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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 months ago

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Love Game 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your fiance suggests incorporating roleplay in the bedroom to keep the spark alive, but playing pretend turns out to be all too real.

Characters: Andy Barber, Lloyd Hansen

Note: I did this because I could.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

'You ready?'

A tingle accompanies the text. Your stomach tosses and turns at the thought. You think you're ready. As ready as you can be. It's all so new to you.

You hover your finger over the automated reply suggested by the OS. You tap on 'yes', too shaky to type it yourself. You're not scared, just nervous.

When Andy first brought up the idea, you laughed. It was so absurd. Silly really.

You remember how the look he gave you was like hands on your throat. The hurt with an edge of agitation strangled away your laughter. You apologised and asked him if you heard him right. Then he explained and it made sense. Kind of.

'If we're going to get married, we need to keep the flame alive,' your fiance said as you stirred the contents of a pan with a spatula. 'Trust me, I know. A dead bedroom can kill everything else.'

You frown at the memory. You hate when he mentions his first wife. He's engaged to you now. You're not her. Besides, things are pretty good. That's why you laughed. There was nothing bland to spice up. At least, you hadn't thought so.

'You know the plan?' He texts. Always thorough, if not persistent.

'I think' you type as you squeeze your phone tighter then think better of the reply. You backspace. Remember the plan. 'Yes, sir.'

You blow out between your lip and put the phone on the counter. You look in the mirror and pick up the bottle of moisturizer, smearing it over your face. Half the day you've spent prepping yourself. Everything has to be perfect. Andy is always certain of that.

You snap the cap shut and peruse the rest of the basket. He thought of everything. New soaps, wax, perfume, and all sorts of goodies. You didn't need it all but he insisted.

Everything about Andy Barber is pristine and tidy. His house not least of his carefully curated existence. So it is that you often feel as if you don't quite fit it, even when he tells you the opposite.

Your phone vibes and you look down at the screen as the notification flashes, 'good girl.'

Your lashes bat and you giggle thinly. You've never done anything like this. You struggle to get a precise grip on the tweezers and have to still your hand with the other. This is wild!

You rub your thighs together and strike hotter the flame of your anticipation. As much as the whole thing has you uncertain, it has you alight. You steady yourself and lean into the mirror, just a few stray hairs. It shouldn't matter, it'll be dark, right?

Your phone goes again. You pull back and glance down. You trade the tweezers for the cell and press your lips together.

'Did you find your surprise?'

You look up and search your expression. Surprise? You lower your brow and peer around the bathroom. There's more?

'Bedroom' his next message comes bluntly.

You chew your lip and leave the mirror behind. You go down to the main bedroom and ease through the door. The room still smells of his cologne. The whole place is drenched in him, meanwhile most people wouldn't guess at a glance that you lived there too.

You see it on the bed. White silk and lace. The lingerie is sheer enough that you may as well forego it. You near and touch the scalloped hem. You know it must be expensive, funny how so little fabric can be worth so much.

You step back and take a picture. You send it to Andy and wait, your thumb between your teeth. He replies.

'Put it on.'

His blunt orders add to the thrum coursing through you already. It seems he's already in character. You need to get yourself together and do your part.

'Yes, sir.'

You set the phone on the corner of the mattress and trade your bathroom for the lingerie. The thong, while high-waisted has you on full display. Not ass, no crotch, just lace straps that trim your thighs and bottom. The top is an open teddy with cups that do nothing to censor your pert nipples. Just wearing it sends a thrill through you.

You take the phone and return to the bathroom. You use the full-length mirror to frame your reflection with the lens. You snap a few pics and sift through for the best one. You hesitate before you tap the little arrow. You're a mess of paranoia and lust; you shouldn't send photos like this and yet you can't help yourself.

You wait for his reply. Wait and wait and wait. You have to stop yourself from staring at the phone, knowing that your hyperfocus will only slow time. You cross to the counter and place the phone near the edge.

Your attention is drawn to the sheer fabric acrosd your chest. You can't suppress the moan that leaks from you. You can feel how excited you already are but your eagerness might just get in the way of the whole thing.

You sigh and the buzz draws you back from your anxiety. You read the message, almost disappointed.

'Midnight.'

That's it. That's all he has to say. Was the pic not good enough? Is this part of the roleplay? You don't know.

As ever, Andy has you guessing at what he really wants. Hopefully this time, you get it right.

💕

10:47pm. You’re wired. You’re trying to settle down. You have freshly laundered bedding and a glass of wine; all the perfect ingredients to lull you to sleep. That’s all you need to do. Fall asleep.

Yet knowing what’s coming won’t let your mind stop. Ugh, your heart is racing again. You need to finish the wine. You push yourself up and have another gulp. You lay in the glow of your phone, a Get Ready With Me playing on low volume. Usually this all works.

Not tonight. You’re too buzzy. Too frazzled. Too eager!

You empty the glass and lay back down. You were generous, filling the wide body of the glass to the halfway point. At least two regular glasses worth.

Your head meets the pillow and you start to feel it. The acidic burn spreads through your veins and you sink into the soft sheets. You turn your head to watch the small screen of your phone, vision slowly hazing as the contoured woman applies her lip liner expertly.

Your eyelids cling and start to itch. Your heady is swishy, your tummy too, and your limbs weaken. It’s working. You try not to think too much about it, not wanting to counteract the alcohol with your self-awareness.

You roll onto your side and drift into a half-conscious daze. Your brain swirls and your blood burns hot. Your breathing slows and piques only when your rouse, glancing at your phone as a new video plays. The time stamps into your vision; 11:25.

You curl your shoulders inward, more tired than anxious now, and slip back into your tipsy stupour. The screen is just a glow on the other side of your eyelids and the audio a scratch in your ears. It fades beneath the even ebb and flow of your quiet snores.

As the light fades out and the sound dwindles to nothing but the still of night, you wake again. Your eyes open to the darkness. You’re alone. Confused.

You feel around on the bed for your phone. It must have timed out or the battery died. You don’t find it. Instead, your wrist is trapped in a strong grip and dragged away from the duvet. You gasp and remember what’s going on. It’s starting. He’s there.

“Ah, ah,” comes the grizzled tut as your other arm is seized and your hands are brought together above your head.

Andy’s shadowy figure straddles you, pinning you to the mattress as you squirm. You let out a squeak and he hushes you. You still and arch your back, trying to push your chest up.

“Please, who are you?” You whine, doing your best to play into the scenario. “Please, my husband will be home soon--”

He shushes you again, holding your wrists together as he leans back to reach behind him. You can hardly see through the dark and your foggy tipsiness. The curtains have been drawn, obscuring the room to fuzzy lines and pulsing shadows.

He hooks something around your arm; a leather cuff, then secures your other wrist. He keeps your arms up and reaches behind the mattress. He attaches the wring between the cuffs to some unseen hook. Where did that come from?

You writhe as he stares down at you. You squint back at him, trying to see through the dim. Something feels off. He’s so quiet and forceful. It must be part of the roleplay but it just doesn’t feel like him. He feels like a stranger.

He backs off of you, peeling back the duvet to drop it on the floor. He prowls along the foot of the bed and you kick your feet, whimpering as you strain against the cuffs. You keep forgetting it’s a game. You have to play your part too.

“Please, don’t hurt me,” you beg.

There’s no answer. Andy continues to pace, back and forth, back and forth. He's really transformed. Where he would usually have his hands on his hips, he has them folded behind him, shoulders squared, his steps lighter.

He stops and lets out a willowy rasp. He unzips his jacket, slipping off the sleeves slowly, deliberately. You lift your head as you try to see him clearer. Did he change? He must have dressed up too.

Then he pulls his shirt over his head and huffs out again, a growl catching in his throat. He drops the shirt with his jacket and the duvet. Andy never leaves a garment outside the closet or hamper but this isn’t Andy, remember? This is an intruder! And you’re the helpless housewife.

You nearly moan at the thought. Something about it is so hot even if it makes you a bit squidgy too. You tug again on your wrists as you hear his zipper slice through the din.

“Please--” you beg.

He kicks the footboard and the loud bang silences you. You can’t help the pathetic noise that trickles from your tongue and you swallow. He’s doing good. It feels so real.

He continues to undress. Your heartbeat picks up as you wait for him to really start. He bends to pick something up then climbs over the footboard onto the bed. For a moment, you wince. His silhouette is slimmer. Or seems so. The difference is so minuscule it might be your wine-laced brain playing tricks.

He catches your kicking feet and pushes your legs wide. He trails his hands up them, a piece of fabric tickling beneath his left palm, and firmly hooks them around him as he moves between them. He stops at your pelvis, his rigid length hovering over you. He stretches the black cloth across your eyes, blotting out what little sight you have. He knots the band behind your head and you gasp.

He traces along your cheeks and your jawline, as if he can see you through the dark, as if he’s learning you by touch. His fingertips dance down your throat and across your shoulders. You feel fragile as he toys with the strap of the lingerie and feels along the flimsy cups, circling his thumbs around your nipples as they pebble beneath the sheer silk.

He gropes you and growls. The noise is guttural and raw. It flutters into your core and has you twitching. He pushes his knees against your cunt, moving so the friction flurries in your clit. You babble and raise your chest, hungry for his touch.

He flicks your nipples and his hands crawl onward, down your torso, doting on the soft flesh of your stomach, and framing your hips as he draws back on his knees. He snarls and bends over you, bowing as he grips you tightly. His nails dig into your skin and you whine as you feel his hot breath against your folds.

He nuzzles along the edges of the panties, growling as he does, squeezing your harder, then at once, buries his nose in your cunt. He wiggles his head and drags the tip of his nose up over your clit and swipes his tongue up to further set you aflame. You moan and curve your back, planting your heels as you urge him on.

He delves into you, lapping and licking, suckling and swirling. His arm reaches up and he kneads your chest, blindly pulling the lingerie under one tis. He pinches as you cry out and he rolls your clit between his teeth. You puff out shallow breaths, swept up in the sensations.

This is so different. Unlike he’s ever been before. He’s almost feral in how he touches you, how he feels you, how it seems he wants to consume you. There’s something else different, something strange you can’t place.

Did he shave? You can’t tell, It must be the wine. His cheeks feel bare against your thighs and yet you swear you feel that scratchy tickle against your cunt. You don’t think about it; it’s all too much to focus.

You squeal as you cum, spasming into his face as he drinks up your orgasm. You’re heaving and hollow as he doesn’t let up. He laps at you until you’re begging him to stop. Until you’re quaking, nearly sobbing in overwrought pleasure. Until you have a second, a third, and a fourth.

Your slickness smears over his face and across your thighs. As he parts, his breath is humid, and you can smell the sweet scent of your release. You shiver as he raises himself up and the bed jostles. He snarls and slaps your thighs, squeezing until you whimper.

He shifts and slides a hand under your leg. He flips you onto your stomach so your arms twist and your face is buried in the pillow. You pant into the linen as he smacks your ass with both hands and growls as he fondles you. You murmur as his touch sends tendrils down your legs and up your back.

He grips your hips once more and raises your ass. Oh my god. It’s only a few times you’ve done it like this, often Andy prefers you on your back. He says he likes to see you.

He pulls you back against him, his length resting between your cheeks as he bends over you. He inhales the scent of your hair and snarls against your crown. He reaches down to feel between your legs, spreading your swollen cunt as he angles his hips.

His tip slips down and he uses his fingertips to guide it to your entrance. You’re so wet he slips right in. He sounds just as surprised as he gasps. He sinks into your limit and you whine. He retracts his arm, hooking it around your neck, and thrusts.

You squeal as he buries himself even deeper. He does it again; harder. It hurts. You croak and press your chin down into his arm. You feel a ripple of fear. His chest feels... bare. Andy has that trim of fur that you like to play with. Maybe he got rid of it? For the roleplay?

He snaps his hips again, staying deep before slowly rearing back. He pauses, then bucks again. The impact of his pelvis on your ass is painful and he’s hitting your cervix.

“Ow, Andy--”

“Quiet,” he grits in a deep sneer and brings his other hand up to smother your mouth.

He leans his weight on you, your neck and shoulders aching from the angle of your spine. He dips into you again, again, again. Each pause between grows shorter as he tilts into a full rut. The entire bed shakes with his motion.

You squeeze your eyes shut and curl your fingers into your palms, the cuffs slowing your circulation. You huff into his hand as he continues his rampant fucking, skin slapping, bones aching. Harder, deeper, faster, until you’re delirious.

“What’s your husband going to think when he comes home to his wife being fucked like a slut?” He rasps and nibbles your ear, “huh? How’s he gonna compare to this, baby? Your husband can’t fuck like me can he?”

He taunts and you cringe. You don’t like it anymore. It’s not fun. You don’t want him to be this man. To be this rough and rude. You want him to be Andy. You try to say his name again but only taste the salt of his palm.

“Keep your mouth shut, slut,” he sinks into his limit and stays there, his voice echoing in your head. His tone is just... off. “I’m not done with you yet.”

#andy barber #lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark andy barber #dark!lloyd hansen #dark!andy barber #andy barber x reader #lloyd hansen x reader #defending jacob #love game #the gray man #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series

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navstuffs · 1 year ago

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5 stars ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Pairing: Re4!Leon Kennedy x F!Reader

Summary: Leon Kennedy is on his way to pick you up in 5 minutes.

Warning tags: SMUT SO NO MINORS, NSFW, porn with plot, car sex, roleplay of rideshare driver x passenger, ooc leon (he doesn't hit the car), masturbation (female), sex (p in v), public sex, creampie, image taken from google and edited by me

Author's Note: heeey, i had this on my draft sitting for so long and wrote this from 11 pm to 2 am, in a frenzy. i had so much fun writing, (not so much fun editing this picture let me tell ya), so i hope you enjoy it too!

my leon's masterlist

Leon Kennedy is on his way to pick you up in 5 minutes.

You blink at the message sent to your phone, confused. You had just finished a good walk in the park and could definitely walk back home, no biggie. The weather had been great, not too warm or humid. Your husband had other plans, clearly. You pinpoint your location to your driver, excitement growing inside of you.

Not even four minutes later, the black Range Over enters the park's gates, and you start giggling. Before getting in the car, you must laugh as much as you need, you think. If your husband was doing this, he had an excellent reason.

The car stops by your side, and you open the backseat door. Inside, a handsome and familiar face looks at you in the rearview mirror.

"Leon?" You hold back a laugh, simply giving a timid smile. Leon asks your name, and you confirm. "Would you mind if I rode in the passenger seat, Sir?"

Leon mumbles an inaudible "Not at all." You know just calling Leon "Sir" has already affected him. You close the back door, open the passenger's and jump right in. Leon is wearing a black baseball cap over his golden locks, and you control another urge to not chuckle. To complete the look, he wears one of his tight black shirts (which makes his chest looks huge) and the black pants you love on him.

Leon is staying in character: it is weird he isn't smiling at your presence, but you are to be blamed for this. He is trying, and it is your fault.

You were the one who revealed, while drunk, how interesting it would be to get fucked in a car by a rideshare app driver if, of course, he was Leon. You knew it was a silly fantasy, but Leon considered it a great idea to surprise you at the right time. And the moment finally came, when you left the house ready for a walk, wearing a green shirt and those tight pants.

"Is the AC okay, ma'am?" You are taken aback by how serious and smooth his voice sounds.

"Mhm, yes, thank you, Sir." But two could play into that game.

You can feel Leon staring at your gym pants, going up to your shirt and cleavage. You lied: the car was a little too cold, and your nipples, protected by your bra top, were starting to get hard, a fact that didn't pass unnoticed by your driver.

"Are you sure you are not cold?" Leon asks again, his blue eyes struggling to stay focused on the road.

"Maybe a little," You admit.

Instead of raising the AC temperature, Leon places his warm leg in your upper leg. Surprised by the sudden touch, you don't move as Leon caresses slowly.

"This help?" Leon murmurs, and you nod as his hand starts raising up slowly. "How do you plan on paying for this ride?"

"I have no cash on me. Or cards," You whisper, your body shaking with anticipation. Your eyes wander outside momentarily, not recognizing the empty road you are on and not even caring.

"I guess you will have to pay me in another way, then," Leon sounds decisive, a naughty smile playing on his lips.

"What other way, Sir?" You pretend to sound nervous, despite your body warming up.

Leon answers by firmly pressing his thumb against your clit, as the rest of his hands grab the middle of your legs. Bastard, who knew your body so well by now. He rubs circles through the fabric, an approval hum coming from his chest.

"I think this could work."

