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littlelioncub43 · 2 years

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Business Before Pleasure

Summary: A newcomer wants to meet with you to talk business. Lloyd Hansen is a well known name in the arms and narcotics circles, and he has his sights set on your slice of territory. Lucky for him, you’re a gracious business partner.

Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x Mafia boss!Female Reader, mentions of Robert Pronge “Mr. Freezy” x Reader

Word count: 985

Warnings: Lloyd Hansen (he is a warning because he’s a dark, mean man [I love him for it]), suggestive themes, implied smut, swearing, misogynistic thoughts, mob related activities, drug mention, this is literally just plot NO porn (yet), my bad writing.

A/N: I literally had the hardest time writing this. I still need to learn the character and get better acquainted with him, his behavior, speech pattern, etc. But! I felt like Lloyd needed a proper introduction to the Murderer Monday rotation. This is in the same AU as Dark!Mafia Boss!Reader x Robert Pronge, so there could be some crossovers coming in the future. Let me know what you think! I dedicate this fic to @sparkledfirecracker. Thank you for your help with this, Lilo💖

Kisses💋

—K

The ticking of the vintage clock on the mantle echoed mockingly, the crackling of the fire added another layer of agitating noise. Lloyd’s grip of the crystal tumbler in his large right palm tightened as he watched the hand of the clock strike 11:45. You were late. If there was anything that Lloyd valued more than money, it was his time; and apparently you thought you could waste it. He’s never met you before, and so far, you weren’t making a good first impression. He hated doing business with women. They were far too emotional, complicated, and whiny for this line of work. But if he wanted to work on your turf, he was going to have to play nice.

To a degree.

Just as he tossed back the rest of the brown liquid in his glass, the wooden doors to your office opened. He didn’t bother turning to look at who was entering the room, thinking it was that butler with the stick up his ass asking if he wanted another scotch. If he was going to be anywhere near cordial, he was going to need another drink.

“Get me another one,” he shook the ice in his empty glass impatiently before setting on the coaster harshly.

“Now, is that anyway to speak to your host?” Your smooth voice cooed behind his leather arm chair. Lloyd’s head snapped around, all words die on his tongue as he drinks you in. The professional yet seductive curve of your work clothes had Lloyd’s belly burning with desire, but he quickly stamps it out. You walked towards your desk, setting your cellphone down before crossing the room. Your pencil skirt was tight around your legs, but you let your hips sway a little more than normal. Making your way towards him, you put a hand up when he begins to rise from his seat. “No, no, allow me.”

The casual dismissal of him has Lloyd’s jaw ticking with annoyance. You take his glass and walk to the bar cart to refresh it, pouring your own glass. If it were humanly possible, you would have a hole in the back of your head from how hard Lloyd was staring at you. Smirking to yourself, you return with his refill and hand it to him, taking the free seat in the arm chair next to his.

“Forgive me for being late, a few loose ends didn’t want to be tied.” Settling in, you sigh and take in the man in front of you. You knew his type: power-hungry, aggressive, ruthless, misogynistic, but very efficient. He reminds you of your little pet, Freezy. It would be a lie to say that he wasn’t one of the most handsome men you’ve seen, but business before pleasure.

“So,” you said after a moment, “you must be Lloyd,” you didn’t allow him time to answer as you continue on. “I heard that you wanted to talk about possible business ventures. What did you have in mind?”

“I want to set up a supply line from Miami up into New York and Chicago,” Lloyd states clearly and takes sip of the scotch, “I could have arms distributors in some of your clubs by the end of the week, and dealers by the end of this meeting. I have everything set, just waiting for the go-ahead.” Lloyd straightens out in his chair, adjusting himself into a more nonchalant position. The smirk that you assume was meant to be confident shines in the fire with a smug glint. You could feel the arrogance rolling off of him in waves. “I know you’ve heard of me, and you know what kind of business I run, so I don’t think you’ll have any objections.”

“I don’t,” you agree and sip your own drink, letting him revel in the small victory for a few moments longer. Lloyd grins, relaxing even more now that he has you where he wants you. Women are just so easy.

“Now for the price, I think 20% per club should cover everythi—“

“40.” You interrupt calmly.

“What was that?” His eyebrows lifted high on his forehead, his head tilting to the side to angle his ear towards you.

“It’s 40% per club,” you repeat. You barely fight off a pleased smile when you watch his face contort in a twisted smile. A throaty chuckle forces its way out of him, it’s malicious but amusing nonetheless.

