#what is shame? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mickimomo · 1 year

Text

A Crack Ship Snippet

M'Baku × Everett × Namor

I have no idea how I feel about this cardboard ship I built, lol. I tend to be on the ship, and sometimes, I get off. Anyways. Like always. The discord boosted my head up, and I did it. 🫶🏾 Here's a picture of all of us. 🤣 nsfw-ish fanfic

It all started with a request to the bartender as Everett settled on the stool.

"Ah. Hey? Do you guys have any foreign liquors or-"

"Of course, the only white man in all of Wakanda would come up and ask for something foreign." The bartender scoffed.

"Well there's Bucky-"

"The White Wolf does not ask for something from abroad."

Ross opened his mouth for a moment before sighing. "I'm sorry. Do you have any suggestions or recommendations...?"

"You look like a fruity drink with an umbrella kind of guy."

"Ah-"

"Am I right?"

"Well- not fully. I do enjoy a Jameson on the rocks from time to time-"

"Oh manly. Such a manly man with his Irish whiskey." He scoffed.

"So you do have foreign liquor-?"

"You're in Wakanda! We are an advanced nation! Of course we have foreign liquor!" The man frowned. "But why would you come to Wakanda and order something you can get anywhere in the world instead of getting something you can only get here?"

"I- uh- I didn't think-"

"Oh, calm down, colonizer. I'll make you something nice." The bartender chuckled as he stopped polishing a shot glass and set it down in front of him. "Let's get some Wakandan vodka in you while I work on that, mm?"

"Sounds like a plan." He offered a small smile.

"Good." They poured him a shot. "This stuff right here is incredible. We call it the Heart of Wakanda."

Everett eyed the clear liquor. "Why?"

"It's made with the dead leaves of the heart-shaped herb."

"Is that safe for me to drink?"

"Yes. I'm not out here handing out mugs of absinthe." He chuckled. "Drink." He gestured to the glass.

Everett eyed the glass skeptically before picking it up and downing it.

It had a bitterness that rivaled cough syrup and black licorice, causing him to choke and nearly gag as it raced down his throat.

"Are you sure that isn't absinthe!?"

"I'm sure."

"That was awful." He groaned.

The bartender chuckled. "Don't worry. The next drink will be better."

"Ugh." He groaned as he wrinkled his nose in disgust. "Do you have any citrus slices? Preferably an orange?"

He was slid a tangerine and watched the bartender start working on his drink with a sigh.

This wasn't exactly what he had asked for, but it would do.

He grabbed the fruit up and began to pick at it, eager to cleanse his palette.

That is until a large hand smacked his back before sliding around to squeeze his shoulder.

"What are you doing over here by yourself, colonizer?"

Ross sighed when he recognized the Jabari king's voice moments after being hit with a wave of his cologne. "Hiding from you."

"Hiding from me?" He chuckled before pulling away to sit beside him. "You are one of the only two white men in Wakanda right now. You cannot hide from me without leaving the nation."

"Well, I'm a wanted man, so I can't leave."

"Then you cannot hide." He grinned.

"He could always come to Talokan."

They both turned to look at Namor, who had chosen to sit on the opposite side of the dazed American.

"You would let a colonizer into Talokan?"

"He is an ally. However, I would not hesitate to kill him if he caused any issues." He offered a warm smile to the Jabari king before looking down at Everett. "But you wouldn't give me a reason to need to kill you, right?"

Everett parted his lips in shock before refocusing on his tangerine. "No!" He frowned. "I have no idea why either of you are talking to me." He huffed as he began to pick at the fruit's skin. "I'm off the clock. There's no need to be near me."

"I can go wherever I wish. This is Wakanda." M'Baku nudged him. "If I wish to annoy you while you pout over a tangerine, I will."

"I am not pouting."

"Then why are you struggling to peel it?" Namor arched a brow as his eyes began to darken. "Do you have enslaved people to peel them for you?"

"Enslaved what-? No!" Everett panicked under the god king's gaze. "I'm just used to eating chopped fruit from the store. Where employees chop up the fruit and sell it or a business sells pre-chopped fruit... or processed fruit cups...and have you ever been to a grocery store?"

Namor shook his head slowly.

"I need to show you a picture of one or a video. They're really nice. I think you'd like it and-"

"-you're rambling."

His face burned in embarrassment. "Sorry."

The king turned his head before looking to the bartender. "Give me whatever you gave him." He pointed at the empty shot glass.

"Me too." M'Baku raised a hand as the bartender abandoned the cocktail shaker he was shaking.

Everett fumbled with the tangerine as the two men were served their shots of liquor.

M'Baku took it with ease and Namor took it with a low grunt.

Both were better than his suppressed retching and cries for citrus.

It was hard not to feel insecure when sitting between them.

They were attractive.

Big.

Strong.

Revered.

Wise.

And he was....

not.

The two big men watched him struggle in silence until he managed to break the skin of the fruit with his short, blunt nails. He peeled off the peel with skilled fingers before inspecting the naked fruit. He pulled a wedge from the veined sphere and popped it into his mouth before glancing up at the two kings.

They were both watching him intently.

He furrowed his eyebrows after swallowing. "Oh...uh...did you guys...want a slice?" He held another wedge up and glanced between them.

