I know ur SWAMPED with requests but if you can fit this in at some point...
Ftm reader pegs Hannibal Lecter.
Something new
Hannibal Lecter x ftm!reader
⚠︎Cannibalism, pegging, top reader⚠︎
☢︎︎Minors and girls do not interact☢︎︎
☞︎︎︎Hannibal is deeply in love with his boyfriend. And he wants to try something new in the bedroom. So he decided to surprise Y/n with a candlelit house and a medium box.☜︎︎︎
✍︎1520
Hannibal has been in love.
Many times. But it always ended in a disaster.
He hopes that this time it won't.
Because he loves his boyfriend.
He loves y/n.
And y/n loves him. Even though he knows the horrible truth about him.
Hannibal is a killer. A cannibal.
But does that stop y/n?
Not at all whatsoever.
Especially because he got a free top surgery from his boyfriend.
Hannibal doesn't like to waste delicate meat.
Sure, he usually just takes a piece from his victims and throws away the rest, but for y/n and his happiness? He did that surgery with excitement, with the knowledge that his boyfriend had given him permission to eat the breasts afterwards.
Hannibal simply couldn't refuse.
It was simply the thought of tasting his lover in such a deep sense that made his mind spin.
No one was going to use those breasts anyway, right? Why waste them?
It took some time for y/n to get used to potentially eating humans.
He didn't at first. And Hannibal didn't force him to. He just gave him soft nudges towards the dark side.
That's how they build their trust.
And now they're building their trust in the bedroom.
They're both experimental when it comes to sex.
But there's one thing that Hannibal is desperate to try.
Pegging.
He and y/n have talked about it before. But that's about it.
So the Lithuanian man has decided to surprise his boyfriend tonight.
Y/n arrived late as usual. His work kept him busy.
But the knowledge that his boyfriend is waiting for him at home, with a delicious meal that he can't even pronounce most of the time.
Only tonight was different.
The moment y/n walked in, he was met with a candlelit hallway.
Of course, it led towards the dining room.
And there stood Hannibal in all his six-foot-tall glory, setting up the table, wearing a grey three-piece suit.
"Hello." The man greeted with his lopsided smile and walked towards his boyfriend. "How was your day?" He asked as he leaned in for a kiss.
Y/n immediately melted into the kiss. His eyes closed as he let out a breath of relief through his nose.
"Busy." He finally responded when they broke the kiss.
He takes a deep breath. "Mm, what are you cooking? It smells delicious?"
Hannibal smiled and led the smaller man towards the table. He pulled out the chair for him. "One of your favorites." With that being said, the chef left the room.
As always, y/n highly enjoyed the meal.
His boyfriend truly was a brilliant chef.
But that's not where the night ends.
Y/n suddenly noticed that there are more candles on the floor, but these are leading towards the bedroom instead.
He can't help but smile as he looks at his boyfriend.
"Hannibal, what are you planning?" He asked while his mind spun with ideas.
The man sitting on the other side of the table grinned. "I don't know what you're talking about." He teased.
The smaller man chuckled and stood up. He followed the candles. His boyfriend was not far behind.
With a deep breath, y/n opened the door.
When he doesn't see a proposal sign, he lets out a sigh of relief.
But then he noticed a box on the bed.
The floor is covered is rose petals and more candles.
"Hannibal, you'll cause a house fire." The smaller man joked as he tried to cope with his emotions.
"It's alright. I made sure that these candles don't burn for long."
Whatever that means, it did make y/n relax a bit.
The smaller man finally collected the courage and walked towards the box on the bed.
He sure is taking his damn time.
Hannibal would agree. That's why he's quietly stripping out of his three-piece suit behind his boyfriend.
Y/n slowly opened the box. His eyes are closed. He doesn't know why.
He set the kid aside and finally opened his eyes.
When his eyes landed on the stuff inside the box, his breath got caught in his throat.
Inside the box is a strap-on and a variety of dildos.
"Hannibal." He wanted to question, but when he turned around, his breath hitched yet again.
Hannibal was standing there, in all his six-foot-tall glory, in a dark maroon lingerie set.
The smaller man could pass out right then and there.
"Holly shit." He breathed out as his eyes trailed over every detail of Hannibal's lingerie.
"Language." The taller man said and walked closer to his boyfriend.
Y/n's mouth watered.
His hands twitched at his sides, the urge to touch the man in front of him overwhelming.
"I wanted us to try something new." The taller man practically purred as he pushed the smaller man onto the bed.
The man landed with a soft grunt, but his eyes didn't leave his boyfriend's body.
His face flushed when Hannibal slowly straddled his lap.
"Are you feeling alright, y/n? You're suddenly so red." Hannibal teased as he leaned down to present his imaginary cleavage.
"Go on, I know you want to touch them." The taller man nudged.
Without hesitation, y/n reached up and cupped his boyfriend's chest.
He squeezed and groped as much as he could.
The cannibal smiled as he admired the excitement in the smaller man's eyes.
Y/n looks up at his boyfriend and smiles.
"You did all this for me?" He could hardly believe that a man like Hannibal would wear lingerie.
"All for you, my love." The cannibal grinned and leaned in for a kiss.
The kiss grows hungry fast.
The smaller man's hands roam around his boyfriend's body while Hannibal strips him of his clothes.
"I already cleaned and prepped myself." The taller man stated as he sat up and reached for the box.
"You really went all in, huh?" Y/n chuckled and hoisted himself up onto his elbows. He watched as Hannibal pulled out the strap.
"Here. I got this one because we can put different toys on it. However, the worker also recommended that the double strap on is pleasurable for both of us. So if you'd like, I can purchase that one as well." The casualty of Hannibal's words made y/n flush red.
"Oh my god, Hannibal!" Y/n laughed and covered his face.
The smaller man got off the bed and took the strap.
In the meantime, Hannibal looked through the choices of dildos.
Y/n put on the strap and faced his boyfriend.
He let out a gasp when he saw the dildo in his boyfriend's hands. It's not big. But it is thick.
"Come here, I'll attach it for you." The taller man beckoned.
The shorter man walked up and watched his boyfriend.
When the dildo was set up, they both climbed into bed.
"How do you want me?" Hannibal murmured and cupped y/n's cheek.
"Like this... On your back. I want to see you." Y/n breathed out as he looked over the taller man's body.
The cannibal handed his boyfriend a bottle of lube and pulled his underwear down.
The shorter man lubed his cock up before he settled between his boyfriend's legs.
Hannibal got comfortable and looked up at the shorter man.
"Ready?" Y/n asked as he lined up. He looked up at his boyfriend for permission.
The taller man nods and spreads his legs a little more.
That's all y/n needed and gently pushed in.
The cannibal threw his head back and moaned. He was a little impatient because his boyfriend was moving slowly. But he can't blame him, Hannibal knows his boyfriend is pushing in slowly because of the size.
Once y/n bottomed out, the taller man let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.
The shorter man let his boyfriend adjust to the size.
In the meantime, he traced the taller man's hips with the tips of his fingers.
"You're so beautiful, Hannibal." Y/n whispered in awe.
The cannibal grinned and reached up to cup his boyfriend's cheek.
"You can move now, darling." He whispered and pulled the shorter man into a kiss.
The man nodded and pulled out slowly just to push back in just as slowly.