“I’m sorry—40 fucking percent? Are you fucking shitting me?!” He barks with an unamused laugh, his firm grip on the tumbler returning once more. You say nothing, merely watching as he winds himself up and lets himself go. Another dark laugh rumbles in his chest, his clenched fist coming to rest on his chin. “Oh, I should have known you’d be a greedy bitch.”

“Lloyd,” you set your glass down and stand up. Making your way over to his chair, you lean over him slightly, your hands on the arm rests. Lloyd’s scowl deepens and this time you can’t help but smile. He hated that you thought this was amusing, although he loved that he could finally get a good look at you up close.

“I know you’ve heard of me, and you know what kind of business I run. 40% per club is the flat rate for newcomers. Unless…” you trail off. You tilt your head to the side when you catch sight of his pinky ring, “we negotiate other methods of payment.”

Lloyd feels the burn of desire in his belly again, this time he doesn’t bother trying to ignore it. “Oh? Like what, Sunshine?” He purrs as he sits up straighter, leaning into you so your faces were only inches away. You hold his darkened gaze for a moment longer before you both share a sickening grin.

“I’m sure we can think of something.”

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mypoisonedvine · 3 years

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Home for the Holidays | Robert Pronge (aka Mr. Freezy) x reader

summary: robert is tired of pretending to be normal, he’s tired of the shitty holiday known as christmas and he’s really fucking tired of watching his adorable, innocent next door neighbor without getting a real taste. luckily, he has a plan to solve all three of these things.

word count: a bit over 5k

warnings: smut (noncon, vaginal and anal), gunplay, bondage, stalking, kidnapping, slight-to-medium breeding kink, innocent!reader, lots of degradation, blood mention, pain kink, spitting, implied age gap (??? kinda), cringy and disturbing dirty talk, maaaaybe the darkest thing I’ve ever written… proceed with extreme caution

Robert hated the holidays. The fact that it was too cold to sell ice cream was a factor, sure, but he didn’t like anything else about them either— the cheesy music, the stupid advertisements on TV, the gaudy decorations everywhere… he wasn’t sure if there was anything he liked about this time of year. Getting gifts would be nice if he actually had any friends or family to do that with. Giving gifts sounded like too much fucking work anyway. He was sick and tired of this stupid holiday and the way it started sooner every year, too.

This year, when he heard Jingle Bell Rock on the radio for the first time of the season, something snapped. He wasn’t going to just sit idly by and let the holidays come and go. He wasn’t going to avoid and half-tolerate all the dreaded ‘cheer’ and ‘spirit’ like he had for the past few years. No no, this year was going to be different.

This year, he was going to get a Christmas present for himself: you.

He’d been watching you for a long time, since the day you moved in next door. It wasn’t often that a young woman lived alone around here, and for good reason. Still, you had this air of blissful ignorance about you— you never caught him spying on you, for one, and when he was spying you were always off in your own little world, listening to your records, daydreaming about god-knows-what. He wished he could know, because he figured it was something innocent and wholesome.

You weren’t all innocent and wholesome, though. He’d seen you doing the things you did when you were totally alone (or at least, you thought you were), late at night, cuddled up under the covers…

He wanted to see more, though. He wanted to see everything. And he was tired of waiting.

He was on his porch when you came home, and he waved; you waved back, your hands obscured by big fuzzy mittens. Damn did he miss the summers, when you would wear tank tops and short shorts and wash your car in the sunlight. Now you were all bundled up in coats and scarves, and even though you looked sort of adorable like this, he missed that perfect body he knew you were hiding under there.

You were bringing groceries in from the car, and he could see you had a few bags in the backseat. “That’s a lot to carry, lemme help you,” he offered as he jumped up from his seat and walked towards you.

“Oh, it’s fine, I’ve got it,” you dismissed, but you started to stumble and he had to catch you so you wouldn’t fall and drop your stuff. “Thanks,” you mumbled awkwardly as you caught your footing— you felt so good in his arms he could barely stand it.

“What is all this?” he asked as he glanced into the bags.

“Oh, uh, just Christmas stuff,” you explained. He furrowed his brow as he saw you had bought enough food to feed a whole family.

“Your folks comin’ into town or something?” he pressed, pulling one of the paper bags open to see inside. “Or are you hosting a party I didn’t get invited to?”