Namor grabbed his wrist and pulled it close before he ate it out of his hand.

Everett could only stare as the king chewed.

"What.... why did you do that...?"

Namor looked at him. "You offered it."

"To place it in your hand."

"It is not an offense to be fed. Is it?"

"Well no... but it's awkward."

M'Baku arched a brow. "You're just sharing food."

"Maybe I'm thinking too hard about it."

"Well feed me. I can make it awkward."

"No! Feed yourself."

"Come on. Don't tell me the little mouse is scared."

"I'm not scared."

"Then feed me."

"I will if you promise not to make it weird."

"Make it weird?"

"No moaning or anything strange."

"You have to earn my moans." M'Baku chuckled. "I do not moan for free."

"Good." Everett exhaled before grabbing another wedge and holding it out to the Jabari king. "Here."

He ate it out of his hand before inspecting his empty shot glass. "Mm. This really cuts the bitterness." He murmured.

"Yeah." Everett fed himself another wedge. "I originally wanted an orange, but a tangerine works pretty well." He fed Namor another before working on pulling another wedge free. "It's better than the cuties and halos I used to grab at the store."

"What are those?" Namor arched a brow as he watched Ross feed M'Baku another wedge.

"Genetically modified fruits. They have soft skin, so that it's easier to peel."

"Oh. Is that why you struggled?" He arched a brow before grabbing his hand to inspect his nails.

"Maybe."

"Your hands are very soft and scar-free." He furrowed his eyebrows as he trailed a thumb over his palm.

"Well, I'm not a warrior. I was a pilot before I became an agent." He shrugged. "We use guns. Not spears."

"Which is why you are weak and fragile."

"Well, if we had vibranium bullets. I think we'd give you a run for your money."

"And that is why I despise the surface world." Namor let go of his hand before asking the bartender for another shot.

"What? Because we don't use spears and fists?!"

"Because you are greedy and destructive."

"Says the man who wants to burn the surface world to ground-"

"-because you are greedy and destructive!"

"Well, riddle me this, what came first? The chicken or the egg!?" Ross frowned as he watched the bartender pour the king another shot.

"God."

"That wasn't an option!"

"But it is true."

Ross puffed his cheeks in frustration as the king downed the shot before taking his last tangerine wedge.

"You're difficult."

"And you're easy."

Ross rolled his eyes. "I don't know how you're drinking that stuff like it's water."

"I like it. It's different." He shrugged before looking at the glass. "I wonder how it's made."

"The Heart of Wakanda is made in the Temple of Bast." M'Baku offered.

"Really?"

"Yeah." M'Baku nodded. "It's made similarly to vodka, where you ferment a grain pulp. But, the dead leaves of the heart-shaped herb are incorporated during fermentation." He looked up to see Namor and Everett listening intently, slightly flustered by his own intellectual gushing. "My cousin oversees the process. That's why I know so much." He offered a small smile.

"Oni?" Everett tilted his head.

"Yeah." He smiled. "Production stopped after Killmonger burned all of our plants, and Oni was cast into exile. So, now that she is back and the plants are flourishing again, we have the Heart of Wakanda back."

"Literally and figuratively." Everett offered as he recalled just how important the vessel of Bast was to the people of Wakanda.

"Mhm." He nodded.

"Does each Tribe of Wakanda have their own special liquor?"

"Kind of." M'Baku smiled. "There are several liquors made here in Wakanda. We have plum wines, other fruit wines, and floral wines. Herbal vodkas." He wiggled his shot glass. "Creamy liquors, which come from the Jabari Lands. There's so much... I couldn't possibly list them all."

"Hm." Everett nodded before looking to the talokanil king. "What about Talokan?"

"We have a variety as well...some from our ancestors and newer ones we've had to cultivate in our new home." He offered a warm smile. "We have one made with fermented maize. One with kelp. And sweeter liquors made from cocoa, chilies, or fruit."

"Really?"

"Yes. We usually go for something thick with heat so that it keeps you warm. Talokan is cold because it is so far below." His eyes seemed to sparkle as he spoke of his kingdom. "But we wash it down with something sweet and creamy so that your mouth isn't burning from the chilies."

"Sounds good."

"I'll have to bring some liquor back next time. It is quite delicious."

"I'll have to bring something from the mountains as well."

Everett nodded before smiling as the bartender slid him three drinks.

"Alright." The man leaned against the counter. "I figured I'd treat you to a little drink tour, since no one's really given you a taste of Wakanda in terms of liquor." He pointed a finger at the first drink. "Here's a plum margarita. They're made with Wakandan grown plums that are gathered by the Temple of Bast. It's sweet, fruity, floral, and refreshing." He hummed before circling a finger over it. "Rimmed with salt and garnished with thyme." He moved his hovering finger over the second drink. "This drink is called the Melon Trifecta. It's named after a popular icee flavor sold here in Wakanda. It features three different melons by layering liquor-based slushies. I think you'll like it. It kinda looks like a rainbow sorbet. But three different melons." He huffed before pointing at the last drink. "This last one is called the First Sunrise of Wakanda. Basically centering around the first sunrise after Bashenga united Wakanda. It's got the Heart of Wakanda in it diluted with fruity syrups of different densities. Creating the perfect ombre." He clapped his hands together. "Enjoy."

