissive!mac 's body jolts and pulsates in agonising pleasure as you constantly ride him in a fast, rough pace.

He will never admit this to his friends, but he loves having his hands restrained; handcuffs, rope, duct tape, whatever can restrain his hands he will have you use on him. Another thing that submissive!mac loves all too much is the "cowgirl" position... or at least in your case; "cowboy".

Even though submissive!mac loves feeling his slightly more dominant boyfriend ride him like there is no tomorrow, that doesn't stop Mac from having sudden surges of dominance. He can have your eyes rolled back, slobbering and speaking a completely different language as he pounds away at you.

It took Mac a long time to come to terms with his sexuality because of his upbringing, but the moment that he met you, he knew that you were the one for him. submissive!mac loves you with all of his heart, even though he struggles to show it on occasion when he becomes anxious when he hears hatred tones or bigoted language.

#mac mcdonald #mac mcdonald x male reader #rob mcelhenney #rob mcelhenney x male reader #its always sunny in philadelphia #iasip #iasip x male reader #iasip mac x male reader #gay #x male reader #fanfic #x male y/n #male reader #boypied

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bigball-thefrog · 3 months ago

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It's Just For The Mission, Right?: Rob Lucci X Reader

______________________________

Poll

Alright we are back with the second short story of my Lucci Poll. And I am so glad this one was saved for last. Why? You may ask. Because I am happy to announce, that this post, is...

SMUT!

Yes, you heard me, dirty, filthy smut! And it may not be my longest fic, but I do think that this is the best smut I've done yet! So please enjoy, and I shall now give the warnings below.

Warnings/Tags:

Gender neutral reader with female genitals

Lucci and Reader in a fake relationship

Vaginally oral

Vaginally sex

Unprotected sex

Lucci goes feral and uses his Devilfruit

Idk if Zoan users count as monster fucking

User gets scratched and bitten

Overstimulation

Backshots

Dictionary/Measurements:

Cunnilingus is an oral sex act consisting of the stimulation of a vulva by using the tongue and lips.

7,5 inches = 19.05 centimeters

8 inches = 20.32 centimeters

2,5 inches = 6.35 centimeters

______________________________

It was about a year after Lucci and the rest of CP9 had settled into their fake lives in Water Seven. While everyone each had different roles that helped the mission. Your role... Was unique, because your role was to pretend to be Lucci's stay-at-home girlfriend. You basically mingled amongst the people to find out any information about the island. It was simple, cleaning, shopping, chatting, it was rather nice and you almost could forget you were undercover.

The only weird thing was when Lucci had days off from the Galley-La Company, he'd spend those days with you, pretending to be a good boyfriend. Lucci hated having to be in a fake relationship with you, which led to Lucci did the bare minimum to make it look real, you'd barely go on dates, and only small dinner dates, you were lucky to get a kiss on the cheek, otherwise it was just hand holding, it made you seem like an awkward almost forced couple rather than a real one, but it was fine, everyone beloved it so you kept doing it the same way.

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

Kaku had thrown a house party for the members of Galley-La and their spouces. You and Lucci had arrived and were acting as usual, Lucci stayed quiet with his hand awkwardly holding yours and you would talk to everyone about everything while dragging him along. You were talking to some random person that Lucci knew from work, who already seemed drunk and wouldn't leave you two alone, commenting about your relationship and just how "conservative" you two seem as a couple. "I mean, are you two really even a couple? I bet you two haven't even fucked yet!" The man howled with laughter before going back to drinking. For some reason, Lucci's grip on you became tighter and he seemed more tense. For the first time that night, he let go of you and went to go talk to someone else. He left to a different room with Kaku to talk for a bit and when they came back, Kaku pointed to a room and winked at Lucci before going back to mingle, Lucci just stared at you, giving you a look that just said, "Come now" you followed him into the room, and it's when he closed the door you realized that Hattori wasn't on his shoulder, which almost never happened, something must be wrong. Then, also surprisingly, Lucci spoke, using his real voice for the first time in a year, "We need to talk about our 'relationship'." You sighed, "Lucci if it's about hat guys comment, it's alright, there's plenty of couples that don't have a sex life and are doing great! We don't have to-" "They're starting to get suspicious of us, we act like we don't even want to be together, they're gonna start asking questions soon, and if they find out we're spies, the world government would have our heads." He was right, you both were forced to pretend to be in a relationship when you didn't want to, and it showed. And you know you'd be in trouble if anyone found out, "So what do we do?" you asked, trying to come up with ideas, Lucci looked down and clenched his fist, "I think... We're going to have to... Have sex..." Your eyes widened, have sex? With your teammate? Just so people would belive you two were in love? It was a sured. "Lucci, I'm not so sure about that..." "What else would you suggest, huh? You and I can't act like a loving couple to save our lives, and getting married would be too far! But if we have sex, and we do it loud enough, then they'll hear us and they'll think that we're in love."

You looked away, still hesitant about the idea, so Lucci took your chin in his hand and made you look at him, "Hey, this is just for the mission. And you don't want to fail the mission, do you?" "No" "The you'll do anything for the mission to be successful, right?" "Yeah, anything... Yeah, this will just be a no strings attached thing, just for the mission." Lucci smirked and let go of your face, "There we go... Now strip down and get naked, the faster we start the faster we finish." You nodded, stripping yourself down while Lucci did the same, only stopping at his pants and just leaving his chest out. He pushed you o sit down on the edge of the bed and knelt down in between your bare legs, "What are you doing?" you questioned. "I must get you aroused, and the fastest way I can think of doing it is with Cunnilingus. So I can stimulate you into producing arousal fluid, so it's easier for me to slide in and for it to hurt less. So just sit back and let me work." You nodded, leaning back and gripping the sheets in anticipation. Lucci pried your legs open and wasted no time in burying his face between your legs and attaching his mouth to your clit. You gasp and shuddered, the feeling already making you warm. With a lick through your folds, Lucci began eagerly sucking you clit, sending waves of shock and pleasure through your body. With his tongue darting our every so often to lap up your leaking juices, Lucci inserted two fingers and began thrusting them in and out, hoping to make you climax faster. And it did, you squirmed and shake, a knot forming in your stomach and growing rapidly. When your orgasm finally came crashing down on you, you clenched your legs together, squishing Lucci's fave between your thighs as you rode out your orgasm on his face. After calming down, you unwrapped your thighs from Lucci's head and fell back, lean in on your elbows. Lucic let out a gasp of breath after being released from your thighs. He wiped your fluids from his face and looked down it in his hand, before licking it clean. With a predatory smirk, Lucci stood up an and spoke, "You're ready~"

Lucci stood in front of you as he began undoing his pants. Both pants and boxers falling to the ground, you were met with his full glory, 7.5 inches long and 2.5 inches wide, Lucci was packing and he carried it well. He took ahold of his length, giving it a few pumps to bring it to life, his now erect penis pushing 8 inches. He walked over to you on the bed, a new, almost primal look I his eyes. He said nothing and just flipped you over so you were laying on your stomach. He climbed onto the bed, sitting behind you. He pressed his tip right at your dripping folds. He carefully pushed his tip inside and stopped, he let go of his cock and adjusted his position so his hands were on either sides of your hips. With a shuddering sigh, Lucci spoke once more, "Are you ready?" also with a shuddering sigh, you nodded.

