#x mreader

There you were, sat on Crowley's lap in his empty throne room with your jeans unzipped and tugged low enough for Crowley to fist your weeping length. Your breath stuttered, the air in your lungs punched out as his grip tightened around your base before sliding up to the head to thumb at your slit. His thumb wiped at the precum that accumulated, smearing it across your reddened tip.

“Feels good, don't it, pet?” Crowley grinned, a hand on your hip as you writhed and squirmed. “There we go. Told you, honeybee. Doesn’t have to hurt, does it?” A choked out noise escaped you as he twisted his wrist, nodding quickly. “Mm- mhm- good, rea- ohfuck- really good, Crow,” you stammered, hips involuntarily rutting against his warm hand. He tuts. “Of course. Nothing less for my pet.”

His hand went back down to your base then back up again, tightening his grip at the tip, repeating this motion over and over. His hand was slick with your pre with a wet schlick sound every time he stroked you. Your thighs were tense as you tried not to rut into his hand, shaking when he pulled you closer to rest your forehead on his shoulder to whisper directly into your ear.

“Here we go, dear. That brutish ex of yours didn't have a clue how to touch you, did they?” He crooned, voice warm and low in your ear, his breath fanning against your flesh. You couldnt help how you nodded, agreeing with whatever he said as long as he kept touching you. You were already so close and his voice might just send you over the edge. You're sure he'd love that. Seemed crowley could tell you were near, too. “Going to cum yet, pet?” he chuckled, grip tightening around your base. “Do you think you deserve it, honeybee? Do you deserve to cum?”

tagged (should I make a taglist for Crowley 👀)

@crowleyshunter

"God, Otto, how can you be so soft?" You groaned, your words muffled as your face was buried on his wide chest. It was like lying on a warm pillow that had its own heartbeats and that eventually raised or lowered.

He answered with a loud belly laugh, his body moving with it and so it was your face "Soft? You're laying beside a supervillain, boy. I don't think soft is a very accurate word."

You lifted your sight to look at him, raising an eyebrow as questioning his words

"Supervillain, right? Oh, I am so scared" You joked after you raised your hand to grasp a metal claw that happened to be passing next to you. You started to caress gently the metal pieces while looking into the doctor's eyes.

"For being so dangerous" you emphasized the adjetive with a dramatical hand gesture "You haven't harmed me once, why don't you hurt me right now? I've got your pretty evil tiny gripper right here". The claw chirped confused, first at you and then at the Otto, why would it hurt you?

He sighed, "How could I ever hurt you, my dear boy?" He allowed his proudness walls fall a little. Just for you, just because the comfort of the situation, comfort you helped him achieve. "You're the most precious thing I have"

Ah, what a pity that he noticed too soon how cheesy he was being.

"But... that doesn't mean I'm not able to do horrible things!" He excused himself, "I have terrorized thousands, I have made a hell out of their lives and I do not regret any of it! This city fears me, boy." He continued while slowly raising, his face getting closer and closer to your impassive one, his bare teeth exposed as a primal show of intimidation and his eyes were piercing yours with false rage.

You couldn't help it at his efforts and giggled soundly at how he tried to intimidate you; you had seen him in the most embarrassing situations, you had shared the cutest moments with him and, damn, you just saw him overestimulated under your body, turned into a shaky mess. "Easy there, scary man" you snickered while giving him little pats on his shoulder.

It was physically impossible for him to hurt you or for you to feel intimidated by him, you both knew it, but you just looved to mess around with him about it.

"Sorry, I just can't see you as evil, you're too cute!" you said between giggles, still caressing the claw, just to end up leaving a little peck on top of it.

Otto sighed heavily in defeat and laid back again, closing his eyes, but he didn't try to take the actuator out from your grasp. You lied beside him and looked sweetly in his eyes.

"You know, I still think you're a pretty intimidating supervillain" you said while hugging his claw gently as if it were some kind of plush.

He didn't respond, but you saw how his eyes softened.

He really didn't have had a good streak lately, spiderman always dismantling his plans or taking his hostages out of him without too much effort. In addition, his experiments were not going as planned and his lab was full of scattered scrap and broken gadgets because of his tantrums.