He keeps a slow pace. He doesn't want to rush this.
The room is filled with soft huffs of air as the couple holds each other through the passion.
Y/n could swear that he's starting to feel it too. As if it were his own dick. A phantom feeling.
That urged the man to move faster.
Hannibal arched his back and scratched y/n's shoulders.
"Y/n," Hannibal moaned as he was hit with an unexpected climax.
The shorter man's head started to spin. The view of his boyfriend's body trembling with pleasure was enough for him to come as well.
He can feel the strap getting wet from his release.
The taller man pulled his boyfriend onto his chest.
"You were so good, y/n." He praised through heavy breaths.
"I'm definitely buying the double strap." He said with his lopsided smile.
Y/n can't help but laugh and hide his flushed face in Hannibal's neck.
I'm on my period right now. It was like five days late and it's hurting as fuck. All I can think about is Bucky Barnes/Logan Howlet helping me with easing the pain.
So because I want to... here's a cross-over because they're my favorite people ever so I guess this is mostly for me but I'm sure someone out there will enjoy it too
I didn't want to put two GIFs so here's this instead with David Harbour in the background bcs we also love that man too
Men don't care about period blood
Top Bucky Barnes x bottom ftm reader x top logan howlet
⚠️period blood, sub-reader, taboo I guess, eating out, double penetration, not for weak stomachs⚠️
🚨 Minors and girls do not interact 🚨
Bear in mind i don't have testosterone so i still get my period. I hear your period stops when you have it but i have no clue cus i can't get my hands on it.
Fyi I started this on the fifth of November so my period is long gone as I write this and post it
Update... I'm going through another period and I'm laughing at my old me if he thought those were horrible cramps. Now? I can't even walk or the pain goes in my ass too.
Again ⚠️ MAJOR WARNING A LOT A LOT OF BLOOD PLAY ⚠️
So. Guess who woke up with blood covered boxers this morning?
Y/n y/l/n.
Said man woke up in discomfort. He's in discomfort for multiple reasons.
One, his abdomen hurts as fuck.
Two, his thighs are sticking together from blood.
Three, wearing wet boxers isn't fun in general let alone blood-soaked boxers.
Four, the window is wide open and so is the door. He's fucking freezing.
Five, the bed is empty. His two veterans must've stayed up again.
Both Bucky and Logan prefer the colder weather so it's no surprise the windows and doors are wide open so the breeze flows through.
Y/n groans in frustration and covers his face. But he doesn't attempt to move yet. He's angry enough that he's too lazy to move. He's already covered in blood anyway what's the point of rushing.
But the cold breeze pushes him out of bed. He slowly gets up so he doesn't get the blood on more surfaces than it already is and goes to close the window.
Once that's done he goes to his dresser and gets his period boxers. He goes to the bathroom, strips his now red boxers off, and throws them in the washer.
Once the washer goes off he takes a quick shower to clean the blood off. Then he lets his body air dry as he searches for his menstrual cup. He makes sure to slide around with a towel under his legs so in case any blood drips it doesn't fall on the floor.
Eventually, he finds it and runs it under hot water to clean it.
"Why does it smell like murder in here?" Logan's gruff voice called out from the bedroom. Y/n only grunts knowing Logan can hear him because of his higher senses. Same with why he can smell the blood on the sheets so easily.
"Oh..." is the last thing the bleeding man heard before the bedroom was filled with sheet ruffling.
A couple of minutes later, Logan walked into the bathroom with the sheets he took off the bed and coveres. He stops the washer to add it in before setting it off again.
All while he did that y/n was zoned out sitiing on the toiled just letting the blood drip into it because it's way comfortable and easier. But you can't sit on the toilet for days. So Logan walks up to him and crouches in front of him.
At such proximity the veterans nose is hit with the strong smell of iron. "Hey, bub. You gonna get up some day." He keeps his voice soft so he doesn't set off y/n's mood randomizer.
The bleeding man snaps out of it and nods. He reaches for his cup again. Logan nods too and kisses his hurting lovers' forehead before leaving so he can have some privacy.
Meanwhile, Bucky is in the kitchen desperately trying to figure out the new coffee machine they got as a gift from y/n's friend.
He lets out a few curses under his breath as he tries to understand what's happening. That's until a hairy hand reaches around him and presses a few buttons, and boom. The coffee is brewing.
The metal armed man groans and chukles afterward. "Thanks, pup." He smiled at the smaller man with kitty ears hair behind him. Being a part of a throuple with two other short men helps with y/n's dysphoria. (Comic heights)
Logan grunts in response. He doesn't like being called pup, but no matter how many times he says it, y/n and Bucky still call him that. It's what he gets for calling everyone, bub. It's basically the same thing, but instead of b, it's p.
They both silently watch the coffee drip into the mug.
"James!" Y/n groans in frustration. The veterans tense up but look at each other, wondering which one he's yelling at.
"Both of you!" That snaps the two veterans out of their tranz and run towards y/n.
Said man is standing in the living room staring at their cat, who's covered in mud, that was dripping from Bucky's and Logan's shoes.
The white fur is now brown and sticky as the adorable feline wiggles on her back as if asking for belly rubs.
The bleeding man looks at the veterans and glares. They know what that means, and Bucky grabs Alpine while Logan grabs the boots. They both take them to the bathroom to wash off.
Y/n goes to the kitchen and takes Bucky's finished coffee. He grabs something to eat and goes to the living room. He opens the box of chocolate chip cookies and starts stuffing his face with the cookies and the coffee.
"Hey, that was mine." Bucky chuckled when he noticed y/n is drinking his coffee.
The bleeding man only grumbles and keeps drinking.
Bucky chuckles and goes to make another coffee. This time, he tries to remember what Logan did for the machine to work. Surprisingly, he figures it out and makes a simple black coffee.
Soon, Logan joines them with a cat burrito. He sets alpine who's wrapped in a tortilla blanket on y/n's lap and kisses his forehead before going to the kitchen.
The day goes by painfully slow for the man in pain. He's used up all his last painkillers. Normally, Logan or Bucky would've gone to buy more, but to y/n's luck today, it's a national holiday. So. Everything is closed.
So y/n is left to suffer.
But! The veterans talked, and borh agreed to help their boyfriend with his pain.
The bleeding man is still sitting in the living room. Alpine purring loudly in his lap as she suckles and kneeds on the fluffly blanket covering y/n's thighs.
Logan walks into the living room and picks up alpine. Y/n is about to protest, but Logan sits in his lap instead.
Logan is basically the second house cat. He's got claws. He growls. He purrs. He loves cuddles. And he's tiny enough to comfortably hold him in a lap. Besides the weight. But y/n's likes the weight. It's calming.
That's until Logan starts peppering kisses on the bleeding man's neck. He can feel y/n tense up so he starts to purr to calm him down again.
"Damn you" y/n huffed but pulled Logan closer.
Bucky watches from the doorway.
Usually, y/n is the one on top. He loves using his strap. But when he's on his period, the vetrans want to take care of him instead.
Y/n knows what's happening. He's not dumb. Is he in the mood? He's not sure. But he'll let it play out and see.
And so it did. Y/n is now naked in bed. A large towel under his hips and thighs as he watches Bucky setting up any necessary extra towels.
Logan is in the bathroom probably looking for their box of extra condoms and lube.