“Uh, neither,” you laughed, “my family doesn’t… no, they’re not coming. And there’s no party. I just love cooking Christmas food and I thought, why not? I mean, I’ll freeze whatever I can’t finish and have meals for the next month…”

“So you’re gonna make this whole ham just for yourself?” he clarified, admiring your ambition.

“Yep!” you grinned. “I know it’s stupid, but I just love Christmas and I don’t think I need to justify celebrating it to a grinch like you.”

“A grinch? Says who?”

“Freezy, you’re the only house on the block that hasn’t put up lights yet,” you smirked. “It’s sort of obvious you don’t like this time of year.”

“Are you kidding? I love Christmas! I’m just subtle about it, that’s all,” he decided sternly.

“Really? Are you going to see anyone for the holidays then?” you pressed.

“Uh, no, I’m sort of an… orphan, I guess you could say. No parents or siblings or anything like that.”

“No girlfriend?” you grinned, elbowing him playfully.

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” he laughed, “I just know a few women who would be really mad if they heard me say that.”

“You’re such a dog,” you rolled your eyes. “Will you help me carry these in or not?”

He sighed as he picked up two bags and carried them up to your porch, pushing the door open with his back to set them on your counters. He’d been inside your place a few times— mostly with you there, a few times when you weren’t— and he noticed how much you’d changed in the spirit of the season: an enormous, real pine covered in lights and ribbons; decorative ceramic figures all over the place including Santa, elves, reindeer, and even a nativity on the dining table; stockings on the mantle, god knows who those were even for.

You had literally decked your halls with boughs of holly.

“Damn, woman, you went all out!” he observed with wide eyes.

“Well, I thought it would be nice,” you smiled, although it was a somber smile, “you know, Christmas like it used to be…” you trailed off as your gaze became distant. You snapped back to reality with a little sigh, shaking it off and heading back to the car for another load of bags. He understood that emptiness he saw in your eyes, it was all he felt anymore. Maybe you could change that for him; maybe he could change that for you.

Aw, who was he kidding? He didn’t care about that. He just wanted to figure out what you were hiding underneath those puffy winter clothes. If the smell of your stolen panties was anything to go by, it was going to be worth the wait.

Christmas Eve was just as boring and cold as any other day, except that it was filled with a riveting anticipation. That was probably true for most people, but for Robert it was for something much more exciting than presents under the tree.

Nightfall came early, it being winter and all, so it was already pitch dark outside when it was just about time for him to go over for dinner. He considered smashing a window to get in, but then you might call the cops before he had time to explain, so he decided the easier method was just to knock on the front door. He didn’t really care who saw at this point— besides, who’d be staring out their window to spy on their neighbors the night before Christmas? Aside from Robert, that is.

“Oh!” you gasped when you answered the door. The dark red turtleneck looked even better on you up close, like you’d jumped right out of a Norman Rockwell postcard— or a festive pin-up. He didn’t wait for your approval before stepping in and shutting the door behind him, relishing the adorable look you wore as you stared up at him with the perfect mix of confusion and concern.

“I know you didn’t invite me,” he smirked, “but I figure two people alone on Christmas ought to be together, don’t you think?”

“Robert, I—”

He pulled his gun out from his belt, watching you freeze as he pointed it at you.

“I think you should start making dinner, sweetheart,” he instructed darkly. You nodded quickly, walking to the kitchen as he followed you closely. “What are you making?”

“H-ham,” you stuttered nervously as you turned on the stove before slipping on a cute little apron with white lace around the edges. “With green bean casserole, and some gingerbread for dessert.”

“Sounds delicious,” he grinned, taking a seat at the bar and keeping his gun pointed towards you.

Your hands were shaking as you tried to chop the ingredients, and he tutted a little in sympathy. “Don’t be scared, honey, ‘m not gonna hurt ya. It’s gonna be a great Christmas— just like the way it used to be, huh?”

“Y-yeah,” you shivered, lip quivering, “I… I wish you just would’ve asked if you could have some dinner, Robert, I would’ve happily had you.”

“Oh, you’re gonna have me either way. Up to you if you wanna be happy about it.”

He laughed as he watched your eyes start to water, a meek little sniffle

“Aw, don’t cry, pretty baby,” he cooed, “it’ll make me wanna skip right to the good stuff. But, let’s just have dinner first.”

You stayed quiet after that, cooking in silence as he unabashedly undressed you with his eyes. You looked like a perfect little housewife in that apron; he wanted to see you wearing just that, so he could bend you over the counter and—

Damn, he was already hard, just like that. You’d always had such an effect on him.