You moan back a frail "Yes," spreading your legs open so Leon can have easier access. Your worries about him hitting the car don't even come to mind: you would trust Leon with your life. And the windows are tinted, so fuck it. Your head falls back against the seat as Leon continues with the lazy strokes.

"Touch yourself. Pull your top up."

You follow as told, pulling your shirt and top up until your collarbone. The cold wind from the AC makes you wince a little, the seatbelt scratching against your bare skin. You don't mind, your nipples so hard Leon licks his lips with desire. He also notices your chills, and suddenly you have your husband back.

"Do you want to raise the AC, sweetheart? I don't want you to get sick, and my hand is quite busy down here."

You nod, raising the temperature before going back on, pinching your nipples, a fire spreading in your veins. Typical of Leon getting worried about you getting sick like he doesn't have his hand in the middle of your legs.

"S-sir...Leon." You moan desperately, and Leon grunts an answer. You think he might pull over any minute now, but Leon continues driving, despite his attention flickering between you and the road.

"Take your pants down. And your panties as well."

You take your gym pants down, together with your panties. When you place your feet into the seat, Leon momentarily loses control of the car, causing it to jolt to the left, but he quickly retakes control. You are going to be the death of him, spreading your legs like that, your body turned to him.

Fuck, Leon thinks. You look adorable, sexy, hot, spread like that, your pussy wet and ready for him. Your chest is rising up, and your face is heating up. He wants to stop the car and take you now, but Leon is committed to giving you what you want.

"Let-let me check" You hide a smile when Leon Kennedy stutters, but your smile disappears when your mouth turns into an "o" while he rubs his index finger, starting from your clit down to your entrance. He pulls in just the tip of his finger before pulling out.

Leon tastes his fingertip as if savoring it, making your stomach drop. You are so fucking glad you aren't driving this car, or you both would be dead by now.

"It should be enough as payment," Leon declares, not hiding his proud smile when he sees you even more embarrassed. He wanted to grab his phone and record it. Maybe next time, he thinks.

Without wasting any more time, Leon shoves two fingers inside of you. Your head goes back against the seat and the window, the cold feeling good against your warm skin. He rocks his fingers slowly, admiring your pleasure expressions.

"Look at the mess you are making on my seat," Leon says, smooth and proud. You look down, your wetness even more evident against the dark seat. Leon doesn't seem to care, pumping his fingers fast inside you.

"Leon," You moan, desperate.

"I know, sweetie, I know." It is your Leon back again. You barely know how your husband is holding up, keeping you safe as your eyes glance at the hard cock between his legs. Your hand tries to approach it, but Leon shakes his head, a blush rising on his cheeks. Not if we want to live, Leon thinks.

"It is about you now, okay? Be a good girl and touch yourself for me."

"O-okay." You sob. You take your fingers into your clit, rubbing in a circular motion, squeezing Leon's fingers even harder. You close your eyes, trying to focus on the knot on your belly. You are so close now.

"Open your eyes. Open your eyes, sweetheart."

You hear the command and obey, your eyes focusing on Leon's blue ones. He shares the attention between the road and your eyes. He is sweating, his other hand holding the wheel with his fists white. You want to touch him so badly, it hurts. Leon is panting now, jerking his fingers fast inside of you, your movements in your clit following the speed. You moan his name over and over again, finally releasing the knot in your stomach. You cum, tears in the corner of your eyes, as your head falls back. Leon only stops when your whole body just relaxes against the seat.

The car jolts when Leon finally pulls over and locks the car doors, but you barely seem to register a drunken smile on your lips. He pulls his fingers out, pulling them inside your mouth.

"This is my tip. Come on. Lick them clean."

You lazily lick his fingers back, still trying to catch your breath. When he considers them clean enough, Leon pulls his fingers out of his mouth, his eyes entirely focused on you and only you. Your Leon seems back, releasing you from your seatbelt to pull you into his lap. You can feel his dick against your ass as Leon rubs your back.

"You okay?"

"Mhmmmm. Where are we?" You ask drunkenly.

"I have no idea," He chuckles while you hide your face in his chest.

"That's why you didn't come in the walk with me, you were plotting, sneaky bastard."

Leon chuckles, letting you relax for a few moments. He looks outside the car for signs of human presence, but there is nothing, just trees. No other vehicle has even passed since Leon was driving on this road. He doesn't want to push you to do anything you don't want, of course, especially after how much energy you just used. You seem to understand, though, turning off the car.

"What are you doing?"

"Deciding for you. Come here."

You release Leon from his seatbelt, pulling him to the backseat. You finally kiss, Leon's body covering yours, his clothes reminding you he is too dressed.

"I probably won't last," Leon states apologetically. With his help, you undress him leaving Leon only with his black boxer briefs. Leon finally throws your bra and shirt far away. You want to argue those were your favorites, but he steals another hot kiss from you.

A car passes fast, illuminating Leon and your faces for a second before disappearing. It doesn't have to be an idiot to understand what is happening inside, especially with the now car's foggy windows. You pull his boxer briefs down, and his cock presses against your belly, causing you to chill. You lick your lips, adjusting your position in your backseat as Leon's forehead frowns.

"Hey. Don't worry about it: if it is the police, you can just show your badge and say it is a secret mission or something."

Leon chuckles, knowing you are probably right. He tries to say something, but you finally stroke his dick, just the tip, and Leon is trembling in your hands, his blue eyes glowing.

"Shit, sweetie, one second."

"We don't have much time, Leon." You argue, impatience. You wrap your legs around his waist with your back leaning against the window and the car seat. Leon stands kneeling in front of you, one of his hands at the window and the other holding the seat behind your head.

Leon enters you slowly, causing you both to groan. Leon is much louder than you, and the car starts shaking as soon as he starts moving.

"Shit, you feel so good. You liked your driver that much?" Leon teases, his golden locks rubbing your face.

"5 stars. Ri-right there, baby," You answer, holding him close to you. Leon knew precisely where and how to poke you with the right intensity. You try to stay silent, focusing on the noises of your pussy and Leon's groans. As his thrusts become harder without you even needing to ask, another car in a different direction passes, this time much slower, his high beam on. Leon notices your worried expression, pulling your chin back to look at him, and biting your mouth.

"Let them hear. I want them to see you are mine. Come on." Leon changes the angle slightly, and you scream, squeezing his triceps. He is thrusting so hard you can hear the car groaning. You forget about the existence of other cars and everything else, focusing your eyes on Leon's.

"S-so close," You sob, and Leon takes his hand to rub your clit. It takes two strokes until your body arches from the seat, shaking. You moan incoherently, while you close your hands in Leon's arms, as a way to keep you from passing out. Leon soon follows you, biting your neck as he cums deep inside of you, jerking his hips until the very last drop.

You two remain breathless. Leon's hair is damp with sweat, and he looks a mess. You kiss his cheek, looking at Leon's arm flexing so he doesn't put his weight on top of you.

"Are they gone?" Leon barely registers what you are asking, finally remembering the other car from earlier. He has to pass his hand over the window to take the condensations, searching. It seems that they left.

"They are gone."

"Bring me up, Leon, please."

He nods and gently brings you to your lap, still deep inside you. You just need a moment to catch your breath. You rest against his shoulder again, a happy and small smile on your face.

"Well, this tops the cowboy experience."

Leon chuckles, relaxing his head against the seat. When he starts feeling sleepy, Leon lifts his head, finding you already napping.

"I have to drive away soon, sweetheart. Before you fall asleep completely, why don't you wear your shirt and pants, okay?" You murmur something inaudible, and Leon smiles. He finds your shirt under his seat and your pants in front of yours and helps you dress, you more asleep than awake. Next, Leon pulls his shirt on and his pants, swearing low when he does not find his briefs. Guess he is going commando, then.

Leon leaves you half-lying in the backseat, placing your seatbelt before jumping back into the driver's seat. He gives you one good look, sleeping peacefully, before finding his cap on the floor and placing it on his head. It is time to take you home.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x female reader #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x female reader #leon s kennedy x you #leon kennedy #leon kennedy fanfic #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy fanfics #leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy smut #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy imagines #IM SO SURPRISED I PULLED THIS ONE OFF #(off i won't tell you where)

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rodolfoparras · 1 year ago

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Thinking about old man Price, cont| 18+, MDNI

Pairing: John Price x Male Reader

Content tags: age gap, power dynamics, corruption kink, mentions of erectile dysfunction, sex toys, exhibitionism, roleplay, jealousy, riding, blow jobs, sir kink, humiliation

Old man Price who gets worried that someone will take you away from him so he constantly wants to prove himself to you by riding you so good you almost pass out, shows you he knows just how to suck a cock right, bet none of the young boys know that

Old man Price who wants to stay in shape just so he can keep up with your sex drive, think about him working out just so he can ride your cock, or working out so he can go multiple rounds

Old man Price who you’ll have to give a whole body massage to because his body tends to ache but it just ends up in a whole lot of kissing and caressing and him cumming all over your hand

Old man Price who’ll wear his old recruit uniform even though it barely fits, who’ll pretend you’re the superior here, who’ll call you Sir and have you punish him by bending him over his desk and bullying your cock into his hole or ride you in his office chair when he’s stark naked and you’re still in uniform

Old man Price who’s never been adventurous when it comes to sex but as he gets older and as he meets you he’s willing to be more risky about things, will wear vibrating butt plugs while out in public, will let you fuck him in some dirty bathroom stall too

Old man Price who can’t help but love your young energy, the way you’ll suck on his tongue, lick into his mouth, bite down on his lip till he tastes blood on it, fuck he usually has to take pills to get his dick up but just by kissing you gets him rock hard

Old man Price who loves when you make him feel embarrassed for being this eager to be fucked by you, who you’ll call a dirty old perverted man while stroking his cock only to have him cum all over your knuckles in a matter of seconds

Old man Price who loves to show you just how good he knows how to suck a cock, who’ll have a cocky smile on his face as you cum all over it

Old man Price who’ll find a man who looks just like you, and suck him off in his room.

You’ll end up stumbling upon them because the door was left ajar (probably because they’d been in a rush) but while Price is down on all four sucking on this man’s cock he’ll be looking at you (he doesn’t even know why he’s doing it maybe it’s the few drinks he’s had at the bar maybe it’s because the pining got too much)

imagine his eyes half lidded cheeks flushed and lips stretched around the man’s cock while he keeps his gaze locked on you as if trying to prove himself, as if trying to convince you to fuck him

#John price #John price x reader #John price x male reader #captain price #captain price x reader #captain price x male reader #top male reader #dom male reader #bottom male character #sub male character #call of duty

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house-of-slayterr · 3 months ago

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Jonathan Crane Headcanons:

Tag: @kados-of-chaos @keffirinne @myers-meadow

As I’ve said in a previous head cannon I do believe Crane has some form of OCD. Something he’s fully convinced he can treat himself as he doesn’t believe in seeing the other psychiatrist in Gotham, let alone his colleges he views an inferior at Arkham. He easily grows obsessed with patients, much more quickly than Harley ever did with Joker. But he doesn’t fall in love with that, his obsession is much much darker. His compulsion drive him to devour every part of his patients psyche, learn everything about what makes them tic, he’s gonna as far as to steal items from his favourite patients or visit them once they’re “good” enough to leave Arkham. His patient obsession helps to distract him from his Batman obsession, and he uses both to avoid the intrusive thoughts he hates so much. Most of which are about his father.

Because of this, it’s not far fetched for you to become an object of his obsession. Jonathan will learn every inch of you body, lurk in every corner of your brain. Jonathan will be sure you’re as obsessed with him as he is with you. He believes this is healthy, and will resort to giving you Stockholm syndrome to make you fall in love with him. He needs control in his relationships, he’ll only hurt his darling little bird if they break his rules, but he fully believes it’s for your safety. Jonathan would kidnap you and steal you away form everyone he thinks is poisoning you without hesitation. Even using some drugs from his job or his own fear gas if he has to, in order to program you.

I believe Jonathan enjoys more than just psychological tortures. The man loves to see red, but he’s less interested in it being by his hand specifically. To keep up his rouse he likes to “save” people, but little does everyone know he always orchestrated the situation anyways. He’s driven many patients to kill before, he finds it amusing how weak and easy they are to push over the edge. Then they get caught for doing his biding and he gets to hide in plain sight. But he’s also convinced patients to turn the blade on themselves before. Partially if you were his darling, he’d drive you to carve his name into your own skin. Do things to prove your dedication to him. He finds your devotion to him amusing and will reward you after. But he will make you worse before he lets you get better, there’s no way he’s letting you out of his care, even if it means breaking you mentally.

He cares a lot about his public imagine and what the people at large think about him. His suits, his hair, his face is always impeccable. Never a spot on his glasses or a wrinkle in his suit. He must look perfect when leaving the safety of his home or lab without his scarecrow mask. Which, by the way, is always on him or close by, he can’t be without it for too long. Once he’s trapped his darling little bird, he’ll do the same to you. He’ll fuss over hair, makeup, general appearance, he’ll even iron your clothes for you if you refuse. He won’t be seen with you unless you look as adequate as he does. He knows people like to stare when you go out, might as well give them something to stare at. But people should be careful not to stare to long or they be visited by a certain scarecrow at night, defending the honour of his favourite bird.

Jonathan I believe would be a very sexual man, he pretend at work to not be interested in anything of the sort, most people not even used to seeing the doctor dating anyone. When he’s single, his sexual fantasies play out much darker. But once he has someone to share his desires with, the man becomes a feral animal. He’s gone as far as to beg for more before, addicted to your touch, taste, sound, it’s all that distracts him now form the intrusive thoughts. He loves to tie you up, see you helpless, roleplaying as your psychiatrist or doctor is his favourite. Doing things to you he’s not allowed to do to patients. He’d never dare taint his fingers with their feeling, or his mouth with their taste. If his mind wonders, his body is still only yours. He growls a lot during sex and loves if you dig your nails into him and leave mark he has to hide. He finds it scandalous and exciting to have your little secret written all over him. Jonathan doesn’t like children, but that doesn’t mean you’re free from his breeding kink, he’s obsessed with the idea of getting you pregnant. Even if your AMAB it wouldn’t stop the filthy words from pouring out of his mouth, of how much he wish he could claim you that way. He’s certainly a dom, but he can switch between hard and soft. He’s willing to be more gentle if you need but some nights he needs to be rough, use you to get out his pent up frustrations. Usually after he comes home defeated by the Batman. He will have you at his will for hours whenever he can. Not letting up no matter how much you squirm.

Surpassingly, he’s a cat person. He’s not a big fan of dogs as most people don’t train there’s, but cats, you could convince him to rescue a few. But they must be as put together as they two of you. He will brush and groom them frequently, make sure they’re healthy and put them in little outfits for family photos. He’s much softer to them than he is to people. He’s very gentle and reassuring if an animal passes away, as he knows what to say to grieving people. He’ll not leave your side until you’re ok again.

He loves to be of service if you’re sick, tacking care of you is his top priority. Especially if it’s something serious that causes you to go to the hospital, he will be there everyday to check in for hours unless he’s pulled away from a work emergency. Even then he doesn’t leave you happily. He will nurse you back to health and bow to your every whim until you’re on your feet again. Because he knows you’d do the same for him.

No matter how tempested he is, he won’t experiment on his darling unless they ask for it. He wants to break you from your fears the same way his father freed him. But he knows how painful the process was and won’t put you through that unless you agreed or he truly thought it was for your safety. He will however get you used to his fear gas so it can never backfire and be used against him to hurt you. But don’t worry, if you scared he’ll hold you close and help you sleep at night.

Jonathan is not one to share, he won’t let any other villain in Gotham lay a hand on you. Not without consequences. He’s willing to take out the others or even work with Batman to do so just to keep you safe. He doesn’t view the other villains as his friends or colleagues and will crush them if they get in his way. Or try to hurt his little bird. Jonathan also goes feral when you wear his clothes or cologne because of it. He loves when you smell like him, it makes him happy. He never gets mad for long if one of his favorite shirts or blazers goes missing when he finds you fast asleep wearing it. He loves to show you off but makes it clear you’re just for him.

An: lol I got bored this morning idk if any of these make sense.

#fang writes #gotham headcanons #jonathan crane #jonathan crane x reader #the scarecrow #gotham villains

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everliving-everblaze · 2 months ago

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FAQ

What is this event?

It's a KotLC roleplaying game carried out through asks! It's set on Halloween in the Lost Cities, and you send and answer asks in-character, pretending you're trick or treating. The askers are the trick-or-treaters, and every askbox is a different residence!

When is it?

It officially takes place on October 31st, whenever that is in your time zone. But I'm not going to stop anyone from participating before or after the official event.