Y/n is hit with immense cramps and clutches his stomach. Bucky notices and immediately sits with him. The metal-armed man rubs circles onto y/n's belly.
He decides to skip the waiting and slowly reaches between the bleeding man's legs. Said man gasps and looks at Bucky who only gives him a reassuring smile.
Bucky slowly reaches down and gently removes the menstrual cup before taking it to the bathroom where Logan takes the cup and sends Bucky back.
When Bucky returned he saw y/n curled up in a ball, clenching his belly with his eyes shut tight.
The metal armed man immediately rushed to bed and pulled y/n to lay on his back. "Hey hey it's alright let me help." He said soothingly. Y/n whines and holds his abdomen.
Bucky slowly and gently removed the bleeding man's hands. He kisses his abdomen and gently runs his hands over those slightly bloodied thighs.
Not long after that Logan comes back with condoms, lube and some now found painkillers if the cramps get too bad.
Bucky slowly starts to kiss towards y/n's bleeding cunt. The moment his lips touch y/n's clit Bucky feels the body underneath him jump.
Logan sits by the hurting man's side and starts to kiss and purr against his skin to comfort him.
Y/n's face scrunches. He doesn't know if he wants it or not. So he just lets it play out and sees because he knows the veterans will stop if he asks.
The metal-armed man takes his time. His tongue slowly licks around the sensitive nub, licks down the outer sides of the inner lips. Then the inner sides. And eventually the opening. He stops when y/n's hand jump into his hair.
He slowly caresses y/n's thigh with his metal arm while Logan rubs y/n's abdomen and kisses his neck.
The mixture of kisses, caresses and Logan's purrs helps the bleeding man relax. He eventually eased the grip on Bucky's hair and lets him continue.
Bucky starts licking again. He doesn't want to use his fingers. He knows the tongue is enough when he's eating y/n out.
It doesn't take long before he's making out with the weeping cunt. He's like a starved man. And the way y/n's legs wrap around his head and squeeze only fuels him more. He rubs the clit with his nose as his tongue works wonders inside those bleeding walls.
Y/n's gasping and arching his back. His hand is gripping Bucky's hair so tight he's surprised he's not ripping them out. Logan can't help but stroke himself at the sight.
But this isn't for Logan. So he kisses his bleeding boyfriend and uses his free hand to play with y/n's nipple.
Y/n shakily reaches out and grabs Logan's dick. He doesn't like when the attention is only in him, so when Logan stops him, he nets out a whine in protest. The cat eared man chuckles and lets y/n do what he wants. That grin is slowly wiped off with a moan when he feels y/n's thumb right on his frenulum.
Logan cursed under his breath. Bucky is fully unaware of what's happening above him because he's too focused on his cunt makeout. He hasn't pulled up to breathe yet. But he doesn't seem to care.
Y/n does dare, though, so he tugs on Bucky's hair. He looks down to meet those beautiful blue eyes filled with passion. Bucky understands and lifts his head up to breathe. He looks like a hyena. Most of his chin is covered in blood. But it's not as messy as one would think, considering the blood mixes with the juices.
The former assassin finally notices how y/n is stroking Logan's dick.
"Should we take another step?" Bucky suggested. Logan groans with desperation but doesn't answer because it's y/n's matter.
The bleeding man thinks about it. He needs the release. Plus it'll help with the cramps. He nods and reaches for the condoms. Bucky stops him and grabs the box himself. He doesn't want y/n to move much.
The lube is forgotten. It's less likely that they'll need it. Bucky grabs a condom and hands it to Logan before he grabs one for himself. They carefully put them on.
Y/n sits up to straddle Logan's hips. He lays his back against the wolf's chest and tilts his head to bury his face in the wolf's neck. He rests one hand on Logan's that's resting on his belly to hold him in place, and puts the other one on Bucky's bicep for now.
Bucky first lines Logan up and lets y/n slowly sink onto him. The two men in front of Bucky moan.
Bucky just watches at first. He lets Logan gently rock his hips to start off with a gentle pace. Y/n keeps his face buried in Logan's neck.
Y/n knows that whenever he needs to dig his nails or teeth into something without having to hold back he can always use Logan for it. As much as Bucky loves the marks they all agreed that it's safer if y/n does it to Logan because of his healing factor so he doesn't have to worry and hold back on his pressure. And let's be honest. Logan is a masochist.
So y/n reaches back and digs his nails into Logan's bicep as he's hit with cramps. But Logan doesn't budge. He only groans and keeps a steady pace.
It doesn't take long before Bucky joins. He slowly pushes in to make sure the hurting man's body gets used to being penetrated twice at the same time.
It's not long after that that the throuple is a moaning and groaning mess.
"James" Y/n moans. He's so glad his boyfriends share a name. It's less complicated to moan for both of them. Bucky and Logan know the moan is meant for both of them. Also, a good reason why they don't get jealous over who gives better pleasure.
The boys speed up. Y/n gasps and arches his back. At this point he's forgotten the pain he woke up with as it's replaced with pleasure. "Close!" He cries out when he feels the familiar knot in his abdomen.
Both veterans start to attack their boyfriend's neck with kisses. They want to stimulate him as much as possible. Y/n's hands shoot to both of their hair and harshly grip them. They all let out curses under their breaths as they started to get sloppy.
"Yes yes yes yes yes" Y/n groans and squirts. He's not a squirter so this surprised all three of them.
Logan's senses go overload as he watches the liquid shooting onto Bucky's thighs. It's all too much for him and before he knows it he's filling his condom up.
Y/n lays against Logan who collapsed onto the pillows. They both pant and wait for Bucky to finish too.
Logan shakily reaches up and pulls Bucky into a heated kiss. The bleeding man whimpered at the sight.
Logan and Bucky smirked. They know what they're doing. So they purposely used more force into the kiss.
Y/n clenches around Bucky. That caused the metal-armed man to groan and pull away from the kiss. Bucky kisses the bleeding man instead. Y/n scratches at Bucky's back and returns the kiss.
That's all Bucky needs to let go and fill his condom too.
Bucky tries his best not to collapse so he can clean the three of them up. Once everyone's clean he joins them in bed. Logan and Bucky sandwich y/n between them and caresses his sore spots.
The bleeding man closed his eyes and murmured quiet thank yous before dozing off.
Logan and Bucky let themselves fall asleep too. They can't remember the last time they slept anyway.
ARTHUR HARROW X FTM READER - PART 2 (Doctor Harrow)
TWO:
Summary: You meet Doctor Harrow, he introduces some new kinks to you. Continuation of: You’re part of Arthur Harrow’s community, but hold a special place. [ Part 1 here ]
Arthur Harrow (Cult Leader) x FTM Reader.
Rating: Explicit (Contains smut, Warning for dub-con, One-sided Breeding Kink from Harrow, talk about getting Reader pregnant, Praise kink, use of good boy, reader curses a few times (mostly damn) ). Words: 5785
Thanks to the wonderful supporter who commissioned this fic ♡
For: @apriltearsbringmayfears
Tags: Older man x younger (ftm) reader, dub-con and consensual intimacy, praise kink, touching, kissing, explicit sexual content, bit of powerplay, you x the villainous cult leader, Doctor Harrow is messing about.