"Thanks!" Everett smiled before looking at his drinks with glee. He grabbed the first drink, took a sip, and grinned. "Wow. That's good." He slid it to M'Baku. "Try it."

He took a sip before nodding in approval as he slid it to Namor. "I told you, the plums are phenomenal."

Namor nodded in agreement as he took a sip. "The salt keeps it from being too sweet."

"Yeah." Everett grinned before grabbing the second drink and taking a sip. "Ok. This is the best thing I've ever had in my entire life."

"We need to take you to the icee place in the market area then." M'Baku snorted.

"It doesn't taste like fake fruit or candy. It literally tastes like melons." The American gushed as he took another sip.

"Welcome to Wakanda."

Namor pulled the glass away once he managed to suck half of the drink away through a straw, ignoring the small man's pout.

The king took a sip before nodding and offering it to M'Baku.

He shook his head. "I don't really like melons. They taste like sweet cucumbers."

Everett chuckled. "They don't taste like sweet cucumbers."

"Yes, they do, and that's why I don't eat melons."

"Well, you could try it."

"And still hate it."

"It tastes good to me." He hummed as he plucked his cup from Namor's hand and took a sip.

"Well, let's see if it's better with you." M'Baku grabbed his jaw and pushed his tongue into his mouth.

His tongue was cool and tasted strongly of plums. A tangy sweetness that cut through the sweet and refreshing melon liquor that floated in his mouth.

Before he could swallow, M'Baku robbed him of his drink before breaking the kiss with a soft hum.

Namor caught the cup as he dropped it and took another sip as Ross slowly came back to his senses and smacked at the chuckling king.

"Wha- hey! You drank my drink out of my mouth- and then you kissed me!" His voice went up three octaves as he finished the sentence.

"Maybe I do like melons." He ignored him.

"What!? Wait- really?" He smiled. "See. I told you it was good."

"Mhm."

Namor grabbed him by the jaw. "I want to try it too."

"Huh-"

"Sip."

"What? No. I'm not a shot glass."

Namor sighed and put down the glass before crushing their lips together.

Ross was stunned.

How drunk were they!?

And why wasn't anyone saying anything about them making out at the bar!?

Was this the norm!?

His train of thought was broken as the king's tongue slipped into his mouth.

His face burned as he kissed back shyly.

This wasn't supposed to happen, but he didn't hate it.

The king was even allowing him to pull him closer.

His breath hitched as M'Baku pulled him back by his hair, ending their kiss with a sting that made him moan.

"Look at you." He huffed. "You can't reward him so quickly, Fish man. He must work for it."

Namor scoffed. "Fine. Let's finish these drinks then."

The Jabari king released the silver-haired man. "Alright."

Everett was so red, it wasn't even funny.

But, if they wanted to play.

He could play.

Everett gently plucked the melon trifecta cup from Namor's hand again before finishing the drink. Namor shook his head before watching him grab the third drink.

"Perhaps you should slow down." He offered.

"While sitting with you two? No thanks."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm tired of feeling tense." Everett groaned as he lifted the drink. "I'm trying to get as loose as fucking possible."

"If you wanted to relax, all you had to do was ask." M'Baku chuckled as he sipped on his abandoned plum margarita. "I wouldn't mind helping."

"I literally came to the bar to get away, and the two of you hunted me down anyways." He frowned. "This is as close to a getaway as I'm going to get."

Namor laughed softly. "I think I enjoy your honesty when you're drunk."

"I'm not drunk. I'm just a little buzzed."

"What's the difference?"

He twirled a finger in the air. "Shit isn't spinning yet."

Namor hid his smile behind his hand. "Yet."

"I wonder if that'll be too strong for you." M'Baku tilted his head as he examined the third drink. "Most people can't endure more than one shot worth of the Heart of Wakanda."

"Aj K'uk'ulkan did."

"I know you did not just try to compare yourself to the fish man."

"They call it liquid courage for a reason." He smiled. "I can take anything. Maybe I'm super powerful, too."

The two kings watched him take two gulps of the sunrise drink before he had to put his head down in defeat.

That drink had definitely humbled him.

He hadn't really paid it much mind before, but the room was definitely getting hotter the more he drank, and his vision was slowly becoming altered.

Was the world spinning now?

He peeked up before squeezing his eyes shut.

Fuck.

It was.

The room was sweltering hot, and everything kinda had a pinkish purple aura that sparkled too.

Well.

He peeked up again.

Only M'Baku and Namor sparkled.

And why were they staring at him like that?

Were they drunk or buzzed?

Or did they want another kiss?

Fuck.

Why did they look so handsome?

Handsome?

His mind was spinning and fuzzy, almost as if Cupid had stabbed him in the back when he wasn't looking.

Maybe cupid had, because why else would he want to crawl into M'Baku's lap and beg him to see if melons tasted gross if it was in his mouth again?

What other reason could have him eager to snog Namor?

"Oh fuck." He groaned as he felt pants grow tight at the idea.

He needed to calm down.

Maybe get out?

Touch some grass?

Feel the cold air outside of this crowded place.

