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shuafiles · 30 days ago

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making the bed [c.sc]

MDNI, 18+

SUMMARY | you and seungcheol’s marriage is hanging on by a thread. separate rooms, broken conversations, and barely any contact, it's clear that what you once had is slipping away. desperate for a second chance, you both turn to couples therapy, but when intimacy—or the lack of it—becomes the topic of conversation, everything changes.

PAIRING | husband!seungcheol x afab!reader

CONTENT | nonidol!seungcheol, angst, bad relationships, miscommunication, fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, creampie

WORDS | 4.9k

A/N | quick disclaimer i know nothing about therapy sessions, so there may be inaccuracies. i loooved writing this ! i hope u enjoy it as much as i did, pls pls pls leave feedback if u can. ty <3 not proofread !!!

you woke up to yet another feeling of cold sheets beside you. the sun peeking through the curtains, the cool breeze of air conditioning meeting your skin. you shivered at the sensation. you patted seungcheol’s side of the bed, knowing you would be disappointed yet again. your eyes fluttered open, the sight of neatly tucked sheets on the opposite side of the bed made your heart heavy. as if he hadn’t slept there at all.

for months now, your marriage had a cloud looming over it. love that was once warm had grown cold and silent, reduced to taking care of household necessities and meaningless small talk. you couldn’t remember the last time you felt comforted by your husband of three years. and even if you did, the memory wouldn’t bring any comfort.

seungcheol’s career was at its peak. he was a few steps closer to getting promoted to a higher position at the firm he worked at. of course, along with this almost promotion, he had to sacrifice spending time with you. he was never home most days of the week. and if he were home, he would instead be resting and catching up on whatever sports he watched on tv.

needless to say, you were getting tired of that routine. you felt lonely. you tried to keep yourself busy with work or even joining a pilates class, but every corner reminded you of how much you missed your husband. the sight of other wives being picked up from work or how some husbands would join their wives for workouts. the feeling was gnawing at your chest.

you and seungcheol didn’t fight. in fact, you barely even talked. you resorted to cooking his favorite meals–which were mostly piling up in the fridge because he was never home–and steaming his suits for him. the silence that gathered in your home was louder than any argument could ever be.

it was strange, living together, yet he felt farther than when he went on his business trips.

you loved seungcheol. you were so in love with him that the thought of losing him terrified you. but sometimes you wonder if love alone was enough to hold your marriage together. you often thought about what went wrong, questioning if you ever did something to make him lose interest in you.

you sighed, pulling the covers off you to prepare for the day. after showering and brushing your teeth, you headed to the kitchen to make lunch. the silent air greeting you as you walked through your shared apartment. you decided to make coffee for your husband, even if deep down you knew it would just grow cold. you wanted to show your affection for him somehow.

you took a sip of coffee from your cup, the bitterness lingering longer than usual. you glanced at the clock, seeing it was almost time for your therapy appointment.

it was your idea to attend couples’ therapy, seeing it as a last resort to salvage your crumbling marriage. when you first suggested it to seungcheol, he was hesitant and weary about the idea of running to another person about your problems. but seeing that it would mean a lot to you, and he didn’t want to put up a fight, he agreed to give it a try.

you hadn’t seen seungcheol since the previous morning when he hastily left for work. bidding you goodbye with a tired smile when he left you alone in the kitchen. a small part of you was worried he had forgotten about the appointment, not wanting to be disappointed, so you decided to send him a text.

wifey <3: hi, just wanted to remind you about our appointment at 2 pm

you stared at the screen, fingers dancing anxiously as you awaited his response.

cheolie <3: yea, i'll meet u there

that was it. no greeting, no apology for not coming home the night before. you pursed your lips at his response. feeling somewhat disappointed with his nonchalance. you convinced yourself that he was preoccupied with his career, too busy to send you a proper response. but nevertheless you decided to brush it off, tucking your phone in your bag as you got ready to head out.

when you arrived at the clinic, you couldn’t help but glance around the waiting area to find a glimpse of your husband. but to your dismay, you were the first one to arrive. you took a seat in one of the empty chairs, scrolling mindlessly through your phone in an attempt to ignore the tightening feeling in your chest.

exactly a minute before the clock struck 2, the doors swung open, and seungcheol walked in. his hair was messy, bags surrounded his eyes, and his shoulders slumped. he looked like hell, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was affecting him more than it was affecting you. his eyes landed on you and he made his way towards you, sinking in the seat beside you.

“hey.” he said softly, eyes barely meeting yours. hearing his voice reminded you how much you missed him.

“hi.” your eyes scanning him. you heart fluttered at the proximity between the two of you. you weren’t sure whether you were just touch deprived or you just missed your husband too much–it was probably a mix of both–but the thought of having him close to you made your head slightly dizzy. your mouth opened to speak but decided against it. you wanted to tell him that you were glad he made it and how much it mattered to you. but words felt too heavy to speak, so you enjoyed the silent company he provided instead.

the therapist’s door opened, and a nurse emerged, calling his and yours’ last name. you both stood up, walking inside the room side-by-side, hands almost grazing each other.

you and seungcheol settled on the couch in front of the therapist. she offered you a soft smile, eyes flicking between the two of you.

“hi, mr. and mrs. choi. how are you two feeling today?” she asked, her tone gently with a hint of curiosity.

your eyes shifted to seungcheol, wanting to see if he would speak first. he shifted in his seat, clearing his throat. “it’s been… a busy week.” he let out, eyes glancing between you and the therapist.

your lips formed into a frown, fingers fiddling with each other. “it has been tough. recently i’ve been feeling like we’ve been living separate lives despite sharing the same space.” you forced yourself to speak, the words falling out of your mouth before you could even comprehend them. “i’m afraid that if we let it happen for too long, we might lose each other in the process.”

you could feel seungcheol’s gaze on you, his once tired eyes growing soft from taking you in. he could tell you were extremely upset, your lips quivering and your hands playing with one another–which you only did when you were visibly upset. he wanted to reach for your hand, to provide you with comfort. but his cowardness was taking over him.

she leaned forward, her voice soft but firm. “i see. this must be incredibly difficult for both of you.” her eyes flickered between the two of you. “if you both want to reconnect, we need to address the emotional and physical barrier forming between you.”

you felt a lump form in your throat at her words. you glanced at seungcheol only to find him staring at you. his expression was guarded and unreadable. you felt tiny under his gaze, not used to the intensity of his eyes on you.