Lucci once again wasted no time and pushed all the way in without stopping. You let out a scream of both pleasure and pain as he burried himself to the base. Barely giving you time to adjust Lucci began moving, thrusting at a pace that wasn't slow, but wasn't fast either. You gripped the sheets again the pleasure starting to overtake the feeling of pain. Lucci grabbed one of your hips to steady himself as he kept the same pace. His fingers dig into your soft flesh as he let out a deep possessive growl as he thrusted particularly hard before going back to his normal pace. You could feel your second orgasm building again, this one feeling bigger than the last. You clenched around his dick as your orgasm came crashing down, more powerful and more pleasurable than before. Lucci stopped as he felt you clench and climax around his dick, the pleasure affecting him too. He threw his head back and moaned, but he didn't cum, he just froze as he felt you ride out your climax and squeeze and coat his dick. As if something in him snapped, once your climax stopped, he lifted his head up to look at you again, his eyes dilated and now showing an inner primal feeling that broke free. He gripped your hip painfully and began thrusting again, but each second he went faster and you felt him grow.. Bigger? Looking behind you, you see Lucci had used his Devilfruit and had gone full leopard, just to fuck you. A growing feeling of pain and overstimulating started to affect you, causing you to scream and whimper more, but the feeling of pleasure still outnumbered all. Lucci let go of your hip and fell on top of you, squishing you under this weight, grunting and growling as he fucked you like a wild animal. Lucci gripped the sheets and sank his sharp teeth into your shoulder as he fucked you hard and fast, forgetting about his previous agreement and just focusing on his pleasure. Your third orgasm was coming fast, and you could feel Lucci was coming too. With another hard crash of pleasure, you screamed out Lucci's name and clenched around his duck again and coating it in another layer of your juices. This sent Lucci over the edge as he let go of you, sat up, and thrusted a few more times before pulling out and cumming all over your back.

Lucci fell back onto his elbows and transformed back into a human, as he caught his breath and looked at the sight of you, all fucked out, when suddenly and the door burst open with Paulie barging inside, "What the fuck is going on I'm here?!" he shouted before freezing, his cigar dropping to the floor. The sight of Lucci, naked and his softening penis dripping with the last of his cum and you, also naked with cum splattered on your back made him turn red. He quickly looked away before shouting again, "L-lock the door next time!! A-and put some clothes on, you're too exposed!!!" he quickly left, leaving you two alone again. Lucci smirked and let out a 'hmph' before getting up and putting his clothes back on. "I'll go grab a towel and some bandages for the claw and teeth marks." He stated before heading to the door, "Oh, and don't expect this to be a one time thing, we still need to keep up this reputation until the mission is over, got it?" you nodded. He turned to open the door when you spoke again, "And this is, still onlt for the mission, right?" "Of course it's only for the mission, nothing else." He stated and left. But you both knew that deep down, that this wasn't for the mission anymore...

______________________________

Sorry this took long, I'm not used to writing smut and I'm always just scared I'm gonna get caught😭 But I hope you enjoy this and I'll start with the ideas from the Crocodile poll hopefully soon. Bye bye 👋

Kelly🐸

#one piece #oneshot #one piece anime #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #one piece x you #rob lucci #rob lucci one piece #one piece rob lucci #rob lucci x reader #lucci #lucci one piece #one piece lucci #op lucci #lucci x reader #one piece smut #rob lucci smut #lucci smut #op smut

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moonydustx · 10 months ago

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another day, another thought (a smutty one)

(Sorry for mistakes, this has been drafted for so long that I confess I didn't pay attention to proofreading)

(I added jujutsu kaisen characters because I'm still obsessed, let me know if you'd prefer me to separate the content)

You were the most precious thing to him.

You were a comfort on stressful days, a breath of air every time the sea seemed to pull him under. The way you loved each other was no different. Slow thrusts, hands sliding down your body, sweet praises sang in your ear every time you felt him deeper inside you. You are like a goddess on top of him, riding him and allowing your hands to trace delicious patterns over his skin.

"You're so good, so beautiful. I could stay here all day."

"Do you have one more for me? Please, babe, just give me one more."

"Open that pretty mouth… That's it, nice and slow. You fucking love it, don't you?"

Sometimes they thought about what it would be like to ruin you, what it would be like to see your red ass slapped, tears falling from your eyes as he fucked you.

But after filling you, the way your eyes seemed lost, your body panting and a simple touch seemed to take you to ecstasy. Damn, that was already too much. You were already too much.

Killer, Katakuri, Mihawk (hear me out all goth aside, he's sweet), Sanji, Kaku, Rayleigh, Ace, Usopp (OP), Nanami, Higuruma, Choso (JJK)

You were his girl.

Hand in hand through the streets, two companions for any situation, two fearless souls ready to do anything. You were his fearless girl, except when you were alone. Alone you were his whore he dominated you and you didn't bother to complain. Asking for more and more as he left you hanging on the edge. Tears down your face as he thrust hard, your legs hanging against his shoulders as you could barely breathe.

"You can take it like a good girl, huh? Or you'd rather be a little whore. My little whore of my own."

"I want to see you make a mess, cum for me."

The sound of the slaps on your ass echoed, yet on all fours towards him you tried to seek even more contact. It didn't take long for your honey to spread all over the bed and your legs to weaken. Feeling him cum inside you, his body soon appeared on your back.

"Such a good girl. You did very well sweetheart."

Crocodile (he is the owner of this category), Smoker, Rob Lucci, Kid, Bartolomeo, Paulie (OP), Toji (JJK)

You were the apple of his eye.

For anyone looking, it was difficult to understand the relationship between the two of you. You were always in places together, but it was difficult to decide if you actually had something. But you had, at least between the two of you. There were times when, after a difficult night, you ended up in each other's beds. Sometimes just looking for a slower pace, for deep thrusts filled with wet kisses. Other times, the two of you were just after each other's orgasms. The noise of his skin against yours echoed, your hair was pulled and you moaned without worrying about who might hear.

"I missed you so much, I won't let you get out of this bed."

"Hold it a little. That pussy squeezing me, fuck… I need to cum with you. Hold it a little, can you hold it a little? I want to feel you cum with me."

Sometimes it was missing each other, sometimes it was stress, sometimes it was jealousy. There would always be an excuse, a feeling and a desire that would drag you to their bed.

"Can you stay here for the night? I'm not done with you yet."

"You're going to leave me full of hickeys." "At least that idiot friend of yours will know you have an owner." "Owner?" "You still don't understand, do you?"

Law, Zoro, Shanks, Franky, Luffy, Sabo (most of the time he goes into crazy sex mode) (OP), Gojo, Geto (JJK)

oh my god so many tags sorry

a/n: Would you add anyone else? Let me know!

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hannahbarberra162 · 11 days ago

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Il Gattopardo (Rob Lucci X Reader, OS, dubcon, Mafia AU)

18+ MDNI | on Ao3

I got a few asks about the pussycat himself, Rob Lucci. I myself have seen the light and have added him to my roster. Here, for you Lucci-nonnies, is a Mafia AU for Lucci. It's dub con but he's not really all that bad (for Rob Lucci)

I’m trying out a new style - this is basically the outline for the series I cooked up for him. I’m feeling a little burnt out tbh and don't want yet another WIP on my list. I didn't edit this too heavily, so don't yell at me.

Dub con, forced/ arranged marriage, Lucci typical violence (though not described in detail)

You were a waitress at a fancy club that catered to the highest ranks of the social elite. The clientele weren’t to your taste - always leering, often grabbing your ass as you passed by - but the pay wasn’t something you were in a position to turn down. The owner had ties to some…interesting people but you did your job and earned your pay.

Most of the guests who booked the back room were mafia guys, bringing with them their cigars, their ladies, bottleservice, and their overflowing wallets. All you had to do was plaster on your best smile, grin and bear their terrible attitudes for a few hours and you’d be at least a thousand dollars richer.

Tonight was a big party in celebration of someone or other. You’d worn your highest heels and shortest skirt in honor of the event, navigating the stairs to the VIP section from the bar with ease. The club was bumping, the music loud as you faked laughter at yet another shitty innuendo from a mid ranking Capo. Some of the other girls would take it to the next level, sitting on their laps and letting them get a taste, but that wasn’t really your style. You were there for the job, not anything more.