M'Baku would probably entertain the idea for a good laugh, but Namor would definitely kill him if they went further than drunk kissing.

At the end of the day, he was just an advisor to the Wakandan council who specialized in American politics and the ploys of the outside world.

There could never be anything.

Not even an experimental fling.

His eyes stung with tears at the thought.

This was beginning to feel frustrating.

He was touch starved and in dire need of relief.

But no one would ever give it here.

Shit, he could hardly get anything back in the States since his divorce.

"Damn it." He mumbled as a few tears fell down his face.

"Are you crying?" Namor blinked at the white man.

"No." Everett hid his face as the god king tried to catch a peek.

"So you're an emotional drunk?" M'Baku chuckled.

"No."

"Then why are you crying?"

"I doon't want to taaalk abouut it." He huffed.

"That acted faster on you than I thought it would." The Jabari king rubbed his back before finishing off the margarita. "Hang in there, little mouse."

"Fuck you. I'm perfectly fine."

"Don't be rude. You are sitting amongst kings." Namor yanked his head up by his hair. "Even if you're drunk, you should act respectfully."

The sting up his hair being pulled was delightful, pulling a soft moan from his lips before he smacked away his hand.

"Don't touch me."

"You moaned." He stated as he looked him over.

"Yeah. Well. Everything looks pink and sparkly, and I'm a little buzzed." Ross huffed. "So, it didn't mean anything. Just like those tipsy ass kisses."

"I told you." M'Baku chuckled. "You're a little mouse. You can't hold liquor well."

"I caaaaannnn." He huffed as he tried to fix his hair. "Wakandan liquor is strooong, but at least I'm nooot nauseous."

"Your face is all pink." Namor pointed out. "And your words are starting to slur. I wasn't aware you had such a filthy mouth."

"It's always beeeeeen filthy. I just keeeeeep it clean around you because you're scary and yoooou can't take a fucking joke."

M'Baku laughed. "He's not wrong."

"He's not wrong until I'm dragging his drunk ass out of here and putting his mouth to use."

"I'm just a little buzzed." He groaned as the god king grabbed his jaw and looked him over. "Stop saaaaying I'm drunk."

"What's my name, little mouse?"

"Aj K'-" Everett didn't get past the first K without his tongue struggling to form the rest of the sounds to complete it.

Fuck.

Why was the Heart of Wakanda so strong?

And why was K'uk'ulkan touching him again?

"Stop fucking touching me, damn it."

He smacked the king's touch away with a frown before shivering under his darkening gaze.

That shiver made Namor chuckle as he got up and downed the rest of his sunrise drink before licking his lips. "Let's take you out for some fresh air."

"Noooooo. I'm fine. Seeee?"

Everett got up, and Everett fell down with a hard thud.

M'Baku couldn't refrain from laughing as he got up and scooped the drunk man off the floor. "You are not fine."

"I'm fiiiiine. Put me down, you big beefy bitch."

"Oh, that mouth of yours is more fun than I realized." M'Baku smacked his ass as he began to carry the tipsy man out of the establishment with Namor not too far behind.

"It bites too."

Namor laughed. "Good."

And Scene!

So, that's kinda what I've been imagining. But it could definitely become more explicit... if I wrote more. What are y'all thinking?!? Is this deserving of more?!? or...? 👀

#namor x ross x m'baku #namor x everett x m'baku #m'baku #namor #everett ross #crack ship #what is shame?#tipsy #you big beefy bitch #he curses like sailor while drunk even though he's a pilot #oni daughter of zuri #black panther oc #the sun and the sky au #is this flirting or chaos

26 notes · View notes

tawnfawn · 4 months

Text

intoxicated | könig

summary: you get along with everyone on your team, except for könig. you think he hates you, but his perceived distaste for you only makes you want him more. you're able to keep your composure until you're partnered up for a mission, where everything seems to go wrong...

tags: könig x fem!reader smut. cod. pure filthy, shameless smut. sex pollen. proofread. MDNI. 5,000+ words

cw: dubcon (due to sex pollen but there's clear consent before and after). unprotected sex (reader IS on birth control, wrap it before you tap it), p in v, oral m!receiving, fingering, accidental drug use (sex pollen), dom!könig and sub!reader, light humiliation kink, heavy praise, size kink if you squint, overstimulation, mutual pining, violence, killing.

MDNI. NSFW BELOW THE CUT

You crept around the corner of the warehouse with your rifle, watching König’s six as you progressed. The other KorTac members were stationed on site as well, giving quick updates through comms as you progressed. Details were scarce, except that in the warehouse, a Russian terrorist group was producing a bioweapon capable of mass destruction—and anyone inside was KOS.

Of course, the bioweapon in question was…dubious, to say the least. A strong aphrodisiac, the contractor had explained, much to the astonishment of your team. During the briefing, you’d managed to keep a straight face, but not all of your teammates were as courteous.

“So let me get this straight—you want us to risk our lives for…Viagra?” Horangi had questioned, exasperated. Your lips pursed at his crudeness, but it was exactly what you were thinking too.

