Alan Rickman Character One Shots

The Prisoner (🥄 NSFW)

Disclaimer: Blood and violence!

You sat in the cold lonely cell, your head resting against the wooden cot that was built into the wall.

The heavy oak doors flung open, you didn't look at them, today was your execution day. There was no point in pleading for your life now.

"You look so miserable." A voice rung out, the voice of a man you despised beyond anything. He had slaughtered both your father and brother.

"Wonder why." You answered back, messing with the chain on the cot.

Nottingham chuckled, "Cheer up (Y/L/N). I do have something for you before your big send off." Nottingham prowled around the cell, running his hands along the cold bars. "Remember when we were mere children... you always used to beg to play with the older children. Me... your brother... the Carltons..."

"You spat in my face and told me I wasn't good enough." You replied.

"Ah ah ah! Not me. I tried to convince them. And then when we were teens you let me deflower you."

Your jaw clenched and your face became red, looking away from George. "I don't want to hear-"

"You were so beautiful... so perfect.. bouncing up and down on my co-"

"Stop George." You commanded, "Is your goal to completely humiliate me before my execution?" You got up and walked to him, standing directly in front of him. The only thing keeping the two of you apart were the bars. "Because that's what you're doing."

George chuckled and grabbed your neck before you could step back. He slammed your face into the iron bars. "I want to give you a second chance." You pushed against the bars, trying your best to get away but George's grip was iron clad. George got close to your face, his nose brushing against yours. "Give me a good fucking... one last time. It'll decide your fate." He whispered.

You whimpered softly and George kissed you roughly before throwing you back into the cell. You gasped for air and coughed, your lungs trying to regain oxygen. George unlocked the cell door and threw it open, walking over to you and picking you up. "Do you comply?"

You nodded, a bit shamed and George smirked, "I knew you would whore." He ripped your pants open with a dagger he had tucked into his belt and grabbed your neck, once again slamming your face into the bars, bending you over.

You groaned softly and George discarded his leather gloves. He cupped your heat in his hand, feeling how hot and wet you were. "Goodness... you're practically dripping... aren't you?"

You blushed and restrained yourself from grinding back onto his hand. George unzipped his pants and suddenly his tip replaced his hand. He slowly dragged his cock through your folds, teasing your entrance. "Please George..." you breathed.

"Beg." He commanded.

"Please Sheriff... please fuck me into these bars until I can't see straight. Please give me another chance!" You grabbed onto the bars and George smirked, pushing into you.

"Such a tight little cunt... just like I remember..." He snarled. You moaned as he stretched out your walls, your body tried to shy away from him, pushing you further into the cold metal. It wasn't sanded down or smooth as all, the ridged edges dug into your skin.

George grabbed your hips and unsheathed his cock, just to slam back into you, going at a moderate pace, snapping his hips every few thrusts.

Your mouth hung open, George had of course improved. You could have sworn you felt a warm liquid drip from your chin onto the floor.

George was too caught up in his own pleasure to care about yours, "Fuck you feel so good." He moaned.

Your head was pounding and you were approaching your climax, the pain in your cheek adding to the entire experience. "George~" you called out, wiping the drool from your face.

George yanked you up and stepped back to the cot, sitting down. He held your throat, and held your hips in a tight grip, picking them up and slamming them back down. His eyes were closed and his head was resting on the cold brick. "You've always been my good little cockslut." He let you take over the pace you were going, and seeing as he wasn't close you tried hard to push your orgasm from your mind.

It was then that you felt George's fingers brush over your clit. You leaned back into him and moaned, beseeching for his touch. George smirked and kissed at your shoulder, starting to rub circles into your clit.

Your moan was gurgled by his tightened grip on your throat. Ecstasy and bliss were sent through your body in shockwaves as you came. "Fuck George!" You screamed as your walls clenched around him. George hummed and thrusted in and out of you a few more times before cumming.

He breathed heavily and took his hand off your throat. He saw the blood that has spilled onto his fingers and roughly turned your face to look at him. "You were bleeding?!" He asked, rage lacing his words. You nodded softly and he pulled out of you, tucking himself away. He laid you on the cot and reached under his many rich layers, ripping some of the fabric off of his white shirt. "The things I do for you people."

He placed it on the wound and cleaned his fingers. "Clean yourself up. I'll have a dress delivered to you. My quarters. Three hours." With that George stormed out of the dungeons, leaving you in the no longer cold room.