"Also, I think you're an amazing scientist"

"I know" he dryly answered, his brow slightly furrowing. You looked back at the claw between your hands "Sometimes I don't think you really do" you muttered softly.

He turned his head to you with a serious expression, watching how you peacefully traced the pieces of his metal limb. He remained silent but passed and arm around your shoulders, holding you closer. You silently accommodated your head on top of his chest, letting his hand caress your face while your arms still clasped his claw.

"Thanks, for everything" he finally whispered, closing his eyes and nuzzling into you, you smiled softly and reciprocated his gentle love.

"Uhm... I know you like my actuators but, please, let it go -I can feel them and you're really turning me on with all those pettings"

"Oops, sorry. My bad." you snorted as you let his artificial limb free, which chirped sadly but moved away from you to return with the others.

"Although can't believe you have energy for another round, old man"

He ignored your comment and only bothered to roll his eyes. You remained silent and after a few minutes of him playing with your hair and you drawing circles on his chest, an idea popped I your mind and you were eager to share it.

"So" you started hesitantly, breaking the silent atmosphere "You wanna eat out of something? Unless you already have a date with spiderman, or the lab, of course" you said without looking at him. "I think my plan of helping you relax has succeed, so I declare you a free man now."

"I guess I could take the entire day off, did you have something on mind?"

Your face light up and you were fast to nod at his question "Well, since I can't go to a restaurant with my dear boyfriend because he is the most wanted villain in all of the United States and he has, you know, four gigantic metallic claws on his back" You started, earning a roll of eyes and a frown of his brow, "what do you think about a roof date?" You finally looked at him, your eyes shining like little pleading suns.

He just couldn't resist that sight and you knew it too well. Also, he had to admit that it had been a while since you guys got out and the idea of relaxing with you on top of a skyscraper, covered by bright stars, laying on some soft blanket while eating something or just chatting was really something tempting.

"I like the idea. You can go get ready as I go to buy some food, any preference?"

You immediately jumped off the bed and glared at him. You poked his chest "Don't even think of crossing that door before I come back to pick you up, old man. This is your relaxing day and you're not allowed to set foot outside unless it's for a relaxing purpose."

He pinched the bridge of his nose in defeat as he sighed deeply. "Alright, just stop speaking so loud already, boy -you're going to give me a headache"

You giggled and softly kissed his nose before heading out of the bedroom, "I've left your favourite shampoo next to the shower! Also, clean clothes are folded above the drawers in the closet in case you want to use them!"

He muttered a low "thanks you" you weren't able to heard though he knew it wasn't necessary either.

It was only when Otto found himself alone on your shared bed that he felt the unpleasant sensation of a dry, sticky fluid between his legs and the before forgotten back pain. He pulled back the sheets with a disgusted face and headed to the bathroom. It was true, his favourite shampoo was laying on the sink along a yellow post it with a heart on it.

Otto took it off so it wouldn't get wet and made sure to keep it safe. He never said it but he loved your little notes, even the silly little ones with animal fun facts or terrible knock knock jokes.

He got into the shower and turned on the hot water, instantly relaxing and the contact it made with his sore skin. His claws chirped excited as they played with the drops and the soap and Otto finally felt fully peaceful at the lack of their usual, violent thoughts. Though, since he started his relationship with you, he had to admit that his actuators had calmed down and now they even had pretty thoughts about you.

However, he made sure to accept your suggestion and relaxed, trying his best to push the usual million thoughts he would have to the back of his mind. His body welcomed the sensation instantly.

After his shower he did as you said and looked in his closet, where he found the black turtleneck sweater and the dark pants he was wearing just before your...encounter. They were both clean and smelled as if cologne had been sprinkled on them. God, how long had you been awaken before him? He was getting embarrased just at the thought of you watching him sleep —something he was sure you had done more than a few times—.

He took the same sweater since he knew it was your favorite but chose another pair of pants. He wiped his small sunglasses before putting them on and made sure to give himself a quick comb. He even decided to give his actuators a little wipe so they could be all shiny and pretty.

All done! All he would need to do then was to wait for you in the living room, so he took a science magazine that was on the coffee table and gave it a look to kill some time.

-

It wasn't long until you appeared in the front door, a wide grin painted on your face as you showed him bags of snacks.