Your head was spinning, the world a blur of sterile white. White walls, white floor, even you were swallowed by the stark whiteness of the fabric encasing your body. An asylum patient's garb clung to you, the realization cold and sharp in your mind. You were a patient, trapped in a room that reeks of disinfectant and stripped-down sanity. The air was still, almost suffocating in its cleanliness.
"Good morning," came a calm, composed voice from across the room. You turned your head slowly, fighting the dizziness. There he was. Doctor Arthur Harrow, his hair shorter, slicked back in a mockery of casual sophistication. He sat behind a desk made of glass, aviator glasses perched on his nose. A small mustache curled above his lip, giving him an air of quiet authority.
Your eyes were instantly drawn to the cane that rested against the desk. His cane. But the crocodile heads were nowhere in sight. Instead, you saw a modern black cane with a golden accent and a white handle. No crocodile head. Just plain, clinical efficiency.
This wasn’t your Arthur.
He tapped a white, expensive-looking pen against the sides of his glasses and – to your shock- you noticed a golden gleaming ring on his ring finger. He seemed to trace your gaze and hummed, but said nothing.
Modern clothes clung to his frame, a crisp departure from the red cotton he usually favored. White books and little white trinkets adorned the colorless cabinets against the walls. It made you realize this could not be a real place. No one kept everything in white. Even the hearth, the tables, the chairs, everything lacked color except for a painting on the wall.
But the books. Their covers were all blank.
You knew where this place was. And that you weren’t the first to visit it.
"Doctor..." you whispered, the title tasting foreign on your tongue. You’d wanted to ask so many questions, but your throat felt dry. Memories swirled in the fog of your mind - fragments of a different life, a different Harrow.
"Yes, it's me," he said, smile faint but present. His eyes, hidden behind those reflective lenses, seemed to pierce through you. "I believe I know what your problem is."
You shivered, folding your arms tightly around yourself as if that could keep out the chill seeping into your bones. The room smelled of antiseptic and something else. Something metallic, almost coppery. Blood? No. Just your imagination.
"What problem?" you managed to ask, though the words felt insignificant. There wasn’t anything wrong with you. Not anything you weren’t aware of. "Why am I here?”
"Calm down," he replied, voice soothing but firm. "We're going to try something new. Something that could help you." The confidence in his tone was unshakeable, absolute.
Your heart could be heard pounding in your ears, chest heaving more rapidly now. What did he think was wrong with you? Arthur had always assured you that you were perfect to him. Surely, this mirror-version of him was lying – a fraud. Perhaps not so much a dream as a nightmare.
"Help me?" you scoffed, disbelief mingling with fear. "What are you talking about?"
"A new kind of therapy,” he said, leaning forward, his gaze never leaving you. That familiar smile tugged the corners of his lips. A smile you recognized from your Arthur. Oh, how you recognized that look. Kind, yet mischievous. He already had his mind set on something. Whatever it was, you weren’t going to change his thoughts.
“A new treatment,” you echoed hollowly, mind racing.
"One that requires your complete trust and cooperation." The confidence in his voice was unwavering, a rock amidst the storm of your confusion.
You stared at him, your heart pounding a chaotic rhythm against your ribs. He seemed so sure, so calm. The sterile scent of antiseptic mingled with the faint hum of fluorescent lights above.
“Why?”
You swallowed hard, your throat dry. Questions clawed at your mind. What kind of therapy? Why you? And why did this all feel so disturbingly familiar?
"Trust me," he said, his voice low and hypnotic.
You crossed your arms over your chest, the thin fabric of the white patient outfit doing little to shield you from the cold.
"Why should I agree to this therapy?" Your voice came out sharper than you intended, slicing through the sterile air.
Doctor Arthur Harrow leaned back in his chair, unperturbed, a small smile playing on his lips. "Because you need it," he said simply, his tone smooth and confident. "Everything will become clear. You'll see."
"Need it?" You scoffed, feeling a surge of defiance. "Why should I trust you?"
"Trust is earned," he replied, his eyes narrowing slightly behind those aviator glasses. "We’ve already made such progress, haven’t we? I remember you’ve already put all your trust in me…”
And that caused a pang deep inside your chest because, with a start, you realized he was right. You’d come to trust your Arthur blindly. Fully. Your love for him has become irrevocably passionate and wild. A treasure you did not want to lose or abandon.
Trust Arthur? You already did with your whole heart.
But this? This man? He was not your Arthur. Of that you were sure. And defiantly you gazed at him, your own lips twisting in disdain. How dare someone, or some higher power, simulate the man of your desires?
"Faith," you muttered, tasting the word like poison. "My faith is reserved for one alone."
"And that’s a good thing," he said, leaning forward again, his gaze intense. "It is going to make my job so much easier.”
His words sent shivers down your spine, his voice full of dark promises that had you squeezing your thighs together and your cock throbbing to life. You silently cursed for getting aroused by this illusion of the man you loved.
"What job?” you asked, shaking your head and willing your erection to go down. Not that you were successful…"You keep saying these words, but they mean nothing."
"Words are powerful," he responded, his voice a gentle caress. "They can heal, or they can destroy. It's all in how you use them."
"You're not answering my question," you snapped, frustration bubbling to the surface. "Why me? Why now?"
"Why not you?" His answer was infuriatingly cryptic, his calm demeanor only adding to your agitation. "Aren’t the favorite disciple?”
There it was. Your eyes flew wide. A confession that made him sound more like the man you knew. Was he the same as your Arthur after all?
“And so you chose me for this new… therapy of yours?’
“Sometimes, the universe chooses us for reasons we can't understand," he continued, voice husky and low. Entranced, you watched his finger trace an imaginary circle on a blank paper on the glass table in front of him. The golden wedding band gleamed in the light.
Was it to symbolize his faithfulness to Ammit? Or to someone else?
To you?
Why were you hopeful?
"That's not an answer," you bit back, your pulse quickening.
"Maybe not the one you want," he conceded, his smile widening. "But it's the one you need."
"Need," you echoed, feeling the word coil around your mind like a snake. "What do you think I need?"
"To see the truth," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "To understand your own need, I will have to show you.”
While your mind was still racing - running wouldn’t be of any help as there was no place to go – you heard the clicking of his heels as he rose from his chair and made his way around the desk.
Doctor Harrow came to stand behind you, his presence looming. You felt the warmth first, a heavy presence that crept over your shoulder. The air in the asylum office felt thick, almost suffocating. His hand had found your shoulder, firm but gentle. You tried to turn, to look at his hand, to see where he touched you, but the grip he had on you tightened. His fingers, strong and sure, pressed gently into your flesh through the thin fabric.
A silent warning.
"Shh," he whispered, voice low and soothing. It was a command wrapped in velvet.
You swallowed hard, nerves jittery. "What if I don't agree to the new therapy?" you asked, voice barely above a whisper. You knew going against his will was going to be a challenge.
Harrow's breath warmed the back of your neck. "You'll give in...eventually," he said, each word deliberate, measured. A strange sensation crawled up your spine, settling deep in your gut. His hand squeezed your shoulder, the pressure both reassuring and terrifying.
"Why are you so sure?" you managed to ask, heart pounding in your chest.
"Because," he murmured softly, his grip tightening just enough to make you wince, "I know how your mind works. I cracked the code and found the combination."