You were the only one in the secluded section for the moment, the other ladies had been sent for dinner service. It would be a short interlude when you were on your own, only 15 minutes or so - and it was already wearing on you as the Capo leaned in to put his hand on your hip.

Your smile twisted into horror as claws reached through the throat of the capo, slicing it open before your eyes. The Capo was thrown back, blood gurgling from his throat as you stood transfixed. There was only one person it could be - Rob Lucci AKA Il Gattopardo, the Leopard.

He was someone who’s name was never mentioned at full volume, as if saying it would summon him. Il Gattopardo was the top hitman to the Don of Red Line City, the Family that defacto ran the whole country. No one went against the Don, and no one survived a meeting with Il Gattopardo. Urban legend said that he’d eaten a Devil Fruit that gave him the ability to turn into his namesake animal, but you’d never believed it. As he towered over you, his claws and teeth dripping with blood, you found the urban legends were correct.

Lucci made eye contact with you as he threw the Capo like a rag doll, his smile widening into a sickening grin. Several men launched themselves at Lucci, but he disposed of them as quickly and silently as his namesake, killing them with precision and speed. You’d never seen anything like it, the men dying before they even had a chance to draw their weapons.

In what felt like hours but was likely seconds, everyone in the back room was dead, your uniform now spattered with blood. The entire time, you hadn’t moved, had barely breathed, as your survival instincts had you rooted to the spot. Finally, Lucci stood to his full height and ambled towards you, flexing his hands as he readied to end your life.

A white pigeon fluttered from his shoulder to your own, its claws gripping into your shoulders. Lucci’s look changed to a more contemplative one as he looked over your now blood spattered uniform. Looming over you, he grabbed your jaw and tilted your face up. Even though you were about to die, you kept your eyes open as tears ran down your face, locking eyes with the killer once more.

To your shock, Lucci’s grip on your chin tightened as he leaned down and licked the tears off your face in one long stripe of his rough tongue. You shivered, both from the contact and the intensity of the stare he was giving you. Lucci removed his tie, his muscles rippling under his bloodstained clothes, and covered your eyes in a makeshift blindfold.

You were taken to a holding facility of some kind. You were expecting to be killed or tortured, though neither happened. You were allowed to shower, given some food and water, and a cot to sleep on. A few days later you were given a white dress, shoes, and makeup and told to get ready. After you donned the outfit, you were again blindfolded and taken by car somewhere nearby.

As the blindfold was removed, you saw you were at a church, with Il Gattopardo holding your car door open. He offered his hand and you accepted as he helped you from the car. Lucci was in an all white suit, the pigeon from the night before in a matching ensemble. His hand was warm and calloused and held your own sweaty palm firmly. You couldn’t have run even if you wanted to - and the number of armed, dangerous Mafia men didn’t bode well for your escape anyway.

Entering the Church, you saw the Don of the Celestial Dragon Family waiting inside the building. He briefly kissed Lucci on the cheek before turning his attention to you. Lucci’s hand tightened on your own in warning, though he still hadn’t said a word.

“Well, well. My dear Robert has finally chosen a bride for himself. I have to say, I was a little surprised at his method of selection, but who can argue with a flower as beautiful as this one? Go along Robert, I’ll walk her down the aisle to you,” the Don said while spreading his hands in a gesture of goodwill. Lucci nodded and let go of your hand as the Don offered you his arm. He walked down the aisle towards the priest and you felt like you’d been traded from one predator for an even nastier one.

The Don was smiling as he spoke quietly to you but there was nothing but ice in his tone. “You know why we didn’t kill you yesterday?” he said as you linked your arm on his own. “The only thing standing between you and death? That man right there, il gattopardo. He asked for you as compensation for last night, and I, the generous Don that I am, agreed,” he continued in the same soft voice as music started playing. The Don pulled you along in step with him as he slowly walked you down the aisle, Lucci watching your every move.

“He asked to marry you, not keep you on the side like some of the men do. What do I care? If he wants to marry the first bar whore he takes a fancy to, that’s his business. And would you like to know your business?” he asked as you passed armed guards watching you from behind mirrored sunglasses.

“Your business is to keep him happy. If he comes home at 3 AM wants head, you give him head. If he wants your ass morning noon and night, that’s what you give him. You’ll marry him, keep him happy, and drain his balls for as long as he sees fit. And if he comes to work upset, well, you’ll get a visit from me. And neither of us want that, now do we? You know what happens to witnesses,” he said serenely as he gently pat your arm. By that time you’d made it to the end of the short walkway, Lucci waiting for you with his hands in his pockets.

“Now give me a kiss on the cheek, marry Robert, and see to it that we don’t meet under poor circumstances. Do we understand one another, bellezza?” You nodded, and kissed the Don like he commanded. The Don flashed another smile at the impassive Lucci and clapped him on the shoulder.

“Just a little marriage advice, she’s a smart young woman. You’ve chosen well, my son.” The pigeon once again moved to your shoulder, the nails on its feet nicking the delicate skin of your collarbones.

The rest of the short marriage ceremony was a blur. The only part you remembered was finally hearing Lucci’s voice for the first time as he said “I do.” You didn’t remember saying the same but you must have because soon Lucci slid a golden wedding band on your finger - it was a perfect fit. He then handed you a matching ring for you to put on his own finger. You replicated his movements with shaky fingers, the ring sliding on easily.

His hand gripped the back of your neck, pulling you closer to him as he kissed you for the first time. His lips were soft and gentle, almost chaste, but his fingers dug into your skin so harshly tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. Lucci scanned your face after pulling away, the calm smile of before flashing to the crazed one you’d seen in the bar.

It quickly faded as the Mafia men cheered for your union as Lucci led you away from the church into a waiting car. At first you didn’t speak during the ride to the compound, just looked out the window at the passing scenery.

“On my lap,” il Gattopardo said as a way of greeting. Remembering the Don’s words, you hastily climbed onto Lucci’s lap, his broad, muscled thighs providing you ample seating. He didn’t speak again and you didn’t either as the car made its way to the Don’s massive compound. You weren’t naive, from your work in the bar you knew Mafia men fucked in their cars all the time. Still, you had hoped your wedding night (if you could call it that) would be on an actual bed, not in the back of a moving vehicle.

But Lucci just wrapped his arm around your middle and pulled you closer, his fingers trailing up and down your arm. His other hand crept up your thigh, drawing closer and closer to the lacy lingerie you’d been given along with the dress. He wasn’t looking at you, but as his fingers grazed the edge of your panties, he bit your earlobe. You stifled a squeak as his fingers ran up and down the crease separating your leg from your groin.

As the fortified 15 foot gates began to open to let the car in, Lucci’s goatee tickled your neck as he leaned in, his arm tightening around you once again.

“Did you think I was going to fuck you in front of the driver, sweet little wife? No, no. You’re only for me, no one else,” he said as you leaned your head back onto his shoulder.

As a husband, Lucci was… not what you were expecting. He was cold and distant, but nearly always polite to you. He always greeted you and kissed you before he left, no matter the time of day or night. You weren’t sure if he liked you, but he tolerated your presence well.

Lucci’s house was the farthest away from the Don’s mansion, located deep within the forest at the back of the hundred acre property. Sometimes you thought you saw him running through the woods, but he was too fast to track with your bare eyes. You often felt like he was watching you from deep in the forest, though you weren’t able to catch him in the act. Still, the back of your neck would prickle and you knew he was out there somewhere, making sure you were safe at home.

