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atomicami · 6 months

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cami would you write a sub abby? like maybe where she needs your help to get off?🤭🩷

my sweet dani, that mind of yours truly is incredible…i wrote this one just for you querida 🤍

close call

contractor!abby anderson x joel’s daughter!reader

- summary: it’s the night before the annual bake sale, and abby needs your touch now more than ever.

- content: smut MDNI, no outbreak/modern au, contractor/engineer!abby, texas living, no sarah, joel & jerry are still alive (jerry is not a doctor in this), reader has a business degree, abby gets needy, sneaking out, oral & fingering (a!receiving), masturbation (r), abby whimpering and begging?? and i think that’s it but lmk if i missed anything

- author’s note: well if i’m being honest i really did not expect to be writing another contractor!abby fic so soon, but this request gives so much desperate contractor!abby energy that i just had to do it. however i do have to clarify that this is not a part 3. i’ve stated this before in one of my asks, but part 3 is going to be more about the bake sale…this is just more of a little bonus chapter i guess.

anyways, this one’s for you dani, and for all of my contractor!abby fans out there that need a little pick me up rn. i hope y’all enjoy it 🫶🏻

You didn’t expect to be doing it again so soon.

After you had snuck your way out of work to go see Abby at her father’s contracting site, you have to admit that the rest of this week flew by surprisingly fast for you.

You had been keeping yourself occupied in the meantime, between doing customer calls at work and preparing for the bake sale, you’ve been quite patient with yourself and didn’t feel the need to have to sneak out again until the next time you’d plan to see Abby. It was almost as if you simply had just been sick that day, and Abby’s touch was the remedy that cured you.

Although…there might be a feeling that you’ve jinxed yourself in saying so when you receive a phone call the night before.

You spent the morning on your work shift as usual, and your dad was generous enough to let you go before lunchtime so you could start baking for the sale tomorrow. After spending the rest of your day prepping, mixing, baking, and decorating, you were left with a variety of fresh pastries by sundown, ready to sell the next morning.

By the time you finished cleaning up the kitchen and getting ready for bed, the clock struck 10 p.m. Normally you’d stay up a little longer, but after the exhausting day you’ve had today, you genuinely needed to rest for tomorrow. You had to be downtown by 7 a.m. to set up at the farmer’s market for the bake sale. Given how weary you were, it didn’t take long for you to fall asleep.

However, you were only able to get a few hours of sleep in before your phone began to ring.

The sound of your ringtone startles you awake. Letting out a tired groan, you muster up the energy to reach over to your nightstand to turn on your light and pick up your phone to see who was calling you.

“Abby?” you whisper to yourself, rubbing your eyes to get a better look at the screen. Once you do, the phone call disappears and your lock screen shows with the missed notification, giving you a chance to look at the time.

It was barely past 1 a.m. Why the hell was she calling you this late?

Her contact name shows up once again in a second call, and this time you swipe to answer.

“Abby…what is it?” you answer groggily to her.

“Hey…are you awake?” she asks shyly.

You roll your eyes before responding. “I am now.”

“Look, I’m sorry if I did wake you up, but I really need you right now…”

Her words start to replay in your head. The tone she had in her voice…she didn’t sound like her usual, cocky self. She sounded desperate…kind of like how you were the last time you saw her.

“Abby, it’s one in the morning…what is it that can’t wait until later?”

You knew what she was asking for, you just needed to make her say it. Kind of like how she made you tell her last time.

“I um…I can’t get myself off,” she muttered back. It was quiet, but not quiet enough to where you couldn’t hear her.

You simply nod, soon remembering that she couldn’t see you right now. “Alright, um…do you have your boxers on, then?”

“No—I mean, yes I do, but I don’t mean this…I need you to come over.”

You scoff at her through the phone. She truly can’t be serious. Having to do this over the phone would already be difficult enough for you. But to sneak yourself out in the middle of the night to do so? It was going to be too much.

“Abby, you can’t be serious right now—“

“Come on, baby, don’t be like that…My dad isn’t even home right now, please?”

“Okay, but my dad is.” You reply to her instantly. “There’s no way I’m gonna be able to get out of my house without waking him up.”

You keep trying to tell her that it’s not going to work out, but Abby continues to beg about it. As much as you wanted to, it clearly wasn't the right time to do so. But eventually, you just had to give in.

“Okay, fine! I’ll come over…” you said, quickly lowering your voice down. “Just…just give me five minutes.”

After hanging up the phone, you get up from your bed, taking the time to stretch in the process. Grabbing the first pair of shoes you find, you quickly slip them on before grabbing your phone and keys and exiting your room.

Once you’ve shut the door, you begin to tiptoe down the hall as to not wake up your father. The door of Joel’s bedroom was slightly cracked open, and you could see that he was fast asleep. You quietly pass by his bedroom and make your way down the stairs, praying that the wood doesn't start creaking from the weight of your footsteps.

Before you know it, you’ve successfully made it out the door, and you begin to cross the street to Abby’s place. Once you’ve made it to her front door, your phone buzzes again.

“Abby: there’s a spare key under the mat.”

Jesus. The least she could’ve done was to have let you in her own house, especially since you had to do most of the work sneaking yourself out.

You reach down and slide your hand under the doormat, quickly finding the key that was hidden underneath before unlocking the door and letting yourself in. It’s the first time you’ve been inside Abby’s house, and you’re not bothered to even get a good look at it, you just needed to find her right now.

After wandering throughout her house for what feels like forever, you finally find her bedroom. Not even bothering to knock, you simply walk in to see Abby lying in the center of her bed, her long blonde locks draped over her shoulders, and her muscle tank covering her top half while the rest of her body was covered with her duvet from the waist down.

“Hey,” she pants out, propping herself up on her bed to get a better look at you. “I’m so sorry I had to—“

“Sit up,” you tell her, cutting off her sentence.

“What?”

“You heard me. Sit up.”

You then walk your way over to the left side of her bed and kneel on the ground, causing Abby to scramble around and sit up from her bed. Once you’re settled on the ground, she’s got her legs hanging off the bed, and you can see that she doesn’t have anything on underneath.

“Thought you said you had your boxers on,” you told her.

“I-I did…I just couldn’t wait for you to get here…” she replies, looking away from you as she does so.

“And you say I’m the needy one…” you mutter to yourself. You then spread Abby’s legs open, revealing her pussy to you. Despite how truly annoyed you were that she made you have to sneak out in the middle of the night, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to be touching her like this right now…because your mouth was practically watering at the sight of her wet pussy.

Without hesitation, you insert two of your fingers inside her. Her body jerks back for a moment at the sudden touch, before soon settling down, letting her pussy relax around your fingers.

It seemed like Abby was trying to compose herself right now because you could hear how hard she was trying to hold back her whimpers and whines as you kept slowly pumping your fingers in and out of her.

“M-More…” she whispers out to you, trying her best to not sound needy.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” You asked, eyes still fixated on her pussy.

“I-I need more, please…” she responds, her voice just a little louder this time.

You look up at her as your fingers continue to move inside her pussy, your movements not stopping as you maintained eye contact with her. “I’m gonna need you to be more specific than that, Abigail, or else I’m not giving you what you want,” you tell her sternly.

You can easily see her trying to hold back her frustration right now, and you were honestly enjoying it. The fact that you’ve put her in this state of submission outside of her usual cocky persona truly has you beaming with pride.

“I—fuck—I need your mouth, p-please…” she whines out to you, hands gripping onto the sheets as your fingers curl into her g spot.

“See, there you go…That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” you tease back at her before leaning in and attaching your mouth to her clit as you continued to finger her.

It didn’t take long for the speed of your fingers to increase inside her pussy and for your mouth to suck harder on her throbbing clit. Between the pleasure you were giving her and the whimpers and moans that were escaping from her mouth, you can’t help but feel the need to take care of yourself down there.

As you continue to eat Abby out, your non-dominant hand begins to trail its way down into your shorts and slide below your underwear. You instantly feel a sense of relief once your fingertips reach your clit, rubbing it gently as you continued to give Abby the pleasure she needed.

You began to whimper and moan into her pussy, the vibrations from your mouth causing chills to rush through Abby’s body as she tried to chase her orgasm.

Her pussy soon began to clench around your fingers more than usual, indicating that she was close. You briefly removed your mouth from her pussy to speak to her, quickly replacing it with your thumb in the meantime. “You’re getting close, aren’t you?” you asked, looking up at her.

Abby nodded quickly in response. “Y-yes, fuck, p-please don’t stop…” she whined out, quickly grabbing your head with one hand and pushing it back into her pussy while her other hand grips onto the edge of her bed.

You were practically being suffocated in between her strong thighs right now, but you could honestly care less. You weren’t stopping until she finished. You continued to desperately moan and whine into her pussy as you kept rubbing your needy clit with your other hand, trying to chase your orgasm as well.

“Oh fuck, baby, right there, I’m gonna—Fuck!”

Abby tried her best to warn you, she really did, but before you both knew it, her release was already spilling out of her pussy and onto your fingers and mouth, causing you to greedily drink up every last drop of her before slowly removing your mouth and fingers out of her.

Once Abby had recovered from her orgasm, she looked down at you just in time to see you take your other hand out of your shorts. She kept her eyes on your fingers, admiring how they were covered in your release as a result of the pleasure you just gave to her.

She brings her hand down to your chin and lifts it to meet her eyes with yours. The deja vu feeling was hitting her now the second she saw your pupils blown out once again, just like how you were not even a week ago when you went down on her under her desk while she was sitting across from her father.

You hesitate for a moment before soon making the effort to stand up to her height, bringing your two fingers that were coated in your slick up to her lips.

“Clean them up,” you commanded.

Abby nodded as she held the hand that was put to her mouth before parting her lips and sucking your fingers clean. Her eyes were trained on yours, maintaining eye contact as she did so.

“There you go, just like that…” you mutter out to her quietly.

Once they were clean, Abby removed your fingers from her mouth, making a slight pop sound as she did so. You lean in to plant a kiss on her lips, tasting a bit of yourself from her lips and vice versa. You then reach down to grab your phone and keys before walking towards her bedroom door to leave.

However, you pause in your tracks for one moment and turn your head around to look at her fucked out self one more time.

“I’ll see you at the bake sale.” you reminded her, that same smirk appearing now on both of your faces before you turned back around and exited her bedroom, now leaving her by herself.

Well, it’s safe to say that Abby was going to have to return the favor for you real soon.