"I'm here Otto- Oh! You really are stunning" You complimented when you saw his outfit as he got up and approached you. The red that crept to his cheeks because of the unexpected compliment making him even cuter.

"Thank you..." He scratched his neck, "Are you ready to leave?"

"In a minute, I still need to get dressed up all fancy for you", you giggled and winked at him as you let him pick the bags you were carrying, "Why don't you get some blankets meanwhile? I won't be long" and so, you rushed to your room without waiting for an answer.

With the help of his actuators, Otto gathered some blankets and waited for you to return. When you did, dressed up in your favourite outfit as a sweet smell of cologne left your clothes, Otto couldn't help but blush a dark red.

You giggled softly and kissed his cheek before extending your arm and offering it for him for take, just like an old, corny couple. And so, an actuator put on him his dark fedora, that could half-hid his blush too, and you took a jacket for the night's cold.

"Shall we?" Otto asked while opening the door as his actuators beeped and screeched excitedly around. You giggled at his manners and their difference with his actuators' personality and nodded at his question, already taking a step out of the house,

Dry coughing permeated Bobby singer’s house as you sat hunched over, ignoring Sam’s incessant fussing as he tried to get you to lay down. “fFffuck no, man… I’m so congested I might suffocate and pass if I lay down,” you groan, throat hoarse and voice shaky as you tried your best to glare at him. Sam just stares at you with that look on his face — the one with the pursed lips, raised brows and large eyes — crossing his arms. “You wouldn’t be in this scenario if you had just stood under the bus stop and not three feet away and in the rain for ten minutes.” You just grumble, accepting the tea he offers you. The steam warms your sinuses, providing some relief as you sip at the chamomile and honey goodness. He pulls the mug away while checking the time, placing the tea down on the coffee table as he gets up. “Where‘re you going..?” you call out to him. He returns shortly with a grin, shaking an orange bottle. “Your meds! Left them in the other room.” He shakes a couple pills into his palm, returning the rest as he hands you a tablet of paracetamol. You take it bregrudgingly, placing it on your tongue as Sam lifts your water bottle to your lips, swallowing down the tablet and water. Only once Sam’s forced at least a cup of water down your throat did he relent, placing a pillow by your back, pressing a kiss to your temple, laughing as you bat at him weakly.

You break into another fits of coughs as Sam goes to fetch you your book. By the time he returns, you’re standing, swaying on your feet as you hold your water bottle, staring blankly into space. Sam calls out your name, guiding you back to the couch with a laugh. When you finally sink into the cushions, you feel the lethargy truly kick in. Sam, as always, notices. He presses you down and you finally relent, limp as he covers you with your favourite blanket. “Just sleep, alright? I’ll wake you for your meds in four hours.” You nod, head lolling to the side as he pulls off your glasses. “Kay… Love you, Sam..” “Love you, too.”

taglist:

n/a

Pinned down with nothing but a leather collar and chain leash, you could do nothing but drool into the pillow beneath you as Crowley's body hovered over you, thick cockhead finally popping into your slick hole, red rimmed and twitchy from his fingers and mouth. He wasn't lying when he said torture was how he showed his love. When he finally pushed further, you felt tingles go up and up your spine, sparks behind your eyes as his girth filled you up in a way nothing else had before. “So good f' me, Honeybee,” he crooned in that deep, gravelly voice that always had your lower belly tingly. A whine escaped you as you lifted your hips off the pillow under it, clutching onto anything within your reach on Crowley’s large, red satin covered king-sized bed. “Tut, tut, sweet thing. Just take what your king gives you…” You simply shuddered, aching impossibly for more. More of him in you, on you, whatever he'd give to you and then some. “Crowley,” you'd beg, plead, needing him deeper. His stomach and chest press against your back, pushing you deeper into the soft mattress, the weight settling a bit of the ache in you. He presses a hand against your neck, fingers wrapping around the curve of it with something akin to possession. “Such a pretty thing, you are…” His fingers dug into the flesh of your neck as he pressed his length in deeper, the tip bullying your insides open. His free hand traveled down from your sternum to your hip, pressing you further into the satin as he slowly presses further and further until his hips meet yours, buried as deep as your bodies allowed. You swear you feel him in your actual intestines.