Harrow's hand slid from your shoulder, trailing down your spine. His touch was electric, igniting nerves you didn't know existed. You stiffened, feeling every inch of his presence behind you.
"Doctor, what are you doing?" Your voice quivered, barely audible.
"I’ve started your therapy," Harrow replied, his tone maddeningly calm. "This is part of it."
You shook your head, a weak attempt to muster defiance. "I didn’t agree to…"
"Shh," he interrupted, his fingers tracing the curve of your back, then moving around to your chest. "Trust me."
Harrow’s hand was under your clothes before you could react. His fingers traced a path of fire across your skin, each touch igniting something primal within you. Your breath hitched as he found the sensitive spot just below your navel, his thumb circling it with deliberate slowness.
"Doctor..." you gasped, but he silenced you with a finger to your lips. The gesture felt intimate, almost reverent, and yet there was an undeniable dominance in his eyes.
"Shh," he whispered, his voice a soothing purr. "Trust me."
The way he loomed over you felt dominating – as if he was crowding in on you. And then, it happened.
Before you could protest further, Harrow’s lips crashed against yours. The kiss was demanding, consuming, as if he sought to claim every breath you had. His mustache scratched your face, adding to the overwhelming sensation. Your mind screamed confusion, but your body betrayed you, melting into his touch.
His tongue explored your mouth with a hungry urgency, each movement calculated and intense. You felt his hands gripping your face, tilting your head to deepen the kiss. Time seemed to warp, seconds stretched into eternity. The world outside the asylum office ceased to exist. It was only Harrow. His taste, his scent, his heat.
When he finally pulled away, you gasped for air, your heart pounding like a drum in your chest. He looked at you, his blue eyes piercing through your defenses.
This was his therapy? You didn’t want to know how he treated his other patients.
You shivered as his hand moved lower, fingertips brushing against the waistband of your pants. He probably already spotted the bulge there, must have seen the signs of your arousal. Damn him. He took his time, savoring each second as if it were a ritual. The air thickened with anticipation, every heartbeat echoing like a drum in your ears.
Then, his fingers flicked over your bulge, the friction enough to make you gasp deliciously. With a swift motion, he gripped the back of your neck. Not painfully, but firmly, asserting control. The pressure sent a thrill down your spine, making you arch involuntarily into his touch. A smug smile slid on his face, the corners of his lips pulling up in that cocky smirk you loved to kiss away.
Harrow’s other hand tugged at your pants, pulling them down with practiced ease. The cool air kissed your exposed skin, sending a shiver through your body. Your cock popped out, kissed proudly by the cold office air.
"Doctor..." you breathed again, this time less a plea and more a surrender.
"Good boy," he murmured, his hot breath ghosting over your ear. His fingers stroked past your swollen cock, earning him another moan torn from your lips. “So eager,” he muttered. “So ready to please me.”
His hand moved up and down between your thighs, strong fingers teasing and exploring. You couldn’t help the moans that escaped your lips, your body responding eagerly to his touch. He knew exactly where to press, where to stroke, drawing out pleasure with expert precision.
"That's it," he coaxed, his voice velvet smooth. "Give your body what it wants. Let go."
Your head fell back, eyes fluttering shut as waves of sensation crashed over you. Each touch, each caress, brought you closer to the edge. His name became a mantra on your lips, a prayer offered up to this godlike figure who held you in thrall.
"Arthur... please..."
“Doctor,” he firmly corrected you. “Doctor Harrow,” and then he leaned over you again to bring his lips close to your ear. The rasped whisper was enough to bring you closer to your climax. “Or call me daddy, because that is the real issue here. Isn’t it?”
His words confused you at first because you didn’t call your Arthur that. But Doctor Harrow’s fingers moved so expertly, he had you crawling in your seat, back arched, legs trembling, body wrecked with desire. And yet he kept you pinned down by your shoulders, used his own body weight to keep you trapped in your seat as he assaulted you with pleasure.
Just his hand and his voice. You thought it was unfair that he could do this to you.
"You're doing so well," he praised, his voice thick with approval. "But you can do even better.”
The rustling of clothes and the absence of pressure indicated that he had moved. But only when his fingers left your cock did you open your eyes and actually look. Doctor Harrow limped around you and came to stand before you, with a serious and solemn expression. And then he sank to his knees, pushing your legs aside before pressing a hand flatly against your tummy, applying pressure to keep you there.
“Let’s just take this a notch further.”
His lips closed around your small cock and you were reeling. You tried to wiggle under his touch while he sucked and nipped. Your hands found his – shorter – hair and dug into it, tugging at the strands for leverage and a silent plea to let go.
“Don’t,” a hoarse moan. “Stop,” the voice was your own. But damn, this felt good. As did the smirk that you felt against your skin while he kept on sucking and nipping, using his mouth to bring you to the edge, ready to tumble over.
One hard suck – the slurping noise that accompanied it was embarrassing but oh-so-good. With a choked cry, you came undone, your body wracked with intense pleasure. Every muscle tensed, then released, leaving you trembling in the aftermath.
And still, he nipped and sucked until the last of the tremors faded and pleasure became sensitivity, bordering on pain if he didn’t let go and would overstimulate you.
Luckily, he let go of your cock with a loud pop on his lips. One last lick past your cock made you shiver – too much, your mind provided – but then he was done, rising to a standing position in front of you. He withdrew his hand slowly, almost reluctantly, as if savoring the last vestiges of your climax. And when you looked up at him, he was staring down at you intently, yet pensively. As if he was lost in thought.
"Good boy," Doctor Harrow praised you, his tone laced with satisfaction.
You were still catching your breath, glancing up at him. “Is the therapy over now?’ You cheekily asked, not caring if he would think you a brat for the tone of your voice.
Doctor Harrow pursed his lips, the frown above his aviator glasses deepened. “I’m sorry?”
“I asked,” you repeated, this time a little more agitated. He had sucked you off. You were done now, weren’t you? You could leave, right? “Are we done now?’
A pregnant silence filled the air between you.
“My dear boy,” he finally said after what felt like too long. “Why would you assume such a thing.” The way he stood, leaning against his desk, so carefree, so comfortable. It made you want to rage. How could he be so calm and collected?
“This is only the beginning.” And without a warning, Harrow closed the gap between you. You tried to stand up and struggled against his grip as he reached for your neck again. Your pants were still down between your ankles, making it hard to walk away.
Harrow's grip tightened around your neck, his fingers digging into your skin. With a swift motion, he pushed you forward. The cold surface of the glass desk met your chest, sending a shiver through your body. The sound of rattling glass filled the room, mingling with your ragged breaths.
"Stay still," he commanded, his voice firm yet dripping with affection.
You heard the zipper but were too busy trying to wiggle out of his grasp. You barely had time to register the command before he positioned himself behind you. His hands roamed over your exposed skin, greedy and unapologetic. You felt the blunt pressure, then the agonizingly slow slide as he entered you. Your breath hitched, pleasure mixing with pain.
"Doctor..." you gasped, the word spilling from your lips like a prayer. Another deep thrust. Luckily, your walls were slick from your previous orgasm, providing him easy access and an easy slide.
"Good boy," Harrow murmured, his voice heavy with desire. You felt his hips press fully against your ass, knowing that he was completely inside – as far as your body would allow – and suppressed a little gasp. Damn, this man felt good. Even if he wasn’t the real deal. He surely felt real.