- a/n: i have to admit this one’s not my best work, it was my first time writing sub abby y’all believe me i tried my best 🙏🏻

also, i don’t usually self promote my fics but i did post my first dina fic the other day, it’s called overnight sensation and it’s a smau series. i’ve spent a lot of time and effort in making that fic so far so it’ll truly mean a lot to me if you guys could check it out 🤍

but other than that, i’ll see you guys in part 3!

tags 🏷️: @abbyscherry @whore4abby @zombholic @aouiaa @uraesthete @lia-winther @gaptoothedlesbo @deadbolted @abbysfavewh0rx @echostinn @mochiivqi @floptron @totallyghostdgirl @swtsuna @bellaramslover @naomis-daydream @ur-fav-pixi @sirenbxby @paprikahoernchen @thesevi0lentdelights @mostlyhornyandsad @tohoko

(^ i think that’s everyone?? let me know if i missed anyone/if you’d like to be tagged in the real part 3 LOL)

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carolperkinsexgirlfriend · 5 months

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Steddie Upside-down AU Part 25

Part 1 Part 24

“You mean blood draws this thing?” Hopper asks. He’s finally seated at the table, no longer looming over Eddie where he sits, like he’s just picked him up for possession and taken him in for questioning. Again.

“We don’t know,” Barbara says. Nancy chimes in, “it’s just a theory.” All three of them ignore Eddie’s shouted “Yes!” As if he isn’t the only one that’s seen the thing more than once.

Hopper steeples his fingers in front of his nose, looking like he’d rather be almost anywhere else. Eddie can’t blame him. He also wants Hopper to be anywhere else.

“We’ve got a plan,” Nancy says. “To test the theory.”

Hopper sighs, closing his eyes and pinching his brows, the same way he does when he catches Eddie selling pot outside of the high school. Or at the trailer park. Or at parties. “Let’s hear it then.” He doesn’t open his eyes. Nancy starts speaking anyway.

Eddie, having been mostly absent last time, tunes in for the conversation. She wants to jerry rig the house with bear traps. Like they’re in the Looney Tunes and she’s trying to catch the road runner. Hopper doesn’t seem all that impressed. Neither does Wayne.

“No,” Wayne says.

Hopper still hasn’t opened his eyes. Maybe he was so shocked by the slap dash plan that he gave up and went to sleep.

“Excuse me?” Nancy says.

Eddie bristles at her tone, but Wayne doesn’t even twitch. “You’re kids,” he says, like that’s all there is to say.

“But, Steve –”

Joyce jumps up from where she was still huddled with her sons to tower over the table in all her five foot nothing furry to shout, “this is not yours to fix!” It works to shut them all up. “It’s not you kid’s responsibility to save another kid.”

“But, Mom,” Will says.

Eddie wants to echo the sentiment. Wants to beg. Steve saved their lives, and they’d left him. She wants them to just leave him there? Again? “I know, baby. We’ll get him.”

“Anyone called the boy’s parents?” Wayne asks, but it comes out barely as a question. He already knows the answer, even before Hopper scoffs. Everyone at this table does.

“Like anyone even knows what country they’re in,” he replies while Joyce bristles, like the thought of anyone’s child being left like that leaves her seething.

“Enough of that,” she says, waving her ends in a cutting motion in front of her. “How are we going to get that boy back?”

Will stands up and storms out of the room. Eddie’s never seen the kid be anything but polite. Eddie stands to follow the tug at his sternum telling him to keep the kid in his line of sight.

“Will?” Joyce calls, trying to follow as well until Jonathan tugs her back by her arm with a quiet murmur he can’t make out.

The house isn’t large. He can hear the silence reverberating as he follows Will. The best plan they have so far is Nancy’s game of mouse trap. If it means saving Steve, Eddie’s ready to form an alliance with the devil he knows. If it means saving Steve, he’d be willing to do worse.

“I could go back to the lab,” Hopper says, voice barely carrying down the hallway.

Will’s sitting on a bed when Eddie finds him. It’s small with a blue comforter on it, covered in little cartoon planes. There’s a poster of Jaws on the wall, D & D minis on a bookcase. This might be the coolest kid alive.

Eddie takes a seat beside him, the mattress squeaking as he huddles into it.

Will’s hand is dangling between his knees, cradling a walkie talkie. He doesn’t look over at Eddie, just keeps staring at it like it’ll crackle to life at any second.

“Whatcha got there?” Eddie asks quietly as voices raise in the other room. Eddie wonders if this is what it would’ve felt if he’d had a baby brother back when voices were always raised in his house. He wants to scoop this kid up and bolt out the window.

Will barely seems to notice the noise. He’s still just staring down. When he finally drags his eyes up, it seems like it takes effort. “I want to call Mike.”

“Okay,” Eddie says. “Who is Mike?”

Will’s eyes shift back down. “He’s my Steve.”

Well, Eddie has no idea what that means, but he can glean some things: Mike is important, and Will wants to talk to him. “So, call him.”

Will’s shoulders curl in. He cradles the walkie talkie to his chest like it’s a baby. “He thinks I’m dead.” It comes out of his mouth bitter.

Eddie reaches out, clasps his shoulder gently. “Then, I bet he’d love to hear that you’re not.”

Slow as molasses, Will raises the walkie talkie up to his mouth, holds down a button and speaks. “Mike?” he asks. “Do you copy?”

He decompresses the button. The silence trickles back in as they both now stare at the walkie talkie, waiting for something to happen. “Maybe he didn’t hear yo–” Eddie starts to say, conjuling, when a frantic, prepubescent voice crackles through the little speaker.

“Will?!” A voice asks, overlapped by another saying , “–didn’t say over, Mike!” before the fuzzy sound stops abruptly.

Will waits a second before pushing the button again, and speaking, “I’m here, over.”

“Where are you?” presumably Mike asks. “We’ll come get you!”

Will smiles, eyes brimming. “It’s okay,” he says, voice lighter than Eddie’s ever heard it. “I’m home.”

The silence lasts longer now, until a new voice filters through. “Yeah, yeah, I’m glad you’re back, Will,” attitude dripping even over the static of the line. “Now, the bad men have got us pinned down, you gotta help us.” it says, before tacking on a quick, “over.”

“Bad men?” Eddie asks, looking over at Will, hoping this is some ill-timed inner-circle game.

But Will looks confused. Panicked. “I think we should go get Chief Hopper.” Will says.

Great. Another fucking problem. Eddie regrets ever being dragged back through that goddamn hole in the tree.

Part 26

#steddie upsidedown au #steddie fic #steddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #my fic #first part where i was like wow that sucked to write and i hate it but im moving along so i don't get bogged down! lol

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kneelingshadowsalome · 1 year

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A Brute, An Angel... (König x F!OC)

Summary: König gets an order to make a female SpecGru sniper talk, but König doesn't want to hurt women.

Category: Smut 🔞, angst, fluff

Tags & warnings: Explicit mature content +18 audiences only, strangers to lovers (slight enemies to lovers), dubious consent, threats of rape, virgin!König, size kink, size difference, p in v, multiple orgasms, cunnilingus, squirting, hugs and cuddles, super fluffy ending. König will be named in later chapters.

A/N: KorTac and SpecGru are rivaling military contractors, Conor is König's superior (and a huge villain), and I just wanted to write angsty smut featuring our favourite Austrian boi.

Part 1/3 of Valkyrie

Read on Ao3

A Brute, An Angel...

"You're always yappin' about how ya can make prisoners talk. Now here's ya chance."

König tried his best to stand tall while Conor spat at him with a gruff accent he couldn't quite place. He could tell the man got off on this: getting a chance to order him around and making him uncomfortable. He concentrated on looking down at him — knowing perfectly well that it only pissed Conor off when he did that. As if König could will himself to be shorter.

"But she's a… She's a girl. Sir."

"She is an enemy, and we need that intel."

I highly doubt that, sir.

"What do you want me to do with her?"

"Make the captive talk. Ya don't have to do the usual. If y'know what I mean."

"Are you suggesting that I rape her, Conor?"

The fact that he used the Lieutenant's name to appeal to him on a more personal level should've spoken volumes. But it had little effect on the man everybody in the KorTac was more or less scared of.

"I'm not suggesting anything. I'm giving you an order."

If Calisto or Stiletto were here, Conor would be on the ground by now, begging for mercy. König found himself thinking what stopped him from gutting the man right then and there.

"Does the team leader know about this?"

“Never ya mind about that."

"Permission to speak, sir," Zero pushed in.

"Go on."

"This goes against the protocol-"

"Did ya give two shits about the bloody protocol when we were in Adal?"

The abrupt outburst almost made König flinch. Almost.

Zero didn't turn the slightly disgusted gaze away, but snapped his mouth shut.

"I - I can't do it," König muttered.

"You sayin' you refuse to obey an order?"

König straightened upon hearing the word 'order' but otherwise remained in confused silence.

"I suggest you carry on unless ya wanna get demoted to a fuckin' desk job. It's your call."

And with that, Conor turned and marched off. Zero followed suit, sparing a pitiful glance at König as he went.

He was left alone in the bunker hallway, illuminated by a lamp that produced an unnerving buzz.

Conor was only doing this because he liked to bully him. Somehow, somewhere, Lt had lost his humanity, but it wasn't supposed to be his problem. Not until Conor made it his problem.

Something in him made the Lieutenant tick. König didn't know whether it was because he was a relatively fresh recruit or whether it was the fact that he was a foreigner. Hell, maybe it was the mask, how could he know?

"Fuckin' jerry."

And he wasn't even; he was Austrian, but Conor didn't care, which meant that it was something else about him that got under his skin. The man had vehemently decided to hate him, and he could do nothing about it.

König turned to the door leading to the interrogation room, grabbed the doorknob, inhaled deeply, and went in.

The girl was tied to the ceiling with a grey paracord that bit into her wrists as she hung there, barely able to stand. The bastard had bound her unreasonably tight. An ugly sight, that.

But she wasn't.

The thick braid was messy, her arms were more or less bruised, and her face had dirt on it, but she was, by far, one of the loveliest beings he had ever seen. She looked like heaven and hell, an angel of war who had fought for days against overwhelming forces and only wanted to sleep.

He swallowed, glad of the hood making the blob of his Adam’s apple invisible. She stirred and looked up, eyes dark with the burned out wrath of a cornered wild thing. She looked dog-tired, and scared. Beaten. And no one had even struck her yet. Not that he knew of, at least.

She pulled herself to her feet by the rope, although it was long enough to allow her to stand, and raised her chin.

"So you're the one they sent to break me."

-----

It was him.

The man that had gotten her in this situation in the first place.