The scientist’s face flushed. “N-no, this is much different,” he snapped. As one of the architects of the bioweapon, he was clearly offended. “It is much, much stronger. Exposure to just one dose will cause severe arousal: heart palpitations, excessive sweating, overheating. Imagine…” He seemed to be struggling to find the words. “Imagine a brain overload, yes? Rational thinking…disappears. Victims may lose all motor control. Too long without treatment can result in heart failure, aneurysms, seizures, stroke, and sometimes death.”

“So what is the treatment?” you interrupted, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Sex,” the scientist answered, shifting uncomfortably on his heels. “It was designed to be, ah… difficult.”

Your jaw clenched, and your eyes darted to König. He was staring down the scientist, narrowed eyes betraying no emotion. While everyone else struggled to keep their bafflement hidden, his sniper hood obscured any hope of reading him. Just my fucking luck, you thought when you were partnered with him.

It wasn’t that you disliked König; it was just that you found it so much more difficult to talk to him. With the rest of your teammates, you were fine. A natural people reader, you were comfortable with the rest of them, relying on body language and the details they let slip to learn more about them. In fact, you considered yourself to be pretty close with them—unsurprising, given that in your line of work, your life rested in their hands and vice versa. But König was… different. You didn’t distrust him, per say, but outside of the battlefield, he was quiet. Reclusive. No matter how many times you’d tried to get him to open up, he barely interacted with you, despite talking to the others. You’d chalked it down to being the newest on the team at first, but now that you’d served over a year and a half together, you were frustrated. Shouldn’t that be well enough time to open up at least a little bit?

You knew your thinking was illogical. Your job was to hunt targets and invade bases, not deep dive into your coworker’s soul, but you couldn’t help the way it took over your mind. Your need to understand him had become a bit of an obsession. You constantly found yourself looking at him, trying to discern any emotion his eyes betrayed. You listened intently for any of his input in person or on comms, no matter how menial it was. You studied his body language, taken note of any habits or gestures. You’d even memorized the way he reloaded his guns.

It was…embarrassing, to say the least. But could you blame yourself? He was so tall and strong and imposing that even just standing next to him made you, a normally very confident and intimidating woman, feel small. Such was the reason that you pushed yourself extra harder whenever you were paired up with him, making sure he knew you were valuable, a force to be reckoned with. Your excellent performance had made you two quite the duo, often clearing out legions of enemies in mere minutes. And you had to admit, seeing him absolutely obliterate enemy lines made you feel some type of way…

But not like that, of course. You were just…curious. When he finally opened up to you (and not if, but when), your obsession would stop, and everything would be fine. At least, that’s what you told yourself.

Today, however, there were a lot less enemies than you’d expected. Sure, there were quite a few soldiers stationed around the warehouse (which your team had incapacitated quickly), but inside, save for some scientists and the occasional guard, it was eerily empty and quiet.

“It’s fucking cold,” Horangi’s voice rang out from your radio. You sighed and brought the device to your lips.

“It’s fucking Russia,” you stated. “What did you think it’d be? Beachy?”

König’s quiet chuckle sounded from in front of you, and you couldn’t help the pride that swarmed in your heart. Heat burst in your cheeks, but you tried to brush it off.

“Fuck off,” Horangi replied. “East side clear.”

“West unknown,” you said. “Standby.” You tucked the radio back into your pocket, following your teammate.

You both peeked around the corner to the last room. It was filled to the brim with lab equipment—beakers, bunsen burners, flasks, microscopes—all sitting atop of large resin tables. Bright, fluorescent lights bounced off the sterile grey walls and ceiling, creating a dull glare that was almost depressing. Neat racks of tightly sealed vials and test tubes peeked through glass cabinets on the walls, parallel to the large sinks below. Across the room was a row of unfamiliar-looking equipment, and next to that, an enormous whiteboard boasting messily scrawled notes, diagrams, and equations. A bag of what looked like takeout sat on a nearby desk next to a crumpled napkin and a perspiring styrofoam cup. It was almost exactly what you’d imagined a stereotypical laboratory to look like, albeit a bit messier and more lived in. A singular man stood working at one of the tables, frantically scribbling on a notepad with his back facing toward you. König motioned for you to stay put as he crept forward. You complied.

Then the man dropped his pen.

“Xyй,” he cursed and turned around to pick it up. Of course, when he turned around, he saw König’s gigantic form pointing a gun at him, and he screamed. You fired your suppressed pistol, but not before the scientist hurled a glass vial at König. It shattered against his tactical vest as the dead scientist crumpled to the ground, releasing a burst of lavender-colored smoke that curled into the air and quickly dissipated.

König ripped off his tactical vest, coughing violently, but it was too late—the substance had already entered his lungs, likely reaching his bloodstream by now. He stared at you, blue eyes wide with—for the first time you’d ever seen—fear.

“Oh, fuck,” he muttered, and he staggered to the wall, crashing down to the floor.

“König?” You stared at him, stricken. His eyes were closed, and he was stock still—stiller than you’d ever seen him—and for a long, hard moment, you thought he might be dead.

Then his eyes snapped open. His pupils were dilated and blown, a sea of black barely tinged by blue irises. He stared at you, unmoving, before letting out a groan and bringing his hand over his face.

“Oh, fuck,” you whispered. You grabbed your radio. “M-man down!” you stammered into it. “König’s been exposed. West side clear. Requesting med evac in thirty minutes. Going dark.” You turned it off, not bothering to listen to any input. The rest of your team knew what this meant. As did you.