Is it only canon characters?

All KotLC-related characters are welcome! They don't technically have to be from the Lost Cities, even; if a human has snuck their way in, who am I to stop them?

Additionally: It's fine to use the same character as someone else (though you should ask permission for OCs). You could even use a different character for every ask you send or reply to!

How does this work, if elves don't celebrate human holidays?

For the purposes of this event, they do. Feel free to come up with your own lore for it—I'll be pretending that elves and humans have re-established contact, and Halloween has come over to the Lost Cities because of that.

What are the rules?

Since this isn't a moderated event, there aren't "rules," per se. I would ask that people avoid dark or triggering topics, out of politeness for their fellow participants. I would also suggest, within reason, to send asks to the people who send you asks. But that isn't going to be possible for everyone, and that's totally fine!

I would also ask that people don't use the main tags. People browsing #kotlc or #keeper of the lost cities aren't looking for a bunch of roleplaying; they're looking to see posts about the series. Instead, please use the event tag, #keepblr trick or treat.

How much are people expected to participate?

There's no too little or too much! If you want to come up with an OC and give them a residence, a backstory, relationships to other people's OCs, a costume, and original treats (or tricks) to hand out, that's all game. But if you wanted to send one person an ask and call it a day, that's game too!

How do I join?

You just get started! If you want to make it clear to people that you're accepting event-related asks, I would suggest pinning a post about it (maybe with information about your character and their residence, for people stopping by)!

#keepblr #keepblr trick or treat

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cyberrose2001 · 10 months ago

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Kinktober: Day 9

Prompt: Spanking

TFA Sentinel x afab gn human!reader

Warnings: Spanking, degradation, fingering, size difference, roleplaying.

Word Count: 1,542

Got a little carried away with this... just a little... i hope y'all enjoy

@sentinelprimeswife because she requested the character and wanted to be tagged :)

"Well, well, well, if it isn't the fleshy that's been snooping around on my ship," Sentinel slams the airlock shut, turning towards you with an authoritative posture, "You didn't think we'd have surveillance cameras, did you?"

You jump at the boom of the airlock, whipping your head around to face Sentinel like a deer in headlights. All you wanted to do was check out the weird spaceship in the dead centre of the city, but naturally, you got curious and slipped past the invisible shield through a hidden opening.

Well, that's what you would say if all this wasn't roleplay.

Everyone thinks that Sentinel is organic-repulsed, that he finds humans so disgusting and pathetic. But it's all a cover-up. His attraction to humans feels shameful and is considered an abomination, in his words. So he plays pretend so as to not make the other bots suspicious. But occasionally, there's an opportunity to play for real, with a little human Jazz made friends with.

It's cute really, how much it turns Sentinel on, to wield his power over you, a tiny human that has no business gettin' flirty with alien robots.

You feign fear, not expecting him to find you so soon. Though that's a bit stupid of you to think when your hiding place was Sentinel's private office. But it wasn't entirely an accident.

"I'm sorry sir," You back yourself up against the large desk, much too large for you, "I-I was just curious-"

"Oh you were curious, were you?" Sentinel scoffs, striding over to you, "You humans have a saying, now what was it- ah yes, curiosity killed the tiger."

"Cat."

"Whatever," Sentinel rolls his optics, "My point is, you've got some nerve sneaking around on my ship, squishy. And that's enough to warrant punishment for a Cybertronian, let alone a human."

You bite your lip, "What kind of punishment are we talking about, sir?"

Sentinel looks down at you, getting an absolute kick out of the difference in size. His derma tugs at the corner, "That's for me to know and for you to find out."

You watch with ardour as he walks around to his chair behind the desk and sits down, though his posture seems more relaxed. He clears his vocalizer, a garbled static with a hidden excitement, "Well? Are ya gonna come out from the front of my desk or what?"

Taking a small gulp, you briskly walk behind his desk where he sits, standing next to his pedes. You don't dare look up at him, half out of embarrassment for what's to come and half from the sheer nausea-inducing height difference from this angle.

"Now, instead of just standing there, why don't you come closer?" Sentinel scowls, returning to his assertive personality after faltering for a moment. He leans down with an outstretched servo, and before you can even blink, he literally scoops you up to his eyeline. God if you weren't having head spins before, you sure are now.

"Hey don't do that I'll-"

"Don't even say it, you freak me out enough." Sentinel lies through his dentae, but he pulls a one-eighty real quick when he flips you on your stomach with a finger, "Arch your back struts, that's an order."

Ohhh. You know exactly where this is going now. He wants to spank you into obedience. You weren't going to lie, Sentinel is definitely the type of mech to have this kind of kink. Though a bit tamer than you were expecting, the thought of getting spanked by Sentinel sends a shiver of arousal to your core.

So you obey, arching your back for him. He, surprisingly, helps you out by bending his middle digit so you can drape your upper body over it. He's got a full view, tight jeans showing off all your humanly curves.

Sentinel's breath hitches, he can't help but bask in the warmth of your soft, pliable body. How you just melt into his servo and bend so fluidly. But he's getting distracted. He'll let himself lose control later, for now, he'll try to maintain at least some of his dignity.

"Look at you, taking orders like a good organic," Sentinel taunts, using his other servo to trace down your back, "I half expected you to put up a fight; a bit disappointing actually."

You don't have the nerve to say anything, afraid that you'll say something you'll regret. Because it's only a matter of seconds before Sentinel notices the small wet patch seeping through your jeans.

"Not talking?" Sentinel teases again, trailing a digit to your ass, "I guess I'll just have to make you scream."

Sentinel wiggles his digit behind the waistband of your jeans, pulling them down to your knees. If he didn't notice how wet you were before, he most certainly does now. He groans at the sight of the foreign sticky fluid soaking through your underwear, his spike involuntarily pulses behind his panel. Oh, what he would give to bend you over his desk right now. But you're far too small for his length.

"If my knowledge of humans is correct, I would say that you like this." Sentinel runs his fingertip across your ass, "How pathetic."

Before you could open your mouth to actually give him a comeback, he strikes the fat of your ass with a flick of his digit. A simple move on his part, but it was enough force to send you forward and make you cry out.

"There's your first one," Sentinel soothes the area, rubbing the reddened area gently, "Let's see how much more you can take, trespasser."

He does it again with just as much force but on your other ass cheek, watching how the soft flesh jiggles. Though he's 'punishing' you, he watches your every move and listens out for your safe word, making sure he's not pushing you to your limit.

A gush of arousal seeps between your legs at the third slap, back arching outwards like a cat with each one in a kneejerk reaction. Tears start to prick at your eyes at the sting, but you don't bother wiping them away. You know Sentinel likes to see the reactions he gets out of you.

Nearly half an hour passes, and your ass is red-raw, jeans ripped off long ago, crumpled on the desk. You're like a trembling leaf in his servo, which now collects a small pool of your fluids in his palm. You never once complained or back-chatted, taking your punishment like a good little organic. Sentinel's spike slipped past his array a while ago, and now resorts to grinding against the desk in replacement for his hands being full.

"One more," Sentinel pants, hips softly grinding against the desk, "Be a good little human and take one more for me..."

"Sentinel, please..." You whimper out, prepping yourself for the next sting. It comes swiftly, causing a shaky cry from you. But you take it, letting the tears run down your face and onto the digit you rest heavily on.

"Good... very good," Sentinel groans, rewarding you with a few pats on your back, "You took that a lot better than expected, I suppose you deserve a little repayment."

You half expected him to slap you again, but he doesn't. Instead, he moves your underwear to the side and rubs the tip of his digit against your soaking slit. The relief of finally getting some stimulation to your numbed nervous system causes a rush of exhilaration, and you can't help but grind against his digit.

"Please... I've been good," You shiver as you feel him press past your folds, "I promise I won't snoop around on your ship again I swear- nghffh!"

"I've heard enough of your yapping," Sentinel pushes his digit the rest of the way inside you, growling at how hot and tight you feel, "All I wanna hear from you now is those little whimpers, you understand?"

"Mhm," You moan as he thrusts and curls inside you, wet squishy sounds accompanying your whimpers, "Yes, sir."

"Good little organic..." Sentinel pants, resuming his grinding against the desk, focusing on how your tight cunt eagerly swallows him up, "Primus, I bet you'd look so tiny on my spike, wouldn't you?"

"Yes sir," You're so fucking desperate to cum at this point, you start bouncing your ass on his finger, imagining it's his thick spike stretching and filling you out, "Fuck... nffnn-"

"Bet you'd be so warm too," He groans, close to finishing on his own, "Frag it-"

Sentinel cries out as he shoots thick ropes of transfuid across his desk, spike throbbing with yearning. Though trembling through his overload, his relentless thrusts of his digit buried inside you only hasten.

And before long, he's watching you cum hard around his finger, impaling yourself as much as you can on him. You cry, scream and jerk as you work yourself through it. Fluid drips from between your shaking thighs, running down your legs as you collapse on his hand.

Sentinel half-laughs half sighs in exhaustion, slipping his finger out and flopping back onto his chair. He lifts you back to his level, petting your limp form with a shaky servo, "Guess you're good for somethin' after all, human."

#tfa #tfa sentinel #tfa sentinel x reader #tfa x reader #transformers animated x reader #transformers x reader #valveplug #cyberrosewrites #kinktober 2023 #cyberroses kinktober 2023

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rocmxmstuff · 2 months ago

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NauseAxe_404 as a Parent Headcanons (NauseAxe_404 x Reader)

🐑 ♡ Well. Here we are again. What has happened. Why the baby fever ♡🐑

Part of a collection of imagines and scenarios for various Monster x Mediator characters.

Teen and Up Audiences, No Warnings, F/M, M/M, Other/M, Tag(s): Headcanons, Short, Fluff, Parenting, Jealousy, Ambiguous Gender Reader, POV Second Person

Find it on ao3 ♡ WC: 412

See what you've done @silva-daemonium.

♡ He’d be terrified to hold a baby. Especially yours. If for some reason he ended up with one in his hands, and there wasn’t anyone available nearby, you can expect the baby to be left on the floor with him sat nearby. They're just so small. What if he dropped them? It doesn't matter if you solve the problem by telling him he can have the child on his lap, he'll freak out and insist he'll hurt them. That doesn't mean he's not around though. He's always happy to help with anything else, and would enjoy being close to your child. Just not too close.

♡ As the child ages, however, he’s a perfect copy all those photos of fathers holding their kids up by the ankle like some sort of fish they’ve caught. Safety? Safety is for cowards who won't grow up with denser bone structure. Something along those lines. It’s not like your kid wouldn’t treat him like some sort of climbing frame either. The harnesses on his body would make him easy to scale.

♡ He would be get sucked into whatever game was being played to the point that it would seem like he was enjoying it more than your child. Roleplay? He’s pretending to be dead on the floor. Building? You’ve got a whole cardboard house in your room by the end of the day. Self defence? It’s not a game, but he’s definitely teaching your child how to take down other humans in case of an ‘emergency’.

♡ Jealousy would be a huge issue. He recognises that it’s normal for you to show affection to your child and vice versa. Yet that same affection puts him on edge. Likewise, he would be defensive of your things. Your typewriter - sacred, nobody else is allowed to touch that apart from you (and him too obviously he bought it, but it’s yours). It would take a lot of affection, and a lot of reassurance, and a lot of long, long talks before he even starts to challenge this behaviour himself. Even then, it would never fully go away.

♡ Despite this, he tries to make up for his faults. He would take to teaching your child things with surprising ease, going as far as learning new things so he can continue to share this knowledge. This knowledge might not be right, but he’s trying. In the end, he adores the kid and wants to see them happy.

#Ritual_Of_Cirice fanfiction #monster x mediator x reader #your biggest fan x reader #nauseaxe 404 x reader

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cld9writes · 1 year ago

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✩that tight little dress✩ - namjoon x reader kinktober #2

------------------------------------------------------------------------

day two - roleplay

reader! afab!reader, fem!reader

word count! 1.9k words

tags! roleplay, wall sex, unprotected sex (don't do that.), dirty talk, self-indulgent degradation

------------------------ *ੈ✩‧₊˚𖦹𖦹𖦹*ੈ✩‧₊˚------------------------

The man across the bar is staring at you like he’s starving. Deep, dark eyes slowly roaming over your body, lips pressed together in an attempt to keep from drooling. His finger strokes across the top of his thigh nervously. The deep red dress that hugs your figure is drawing him in, begging him to come over and flirt with you. Begging him to come over and take you back to his place. He wants to get to know every inch of your body, to rip that dress off and figure out who you are.

That’s the storyline, anyway.

You’ve decided to try something different with your boyfriend. You wouldn’t have guessed it when you started dating, but him being into roleplay made more sense as time went on. You’ve tried tons of different scenarios- college professor and his student dying for extra credit, massage therapist, royalty and their favorite suitor, forbidden lovers. But never pretending to be strangers. It seemed a little odd to him at first- why would you want to fuck a stranger when he’s right at home? But then you explained it to him-

You get the thrill and rush of feeling like you’re doing something naughty, something new. But you have the guaranteed safety net and emotional closeness of your pre-existing relationship. Once it became less about strangers and more about thrill-seeking, he was a hundred percent on board.

That’s what brought you to this dark nightclub. In your tight little dress, in your light little heels, with your tight little pussy aching to be stuffed full of cock. But you haven’t “met” him yet, so that’s entirely out of the question. At least let the man buy you a drink before he lets him take you home.

The tall man practically glides over to you, standing a stool away from you. He waits for your eyes to meet him before

“I know you probably don’t want to hear it from me, but you look stunning.” He opens. You smile, heart fluttering now that the scene has truly started. You giggle, trying to cover up the nerves.

“Thank you! I wanted to look nice tonight, but stunning is even better.”

“For tonight?” He wonders. “You have something special going on? I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“I’m supposed to meet up with some friends.” You shrug, as if these non-existent friends are more party buddies than true confidants. “But don’t worry about imposing- I'd Much rather talk with you. I’m Y/N. What’s your name?”

“Kim Namjoon.” He smiles, sitting in the barstool next to you. “You have a lovely name, Y/N.”

You two continue to play the scene out over drinks. It’s fun to pretend to be these alter egos. It’s not anything special, but seeing how different your dynamic could’ve been if you met differently, or were different people, is certainly interesting. It doesn’t take long before you’re both slightly sick of the acting, though, and want to get to a different kind of fun. Namjoon breaks the silence first and clears his throat.

“Are you still meeting with your friends?” He asks. You roll your eyes, drinking the rest of your whiskey.

“No, I’m not.” You say, completely indifferent. “Why?” Namjoon finishes his own drink before responding.

“I was wondering if you’d like to rest at my place. I’d hate for you to go home alone, and I’m sober enough to drive.”

“Why wouldn’t I just go back to mine? Make you drop me off?” You say indignantly. Something in his eyes shifts. They seem sharper, more direct. Your stomach clenches at the change.

“Because we both know what you really want,” He whispers, leaned in right next to your ear. “And I certainly can’t let you go home unsatisfied.” And that’s all it takes. Within minutes, you’ve paid the tab and left the bar.

He drives you back to “his” place, touching you the whole way. For just a moment, he dips his hand down between your legs. He doesn’t touch you, mind you, he wouldn’t dare risk fucking you in the back seat. But the closeness, the hovering, the heat of his fingers. It all makes you bite the inside of your cheek and clench your thighs together. He’s pleased with this reaction and places his hand back on top of your leg.

He barely manages to get you through the front door before his hand has fully slipped inside your dress. He thought about you while you were walking up the stairs, but he’s fed up now. He just wants to touch you, to feel how wet you are for him. His long fingers slide over the slick bottom of your panties and he relishes in just how soaked you are.

“This worked up over a man you just met.” He clicks his tongue disapprovingly. “Shameful little girl, aren’t you?”

“Don’t be such an a-ass.” You snap, trying your best not to stammer. He’s not making it easy. He slips your panties to the side and sticks a finger inside your soaked cunt, testing the waters. The way your walls ache to clench around it tells him you need more. Ever the gentleman, that’s exactly what he gives you.

He pulls you into a kiss, the taste of whiskey still strong on his tongue. You moan into the kiss, grinding your clit down against the rough palm of his hand. He follows suit, moving his hand in small, controlled circles as he finger-fucks you.

“I can’t wait to go to bed” He huffs. “Just let me fuck you right here.”

“I don’t know… what if you drop me?” You know he won’t. He’s fucked you up against the wall pleanty of times. But you wanna hear him assure you.