Lucci was surprisingly agreeable to any changes you wanted to make in the household - he told you that the house was yours to do with as you pleased. He told you to redecorate if you wished and bought any furniture or appliances you asked for. He supplied you with money for your wardrobe - he said nothing you had before was suitable - and complimented you on the new decor of the house. A few days after you’d moved in Lucci asked you if you wanted an engagement ring, but you ultimately declined, stating that you liked the ring he’d given you and didn’t need anything more. He’d nuzzled you that night for the first time, pleased with the answer you’d given.

Despite his aloof but composed nature, you never forgot the sight of his fur dripping with blood in the nightclub or any time you’d seen it thereafter. He’d come home at times with his spots barely distinguishable from the rest of his coat, licking his chops after a successful slaughter. He’d shower outside before he came in but the sight was unnerving enough that you avoided him until he came into the house, the water running off his fur now clear rather than dirty red.

To ensure it wasn’t your blood he was wearing, you quickly learned what his likes and dislikes were, and tailored your entire life to meet them. It wasn’t the Don’s threats that kept you up at night, it was the deadly leopard whose arm draped over your body that you needed to appease.

Like - Rob Lucci liked to see you waiting for him when he got home from work. He also liked when you ate dinner with him, or at least sat with him when he ate dinner. You learned to cook his favorite meals, which you made for his daily dinner. Most nights at dinnertime he was out working but you thought he did try to return on time. Stripping himself of his work clothes, he’d take a shower and you’d heat his food, sitting down with him after setting the table. He’d come into the kitchen in clean sweatpants, his well muscled body flexing with every move. His routine was to kiss you on the head, sit down across from you, and eat in silence. Afterwards, he took his plate to the sink, rinsed it, and thanked you for the meal, occasionally complimenting your cooking. Every single night.

Dislike - Rob Lucci was intensely jealous. “Kaku says you spoke to another man at the grocery store today,” he’d stated one afternoon as you cooked in the kitchen. He’d come in silently, stalking behind you as you hummed and prepared one of his favorite dishes, ossobuco, for later that evening. You’d squeaked and dropped the wooden spoon into the pot, as Lucci’s leopard form pressed further into you. “Did you want him to die? Is that what you wanted? To see his life blood run down my chin?” he seethed, his razor sharp teeth close to your ear. You didn’t even think he was in the city, he’d told you he’d be gone for several days for this latest mission.

“I..I…” you faltered under his intensity, folding yourself smaller and smaller. He was good to you, nice to you sometimes, but you’d never forgotten who he really was. A cold blooded killer who happened to want you warming his bed. Your eyes filled with tears as he grabbed your throat, his claw tipped hand serving as warning enough. You’d spoken to a man during your check out encounter, but how did Kaku know? You’d only met the enforcer a few times when Lucci had brought him home and you hadn’t seen him around town. “I’m s-sorry, I was j-just talking about the price of the food, he was just a kid,” you whispered. You didn’t know what else to do as the hand around your throat tightened. The worker had been maybe 16, and he proudly told you how the grocery store was his first job.

Lucci tutted at you, releasing you from his grasp. “You are mine,” he’d husked, nipping the tender skin of your shoulder, small droplets of blood seeping out. He licked the wound clean with his Zoan tongue, making you wince with its harsh texture.

You’d met Kaku a few times, and his other coworkers only once before, when there’d been a mandatory Family dinner at the main house. Lucci had instructed you not to cook dinner that night and brought you to the mansion, his and Hattori’s suits matching your dress.

You felt uncomfortable and out of place as you scanned the room and saw some of the Family’s most infamous members, some with significant others. Lucci barely interacted with the others during the cocktail hour, keeping his hand on the back of your neck the entire time.

You’d sat silently to his right and watched as the various Mafia members chatted and spoke together, laughing and cavorting together. Lucci spoke a few times to Kaku, the giraffe amusing in his own way. You smiled once at something Kaku said and Lucci gripped your upper thigh under the table.

Another Zoan called for your attention, a man with a strange mustache and a long ponytail. “So your wife does exist, Lucci. Thought you were makin’ her up this whole time. Has he spoken to you yet? Or just grunts when he wants somethin’?” he asked derisively, finally looking at you.

Even though Jabra was talking to you, he was still looking at Lucci while he spoke, a wild glint in his eye. You didn’t answer, afraid of the outcome. Lucci transformed his hand and stabbed his claws into the thick mahogany table, the table cracking between his fingertips. Conversation momentarily stopped as others watched the exchange, with Jabra’s laugh ringing out in the background. Meanwhile he patted your thigh under the table, and you entwined your fingers with his own. His thumb stroking over your hand showed his anger was not directed towards you.

As soon as the wives were dismissed by the Don so the Family could discuss business, Lucci immediately sent you back to the house under armed guard, staying for the business meeting at the end of the meal. He returned a few hours later, his suit and skin torn by jagged claws, some of the blood his own but most not. He kissed you then went to change, not mentioning what had happened. You didn’t ask.

Like - Lucci liked that you took excellent care of Hattori. You prepared high quality, fresh bird food for the pigeon daily and catered to his every desire. The Don had said that Lucci was the one who saved your life, but you knew Hattori’s approval was the reason Lucci had spared you. The bird was your lifeline, and you treated him like a king. It was a little disconcerting watching him drink scotch out of a cup, but if that’s what Hattori wanted, that’s what Hattori got.

Dislike - Lucci didn’t like when you left the compound, much less the house. Like his animal, Lucci preferred a solitary life. For you that meant that he always wanted you home or under his surveillance. He’d had outdoor furniture delivered to the house so you could sit under the shade of an umbrella outside, and would walk the nature trails with you on sunny days, but he wanted you waiting for him whenever he made it back to the house. He was gone for days and sometimes weeks at a time but you dutifully made dinner every night just in the event that he came home.

At first he just had everything you needed delivered to his house - groceries, clothes, furniture, books - but eventually you begged him with enough fervor that he allowed you to leave to go shopping. He’d take you into town himself, patiently watching as you selected your wares. He didn’t complain as he smelled candles that you were thinking of purchasing, giving his input if they were too pungent for his taste. He looked collected, even casual, but you knew that lurking just under the surface of his calm demeanor was an animal who relished in the spilling of blood.

~NSFW~

You were fairly certain Lucci didn’t mean to hurt you. He was careful to dull or bite off the tips of his claws before he touched your nude form, and didn’t batter you with his incredible strength. Heeding the warning from the Don, you never denied him no matter what time of day or night he wanted you. That being said, nearly every time you had sex with him you ended up crying, tears streaming down your face as you inevitably begged him for mercy.

Whether it was from overstimulation, edging, tickling, being stuffed full too many times, being fucked for hours on end, being bitten somewhere sensitive, you always ended up crying. Which in turn drove Lucci absolutely wild, filling you to the brim with his come over and over until you thought you’d burst.

Lucci carried you over the threshold of your house after coming home from the Church. You didn’t even have time to look around the house before he sliced through your bra strap as his fingers toyed with your dress. “Run,” was all the warning you got as he set you down on the hardwood floors. You looked up at him with wide eyes and tried to bolt as fast as you could out of the house. You didn’t make it past the living room before Lucci caught you, your body on the floor as he kept you in place easily. He kissed you deeply while rucking up your dress, catching both of your wrists in one large hand and pinning them over your head.

“I can smell your desire, little wife. You’ve been ready for me,” was all he said before he plunged into you. You later learned that he’d been going easy on you, not using the Zoan form of his cock and allowing you to adjust to his length.

Lucci took you on the floor where he’d caught you, later flipping you over for doggy style as you panted beneath him. You’d never taken anyone near as large as Lucci, and definitely not with the intensity he had. He plunged into you over and over, the tip of his cock brushing your gspot, giving you a sensation you’d never had before. One hand was under your belly, pushing against his own cock within you while the other rubbed your clit more tenderly than you were expecting.