A hoarse rasp in your ear, a dark promise: "I’m going to cure you."
The desk beneath you creaked ominously with each thrust, the glass threatening to give way under the force of your combined weight. But the sensation of him inside you drowned out any fear. Each thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your veins, pushing you further into blissful abandon.
"Do you feel that?" he growled, his breath hot against your ear. "Do you feel how deep I'm inside you?"
"Yes, Doctor Harrow... oh god, yes," you moaned, your fingers clawing at the edge of the desk for support.
"Imagine," he continued, his pace relentless, each thrust deep and hard, "me filling you up, making you pregnant. Wouldn't you love that, my sweet boy? To carry my child?"
The words sent a jolt of forbidden excitement through you. The thought of bearing his mark, of being claimed so completely, was intoxicating.
"Yes," you cried out, the confession torn from your soul. "I want it... I want you."
"That's right," he praised, each word punctuated by a powerful thrust. "You're mine. Only mine."
The rhythm grew frantic, bodies slick with sweat, moving in perfect, chaotic harmony. His hands kept you pinned, his strength a constant reminder of his control. The eroticism of his power, his dominance, fueled your desire, driving you closer to another release.
You liked him like this, always had when he was in control. But him taking you so deep, so passionately… was he truly working you toward your second orgasm of the day?
Your body started to tremble around him, your own voice growing hoarse with each gasp, and cry, and moan.
“More,” he commanded, another firm thrust deep inside. Another echo of wet noises as he pounded you like there was no tomorrow.
"Say it," he demanded, his voice rough and commanding. "Tell me who you belong to."
"You," you screamed, as loudly as your breaking voice allowed you. Your body was twitching and trembling with pleasure. Thank Ammit you had the desk to keep you up because your own legs surely wouldn’t. It felt good, the truth breaking free in desperate gasps. "I belong to you, Doctor Harrow."
A few more firm thrusts. You were nearly there.
And then he paused.
You cursed, teeth gnashing as you tried to move your hips and ass to get some more friction. The glass felt cold against your erect cock, stimulating you – but not enough. Why had he stopped?
You heard the heavy swallow, the way he cleared his throat, then felt how Doctor Harrow leaned over you, cloaking your body entirely with his own.
The hairs of his mustache tickled your ear.
"See?" he whispered, his lips brushing against your temple. "I told you you'd enjoy the therapy."
Bastard.
You groaned loudly, moving your hips but groaning in disappointment when his hands kept you pinned down, unable to move up and down his shaft.
“Please,” you begged, voice hoarse. It was enough.
"Good boy," he echoed, his tone laced with triumph. "Let go again. For me."
He didn’t wait but started a fast pace, for which you were grateful. Each stroke was deep and hit that right spot inside that had your toes curled and your fingers grasping past the slick surface of the glass.
Your body obeyed, surrendering to the overwhelming tide of pleasure. Everything else faded away leaving only the raw, unfiltered connection between you and Harrow. Nothing else mattered.
You clamped down on his cock, earning the stuttering rasped groans in your ear that betrayed he was near as well. A few more deep thrusts and he followed. Warm, hot liquid poured deep inside while his hands held your hips pressed against the cold glass. Your body was throbbing, but so was his shaft as it emptied itself. You imagined the way his balls must be pulsing right now as they were drained dry completely by your deliciously tight cunt.
“Hmm, so greedy,” he murmured, as if he was reading your thoughts. He leaned a little backward, cock still locked inside you, so he could clap a hand firmly to the cheek of your ass.
You did a little yelp, your body scooting forward on the glass, and then tried to look at him from over your shoulder.
“Do you think it will take?” The doctor rasped, his blue eyes finding yours through the reflecting glasses. You felt the way his fingers pried your cheeks open, then slid lower until they pressed inside your cunt, joining his cock.
“You think you’re going to make me a daddy, sweetheart?”
He slowly retracted his cock and seemed to watch how slick seed came dripping from your hole. Holding his cock in his hand, he used his half-hard shaft to rub past your sensitive lips, pushing the semen back in with the tip.
You closed your eyes and allowed him to play with you, your body tired from a second climax and your breath still rapid and uneven.
You felt him push the head of his cock inside you, dipping in and out – almost experimentally – a few times. Then he retracted and the warmth of his body was gone.
"Up," Harrow commanded, his voice a rough whisper against your ear.
You barely had time to register the word before he pulled you to your feet. His hand remained firm around your neck, guiding you as he maneuvered behind you. The cold air hit your back, stark in contrast to the heat of his body. He turned you to face him, eyes blazing with an intensity that made your heart race.
"That's it," he murmured, as he held you close, his touch almost tender despite the intensity of what had just transpired.
Finally, he stepped back, leaving you feeling strangely empty without his presence. You noticed the limp when he walked. At least that hadn’t changed. But the half-hard cock you had expected to go limp was curling up proudly again, tipping against Harrow’s stomach as he limped to the other side of the desk. Wait? What?
You groaned, taking a few deep breaths while you watched him lowering himself into his chair with a grace that belied his years. He sat there, pants discarded, watching you with a calm, expectant gaze.
You stood there, catching your breath, the silence stretching out between you. What did he want from you?
"What are you waiting for?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "Sit on me." His tone was gentle but firm, laced with the promise of more to come. You knew that even if you had wanted to, you could not disobey him.
And a third time? Well, what was one more? Even if this wasn’t your Harrow, he surely was a good fuck. You wouldn’t look a gifted horse in the mouth.
With trembling legs and a racing heart, you moved closer, your skin still tingling from the last wave of pleasure. You discarded your pants fully, even taking the time to take off the rest of your asylum garb until you stood fully naked.
Harrow's eyes were on you, unwavering, his gaze a mix of command and invitation. His hands rested on the arms of the chair, fingers tapping lightly against the metal as if to a rhythm only he could hear.
"Come here," he urged softly, his voice a low murmur that sent shivers down your spine.
You straddled him, knees at either side of his waist. The warmth of his body pressed against yours was intoxicating. Slowly, you lowered yourself onto him, feeling him fill you once more. A squelching sound accompanied the movement, as combined slick from you and Doctor Harrow’s semen paved the way for his hard cock to slide deep inside. A gasp escaped your lips, the sensation almost overwhelming.
"That's it," he whispered, his hands finding your hips, guiding you. "Just like that."
And it was just like that. You preferred this position more, the way your cock rubbed past him, the friction, it was all so much better than the cool glass table had been.
You began to move, the rhythm slow at first, savoring every inch of him within you. He had grown hard again, his cock throbbing and pulsing inside your narrow cunt. Each rise and fall brought a fresh surge of heat, a deep ache of pleasure that built with every movement. His grip tightened on your hips, encouraging, guiding, coaxing you to go faster.
"Good boy," he praised, his voice thick with satisfaction. "You're perfect. Could only be better swollen with child."
The words spurred you on, driving you to quicken your pace. The room seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you, bound together in this intense dance. Sweat slicked your bodies, the sound of your mingled breaths filling the silence.
"Arthur," you gasped, your hands gripping his shoulders for support. "I'm close."
"Then let go," he commanded, his voice a low growl. "Show me how much you need this."