the therapist cleared her throat, drawing both of your attention to her. “the effort you two took to meet me today is a sign that you both want to save this relationship, but it seems that there’s a lot of distance–both emotional and physical.” you shifted in your seat at her words. you couldn’t deny the truth; it had been a while since you had a proper conversation with seungcheol, let alone a moment of intimacy. “when was the last time you two… shared a moment of true closeness?” her question was left open. still, you and seungcheol know her meaning was leading to one thing.

your cheeks burned slightly at the thought of it. it had been months since you last shared a bed, weeks since he last held you close; you couldn’t even remember the last time you had sex. you glanced at your husband, wondering if he felt the same embarrassment or if the thought of this issue would bring him back to you.

seungcheol let out a breath he didn't know he was holding, a hand rummaging through his hair. “i-i don’t know, it has been a while.” he admitted, voice so soft you barely caught on to what he was saying. “i’ve been too caught up with stuff at work, i don’t think we’ve shared a bed in a while.” hearing him admit your problems made your heart ache. he was capable of acknowledging his mistakes, yet he made no effort to correct them.

she gave you both a sympathetic look. “it’s not uncommon for couples under this kind of strain to lose touch emotionally and physically. often, intimacy is the first thing to slip, but it’s also one of the most important bridges to reconnecting. i’d like to encourage you both to try spending time together, maybe even share the same bed, and just… see how that feels.”

the suggestion lingered in the air. silence erupting from the two of you as you processed her words. glancing at seungcheol, whose gaze was fixated on the floor while it seemed like he was in deep thought. seungcheol lifted his head, facing you briefly, his eyes filled with vulnerability for the first time in a long time. you caught your bottom lip between your teeth, nodding at your therapist while sending her a soft smile.

the session ended with an agreement to try. hoping that the words you heard today were a head start to fixing your crumbling marriage.

seungcheol mentioned that he had to return to work but promised to be home early. without having a choice, you went separate ways and decided to go home. your heart was heavy on the drive home. you weren’t sure how he took the session today and all you wanted was to talk to him, to hold him, for him to remind you that everything would be okay and that he loved you.

as the afternoon turned into evening, you couldn’t help but pace around the apartment. you already tried everything to keep your mind off of what happened today, but it was nearly impossible. your habit of cleaning every surface took place, every inch of the house spotless as you awaited your husband’s return. even catching up on your favorite series couldn’t help you keep your mind at ease.

you found yourself checking your phone every so often, the time taunting you as it nearly reached 7 pm and there were still no signs of seungcheol. you sighed, feeling a twinge of disappointment form in your heart. not wanting to feel the empty space of the house any longer, you decided to get ready for bed.

after taking a shower and doing your skincare, exhaustion begins to seep through your body. you felt stupid, stupid to think that seungcheol wanted it to work as much as you did. you started to accept that maybe he no longer needed you, no longer felt the same affection he had for you when you first started going out.

you lay in bed, going under the covers as tears escaped your eyes. the memories of you and your husband’s early days haunting you, wondering where it all went wrong.

you hadn’t noticed that you cried yourself to sleep. the sound of rustling around awoke you from your slumber. with heavy eyes, you tried to make out the source of the noise.

“fuck.” seungcheol whispered as he dropped his phone that had his flashlight on as he tried to navigate the room in the dark.

“cheol?” you mumbled, hand rubbing your eye as you sat in bed. seungcheol turned to face you with an apologetic look on his face.

“y/n!” he said, surprised, guilty that he had woken you up. “did i wake you? i’m sorry, i was trying to find a change of clothes.”

you leaned over the bedside table, turning on the lamp to provide light for him. eyes secretly glancing at the time, seeing that it was only 8 pm. “don’t apologize, this is your room too.” you said, but it felt more like a reminder than a statement; it had been so long since he slept here with you.

without saying a word, he stepped towards the bed, sitting on the edge while his back faced you. his shoulders were tense; you could tell he had much on his mind.

you watched with worried eyes as he sighed before he turned to face you. “i’m sorry, y/n.” his gaze was soft, lips dry as he mustered up the courage to speak to you. you inched towards him in bed, sitting directly in front of his body that was turned to you. “i know i’ve been… absent these past couple of weeks, months even. and your head was probably filled with thoughts about what was going on, and i-“ he gulped, tears forming in his eyes. it had been so long since he opened his feelings to you since he looked at you with warm eyes and honesty. the nights you spent alone and mornings waking up next to an untouched bed flashed before you. “i was trying to prove something… to myself, to you.” he admitted, his eyes filled with shame and regret. still, you listened to his words intently. “i thought that if i kept my head down and focused on work, i could finally give us this picture-perfect life that you deserve. and i-i thought you’d be okay with waiting.”

you took a moment to register his words. your fingers absentmindedly fiddling with one another–which he caught. you hadn’t been okay. the loneliness swallowed you these past few months, and his physical distance from you only made it worse. you missed him. you missed his scent, his touch–his hand on your back as you slept, the feeling of his arms around your shoulders, the way he pulled you close in his sleep. you missed the feeling of his soft lips, the feeling of his hands on your body. it had been so long since you felt good.

“you have no idea how hard it’s been, seungcheol.” you started, voice almost trembling as you spoke. “going to bed alone, having no clue if you’d even come home to me. i felt like i was losing you, little by little.”

“god, no.” for the first time in forever, seungcheol reached for your hands instinctively. comfort rushing through your body by his touch. he held your hands tightly, his eyes pleading. “i thought i was doing this for us, y/n, but i was being so selfish. i pushed you away. i pushed us away.” his voice cracked, pain written all over his face. “i missed you. i missed everything about you. i missed us.” he admitted, his thumb gliding over your hands in an attempt to provide solace. “i didn’t want to fail you, y/n.”

his eyes shut, a tear slipping down his cheek. you reached out to cup his face, your thumb wiping away his tears. you felt him lean against your touch, making your heart ache. you couldn’t remember the last time he had been this vulnerable with you. you could see how deeply he felt the loss, even if he had hidden it from you.

seungcheol’s eyes fluttered opened, his voice barely above a whisper. “i promise i’ll make up for the lost time. i want to show you that i’m here and i’m sorry. you’re not losing me.”

his words impacted you harder than you had expected, providing you with both comfort and hurt. it felt silly to be so relieved by his simple promise. but after longing for him for so long, you couldn’t help it. it was exactly what you were waiting to hear. the assurance from him was more than enough to give you ease.

instead of saying anything, you leaned forward and rested your forehead against his. he exhaled softly at your touch. god, you missed him. it meant everything to you that he was here. actually here.