He went ahead and took a seat at the table once you were nearly done with the meal, leaning back to let you drape the fancy napkin over his lap (and smirking when you gasped a bit, obviously noticing the bulge in his jeans).

“I hope you like it,” you offered weakly as you set his plate in front of him.

“I’m sure you do,” he grinned, picking up his fork. “You won’t like what’s gonna happen if I don’t.”

You just stood beside him for a moment as he took the first bite, smiling weakly when he hummed in content at the taste. “Aren’t ya gonna eat?” he asked, looking you up and down.

“I’m not hungry,” you explained quickly.

“Suit yourself,” he shrugged, “it’s good. You’re quite the little chef, aren’t ya?”

“Um, I suppose…” you deflected awkwardly.

“Learn to take a compliment,” he hissed, “say ‘thank you.’”

“Thank you,” you replied dutifully.

“That’s better,” he announced firmly, shovelling the last bite of casserole into his mouth before working on the slices of ham. Your ability to follow instructions was a good sign for how tonight was going to go— apparently for all your naivete, you still had a self-preservation instinct. He couldn’t wait to exploit it.

He continued his meal in silence, delighting in the way your eyes watered and your lip quivered. “Alright, sweetie, dinner’s over,” he announced when he was finished. “Time for dessert.”

You shivered slightly as he stood up and approached you. “You want gingerbread?” you asked innocently. He frowned and shook his head, watching you start to cry again as he roughly grabbed your arm and pulled you closer.

“I had something even sweeter in mind,” he informed you with a low growl, taking a big whiff of your scent— that same shampoo smell he was used to by now, mixed in with the new perfume you’d gotten a few weeks ago along with the warm, spicy smells of Christmas. “Been waitin’ so long for this,” he groaned lowly as he leaned down to stare right into your fear-widened eyes.

“N-no, please,” you whimpered, weakly attempting to twist out of his grip, “you wouldn’t—”

“I would,” he disagreed as he turned his gun backwards, whipping you across the head with the handle. He caught you before you collapsed, and hoped you wouldn’t be hurting too much when you woke up. But he would deal with that then. Right now, he had a present to wrap.

There was a radiating ache in your skull. You felt that first as you groggily opened your eyes. The next thing you noticed was that you weren’t in your bed. Looking around, you couldn’t see well because the only light was from your Christmas tree, but you could see that you were naked and bound with ropes. Oddly enough, on top of the ropes was thick red ribbon, gathered in a big bow right at your chest.

What the fuck is going on? you were about to ask yourself, but then it all became clear.

The shadows shifted, and your neighbor emerged from them. You struggled against the ropes as you remembered everything, realizing what was happening. Of course you had always thought he was a bit creepy (who didn’t?) but you were nice to him and he was nice to you. How could you have known he was this disturbed?

“That’s my favorite part,” he purred as he stooped down to be eye-level with you. “The moment when they realize what’s going to happen. You were so peaceful just a moment ago, knocked out and without a care in the world, and now you’re fighting for your life.”

You whimpered into the gag as he smiled at you, running his hands over your skin.

“I mean, not fighting very well, but fighting.”

You tried to kick him as he stepped closer but the ropes made it impossible.

“I think it’s time to open my present, hm?” he grinned. You shook your head but he ignored you, slowly pushing your legs apart and growling a little when he saw your exposed pussy, ripe for the taking. “Look at that, you’re wet,” he laughed. You wrenched your eyes shut, refusing to believe this was happening. “Don’t be embarrassed, that happens a lot. Although I’ll admit, I don’t think any of them were ever this wet before…”

You jumped when his thumb started to rub your clit, the pressure much too intense and unexpected. He laughed at your struggle, and you could feel your walls throbbing in response to the stimulation.

“I know I didn’t need to do all this to get you in bed,” he continued his taunting rant. “I know you wanted me already— don’t think I didn’t notice you makin’ googly eyes at me like a dumb little schoolgirl. If I’d’ve asked you out, I could’ve had you under me after a few drinks… but it’s better this way. You probably would’ve made me wear a condom, would’ve made me be all gentle with ya, some wholesome missionary shit,” he laughed. “I don’t have time for that crap. It’s so much better with your body at my disposal, and you cryin’ those pretty tears.”