Lucci had you coming on his cock as he buried himself in you. The first time you came, he bit your shoulder blade with his Zoan teeth, making you scream even louder as you hit your peak. It wasn’t like in the romance novels you used to read, it hurt as his teeth rent your flesh. He was proud of himself afterwards, licking the spot repeatedly even as you whined.

Later, after he’d come in you twice, he’d carried you to his bed. You were nodding off to sleep, thinking that he might have worn himself out, only to feel his rough tongue on the insides of your thighs. It was a harsher texture than a human tongue, making you try to close your thighs from surprise. Lucci held your legs open easily, taking what he wanted from you.

After he’d licked his fill, he transformed into his Zoan form. You scooted back on the bed, frightened. “I can’t - that’s not going to fit,” you whispered, gesturing to his weeping cock. He fisted it as he looked at you, stroking it in a loose fist. His human cock had been large, but his Zoan one was enormous, matching his gigantic leopard form.

“It will. You were made for this,” he purred, grabbing an ankle to pull you back towards him. You wrapped your legs around his waist and braced for intense pain, but it didn’t come. Not exactly. Lucci fed you his cock slowly, pushing forward every time you exhaled.

Even with his patience, he was dripping sweat by the time he was finally sheathed within you. You felt his possession of you everywhere - his cock stretching you full, his fur on your legs, his teeth on your face - it was all too much. As he began moving, you began crying from overstimulation. Like the night you met, he leaned down and licked the tears off your face but this time kissed you deeply thereafter.

Within minutes, Lucci was bouncing you on his lap, thrusting up into you as you came yet another time. You lost count of how many orgasms he wrung from you on your wedding night, but he allowed you to sleep in the following day. You woke around noon and stumbled into the kitchen to make him food, only to find him drinking tea on the couch.

After that point, for as domestic as Lucci was when he was relaxing in your presence, he was feral when he came back from a mission. He always wanted you in lacy underwear, which he would immediately shred. He then would lap at your folds until you were wet enough to take him, splitting you on his throbbing member. He’d thrust into you without abandon until he came deep within you.

After the first time he came, the sex would be a little less intense, but always under Lucci’s control. Sex was on his terms, on his schedule, and at his convenience. He always made sure you came multiple times, but you weren’t allowed to do anything to chase it yourself - he had to be the one to make you come undone.

You also weren’t allowed to masturbate when he was gone. No matter how long he would be gone for, you weren’t allowed to touch yourself without him. “That’s my pretty pussy,” he’d growled in your ear the day after your wedding as he prepared to leave the house. “Don’t you dare touch it while I’m away.” You were too scared to defy him; sure he’d be able to tell if you disobeyed his orders.

Lucci always felt for himself while he was inside you, his hands pressing against your abdomen to feel his own cock as he fucked you. When he was in his Zoan form, the bulge was particularly pronounced and Lucci reveled in seeing your distended walls taking him. “My wife, taking me so well, being so good for me,” he’d purr into your ear as his hand pressed down on you, intensifying the feelings of being completely full. The rare praise coupled with the overwhelming sensations often had you coming as soon as the words left his mouth - not that he let you stop there.

When the weather permitted, Lucci would have you flee down the nature trails near the house to chase you down. You never made it far, he was faster and stronger than you could ever dream of being. He took you wherever he caught you - against a tree, bent over a rock, or even on the forest floor.

One time you managed to fool him for a few seconds using a piece of your clothing heavily doused in your scent. Lucci had delighted in your deception, forcing you to sit on his face once he caught you, his long Zoan tongue thrust deep within you as you ground yourself on his face. By the time he was done with you, he had to carry your limp body back to the house as you dozed off in his arms.

If he felt you weren’t obedient or strong enough, he wouldn’t allow you to come until you’d “proven” yourself. Sometimes that involved sucking him off until your jaw ached, sometimes that meant riding him to his satisfaction, and sometimes that meant you were thrown over his knee and spanked, your ass sore and red for days to come.

His sensitive sense of smell made him able to detect when you were wet and waiting for him. He would rub his nose up and down your slit and inhale deeply, licking his lips to begin tasting you.

Lucci was obsessed with your breasts. Even when you weren’t having sex, he was always pawing at them or slipping his hand under your shirt and bra to touch them. When your shirt was off, it seemed like one of your nipples was always in his mouth and the other rolled between his calloused fingertips. Many times he bruised your nipples and breasts from his attention, but that only increased his attention. He loved when you were impaled on his cock, writhing as he sucked on your nipples but not allowing you to thrust yourself up and down.

Lucci loved when you cockwarmed him. He said it was a type of training for him, to want something intensely and deny himself the pleasure. There were many nights where you found yourself impaled on his cock in his armchair, facing away from him as one hand gripped your hips and the other read missives or non fiction books. One night you weren’t as focused as Lucci and were squirming but he kept you in place easily as your juices coated his thighs over the course of an hour.

“You are not this weak, bellezza. Show me your strength,” he said quietly as he continued reading. You inhaled a breath and tried to focus on anything but the massive cock buried within you, its tip kissing your gspot as Lucci shifted his body in the chair.

It worked until Lucci transformed just his cock, the change in size making you moan from pleasure. Lucci gave you a smirk and kissed your forehead. “Opponents don’t play fair.”

He spanked you for not withstanding the training as you should have, his leg holding down your own as he put you over his knee. You took what he gave you, trying to show him that you could be strong in your own way. He spanked you until you cried then took your ass for good measure. That night he let you pet his fuzzy Zoan ears as a reward before you drifted off to sleep.

“You’ll become stronger, bellezza. But you’ll always be my soft underbelly,” Lucci said as his own eyes slid closed. From him, it might as well have been a declaration of love.

#rob lucci #lucci x reader #Lucci x you #rob lucci x reader #il gattopardo #not the interesting novel and movie #the silly mafia AU I wrote for a fiction man #I have *gotten over* his ballsack beard #I see his potential as a blorbo now #Though all the murder is a little much IMO #lucci one piece #tw dubcon #tw dacryphilia #primal play #x reader #op x y/n #reader insert

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gogotti · 1 year ago

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Starving - Michael Myers/Reader - NSFW

This was a quick drabble I did! If there's any mistakes I was high when I wrote this so blame high me.

Warnings: Michael gives you head, i'm still using the word cunt lmfao, and nothing else really.

Michael loved eating you out; he'd eat you like a starving man most nights, and considering how infrequently he actually sought you out, for food and pleasure, you always assumed he was.

He'd make sure that you were awake when he arrived, wandering around your house doing chores or getting ready for bed; he'd enter quietly to catch you off guard, and not waste any time dropping to his knees and making you sit on a nearby surface. Michael would tear off your pants, throwing the scraps of fabric behind him and placing his blood soaked hands on your thighs, spreading them as far as they'd go.

On some nights he'd inspect you first, using his thumbs to slowly spread your lips and stare at your wet cunt, only letting you feel his heavy and hot breaths on your clit. Eventually, he'd lift his mask halfway off of his face and lick a sloppy stripe from your hole to your clit, sucking harshly on the sensitive bud. It wouldn't take long for him to get messier, saliva and your cum covering his beard and coating your thighs.

He didn't know what he was doing, clearly; his lack of rhythm or a pattern was proof enough, but he was willing to let you slowly guide his head, and moan sweet affirmations at him when he made you feel good. He'd know when he found the perfect spot to lick and suck when you'd begin to arch your back and squeeze your thighs around his head tightly. He'd grab your thighs, harshly prying them apart and making you whine, so you reach for his head instead, shoving his face further into your cunt and letting out a loud drawn-out moan.

You gripped onto his mask, nearly taking it off as you felt that familiar feeling begin to bubble at your core. Michael could tell you were close, he could feel your cunt clenching and twitching around his tongue when he'd quickly dip it inside, and he could clearly hear your loud pleas to cum.