In the time you’d been on the radio, König had torn off all of his other gear, leaving himself in just his shirt, pants, and boots. He was panting, his chest heaving with each breath, ungloved hand still hiding his masked face as he cursed in German.

You crossed the room in seconds and kneeled at his side. “Hey, it’s gonna be okay, König, just breathe—”

“No,” he breathed. His voice was deeper, raspier than normal, and the unbridled heat in it sent a shiver down your spine. His hands were clenched into fists, body tensed as he fought the invisible infection. “Go. Now.”

“You know I can’t leave—”

His hand fell to his side, letting his eyes meeting yours for a split second. “Please,” he groaned, starting to tremble as you drew closer. “I—I can’t—”

His gaze strayed lower, and you followed it to the growing bulge in his pants. You gulped, unmoving, and he grabbed your arm. The force of it was enough to make you still.

“Go,” he insisted, his accent even thicker than usual. “I’m not—I cannot control myself.”

“I’m not gonna leave you here!” you argued, swatting his hand away. “You’re my teammate. You could die.”

“I will hurt you,” he retorted. All the muscles in his body were tensed, clearly on overdrive. Even his eyes were watering. “Please, maus. I am not gentle.”

Something inside about his statement made your thighs clench together, but you tried to ignore it. Tentatively, you brought your hand to his chin, pulling his face towards you. His skin was feverish, and your heart twisted in sympathy. “Let me help you,” you pleaded, and he inhaled sharply.

“It feels like I’m burning,” he hissed, and you frowned. His black compression shirt was nearly soaked with sweat, and you grabbed the fabric, pulling it up. He pawed at your arm weakly, but you shushed him.

“You’re overheating. Take it off,” you ordered, and finally, he let you pull it over his head, sagging back against the wall as you threw it to the side.

You’d seen him without a shirt before—it was hard not to with this kind of job, what with donning injuries all the time—but this was different. His head was thrown back as he panted, toned chest heaving with each breath, and you could see all of the muscles in his chiseled abdomen clenched, glistening with a thin sheen of sweat. It was… erotic. Just looking at him made you feel dirty. You felt the thrum of something other than worry in your abdomen, and you swallowed.

“Leave me,” König growled, but it sounded more desperate than commanding. You shook your head at him.

“Not letting you die, König.” You began to rip off your gear, tugging off your tactical vest and discarding your weapons.

König grabbed your wrist. “What are you…?”

“Wanna help you, okay?” you said softly, trying to catch his eyes as they darted over your face. “Are you gonna let me?”

He took in a deep breath, his other hand in a death grip on his thigh. “I-I don’t want to hurt you,” he repeated, but it was starting to lose its original harshness. He was fading, and fast.

“It’s okay,” you murmured. You placed your hand on his bare chest, feeling the way his heartbeat stuttered and stammered under your touch. He cursed in response, the hand on your wrist twitching, clearly fighting the urge to touch you. In a split-second decision, you swung your right leg over his lap and straddled him, careful not to grind against him, waiting for an answer first. He let out a choked noise and grabbed you by the hips, his tight grip making you gasp. “Yes or no?” you breathed.

“Ahhh, maus.” The low groan he let out was nearly animalistic. “Yes,” he begged, and that was all you needed to hear.

You started grinding on his lap gently, trying to restrain yourself from going further. You wanted to be mindful of his sensitivity, but König simply huffed in annoyance and used his tight grip on your hips to tug you all the way down into his lap—allowing you to feel everything. The imprint of his hard, throbbing cock made you dizzy; you couldn’t resist pressing against it, moaning softly at the delicious friction it granted your clit.

“Scheiße,” König murmured, his thighs twitching underneath you. You felt bad, knowing he was probably dying for some real contact, so you decided to give it to him.

Your heart raced as you reached for his waistband, unbuckling his belt and sliding his pants to his knees. His cock was straining against his briefs, a wet patch forming from precum, and you quickly removed those as well, watching his hardened cock spring up and then fall slightly, its weight making it unable to reach his stomach. Your mouth went dry. Fuck, he was huge. You supposed it made sense: as an exceptionally large man, it was logical to have a proportionally large cock, but the sight of it still shocked you.

“Maus,” he whispered, breaking you out of your trance. He stared at you apprehensively, and you wrapped your much smaller hands around his cock, hearing him suck in a breath. You took a moment to marvel at the sheer size of him—your normally average-sized fingers looked miniature in contrast, unable to even fully wrap around his length. You felt your own arousal seep into your underwear, and you leaned down to kiss his tip.

The moan he let out turned you on even more than before, and you wasted no time teasing him, spitting into your hand and pumping his cock a few times before bringing the tip into your mouth, swirling your tongue over the slit before pushing him further down your throat. His cock was so large that you had to fight not to scrape your teeth against it, flattening your tongue under the base of it.

His hand fisted into your hair, pulling slightly every time you moved your lips up and down his shaft, twisting your hand in tandem. Your other hand gripped onto one of his thick thighs, feeling his leg twitch as he struggled not to buck his hips up into your mouth. Each strained noise and curse you coaxed from him only encouraged you more, your own whimpers muffled against his cock as you did your best to fit him down your throat.