The shocks that shot up your spine from the way he was touching you made you feel like your body was betraying you. How could this actually feel good? How was it that the fear burning in your gut was actually adding to your pleasure and not nullifying it?

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he groaned as if he were reading your mind. “I know you love it, little girl, don’t act so innocent. I know you’re not the good girl everybody thinks you are. You’ve been naughty this year, haven’t you?”

Even though logic told you not to play into his twisted game, you felt compelled to shake your head ‘no.’

“Don’t lie,” he warned, “I’ve seen you. I’ve watched you play with this pretty pussy every fucking night.”

You couldn’t watch this any more, you couldn’t look at him while he did this to you. Forcing your eyes shut, you tried to find a place in your mind to run away to. Instead, he slapped you right on your clit and your eyes shot open as you whined.

“Keep looking,” he instructed. “I want you to see it. I want you to know that it’s me. I want you to see what I’m about to put in you.”

He stepped back and hastily discarded his shirt, making quick work of his boots and trousers, too. Then it was just his boxers, and you could see the outline of his erection already. You hoped it wasn’t as big as it looked, but then he grinned as he pulled the fabric down and yep, it was— you tried to squirm away, uselessly.

“Aw, don’t be scared, baby,” he pouted, “I know it’s big, but with how wet you are I bet it’ll fit like a glove. A really, really tight glove…”

He leaned down and pressed his lips right against your ear, rubbing his swollen head through your slick folds as you whined.

“Gloves can tear,” he chuckled. “Gloves can rip.”

Tears stained the ribbon of your gag as you tried to beg him not to, but it was too late— he was pushing forward and spearing you onto him.

“Fuck!” he groaned as he pushed all the way to the hilt, and your eyes rolled back as the stinging, burning pain shot up your spine. “So fuckin’ tight, fuck, can’t believe I waited this long to get my hands on you.”

He pulled the gag down, smiling at you tenderly when you coughed out a cry of pain. “Please,” you sobbed, “please stop…”

“No no, babygirl, I’m not gonna stop. I wanna fill this slutty little cunt with my come.”

Renewed sobs shook your chest as your nails dug into your own palms, each thrust somehow going even deeper than the last, somehow hurting even more.

“Want my come, pretty girl?” he pressed, refusing to let you ignore him. “Want me to shoot my load into this sweet pussy a’yours?”

“No,” you sobbed weakly, shaking your head, “no, no…” you trailed off, chanting it like a mantra as you felt like you might pass out.

“Aw, you’re not on the pill, are you?” he realized with a toothy grin. “Never saw any empty packs in your trash. Are you worried I’ll knock you up?”

“Please, please don’t,” you shivered. There was nothing quite as demeaning as having no recourse but to beg even when you knew it would do nothing. The only thing that came close was the knowledge that your orgasm wasn’t so far off— his cock was slamming right into your spot with every movement, his hips rubbing your swollen clit, and it was impossible to avoid the pleasure that was making your walls tighten around him.

“How could I not?” he countered. “Fuck, you feel so good, how could I not breed this dripping, desperate cunt, hm? There’s no way I’m pulling out now when you’re squeezin’ my dick so good like this.”

“Please,” you repeated, so quiet you couldn’t be sure he heard it at all. You could hardly breathe with his weight on your chest, black static dancing at the edges of your peripheral vision.

“I’ll be honest— I hate kids,” he growled, “never wanted ‘em, but it does sound like a lot of fun to get you pregnant. Would you like that, pretty baby? Bein’ full of my kid? I’d be so nice to watch you get big and know it was all my fault. Think of it like a Christmas gift, from one neighbor to another.”

“Robert, please!” you cried, although it sounded a lot like you were begging him for more as opposed to begging him for mercy. You weren’t sure how that happened, except that you could feel the coil in your gut tightening and tightening and tightening until it finally fucking snapped and you choked on nothing, your walls fluttering as a gush of wetness seeped out between your bodies.

“That’s it,” he groaned, “fuck, what a nasty little skank you are, Jesus… coming so hard from being tied up and abused by your neighbor, who knew you were a total freak?”

You couldn’t say anything, you couldn’t even think as hazy pleasure flooded your brain and you went limp in his oppressive grasp. Exhaustedly, you slumped down and let him use you— all you could do now was hope he would finish soon.

“I mean, I knew,” he laughed, “but damn… you’re somethin’ else.”