Being Crowley's, in body, mind, and soul, meant a lot of things. It meant luxury, taste, and culture many dream of experiencing and could never afford to even glance at. Expensive fabrics that hugged or drapes over your form with tailored precision; wines and drink that have such unique flavor profiles older than your great grandparents; delicacies and treats made with an artistry reserved for the elite; Servants to assist your every movement, never letting you strain even a finger. All things Crowley provides with excess, as if it was something normal, the bare minimum, all in exchange for your devout loyalty and belonging. As long as you are his, he is yours.

And you're his as you lay before him in the old money luxury suite he's gotten for you on a golden altar, bare with nothing but a fluffy white hand towel covering your delicate parts as Crowley uncaps a bottle of his favourite whiskey; Craig Scotch. He trails a hand up your pelvis, stopping at your navel as he tips the bottle, cool liquid dribbling onto your skin leaving it glistening and wet. He places the whiskey onto a nearby table, hand drifting down to your thigh as his tongue presses flat against your lower stomach, trailing up to your navel before slurping up the liquid that pooled in your belly button as he gazed up at you with intensity.

You fail to hold back the full body shiver as he picks up the bottle once more, his usual, sleazy grin returning to his features as, once more, he tips the bottle, whiskey once more pouring over your skin. He watches with barely contained lust as he saturates your flesh with the scotch, placing the bottle down once more. The whiskey's dripping down your chest, Crowley's eyes watching each amber bead of alcohol with sharp eyes. He cups your jaw, thumb idling on your lower lip as he guides you to sit up as he pours more of the scotch over you, liquid soaking the white fabric that covered your cock. With a glance you part your lips and he pours scotch into your mouth, pulling the bottle lip away to replace it with his own, swallowing down both the whiskey and your taste until you're both panting and flushed, you moreso than him.

Already you were feeling the alcohols effects as he away, swaying as he pulled you in for another messy kiss; The only thing stabilizing you, the hand on the back of your neck as he pulls you in closer, tongue swiping against your bottom lip. You cling to him as he kisses you silly, gripping onto his suit vest, chest to chest. Then there's a pleasurable grip around your length and you're moaning, high and whiny as he strokes you slowly, trailing his mouth from your lips to your neck, his voice low as he cooes words dripping with honey into your soul, the words muddled and incomprehensible to your mind yet they fill you with warmth all the same.

Your orgasm is slow, delicate, teetering on mind numbing as Crowley brings you pleasure in the way only he can, memorizing every single nerve he knows that will bring you to climax. And as you come down from your peak, as slow and delicate as the crescendo of your orgasm, Crowley's already got you in his arms, a hand on your hip as his other massages your balls, pressing kisses to your neck, littered with hickeys you dont remember him giving you, but knowing they're all his anyway. And when you two bathe together later, lax as Crowley once again dotes on you, truly, you are his, and he is yours.

Taglist (if u wnna be tagged for Crowley fics, just say so!)

@crowleyshunter

Your knees were cushioned on a velvet cushion, the silk cover reflecting off your skin. Crowley's fingers carded through your hair, well groomed nails gently running across your scalp as he applied gentle pressure. He pushed your head lower, his girth filling your throat just right, leaving your mind blissfully empty as you drooled around his cock, suckling mindlessly. Your jaw was slack, tongue pressing onto the underside of his length as more slipped deeper into your throat. You were breathing through your nose, lashes damp and clumping together as you inhaled his scent, his musk, nose buried in his trimmed pubic hair.

His voice was washing over you as if through a muffled filter, affection pouring out of his mouth as you swallowed him down. Once you had taken as much as you could fit, the pressure on the back of your head lessened, Crowley's hand moving to your cheek.

Time passed like that, a warm fuzziness filling your limbs leaving you numb and limp, held up by his cock in your mouth and his thighs beside your head. You'd even fallen asleep at some point, mind foggy with his smell.

When he eventually pulled you off him, you couldn't help but protest, yet you were unable to say anything, only able to let out an indignant noise as he stroked himself, his cum splattering across your face. He let out a coo, the words unintelligible as he smeared his release across your cheek down to your lips, pushing the sticky fluid into your mouth and onto your tongue, pacifying you as you began to suckle on that, instead. He simply chuckled above you.

tagged

@crowleyshunter