She had been stupid enough to freeze for a few moments, the crucial little moments that meant the difference between life and death, escape and capture. And for what? To watch how this beast raged on the battlefield like it was his playground, to watch how he plowed through her mates while bullets showered around him. Seemed to evade him even though he was the largest possible target in the whole damn skirmish.

It didn't really help that his gear was gone. He was still one of the biggest men she had ever seen. If not the biggest.

The black hood was still in place, though, making him look like an inquisitor. Or an executioner.

She suspected he was here to make her talk. He could probably make anyone talk... But there was a particular threat present here. She was a woman in a helpless state, and she had a hunch that this mountain of a man wouldn't shy away from any methods that would humiliate and destroy her. He probably enjoyed it: getting a little treat after a nice day in the field.

The man strode to her, and it seemed that the only thing that moved as he walked was his hips. But the sound of his weight, the sheer mass that met the floor through combat boots, made her draw back in a futile attempt to disappear somewhere between her raised arms.

He stopped a generous few feet away, crossed his arms over his chest, then unraveled them again to his sides. He was all corded muscle beneath that black shirt, the fabric barely concealing the curves of a well-built chest. The poor textile stretched from the swell of his shoulders.

She didn't say anything. She expected a punch in the face, a knee to the stomach. Something to get things started.

He walked behind her, much more slowly, the thumps against the cold, hard cement causing the hair on her neck to stand on end. He stepped close, so close that she could feel his body heat against her back.

"Listen to me." She flinched at his voice, far more high-pitched than she would've suspected from such a beast of a man.

"I'm going to help you. But you have to assist me here."

The 'here' sounded more like german for 'hier'. Through her terror sweat and confusion, she found herself wondering how odd it was that the KorTac had some German guy working for them.

"We have to…" he cleared his throat from the falsetto his voice was climbing to.

And she only now realized that he was nervous.

The soldier was fucking nervous.

"We have to have intercourse," he continued, his accent bleeding thick through her senses like some goddamn ASMR she used to calm herself with. A guilty pleasure she succumbed to when she tried to reach sleep after a mission.

Only after she got past the fact that the enemy soldier's voice made her feel tingly, she understood what he had said exactly. What he was proposing.

She knew that nerves and adrenaline were a fucked up thing. You could get turned on during the most absurd situations when the survival instinct kicked in. Those situations could include getting a target on sight and pulling the trigger, or getting hit and receiving care under fire.

Turned out that it could include the prospect of getting tortured by a 6 feet something enemy merc who whispered in her ear with a thick German accent, gently like a lover.

Perhaps this whole set-up was just another kind of torture. A good cop, bad cop routine, in which he was both of the cops. He tried to tear her walls down and make her trust him, and when she refused to tell him anything, he would get to work. Tear her nails off, dislocate joints, rape her bloody.

"I'm not going to speak."

She announced it with a far less stern voice than she would’ve preferred, and heard him swallow. Either he was damn good at acting, or he was the most socially anxious soldier she had ever seen.

He rounded her and stopped only an inch or two from her face. Which only reached the man’s chest, broad and lean, covered in that black shirt and smelling of battlefield along with his sweat - the combination hitting her nostrils as an undiluted, masculine scent. He reached a gloved hand to prop her chin up, to force her to look at him.

It was her turn to swallow, and the angle he forced her neck caused the sound of her gulp to echo in the bunker. The tactical glove had cut-proof padding on the knuckles, and it scratched the delicate facial skin, even though his touch was more of a coax than a yank. But that wasn’t what caught her attention so vividly that it nearly made her knees buckle.

It was his ice-blue stare. The eyes stood out from the holes of his mask, from among the heavily applied black facial paint like two beacons. And they were gentle. Bordering on puppy eyes. The thought alone nearly made her laugh hysterically.

Even with her faltering knowledge of human character, she could’ve bet all in that this man would not hurt her. That he was far from a torturer.

And the knowledge made her even more confused. If he wasn’t the torturer, then who was he? What the hell did he want?

“You have to co-operate.” His voice was strained with something akin to despair.

“I can only help you escape if you co-operate,” he whispered, his voice so low it went straight between her legs.

Jesus, this was not okay.

He released her chin, but she didn’t turn her gaze away. Her eyes roamed his face, or rather, the black hood that covered it. She wondered why he wore it when other soldiers didn’t bother to hide their identities. The only other man she had seen wearing a mask was Lt, with the top of a human skull attached to his balaclava. And even he wasn’t this big. Albeit menacing and shrouded in mystery that came from all things danger, death, and pain, the man before her now intrigued her far more than even Ghost did.

Why did he hide his face? Why was he so… jittery?

And why did he try to escape her gaze?

He looked like the whole situation was too much for him. To say that the man was distraught when she merely looked him straight in the eyes when he told her that they needed to fuck, would be an understatement.

If she were to choose a man to torture someone with his dick, this would be her last choice.

“What’s the escape plan, then?” She asked, still not believing for a second that he would help her, even if he didn’t strike her as intimidating anymore.

"I, uh…"

"You don't have a plan?"

"Well, not yet."

"Why am I not surprised," she murmured into the stale, dusty air of the chamber. "Why would you even want to help me?"

"I don't hurt women," he said and took a step back as if to confirm that statement.

This was so fucking ridiculous. He was a mercenary in a filthy bunker with a bound prisoner, assuring that he was a gentleman. Was she on candid camera or something?

She had never been in a situation like this. She had never imagined being in a situation even remotely close to this. She would have laughed over the absurdity of the whole thing but couldn't, because her lower lip started to tremble.

He noticed it and instantly shifted weight from one leg to the other. He tried to direct his anxiety into the leisurely movement, and it caused his hips to sway from one side to the other, making her think of all kinds of stupid associations, such as lapdance and snake hips.

With those rather tight khaki pants, it was impossible to prevent her eyes from darting to the bulging thighs and the evident package he was delivering between them.

Jesus fucking Christ, pull your shit together…

"I'm going to get you out of here," he promised.

"That's cute of you," she tiredly threw in, getting far too much satisfaction out of the reaction her words managed to pull out of him. He blinked a few times, and the colossal chest heaved as if the man was trying to catch his breath. "Funny that you need to fuck me to be able to do so."

Another switch from side to side, a sway of those goddamn khaki-covered hips.

"I'm almost positive that the only surveillance they have on this room is that camera over there. The screen is in another room," he told her, sounding stupidly proud of his debatable skills in spying. She pursed her lips and raised an eyebrow. "But the guys there are usually watching tv," he hurried to add.

"I doubt they will today if your orders are to rape me." Again, he looked abashed, eyes darting to the floor and back to her. Was this guy thick in the head or something? "Probably got their beers popped and their pants down by now…" she said, and the man let out something close to a squeal.

"That is exactly why we have to… provide them with something until I come up with a plan."

She looked at him and almost smiled. Like one would smile at a daft dog that was far too eager to please.

"You just said you don't hurt women," she said.

"That is why I very much wish you would co-operate," he answered.

"You are the weirdest torturer ever."

"I - I am not a torturer. I'm just a soldier," he tried to assure her with that climbing voice. He was shitty at concealing his uneasiness. The man was completely flustered.

"Then why did they assign you with this… task," she demanded to know. It was yet again laughable: as if he was the one being grilled here. He wouldn't answer, and she cocked her head to the side.

"Ever interrogated with your dick before?" She blurted.

His hands were trembling. Slightly, but they were.

"Negative," he said, voice tight.

Was this guy….

Was he a virgin?

The twisted concept of some romantic chivalry, the nervousness, the respectful distance he kept, and the fact that his hands started shaking when she said a dirty word, all pointed to the possibility that he very much might be.

She thought he was picked because he was big, because his obvious blessings in the crotch department also held a promise of pain. But this guy certainly didn't know what the heck he was doing. And not only because he wasn't a torturer or because he didn't want to hurt a lady. She could almost swear, hand on Bible, that this man had never been with a woman. Not much further than the first base, anyway.

"Well, get on with it then."

She told herself it was only because it was useless to postpone the suffering that would eventually come anyway.

She told herself it was not because she was trying to break a Guinness world record of developing Stockholm Syndrome to this guy and his adorableness. She told herself it was definitely not because she kinda sorta wanted to see how he would act when he had to actually pull that cock out and touch her with it.

He stared at her, eyes wide beneath that oversized hood, and she could swear it was his heart, not hers, that made that thumping sound.

"I am going to touch you," he informed her. Like the dumbest moron.

If she ever got out of here, and if she ever, ever told this story to someone, they wouldn't be able to believe it.

He took his gloves off - why would he even bother to do that? - and let them drop to the ground.

His fingers were long, the fingernails meticulously cut. There were a few scrapes and scratches here and there on his palm, indicating his lack of coordination. Clumsy boy.

When he reached for her, she assumed he would go for her tits, or her waist, or grope her ass. But he didn't. Fingers cupped her face, trembling still, before they slid over her neck and grabbed her throat, not to choke, but to revel. Like she was a sculpture or something, and he wanted to know how the material felt. How soft she was.

She looked into his eyes, because eyes told everything; they would betray a flash of sadism or whatever else she still expected from this strange man. They roamed all over her, darted across her face, every now and then to her eyes, but mostly avoided her stare like the plague. He wouldn’t hold a gaze for much longer than a glimpse of a second. And there was still no sign of lust for inflicting pain. Only perplexed wonderment.

Her hands and arms were numb because of the position she was in, hands tied above her head, blood flow inhibited. But she paid it no mind as his hand traveled down her neck, caressed her collarbones, and then stopped right before he reached the gap between her breasts, free game in the white tank top she had been left with, along with her cargo pants and boots.

“Can I… May I kiss you?” He asked, his voice muffled and so thick that it was difficult to untangle what he had said.

It was such an odd request that her words left her, and she could only produce a whimpering sound at the back of her throat. He took it as a yes, and raised his hood, only enough to reveal a pair of thin lips among a light brown stubble. His mouth opened slightly, then closed, then opened again, as if he didn’t know how to proceed.

He bent down like the giant he was, not hinging at the hips but hunching over towards her, probably trying to appear smaller but ending up looking like there was a tower falling on her. The smell of gasoline and sweat hit her as his lips met hers, parted, and a shy flick of tongue swept across her bottom lip. She tried to remember how to breathe and ignore the rush of wetness that told her she would have no problem whatsoever with him parting her nether lips too. He captured her lip, sucked, then opened his mouth wider and hers with it.

She answered his kiss - just a little bit, and he instantly deepened it and moaned into her mouth. She fluttered her eyes open and saw that his were squeezed shut. He pressed a hand against her back and pulled her against his overwhelming body. All she could feel was muscle… and then some more. He was hard, the thick erection colliding with her stomach all but seductively. She went completely stiff, eyes wide and lips tight.