“I never would. Trust me, I’d have to be one stupid bastard to let you fall. You’ve trusted me this much, and I know you’re aching for some cock. Just trust me one more time.” He slips a hand under your thigh, stroking your soft skin as he awaits your okay.

“Fine.” You sigh. “Pick me up.”

Without hesitation, he does just that. He hoists you up against the wall, holding you in one arm and pressing the two of your bodies into the wall for added support. After miraculously removing his clothing from the waist down, he taps the sides of your thigh

You sling your legs over his hips, finally letting him support your weight. He teases your folds with the tip of his cock, fat head threatening to break you as it pushes in. You moan behind bitten lips, almost drowning out the growled “fuck” that slips out of the man before you.

His thick cock fits nearly perfectly within your plush pussy. Despite acting like you’ve never met, it’s clear your cunt has molded to his shape. It’s like he’s been designed to fill you up and hit all those spots every time. The perfect cock, all for you.

Namjoon kisses you again, pushing you further into the wall as he begins thrusting. Because of the curl in your stomach, he’s instantly rubbing up against your g-spot. He fucks you hard and slow, desperate to feel each moan of yours vibrate on his lips.

“You’re such a slut. He spits between kisses. “You let a man you’ve never met rawdog you in his entryway? What a shame…”

“I’m not a slu-” You attempt to protest. He chuckles and kisses you, swallowing your response.

He drops his hands down to your pussy, playing with your clit as he fucks you. The double stimulation is incredible, it’s got your mind going blank as he pushes you against the wall against and again. You’re probably going to have bruises on your shoulder blades but it doesn’t matter.

The sex is filthy. You can’t stop moaning, you can’t shut up. Your pussy is sopping wet, and each thrust fills the air with disgustingly lewd noises. Your creamy cunt is dripping everywhere, soaking his upper thighs and dripping out onto the floor. He’s teasing your clit like he isn’t pounding into your stomach, like you aren’t already about to cum. You’re babbling, going on and on about how good it feels and how happy you are it’s his cock filling you up. He tries to shut you up with kisses, but he’s getting drunk off your ramblings and can’t stop.

“You’re shameless…ngh- fuck!”

“Mhm! Mhm!” You nod desperately. You are. You’re clawing at the fabric of his shirt, desperate to get even closer. You want his dick in your stomach, in your throat. You want to be able to taste it from where it stands. Because his fingers and his cock have turned you into some kind of freak and you just want more of it.

“I’m g-gonna cum!” You pant. “Gonna cum s-soon~!” He speeds up a little bit, both his pelvis and fingers. You reach your climax, screaming in pleasure as you cream over his throbbing cock. He fucks you through your high, not giving a single shit about how sensitive you may be or how this may end for him.

Your legs shake and squeeze his sides as you ride out your orgasm, desperate for more and for it to be over at the same time. He’s still pounding into you relentlessly, and he grabs your jaw to make you look at him.

“You see how good that felt? See how good it feels to be a slut for me? You think anyone else could’ve given you that tonight? No one else would’ve bothered. But I took care of that cunt of yours. You got that?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Sir? Aren’t you ob- fucking hell- obedient-!” His hard persona is faltering, and you can tell it’s because he’s getting close to finishing himself. He can only take so much, but his hand falls right back to teasing your clit and swollen lips. He’s desperate for you to enjoy it for just as long as he does.

Your cumming has made it difficult for him, though. The extra warmth, softness, and tightness makes it feel like you’ve become a succubus, and he wants nothing more than to give his soul to you.

His thrusts are becoming erratic and sloppy. He’s chasing a high he’s far too close to, desperate to cum inside you. Desperate to defile that perfect cunt. His breathing is ragged and fast, he sounds like he’s been running for hours. And you still can’t get a single word out. You try. You try and you try. But the pounding of his cock and his fingers on your swollen clit make the words catch in your throat and come out and moans, curses or whines. Because all you can feel, all you’re aware of.

You two end up finishing at the same time. You reach a second orgasm, creaming all over his thick shaft. This is what finally does it for him, and he finishes inside of you. You feel your insides flood with hot, sticky cum as he leans against the wall to support your weight. His thighs are shaking against yours, and he’s trying to control his breathing. He swallows hard, trying to calm down before speaking.

“I’m so glad I met you.” He sighs, a smile tugging at his lips. He’s not acting anymore. This is much deeper, much more real. You smile, dropping your head in lieu of giving him a hug.

“I’m glad I met you, too.”

You come to an unspoken agreement to stay like that for just a second longer. Just until you can stand on your own again.

------------------------ *ੈ✩‧₊˚𖦹𖦹𖦹*ੈ✩‧₊˚------------------------

and that's day two. this one is a little more disjointed cuz i literally banged this out in under two hours. sorry about that. hope y'all enjoyed tho <3

------------------------ *ੈ✩‧₊˚𖦹𖦹𖦹*ੈ✩‧₊˚------------------------

#kinktober #kinktober 2023 #bts #bts smut #bts namjoon #kim namjoon #namjoon x reader #wall sex #smut #kpop #kpop smut #sorry this was rushed it's literally 11:08pm rn and i'm sick #roleplay

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hyunjinsbelovedamericano · 1 year ago

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Playing roblox with Skz

fluff

i keep on seeing this on my fyp

this idea just seems right to me

Bangchan

He's so old 😭,he would be a bit confused on how the controls work but then get used to it,you guys would play hide and seek and when he's the seeker he would pretend he's not then start chasing you.He would start laughing uncontrollably because of how much your screaming that's when you realise he's the seeker.When your the seeker you would show no mercy on him (as you should)

Lee know

He would 100% bully children on roblox,you can not tell me otherwise.I said this in my Dating skz headcanons pt2,he would bully the other members by accident and then pretend to know nothing about it.He would call their outfits ugly and he would 100% say "I don't speak tags"when someone tries to say something mean so they look like a fool and if someone says something like,"My dad is the owner if roblox",you guys would just burst into laughter

Changbin

He would play royal high,he would have girls come up to him and ask him to roleplay as his gf or something,he would obviously say no and walk away but they would follow him everywhere and try to convince him,what can i say he has game.You guys would have matching outfits in royal high,if you say no he tells you he'll trade you something but then never ends up doing it.He would do his daily log in,daily spin on the wheel gotta get those diamonds because how else would he look snacktastic

Hyunjin

he would play speed draw games,yk those games where you have to draw something and they guess what it is,or those games where you have to draw something and vote which one is the best.He would draw something good then people would say he's hacking and report him even though it does nothing😭.he would force you to vote for him and if you don't he would isolate himself from you for a few minutes

Han

Han would have some ugly avatar and think he's slaying,you just have to go along with it so he doesn't get hurt,everyone thinks he's a troll so when someone brings it up he would get all offended and be like"No,my avatar looks swag",He would play tycoons and obbys,he would be that person who goes into your tycoon and steals your speed coil and weapons then attack you with your own weapons.But when he leaves the tycoon they would put the lazer thing on so that he dies

Felix

he would lowkey have a cute avatar,he's the one who convinced Chan to get roblox.He would play those cooking games,he's just here for the fun.He would also play adopt me and get scammed all the time,someone would be like,"Trade me your Legendary,then i'll trade you back"then he does what they say then they leave the game,he would be so confused 😭,he would start crying in your shoulder because he lost his favourite pet

Seungmin

He would download it,not play it for like 5 months but then starts playing the games,he would play total roblox drama then leave the game until he get the character he wants,not realising he could just buy it.Once he finally,gets the character he wants he causes mayhem,he would win the marshmallow by completing the obbys but if he doesn't he would just say,"I'm seungmin from skz"some people won't believe him but then he'll go on live just to prove his point

Jeongin

he would play fashion famous,play by the rules for once(do you get it?)then get so aggravated when someone who didn't even follow the rule and just wore a big skirt wins,(me too tbh it's so annoying),he would tell you to vote him 5 stars and will watch you vote him five stars because if you don't he'll start complaining.He would try do the same thing and not follow the theme and just wear a big skirt but then lose.He would get frustrated and rage quit

#skz fluff #changbin x reader #hyunjin x reader #lee know x reader #felix x reader #stray kids fluff #seungmin x reader #jeongin x reader #han x reader #skz x y/n #bangchan x reader #bang chan x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids fanfiction #stray kids scenarios #stray kids imagines

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officialbruciewayne · 3 months ago

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❖ Rules ❖

General Rules

Don't control other people's characters - without explicit permission - such as making them say, do, think or feel things. This is called power playing. Don't do it.

Try not to use information in-character that you could only know from out-of-character. This is called meta-gaming and it makes it harder for people to trust you when writing.

Don't set the event on fire.

It is up to you to make sure your character wouldn't be dogpiled by Gotham's vigilantes, wear a disguise and play nice. Likewise, it is up to you to make sure you don't dogpile Gotham's rogues. If you see a rogue, no you didn't (or at least you pretended not to).

Social drama can be intense too - even when it's fictional! Try to warn for common triggers, but stay safe out there and take a break if you need to.

Ask permission to join in a thread if you're not sure. Sometimes people are doing their thing, and sometimes it's an open thing!

You don't need an invite to join in! Just sneak in!

General Mechanics

It's as easy as writing something - and twice as easy if you've got a friend who has an idea in mind.

If you're stuck for ideas, but want to get started, feel free to give @officialbruciewayne an ask letting him know you've arrived.

If you want, feel free to use the tag #waynegala - this also helps if people want to filter for this event!

Realistically, the space I've imagined up is limited, so maybe five or seven people are somehow simultaneously climbing the rock wall, or sneaky kissing in a bathroom that someone else is sobbing in -- just assume you don't cross paths unless you wanna, kay?

Please feel free to take your time and savor your threads - the event doesn't turn into a pumpkin on irl time. Roleplay until you finish a thread, or just get bored of it.

General Etiquette

Don't set the stage on fire, metaphorically or otherwise. This means don't get into fist fights, or set off explosives, or poison the food, or start shooting.

Big drama is big fun, but there's a lot of people here, and if you do something that prevents other people's from being able to roleplay in the space, you're being a jerk.

If someone is in a scene, feel free to ask if you can join in - but sometimes people have a plot cooking, so just settle in with popcorn!

And don't worry if you make mistakes in this area.

It takes awhile to get the hang of big group storytelling, and if we all treat each other with some grace, we can course-correct as we go!

#gala resource #waynegala

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 months ago

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Love Game 2

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your fiance suggests incorporating roleplay in the bedroom to keep the spark alive, but playing pretend turns out to be all too real.

Characters: Andy Barber, Lloyd Hansen

Note: another surprise double day.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You wake up alone. The night of reverie fogs in your mind. Touching, biting, slapping, choking, fucking... The kinkiness of it all has you tingling again yet you’re raw and sore from the overstimulation. Beneath the afterglow is something else. Doubt.

You agreed to it. You wanted it just as much as Andy. All you want is to keep him happy and this is what he likes. And you can’t say you didn’t enjoy the thrill of it. It was so unlike anything you’ve done before, especially with him. The whole scene was so out of character. It’s roleplay, it’s supposed to be, and yet it just feels off.

Again, it’s your first time. It’s going to be new and weird and wild, right? Will there be a next time?

You roll over, thighs grazing tenderly, and sit up. The cuffs are gone along with all other remnants aside from the tangled sheets and the shell of dried sweat over you. You feel grimy as you look down at your naked body, your lingerie crumpled up at the corner of the mattress. You barely remember when you passed out. It’s all just a blissed out blur.

You stand and stagger. Oh. Your mouth forms an O as you daintily touch your pelvis. You can feel the stretch still as your walls twitch. He was so rough, so deep inside you.

As you hobble into the bathroom, surprised by the gingerness in each step, you can’t help the flow of your thoughts. Is this what Andy will want from now on? Why? Were you not enough before? He’s always seemed content. At least with that part of your relationship.

The way he groans when you touch him, the way he begs and whines before he cums. It’s all so wonderful so why now? Why this?

You heard all his explanations but you just don’t know what to believe. Your innate insecurity can’t help but latch onto the worst suggestions. He wants someone else. He wants someone better. Then why did he ask you to marry him if you’re not what he wants?

Ugh. You lean on the counter and look your reflection in the face. You blow out through your lips and trail your hand up your stomach. There are bruises all along your torso and chest, your neck, even your thighs, maybe a few on your ass. You didn’t expect to like that sort of intensity so much.

You push away and limp to the shower. How do you act like nothing’s changed? Like it’s all back to normal. A naughty grin curves your lips. That’s kind of hot.

You step into the shower and take your time. You’re reluctant to wash away the filth only because you want to go back to the night before. You want to feel that electricity. You remember how peculiar it felt when he had his face between your legs and the way his hands moved so deftly. Why couldn’t he be like that before?

All those expectations restrain Andy. He must need to pretend to be someone else to let out his inner needs. It helped you too. For the first time last night, you shut your brain off and just felt the moment.

You bask in the steam but make yourself get out and face the day, letting the night fade behind you. You go through your usual routine, with all the creams and cosmetics Andy bought you. He was always certain to get you the best of the best.

You never even stepped foot in Sephora before him, but when he took you, he was certain to ask the associate the most important questions. The woman told you about each product and showed you how to use them, doing you up before you left. It took you a while to get a hang of it but now you feel naked without it all.

You put on a red camisole blouse and a white wrap skirt, along with a silver chain around your neck and your engagement ring in place. As you come downstairs, you can hear Andy’s voice. He’s on the phone as you enter the kitchen. He’s already dressed; a dark blue suit with a light blue shirt and matching tie.

You round the island to face him and he gives you that look. The one that says I’m busy. You turn and cautiously work at starting the morning right. You flip the kettle on and take the lid off the french press to wait for the boil. You scoop the grounds into the glass and turn to Andy as he wraps up his call.

He stares at you as he puts the phone screen down. His eyes flick up and down and his cheeks dimples. You smile and step up to the edge of the marble island.

“Last night was so fun,” you cheep.

His expression remains stony. Your cheeks loosen and you fix your face. Oh.

“Last night was last night,” he says.

“I... yeah, sorry, sir.”

“Sir?” he challenges.

“Honey,” you correct yourself. So, it is back to business as usual. You’re disappointed and a bit confused.

“You slept in,” he checks his watch.

“I’m sorry, I--” you pause and tilt your head, “it’s Saturday, where--”

“Emergency,” he says, “not like I want to be spending my weekend working but...” he looks up at the ceiling then decisively traces the room with his oceanic irises, “well, I gotta pay for all this, don’t I?”

You lower your eyes guiltily, “I can pick up some appointments, hon--”

“We’ve talked about this.”

“Erm, I know, but if we need money--”

“When are you giving notice?” He asks abruptly.

“They’re short right now, Andy, I can’t just--”

“Look at me when you talk to me,” he girds, “you know I don’t like it when you act like a child.”

Your eyes flick up and you pout, “I’m sorry, Andy. I just don’t want to let you down but I can’t let them down either.”

“You do nails, not rocket science,” he snips.

You do your best not to flinch. You should be so happy. Everyone at work tells you how jealous they are. You get to work whenever you want without having to worry about rent or expenses. Andy will help you out. He insists on it and when you said yes to the ring, that meant saying yes to his expectations.

“I’m not putting the wedding off,” he insists, “so you need to make up your mind soon. Sweetie, I don’t have the same time as you.”

“I’m sorry,” you gulp.

The kettle clicks as he stares at you. You wait for him to say it’s okay but he doesn’t. You turn and pour the water and place the lid on the press. You meekly glance over your shoulder and face him as you wait for the coffee to steep.

“You know what I expect. I don’t think it’s a hard ask at all. You take care of the house, I take care of you,” he taps his fingers on his phone case, “simple.”

The last word is sharp. It says a lot; it’s simple enough for you to understand. You can’t be mad at him. You did promise and you haven’t followed through.

“I’ll talk to Gina.”

“Good,” he looks at his watch again, “you can put my coffee in a travel mug. I gotta get my stuff together.”

“Right, yes, sir—honey,” you correct yourself, “I love you.”

He stands and his chest rises. He slowly lets out his breath, “love you too.”

He leaves you with the dulcet, almost flat proclamation. What happened? Was last night bad for him? Did you do something wrong? Maybe you liked it too much? Maybe you didn’t play the role well enough?

Oh, you don’t know. You love Andy so much and you only want to do what’s right but sometimes it seems like there is no right with him. You look at the clock, a few more minutes and you can pour the coffee. It has to be just perfect, like everything else. Not too weak or strong. Exactly as he prefers.

💕

You wile away the time on your own. It used to be that you longed for time off, to catch up on your favourite shows, to do your hobbies, but now, you have too much of it. You watched everything, you’re bored of crocheting and diamond art, and your focus is split into pieces. You’re restless and lost in the large empty house.