“cheol.” you mumbled, eyes shutting. “i missed you so much.”

you felt him nod lightly. “i know, angel.” hearing his pet name for you flooded you with warm memories. “i missed you, too. more than you could imagine.” his hand slid to the back of your neck. you pulled away from his forehead, eyes staring up at him as he rubbed the skin. slightly shivering at his touch as it reached down into the parts of you that had felt cold and empty for so long. “let me make up for the lost time.” his voice was deep as his gaze on you darkened.

your eyes fluttered open, gaze falling to his lips. you let your hands slide down his shoulder, almost pulling his body close to you. he leaned closer to you, his breath fanning your face, lips brushing against yours. you melted into his touch as he connected his lips with yours. your hands finding their way to his chest as the kiss deepened, feeling his heartbeat beneath your fingertips. it reminded you that he was actually here, and you weren’t alone as you had felt for all those months.

seungcheol wrapped his arms around your waist as he laid you on the bed, your back meeting the soft sheets as he climbed between your legs. his thigh rubbing against your core that was growing warm with his every touch. feeling the tension between you dissipate with each kiss and touch. the gap between the two of you shrinking as he showed you just how much he missed you.

his fingers made their way to the hem of your shirt, pulling away from your lips to tug the fabric off your body, leaving your upper half naked. he groaned at the sight of you, reminding him how much he missed seeing your body. “god, i missed you.” he whispered before leaning down and pressing his lips to yours. moaning when his hand slipped between your legs, hand cupping your pussy that was growing wet at his mere touch. your body craving him more than you anticipated.

“cheol, i need you.” you whimpered against his lips as his fingers traced over your clothed core. desperation lacing from your voice made him grow hard against his suit. feeling his hard-on against your thigh. your hands reached up to undo his tie before unbuttoning his shirt. he hovered over you to give you more access, sliding the shirt off once you were done. you shamelessly checked him out, running your fingers over his chiseled chest. you almost forgotten how much you loved his body.

seungcheol hooked his fingers around the waistband of your shorts and underwear. sliding them down your legs, feeling your arousal sticking to the fabric. in a swift movement, he inched his body down the bed until his head was in between your thighs, face dangerously close to your throbbing pussy. he took a whiff, your familiar scent welcoming him. “you smell amazing, baby.” his arm hooked around and over your thigh, pulling your body close to him. bringing two fingers up to your entrance, collecting your arousal, and spreading it up to your clit. “so wet and needy for me.”

you moaned at his touch, hips bucking upwards as you tried to get more friction but his grip around you prevented you from moving. he softly smiled at your state, wasting no time in pressing his tongue against your clit. you gasped, hand flying down to grip his hair.

seungcheol ran his tongue up and down your folds, lips sucking on your clit, occasionally flicking his tongue over the sensitive bud. the sudden movements had your back arching off the bed, hand gripping the sheets beneath you as his tongue lapped your hole. “f-feels so good.” you whimpered.

his free hand snaked around your body, his thumb circling your clit while his tongue fucked your entrance. the sensation driving you crazy as you let out curses. he knew your body all too well. he knew exactly how to push you over the edge even after all these months.

“my pretty girl. i bet your pussy was waiting for me, hm?” he hummed against your folds, the vibrations sending shocks throughout your body. you lifted your head to meet his gaze, his eyes flickering to yours. maintaining eye contact, he slipped his fingers down your core, abruptly inserting two of them inside you. you could barely let out words once you felt his digits curl inside you. he beamed once he saw you writhe beneath his touch, glad that you weren’t that disconnected from each other in every way.

seungcheol pressed his mouth against your clit, sucking on the bud as his fingers relentlessly fucked your hole. thrusting them in and out of you in addicting movements. your hips jerk up from the overwhelming pleasure. toes curling as you felt a knot form in your stomach.

“p-please, cheolie, i want to cum.” your voice shaking as he continued his movements. your hand reaching up to your breast, squeezing them as you felt your orgasm forming.

“let it out, angel.” he whispered against your clit, sucking on it harshly to the point tears fill your eyes. without warning, you came undone with his fingers in you, cursing his name. your insides clenching around his digits as his movements slowed down. you head thrown back against the mattress as you let out shaky breaths.

seungcheol detached his mouth from your clit, pulling his fingers away before entrapping them with his lips. savouring your cum to account for the many months that went by without tasting you. “my good girl.”

seungcheol kneeled between your legs, his cock hard against his stomach–you hadn’t even noticed he took his pants off. you lifted your head to face him, mouth watering at the sight. nearly forgetting how big and thick his cock was. you wrapped your fingers around his length, pumping it lightly before stroking it. his hips inching towards you as he leaned into your touch. your thumb running over his tip that was leaking with precum. you looked at him through your lashes, but his eyes were already dark and focused on you.

“fuck, baby.” he grunted once you jerked him off, but his hand reached for your wrist to prevent your movement. “stop teasing, princess. i need my cock inside your pussy.” his confession made sparks shoot throughout your body and onto your cunt.

seungcheol positioned his body between your legs, gripping his cock in one hand, aligning it with your entrance. you couldn’t help the moans that escaped your lips as he glided the tip of his cock along your folds, spreading your wetness before sinking into you. you gasped at the size of his length. your fingernails digging (careful not to hurt him) into his shoulders as you adjusted to his size.

“i know, baby.” his voice soothed you, hushing you as tears threatened to escape your eyes. fuck, you forgot how his dick felt inside you. “you’re taking me so well, angel.” he pressed kisses all over your face.

once he was balls deep in you, he stayed still for a moment. letting you get used to the sensation, he reached for your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours.

“m-move, please.” your voice barely a whisper. “you’re so big, cheolie.”

seungcheol growled at your words, slowly starting to move his hips. “missed your pussy, baby.” you felt every inch of his cock in you, insides splitting from his size. your insides burning, but it felt so fucking good. you bucked your hips, meeting his thrusts.

he took this as a sign to gradually increase his speed, his hips rocking into you faster. your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, pulling him even closer to you, scared that if you let go, he’ll disappear again.

the proximity allowing him to bury his cock deeper into you. in a swift motion, he pulled his cock out before slamming his hips against yours. sounds of skin slapping filling the room, along the moans that emit from you and the groans that escape his throat. he buried his face into your neck, leaving soft kisses against the skin.