The coil of pleasure wound tighter within you, threatening to snap. You rode him harder, faster, each thrust pushing you closer to the edge. His hands roamed your back, caressing, encouraging, sending sparks of electricity through your veins.
"Come for me," he ordered, his tone brooking no argument.
Your body obeyed, the release crashing over you like a tidal wave. You cried out, his name a prayer on your lips, your vision blurring as ecstasy consumed you. He followed soon after, his own release a powerful surge that left you both trembling.
"That's it, my love," he murmured, holding you close, his breath hot against your ear. “Let me stuff you nice and full. Think of all the cum. Make me a dad.”
He stroked your back gently, the touch tender and soothing. You melted into him, feeling safe, cherished. Even if he wasn’t your Arthur. Nothing else mattered.
“We have made such good progress, haven’t we?” he whispered, his lips brushing against your temple.
“Progress?’ you asked, blearily. You felt as if your body could take no more, yet he started to gently thrust inside you again.
“One more time,” he said, but you were already shaking your head.
“No.”
“Come on, we have made such good progress,” he moved you up and down his shaft shallowly, but your pussy was oversensitive and each thrust felt like it was too much. You flinched, trying to push him away, but his hand found your cock and flicked against it. You recoiled, back arched, and let out a cry.
“Fuck, I can’t,” you gasped, still struggling in his grip. “It’s too much.”
But as Harrow gently pounded your sore cunt, the world around you seemed to crumble away until everything faded. Even the feeling of being fucked raw.
You sat up and instantly winced. Your body felt sore, pussy even sorer. As if you truly had climaxed three times.
You rubbed your head, eyes slowly getting used to the daylight that already filtered into the room. That was when you noticed him.
Arthur Harrow sat on the edge of your desk, his shoulder-length hair cascading around his face, worry etched into his features. The morning light streamed through the window, casting long shadows that danced eerily across the floor. You’d almost thought he wasn’t real, but then he moved.
"Good morning," Arthur said softly, his voice a soothing balm against your frayed nerves. He leaned forward, the creak of the desk cutting through the silence. "You missed breakfast so I came to have a look. See if you’re all right."
Your mouth felt dry as sandpaper, and you licked your lips, trying to find your voice. "I..."
"It’s all right," he interrupted gently, holding up a hand. "I brought you something." He gestured to a tray beside him, laden with fruit, toast, cheese, and a steaming cup.
The disorientation clawed at your mind, the lines between dream and reality blurring. You stared at the food, your stomach twisting in knots. "Why?"
"Because I care about you," he replied, his gaze unwavering. Those bright blue eyes bored into yours, filled with an earnest concern that made your heart ache.
"Was it... real?" you muttered, the words barely audible.
"Dreams can feel very real, can't they?" Arthur's lips curled into a small, knowing smile. He pushed the tray closer to you. "Eat. You'll feel better."
You slowly got out of bed, unperturbed about Arthur seeing you like this. He’d seen you in worse states.
You reached for the toast, your hands trembling. The memory of Doctor Harrow's touch still lingered on your skin, ghostly and persistent. You took a bite, the crunch loud in the otherwise quiet room.
"Was it another nightmare?" Arthur asked, concern etching lines across his face.
"Something like that," you admitted after swallowing, unable to meet his gaze. Instead, you focused on the tray of food, absently picking at the toast.
"Talk to me," Arthur prompted gently, his voice a soothing balm that eased some of the lingering tension within you. "What happened in the dream?"
“You were there,” you finally confessed, still confused about everything that had just happened.
"I was?" He asked, his voice low and steady. Arthur's blue eyes bore into you, steady and unwavering, as if trying to decipher the secrets hidden within your soul. Your heart pounded in your chest, the lingering effects of the dream making it difficult to distinguish between reality and fantasy.
You hesitated before speaking, the weight of the dream heavy on your tongue. "It was you," you began, your voice trembling slightly. "But not you. You were a doctor, in an asylum."
A flicker of surprise crossed Arthur's face, his brows knitting together as he processed your words. "A doctor, huh?" His voice was steady, but you could see the wheels turning behind those piercing blue eyes. "And what did this doctor do?"
You hesitated, a shiver running down your spine as you remembered the way Doctor Harrow's hands felt on you, the controlled strength in his grip. "He… he was...helping me, or at least, that's what he claimed." The words tumbled out in a rush, a confession burning your lips as you spoke. "But it didn't feel like help. It felt like control."
Arthur's hand tightened on your arm, a protective gesture that sent warmth flooding through you. "Did he touch you?”
“Oh yes,” you didn’t know why you confessed so easily, but once you looked up it was to see Arthur’s eyes darken menacingly. “Said it was this new therapy he wanted to try, Was supposed to help me with something, but it only ended with him telling me he wanted to see me carry his baby. It was really weird.”
You finally finished, taking your time to catch your breath and think. In the meanwhile, you studied him. Your Arthur.
"In the dream,” he began, eyes unfocused. “I was... obsessed with becoming a father."
He hesitated, gauging your reaction.
“You sure were. Or well, he sure was,” you clicked your tongue and picked up another piece of toast. Orgasming three times had made you hungry.
"Interesting," Arthur murmured, his expression inscrutable. "And how did that make you feel?"
"Confused," you admitted, mouth full, frowning. "I don't understand why he would tell me that."
"Perhaps there's a reason," Arthur suggested, leaning forward in his chair. "Dreams can be windows into our deepest desires and fears. Maybe this is something you need to explore further."
"Are you saying that I should try to get actual therapy?" You asked, skepticism lacing your words.
"Not quite," Arthur replied, his voice soft but firm. "Trust your instincts."
You sighed, running a hand through your hair. The idea of delving deeper into Doctor Harrow's fixation unnerved you. And the way your Arthur reacted to your dream had left you puzzled. Did he know there was a dream version of him lingering around? Could he influence it? Hadn’t it just all been inside your head? Because you’d been pretty certain Ammit and the other Gods loved to use familiar faces and an asylum room to bring their messages across.
"I’m hungry now,” you said, reluctantly. "I just want to eat.”
"Good," Arthur smiled, his eyes warm and reassuring. "I will leave you be. But just remember, I'm here for you, no matter what."
"Thank you," you whispered, your throat tight with emotion.
You watched as Arthur stood and made his way to the door, the familiar crunch of glass beneath his feet a constant reminder of his devotion. His silhouette framed by the doorway, he paused and glanced back at you, his eyes filled with an emotion that you couldn't quite place. Then he was gone.
~ * ~
A/n: Hello, my 🍓Little Strawberries🍓! I tried my best to do this. Sorry if there are any mistakes discovered. I want to thank everyone on my discord server and the requester for helping me!
DISCLAIMERS: Remember, this is fiction! I mean no offense, harm, or disrespect to any of these celebrities. Minors DNI and Women aligned readers, you can read but do not fetishize it! I’m close to banning it.
Requested?: Yes or no?
Pairings: Chris Evans x Ftm reader
Rating: Fluff/smut
Warnings: oral sex (reader receiving), vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, passionate sex, penis in vagina, and transphobic comments. It mentioned that the reader gave birth. (You can pretend that the child is adopted.)
Word Count: 1656
Summary: You and your husband, Chris Evans, are drunk in love with each other. Chris treats you to the best day.
You and Chris were sleeping peacefully in bed. You cradled a pillow close to your chest while Chris held you closer to him. His body gave off a sense of comfort and protection. The sun beamed through the curtains causing you to stir.