After only a few minutes, you felt him twitching in your hand and sped up your pace, determined to pleasure him as much as possible. Curses fell from his lips as he finished, hot spurts of his release shooting down your throat. You swallowed it quickly, continuing to pump your hand up and down his still rock-hard shaft.

König, however, pulled you off quickly, eyes wide and dark with an almost fearful desperation as he stared at you. “The poison. It’s still…”

You looked back down to see his cock still twitching in your hand. “It’s okay,” you said, starting to lean back down, “I’ll just—”

“No!” He pulled you back up by the neck. You blinked at him in shock, and he stared back, pupils blown wide like black moons. There was a fiery hunger in his eyes as he looked at you, one you’d never seen before. The sheer want in his gaze sent a cold shiver down your spine. No one had ever looked at you like this before—like you were prey.

“König?” you asked nervously.

Instead of answering, he began to unbuckle your belt, and you gasped as his hand reached under your waistband to cup your clothed core, index finger tracing lightly over your clit. You fought back a mewl, chest seizing as you shut your eyes from the pleasure.

“So wet,” he marveled. He pushed your underwear to the side, smearing your arousal over your soaked folds as you whimpered, bucking your hips into his hand. “Just from sucking my cock?”

His switch in demeanor startled you, and you moaned as one of his large fingers pressed into your weeping hole, curling inside you with precision. His hands were so much bigger than yours; the stretch was making your knees weak. He quickly found your G-spot, taking care to press against it as you arched into him. “Oh, oh, fuck, König,” you whimpered, coaxing a dark chuckle from him that made you clench around him.

Your thighs clenched around his hand, but he pried them apart with ease, forcing you to straddle him and rendering you helpless to his ministrations as he slowly dragged another finger in and out of you. With each achingly slow push into your dripping hole, he made sure to curl them just right, long fingers able to reach that sensitive spongy spot inside you effortlessly. His palm laid flat against your clit as he stroked your walls, letting you sloppily grind into his hand as he murmured praise into your ear.

“Does that feel good, liebling?” he asked, drinking in each of your breathy, pleasured noises with satisfaction. “You like making a mess on my fingers, mm?”

You simply whimpered, too embarrassed of your flustered state to form a real response. He seemed to pick up the hint, giving you a cocky smirk through his mask. “Ohh, it’s okay, maus,” he cooed, but his soft words were laced with a smug condescension that made your cheeks burn. “You look so pretty like this, all dumb on my fingers. I wish I could’ve seen it earlier.”

You whined again, desperately grinding down on his palm for more friction. His slow pace was torturous, giving you just enough to feel pleasure but not enough to build it. It was mean. It was twisted. It was agonizing. You were eating it up.

“Please,” you tried, teary eyes boring into his. “Can you—can you please—”

“Can I what, maus?” He cocked his head, darkened eyes twinkling with mirth. “Tell me, or I can’t help you.”

You know what I want, you wanted to shout at him, but you knew that wouldn’t work. “Please,” you begged, “I need more."

“What more do you need, maus?” he asked again. “You have a mouth. Use it.”

“Need you to—” You whimpered pitifully, dropping your head into his shoulder. “Please, need you to go—go harder.” You nearly sobbed out the words, desperation winning out over your embarrassment. You were mortified at your teary, shaking voice, but he seemed to revel in it, squeezing your thigh in appreciation.

“Oh, is that what you wanted?” he teased, and you could hear the smirk in his voice. “You could have just said so.”

He set a steady pace with his fingers, bullying them inside of you hard enough to make you squirm against him. With each thrust, he curled them just right, sending your eyes rolling back and mouth falling open in heavy pants as you mewled into his shoulder. You were grateful to be spared of his intense gaze; you didn’t think you could look at him in the state you were in. It was mortifying just hearing the sounds of his fingers pumping in and out of your gushing cunt.

“Oh, maus,” he cooed into your ear as you trembled, keening at the stretch of his fingers. “You’re just so beautiful like this, you know. So fucking desperate and pathetic. I wish I could see you like this all the time.”

Would I like him to finger me like this all the time? Hell yes, you thought to yourself, but you couldn’t find the words to tell him, only able to whine and nod vigorously into his shoulder, lost in the feeling of his fingers inside you. You could feel yourself starting to reach the edge of your climax, grinding harder and harder into his palm and gasping with each spark of pleasure it gave your throbbing clit. You were so wet that you were starting to wonder if you’d been infected, too; each time he hit your g-spot just right, you felt more and more slick dribbling out of you and down your thighs. It was driving you insane.

“K-König!” You managed a cry of his name right before you came, clenching around his fingers as you bucked your hips into his hand. Breathy whines fell from your lips, your thighs shaking and seizing as you squirmed in his hold, feeling an almost overwhelming wave of pleasure wash over your body. The feeling was so intense it was almost painful; you hadn’t had an orgasm in so long, and the effect was palpable. His arms held you tight, keeping you grounded while you shuddered in his grasp, his big fingers determined to prolong your ecstasy.

When you finally came down from your high, you couldn’t look at him, mortified at your messy state. His fingers were still knuckle-deep in your arousal, and you could feel more of your slick dripping down your thighs, wet and uncomfortable. You kept your head buried in his chest shyly while your happy cunt stayed spasming in his hand.