“you feel so fucking good, shit.” his hand sneaked to your breast, taking your nipple in between his fingers, circling the sensitive bud. the rough pad of his thumb and index adding to the overwhelming pleasure. “fuck, i’m never leaving you alone ever again.”

you don’t know if it was his words or the pleasure from his cock that brought tears to your eyes. he pulled away from your neck, towering over you as he held eye contact with you. “my pretty wife, i love you so much.”

“i-i love you, cheol.” you breathed out, feeling him twitch inside you from your confession. the words felt foreign from your lips, but the feeling was reeling in so many memories. he picked up his pace again, relentlessly fucking you as if to remind you that he’s here now.

seungcheol leaned forward, capturing your lips with his. the kiss was more passionate and needy, his taste leaving you intoxicated. his hand inching down to your clit, rubbing circles on the nub. the stimulation building your orgasm even more. he knew you were getting close when you clenched around him, driving him to fuck into you deeper and harder.

“are you gonna cum for me, angel?” his voice deep as he watched you squirm underneath his touch. he latched his lips to your chest, sucking on the skin softly, enough to surely leave a mark. the overwhelming amount of pleasure he was providing was enough to drive you insane. the coil in your stomach begging to be released. “cum all over my cock, baby, let me feel you.” with the encouragement of his words, you released all over his cock. stars clouding your vision as you ride out your high. “s-shit, baby.” the sight of you cumming on his cock was enough to send seungcheol over the edge. with a few final thrusts, his warm seed burst inside you, painting your walls white, groans filling the room.

seungcheol slowly retreated his cock from you, his cum spilling from your pussy. you winced at the sticky feeling. he pressed a quick kiss on your forehead before he disappeared into the bathroom and grabbed a towel which he ran under cold water. he returned and immediately nursed you, dragging the towel up and down your entrance which made you giggle.

“thank you.” you mumbled as he went to return the towel in the bathroom.

“anything for my beautiful wife.” seungcheol grabbed a shirt from the closet, handing it to you because he knew how much you loved wearing his shirts to bed. even helping you slip it on your body. your heart warmed at the sight of him taking care of you. you barely noticed that he climbed into bed and pulled you close to his chest. “i told you, i’ll make it up to you, my love.” he whispered, pressing a kiss on the side of your head.

you could only nod at his words, feeling slumber take over you. hearing him whisper how much he loved you before falling unconscious.

you woke up to the warmth of a body shifting beside you, feeling the familiar weight of your husband’s arm around your waist. the soft morning light greeted you as you opened your eyes. you glanced at his sleeping figure, taking in the sight of his relaxed face, lashes resting against cheeks and lips slightly parted. he was still here. your heart was pounding so loudly that you were sure he'd hear it if he were awake.

your hand reached up to brush away the strands of hair falling onto his face. but before you could do so, his eyes fluttered open, a soft smile forming on his lips as he focused on you.

“g’morning.” seungcheol mumbled, voice deep and husky, still laced with sleep.

“good morning.” you responded, unable to hide the chipper in your voice. you rested your hand on his bare chest, rubbing the skin comfortingly, slightly scared that you were in a dream.

his hand fell to your back, pulling your body close to him. “i meant it, you know.” he whispered, his thumb rubbing circles along your back. “i don’t want us to fall apart again.”

your chest tightened at his words, but this time, the ache was different–it was hopeful. “neither do i.” leaning your head against his neck, softly kissing the skin.

“you have me forever, baby.” he said, a promise that felt as grounding as his touch on your body.

you closed your eyes, letting the warmth of his embrace engulf you. comfortable silence taking over as you lay there in each other’s arms. you both knew this was just the start of finding your way back to one another.

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wandaslittlebird · 3 months ago

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Pendulum

Wanda x Reader, WandaNat x Reader

After a session with Wanda the prior evening, you wake up alone in your bed and find you’re a bit more reliant on her than you’d like to be.

CW: Sub drop, (kinda) panic attack, mood swings, guilt, Mommy Kink, mentions of spanking, established WandaNat (no cheating), pills (Tylenol and Xanax), Wanda generally being a protective and worried mama

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: I may know hardly anything about dom drop, but I’m ✨well versed✨ in sub drop. I honestly think this one is adorable and I hope you all enjoy.

A/N: I wasn’t doing this consciously, but reading this back I realize I kinda did a reverse YAIL, so, if you haven’t already, go check out that series by @wandasaura

Fic based on this request

You woke up in a cold sweat, gasping for air before your head even left the pillow. It was hard to find anything to ground you in your dark bedroom, but with the help of your stuffed bear, Francis, and some breathing exercises you’d been working on in therapy, you were able to calm down at least enough to breathe. Still, you found yourself dizzy, nauseous, in pain, and, perhaps most excruciatingly, alone.

Wanda. Where was Wanda? Where was your mommy? You needed mommy.

“Mommy?” You cried quietly into the empty room. But she wasn’t there. Of course she wasn’t there. She was at home, tucked peacefully into bed with Natasha, her wife. And you were here, in your cold, empty apartment, all alone.

You turned to look at the clock on your bedside table. 1:30 am. It was far too late to call her. She had to get up for work in a couple hours. You had to get up for class in a couple hours.

But god, you needed her. You needed just to hear her voice. Everything felt so empty without her here. Your brain felt like it was underwater. You couldn’t think. It felt like your mind was strapped to a pendulum, swinging back and forth between extremes. It’s like half of your mind was begging for Wanda while the other half scolded you for your over-reliance. You wanted her, but you didn’t want to want her. It was hyper-dependence clashing with hyper-independence in an internal battle that left you dazed and confused.

Just call her, you thought. She told you to call her if this ever happened.

You’d been her submissive for months, and, though you’d never actually experienced sub drop with her, the two of you had discussed it extensively. “You can call me at any time,” she’d said. “Even if it's been days. I’m here for you in any way you need me.”

You grabbed your phone from the nightstand, pulling up her contact and hovering over the call button. But before you could press it, the pendulum swung back. You hurled the phone into your beanbag on the other side of the room.

What are you thinking? You can’t call her. She’s not your fucking girlfriend. You’re so reliant on her and she doesn’t even care about you. Leave her alone. This is your mess. Handle it.