He let you, of course, needing to feel you gush around his tongue just as much as you. You couldn't help but let your eyes roll to the back of your head and your mouth fall open; your back arched, further shoving your cunt into Michael's face and fueling him to continue lapping at your cunt.

#rz michael myers #michael myers #michael myers x reader #michael myers x you #michael myers x y/n #slashers #slashers x reader #rob zombie Michael Myers #halloween 2007 #halloween #rz michael myers x reader

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sunandflame · 24 days ago

Text

Heat of the Beast

The signs had been there all day, subtle but unmistakable — the kind of tension that coiled low in your gut and whispered of danger wearing the face of desire.

Warnings: nsfw, rough smut, rutting instinct, size difference, mild breeding kink, use of devil fruit (zoan hybrid form), possessive dominance, tbh it's pwp

Word Count: 3275

Pairing: Rob Lucci x AFAB!Reader

crossposted on AO3

The signs had been there all day.

You had seen it in the way Lucci watched you — those intense, slow drags of his green-gold gaze across your body like he was memorizing you, branding you. The way his fingers lingered too long against yours when passing a cup of tea, the way his breathing had become almost imperceptibly deeper, slower, more deliberate.

Heat.

You knew what it meant by now. Once a month, his animal blood overpowered even his iron will, dragging him down into a storm of instincts he usually despised. He hated losing control. Hated being reduced to nothing but the primal urge to take, claim, breed.

Tonight was worse.

You could feel it in the air between you — thick and heavy, almost buzzing. And even now, as you sat on the bed, pretending to read, you could feel him looming just beyond the doorway. Watching you.

Waiting.

"Lucci?" you called softly, heart pounding, pretending not to hear the way your own voice trembled slightly.

There was a long pause — and then the slow, deliberate thud of his boots across the floor.

He stepped into the room, and the air shifted immediately.

You swallowed hard.

He wasn't fully shifted — not yet — but you could see the signs: the sharp gleam of his pupils narrowing into slits, the slight enlargement of his canines when he exhaled slow through his teeth, his muscles tensed and coiled tight under his black shirt.

When he spoke, his voice was lower than usual — rough, thick with restraint. "Come here."

Not a request. A command.

You set the book down with trembling fingers and stood. Your steps were hesitant — not from fear — but from the electricity that seemed to snap between your bodies as you approached.

You barely had time to inhale before he seized your wrist — gently, but with a grip that brooked no argument — and pulled you close, pressing your smaller form against the broad, tense wall of his chest.

He was burning to the touch. Heat radiated off him in waves. His scent — deep, musky, wild — curled around you like smoke, dizzying and addictive.

His head dipped low, his lips ghosting the shell of your ear.

"You smell like you want me," he murmured, voice a dangerous rasp. "You know what I need. Don't you?"

You nodded weakly, breath hitching, body already betraying you — arching into him, thighs pressing together.

He chuckled low — a dark, rumbling sound from deep in his chest — and his hand slid possessively down your side, over the curve of your waist, pausing at your hip. Holding you there.

"Say it," he ordered softly. "Tell me you’ll let me."

You shivered — half from nerves, half from the way his dominant presence swallowed you whole.

"I’ll let you," you whispered, barely audible. "I’m yours."

A growl vibrated against your body in response — approving, pleased — and then suddenly the heat between you ignited.

His body began to shift against yours — taller, broader, heavier — as the beast inside him took over. Muscle thickened under your palms; black-spotted fur prickled against your fingertips; claws pricked the bedsheets when he caged you against the mattress.

His hybrid form was terrifying — breathtaking — devastating.

A massive leopard-man looming over your much smaller frame, his green eyes burning down at you with pure, unfiltered hunger. He bent over you, nudging your cheek with his nose, inhaling deeply.

"Mine," he rumbled — a savage, reverent declaration.

You whimpered when his clawed fingers gripped your thighs and pushed them apart — rough but careful — as though he barely trusted himself not to tear you apart.

His mouth grazed the sensitive spot below your ear — and for a moment, he simply hovered there — breathing hard, muscles trembling with restraint.

"Last chance," he rasped, voice breaking with need. "Tell me no, and I’ll walk away. I’ll fucking tear myself apart if I have to. But if you say yes..."

You tilted your head back, throat bare to him, surrendering completely. "Yes," you breathed.

And that was all it took.

He surged forward — kissing you bruisingly hard, hands everywhere — dragging you down into the primal, raw hunger he'd bottled up for too long.

You moaned into his mouth as he manhandled you effortlessly — lifting you, spreading you, grinding the massive, throbbing heat of him against your core through the thin barrier of your panties. Still clothed — but barely — the friction between you was overwhelming. You could feel the hard outline of him, huge and leaking through his pants, rutting against you in slow, desperate rolls of his hips.

Your skirt bunched up around your waist; your panties were soaked through in minutes.

Lucci's claws shredded the front of his own trousers enough to free himself — thick, slick, dripping precome already — and he pressed the blunt, hot head against your trembling entrance.

Still fully clothed, panting, grinding against each other like animals in the dark. You clutched at his spotted fur, nails digging deep, gasping his name.

"Lucci—"

"Shh," he growled against your throat, grinding harder, his cock catching against your clit just enough to make you sob.

"Take it," he rasped. "Be good for me. Let me have you."

One savage thrust — and he buried himself halfway inside — the stretch nearly unbearable, so big it stole the breath from your lungs. He froze immediately, a guttural snarl ripping from his throat as he fought the urge to slam into you.

"Too tight," he growled against your shoulder. "So good—fuck, you're good—"

He rocked his hips in tiny, controlled thrusts — barely moving — stretching you slowly, agonizingly, forcing your body to take every thick inch.

Your legs trembled, wrapped around his waist.

Every movement was clumsy, desperate, still fully clothed, driven by pure animalistic need.

Lucci's mouth latched onto your throat — not biting, but hovering dangerously close — and his entire body shook with the effort of holding back enough not to hurt you.

"Mine," he rasped again. "Always. Forever."

You could only nod helplessly — body burning, nerves on fire — as he finally bottomed out inside you, filling you completely, claiming you in the most primal way possible as his cock throbbed deep inside you, buried to the hilt — impossibly thick, stretching you so full it made you whimper breathlessly against his furred chest.

And for one, trembling moment — Lucci didn’t move. He hovered there, shuddering, arms locked on either side of your head, whole massive body tensed like a bowstring drawn to its limit.

You could feel it. The primal, trembling urge inside him to just take you. To rut into you like a wild animal until you forgot your own name. But somehow — barely — he held himself still, teeth gritted, low snarling breaths rasping against your neck.

"Too small," he growled roughly, voice cracked with the effort of restraint. "You're too fucking small—"

You whimpered, squirming helplessly underneath him — but the tiny flex of your hips against him was enough to shatter what little control he had left.

He snapped.

The first thrust wasn't pretty — it was brutal, needy, frantic — a dragging pull-back of his hips that made you keen, made your nails rake helplessly down the thick muscles of his arms. When he drove back into you, it wasn't smooth — it was clumsy, messy, as if he couldn’t not slam back to the deepest part of you, chasing some feral, inborn high.

"Fuck—," Lucci snarled, forehead dropping to press against yours, his whole body shaking.

He pumped his hips in shallow, devastating thrusts — grinding you down into the mattress, holding you like you might disappear if he let go.

Each thrust was a struggle — not because he wanted to stop — but because he wanted to fuck you harder, deeper, rougher than your body could take. He cursed low and vicious under his breath in between every slow, desperate thrust.

Your thighs clung to his waist, trembling, heels digging into the small of his back, trying to keep him there — pressed so deep inside you that you felt him everywhere.

"S-so good," you gasped, arching up into him, sobbing his name.

Lucci snarled — a dangerous, wrecked sound — and bent to crush your mouth under his in a kiss that was less kiss and more claiming.