The man went even more rigid, if possible. He released her mouth with a grunt and buried his head in her neck.

"I can't -... I can't do this, I'm gonna go and tell him they need to find somebody else," he said in a strained voice, riddled with pain.

No. No.

The fuck he would.

If he would be replaced by somebody else, some crazy, blood-drunk soldier with cold eyes and a knife, some jerk-off who hadn't had a go with a woman since their last leave, she would fucking die.

"Please don't," she hushed and swallowed against him, the place where his hood and the collar of his shirt revealed skin.

"I want it to be you," she continued to whisper in his ear, meaning to say If it has to be somebody, let it be you, but choosing to deliver a sentence as persuasive as possible. As inviting as possible.

So that he wouldn't leave her in the hands of someone with no mercy.

"Scheiße…" The hot air brushed against her skin, even through that hood.

"If only I could touch you too," she said, regretting it immediately. She was acting a little too enthusiastic in the midst of her panic. Trying desperately to prevent him from leaving.

But the hand on her back moved down a bit, and long fingers splayed over the small of her back, pressing gently.

"Don't tease me," he huffed, panting although they were both quite still.

Jesus Christ… at this rate, the KorTac could hire her to do the interrogations.

She wondered whether the surveillance team was looking at the scene, which was far too intimate and loving to be an interrogation. What kind of a man would try to pry information out of someone by embracing them gently? Kissing them hesitantly?

In a way, this was torture: she didn't know what would happen to her after… whatever this was. She didn't know what procedures would follow when the others found out he had no intel for them to tell.

Let's get this fucking over with.

"What's your name?" She asked, hoping that the puppy boy wasn't naive enough to tell her his actual name.

"They call me König."

King in german...

"König…-"

She meant to ask him to touch her so that this horrible, awkward mess would come to at least some sort of an end, but couldn't find the words. His name on her tongue seemed to do the trick, though. He ground his hips against her, and had she not been tied to the ceiling, the movement would have toppled her. The hand on her back went behind her knee and raised it to his hip. Then another hand slid down to do the same to her other knee, pulling her from the ground like she weighed nothing at all.

The strain on her arms was released, and the relief was heavenly. For that alone, she could've let him do whatever he wanted to her.

"You're so klein… small," he commented with her raised to straddle his lap and her face finally on the same level as his. "Small people make good snipers," he declared with a hint of longing in his voice.

She had a terrible urge to sling the bundle of hands over his head. And not for self-defense reasons.

"I'm not that small, you're just big," she said, like a beauty to the beast, like it was a cute scene in a movie where everybody was nice to each other. Her gut feeling of the man being a virgin only increased by the minute. He was so… blameless. It was downright unintelligible that he was a soldier.

But she had seen how brutal he was on the field, how he had struck holes in her teammate with a combat knife like he was playing tag and didn't quite know the rules. Didn't know that one stab in a well-picked spot would have sufficed.

She had seen him haul a grown man with 100 extra pounds of tactical gear on him up like the poor man was a barbell, and bring them down over his knee. The sound of a breaking spine would probably haunt her dreams for the rest of her life. She had simply gawked at the display of utter, brutal violence before her. Normal men, even soldiers of a special forces tactical unit, simply didn't do stuff like that. Hands-on, down in the mud, barbarian kind of stuff from medieval times.

And now the same man was fondling her like she was his sweetheart. Like he was about to carry her in the bedroom full of roses and other syrupy valentines shit.

"And what do they call you?"

The accent was really doing things to her, along with the few german words tossed here and there, absentmindedly like candy. He was an enigma with his colossal body, croaking voice, and gentleness that surpassed even the violence.

"Valkyrie."

"You've got to be kidding me," he said, astonished.

"My team found out I used to do fencing, and I'm blonde, so…"

It was silly and the swords weren't even that big. One could hardly call them swords at all, the pointy little things they were.

But the situation indeed had taken a turn into a sick fairytale. Like, come on. Valkyrie and König? Some stupid hippie would've loved that: how it was meant to be, destined, even, that the two of them had met. That she was a damsel in distress, and he was here to save her from the ring of fire.

She stifled the urge to shake her head, to snap out of where this was spiraling into.

Affection.

They barely even knew each other's codenames. She was in a modern version of a dungeon, lit by a single light bulb, about to get raped by some edgy, mentally unstable goliath, she reminded herself. While perhaps psychologically interesting, he was not okay. This was not okay. She had been trained for situations like this.

Except that she wasn't. She was trained to withstand torture, battering, spending days in a cell where the lights never went out. She knew methods to draw the mind away from constant pain. But she hadn't received instructions on what to do in a situation where she wasn't even being questioned. Not even on the sly. Her call sign wasn't much of a secret. They probably knew who she was before they brought her to this room.

"There are many stories of valkyries in my Heimat," he prattled on enthusiastically.

"Yeah, I know the Nibelung saga," she said.

"Very heroic, very German tale."

"You ought to know."

"No no, I'm not German, I'm Austrian," he said.

This was turning into an odd conversation.

"König." She said in an attempt to bring his attention to the present moment. He fluttered his eyes, long lashes batting over that innocent-looking stare.

"Don't. Just… don't," she tried not to stutter.

He had lied to her about not being a torturer. Chatting with her like they were on their first date, discovering that they were actually intrigued about one another... It was insufferable. Although she was the one who had started it by asking his name…

"Right. Getting on with it," he said like he had been given an order. Her heart stung. Tears were welling up from the absurdity of this whole situation, from his silliness, from her having felt rather comfortable and safe in his hold. Fucking safe.

She should quit the army when she got out of here. If she got out of here. She wasn't right in the head to continue with this job.

"I've been an idiot," he told her.

You're damn right.

An idiot she could imagine herself falling in love with in another situation, but an idiot nonetheless.

"You should put on more of a fight, and…" he trailed off.

And you should be rough, you dumdum, she thought. Again, in another situation, she would've probably loved him to be rough.

"Roger," she said to him and heard him chuckle, saw how a few wrinkles appeared in the corners of his eyes. He lowered her down to the ground, and she hissed when her arms extended against the rope again. He let her go, gently, like it was his fault that she was attached to the roof.

"I would help you, but -"

"It's ok." She gave him a weighted look that told him to stop speaking. To get on with the action so that she wouldn't get attached even more than she already was.

He grabbed her by the throat again, doing a shitty job at trying to make it look like he was manhandling her. His eyes landed on her chest, and she could almost hear the wheels turning in his head, thinking about whether he should tear her top. Apparently deciding against it, he went for his trousers instead, pulling the belt buckle open with a click.

It had been a while, what with all the stress and the sleep deprivation not being an ideal combo to get her juices flowing. But nothing could prepare her for the surge of wet heat when the front of those light brown pants practically gave way for what must’ve been the largest bulge she had ever seen. It was almost vulgar, even more so when the fabric of his boxer shorts stretched at the sudden throb.

She realized her mouth was hanging slightly open, and she closed it carefully, but her lips parted again when he continued to shove both of those pants down. He didn’t even bother to take them off, and they were left somewhere mid-thigh, with belt buckle dangling in the air.

And God, he was huge.

It wouldn’t even stand up properly, even though there was no doubt that he had a full-on erection. It jerked between them like a threat, or a dare, but mostly it was just a long, thick, veined baulk that couldn’t support itself because it was just so goddamn big. He was uncut, but the foreskin had drawn back from the arousal, and the tip of his slit glistened with precum.

And he was flustered again, misinterpreting her stare as a sign of fear instead of awe.

"I promise I'll be quick," he whispered, and the first thing that her mind chirped back was Please don't. And not because it would probably be painful. But because she desperately wanted him to slide that monster in inch by inch and take his beautiful time with it.

"Uh-huh," she managed to say before the man codenamed King stretched his fingers toward her pants.

With trembling digits, he opened them and started tearing them down before realizing she could not spread her legs without him taking the pants off. And then he realized he couldn't take them off without taking her boots off.

So what happened was that her panties and pants were halfway down, and the Austrian hulk kneeled in front of her with his hooded face in level with her pussy. He turned his head to the side and leaned a bit on her thigh to unlace her boots, but she was pretty sure he did it mainly because he was embarrassed to look straight at her cunt.

She helped him as much as she could, raising her feet one by one for him to take the combat boots off. He tossed them somewhere to the side and tore her pants down, all the way down, and over her feet, leaving her in her tank top and socks.

He rose, his cock brushed her thigh, and she jerked like she had been scraped by some sharp object. It bounced at the contact, bumping against her again, sweeping a wet streak over her skin.

"Sorry," he mumbled like it was somehow worse than what he was about to do next. When he would shove… that thing inside her.

He picked her up again, almost in a hurry. Her heart was ramming against her ribcage and her mouth was dry as her feet left the ground. He was hard against her belly, flesh hot and throbbing and slick with precum that pushed out from the tip and left wet stains on her top.

This time she did raise her hands over his head and let the arms come down to rest on his shoulders. Her intuition told her she would soon need the support.

He moved her around like she was a doll, letting the erection drop between them to position himself against her slit. Her folds parted without effort as he slid against them, once, twice, before halting.

Don't comment about it, don't…

"You're wet," he grunted with delighted surprise.

"Yeah?" She said like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Just fucking do it, she yelled in her mind, lips drawn into a straight line so that even a dumbass like he could see that this was not the moment for hesitation.

And he didn't hesitate.

He searched, adjusted himself, adjusted her, spread his stance, grunted…

And it was pretty clear by now that he didn't know what he was doing. Her nipples brushed against his chest as he searched for the right spot with her in his arms, and she hoped he would've taken his shirt off so she could feel skin instead of cotton.

"There," she helped him with a whisper as he hit the right spot. He returned, probed, and she guided him. "Now up…", and he bent his knees while raising her slightly. The angle was right, and he finally drove in, slowly but surely.

The stretch was phenomenal. It hurt more than a bit after he had passed the entrance, and the delicious feeling turned into a burning sensation.

"Wait.." she begged, and he stopped immediately, panting like a runner.

"Back up a bit."

He did, pulling out almost completely before she bucked her hips to let him know he could push back in. And when he did, she gasped, and he moaned, so tight and so glorious that the sound that erupted from him was laced with pure need.

"Ach, you're tight.. soft…"

She clenched around him at his shameless commentary, and he let out another broken sigh.

Of course it's tight when you're so big..

He wouldn't go fully in, and she doubted whether he ever even could. She had never been this filled. But more was coming.

He withdrew again before thrusting back inside, deeper still.