You sighed, dragging your aching body off of your mattress. Everything hurt. The wounds she’d so loving inflicted the night before ached even more than they had when they were fresh. You wanted, needed, to feel her soft hands massaging soothing balm into your skin like they had only hours prior. But no.

Wanda. Wasn’t. Here.

It was just you and you alone. You needed to take care of this. You needed to pull yourself together and handle this on your own. You felt like you might be sick. The swinging of this pendulum was nauseating. You dragged yourself to the bathroom, pulling two Tylenol and a Xanax from the medicine cabinet. You sat on the toilet, tucking your head between your knees.

You didn’t understand what was happening. Or rather, you didn’t understand why it was happening. Wanda had done everything perfectly, just like she always did. She’d insisted you stay with her until you were out of subspace and your mind was clear again. She’d given you all the cuddles and love and reassurance you could possibly want. She’d even rubbed that soothing lotion on your sore ass despite the fit you’d pitched about it. This shouldn’t be happening. She’d done everything she was supposed to do. You were the problem.

You moved from the bathroom to your living room, pacing anxious circles until you worried the neighbors would complain. Then you decided on a walk.

A little walk to clear your head. That should help. No need to bother Wanda. You could take care of this by yourself.

—————

A little over two blocks proved you could not, in fact, take care of this by yourself. You found yourself collapsed on a bench outside your favorite coffee shop, her contact pulled up on your phone, sobbing as your thumb hovered over the call button.

You clicked it, anxiously awaiting an answer through the dial tone. Every second without an answer was a battle not to hit the red button, and smash your phone on the ground so you wouldn’t be tempted to try this again.

“Hello?” You heard, not Wanda, but Natasha’s sleep addled voice.

You silently cursed, debating hanging up the phone and forgetting the whole endeavor. You had very limited experience in dealing with Natasha. Where Wanda was warm and inviting, Natasha was cold and intimidating. Wanda had told you once that Natasha had a soft spot for you, but you remained unconvinced any of Natasha’s spots were “soft”.

Wanda had explained to you that Natasha’s had submissives of her own, but she tended to prefer brats, submissives who needed a harsher hand. “It’s not that she doesn’t like you,” Wanda had explained, “she’s just not used to sweet little girls like you.”

Still, the woman terrified you. And she definitely was NOT the one you wanted to be speaking to right now. But you took a deep breath, and answered her. “H-hello, Miss Natasha. C-can I speak to Wanda?” You stammered. You couldn’t keep the tears and desperation out of your voice when you added a “…please.”

“Y-yeah, sure honey. Just a second let me get her up,” she responded tiredly.

Your heart shattered at the thought of Natasha rousing a peaceful Wanda from her sleep just because you couldn’t get yourself together. But all such thoughts faded when you heard her voice through the phone. “Angel? Is that you? Is everything okay? Are you hurt? What’s going on?”

“Mommy…” you said tearfully. “I’m okay. I promise I’m okay, I just… I don’t know what’s happening. I mean I’m dropping, I know, but… I don’t know. I just needed so badly to hear you and talk to you. I’m sorry for waking you up. I’m so sorry. I know you said….” You were rambling breathlessly, but Wanda soon cut you off.

“Breathe for me, little love,” she instructed softly. “Three deep breaths. In and out. Can you do that for me, angel?”

You nodded despite knowing she couldn’t see you over the phone. You took three audible breaths, calming yourself down.

“Good girl,” she praised. “Now, can you tell me what’s happening?”

“I… I… Sub drop, I think,” you explained. “But like, really bad.”

“Aww,” she cooed. “I’m so sorry, my little love. Can you explain to me what you're feeling? Are you in pain? Do you need company?”

“I just… I don’t know why this is happening to me,” you cried. “Everything hurts so bad. My head feels like it’s spinning. And… And my body is so sore. It’s never happened like this with you before. You did everything so perfectly. I just don’t understand why I’m being like this.”

“Sub drop can happen no matter what, honey. And I’m so sorry it’s happening to you, sweetheart. Do you need to come back over?” She asked.

You pondered her question, the pendulum inside of you swinging violently. You felt like you were being torn in half between admitting you needed her help, and feeling defeated and weak that you couldn’t handle it on your own. But eventually you remembered it didn’t really matter. You made your choice when you took the Xanax. You weren’t going anywhere now. “I-I took some medicine. I can’t drive. I’m sorry,” you admitted.

“What medicine?” She asked, panicked. “Did you take too much? Are you okay?”

“It was just a Xanax. Just one. Just like I take for school sometimes,” you reassured.

You heard her breathe a sigh of relief on the other end of the line. “Okay, sweetheart. I’m sorry I panicked. You know I just worry sometimes. I tell you what, Nat and I are going to get you an Uber, and then you can spend the rest of the night here, okay?”

“Wanda, you don’t have to-“ You didn’t use her real name very often given the exclusively sexual nature of your relationship, but you needed her to know she wasn’t responsible for being your dominant right now. She was Wanda, and you were you: two grown adults. She didn’t have any obligation to take care of you right now, in the middle of the night on a Wednesday.

“But I want to, darling,” she interrupted. “Is that okay?”

“Y-yeah, but I’m not at the house right now.”

You heard her breath catch. “Where are you, honey? You promise me you’re safe?”

“I-I’m just at the coffee shop,” you explained. “I wanted to take a walk, b-but I didn’t make it very far.”

Wanda sighed. She’d have to have a little talk with you about walking all by yourself in the middle of the night. But not right now. Right now she just needed you in her arms as quickly as she could have you. “Alright, love. You’ve got a car on its way. Just stay on the phone with me until it gets there, okay?”

“O-okay.”

—————

The car was there within five minutes of Wanda’s order. Most of that time was just filled with tears and mumbled apologies on your end, and reassurance and encouragement on hers.

She waited anxiously by the front door for you to arrive, peeking out of the blinds with every set of headlights that passed by. She clutched her robe tight against her chest. If you were there, you would’ve teased her about her anxious habit. You always said she was “practically clutching her pearls.”

When you finally pulled into the driveway, she was standing in the front door frame before you could even get out of the car.

“Mommy!” You ran up to her, nearly tripping on the front porch steps on your way in. You were even more hysterical now that you were seeing her in person. Something about the sight of her made you fall apart. You felt safe now. You were going to fall, and she was going to catch you, and everything was going to be okay.

“Careful, love,” she chided, taking you into her arms. “Mommy’s got you. It’s okay. You’re okay. I’m gonna take care of you and I’m not gonna let anything bad happen to you.”