It makes you even more nervous about the future. You thought have a ring, having Andy, having a place to live, would make all a bit more stable. Nope. Now you’re terrified that every day is going to be as lonely and tedious.

You make yourself sit down with a bridal magazine. There is stuff to be done. You just like to procrastinate. It’s a habit you’ve yet to break since your college days. Those get further and further behind you yet you don’t feel any wiser.

Another point of envy you don’t quite understand. Marciana at the salon loves talking about the wedding, she has so many questions, and yet you don’t have the answers. She tells you all the time how she can’t wait to get married and do it all. You find it all a bit too much.

It’s not just flowers and a dress and the ring; it’s catering and music and guests and cutlery and too much! You asked Andy what he liked for wedding colours and he told you he didn’t care. He says it’s a woman’s thing to plan the wedding.

Gina said her mom helped her with her wedding. Well, you wish you had a mom to ask. The girls at work gave you some suggestions and tried to help but work always comes first. They’re your coworkers, not your friends after all.

You still haven’t even booked the dress appointment. You don’t have anyone to go with and you feel ridiculous going alone. Andy can’t come, even after you said you don’t care if he sees you. He says it’s tradition.

So you’re back to square one. You have an aunt who sends you a text now and again but not much else. The more you think of everything you don’t have and never had, the more you wonder how you ended up with Andy. He’s too good for you and you’re not the only one to think so.

You close the magazine and mope at the pretty model on the front in her veil. You’re not going to look like that. She’s smiling and happy and you’re just stressed. Maybe you could just go to the courthouse. That way you won’t have to stand in front of the empty pews on your side.

Before you can sink further into doom, the bell rings and you jolt up. Huh? You can’t remember the last time someone stopped by. In the early days, one of the neighbours stopped by to introduce herself and you noticed the other women across the street, watching from a porch. She never came back. You realised after they were trying to find fodder for their gossip.

You get up, worried it’s another nosy neighbour. The bell rings again at your reluctant pace and you speed up. You peek out the window beside the door and see a man bouncing on the balls of his feet. Maybe it’s a delivery.

You flip the lock and push down on the lever, inching the door open enough to see through. You give an uneasy smile. The man stills and shoves his hands in his pockets. He looks you up and down and you blink at the striking resemblance. His hair is different, shaved around the sides, longer on top, he wears a mustache instead of a beard, and he sports a short sleeved turtle-neck and cream-coloured pants. Despite all that, he reminds you of Andy.

“Uh, hello?” You stammer.

“Hey, darling,” he winks and pulls a hand free, putting it on the doorframe as he leans in, one foot hooked on the other, toe digging into the mat. “Is Andrew around?”

“Andrew? No,” you answer tentatively.

“Oh man, I don’t got the wrong place, do I?” He pushes himself straight and reaches into his back pocket. He pulls out his phone and squints, tapping on the screen.

“No, uh, no Andy’s not home,” you clear your throat, keeping your hand tight on the inner handle.

“Andy, right. He hates Andrew,” he scoffs, “I was thinking you might be too young so I wasn’t sure,” he snickers and shakes his head, “well, I got a delivery for the old man. Well, he put a name on it...”

He swipes on his phone and reads out your name. It can’t be a mistake. You feel a little less stressed now.

“Sure, that’s me,” you confirm.

“Great, wait one minute,” he holds up a finger.

You have no other choice but to do just that. He turns and bounces down the steps, jogging back up the walk of the perfectly trimmed lawn and vibrant garden planted inside the white picket. The man goes to a black cube van and opens the back doors. He shuts the door as he hugs a basket in his other arm.

You watch him dumbly as he returns to you and holds out the basket. You take it, surprised at the gesture. Andy can be sweet but this morning was rough. He seemed to be in a hall of a mood. Even after what you did the last night.

Maybe that was it? Maybe he freaked himself out. He had gotten pretty carried away. Well, this is as good an apology as you’ve ever got.

“Old man loves you,” the man purrs with a crooked smirk. His timbre strikes you as familiar, gravelly and gritty, as if you’ve heard it before. It’s almost as if you can feel his breath against your throat.

You look over the basket at him and smile, “uh, yeah, thanks, er...”

“Lloyd,” he answers, “I’m an old friend. I owed him a favour.”

“Well, it’s very sweet of you to bring this by,” you say.

“Ah, you know, I just do what I’m told,” he drawls. His gaze is close to a leer and makes you want to shiver.

“Yeah, well, um, thanks again, but I...” you glance over your shoulder.

“You got a wedding to plan, Mrs. Barber,” he spouts, “you must be a busy lady. Lucky at that.”

You face him again and wince, “yep...”

“You make sure you have some of that wine, sweetheart,” he points to the ribbon around the bottle’s neck, “you earned it.”

“Uh, oh, okay,” you shake your head, “that’s... kind.”

“And say hello to the old man for me. Remember, Lloyd,” he winks as he backs up, “have a good night, baby girl.”

He leaves and you stand with the basket, heavy in your arms as the rest of you sinks down too. You have a strange feeling about the unexpected delivery and that man especially. You feel as if you’ve met before. Maybe it’s that he reminds you of Andy.

Well, no use in overthinking that as well. You won’t complain for a surprise, especially one as nice as this.

#andy barber #lloyd hansen #dark andy barber #dark lloyd hansen #dark!andy barber #dark!lloyd hansen #andy barber x reader #lloyd hansen x reader #series #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #the gray man #defending jacob #au #love game

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blancheludis · 2 months ago

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Whumptober 2024 Day 10: "I can't think straight"

Fandom: Batman Characters: Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth Tags: Cuddle Pollen, Good Parent Bruce Wayne, Implied/Past Child Abuse, Implied/Past Prostitution, Family

Summary:

Jason knows what is going on. Someone slipped him a drug, the kind that leaves you awake and always wanting more, and set up a nice little roleplay fantasy with Robin and the fucking Batman. The thing is, he craves touch so badly, he cannot think of a way out. Too soon, they are in a car and it is too late to run.

(Only then Batman leaves all of his clothes on and does not demand anything of Jason. Maybe Jason does not know what is going on.)

- Jason, cuddle pollen and his family getting him through a hard time.

Jason is trying to be as still as humanly possible. Something is very wrong. Underneath his skin, his flesh buzzes, falling and rising in waves but continually insistent. Heat rolls through him, roaring at every touch, demanding more, hungry for something.

He has been drugged, that much is clear. His thoughts are sluggish and when he moves, his eyes have trouble following, turning every step into a stop-motion film with a lot of pictures missing.

He wishes suddenly, fervently, that his mother was still alive. She would know what to do, would be able to tell him whether to fight or to succumb. Because this, the hunger, is worrying.

Jason knows the kind of drugs that people slip into drinks to make others drowsy, pliant, knows the way limbs grow heavy and every pair of arms holding him upright is welcome. He knows that, afterwards, there is just enough memory left to feel ashamed.

This is different. If anything, he feels energized, ready to jump up and fly, ready to take something that is just out of reach, ready to be devoured by it.

He leans against a wall to steady himself, but the cold cement has him flinching back, too abrasive against his feverish skin. He needs something softer, warmer.

Jason breathes. He looks down at himself and sees red and green and - somebody put him into a Robin costume. He cannot think of a single reason for that to be a good thing.

"Robin," someone calls, voice low and gravelly.

Jason's brain might not be in top working condition, but he knows what he will find when he looks up. And, yes. Batman. Or a pretender. Someone with a very specific fantasy in mind.

Batman reaches out and clasps a hand on Jason's shoulder. Immediately, thousands of nerve endings fire and the heat soars. More, he thinks. Before he even knows what is happening, he is pressed against Batman's side, some animalistic instinct inside him purring with pleasure.

He knows what is going on. Someone slipped him a sex drug, the kind that leaves you awake and always wanting more, and set up a nice little roleplay fantasy with Robin and the fucking Batman. Jason screws his eyes shut. He is actually very glad that his mother is dead, because no one should witness this.

"We're leaving," Batman commands and the hand on Jason's shoulder tightens, if not painfully so.

Jason nods, because what else is he going to do? Some deal apparently went down, no matter whether he was present for it. He is at least seventy percent sure that he is here not willingly, but when has that ever fucking mattered?

The world spins around him. The only thing he can clearly focus on is the point of contact where his body is pressed against Batman, warmth and want constantly firing, making him want to curl in on himself and, overpoweringly, get so much closer.

They walk. Jason is distantly aware of his feet moving, one step after the other, and then they stop. A car is in front of them and Jason knows this part. He gets in, immediately grieving the loss of body contact.

Soon enough, Batman slips into the driver seat. Strange. This would be much easier with both of them on the backseat, which - ah, does not exist. The motor comes to life with a quiet hum, the vibration echoed by Jason's bones.

Oh. They are going somewhere else. Don't ever let them get you to a secondary location, someone once told him. Probably someone well-meaning but otherwise completely uneducated in how real life works.

"Robin," Batman says, his tone sharp. It has Jason sitting up straighter on instinct. "Are you all right?"

What a stupid question. He is drugged, does not know how he got here or where here even is. Or what kind of job he got offered for.

"Yes." See, he can be polite. He can play his fucking part.

Except - is he supposed to initiate? In the car? Or wait until they are wherever they are going?

He is cold and his skin screams, demanding some kind of contact, so that makes his decision easy. Leaning over, he very deliberately puts a hand on Batman's thigh, closer to the knee, so he does not appear too eager. The muscles underneath his palm tense, and not quite in an inviting way, but the warmth is overwhelming.

He shifts closer. "I can blow you right here," he offers, his hand already looking for a way to get into Batman's costume.

The car comes to a stop so abruptly that Jason would doubtlessly have crashed into the console if not for Batman's arm shooting out to hold him back, muscles like iron, not moving an inch. The part of Jason's brain concerned with survival, drug or not, notes down that this was not a good idea; no more offers for blowjobs before they reach their destination. By far the bigger part of him, however, simply purrs in pleasure at Batman's arm in grabbing distance. The logical next step is to try to curl around it, chasing the release of endorphins.

"Robin." Where, before, Batman was sharp, he is now brittle. "Jason?"

That is not good sign. Real names mean something is wrong. Obviously, there was some kind of script and Jason mucked it up. Usually, these things are not so complicated.

"Sorry," he mutters, face pressed against Batman's arm. "Was I supposed to wait?" If at all possible, the arm tenses even more. "I can make it good, though."

With firm movements, Batman pushes Jason back into his seat. When he makes to pull his arm away, a truly pitiful sound escapes Jason's throat, somewhere between a whimper and a sob. Batman freezes and then, mercifully, leaves his arm where it is. Jason does not hesitate even a moment to make the best of this situation and rearranges himself into the best snuggling position he can while in a car. It probably does not look very sexy, but he already offered the blowjob and even that is honestly more than irresponsible while driving.

The car starts moving again and Jason tries to see where they are, but the stop-motion thing is still going and his position does not offer the best view anyway. He will just have to trust that they will let him out again once the job is over. Or that post-drug Jason will find a way. He usually does.

---

Despite every lesson he ever learned, Jason falls asleep. The next thing he knows is that Batman is carrying him. The body armour is anything but comfortable but the drug apparently does not care much because Jason's skin is singing, soaking up warmth like this is his last opportunity to do so ever. Which he hopes it is not.

"We're almost there, Jason," Batman says in his low rumble, which warms something entirely different in Jason, some spot behind his sternum. "You'll be all right."

As long as they keep touching, yes, he definitely will be.

He can barely spare any thought for their surroundings, only that this very much does not look like a bedroom. The craving gets worse, however, so he does not care whether they end up on a bed or anywhere else as long as they finally get to it.

Then there is a couch, which Batman sets him down on, way too gentle for someone with that mass. When he withdraws, Jason does that whimper again, but it is only for a moment, then Batman sits down next to him, pulling Jason into his side. They are both still wearing too many clothes, but the buzzing inside Jason gets bad enough that he can barely hear himself think.

"What happened?" a different voice asks, appearing out of thin air for all that Jason knows.

He does not look up. If this is going to be a three-way thing with Batman and Nightwing, he does not want to know. Introducing panic into this scenario will not make anything better. He is not sure why else there would be a third person here. It might be the pimp who sold Jason. Might be someone with worse drugs to give to him.

"Some kind of drug or pollen," Batman says in his deep rumble. Jason notices the vibrations in his chest more than the actual voice. "I'll get a blood sample and see what we have on hand."

There is some rearranging Jason and a slight sting, but then Batman just holds him in this kind of side embrace for a minute, warm and solid, not demanding anything for now.

"Is he all right?" the other voice asks, sounding closer now.

"He cannot be left alone. He needs body contact."

Jason snorts at that, tries to muffle the sound against Batman's side. Body contact. This sounds like a line out of a very bad porn clip. Oh no, the poor kid is sick, he needs to be warmed up with body warmth while naked.

A sudden thought stills him. If this sounds like very bad lines in a script, it is entirely possible they are filming this. Even drugged out of his mind, Jason knows he would never agree to that. His life already is a shitshow, he does not need any more physical evidence for when he finally makes it out of there, out of Crime Alley, and into a better life.

He struggles - or tries to. His skin screams when he withdraws from Batman, distracting him enough that he does not notice that the other voice apparently does have a body and has sat down on Jason's other side. He freezes, tries to think. But the other person is not wearing body armour and he is so, so warm. Later - if there is a later - he will curse himself thoroughly, but right now there is nothing he can do as his body moves on autopilot, seeking out this new heat source.

The person hums. It does not vibrate as much as when Batman does it. "Cuddle pollen, then?"

There is a woosh of fabric and a black shadow moving at Jason's side. "We are not calling it that," Batman says, sounding ridiculous in his indignation.

"Master Dick seems to disagree."

Master Dick? Okay, okay. Definitely bad porn. Also worrying, because now there is a third john he has to worry about, even if he is apparently not here yet. Those are the worst anyway, always coming in when things are winding down, all hungry and still full of energy.

"Alfred."

Jason does not know what to think anymore. What kind of scene is that? Batman and Robin make sense. Master Dick might make sense but in a completely different scenario. And then someone named Alfred? Nobody has even removed their clothes yet. Nobody does any touching other than hugging.

"So, he is not in any immediate danger?" Alfred asks, shifting so Jason can fit more comfortably against his side.

"No. Stay with him," Batman orders. "I'll be back shortly."

And Batman leaves. What are they waiting for? Is the drug going to make Jason worse?

Jason looks up at the man holding him and is taken aback once again. He is old, wearing a suit, and looks down at Jason with unexpected softness.

"No offense, sir," Jason says, knowing better than to speak but unable to stop himself. Things are just too weird. "But I thought I was here for some Batman-Robin roleplay, not to fuck a random old guy."

Too bold, too crass. Alfred's face falls, and although he recovers quickly, the damage is done.

"We will have a talk about that once you're back to yourself, Master Jason. Nobody will touch you in that way, I promise you that."

Jason does not know this guy, does not know what is going on. Yet, he finds himself strangely soothed by the words, relaxing into Alfred's loose, fully-clothed hold.

---

He drifts off again, and then Batman is back. The sharp sting of the needle barely registers because all Jason's brain can concentrate on is Batman's big hand sprawled on his back, drawing circles that make fireworks go off in his brain.

"Now we just have to hold him." Batman says in his low rumble, growing tense when Jason shifts closer to him.

"No reason to sound so reluctant, Master Bruce," Alfred responds, still calm, still utterly non-threatening.

Batman makes a sound like he is choking. "You're not the one he offered to - offered sexual intercourse to, Alfred."

Alfred stills briefly, every muscle in his body going taut, belying his age. The moment passes. Alfred does not mention Jason's earlier slip of tongue. Maybe this is not porn, after all.

---

Jason wakes with a headache. He is still down in the cave, still wearing the Robin costume and - he is lying on a couch with Bruce? He stares at the strange scene with the nagging feeling that something is very wrong. That is until Alfred enters with a tray and three steaming mugs on it. Three. Meaning one is for himself. Meaning something is definitely wrong. He puts down the tray and pulls a chair closer. As he sits down, he notices that Jason is awake.

"Master Jason, are you feeling better?" Alfred greets him, the kind of intensity in his voice that is usually reserved for serious wounds or missions that went wrong in another way.

Jason does not feel wounded. Well, he is sore all over, but it feels like the kind of sore on gets during a fever not after a firefight.

"I'm fine," he says and attempts to sit up without jostling Bruce. Were they cuddling?