He said it with pride in his voice, as your entire body burned with shame. How had you already given in so quickly, accepted your fate and come harder than you ever had before? It sort of made sense that this would be more intense than what you got from getting yourself off at night (and the thought that he’d been watching you made your stomach churn), but why was this so much better than the sweet, loving sex you’d had with your boyfriend way back when, before he’d run out on you? Why was Robert, as disturbed as he was, the best you’d ever had?

“God, you’re so wet, I can fucking smell you,” he grunted through his teeth. “You made such a pretty mess on my cock, babygirl.”

You could hear that he was right, you could feel the wetness that had dripped down to cover both of you— the wet slapping of his balls against your ass was disgusting, yet arousing, and you hated yourself for it.

“Shit, I’m close,” he moaned, “fuck yeah, just like that.”

You weren’t sure what he was referring to until you realized you were arching your back, forcing his cock to hit your overstimulated spot directly. It made jolts of electricity course through your veins, pleasure sizzling just beneath your skin.

“Kiss me,” he instructed, and you were too far gone to disobey as you turned and captured his lips in a kiss, instantly accepting his tongue into your mouth. It was sloppy and forceful and kinda gross and he tasted like Christmas dinner and cigarettes, but it made your walls tighten around him again anyways. Something about his beard against your face made you moan a little, the sound lost into his mouth but unfortunately not unnoticed. “Fuck, I know you love my cock so much,” he purred, pulling back only as much as he needed to to speak— he was so close that his lips brushed yours with every word, those dark eyes staring right into yours until you felt entirely helpless to his gaze.

“Please,” you whimpered, not even sure what you were asking for.

“Best pussy I’ve ever had, you know that?” he praised, grinning as you bit down on your lip. “Yeah, you love being my good girl, you love pleasin’ me, don’tcha?”

“I— I don’t—”

“Just nod your head, dumb baby,” he grunted coldly. After a moment of hesitation, you nodded ever so slightly and he moaned above you.

“Fuck— gonna come,” he informed you breathlessly, “gonna fill up your wet fuckin’ hole, ‘m so close, ah fuck—”

The first pump of his cock painted your insides and you cringed as you tried not to moan at the feeling. His come was hot and thick as it filled you, the faltering thrusts of his hips making your swollen walls flutter weakly. It felt like it would go on forever— his weak groans in your ear, his thick cock pulsing inside you, your breathing quick and fast until it felt like you weren’t getting any air in your lungs at all. It stopped, finally, as he sighed and relaxed a little bit.

“Goddamn,” he breathed as he pulled out of you, making you both wince. Already you felt soreness radiating from your opening, and your face burned as he looked down between your legs. “Look at that, what a perfect little pussy I just ruined. It’s all stretched out and red and covered in my come,” he announced proudly. “There’s a little blood, too, but you’ll be better in no time,” he assured with a smirk. “Red and white— it’s sort of festive, don’t you think?”

You swallowed down the acid threatening to come up your throat— of course he was disturbed, but did he have to be so disgusting?

Again, it was like he read your mind as he grabbed your jaw and forced you to open your mouth, spitting onto your tongue before commanding you to swallow it. Just when you thought you’d reached the limits of his depravity, he found some new way to up the ante. What worried you most, though, was the fact that he’d already come and hadn’t left yet. Deep down, you knew it wasn’t over yet, but you hadn’t accepted it consciously.

“Such a good slut for me,” he praised through his teeth, “I bet I can go again, fuck, you turn me on so much.” Pulling back a bit and gripping his cock at the base, you squirmed a little as you looked at it. “You see this? I’m still hard. You make me feel like a fuckin’ teenager again, I swear.”

“I can’t…” you sighed weakly, your voice sounding all cracked and whiny as it moved through your sore throat. “I can’t take it again…”

“Don’t worry,” he soothed, “I’m gonna give your poor cunt a break… so I can rape this cute little ass.”

“No!” you yelped. “Please! Not there!”

He slapped you quickly before maneuvering two fingers to your other hole, teasing it as he laughed at your pre-emptive wince.

“It’s not gonna be so bad, baby, I’m gonna get you ready for it first, see? I bet you’ll love it, nasty little thing like you.”

The first finger slipped in with a little pop as the tight ring of muscle shifted to accommodate him. You’d never had anything go up that way before, and it was nothing like you could’ve imagined. Hissing in a breath through your teeth, you whimpered as he added a second finger already.

“Just relax,” he instructed. “Not that I don’t love you gripping my fingers with your tight little hole, but it’ll hurt less if you just let it happen.”