It sounded more like she was reassuring herself than anything, but her words still washed over you like a wave of relief. “I missed you, mommy.”

“I know you did, angel,” she said, kissing you on the temple. “Mommy missed you, too.”

She wrapped her arms just under your ass, still sore and super sensitive from your activities earlier that night. She picked you up, wrapping your legs around your waist. You squeaked in a mixture of surprise and pain.

“I’m sorry, baby. I know you’re sore. I’ll be gentle,” she cooed. “Let’s get you to bed. Tasha will be waiting for us.”

You just cried, burying your face into Wanda’s neck as she carried you up the stairs. You couldn’t talk anymore. You were so completely exhausted, mentally and physically. But it was okay. You had your mommy and everything was going to be okay. The bedroom door was already open, and, as Wanda had expected, Natasha was sat up against the headboard.

“Is that a little angel I see there?” You heard Natasha ask. Wanda sat you on her lap at the end of the bed, bending down to take off your shoes.

You peaked your eyes out from Wanda’s neck before perching your chin on her shoulder. “Hi Miss Natasha,” you sniffled. “I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“That’s alright, little angel,” she assured, sliding closer to you and Wanda on the bed. She looked so much kinder than usual, soft sleepy eyes smiling at you through your tears. “Is it okay if I touch you?”

You nodded, still teary eyed and snotty on Wanda’s lap while she unlaced your shoes.

Natasha cupped your cheek, wiping away stray tears. “It must’ve been so scary to start dropping without your mommy there, huh?” Her touch was unexpectedly gentle, as were her words. Maybe Wanda was right, maybe she really did have a soft spot for you.

You nodded, trying to speak but only managing to whimper a “mhm.” You blushed a little with embarrassment. Wanda must’ve told her all about your situation. You wondered momentarily if she thought your behavior was overblown or ridiculous, but if she did, her gentle face showed no indication.

“But now you’ve got your mommy and everything’s gonna be okay, right?”

You nodded again. “I-I hope you don’t mind if I steal your wife for a little bit for-for some extra snuggles.”

“Not at all little angel.” Natasha smiled softly. She could see your anxious embarrassment, and decided, despite her inexperience with soft subs, she’d make an attempt to soothe you. She knew she wasn't expected to, but she found herself desperate to make you feel better, even if it was only a little bit. “Your mommy could hardly stop bragging about you tonight, you know?”

“Re-really?” You asked. Natasha could see the tiniest little twinkle in your teary eyes.

“Really,” she confirmed. “She told me she was so proud of her sweet girl for calling her, because that must’ve been so scary for her, to call in the middle of the night. She knows you don’t like to wake people up, and asking for help when you need it is so so hard. And I said ‘wow, it sounds like you have the bravest little angel in the whole world. I think she deserves some extra special snuggles from mommy tonight, for being so brave.’”

“Y-you really think so?” you asked bashfully, hiding back in Wanda’s neck.

“I really do,” she confirmed. “And you know your mommy keeps her phone on silent in the nighttime. But she cares about you so much she has a special setting so it rings just for you.”

You smiled. Your heart fluttered, not only at the idea Wanda had her phone on for you, but also at the thought that Natasha must’ve known it was you before she answered. “I-I thought you might be mad at me,” you confessed. “Cause you and-and mommy were probably all snuggled up in bed and I came in and messed it all up!”

Natasha stroked your cheek as she shook her head. “No angel. Never. You could never mess up one of our snuggles by asking to be a part of it. We’re both so proud of you, for calling and getting help.”

“P-promise?” You asked.

Natasha held out her pinky, which you wrapped with your own. “Promise.” She confirmed.

Wanda finally got your shoes off and placed them on the floor next to the bed. “Okay little love,” she announced, easing your pajama pants down around your knees. “I’m gonna get some of the nice lotion again, okay?” She’d already put a little on earlier, but she figured it would probably do quite a bit to soothe your current pains, both physically and emotionally.

You wrapped yourself around her, refusing to let her move. You didn’t need silly lotion, you needed her. You whined at the prospect of having to let go.

Natasha giggled and sat down next to Wanda. “Do you want me to do your lotion while you hang onto mommy?”

You nodded, sending her into the next room. Wanda kissed your temple. “I told you she likes you.”

“I’m so spoiled,” you mumbled blissfully into her neck.

“You deserve it, angel,” she said.

Natasha returned to the room with the bottle of lotion. She approached you and rubbed your back gently. “Alright little angel, is it okay if I touch your bottom, or do you want mommy to do that part?”

You pondered for a moment. On one hand, having Wanda do it would mean getting to lay over her lap again. But, you found yourself inexplicably excited by the thought of Natasha putting your lotion on. Maybe, if you played your cards right, you could have the best of both worlds.

“You can do it, Miss Natasha,” you said while flipping yourself over to lay over Wanda’s lap.

“Oh,” Wanda squeaked in pleasant surprise. From this position she could’ve just as easily applied the lotion. She was pleased to know that you wanted Natasha to do it, though. She pulled up your shirt and rubbed your back.

“Okay, it’s gonna be a little cold,” Natasha advised, giggling a little bit when you jumped at the cool liquid anyway. Her hands were so gentle as she soothed your raw skin. You wondered if she was this gentle with her subs as well. “All done. Do you want a kiss?”

You nodded, feeling so completely at ease with the two women taking care of you. Natasha placed a gentle kiss to each of your red ass cheeks.

“Does Tasha’s kisses make it feel all better?” Wanda asked.

You nodded into Wanda’s thigh.

“I’m glad I could help,” Natasha giggled, placing the lotion on Wanda’s nightstand so it’d be ready for you again in the morning. She crawled back into bed, making herself comfortable on her side.

Wanda placed you face down on her own side of the bed, trying not to disturb you too much as she slid her legs out from under your body. She crawled over you, placing herself in the middle between you and Natasha, pulling you tight into her side.

You laid your head on her chest, catching a glimpse of Natasha’s pretty smile in the low lighting. She really didn’t look like she minded you being here at all. In fact, she looked happy.

In your fuzzy haze, you waved at her from across the bed.

Wanda and Natasha both giggled, hearts swelling at the innocence of the gesture. You just wanted Natasha to feel included, and what better way to acknowledge her presence than with a kind wave hello.

Natasha waved back. “Hi, little angel,” she said, reaching over Wanda to pinch your cheek.