"Oh Jesus," she gasped, "yes, just like that.." the words escaped her lips and she noticed his eyes were directed at her, drunk and half-lidded.

"Yeah…" he echoed, his voice shivering like a leaf. "Das gut?"

If her hands were free, she would've torn that hood away, buried her fingers in his hair, and pulled until he would expose his fucking throat for her to kiss and lick.

He began thrusting with a steady pace, shallow but intense, going deeper every now and then when he slipped. His hands shifted, one by one, to grab her by her butt to glide her up and down his length. It was fucking hot that he didn't need his hips to fuck her, that he could just move her around with his hands and slam her against it if he wanted to. Her ankles hooked around his waist on reflex, and her fingers flexed in the ties, trying to grasp onto something but finding only air.

"You feel so good," the short, agonized 'good' coming out more like 'gut'; and her pussy tightened, pulled, and sucked him like he was the best thing ever.

"Sch…shit," he breathed laboriously, taking a moment and thrusting even deeper, eyes closing like he was on the brink of losing consciousness..

He hit a spot that was both familiar and unfamiliar, and she was pretty sure that if someone was looking at the surveillance material, they couldn't tell whether the look on her face was of pain or pleasure. She couldn't keep herself in check, couldn't seize control anymore. She was so soaked at this point that the evidence of her arousal was heavy and loud. So audible that it made her cheeks hot.

"I wonder what you taste like," he mused, his hood shaking in sync with his thrusts. "Honey and raindrops, eh?"

"Mh," she sobbed, her thighs quivering. She wanted to spread them more, to let him see her and have a taste, to present herself for him to do as he pleased. But she couldn't move much in his grasp. It was like she had been propped up on a machine, buckled to a seat reserved just for her.

He took a wider stance as if hearing her thoughts on wanting even more of what he had to offer, and she held on to him as he shifted like the continental plates beneath her. He proceeded to fuck her while leaning his head against the side of hers, and she held on to him as he breathed into her neck. The occasional moan sounded more like a sob as his cock slid in and out, in and out, slick with her wetness.

"You're what they sing about in Rheingold," he kept talking that romantic bullshit in her ear while stuffing her with that long Austrian cock that would make most women squirt if he kept at it long enough. "Und Walküre…"

It was so good she wanted to cry. She thought about letting a tear or two slip and saying it was just for the show if he asked. Virgin or not, König was doing a pretty decent job in making her a writhing, weak mess. He was not too quick, not too slow, but set just the right, rigorous pace that would send her into oblivion. He became the fountain stone, the buoy in the storm. He was the man that would send her over the brink and the man to hold her unwaveringly as she fell.

"Not much longer," he informed her light-heartedly, like he was in the middle of a mission about to be completed. Completed to the fucking full.

She couldn't even begin to tell him that she was already there, because everything suddenly coiled and burst, and she was arching her back, making him reach even deeper, almost fully inside her, the heavy balls slapping against her ass as her toes curled and her body went completely rigid…

The sound that broke out was not a yell, nor a scream, it was a violation of her vocal cords. She had never sounded like this — like someone falling and meeting the ground with a strained, lewd groan. Like someone who had the orgasm of their life.

He startled, almost quailed from her. Not because of the screaming, nor the sounds she made after… but because she came, hard, while he was banging her like a battering ram.

"Genau so…" König rasped, taken aback but trying his all to cover it. He slowed down on instinct, letting her greedy pussy suck on him like it was giving him a blowjob, telling him he was a good, good boy… because her words had left her.

He moved a little, and she could see the flash of those eyes from within the darkness of the hood, knew that he was watching her intently as she swam in ecstasy with an open mouth and pinched nose and eyes that wouldn't focus.

"Schön," he continued, sounding fragile. Weak. Vulnerable…

She couldn't for the life of her look at him, look in those eyes that must've told her things she wasn't strong enough to deal with at the very moment.

Her head dropped and her thighs went slack, but König held her, steadfast like the most gallant knight. He resumed his earlier pace with caution and care, breathing distinctly with his mouth open under that black mask. She was limp in his arms, trying to hold on as best she could while listening how the cock drove into her again with moist, sloppy sounds.

The moans that followed didn’t suit a man of his build at all. She had expected brute strength and hoarse grunts, not pinched, needy sobs and a head softly pressed against her. Forehead against fucking forehead. And he probably didn't even know what it was doing to her because he was such a stupid, adorable little — ugh, big dumbass.

She wanted to grasp his shoulders, slide her hands under his mask and raise it, kiss those moans straight from his lips, and run her fingers all over his stubble, the chiseled jawline she had seen only once. She wanted to feel him, all of him, not just his hands and his cock, even though they were good. Or fucking best. It almost made her cry; the post-orgasm need to cuddle for a bit but not being able to do so because her hands were bound to the fucking ceiling of a fucking dull grey bunker.

"Can I… cum..?"

Was he asking her permission to…

"Can I cum inside… Please, I'm close," he panted.

"Yeah… Yes.."

He slowed down the pace as he drew out his own upcoming release, relishing the last thrusts like he was sampling the finest cuisine. She finally dared to look at him and saw that his eyes were open and full of naked, helpless adoration. Devotion, even.

She must have been imagining: they were only the eyes of a man who was about to nut good. But damn if that fevered, helpless stare didn’t succeed in touching her very soul. To her horror, he wasn't shy this time, but held her gaze, held it, held it — until his lashes fluttered and he went over the brink with a cry.

It echoed from the damp concrete walls, just a single, prolonged wail that eventually broke and ended in miserable panting.

She could feel his cock throbbing, shooting the load inside, emptying the whole magazine in her. How the seed welled up, unable to go anywhere before he would decide to pull out.

König laid his head on her shoulder and pulled her against him, and she was not suspended only in rope but in time and space as well. His shoulders moved up and down with the heavy breaths, and she pulled her tied hands to awkwardly brush his neck as he came down from heaven.

He was shaking. Shaking, and let out a whimper against her skin, and for a fleeting moment, she was sure he was crying or on the verge of doing so.

"König?"

He shuddered a sigh, taking a moment to himself.

She felt hollow. Not raped, not assaulted, not abused. Just hollow, knowing what had happened between them would not be a recurring thing. That there was no 'them', not really. Not in the real, actual world.

"You can let go of me now," she whispered, although that was the last thing she wanted him to do.

But he did as she proposed, lowering her down and sliding out of her only after her feet had met solid ground. He pulled out carefully, gently, like he was leaving his beloved. Warm fluid descended down her left thigh in a streak, indicating that it had been a while for him.

Her head was full of dumb thoughts, such as whether he had a girl waiting for him somewhere back home. In Germany perhaps — no, in Austria. And if he had, just how lucky that person was.

She wondered if he had found someone here, and if they were in the military or not.

She wondered if there was no one, if he was alone, and if he curled up in a fetal position every night before he fell asleep in some bed that was too small for him.

And whether he would get into trouble for violating orders.

"You were," he started, eyes directed to the ground, "magnificent."

Was I your first, King?

"You weren't that bad yourself," she complimented him back, and he huffed.

"You liked it?" He asked in a way that made her heart squeeze tightly in her chest.

"Wasn't it obvious?" She couldn't help but smile. Couldn't… Wouldn't.

"Ja," he chuckled while looking down at his boots with an interest that was totally born from shyness. "I'm glad I could please you," he said before tucking himself demurely back into his trousers.

She wondered if he was as aware as she was of the fact that neither of them had played out the part they were supposed to. It had all gone out the window the moment he had touched her again. Practically thrown out, as if they were defying death itself together.

He gathered her boots and helped her step first inside her panties and then the cargo pants. He had to go around her back and reach from behind to zip her up and put her belt on, and it was such a mundane, cute act that she thought that this was indeed the cruelest form of torture she had ever witnessed. He hovered over her after he was done, and stole a brief caress of her waist before crouching to lace up her boots.

He rose, and came back in front of her, and the silence between them stretched to a short eternity. There were so many things she wanted to say, things he probably wanted to say, thoughts buzzing in both of their heads like bees as his seed cooled down on her thigh and made her pants stick to her skin here and there.

She thought about thanking him for being gentle, but what was she really thanking him for? Raping her tenderly? With the attentiveness and passion of a lover?

Was it rape if she had enjoyed it? If she had had one of the most powerful orgasms of her life?

He was… she had no words for him. The way he had unraveled her in mere minutes was shocking. Devastating, to say the least.

"I will find a way," he promised for the thousandth time. "I will not let them hurt you."

She nodded slowly, continued to do so while looking at him, her eyes welling with tears.

“Hey, kleine Süße, don't worry.” He brushed her cheek with his knuckles, soft and sweet. "I will be your Siegfried."

She didn't have the heart to remind him that both Siegfried and the valkyrie died in that story.

Part 2:

#könig fanfiction #könig smut #könig mw2 #könig call of duty #call of duty #könig imagine #mw2 smut #konig fanfiction #könig x oc #könig x female oc #könig

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gay-dorito-dust · 16 days

Note

could I request randomly shouting “floor is lava!” In front of the batboys? I’m in the mood for a crack fic

It was a dreary day within the Wayne manor and everyone was bored out of their minds. Nothing they did was enough to cure the boredom they were subjected to that day.

However a day of hope appeared before them in the form of you bursting through the door, holding a unbothered Alfred the cat in one hand and a confused Jerry the Turkey in the other, screaming: ‘THE FLOOR IS LAVA!’

Dick is pushed to the floor and stepped on by a mysterious assailant but manages to get up and use his acrobatic skills -cheat skills as Jason would like to call them- to project himself upwards to the expensive chandelier and clung on for dear life.

He was 100% safe.

Smug bastard and his cheat codes -Jason Tood, certified older brother hater aka the younger sibling.

Jason pushed dick onto the floor and step onto his back, somehow trips and lands flat on his face against the carpeted flooring. However he quickly recovers by picking himself back up and bolts towards the curtains instead, where he tries to cling onto them for dear life as the sound of fabric slowly ripping could be heard by everyone.

Jason was on a time limit before he was sent plummeting back to the floor and towards his second death. 39% survival rate.

Damian is the first of the bunch to move into action as he -somehow- managed to grab Titus in a feet of hidden strength fueld by adrenaline, throwing the Great Dane over his shoulder, and still found it within himself to then clamber up the book shelves in the library where he stayed to watch the chaos below him like he was god.

The bookshelves are wooden, it was only a matter of time before he and Titus would have to change to a different location. 50% survival rate. Titus is a good puppy.

Tim shuts the computer, sets it aside and follows Jason’s example by lying down on the floor and awaits his fate with a blank expression. ‘My time has come.’