You willed your muscles not to tighten even as he twisted his fingers inside you, moving slowly until he was buried all the way to the knuckle and then finally pulling back. The third was a bit more of a challenge as he opened you wider, your fists clenching at the sting of pain. He let his come drip down from your pussy to use as lube, which was undoubtedly the filthiest thing you’d ever experienced. You tried to keep quiet and relax as he told you to, but your fight was renewed slightly as he pulled his fingers out and lined up his cock with your hole.

“Please,” you shivered, “don’t do this…”

“When are you gonna stop fucking fighting it, huh? How stupid are you? You’re tied up on the floor, I already made this pussy mine and you fucking loved it, how much more obvious could it be that I’m gonna do this? You’re fucked. It’s over. Just accept it and I’ll make it good for you.”

“This can’t be good for me,” you hissed through your teeth.

“Well, in that case,” he groaned, interrupting himself as he roughly shoved his cock into your ass. The air was punched from your lungs as pain burned white-hot through your body— it didn’t feel like his fingers had done much to prepare you at all, with the way this hurt. As soon as you had the oxygen needed to do so, you were crying again, loud sobs echoing around your dark, empty living room. “I was gonna be gentle,” he taunted you darkly, “but you had to run that mouth of yours.”

You tried to choke out an apology, but it was useless as he shoved his fingers into your mouth.

“Suck on ‘em, show me what your mouth is good for,” he demanded as you closed your lips and swirled your tongue around his fingers. “Fuck, that’s better. See how good it is when you know your place?”

You couldn’t really process his words, though, as you spent all your energy on trying not to think about how his cock felt in your ass. It was like being full in a completely different way than before, like being opened wider than you knew was possible. He pulled his fingers from your mouth and you hated the moan that spilled out after them.

“Your cunt is getting wet,” he sing-songed mockingly as he leaned back and looked down at it. “You love it up the ass, huh? Dirty bitch.”

You shook your head in denial (even though you could feel that he was right, at least about the first part), but he grabbed your jaw and forced you to look at him.

“Say it,” he grunted. “Admit it, slut. Admit you love getting fucked up the ass.”

“I…” you whimpered, barely able to get the words out even though you knew you needed to if you wanted to prevent him from hurting you worse. “I love… getting fucked—” you stopped to swallow the lump in your throat— “up the ass.”

He backhanded you, hard, right across the face. You cried and gasped all at once, choking on air from the force of the hit. “WHORE!” he yelled right in your face.

You sobbed uncontrollably as he fucked you with more brutality than you’d known was possible. “Please,” you tried to beg, even if you knew it was useless, but it was totally incomprehensible as you shook with the force of your cries, hissing in breaths through your teeth to try to cope with the pain.

“Thought it would take me a while to come again, but your ass feels so goddamn good— fuck, I’m close already. Want me to fill up that tight little ass?”

You shook your head as you sobbed, shaking violently against the confines of the ropes. Distantly, you heard the chimes of your clock in the other room.

“You hear that?” he whispered. “That means it’s midnight— it’s Christmas.”

He leaned in until his hot breath tickled your ear and neck, making you wish you could turn your head away more than just a few centimeters.

“Merry fucking Christmas,” he purred, just as you felt his cock swell and pulse inside you. Your eyes rolled back as you wondered if you’d ever been so full before.

It was a haze after that as he gently untied you, getting his gun out again and keeping it trained on you as he followed you to the bathroom and forced you to shower. Force was a bit of an overstatement, though, considering your desire to clean him off of you as much as possible. “I’m not gonna tell anyone, Robert,” you tried to calm him down as you shivered under the stream of water that hadn’t quite warmed up yet.

“Yeah, well, just in case,” he insisted as he waved the gun pointed in your direction. “Wash between your legs real good, push my come out.”

“Not gonna matter if you knocked me up like you said,” you reminded him. “A paternity test will be evidence enough.”

“Shut up,” he grimaced. “Can’t prove you didn’t want it, anyway. We both know you did.”

You didn’t respond to that, opting to shower silently instead and wincing every time you tried to clean between your legs. You were going to be sore for days, if not weeks.

“We both know I’m gonna be back for more real soon,” he added darkly. “Too good for just one night.”

#robert pronge x reader #mr. freezy x reader #robert pronge noncon #robert pronge smut #mr freezy smut #mr freezy noncon

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