Bruce might be a worse sleeper than Jason, though, because he immediately stirs, going from asleep to alert in no time at all. The first thing he does is seek out Jason, looking him over and reaching for his shoulder as if to make sure he is really there.

"Everything all right?" Bruce asks, neatly slotting in to a pattern that leaves Jason only more concerned.

"What happened?" he asks, also looking down at himself now. Perhaps he missed something. No, all limbs accounted for, no body part in more pain than the others.

"You don't remember?" Bruce narrows his eyes, somehow looking uncomfortable now. "You were hit with some kind of pollen."

"Cuddle pollen," Alfred interjects helpfully, although he does not sound amused. Now that Jason thinks about it, neither of them look very happy.

Then the words hit, and Jason's memory returns with a vengeance not long after. The drug, the hunger, offering to - So, that was not a nightmare.

"Fuck," Jason says, with feeling.

"Language," Alfred scolds him immediately, although somewhat lacklustre, like he is trying to hold onto normalcy but manages only barely.

It is not funny, but Jason bursts out laughing anyway. He can admit to himself that it sounds slightly hysterical, and if he can hear it then Bruce and Alfred can, too, so he should really stop. He should really not make things worse. It is hardly going to get worse than him offering a blowjob to Batman, of course. He did not even do that the first time they met, when he thought Batman would make him disappear or, worse, put him in an orphanage.

"Jason?" Bruce asks, too gentle for the situation. Jason does not want gentle. He does not know what to do with gentle.

"I'm sorry," he says, not quite sure what he is apologizing for. There is too much to choose from.

"You have nothing to apologize for, dear boy," Alfred says. He does a better job at looking neutral than Bruce does, but Dick often jokes that Bruce's face was made only for scowling.

Jason straightens, withdrawing completely from Bruce. There is no way he can have this conversation while touching the only positive father figure he ever had in his life.

"If I remember correctly, I offered to f-" he clears his throat, tries again. "I offered to sleep with you."

Nobody denies it. Nobody offers something to explain the ugly truth away. In fact, Bruce does something worse.

He asks, "Why?"

Alfred shoots a glare at Bruce but does not say anything. Clearly, he does not approve the bluntness of the question but wants to know the answer nonetheless.

What a way to go, Jason thinks. How could he even answer this? How far back should he go? Why people from Crime Alley who are drugged jump to the worst conclusion available?

He shakes his head, exhausted already. "I mean, it all made sense at the time," he offers and really does not want to go further. He has to, though, judging on the blank look Alfred and Bruce share. He drops his gaze, stares at his own hands as he wills them to stay relaxed. "I couldn't remember I was Robin, but I wore the costume and then Batman took me to his car. I knew I was drugged. That's honestly the only scenario I could think of."

That was not the answer anybody wanted to hear, even though it is not the worst he could give.

"And you just went along with it?" Bruce asks, sounding hoarse.

Perhaps Jason should remind them that Alfred brought drinks. Instead, he keeps his eyes down, unwilling to see their reaction to any of his words.

"I mean, have you seen Batman?" he scoffs. He does not laugh. It is not a joke. "Not like I could fight him off, drugged or not."

Tension thickens the air. When Jason chances a glance, Bruce's face has hardened into Batman's, at once impassive and thunderous.

"So, you get dosed with an unknown substance and immediately think someone bought you for sex?" Bruce asks, voice deadly calm. And then again: "Why?"

Jason is very sure he is not the only one who fervently wishes they were not having this conversation. Yet, he is not brave enough to deny them answers. A part of him has always been waiting for Bruce to come to his senses and send him back to the streets. If he had had the full picture earlier, he might have never taken Jason in.

"You know where I'm from," he says trying for nonchalance but ending up desperate. "It's not exactly uncommon." Bruce knows that. They are fighting that every night.

Bruce inhales deeply, while Alfred is deadly silent. Jason does not dare to look up again.

"Has anything like that happened to you?" Bruce asks. His tone is not the one he uses for interrogations but also not the one for victims. Beyond anything else, Jason is glad for that.

Quietly, he says, "It happens every day, Bruce."

"That's not an answer."

As if Jason does not know that. Now, he does look up, fuelled by the hot, churning anger that helped him survive long, cold winter nights on Gotham's streets.

"Maybe I don't want to fucking answer," he snaps and cannot quite regret it.

Bruce opens his mouth, but Alfred gets there first. "Master Bruce, enough."

First, Jason is grateful for Alfred's intervention, but then he actually looks at him and sees the concern, the grief, and knows Alfred will not let this go either but simply disapproves with Bruce's interrogation methods.

"I'm not broken," he says, raising his voice to almost a yell. "I don't need to talk about this. It's over. I'm here now." Although perhaps not for very long. Who wants a ruined kid?

"Nobody said you're broken," Alfred says, just as stern with him as he was with Bruce.

"You don't need to mince your words. You think you need to pity the poor traumatized Crime Alley kid." Jason is on a run now. He has become complacent here, feeling secure in the Manor when the first thing he learned about life is to never, ever let himself feel completely safe. He snaps his eyes to Bruce, accusatory "Did you think I was stealing your tires for fun? That's loads better than standing on street corners. Doesn't pay as well, of course. But that's all you'll ever hear from me."

Bruce's face grows, if possible, even more blank, every little thing he might feel pushed so far down that not a hint of it shows. "I just need to know if -"

But Jason is done. "You need to know nothing. My blood tests were clean.” Feeling more than a little petty, he adds, “And I rescind the offer, I do not want to sleep with you anymore. Happy?"

Nobody is happy, but Jason cannot feel guilty about it. This is his life, and if he does not want to talk about it with a sanctimonious asshole like Bruce Wayne, who is living in his Manor above all the stink of the city, that is his right.

"Jason," Bruce snaps. Once again, Alfred comes to his rescue.

"Enough," he thunders, looking at both of them in turn before settling on Jason. "Master Jason, why don't you go up to your room and get a shower. I'll prepare breakfast."

For a moment, none of them moves, suspended in the thick tension, unwilling to cede the fight, although Jason is not quite clear what fight they are having exactly. Is it just Bruce wanting to know everything that is going on, as usual? Or does Jason really have to fear for his place here?

Finally, Bruce stands, not even glancing at Jason. "Thank you, Alfred."

---

The door to Jason's room opens, not long enough after they all left the cave. Jason wishes he could be alone with his racing thoughts a while longer, but, at the same time, he is glad someone interrupted them. They tend to end in a spiral and pull him mercilessly down.

"Master Jason, I'll put your breakfast on -" Alfred stops, noticing Jason on the windowsill.

Jason has not made it into the shower yet, has not even taken off his clothes. As soon as the door closed behind him, all energy went out of him, all fight. Bruce must think the worst of him, must wonder right now whether it was right to take Jason in. He cannot - he does not want to go back.

"It wasn't like that, Alfred," Jason says, small and quiet, still unwilling to talk about it but also knowing he cannot ignore it. If he can make Alfred see, then perhaps they can convince Bruce, perhaps Jason does not have to talk about it with him.

Alfred nods, but puts down the breakfast tray on Jason's table before coming closer. He silently gestures at the remaining room on the windowsill. Jason makes place for him gladly.

"Nobody is judging anyone here for what happened in their life," Alfred says once he is seated, looking at Jason without a trace of doubt in his expression. "Master Bruce is simply worried, but you don't have to talk about anything that you did or that was done to you ever. You can, if you need to, but we will not judge you either way."

Jason hums. He wants to believe Alfred, but he knows that Bruce never lets anything go. Except for, perhaps, talks about his feelings.

"Is he angry?" The words slip past Jason's lips without permission. He hates how he sounds, like a child left at a train station, wondering whether his parents will come back to him.

"No," Alfred responds immediately, leaving no room for argument. "Last night shook him. Us. But not because we're angry or because we think we have a right to know everything about you. We are worried, and we want to help."

Jason is silent for a long moment, wondering whether he could simply believe Alfred, whether that is something he is still capable of. Believing that some people are good and only want what is best for him.

"Do you want a hug, Master Jason?" Alfred then asks, open and gentle, utterly unafraid.

Jason tenses. "I'm not drugged anymore." There is no need to coddle him. No need to touch him after what he revealed.

"I know," Alfred says and shrugs like there is nothing more to it. "That is not why I asked."

"I'm not weak." What he means is that he does not want pity.

Alfred studies him, before saying, "Master Dick hugs people all the time. Do you think he is weak?" The worst thing is that he sounds so calm about it, like there is nothing wrong with making a false assumption.

Wordlessly, Jason shakes his head and watches as Alfred turns towards him and opens his arms, slow enough for Jason to protest if he wants to. He does not. Instead, he lets Alfred pull him into a hug. It is warm and soft and strong in all the right places. The pollen is gone, but Jason still feels the buzzing underneath his skin subside. He is safe. He is home.

"Thank you, Afred," he says, quiet enough that they can both pretend he said nothing.

Alfred, of course, does not. "Any time, my dear boy. Any time."

#whumptober2024 #no.10 #“I can't think straight”#batman #fic #implied past child abuse #implied past prostitution #jason todd #bruce wayne #family #my writing

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blackleatherjacketz · 2 years ago

Text

Point of No Return

Baron Helmut Zemo x Original Female Character

Summary: While preparing for a mission where she has to seduce their target, Zemo convinces her to show him how she plans on doing it.

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ Only!, Explicit Smut, Daniel Bruhl’s Magnetic Essence, Dubious Consent, Manipulation, Sugar Daddy Undertones, Soft Dom Zemo, Roleplay, Oral Sex (Male and Female Receiving), Vaginal Sex, Lingerie, Dresses, Tuxedos, Kissing, Face Holding, Teasing, Hair Pulling, Zemo’s Hands, Eye Contact, Classical Music References, Zemo Possibly Catching Feelings

Word Count: 3.7K

Tags: Thank you to @bullet-prooflove for helping me concoct this universe! @letsby @imadeadpoett @mrsmaxwelllord @genevievedarcygranger

Read more MARVEL stories!

“How does it fit?” He doesn’t bother to look at her as she walks into his room wearing the gown he had made especially for her, one he was certain would fit every curve and angle of her body. He takes care to glance over just as she looks away, pretending not to notice how the vibrant color of the cloth complements the olive tones in her skin, accented only by the raven locks that cascade down her shoulders.

“Well enough, I guess.” She lifts her arms up, defeated by the fact that her chromosomes drew her the short straw in the group tonight.

She had dressed up a handful of times before; weddings, parties and funerals all placing her in dresses of varying lengths throughout her lifetime, but none of them were quite like this. None of them had clung so tightly to her skin, restricted her movement or made her feel so incredibly vulnerable that she questioned her ability to carry out her skill set in the presence of her colleagues… and him.

The baron looks up at her as she slowly turns around in front of him, noticing that the zipper on the back of her dress is still only halfway up. “You’re not zipped all the way.”

“What?” She turns to each side to get a better view of the back of her dress, bending her arms backward in a failed attempt to get a grip on the elusive zipper, splaying her fingers out across the fabric.

“Here,” he presses his lips together and walks toward her, motioning for her to turn around, “Allow me.”

She walks over to the full sized mirror to get a better look at herself, making an effort to grab hold of her dress as if to show him that she can do it herself. She’ll be damned if she actually needs a man to help her to get into this thing, even if he is the one who paid for it. And the flat they’re currently staying in. And their mode of transportation. And all their meals. And everything else.

Damnit.

She huffs before letting go of the silky cloth, reluctantly letting him take his place behind her. Although she had thought about it a few times before, she had never let the baron get this close to her, heeding her partners’ warnings of his hidden agendas and dual nature. Even with the heels she has on he still towers over her, the top of her head barely meeting his eyeline as they both look straight forward into the mirror. It’s almost as if they’re posing for a formal portrait, a snapshot of this moment in time portraying them as an opulent couple who had been together for years, his hand finding a sudden familiarity on her lower back.

“It suits you,” he whispers into her ear, tracing his way down her shoulder blade with his opposite hand.

“Does it?” She keeps her eyes on their reflection in the mirror, hoping that her makeup is heavy enough to hide the flushing of her cheeks as his fingers send a shiver down her spine. She’s supposed to be getting into character, one who is single and ready to mingle with their target long enough for Sam and Bucky to get the information they need; not one who can’t get over the intoxicating scent of her benefactor’s cologne.

“You don’t think so?” He takes his time feathering his fingertips over her silken strap as it curves its way into the unfastened bodice. He follows it down the inner arch of her back, noticing the absence of black lace or any other delicate fabric underneath. “You’re not wearing the lingerie I set out for you.”

“It was too bulky, didn’t look right.” She pauses as he excites the skin on her lower back, sparking a hint of heat into her core. “It’s just been a while since I’ve worn a dress, is all,” she starts to explain herself, feeling his breath warm against her hairline as his lips brush the shell of her ear.

Good God, why does he have to be so fucking handsome?

“You should wear them more often.” He reaches the tiny metal zipper at the base of her spine and slowly pulls it upward before laying it down flush against the material of her bodice. “You’re a vision in red, but every piece of your costume serves a purpose, tells a part of the story.” He takes a breath, pausing before continuing on, “You’re going to have to do more than just look the part tonight.”

“I know that,” she says, more to herself than to him as she watches his hand smooth its way over her hip in the mirror. She holds her breath as he guides it up her belly, inhaling as it curves over her breast and touches the bare skin on her chest.

“Do you?” He reaches her chin with the pads of his fingers, turning her face away from the mirror. “You’re going to have to distract him.” He tilts her chin up so that she has no other choice but to look into the dark caramel of his eyes. “You’re going to have to seduce him.”

“I can do that.” Her sentence wavers as it leaves her lips, a pathetic whisper of a promise as he drags his fingers off of her face.

“Can you?” He lets go of her completely, taking a step back before turning on his heel. “Sam seems to have a lot of confidence in your abilities, but I have my doubts.”

“Really?” She watches him walk away from her, his musk still lingering on her skin as he casually makes his way over to the vanity. “Is that why you can’t stop touching me?” She does her best to sound level headed as she challenges him, her body already yearning for his touch. “Your doubts?”

“My attraction to you isn’t in question here.” He states the obvious so matter-of-factly that it takes her by surprise, keeping any rebuttal she may have prepared still in her throat. “Your ability to stand out from the dozens of other European socialites is. And we want him… need him to do more than just touch you.”

“I can’t apologize enough for being an American,” she puts her hands on her hips, still flustered by his flippancy, “But I can do a British accent if you want.”

“No.” He puts a hand up to stop her before letting it fall to his side. “I want you to be as believable as possible.”

“Okay, then I just won’t talk as much.” She takes a deep breath. “That usually works on men of any social class, they all love the sound of their own voice.”

“Is that so?” He scoffs, leaning his back against the vanity. “If you’re so confident in your skills, then why don’t you show me what you plan on doing.”

Her heart nearly stops as it’s beating, its last contraction a loud and heavy thump in her chest as she swallows the lump in her throat. If he wanted her so badly, then why didn’t he just keep touching her? Why didn’t he take the chance to kiss her when his lips were so close to her mouth only moments ago? Why pull away at all? Maybe he is just as manipulative as Sam had warned her about.

“Excuse me?” She checks, her eyebrows nearly disappearing into her hairline as his lips curl into a smirk.

He can’t be serious, can he?

He merely nods with a sound confidence that only the baron of Sokovia could have. “I’d like to see how you’re going to keep his attention. The lives of dozens of people depend on it.”

“Well,” she starts, eager to play his game. They have a few hours to kill before the party starts, and she can’t think of any better way to fill each passing minute than to get his hands back on her body. “I’ll walk by him and… I’ll give him the look.” She’s never really had to think through what she’s done in the past to get a man’s attention. It always just seemed to happen to her without her really trying.

“The look?” He stands up straight, tilting his head to get a better grasp of the idea.

“You know…” she turns to the side and glances at him, lashes batting with feigned desire. “The look.”

“And?”

“And?” She laughs, exacerbated. “And I’ll look away then wait for him to approach me.” She looks up to see an unamused look on his face, his brow furrowed in concentration. “I’ll laugh at his jokes, touch his arm, touch my neck, things like that.”

“And if he doesn’t have any jokes for you to laugh at? What then?” He raises his eyebrows scoldingly, his tone dripping with acid. “Julian isn’t nearly as kind or as generous as I am, and it’s imperative that you distract him tonight. We can’t count solely on the luck you’ve had with men in the past.”

“What makes you think I’ve had any luck in the past?” She decides to commit to the bit wholeheartedly now, wondering what it will take to bring that sensual side of the baron back out to play. She steps toward him in her heels, careful not to make too much noise in them as she corners him against the dresser.