0% survival rate, instant death but Tim don’t give two shits, he’s lived long enough.

Duke: poor lad is freaking out trying to find a good spot and settles with standing on the table with the janky leg as he was forced to continuously fight for his balance atop of it.

He’s lost too many times just to loose again. He hates floor is lava with a vengeance. 50% survival rate if he doesn’t fall off and looses his fight with the table.

Stephane: the mastermind behind the whole ordeal, cackles as she stays lounging on the plush sofa, sipping her drink unbothered by the consequences to come through the door.

50% survival rate, may drop lower if she tries to reach for her phone that she had left on the table where Duke was. She hadn’t thought this whole thing through admittedly.

Bruce Wayne: heard the chaos and went to see what was happening and sighs upon seeing his children, plus you, practically having destroyed the library over a stupid game.

He’s too old for this shit but ends up showing all of you up either way by standing atop of the stone mantle piece of the fireplace, menacingly.

10000% survival rate bc it’s Bruce Wayne.

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anonymousbardd · 2 months

Text

Character Headcanons

꒰ ☕ ꒱ ┊: My Man

↳ Various x FemReader

The following characters are Gun Park, Goo Kim, Samuel Seo, Jake Kim, and Gongseob Ji.

ʚɞ ┊: Gun Park

↳ When he first heard (F/n) call him "my man", because a random girl was drooling all over him, he couldn't help but think about that moment every night before sleep.

'Cause of that, he's been a bit more affectionate which isn't really his thing, this confused his lover a bit but hell she ain't complaining.

Now whenever Gun teases (F/n) he'd say something like, "Come help me out with work, after all, I'm your man, aren't I?"

And now, Gun repeatedly asks what he is to (F/n) whenever they make love in front of the mirror.

ʚɞ ┊: Goo Kim

↳ When Gun had asked what Goo means to (F/n), the blonde man was eavesdropping and was surprised when he heard his lover response.

"Goo...? He's silly and well, goofy, but even so, he's still my man."

He got so excited and came out from his hiding place, catching the young woman off gaurd.

"Cutie piee! I'm your man?! You called me your man!" He kept repeating it over and over again.

(F/n) had been smothered in gifts and kisses the next few weeks after.

ʚɞ ┊: Samuel Seo

↳ It was just a normal kissing session between the two in Samuel's office, it was getting spicy when someone had knocked on the door.

Samuel pulled away and cleared his throat while (F/n) fixed her blouse, Samuel then sighed and let the person who knocked in.

It was a young girl who seemed to be nervous to be there.

"Uh-uhm... Mister Goo Kim wishes to see you..." She said, (F/n) huffed and crossed her arms.

"Tell him that my man is busy and will get to him in a bit," she said in a stern voice.

The young girl nodded and left the room, Samuel turned to (F/n) and chuckled, "Your brother's going to kill me, you know."

(F/n) rolled her eyes and wrapped her arms around his neck, "I'll take care of him, don't worry."

Samuel chuckled and kissed (F/n)'s lips, before Samuel even got the chance for his lips to reach her neck, Goo came barging in with a sword in his hand ready to remove Samuel's existence.

ʚɞ ┊: Jake Kim

↳ It was a lovely day, Jerry and (F/n) were playfully claiming Jake for themselves.

"Sir Jake belongs to me!" Jerry said, "Nuh-uh! He's mine!" (F/n) argued, Jerry and (F/n) had a sibling like relationship.

They continued to argue like that for a while.

"Humph! Sir Jake is my boss!" He said, "Oh yeah? Well he's my man so let him go!"

Once those words left the young woman's mouth, a grin crept on Jake's lips, the other members who were in the same room stiffened as the atmosphere tensed.

Jake turned to (F/n) and leaned down, "What did you say? Could you repeat that please?" He said.

The young woman shook her head and let go of Jake, "I-it's nothing..! Forget about it!" (F/n) turned to Lua in hopes to get away.

Jake held the young woman's wrist and dragged her out the room, "Come now, I want to hear you repeat what you just called me in bed."

ʚɞ ┊: Gongseob Ji

↳ (F/n) would rather be caught dead than to call Gongseob her man, she's still in pretty much denial phase that the young man had taken interest in her.

Though she slowly started to warm up to him, she still wanted to keep their relationship a secret.

The typical good girl x bad boy romance.

(F/n)'s friends had noticed how close Gongseob is, or rather, how close Gongseob tries to be with (F/n).

Eventually, they asked (F/n) what Gongseob is to her.

(F/n) paused and thought for a moment, then, a random girl was talking about how hot Gongseob was.

(F/n) huffed and crossed her arms, in a loud voice, she stated, "He's MY man, Gongseob Ji is MY man!"

It was loud enough for the girl to hear, and for the passing braided man to also hear.

"Oh-ho ho? You're finally admitting it?" He asked as he wrapped his arms around (F/n)'s waist.

"Humph! Shut it," she replied, still, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pecked him on the lips.

She then shot daggers on the girl who was overly complimenting her lover and stuck out her tongue.

༝༚༝༚𝚊𝚗𝚘𝚗𝚢𝚖𝚘𝚞𝚜𝚋𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚍

#lookism #lookismoneshot #x reader #oneshot #fanfic #gongseob ji #lookisim fanfic #samuel seo #jake kim one shot #gun park oneshot #goo kim #lookism headcanons

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darkbluekies · 9 months

Note

Don't know if anyone asked but what would the yandere's reaction be to the reader patching them up after they get injured?

Warnings: mentions of cuts, blood, killing, yandere, feeling depressed? (I'm not sure what to call it)

Silas:

He is strongly against you seeing him in this kind of condition. He’s supposed to be your protector, supposed to take care of you … not the other way around. But you manage to push him down on the toilet and start to clean his wounds while he hisses and curses, although afterwards, he’ll shower you in kisses and tell you how grateful he is.

“You’re not supposed to — fuck — do this. I can take care of myself, you know. Give me that — oh motherfucker — that disinfectant and I’ll do it myself. Yes, I am happy that you’re worried about me, but this isn’t my proudest moment, baby. Let me spare some damn dignity.”

Dr Kry:

He has cut his palm deeply on one of his sharp tools while cleaning up after a surgery. He returns to your room where he keeps all of his stuff. His hands are shaking too much to be able to clean it. You decide to help him before he bleeds out. Dr Kry guides you through the process to make sure you do everything as you should.

“Take that and pat it on my hand. Be careful though, that disinfectant is pretty strong. Ouch — I’m fine, don’t worry. Then you have to take the bandage and wrap it around my hand nad wrist. Don’t wrap it until my hand turns blue, but make sure that its tight. Good job, Y/N. I think I’m good now. But now you need to get back to bed, you know that you shouldn’t be out too much … as a thank you, I can get you dessert after dinner, alright?”

King Edmund:

Cut in the shoulder by a sword. An enemy had caught him in a vulnerable moment. You sit him down on the side of the bed and remove his shirt before starting to clean the wound. Edmund groans and throws his head back to avoid seeing the mess. Although complaining a lot, he doesn’t want anyone else treating him. No one but you are worthy enough to touch his body.

“Hurry up, please! For the love of all mighty, aren’t you done soon? I’m going to die! Yes, I am, you wouldn’t know. I’m going to mangle that scum who had the nerve to dislocate my shoulder. Y/N, you are going to take care of me until I’m well again, won’t you? You have to. I’m your king … your husband. You need to take care of me.”

Jerry:

Another one who’s extremely against you seeing her in this condition. She tries to push you away when you try to help her, but she’s too weak. In the end, you manage to corner her in the bathroom and treat her bloody wounds. For once, her hard demeanor seem to fall. She’s quiet, limp. You ask what’s on her mind, fearing for why she’s not being her normal dramatic, sarcastic self.

“I honestly thought that I was going to die … I have never been so … scared before. I’m pathetic, aren’t I? Yes, I am. Don’t try to tell me otherwise. I know it already. You should have left me alone, Y/N. You shouldn’t patch me up. You should have left me to die. I love you. I know I don’t say that a lot, I just wanted you to … know. Sorry for being a pathetic pussy … I just … nevermind.”

Hedwig:

She’s crying while you clean the wound on her cheek. She had been shaving off some baby hairs — a trick she’d seen online — but had been too uncertain, resulting in her cutting herself. You clean it softly and place a bandaid over it.

“I look so ugly, don’t I? I can’t go to school like this! People will laugh at me. Everyone will know that i tried to shave and that I couldn’t do it. Please stay with me, Y/N, stay with me forever. You’re the only one who doesn’t care what I look like. It doesn’t look … that bad … right? I never want to be without you, i dont think i could do it.”

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere drabbles #yandere oc x you #yandere mafia #yandere oc x reader #yandere male #yandere female #yandere doctor #yandere king #yandere reactions #yandere headcanon #yandere x darling #yandere x y/n #tw yandere

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citruslullabies · 2 months

Note

It took me a whole hour to get the confidence to request this but.

I picture catnap with a hamster reader. The reader would be scared and timid around catnap BC he's a cat and she's basically a hamster. It took her a while to get used to catnap but they became besties to each other. Catnap loves the hamster reader bc of the soft fur and soft chubby cheeks. And every time the hamster reader is taking a nap he would cuddle with him. Yeh.. that's it. Sorry if it's long:<

Don't feel scared to send in requests hon!!

Trigger warnings: none

Romantic/platonic: unspecified

Requested by: legostars

Category: fluff

Ship (romantic or platonic): catnap x hamster smiling critter!reader

Word count: 411

Cat and Mouse

When you were created, you were intended to basically be the Jerry to Catnap's Tom on screen. Silly, right? Well that fear that Jerry must've felt followed you off screen too.

You constantly avoided Catnap, getting scared when he approached and squeaked before running. You may have not been a mouse but you were a hamster, and cats were notorious for killing hamsters. You were skittering away on your little paws after the feline had approached you again, not daring to look back despite the purple cat actually seeming really confused and holding the charm that was supposed to be around your neck. It had fallen off on scene, so he wanted to give it back.

He had Dogday give it back, unhappy by how much calmer you were around him. Dogs were no better after all. It was like this for MONTHS.

Well at least until you finally gave him a chance, due to pressure from the hyper canine. And you two… actually hit it off really well, you had similar interests and just enjoyed each other's company. But you quickly realized that catnap seemed to have a fascination with how soft you were, constantly nuzzling against your face and kneading your fur. You were victim to his paws again as he laid beside you, kneading your fuzzy stomach and nuzzling his fat head against your chubby cheeks.