Teeth scraping.

Tongues tangling.

Breathless, broken gasps between the slamming of hips against hips.

"Say it," he demanded raggedly against your mouth, pounding into you with short, brutal thrusts that made the whole bed shudder. "Say you're mine."

"Yours," you sobbed without hesitation, clinging to him, body clenching tight around the thickness of him.

He lost it.

With a guttural growl, he shoved one huge arm under your waist — dragging you impossibly closer, tipping your hips up at a brutal angle — so he could bottom out even deeper inside you, grinding against your cervix with every desperate thrust.

"That's right," he snarled. "That's right. Mine. Mine. Fucking—mine."

He was rutting into you like he couldn't stop — rough and relentless, making you cry out with every slam of his hips, tears slipping down your cheeks from the overwhelming stretch, the raw burning pleasure.

Your body clung to him, trembling, and it only made him more frantic — chasing the smell of your heat, the slick between your thighs, the desperate way you mewled his name like he was the only thing in the world that mattered.

"Gonna breed you," he growled against your throat, voice raw, almost mindless. "Fill you up. Knot you if I have to. You're mine."

You sobbed something — yes, please, anything — and that was all he needed.

His hips slammed into you faster, messier, all rhythm forgotten — reduced to pure instinct, rutting hard and wild and mindless, grinding you into the mattress with each possessive thrust.

You barely realized you were coming until your whole body convulsed — clenching tight around him — sobbing his name brokenly into the crook of his neck.

Lucci growled— A ragged, feral sound that was half-pain, half-ecstasy — And his hips stuttered once, twice — before he drove himself impossibly deep one last time and came. The heat of it spilled inside you — endless, overwhelming — filling you up so much that you whimpered against his neck, nails raking down his back as he ground against you through the aftershocks.

Even after he came, he didn't stop moving — slow, shallow grinds, refusing to pull out, cock twitching deep inside you, his massive frame caging you down, panting harshly against your throat. Still trembling. Still barely holding back from starting all over again.

You couldn’t breathe. Not properly. Not with the way Lucci’s massive body was pressing you into the mattress, the heat of his skin searing against yours, his cock still sheathed so deep inside you it felt like you’d never be empty again.

He was trembling. Full body, bone-deep shakes — low, ragged snarls rumbling against your throat like he was still fighting himself, even though the worst of his heat had been sated. His arms locked tighter around your waist, keeping your hips pinned flush to his.

You whimpered softly — half overwhelmed, half aching — trying to shift, to ease the heavy stretch where he was still grinding slow, instinctive rolls into your sore, soaked cunt.

The second you moved, Lucci growled — deep, guttural — and shoved himself deeper, grinding into the soft, swollen spot inside you with brutal finality.

"Don't—" he rasped, voice shredded raw from panting and snarling. "Don't move. You're not going anywhere."

You could feel the thick twitch of him inside you — the way his cock swelled slightly, as if even the thought of pulling away made his body rebel. Possessive. Wild. His green eyes, glowing faintly in the darkness, pinned you — the feral glint in them making your heart stutter and your body shiver under him.

Slowly — as if he didn't trust himself — he nuzzled his nose against your neck, dragging in slow, ragged breaths of your scent. You felt the gentle scrape of his fangs skim the soft skin there — not biting, just hovering, threatening.

A reminder.

A warning.

You were his.

You would stay his.

"Smell like me now," Lucci rumbled hoarsely, voice dropping to a dangerous purr. "Inside and out. They’ll know who you belong to."

You whimpered — overwhelmed, trembling, brain foggy from the brutal fucking and the way his weight blanketed you.

Your fingers twitched weakly against his back — still buried in the thick fur between his shoulder blades — and Lucci purred lowly in response, pressing his entire body closer, caging you against the bed as if he could merge you with himself if he just pressed hard enough.

Even soft, even done, there was no escaping him. You were stretched to the brink around him — aching, throbbing — slickness smearing between your thighs, a messy, embarrassing wet heat. But Lucci didn’t pull out. Didn’t let you breathe.

His hips gave tiny, unconscious rocks — not to fuck you, not yet — just to keep himself inside, to keep the bond sealed, to keep your body trembling around his cock until you couldn’t remember what it felt like to be alone. His nose brushed your jaw, a rare, dangerous tenderness in the way he held you — like a wounded animal clutching its mate, afraid you might vanish if he loosened his grip.

"Little thing," he rasped, the words a broken, reverent snarl against your skin. "Took me so well."

You keened softly — overwhelmed, flooded with the heat and praise and the lingering, dizzy ache of being so utterly filled.

He shifted, lowering himself even more until your chest was pressed flush to his — your heart pounding frantic against his much slower, rumbling pulse.

Slowly, gently — he hooked one massive, furred hand under your thigh and hitched it higher around his waist, making your battered core clench weakly around him, earning a low, dangerous growl.

"Fuck—" he gritted out. "Tight still. Don’t squeeze me—"

But your body wasn’t listening — clenching and fluttering helplessly around the thickness of him, still greedy even after being ruined. Lucci’s control frayed further — he pushed into you with a shallow thrust, slow but unstoppable, grinding deep where you were most sensitive. You whimpered, head lolling back against the pillow.

He didn’t stop — moving in slow, aching, endless rolls — dragging his cock along every battered, oversensitive nerve inside you until your thighs were trembling and you were mewling brokenly against his shoulder. It wasn’t rough anymore. It was tender now — brutal in a different way — as if he was trying to mark every inch of you from the inside out, to imprint himself so deep that even time couldn’t wash him away.

The air was hot, sticky, heavy with the scent of sex and sweat and something more primal — something that made your instincts curl inward, pressing closer, submitting without even thinking.

Lucci pressed his forehead to yours, breathing raggedly through his nose, one hand still cupping the underside of your thigh, the other wrapped tight around your back, keeping you caged and motionless under him.

"You’re mine," he whispered, voice wrecked, low, barely human. "Always. Even if you run, little thing. Even if you fight me. You're mine."

You whimpered weakly, nodding — because you couldn’t speak — because it was true — because even if you could have fought him, you never would.

You were his. And he would never let you forget it.

He nuzzled your jaw again, low growls of satisfaction rumbling through his chest as you sagged bonelessly under him — utterly, completely spent — trembling from the overwhelming fullness and the soft, endless way he rutted into you, claiming you over and over, even in the trembling aftermath.

You didn’t know how long he stayed like that — fucking you slow and deep and possessive in the dark, murmuring broken, snarling praises against your skin.

For a long moment, neither of you moved.

The only sound was your broken, shaky breathing against his massive chest, and the low, rumbling growl in his throat that hadn't fully stopped — a deep, vibrating sound of possessive satisfaction and lingering hunger.

You clung to him — fists tangled in the thick fur at his shoulders, face buried in the crook of his neck.

And he buried himself deeper around you, curling his larger body protectively over yours, surrounding you in heat and scent and the heavy, primal thrum of his heartbeat.

His cock still pulsed deep inside you, a slow, lazy twitch of ownership that made you whimper softly — overstimulated, overwhelmed — but somehow craving even more.

You could feel the way his muscles trembled under the fur. Not from exhaustion — no. From restraint. From the brutal, raw effort it took not to flip you over and take you again, harder, rougher, the way his instincts demanded.

Instead, Lucci dragged in a deep, shuddering breath — and pressed his huge, clawed hand between your shoulder blades, cradling you close.

"You’re safe," he rasped into your hair. His voice was rough, ragged — the words almost a plea. "With me. Always."

You nodded weakly, still trembling. One massive hand slipped under your thighs, adjusting you so gently it made your chest ache. He moved slowly, carefully — as if he thought you might break if he wasn't careful enough. Still half-dressed, your skirt pushed up indecently around your waist, your panties hanging loosely from one ankle — but he didn’t seem to notice, or care.