“Women like you usually haven’t had to seduce anyone before.” He inhales as she gets closer, pressing his back against the vanity as the different colored liquids sway to and fro inside their delicate glass bottles.

“Women like me?” She smiles and touches the hem of his waistcoat, a timeless piece he undoubtedly kept in storage from a lifetime ago. “What do you know about women like me?” She slides her fingers up his chest, following the design of his tuxedo to the fastened collar of his dress shirt.

“I know enough.” His words barely blow a few stray strands of hair away from her face, their tone shaking just a little at the end.

“Really?” She stands up even higher on her tiptoes, the bottom of her heels leaving the ground as she smoothes her hand beneath his tuxedo jacket. “You seem so confident in your skills.” She uses his own line against him, whispering her taunt against his ear as she slides her hand up the base of his neck. “But your years behind bars would prove that you’re a little out of practice.” She smiles against his skin as his palms warm her waist.

“One would venture to say that it’s as easy as pedaling a bicycle.” His fingers find the zipper they spent so much time and effort pulling up just moments before, holding it delicately between his thumb and forefinger. “A muscle memory, if you will.” He tugs it slowly down her backside, loosening her bodice along with the straps around her shoulders.

“Well, I’ve always heard that practice makes perfect.” She presses her fingers into his hairline, forcing him to look down at her as she brings her other hand up to mirror its movements. She can smell his cologne even deeper at this proximity, his raging pulse enriching the notes of cedar wood and patchouli into her nostrils as she massages his scalp. It’s different than anything else she’s ever smelled before, a perfect signature scent for a man unlike anyone else she’s ever met before.

She continues to card her fingers through his hair as she gazes upon him, the chestnut hues in his irises making way for expanding pupils as they dart nervously over her features. She can feel his chest as it rises against hers, expanding with each prolonged inhalation as his heart beats wildly inside. He must be just as rapt as she is with the scent he dabbed onto her wrists earlier, a rich floral perfume with a hint of orange that is ‘fit for a queen’, if she remembers his words correctly. She presses her thumbs into his temples before sliding them down his cheeks to hold his face merely millimeters away from her own.

“Don’t you want to be perfect?” She parts her lips and feathers them over his, teasing the idea of a kiss that’s only just out of reach.

“More than anything.” He nods as he takes her in, his body giving him away as his nose gently nudges into hers. He opens his mouth and kisses her, tasting the savory combination of her lips and tongue as he slides his hands up the muscles of her exposed back. He pulls her in close, finally exhaling into her as he lets his guard down for the very first time in over a decade. He wants to relish every inch of her, to memorize how she feels as she trembles against him, but he must stay on track.

“Remove my jacket,” he tells her, smoothing his palms across her neck and shoulders before letting his arms fall to his side.

She nods and presses her hands over his chest, sliding her fingers beneath the thick black fabric of his coat. She takes her time sliding it off of his arms, carefully folding it in half before draping it over the back of the chair next to the bed.

“Now my tie.” His words are cold against the warmth of her cheek as she unfastens his off-white bow tie. “You’re doing well, darling, but I’m going to need you to look up at me with those eyes while you undress me.” He lifts her chin with a curled finger beneath it, holding himself back from tugging on her bottom lip with his thumb. “Let him know how badly you want it.” He tries to circle back to his original plan by taking his own needs and desires out of the situation, but it’s obvious that he’s already dipped his toe into the shoreline of the point of no return.

“Okay.” She finishes pulling his tie out of his collar, the fancy bow now reduced to a single flat piece of cloth as she makes quick work of unbuttoning his vest and shirt between intentional stolen glances.

With his clothes off he’s absolutely beautiful, his broad chest and trim figure nothing how she imagined it would be, but somehow that much more alluring to her. Dark hair scatters its way across his chest, mixing in with a constellation of moles down his belly and into his pants that seem to be growing tighter in between his thighs, proving the effectiveness of her skills.

“Now get out of that dress and onto the bed.” His order ties a knot into her stomach, the authoritative tone of his voice pulling on her muscles as his callous words do more for her libido than she cares to admit. She should probably unpack the origin of that gut reaction when she gets a chance, but there’s a time and place for all of that.

She turns around and unzips the rest of her gown, casually sliding it off her shoulders with ease as she steps out of her heels. She takes a moment to look back at him with her practiced stare, catching him with a hungry look in his eye as she follows his instructions. She only smirks before looking away again, stepping out of the gown and over to the king sized bed in her bare feet. She hears him undress his bottom half on his own, the sound of him undoing his belt buckle and pants zipper echoing loudly in this tiny little bedroom as she climbs up onto the freshly made bed.

She takes her time turning over onto her back, spreading her legs in full display as he finally approaches her, now just as naked as she is. All of the sudden he isn’t this manipulative mastermind who lied, cheated and killed his way to revenge. He isn’t an escaped felon, a criminal or an enemy of the state. He isn’t even a baron, her benefactor, or the one hope to get the information she needs for this mission.

He’s just a man.

She sits up and reaches out to him, wrapping her fingers around his wrist before bringing his hand to her breast. She waits for him to squeeze it before looking up at him just like he’s told her to, letting her eyes fill up with desire as he grows right in front of her face. “Still doubting my skills, Baron?” She chides, opening her mouth to lick his tip.

“No.” He takes a deep breath as she tastes him, slowly taking more of him into her mouth as her perfect lips wrap around his cock. “Not at all.” He runs his other hand through her hair, tucking it behind her ear as she opens the back of her throat to take him in completely. He lets his eyelids fall down as her lips reach his pelvis, tugging on her hair so that her tongue encases his shaft as she sucks her way back up. He guides her back down again, repeating the motion over and over as he nearly gets lost in how good her mouth feels as it glides over his throbbing member. He can’t get over how the warmth of her lips and the sensation of her tongue are far superior than that of his hand slick with spit in the cool recesses of his prison cell.

He also can’t get over the fact that he’s actually here, a conditionally free man who gets to enjoy a woman so utterly gorgeous as she does nearly anything that he asks…. a real, tangible woman. She looks so beautiful like this, eyes wide as she nearly chokes on his girth, saliva dripping down the corners of her mouth. He could finish like this in a matter of minutes if he wanted to, his hand in her hair as she swallows his release; leaving Sam and James none the wiser to their current activities, but he wants something more. He wants to know what she feels like from the inside, how the warmth of her cunt compares to the warmth of her mouth as her features contort with the pleasure he’s so ready to give her.

He pulls her off of him and loosens his grip on her hair, smoothing it out as he memorizes every curve of her face before leaning down to kiss her. He can feel himself walking straight into the depth of his desires, subconsciously crossing that line between motivation and need, between restraint and reckless abandon. At this point he doesn’t care what they’re supposed to be doing or how he’s supposed to be acting, all he can bring himself to care about is how he can taste himself on her lips as he presses his knees into the mattress.

He pushes her onto her back and climbs on top of her, kissing his way up her legs before tasting the moisture between her thighs, savoring the delicacy of her tangy flavor with muffled moans. He feels her fingers weave their way into his hair as she writhes beneath him, groaning as he laps her up until those groans increase in pitch, climbing up the octave scale one note at a time. It’s as if she’s singing her very own aria, telling the story of her pleasure to the centuries-old walls as he greedily dines on her flesh.

He grabs onto her wrists as the twitching of her hips becomes more sporadic, holding them down at her sides as that inner music moves its way through her. It steals her breath, turning that consistent vibrato in her lungs to a stifled staccato as her flavor grows sweeter beneath his tongue. It’s the most divine thing he’s ever heard in his life, each note sticking out in his memory forever as he kisses his way up her pelvis and chest, trying his best not to suck a few bruises into the delicate skin of her neck.

He releases his grip on her wrists, lifting her thighs around his waist as she nods for him to continue, pushing that staccato deep inside of her. He watches her mouth fall open as he stretches her out, leaning down to kiss her lips as he takes his turn adding his own groans to their proper duet. He takes advantage of the freedom of these walls, moaning into her as she envelops him with her velvety warmth, bringing him even closer to the brink.

He grabs onto her jaw as he rocks into her, gradually picking up the pace as their hearts provide the drum beat to their chaotic song of groans and grunts. He can’t help but bury his face in her shoulder to soften his fervor, tasting the salt of her skin as she reaches another octave while he pushes inside at a brand new angle.

“You feel so good,” she barely whispers, crossing her legs behind his back to keep him there. “Oh my God, Zemo!” She wraps her arms around his back in a similar fashion, pulling him in even closer as their steady collection of notes build upon each other, one right after the other with each rhythmic thrust of his hips until they both reach the height of their crescendo.

He cries out against her shoulder as the pleasure washes over him, releasing his bliss inside her walls in irregular spurts as he merges his body with hers, both of them vibrating in rhythm together. He kisses his way up her neck and jawline, still holding her face in his hand as he kisses her lips and cheeks. He pulls back, opening his mouth as if to say something mean or witty, to reinstate the power dynamics of their relationship, but the ecstasy wreaking havoc on his nervous system won’t let that happen. Instead he only kisses her again, soft and gentle as he rests his forehead against hers while he allows himself to forget everything that’s happened except for this very moment. He allows himself another scene of romance after their passionate duet, knowing full well that it can only last as long as it takes for the curtain to fall and the next act to begin.

#baron helmut zemo #helmut zemo x reader #helmut zemo smut #daniel brühl #Helmut Zemo #Helmut Zemo Fan Fiction #Daniel bruhl #the falcon and the winter soldier

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cantstoptheimagines · 8 months ago

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Interrogation Tactics (König | Call of Duty)

Summary — After König returns from deployment, the two of you indulge in some roleplay.

Warnings & Other Tags ➳ Smut (rough reunion sex between partners; interrogation roleplay (König pretends to be a dangerous stranger); oral (male receiving, brief female receiving, face fucking); penetration (vaginal, anal); cum is literally everywhere; spit kink; breeding kink; bondage and being tied up; lots of degradation (name-calling); slapping and spanking; slight housewife kink; brief usage of a blindfold; brief usage of a knife; brief discussion about safe words; tons of dirty talk; cursing; König speaks German a lot); I love masked men too much for my own good.

Notes ➳ Word count is 4,503. ➳ Reader uses feminine pronouns (she/her). ➳ Google Translate was used for the German in this work. You can find translations at the end. If you have any corrections, please let me know!

The darkness caused by the blindfold over your eyes left nothing but anxiety curling within your stomach. Your wrists ached from the tightly knot rope that held them firmly behind your back. Another was secured around your hips, keeping you pinned to the chair you had been forced to sit in.

You felt numb, unsure of how long you had been like this. The entire house had been silent for quite some time. Aside from the occasional sound of shuffling that came from downstairs, letting you know that you most certainly were not alone, of course.

The sound of heavy footsteps suddenly ascending to the second floor of your home made your muscles tense. The knob of your bedroom door rattled as it opened. Heart pounding in your chest, you whimpered fearfully upon hearing the lock click.

“Oh, no need for all that,” muttered a deep accent, the footsteps slowly growing closer. “I’m only here to have a chat. Answer my questions and then you can be free. If I’m feeling generous.”

“Please—! Ah!”

A large hand harshly grabbed your throat and tilted your head back. You could feel the piercing eyes of your assailant drilling into you, even with the blindfold obstructing your vision. Tears began to well up as you were left struggling to breathe.

A deep chuckle made your heart sink, “Tell me what you know about your husband’s mission. When will he return?”

You sputtered, voice cracking under his tight grip, “I don’t know. Please, I don’t know anything. He doesn’t tell me about his work.”

He grunted, unsatisfied with your answer. It was the same one you had given him when he had initially arrived.

“Liar,” he growled, hand moving up to squeeze your face. “Maybe I need to use other methods to get answers out of you.”

“What?” you whimpered. “What are you talking about?”

“You heard me,” he muttered, and you could almost envision an arrogant smirk on his face. “A good fucking should make you squeal. Besides, I haven’t been inside a pussy in so long. You’re lucky that you get to be the first to experience my cock after so many months. I always go hard after being out of commission for a long time.”

You felt a cold, sharp blade suddenly run over your skin. You tensed at the feeling. After swiftly cutting the rope around your hips, he ripped off the blindfold as well. Your tears blurred your vision, hardly letting you see the knife that he held up to your face as your eyes adjusted to the dark room.

“Now let’s get started,” he chuckled. “I’m gonna enjoy this.”

A pit grew in your stomach as you took in his appearance. He was ginormous, especially in height, dwarfing you in every way. He wore a dark uniform, though a lot of his gear has been taken and shoved into a corner of the room. His face was entirely covered by a mask, only allowing you to see his narrowed eyes.

He yanked you off the chair, setting his knife down in your place as he pushed you onto your knees. His eyes softened and your husband’s true nature broke through when you yelped at the sudden pain in your knees after they collided with the floor.

“We still got a safe word, Schatz?” he muttered, breaking his character as a cruel interrogator in order to caress your cheek. “It’s been so long, I can’t remember.”

“It’s ‘purple’,” you replied, nuzzling into his touch, wishing you could feel him properly.

König nodded, quietly admiring you for a moment, “You okay to keep going?”

Upon letting him know you were, he pinched your chin softly before sliding his hand back to your throat, “Good girl.”

He grinned beneath his mask when you let out a whine, each of you falling back into your chosen roles. He used his free hand to undo his pants.

Your eyes still sparkled with remnants of tears. He can’t help but roll his eyes. How did he ever end up with a weak thing like you?

König stuffed his hand inside his pants and pulled himself out. Similar to the rest of him, his cock was huge. It throbbed and twitched in his hand, swollen from being trapped within his tight briefs. It was completely hard and ready to be used however he desired.

Strengthening his grip on your throat, he tilted his head at you, “Machen Sie sich bereit zum Saugen.”

He pressed himself to your face, grinding his balls over your skin as he began stroking himself. Lining them up with your chin and flattening his cock against you, he laughed upon realizing he was long enough to exceed the length of your face.

“Can’t wait to make you swallow,” he muttered. “My cock is so big compared to you, you’re going to feel it all the way down your throat. C’mere!”

The hand around your neck moved to your face, forcing your mouth open. König wasted no time in slapping his leaking tip against your tongue. He smeared his precum over your lips. You whined fearfully when he then leaned down to lick it up, only to spit it into your mouth seconds later.

“Time to use that sweet, wet mouth of yours.”

You gagged around him, tears welling up once more, when he suddenly shoved his tip to the back of your throat. He grasped your head with his hands, harshly pressing down on your temples, to begin guiding your mouth on and off his thick length.

He quickly became soaked in more of your spit with every rough thrust. You audibly gagged and choked each time he sank into your mouth.

“Saugen!” he exclaimed, laughing as you attempted to free your wrists from their restraints behind your back. “Finish me with your mouth! Kleine Hure!”

His heavy balls slapped your chin with every movement. He almost couldn’t believe he had gone months without feeling you like this. He almost wanted to apologize for being so rough with you, only to remember that this was what you wanted.

You asked him to stay in his uniform and intimidate the living hell out of you while he took on the role of an enemy interrogator. You wanted to be tied up and used like you were nothing but flesh and pleasure for him.

And he wanted to fulfill those dreams of yours.

Eyes rolling back, he began to thrust even harder. The wet sounds of your mouth made his cock twitch.

“What would—? Ugh! Fuck!” he groaned. “What would your husband think of you? His precious housewife, desperate for attention, on your knees like a slut for a man you don’t even know?”

König felt sick whenever he thought about you while he was gone. He’d imagine you all alone as you took care of things at home, waiting for him to send his military payments. All so you could keep being the good housewife he wanted you to be since the two of you got married. You had earned this for being so patient.

His hands shoved your head down as far as it could go onto his cock. He sank deep into you, sighing when your nose met his pelvis. His hips circled in order to grind his balls against your skin, allowing him to listen to your gags and sputters as spit gathered at the corners of your mouth.

“Ah!” he moaned, and then another laugh escaped him. “Such a perfect hole, aren’t you, Maus? So good at choking on cock—! Ugh!”

He pulled you off, chuckling deeply, enjoying the sight of you. Covered in spit and sweat, gasping for any semblance of air, and fat tears rolling down your cheeks. You were so pretty.

“Please,” you panted with a sob, playing your role as a pathetic captive perfectly. “Please, I can’t take it anymore! Wait—!”

His cock forcefully shoving itself back into your mouth silenced your pleas. König glared through his mask, and scoffed, “Shut up! You’re fucking starved for attention, don’t deny it! How about this? Since you’re so hungry, you can eat up all my cum when I squirt it down your tight throat!”