You giggled and tried to use your tinier paws to swat him away, letting out little squeaks and chirp-like noises. You eventually gave in and gently stroked the cat's fur, humming. “You're making me tired…” You whined, causing the feline pressed against you to purr louder. He never had to use red smoke on you.

Catnap was always quiet, more than most other critters. But he communicated to you with affection and sounds rather than words a lot, so when you fell asleep he crawled up on top of you and curled up. Enjoying the sound of your heartbeat and the pulsing of your chest reminding him that you were still alive, his left ear twitched as he got cozy and popped one eye open to glance at you. Purring as he spoke, knowing you were asleep and could not hear him as he did. “Sleep well, Hammy…” He always called you Hammy, short for Hamster. It was his personal name for you.

You were the only critter he truly felt any regret and pity for when the hour of joy came.

Thanks for requesting!

#smiling critters #poppy playtime #poppy playtime x reader #catnap x you #catnap x y/n #catnap poppy playtime #catnap #poppy playtime 3 #catnap x reader

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chocolatepot · 4 months

Text

I was searching Google Books to see if "the bee's knees" really was a popular saying in the 1920s (as you do) (it does appear to have been) and came across this wildly homoerotic selection from a novel:

About an hour later I happened to pass Bee's room. She called me in and I got the shock of my life. Arrayed in my discarded lingerie, Bee of the unlovely face had the most beautiful form I, you or anybody else ever saw! Honestly, her figure was a living definition of the word "ravishing" and it left me breathless with admiration for a work of art. From shoulders to instep Bee's every curve - and she had plenty - was an undiluted thrill, but her legs were her piece de resistance. As I gazed on Bee's dimpled knees I was certain that I was viewing the most entrancing pair of limbs in the wide, wide world. I wondered what the unimpressed Jerry would say if he knew - but you follow me, don't you? Bee appeared to be unconscious of her remarkable charms, but I soon convinced her that she was a world beater.

(From Love and Learn: The Story of a Telephone Girl who Loved Not Too Well but Wisely, 1924)

#lesbians!#1920s #history

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romanoffsbish · 9 months

Text

Love Me ‘Til I’m Black and Blue

Natasha Romanoff x F!R

Warnings: Manipulative—Mean(Hurt)/Possessive Natasha | Alluded to Drinking | Violence | Smut w/“Minimal” Plot(whatever that means for me lmao) | Angst (Happy Ending)

18+ | Minors DNI | Labeled/Please Don’t Report

WC: 4,220

Natasha kneaded the flesh of your ass, she was sweet with her touches, but you knew better than to trust the tenderness. All the redhead wanted was to destroy you wholly. To leave you a moaning, drooling mess, just so she could drag you back to the bar and show off her handiwork to all the patrons that ogled you.

More specifically, she'd throw you towards that bitch who had her tongue down your throat. She'd test her, tease her with the greatest temptation—you, just before she'd strike. Her reputation would remain intact as she'd stage it to seem like she was taking advantage of you.

Breaking Susie Q's nose would be warranted.

——

Fortunately she had the resolve to reel her impulses in, and the trained patience to take things with you painstakingly slow. Well, fortunate to the unsuspecting patrons, and for her, but to you not so much. For you it was all so incredibly daunting as you felt the cool breeze rush over your hot slick as it dripped down your thighs and onto the satin sheets.

"You're so beautiful krolick," she purred as her hands groped your ass particularly hard, you moaned wantonly when her fingers dipped down and grazed your folds and she chuckled huskily, "You're making such a fucking mess."

You felt pathetic, you tried to leave, and here you are with a body that worked against you.

"I'm going to enjoy ruining you Y/N, maybe once I'm done you'll remember who you belong to. Nobody will ever try and touch you again."

This was the worst kind of torture, the redhead had you tied to her bed with your ass up, back arched painfully, and legs spread wide open.

There was familiarity to it, a well practiced dance between the two of you, but you also felt something change in the overall energy.

It'd only been three weeks since she'd had you like this, before you left her without a word in the middle of the night because you wanted more than she was willing to offer. More than a night of bliss meant to be cloaked in secrecy.

Natasha had a hero's reputation to uphold, and you, well the only reputation you had was as the patron buying ben and jerry's at the 7/11 on the corner every other night around 2am.

There was never a reason to publicize her attachment to you, or so she hoped. You were her favorite, best kept secret until now. It was finally made public tonight when she, The Black Widow, was seen pulling you out of the nightclub with a dangerous glint in her eyes. It was obvious you weren't an enemy to any of the passerby's, but you were clearly in trouble.

"You thought you could just move on from us and that there wouldn't be any repercussions?"

You gasped as she slapped both your cheeks, then you whimpered as she dug her nails into the skin until she felt blood pooling beneath. "You're such a fucking slut Y/N, I have given you everything you could ever want, and need, but it's never enough. When will you learn?"

You shockingly cut her off, "Not everything!"

Natasha froze, you were feeling rather bold tonight. No matter, she'd fuck the fight out of you, just as she did every time you acted up.

Her hands started the night off with brutality. With every slap she let her anger shine, there was hardly a reprieve, and if there was one it was followed by a swift slicing of her nail. She only stopped when she heard your soft 'please' as that was an indicator you'd call out the safe word soon if she didn't move passed this part.

The redhead squeezed your hips reassuringly as her hands had glided up, then she soothed the open wounds of your bare ass with her warm tongue. "You're so fucking addicting!" Natasha loved the taste of you, it didn't matter whether it was your blood, sweat, glorious tears or purest essence, she was a fiend for it all.

Natasha was abrupt when she left your behind and moved to your side. You winced as the gust of air breezed over your welted, glistening ass leaving you to feel the rush of a harsh sting.

You peered up as best you could with your face smooshed to the bed, your eyes strained as you watched Natasha move in a flash. You heard more than you saw as the fabric slid down her body, and the bedside drawer had opened.

Then, as if Natasha was giving you a master lesson on senses, you felt her fingers press into your throat, gagging you as she shoved her wet panties into your mouth. Your body shivered as you tasted that addictive essence of hers.

"Gonna Pavlov your ass into remembering the only thing you should ever need," she sneered, "Maybe I'll keep you between my legs from now on, everywhere I go, your mouth follows."

Natasha chuckled as she watched you try to close your eyes to hide your arousal, but your hips twitched and you drooled over the ball gag she'd hastily placed into your mouth so you couldn't remove the panties. It was as if you couldn't help but to need to prove her right.

"There you go krolick, you're already behaving accordingly." Her fingers gently traced over the curvature of your face before she disappeared.

The next thing you heard was the faint sound of a flame being ignited, your body followed suit with goosebumps as you wondered what was going on behind you. Natasha watched with delight as you unconsciously squirmed.

She was standing behind you just out of sight with a burning candle in her hand. It was black upon first glance, but as the wax slowly melted it mixed with the bright red layered beneath to create a perfect crimson pool at her disposal.

"Try to stay still now, let's not ruin the sheets just yet detka, I'd rather let your juices do the bulk of that," she husked as her finger dragged up your spine from the tip of your tailbone. A bit of foreshadowing really since only seconds later had she tipped the candle and delighted in the way that the wax slid down your skin as you screamed out in muffled agony. "There you go detka, embrace the burn and feel just how I have felt ever since you walked out on me!"

The woman beamed when you sobbed harder, you should feel remorse for what you've done. Natasha was a sadist by design, but her heart was soft for you at the core, so within a minute (or two) of letting you endure the painful burn she was soothing, and shocking you, as she ran a piece of ice down the same trail of your spine.

The wax fully hardened once more, and you whimpered through the doubled gag to let her know you were appreciative as the cool water dripped down and soothed the agitated skin.

"See krolick?" Her frigid fingertips followed the trail of water to further soothe your sensitive skin. "I'd never ice you out like you did to me, all I want is for you to be happy; in my arms."

With your mind in a state of pure confusion on if this was pleasurable or not she added to it as she began littering the remaining exposed skin of your back with bruises and teeth marks. She smirked against you, relishing in the way that you moaned freely as she marked your skin up.

"I need to see you as I fuck you," she growled against the nape of your neck, her hips firmly pressed into the raging skin of your brutalized ass, and it was then you felt the massive cock.

Natasha flipped you onto your back with little warning, causing you to cry out as your nearly numb limbs were forcefully tangled as your restraints remained. Besides the gags that she swiftly removed and tossed across the room. You gasped at not only your overwhelming soreness, but also your access to breathing had been restored. Momentarily that was, because Natasha was not abstaining for a single second.

The woman was fierce as she slammed her lips into yours, her tongue explored your mouth for what felt like eons. Once she finally retracted the muscle her teeth came out to play. Pearly whites soon gnawed your lower lip between hers, she gave a deceitfully soft suckle to it before she pierced the sensitive layer of skin.

Natasha took great pleasure in feeling the gush against the back of her teeth, so she dared to bite down even harder and twist the lower lip up until your throat shook with a pitiful sob.

The familiar taste of iron flooded your mouth, Natasha pulled away just in time to see your eyes widen as you mulled over just how busted your lip must look. Only for your suspicions to be confirmed at the sight of her devilish grin, Natasha looked down with eyes that spoke of possession, and with teeth stained in crimson.

"Fuck, you look so beautiful like this," she beamed, "Completely at my mercy, my poor, defenseless krolick whatever will you do?"

The question was rhetorical, yet you felt bold enough to answer it. "Leave in the night again."

A harsh slap bounced off the walls of the room and you choked on your bloody saliva as your head flew into the strained muscle of your shoulder, further smearing blood on your body.

"Don't threaten someone who has you tied up, and could make the world forget you exist!"

For a moment everything stopped, you looked into her eyes and only saw traces of honesty. Natasha had never made such a threat before, you'd always had the opened door policy, but something in her eyes died with your words. It was as if she was out of compassion for you, as if you had committed a truly heinous crime.

Such as breaking her heart, something that's usually dealt with by a heartbeats sudden end. Her gaze alone told you that, but her sideways smirk whispered out it wouldn't be that easy.

Every last part of your mind, body and soul should've wanted to run, this wasn't healthy. You even willed your brain to formulate a plan of escape, but your body vehemently refused. Natasha worked you up well, and the feral lilt in her gaze only spurred your arousal on.

Deep down you knew she was hurting, and in the bedroom her anger almost always lead her movements. Whether it be after a mission, or upon seeing someone else near you, she would have you sprawled out beneath her and fucked dumb in minutes. The soft, intimate sex that told you Natasha loved you was rare, and only ever came on nights where she drank herself into a wine haze. The drink romanticized her.