All he cared about was the way you smelled — the way you felt — warm, spent, and utterly his.

His tongue — rougher in this form — rasped slowly over your shoulder, a slow, claiming lick that made you shiver again. Marking you. Scenting you. Binding you to him in ways far deeper than any ring or vow could.

You tilted your head weakly, exposing your throat without thinking. The growl that tore out of him was feral — but somehow gentle, too.

Slowly — agonizingly slow — Lucci shifted back, just slightly: shrinking down from his full hybrid form until he was still larger, still powerful, but more human in shape. Still, his green-gold eyes blazed down at you with naked, possessive adoration.

He cupped your jaw with one clawed hand, thumb stroking your cheek — a soft touch that betrayed the animalistic hunger barely restrained beneath his skin.

"You're too good to me," he murmured roughly.

You blinked up at him, dazed, body still thrumming from the aftermath. "I love you," you whispered hoarsely, voice wrecked from crying out his name.

Lucci stiffened — just for a moment — and then his mouth crashed against yours, devouring you in a kiss that tasted like desperation and devotion. When he finally pulled back, his forehead dropped against yours.

He was breathing hard, trembling slightly. "I almost lost control," he confessed in a low, tortured whisper. "You made me feel—" His voice broke off, strained.

You stroked his jaw with trembling fingers. "You didn’t hurt me," you promised softly. "You never could."

Another deep, shuddering breath from him — as if your words physically relieved something heavy in his chest. Carefully, Lucci shifted again — this time fully back into his human form — and collapsed onto the bed with you, wrapping his massive body around yours.

His green eyes watched you — not cold now, but something devastatingly raw. As if you were the only thing tethering him to the world.

One large hand splayed protectively over your belly, fingers curling as if to shield the most vulnerable part of you from the world. He buried his face against your throat again, murmuring something so low you almost didn’t catch it.

"Mine," he breathed. "Only mine."

You smiled weakly, closing your eyes, letting the heavy warmth of him lull you into a fragile, exhausted peace.Outside, the world spun on — but here, in this dark little cocoon of heat and whispered devotion, you were safe.

Cherished.

Claimed.

This was a little request from @potato-imouto under this post. I hope you liked it sweetheart 😘

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sh4nksslvt · 23 days ago

Note

!!Hello, good afternoon. Excuse me, I loved the story of the reader who has the ability to read stones. I don't remember his name. But can you make one where he escapes from CP9? The harem would be Lucci Kaku.Kalifa and Jabra But there the reader escapes but before he leaves them a gift I leave it to your imagination Please I would love to see one

glad u loved it! its not much but i hope u like this!!

Secrets in Stone

When CP9 stumbles across a mysterious stranger who can read poneglyphs, their mission turns from capture to chaotic obsession.

CP9 x gn! reader Tags: fluff, flirty, chaos a/n: this js me trying to write ffs, this is experimental and for fun only, so expect this ff cringe and oc word count: 828

masterlist | ko-fi

: 𓏲🐋 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖✩࿐࿔ 🌊

The day was supposed to be simple.

You perched atop a crumbled temple ruin, legs dangling over the mossy stone, casually brushing dust off an ancient poneglyph slab. The symbols glowed faintly under your touch, and you tilted your head thoughtfully before speaking aloud in a clear, ancient tongue.

A bird cawed somewhere above, startled into flight — but otherwise, the jungle remained eerily quiet.

Unbeknownst to you (well, actually, you had sensed them miles away — you weren’t clueless), five very unwanted visitors were lurking nearby.

“This is it,” Spandam whispered, waving his arms like an overexcited tour guide. “The ruin where the said energy signature came from! Move it, CP9!”

"Tch, keep your voice down, idiot," Lucci muttered, hands stuffed lazily into his pockets, but his eyes sharpened in the direction of your voice.

"Huh? You hear that?" Jabra’s ears twitched as he sniffed the air dramatically. "Someone’s already here!"

"Impossible," Kalifa adjusted her glasses, heels clicking softly as she moved through the brush. "No civilian could've bypassed the government’s perimeter."

"Unless they’re better than you," Kaku quipped with a cheeky grin.

Kalifa glared. "You wanna test that theory, Giraffe-boy?"

They emerged from the dense foliage like a pack of chaotic hyenas, just in time to see you — calm, glowing faintly under the light of the poneglyph — speaking it aloud.

Dead silence.

You finished the last line, tapping the stone gently as if saying goodbye to an old friend. "Huh. That was easier than last time." Then you turned casually, meeting four wide-eyed CP9 agents and one screeching Spandam.

"Wh-WHAT?! Another one who can READ THEM?!" Spandam screeched, practically foaming at the mouth. He turned to his agents. "Capture them immediately!! They're government property now!!!"

You dusted off your hands, unfazed. "…Tch. Was hoping to avoid this." You rolled your neck until it cracked and lazily picked up your weapon of choice — a strange-looking whip, glowing faintly with ancient runes.

Lucci blurred forward with Soru, fingers twitching with deadly Shigan precision. But you sidestepped smoothly, your own body flickering with a power that looked suspiciously like Soru — but faster, a custom technique you called "Phantom Step."

He grunted in surprise, landing where you were, not where you are.

Kaku came next, flipping into the air with Rankyaku, sending a blade of compressed air slicing toward you.

You spun your whip, the ancient runes shimmering. With a casual flick, the whip shattered the air blade with a crack that shook the ruins.

Kalifa tried to close in with her Awa Awa no Mi powers, bubbles already forming between her fingers, smirking.

"Don’t worry, I’ll make you nice and clean," she purred, blowing a kiss laced with shimmering soap bubbles.

You blew her a kiss back — and in the same motion, snapped your whip to dissolve her bubbles mid-air.

"Sorry, sweetheart," you teased coolly. "I don't do bubble baths on first dates."

Kalifa stammered, cheeks flushing pink.

And then, Jabra — sweet chaotic Jabra — lunged at you in hybrid wolf form, snarling, fangs bared.

"You won't be so cocky once I chew your—"

You ducked under him mid-sentence, used Phantom Step to appear behind him, and flicked his ear with two fingers. "Down, boy."

Jabra yelped, skidding face-first into a wall.

"WHAT ARE YOU FOUR DOING?! CAPTURE THEM!!" Spandam shrieked again.

The CP9 agents stood there, battle-ready… but weirdly hesitant.

Because now that they’d actually seen you — how you moved, how effortlessly you dismantled their attacks, the cool confidence radiating off you — …it was way less about capturing you and way more about "holy shit, they're hot."

"They're… impressive," Lucci muttered under his breath, narrowed eyes lingering on the curve of your mouth when you smirked.

"No kidding," Kaku agreed, grinning wide.

"I wanna wrestle them," Jabra said immediately.

"Pervert," Kalifa and Kaku said in perfect unison.

You stretched lazily, letting your whip dangle at your side. "Look," you said, voice dripping with casual arrogance, "I don’t have time for government clowns. I got bigger stones to read, if you know what I mean."

Jabra visibly wagged his tail.

You decided it was time to leave.

But not without a little gift.

Later that night, when CP9 regrouped at their makeshift camp — bruised, flustered, and thoroughly bewildered — they found something waiting for them in the center of their campfire:

A small, folded piece of parchment.

On it: a crude little doodle of all four CP9 members getting their asses handed to them by a stick-figure version of you, labeled “ME :)”. And underneath, in neat cursive: "Catch me if you can. - (Y/N)"

Spandam combusted from rage. The others?

Lucci stared at the note for a long time, a smirk twitching at the edge of his lips. Kaku burst out laughing, clutching his sides. Kalifa looked like she wanted to be mad, but was mostly trying to hide her blush. Jabra immediately declared he was “in love.”

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