He thrust in and out of your mouth at a lightning pace, balls slapping and bouncing off your face. There was no remorse in his eyes, only a dark glimmer of pleasure, as he used you for his personal desires.

“Fuck!” he exclaimed. “Fucking taking it, aren’t you? Look at that bulge in your throat. Never had a cock this big before, I bet.”

The sensation of his length suddenly aching and twitching sent shivers down his spine. The mushroom-shaped head collided with the back of your throat with every movement of his hips. It sank deep into you each time, leaving you to choke in its wake.

“Ugh! I’m gonna cum!” he huffed, quickly giving you a harsh slap to make you cry around him. "Eat my cum when I let go in your mouth, hungrige Schlampe! Your husband shouldn’t have left you alone with a throat like this! Ah, shit! It’s like a fucking glory hole — used before, but still good enough to cum inside!”

With one last thrust, he flooded your mouth with his thick, salty release. You were once forced against his pelvis. He held you there, grinning and moaning with every burst of cum that squirted down your throat. His heavy load left you with no option but to swallow around his length.

Pulling out, he stroked himself hard and fast, groaning loudly as you whimpered. König slapped his cock against your face. His length trembled in his grip from the overstimulation.

“Want some on that pretty face too,” gasped König. “Want you covered in it like you’re my personal cumslut—! Oh!”

He made himself cum again. Sighing, groaning, and cursing as he did so, he watched his second wave of release squirt onto your face. He doused your skin in a mess of white, creamy cum.

He smiled as he admired your dirty appearance. Rubbing cock against you to smear his cum, he listened to the way you gasped and sobbed, “Please! I told you I don’t know anything! You’ve done enough!”

“Oh, but Armer Liebling,” he cooed with a dark glimmer in his eyes, “I still haven’t used your pussy yet.”

He almost laughed upon seeing your eyes widen. Slapping his cock against your mouth and nose, he beamed down at your pathetic, stained expression.

“Up you get,” he said, pulling you up by the hair and grinning when you cried out in pain. “Time to let me fuck that cunt of yours. I’m sure it’s nice and tight.”

He dragged you down onto your bed. Hands still bound behind your back, it was pretty much impossible to fight back against his overwhelming strength as he shoved your face into the comforter before lifting your hips.

“Face down, ass up,” he muttered. “Genau wie eine Hure.”

You pleaded with him to rethink his actions as he removed any and all clothing from your lower half, “I’ll give you whatever you want! Money, anything! Just let me go! Please, don’t make me—! Mmph!”

He’d apparently gotten tired of your begging, deciding to lean down and shove your removed underwear into your mouth as a gag.

Listening to you cough around the fabric, he rolled his eyes, “Den Mund halten! Ich bin fertig mit diesem Spermaloch, das du Mund nennst!”

With the side of your face shoved into the bed, you could barely see what he was doing as he kneeled behind you. A loud slap resounded through the air, leaving you to yelp into your makeshift gag.

König palmed your ass before giving it a much harder slap. He continued his cruel actions, spanking you more and more harshly as he went on. He wanted it to bruise in order to leave you with a painful piece of evidence that he had used you for his own desires.

“Let’s take a look at this pussy, shall we?” he chuckled.

You tried your best to resist the way he spread you open from behind. He pinned down your struggling legs the moment you attempted to squirm out of his hold.

Another mean slap made your flesh ache. You squealed into your underwear, shaking your head in hopes he would release you.

Satisfied that he had stopped you from resisting, he spread you open again. Wider this time, of course, so he could show you that he planned on doing whatever he wanted.

He wasted no time in shoving two fingers deep into your pussy, which was wet with your slick. Muffled cries escaped your body as he pumped them in and out a few times before removing them.

He slipped them beneath his mask and placed them against his tongue, licking and sucking your taste off his fingers, “So eine köstliche Muschi. Vielleicht lasse ich dich gefesselt, damit ich es heute Abend zum Abendessen essen kann.”

He spread you even wider until he could see your asshole as well. He smirked to himself and, unbeknownst to you, decided to save that for later. He wanted to ruin your cunt first.

Lifting his mask just above his nose, he leaned down to spit onto your sweet pussy. After licking a long stripe over your entrance, he rubbed his nose against you, taking in your wet scent with a satisfied hum.

“Love the smell of eager pussy,” he muttered, kissing your leaking hole before rising to his knees. “Almost as much as I love the taste.”

He then took you by surprise. He shoved his hard, thick cock into you without warning. Your eyes widened, a new burst of tears pouring out, as he began thrusting in and out of your squelching entrance.

“Oh, yes! You’re as tight as I imagined! Strangle my cock with that perfect cunt!” he commanded, delivering another series of hard slaps to your swollen ass. “No wonder your husband married a pathetic brat like you! He knew how good your pussy is at getting fucked!”

His heavy, aching balls hit you with every thrust. He grunted and groaned with every movement of his hips. He even let out a strained laugh when your eyes rolled back in both pain and pleasure.

The underwear in your mouth was soaked in your spit, doing little to muffle to the shrieks, gasps, and cries that escaped you. Tied up and firmly held by the hips, you couldn’t do anything but take the large cock that was currently abusing your leaking pussy.

“You like that, Schatz? Huh? You like being pounded by my fat cock, don’t you?” he gasped, sweating heavily due to the growing heat underneath his mask. “You’ll like it even more when I breed this pussy over and over again. I’m gonna leave you as nothing but a destroyed hole for me to use in my spare time.”

You shrieked at the mention of him releasing his orgasm inside your body. You could only imagine how many times he’d fill you up if he got his way.

“That’s right,” he chuckled, leaning down and hunching over you in order to whisper into your ear. “I’m gonna come back every night from now on to fuck you raw and dump my load inside this tight hole. Imagine your husband finally coming back from deployment, only to find you captured and being pumped full of a stranger’s cum. Maybe he’ll be angry, or maybe he’ll want to join the fun. What do you think?”

You wriggled against him, shaking your head as more sobs wracked your body. A thick layer of sweat covered your skin. Your body was becoming numb from the pleasure that was growing between your legs.

König chuckled into your ear, still leaning over you, his chest flush against your back, both of which were still clothed.

Warm hands slid from your hips, traveling beneath your shirt to flatten themselves against your stomach. König rubbed one in a slow circle while nipping at your shoulders.

“Gonna put my baby right here,” he said. “Need to fill up your womb first, but best believe I’ll keep cumming inside this quivering pussy until you’re all nice and round with the result of my sperm.”

He grinned at the feeling of your entrance squeezing around his cock. He always knew you were secretly so fucking dirty.

“Oh! Get ready!” he moaned, beginning to rut into you at a faster pace. “I’m gonna cum! I’m cumming again! Wish everyone could watch you take my load! Yes! Ugh, what a perfect hole!”

He forced himself as deep as he could go within your sopping entrance. Trapped in his strong arms, your pussy was made to suck in every bit of cum he released. So much of it filled you in seemingly endless spurts that a creamy white ring formed at the base of König’s throbbing cock.

His warm, heavy balls were snugly pressed to your dripping hole, collecting every drop of wet slick that slipped out.

“Nimm es!” he groaned, hands sliding from your stomach to your breasts. “Nimm es, du dreckige Schlampe!”

He continued to rut into you until your body finally gave into the pleasure. König let out a loud, mocking laugh when he felt your overstimulated pussy gush around him.

“Dumb whore!” he scoffed. “You’ll cum on any cock that’s willing to screw your pathetic fuck hole, aren’t you?”

Releasing your breasts after a few more tight squeezes, he gently kissed your neck and muttered a few sweet words into your ear, true colors shining through for a short moment. He quickly rose back onto his knees to admire the mess you had made.

He slowly thrusted in and out of your body, grinning at the sweet squelching of your entrance as he did so. His pelvis and thighs were soaked in your fluids and your ass was already beginning to bruise from his rough treatment.

Much to his excitement, he could feel himself becoming hard again. Your torment wasn’t even close to being over.

“Here we go again,” he chuckled. “Next round, Schatz. It’s time for you to ride.”

With his strength and overwhelming size, it only took him mere seconds to move you into a new position. Lying back on the bed, he placed you on top of him, chest-to-chest, tucking your cum-slathered face into his concealed neck.

He briefly thought about how he probably needed to take off his mask soon. The heat and sweat beneath it was beginning to be too much. Right now though, he simply wanted to fuck your weeping pussy at least one more time.

One of his large hands splayed over the space between your shoulder blades. He pondered untying your hands, but decided having you entirely at his mercy was far more enjoyable. The other hand palmed at your ass. He groped, pinched, and slapped you, thoroughly pleased with your desperate squeals of pain.

“Let’s see how well you can bounce on my fat cock so you can take my cum again,” he chuckled. “Sluts like you are always good at riding. Probably fucking made for it.”

You whined and then made another failed attempt to escape his hold. He lined up with your entrance, slapping your wet slick with the head of his throbbing length. The underwear in your mouth was quickly removed in favor of seeing your expressions up close and personal.

“Ah! Wait!” you said. “You already came inside! I can’t take anymore! Let me go—! Oh! Ugh!”

König plunged into you with no remorse. Hands shifting to grope your ass, he forced you to bounce as he rutted deep into your quivering, overstimulated pussy.

Your mouth fell open with a silent scream. And König couldn’t stop himself from laughing darkly upon seeing your eyes roll back, lashes fluttering uncontrollably.

“Good pussy,” he grinned with a moan and a rough slap to your ass. “Gute verdammte Muschi.”

You gasped with every thrust, “Ah! Ah! Big! Ah! Too big! Ah! Can’t!”

“Nichts als eine weinende, schlampige Schlampe!” he huffed. “I’m making it fit, aren’t I? Stop complaining!”

He controlled your movements with his tight, bruising grip on your ass. He jerked up into you at an almost inhuman pace. His cock fit snugly within your wet, clenching walls.

He tugged up his mask and forced a kiss upon your crying mouth, still begging for him to give up the torment of your pussy, “Mein gehorsamer Schwanzärmel, ja? Mein Sperma-Dump, nicht wahr? Answer me!”

“I don’t—! Ah!” you tried your best to speak. “I don’t know what you’re saying—! Ah! Ah! Ah! Please, show down! Ah! I don’t understand! Ah! Ah!”

He grunted, “You don’t understand?! I want you to admit that you’re just a fleshlight for me to fuck and breed whenever I want! Say it!”

His cock twitched within you, signaling that he wouldn’t last much longer. Frustration flared in his chest when you simply cried in response, “No, I won’t—! Ah! Ah! Won’t say it!”

He glared, only barely satisfied whenever you yelped in response to him landing a cruel slap upon your ass.

“Fucking say it!” he demanded, continuing to punish you with his mean spanks. “Fucking say you’re mine! Sag es!”

He carried on pummeling your entrance and wreaking havoc upon your blistering ass. His cock hit your cervix and tears welled up in response. He grunted and hissed, wanting nothing more than to fill up your womb for a second time.

You finally conceded, almost unable to breathe, “Please! Hurts! Ah! I’m yours! Ah! Ah! Ah! Yours to fuck and—! Ah! And use! Please, too much!”

He slowed, smiling at your desperate expression. He grabbed the back of your neck with one hand and pushed your crying face into his mask. The fabric muffled your sounds.

He bounced you on his cock once, twice, three times more. Cum burst out in ropes, filling you deep, as König ran a hand along your back.

“So good. Your pussy is so good,” he muttered. “Makes me wonder if your ass is even better.”

You didn’t even have the strength to fight back as König changed your positions once again.

Lying on your sides, he pressed himself as close as he could from behind with your hands still tied around your back. He felt between the swollen cheeks of your ass with the head of his leaking cock until he found your tightest entrance.

“Still all right, Liebling?” he asked quietly, lifting his mask in order to leave a trail of open-mouthed kisses on the skin of your neck. “We can stop if you want. Did you mean it when you said it hurt?”

Your tired eyes glanced up at him, and then you whispered, “It did a little, but I’m okay. I like it when you’re rough with me, König. Keep going.”

“Let’s open up this puckered hole then, pretty thing,” he muttered, giving you another kiss as he fell back into character. “You wanna be left gaping? Huh?”

You whined at the feeling of his cock attempting to breach your ass. König finally squeezed his tip in after a few tries, groaning loudly.

You cried out as he pressed deeper and deeper, only to be silenced when he covered your wailing mouth with the palm of his hand. The other was used to lift your leg, spreading you enough for König to look down and watch his cock ease its way inside your tight, clenching hole.

“Disgusting slut,” he huffed, balls finally meeting the flesh between your shaking legs, “you like taking it up the ass? Such a shame I’m going to destroy this cock-hungry hole of yours. I might never be able to use it again after this, it’ll be so ruined.”

He pulled out to the tip before slamming all the way back in. You let out another cry into his palm, but that only made König grin beneath his mask as he did it again. Again. Again.

He continued thrusting deep into your trembling, worn out body. His movements were unlike how he had used your pussy, which had been fast and unwavering. This was slow and hard.

He stretched you open with every thrust of his throbbing, swollen cock. Everything was a mixture of both pain and pleasure.

You whimpered into his calloused palm each time his hips collided with your ass, “Mmph! Mmph! Mmph!”

“Good girl,” he muttered. “Such a tight set of holes. Here, let me get deeper.”

He let go of your leg and then rolled you onto your stomach. You couldn’t help but groan at the sudden loss of his cock in your ass.

He chuckled, hand still covering your mouth as he crawled on top of you, “Don’t worry, pussy. You won’t be empty for very long.”

You whined upon realizing that he had called you “pussy” rather than any of the other names he had been using all night. Being seen as nothing but a collection of holes for him to fill turned you on beyond belief.

“Not done with that tight ass quite yet,” he continued. “Still need to cum in it.”

He pressed himself flush against your back, forcing you to bear almost his entire weight. Your tied hands dug into his stomach the slightest bit. However, as König pushed himself back into your clenching asshole, he decided it was worth it.

“What a—! Ugh! What a perfect cum hole,” he huffed, finally continuing with his rough thrusts once he was shoved back inside. “Gonna fill you up again until you’re lying there with my load dripping out of your ass. Won’t be able to move, it’ll be so full.”

He sped up. Skin met skin at such a rapid pace that you could hardly breathe. You were being ground to dust by the combination of his thrusts and his muscular body.

You whimpered as König plunged in and out of your ass. His heavy balls bounced off your skin. He panted and moaned into your ear with every thrust, “Gonna cum again! Ugh! Ah! Think you can do it with me?”

You could barely even nod in response. You whined into his palm instead, which he took as confirmation that you were on the edge of your own orgasm.

“Do it,” he said. “Cum for me.”

In an instant, you gushed around his aching cock with a moan. He came as well, shooting a stream of creamy white cum into your ass.

He removed his mask, panting heavily against your skin. He groaned when he pulled out of you and eyed the way his cum dripped out of both your pussy and your ass.

He uncovered your mouth in order to listen to your quiet, relieved whimpers. He tried his best to layer your neck and shoulders in warm kisses as he began untying your wrists, only to find it difficult with his labored breathing.

“So happy to be home with you, Schatz,” he whispered instead.

German Translations, In Order of Appearance: ➳ “Schatz.” — “Darling.” ➳ “Machen Sie sich bereit zum Saugen.” — “Get ready to suck.” ➳ “Saugen!” — “Suck!” ➳ “Kleine Hure!” — “Little whore!” ➳ “Maus.” — “Mouse.” ➳ “Hungrige Schlampe!” — “Hungry slut!” ➳ “Armer Liebling.” — “Poor darling.” ➳ “Genau wie eine Hure.” — “Just like a whore.” ➳ “Den Mund halten! Ich bin fertig mit diesem Spermaloch, das du Mund nennst!” — “Shut up! I'm done with that cum hole you call a mouth!” ➳ “So eine köstliche Muschi. Vielleicht lasse ich dich gefesselt, damit ich es heute Abend zum Abendessen essen kann.” — “Such a delicious pussy. Maybe I'll leave you tied up so I can eat it for dinner tonight.” ➳ “Nimm es! Nimm es, du dreckige Schlampe!” — “Take it! Take it, you dirty bitch!” ➳ “Gute verdammte Muschi.” — “Good fucking pussy.” ➳ “Nichts als eine weinende, schlampige Schlampe!” — “Nothing but a crying, sloppy slut!” ➳ “Mein gehorsamer Schwanzärmel, ja? Mein Sperma-Dump, nicht wahr?” — “My obedient cock sleeve, yes? My cum dump, aren't you?” ➳ “Sag es!” — “Say it!” ➳ “Liebling.” — “Darling.”

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