You looked up at Wanda, your big eyes gently pleading. “Mommy, do you think I could sleep on your other side so I can be closer to Miss Natasha?”

Wanda smiled giddily. She never expected such a request from you, but she was more than happy to oblige. She was overjoyed to see your relationship with Natasha growing. “Of course, sweet girl,” she said, effortlessly flipping you over to her other side.

“You know, you don’t have to call her Miss Natasha,” Wanda said. You’d always called her that since you’d first met her without any prompting to do so. She certainly didn’t mind, but Wanda had always secretly hoped you’d get past the formality. There was nothing she wanted more than for her two favorite people to love each other as much as she loved them. “I bet she’d like it if you called her daddy. Only if you wanted to.”

You faced Natasha, who looked surprised at the proposal, but nodded.

“I thought only your subs were allowed to call you that?” You said, equally shocked by Wanda’s words.

“Hmm…” she pretended to ponder the question. “For my little angel I think I can make an exception.”

You smiled. “In that case,” you pressed a small kiss to her cheek. “Goodnight daddy.” You turned back to Wanda, placing a kiss on her jaw as you snuggled back into her chest. “Goodnight mommy. I love you.”

“Sweet dreams, little angel,” Natasha said, wrapping herself up behind you.

“Get some rest, little love,” Wanda said, kissing your head.

And finally, the pendulum stopped swinging.

Taglist (ha I remembered this time): @boredandneedsfanfic @marvelwomenarehot0

#wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda x y/n #wanda x you #mommy wanda #mommy!wanda #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x y/n #wandanat x reader #wandanat #natasha x reader #natasha romanov #wandanat x you #wandanat x y/n #anon request

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hmusunoo · 3 months ago

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𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍'𝐒 𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐒!

(✶) - smut

(♥) - series

ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ ᴅᴀʏ ᴇᴛɪqᴜᴇᴛᴛᴇ (ᴘ.ꜱʜ) (✶) - @simpjaes

▏Park Sunghoon is not dull, nor is he the clean cut neighbor your mother thinks he is. Oh, the horrors of if she found out that the man she set you up on this date with immediately took you home and rendered you unable to walk...he'd never be able to defend himself without a swift slap to the head.

ʙᴜᴛ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ɪꜰ ᴘʜᴏɴᴇ ꜱᴇx ᴡɪᴛʜ ꜱᴜɴɢʜᴏᴏɴ! (ᴘ.ꜱʜ) (✶) - @munivrse

▏phone sex. kinda public. mutual masturbation, mentions of breeding, face fucking, degradation & praise sandwiches, reader cums once, sunghoon is a whore so he cums twice.

ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴀʙʟᴇ (ꜱ. ᴊʏ) (✶) - @heehoonies

▏you and sim jaeyun have been academic rivals for as long as you can remember, competing intensely to beat the other in every class you've ever shared. for years, you've hidden your feelings for him, burying them deep down where jake can't find them, and you're hellbent on ensuring he never discovers your secret.

ʏᴏᴜ % ʜᴇᴇꜱᴇᴜɴɢ (ʟ. ʜꜱ) - @postalenha

▏heeseung’s new gaming console has been a hinder to your relationship. but you know better, and tries to understand that he’s just enjoying the new equipment he worked so hard to have.

ᴘᴀꜱꜱᴇɴɢᴇʀ ᴘʀɪɴᴄᴇꜱꜱ (ꜱ. ᴊʏ) (✶) - @cupcakedkiss

▏Your boyfriends job was dangerous, you knew this. Putting his life at risk every night at exactly 12 am had never been ordinary to you, thus never stopping you from being his passenger princess.

ꜱᴀꜱꜱʏ (ᴘ. ᴊꜱ) - @jaysng

▏jay trying to re-gain his drama queen daughter’s attention after she got mad at him.

ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ, ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ, ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ (ᴘ. ᴊꜱ) (✶) - @ja3yun

▏visiting your tax fraudulent dad in prison and nothing was new, except the boy being carted in to the police station in cuffs. when you follow your connection on a reckless whim, it opens you up to a world filled with crime, love, and realisations about who you are.

ɢᴇᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ʙᴇᴛᴛᴇʀ (ᴘ.ꜱʜ) (✶) - @i2sunric

▏just like eva did in the garden of eden, you fell under the serpent's court and now are under his spell. you knew you shouldn't betray your boyfriend, jake, like that when he was (not) so right for you, but seeing that he spent more time out for work made you seek the love and affection you needed, and who if not sunghoon could give you what you deserved?

ᴍᴇʟᴛɪɴɢ ᴘᴏɪɴᴛ (ᴘ.ꜱʜ) (✶) (♥) - @ja3yun

▏when circumstances unexpectedly bring you and your brother's long-time ice skating rival, park sunghoon, together, you discover a surprising connection. However, your brother forbids any relationship between you. Will you heed his advice or follow your heart?

ꜰᴀʟʟᴇɴ ꜱᴛᴀʀ (ꜱ. ᴊʏ) (✶) (♥) - @h5eavenly

▏after being fired and blacklisted from the entertainment industry your life is on the verge of falling apart. An opportunity arises to save you when you get a job offer to work as a personal assistant for ex lead singer of the rock band PARANOIA! and now turned model, nicknamed the nation’s sweetheart- Jake Sim. However his image crumbles quickly when you discover he’s nothing but the devil in disguise.

ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ꜰʀᴀɢɪʟᴇ ᴛʜɪɴɢ (ᴘ.ꜱʜ) - @stllmnstr

▏After an ankle injury lands you in mandated physical therapy sessions instead of on the ice where you should be training for nationals, you're absolutely certain you must be the most frustrated, emotionally volatile figure skater on the planet. Park Sunghoon proves you wrong.