Seeing you dancing with another made her deadly, you were learning jealousy wasn't always the safest bet, but you also knew that this was likely going to be life changing sex.

You were already excessively dripping for her.

Your heart also hoped it would bring about change elsewhere, but for now your mind was muddling with incessant need. Natasha could feel it as her lips hovered your racing pulse, she smirked against the skin, and you were caught.

"Your poker face could use some work, your words and your physiology don't align," her fingers taunted you as they dipped inside of your slick velvet warmth, caressing your walls with roughened fingertips, but never enough to suffice the burning desire for you to be filled.

"Admit that you're mine krolick, and I'll fuck your tight little hole, I can feel it pulsing," she chuckled when your body froze in defiance but your walls fluttered, "Don't deny yourself pleasure by being a stubborn bitch now Y/N..."

"I'm as much yours as you are mine Natasha," you retorted with a bitterness that left the redhead to roll her eyes at your cheeky reply, and to prove herself annoyed she slapped your cunt, making you scream at the brutal force in which your clit had just been assaulted with.

"Semantics are such a bitch." Natasha bit hard into your neck as she grumbled, "Just say what you mean, or keep your lips sealed shut slut."

Natasha hovered over you now, blood dribbling down her chin wearing a glare as sharp as her jawline. You could see in her eyes that she was battling over what to do next. Her hands rested lightly on your chest and her strap pressed into your thigh as she held back on ravishing you. Natasha wanted you to wait for your pleasure, the same way she'd waited for you to return.

"You're so pretty when you're quiet," she noted, then just as you went to pettily reply she wrapped her hand around your throat and a moan replaced your words. Getting caught in your throat as she cut your access to oxygen off fully. Natasha bit her lip as she saw your eyes filling with dread and a swirl of mistrust.

"Maybe I'll put you to sleep, and use you in peace," Natasha grinned devilishly when your eyes widened further in a clear plead. "This is a warning then, be a good girl if you want to be awake when I make your tense body release." Natasha winked, her harsh grip relented slightly, but it remained as she, without any warning, slammed her hips forward and filled your slick cunt with her thick silicone shaft.

The way the bulbous tip slammed into your cervix had you losing sight for a moment, your eyes crossed as your throat bobbed against her palm, and your back had arched all over again.

The redheads hips stilled as soon as they met yours, for a moment it was serene as her forehead pressed into yours. Her hand fell from your neck as she lost herself for a bit. Her shaky breaths fanned across your face, and you smiled at your obvious effect on the woman.

In some deluded way Natasha believed she could feel the squeeze of your cunt, her clit pulsed at the thought. It always drove her wild how your walls would hold her strap captive, even when you were as sopping wet as you were now. It gave her that desirable friction against her clit while it restricted her hips.

Once you sighed she knew she could move, so she took in a large inhale then slowly pulled the strap back out of you. You braced yourself for the storm that always followed the brief moment of calm, and in seconds your eyes were rolled back into the darkness of your mind as she set a brutal pace. Nothing but the white of your eyes was visible to the redhead.

Having you fucked out like this was something she took great pride in. No one would ever be able to satisfy you like she always did, and she knew you were just too stubborn to admit it.

But your body never failed to sing her praises. "Fuck," she groaned as your hips canted up and caused her thrusts to falter, "You see how your body moves with mine? It's because it knows its destined place is to be beneath mine. You're mine krolick!" The bed shook with just how powerful her thrusts had become, you knew she was probably thinking back to the bar.

Your heart grew guilty, and you gave in then. "Yours," you whimpered, and she instantly pressed her lips to yours as her hand weaved between your bodies. Daft fingers spread the peak of your cunt to expose your puffy clit, and she smirked against your parted lips as you screamed. The pleasure instantaneously took you over, a simple swirl of her thumb and you were gushing around her strap. Slick drenched the sheets, her thighs, and your ass as well.

Natasha didn't stop, she merely lifted your legs and kept going. You couldn't even catch your breath before she had your body building back up to a place of ecstasy with the deeper angle of each harsh thrust. Her sloppy thrusts told you that she was close herself and this was her simply chasing her release down without shame, and in turn rewarding you with more.

When Natasha came crashing down her face landed right in between your breasts, her breathing ragged for all of thirty seconds. The widow's stamina was alarming, she'd began to nip and suck as her hips shallowly thrusted. Keeping your cunt engaged as she slowly let her mouth love upon your sensitive breasts.

"Natasha," you whimpered but she pulled away with a sweet smile, her lips pecked yours then she was gone completely. Her strap naturally slipped from inside of you, but just as quickly as you felt your cunt hollow out you were full again as she had kissed down your body in a giddy haste to reach your puffy slicked lips.

Natasha's tongue lapped at your folds, her throaty moans due to the taste of you drove your wild as she plunged her tongue inside of you as far as it could go, and you mewled at the way they vibrated through your cunt. It wasn’t more than seconds before you met her thrusts with renewed intentions. Seconds prior you were begging for her to stop, to cease her thrusting but now you didn't want it to end.

It hadn’t been that long since she last had you spread out like this, with her hands gripping your thighs in a vice grip to keep you wide open as her tongue unleashed havoc upon your cunt. But a week without to her was more like a year, and it’d already been three weeks too many.

Which is why she wasn’t relenting, you tried to shimmy away at one point but Natasha wasn’t having it. She growled viciously, and nibbled on the skin of your thighs in warning, then dove right back in. It was growing increasingly unbearable as you’d not only cum more times then you could count at this point, but the ache in your shoulders was persistently throbbing.

What finally brought her to a stop was when you gushed around her fingers that she’d only just barely slipped inside of you, your thighs quivered then clamped shut so tightly that it kept her lower face and arm from moving. All Natasha could do was sigh in contentment as she felt your essence dripping down her palm, and gushing into her mouth and up her nose.

Natasha reluctantly pulled away when you’d finally unleashed your hold on her head, a smile on her face as the first whiff of air she took in was overtaken by your essence. She hoped the alluring smell wouldn’t fade fast.

Your legs fell into the mattress and she found herself immediately enamored by the sight of you. Your entire body was spent; truly wrecked, and she loved it. Sweat layered your body, causing any dried blood to lighten and pool atop of your skin. There was an array of marks left behind, she wondered if she had lost control in an undesirable way, but her heart absolutely beamed with a negation as she felt it was a warranted response to nearly losing you.

While you worked to merely catch your breath Natasha was up on her feet, removing the harness and grabbing a water from the mini fridge. Then, as you laid there with a fucked out face, with your eyes closed, she’d crawled back up the bed and straddled your body as she worked on removing your jumbled restraints.

The whimper you let out was absolutely pitiful, and it only made you that much more adorable to her. She was oblivious to the genuine pain, so for now she aided you in guzzling down the bottle water. You didn’t register any of it, but Natasha was whispering the sweetest of words against the heated skin of your numb shoulder as she cuddled up incredibly close to you.

The moment was perfect—fleetingly so…

As your mind returned to you it reminded you that it was time to go, the redhead was nearly asleep, and as great as the sex was she wasn't showing any interest in talking this all out. Natasha felt the jolt of your body and her hand flew out to stop you, she moved her body atop of yours and burrowed her head into your neck, as her arms slid between you and the mattress.

"Natasha, let me go, it's already late enough."

"No, you don't need to go Y/N," she mumbled, "You're safe here, with me, where you belong."

"I do not belong anywhere but in my own bed," you growled, then even though your body ached you flipped her onto the bed and sprung to your feet before she could catch you again.

"You're being so ridiculous Y/N!" The redhead shouted, inside she was panicking as you were hastily pulling your scattered clothing back on.

"Wanting to be more than a secret is fair! What's ridiculous is how you play me every single time you get me back into your bed'"

"I'm not playing you," she stammered in hurt. You sighed, "and you don't love me Natasha."

"God, you really are being ridiculous Y/N. I love you so fucking much, can't you see that?!" You scoffed bitterly, "Natasha, love is not something that's meant to be hidden! We've not been on one date in two years together."

"It is when I live with a constant target on my back!" She screamed before she crumpled right to her knees before you, with uncharacteristic tears streaming down her face, she held onto your legs to keep you from leaving her again.

Natasha's life has been misery without you, she wasn't going to give you up without a fight.

"I'm on missions all the time Y/N, I didn't want you stuck at the compound, because now that will be your reality. My humanity won't survive if you were to die because of your ties to me."

You felt stupid, truly, because it wasn't like you didn't discuss the reasons with her before. She was just usually more vague, dismissing you with half-truths, her emotions were never this transparent, and now you saw it more clearly.

Natasha cried harder when you forced her off of you, she wouldn't actually hold you against your will, but she was just hoping you'd stay. That she didn't run you off to the point that you didn't love her anymore. She looked up when the door shut expecting to be alone in her misery, but you were sat down with a sad smile leaning against it. "Come here my love."

The redhead reached you in seconds, her body slammed into yours and for now you decided it best to just let the silence speak for itself, and hopefully mend your equally fragile hearts. It seemed to work too as her sobs died out, and you felt truly at peace for the first time in ages.

"Just promise that this won't be our forever," you broke the silence. "Tell me that one day you will retire, and we can live more freely."

Natasha pulled back with a resolute smile. "Funny enough, I never had imagined a life outside of Avenging until you came along."

You smiled like a child, it was the purest one you'd ever flashed her and she couldn't stop from leaning up to kiss you. "I promise you that we'll be free from this life one day Y/N. Our destiny will be more than just surviving."

"Then I'll be happy to be Wanda's live in bestie whenever you must leave for the worlds sake."

"I was thinking of leaving you with Steve," she deadpanned and you slapped her shoulder, but just as soon regretted it when you felt a sharp pain course through from your hand through your aching shoulders over to the other side.

Natasha frowned at the sharp inhale you took. "Oh krolick, I was too rough," she whispered in clear understanding, and shushed you when you tried to brush off her concern. "Don't, I should have been more in control, I'm sorry."

"Don't be, I loved it Nat," you interrupted her, she quirked a teasing brow, and matched your happiness with a smug smirk at the revelation. "I think just maybe the restraints were a bit too much, like, when you roughly flipped me over."

"I think the restraints were necessary for the sake of our engagement not becoming a murder scene," she teased while standing up, you rolled your eyes but took her hands in yours so she could gently pull you up next.

"Natasha, I am covered in my own blood."

"Are either of us dead though?" You snorted, "Wait! Are you saying you were worried I'd kill you, the infamous Black Widow who could take out a room of men without breaking a sweat?"

"I am saying that it was tense, and I properly fucked the brat out of you. Now get into the bathroom krolick, I'll be right behind you."

——

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