You groaned in discomfort from the bright light shining. Chris felt some movement as you snuggled into his neck. He smiled internally. However, your sleep was interrupted.
“Daddy! Papa!” A child’s voice screamed as they opened the door and jumped onto the bed. Both you and Chris groaned as the child continued jumping on the bed.
“Time to wake up!” they said, still jumping but eventually getting tired. Chris yawned and stretched his muscles. You then pulled (C/n) onto your lap.
“You’re up early. This never happens… must be a miracle.” You said, rubbing your eyes, getting the dried crust out. The bed creaked as Chris got up and went to the bathroom.
C/n giggled before reminding you what today was. “Today is my first day!” They said, getting up and running back to their room. Then it clicked. It was their first day at kindergarten. You quickly got out of bed.
“Chris!” you yelled, opening the door to see Chris brushing his teeth while still in his briefs. “What is wrong, pumpkin?” he asked, spitting out the paste.
“It's C/n's first day at kindergarten!” you said, Chris’s eyes widened as he hurried up to get ready. You did the same. You couldn’t believe how fast they were growing. It felt like yesterday when you gave birth to them. (Or, it felt like yesterday when you and Chris were approved to adopt them.)
You went downstairs to see Chris cooking some breakfast and C/n dressed and eating. “Are you ready for your first day?” they nodded their head, somewhat excited and nervous. Chris handed you a plate of food.
“Thank you, honey.” you smiled at him, kissing him. You joined C/n at the table along with Chris. After breakfast was over, all three of you went to Chris’s car. Driving to the elementary school, c/n would be attending.
(Time skip)
After dropping off C/n, you and Chris decide to lay down in bed again. The soft mattress sinks as it takes both your weight. “I can’t believe they are already in kindergarten…” you said, turning to your side.
“Soon, they’ll be graduating high school.” Chris chimed in, wrapping his arm around you, pulling you closer to him. You sighed as the heat radiating from him offered comfort.
With nothing better to do, you pulled out your phone and scrolled through social media. Watched videos while Chris played with your hair and nuzzled his head into your nape. Nothing happened until a notification from Twitter popped on your screen.
“Chris Evans and Y/n Evans child attend their first day of kindergarten.” it was something like that. You didn’t understand why people couldn’t mind their own business. You hoped C/n wasn't crowded with people, knowing that their father is Chris Evans.
You scrolled down to read some of the comments. Some of them were good until you reached the horrible ones.
Fuckgender_Equality: She. Not him. She will never be a man.
50 comments. 2 retweets. 10 likes.
LGBAlliance: God, why would THE Chris Evans date such a person? A fake person.
60 comments. 5 retweets. 15 likes.
John80362926491: There is no match between those two. Chris deserves a person who is not pretending.
55 comments. 4 retweets. 6 likes.
All of the comments were swimming in your head. The bad thoughts you locked away were suddenly coming back to you. The comments combined with the locked away thoughts made cried and self-conscious.
You got up from bed and walked to the bathroom in a hurry, leaving Chris alone. Confused.
The voices came back. ‘You’ll never be a man. No matter how much you do to change yourself, you’ll never be a man. Just accept that you are a woman.’ The voice kept taunting you, even though you tried blocking them.
‘You’re ugly and fat. How Chris ever loved you is beyond me. Surprised he didn’t cheat on you already.’
Chris was confused as to why you got up in a hurry. He noticed you left your phone and wanted to see what you were looking at. Once he saw the comments, he immediately ran to the bathroom to see you crying.
‘Oh no.’
“Y/n?” Chris called out to you. He didn’t get a response.
You cried more as Chris walked. You could hear him calling you, but his voice was overshadowed by the voice. Suddenly, he turns you around to face you.
“Y/n, don’t listen to them. They only see the scars while I see the truth. The truth of you being the most handsome man that I have ever seen. I love you, Y/n. My husband, my soulmate.” Chris said, lifting your head and pressing his lips against yours.
Just like before, Chris was able to seal the voice. You melted into the kiss, his fuzzy beard rubbing against your chin as he pulled you closer. Letting out muffled moans as the kiss went into a make-out session.
(This is the smut part of the fic. If you aren’t comfortable with reading then do not proceed.)
As things get intense, Chris lifts and carries you to the bed, laying you down gently. You both pulled back to breathe. His eyes were filled with love and lust.
Chris hastily removed all of your clothing, leaving you exposed to his eyes. “You have an amazing boy, Y/n,” Chris said, getting in between your legs. You bite your bottom lip as Chris kisses and bite your thighs.
“Are you ready, pumpkin?” Chris said, wanting your confirmation, and you gave it to him. He immediately swallowed your dick. Your eyes roll back, moans escaping your mouth.
Your hands run through his soft brown hair, pushing his head deeper. Chris removes his mouth and begins swiping his tongue down your center. Licking up your wetness. Chris groans at the taste.
Chris could sense your climax as your grip on his hair tightens and your arching back. He quickly pulls away, licking his lips. He then removed his clothing until his briefs remained.
You whimpered at the size as he removed them. He was 6 inches and had nice thickness to the thing. “I need to prep you before moving forward.” Chris said, lubbing two fingers and pushing them inside you.
His thick fingers moved deeper inside you, stretching your hole to make it easier and less painful. Your moans and whimpers made Chris harder as he thrusts his fingers. “I think you’re ready, pumpkin.”
Chris pours a generous amount of lube on his cock, stroking it to make sure it's covered in the stuff. You feel him press his head against your opening. “Tell me to stop if I’m hurting you, okay?” you nodded your head.
He slowly pushed his cock. Groans and grunts as you clamp down around him. He continues to push deeper inside, making you arch your back and gripping the sheets. A shiver ran down your spine as he was now balls deep.
“Just give me a second…” you took deep breaths and closed your eyes to calm down. Chris leans down and kisses forehead before moving to your neck. He groans as your velvet walls tighten around him.
“Are you ready, my prince?” You smiled and nodded. He nodded and placed his hands on either side of your hips, slowly pulled out and pushed back in slowly. Both of you and Chris moan. He kept going slowly before speeding up.
Chris’s thrusts were precise, hitting all the right spots. “Oh, Chris,” you whined, head pushing against the mattress and hands gripping the sheets. He lets out a low growl as he fucked you faster and harder.
He throws his head back, eyes closing as he could hear the squelching noise that came from your hole along with your noises.
You reached down and began to rub your cock with Chris’s thrusts. Your hole clenching and pulsing around your husband’s cock. Both of your orgasms weren’t far behind. Chris could feel himself about to come.
“I-I’m about to cum…” Chris grunted as he gripped your hips. You bite your bottom lip. “Me too…” you are panting, hair sticking to your forehead.
After a few more thrusts, you came without a warning. Euphoria rushing through your veins, the world turning white. At the same time, Chris orgasmed after feeling your walls spasm around him.
Both you and him were covered in sweat and panting for air. He slowly pulls out and lays next to you. “I love you, Y/n. I will always love you.” you smiled and nuzzled into his neck.
“I love you too, Chris.”
THE END.
A/N: I hope this fic was good and the smut part! The next few requests will be a headcanon, like the one I made! Anyways, bye, my 🍓Little Strawberries🍓