ʙʀᴇᴀᴋ ᴛʜᴇ ɪᴄᴇ (ꜱ. ᴊʏ) - @jaylver

▏Punching a guy in the club then kissing him not long after at a hockey game wasn't exactly a fairytale, but for you, it was your reality. The worst part of all it wasn't even the incidents that happened, but the fact that you didn't know him or his name. That was until another stir of events that happened which caused you and him to actually meet, so what was the best way to break the ice after a disastrous punch and a shocking kiss together? A date. It could be love at first sight, or more accurately, it was love at first punch, or … kiss?

disclaimer - if any of the mentioned authors do not wish to be on this list and want to be removed please dm me and ill remove it! This is just a appreciation post (:

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wifeyoozi · 6 months ago

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svt reaction another member walking in on you having sex

Ot13 seventeen : getting walked on by other member. (ft. traumatised svt) so much fun writing this it's so funny and shitty

Seungcheol : throws a pillow in the direction of the door before the person even gets the slightest peek. (Soonyoung just wanted a charger but somehow ended up with a pillow bruised blue eye)

Jeonghan : (hoping that you're adequately covered) he just doesn't something to make you moan louder hoping that the person leaves disgusted (or joins for a threesome, hani doesn't mind) (hao is too traumatised to even think he's going for intense green tea and therapy session now)

Joshua : he's a teeny tiny bit of exhibitionist so it was a bit of a turn on when someone accidentally walked in on you two doing the nasty in the wildest postions (seokmin took 3 business days to overcome that trauma and meet Joshua's eyes normally again)

Jun : he's probably too lost moaning into the crook of your neck to notice an unexpectant visitor (Wonwoo is never entering doors without knocking ever again)

Hoshi : just freezes in his spot midthrust, hurrying to cover you up and yelling at the person who just came in (jihoon did no crime to be sentenced to hear the kinky shit soonyoung is into in the beds)

Wonwoo : if dino is too deaf to hear the loudest fucking sex noises coming from Wonwoo's room, it's completely his fault, Wonwoo ain't doing nothing to pay his therapy

Woozi : probably got caught making love in his studio. Luckily, he has the decency of fucking you into the couch which is out of the view of the door than shamelessly on his deskchair how he initially wanted (seungcheol didn't need to know where all of jihoon's inspo comes from)

Minghao : probably the only smart one of the group who actually locks door before getting frisky.

Mingyu : he is rather petrified by getting caught, yelling at his hyung to leave. (Jeonghan never told anyone but if he teased mingyu to this date about how he moans your name, it's between the bros)

Seokmin : flustered af and just frozen at his spot even after the person instantly leaves until you smack him and tell him to lock the door (seungkwan would have never guessed the crazy of the group was such a freak in bed and he wished he lived without that knowledge)

Seungkwan : embarrassed thoroughly. Now vernon has to live his life knowing what seungkwan sounds like in bed.

Vernon : probably doesn't notice? Lol he just busy getting that nut (rip hong joshua's eyes)

Dino : he prolly switches off all the lights and does the deed under the blanket so someone could come inside, stroll around and not bother him (mingyu got lucky wearing them headphones the day he came to borrow chan's power bank)

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i-am-hungry-24-7 · 7 months ago

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[Hey, how are you?] Simon Riley*F!Reader

Ten years ago, Simon lost you due to his mistake, and he meets you again after these years of regret.

Hurt and comfort, Happy Ending

“Are you married?”

He always be asked when others see the ring on his finger.

“No.” He answers while taking another sip of his wine, letting the person realize it’s a topic they don’t have the authority to dig in.

He still remembers the vow he chanted as he put the ring on your finger.

The memory is as clear as the day you left the house, and he never saw you again.

It’s his fault, you didn’t shed many tears when he yelled at you, saying that you will never be able to free him from his nightmares, who do you think you are? a fucking philanthropist?

He knew he screwed up everything the moment his taunt escape his mouth.

No, No. I didn’t mean to say that, I need you, I love you, please don’t leave me.

He watched you lower your head, trying in vain to hide your sadness, but your heart was already shattered into pieces, by him, the man who promised to protect you by any means.

I’m sorry.

The words stuck in his throat when he looked at you stepping out the threshold with your belongings.

Please stay.

The greedy wish was buried inside his heart when you stopped for a second. “Bye, Simon. Take care.” you whispered, and disappeared into the aisle.

Ten years, he’s still unable to move on.

He brainwashes himself repeatedly, she will have a better life without you.

Yet he still opens his phone every time he finishes his therapy sessions, looks at your number, and just stares at the screen for minutes.

His thumb lingers on the “call” button but never dares to press it.

Hey, are you doing alright? I’m sorry, I want you back. I went to therapy after that day. I’m not the same person caged in his past anymore.

I miss you so much.

but how selfish he is if he interrupts your life now? Such a nice person like you deserves someone to cherish you nicely, and treasure you with their whole heart.

That’s why he now stands afar from you, watching you behind the veil of autumn’s breeze.

You’re still stunning, time doesn’t deprive your beauty even a bit.

He gazes at you for a long while, and when you turn around and spot him, it’s obvious that you’re in shock and come to a halt.

The world keeps moving, but the time seems frozen between you two, as you both set eyes on each other and never dart.

You head towards him as he starts hesitating to take the first move.

“Hey.” You look at him with a shallow grin on your face.

“Hey.” He mumbles.

The silence fills the air, but no awkwardness, he’s just too indulged in your presence, which he has been dreaming of for years.

Sorry for that day. How are you doing now? Have you married? Have a partner?...

He has too many things he wants to ask, but his thoughts are like matted wool, until his eyes land on the ring on your finger.

“You’re marrie—“ He questions without a second thought, but the words get cut off instantly due to his realization.

because the ring is paired with the one on his finger right now.

It’s not until you chuckle that he’s back to reality.

“Yes, I’m married, about ten years ago? to an idiot man.”

“Why did you marry him? he’s a bloody dork.”

“Good question. or maybe that’s the reason why I married him.” Shrugging, you then meet his gaze with a smile “How about you? Are you married?”

“Yeah, ten years ago, to a woman that’s too precious for me, so I lost her.”

“If you meet her again, what do you want to tell her?”

“I’ve improved. I’ve reached for help and now I’m not the same man anymore.”

“Anything else you want to say?”

“I miss her every single day, and I hope I can have her in my arms again.”

“Well, I don’t know about her.” you step closer to him. “But I’m sure she will love to have some tea with you as her first compensation from you, what do you think?”

He blinks at the hand you reach out at him, and slowly, he takes it into his palms, that’s befitting to drive away the chill.

Your hand fits well in his, like it’s made for him to serve it with all his warmth, and he’s sure that he will never let go of it again.

“My pleasure.”

a/n: lemme give Simon a fucking punch/j

#cod imagine #ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #cod x reader #simon riley imagine #cod x you #ghost x you #simon ghost riley x you #simon 'ghost' riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader

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mypoisonedvine · 1 year ago

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𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 || dark!jonathan crane x reader

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

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 || 5.5k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I— I don't—" you stammered.

"Say it," he ordered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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