“Okay, schatz?” he asked softly, using his free hand to tilt your head towards him. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

You stared up at him, mouth open. There were practically hearts in your eyes; your adoration was clear to him, and he laughed at your expression, cradling your cheek with his hand. “Aww, schatz.” He clicked his tongue, a smile audible in his voice. “You’re so sweet.”

Your cheeks burned red at the words, and you blinked rapidly, unable to look away. His piercing blue eyes stayed trained on yours, but there was a warmth in them that soothed you. He petted your cheek, lifting his hood to press a kiss to your forehead.

Your mind felt fuzzy. All you could think about was your need to be filled by him, and you pawed at his hard cock, wrapping your fingers around the base of it. A hiss of pleasure escaped him, and you kept your eyes on his, wide and pleading. “Please fuck me,” you whispered, still trembling in his grasp.

König’s eyes darkened, and he tugged off the rest of your bottoms quickly. His strong hands lifted you to hover you over his cock, and you shuddered with anticipation, head spinning. He rubbed the tip through your dripping folds, coaxing out a gasp as it brushed over your swollen clit. You tried to push him inside, squirming, but his tight grip on the bottoms of your thighs kept you in place, and you whined his name, hoping he would take pity on you.

“Bitte, König,” you begged, and he practically growled at the words, mercifully allowing you to sink onto the tip of his cock and drawing out a desperate mewl. Even with how wet you were, he was so, so big that he was practically tearing you in half.

“K-König—”

“Hush, liebling,” he soothed, and you moaned as your core clenched around him, beacons of pleasure ripping through you from just the feel of him. He waited for you to relax and then pushed in farther as you gasped at his length.

“Mmph! König—” You keened as he continued to push himself into you, waiting each time to make sure you were okay. You could feel his hard cock twitch with each thrust, and you knew it must be difficult for him not to go straight into fucking you, that he was holding himself back to be more gentle. The thought only made you moan louder.

Tears slipped down your cheeks when he finally bottomed out, and he wiped them away with his thumb. “I’m sorry, maus,” he groaned, no doubt feeling the way you clenched around him. “You’re just—so tight—”

You wanted to tell him to it was okay, but from your already fucked out mind, all that came out was a dumb whimper of his name. In response, he pulled up his sniper hood to kiss your forehead, to which you whined and chased his lips with your mouth. This made him chuckle, and he guided your lips to his, coaxing out a soft moan as his tongue met yours. He tasted wonderful, and you mewled into his mouth, feeling even more worked up from the way he kissed you: hot and desperate and sweet, like the world was ending and you were the last ones in it.

“Mein maus,” he growled, suddenly thrusting up into you and making your eyes roll back. His hips snapped against yours, setting a pace that sent your thoughts reeling. “Taking me so well, doing so good for me, hm? Du bist mein schatz, ja?”

“Yes, fuck—yes,” you babbled, barely able to understand what he was saying. His unusually rough tone was fogging up your dumbed-out mind, the contrast between his sweet words and punishing pace reducing you to nothing but a crying, creaming mess. You’d never been this wet for someone before. “Yes, yes, yes, I’m yours, please—”

“Good girl,” he moaned, pushing you up and down his cock with dizzying strength. Your legs tightened around his waist as he thrust up into you, high-pitched and pitiful noises falling from your lips at a shameful volume. He was using you like a toy, you thought, and the notion of it made your pleasured cries even louder.

“Mmm, yeah? Mmm?” He mimicked your breathy moans, and you could hear the grin in his voice. Normally, you’d be mortified, likely retorting with some witty insult, but now? Now with the way he was fucking you, all you could do was whine in pitiful response.

“So needy for me,” he groaned, punctuating each word with a deep thrust. The sheer force of him made your eyes roll back, and you felt that tight coil in your belly close to snapping.

“Fuck, König—” You panted heavily, your legs starting to give out. “K-König, oh my God, I’m gonna—”

“I know,” he cooed, pulling you closer to his chest so your clit could find purchase on his toned abs. “Doing so good for me, schatz. Such a good girl, getting off on me like this. Like the way I feel, mm?”

His sweet praise became your tipping point, your orgasm hitting you like a freight train. You cried his name, mouth falling open in shock as your legs kicked out, your cunt weeping and convulsing around him as you keened. You gasped for air as your orgasm rocked through you, the pleasure suddenly becoming all too much as he continued to drill himself into your gushing cunt.

Tears streamed down your cheeks as you sobbed from the overstimulation, but he didn’t let up his pace, pressing chaste kisses to your lips to soothe you. “Wonder how many orgasms I can get from you,” he murmured. You could hear the smile in his voice as he panted. “How many more, mein schatz?”

“I—I don’t know!” you cried as his pelvis dragged against your clit, sending shocks of electricity through you. “I don’t—I can’t—”

He groaned as you trembled in his hold, pretty blue eyes boring into yours. “You can do it for me,” he replied. “I know you can. Isn’t that right, liebling?”

“Ahh—König—” The juxtaposition of his soft kisses and brutal pace was making your head spin. Too overwhelmed to answer, you just clutched onto his shoulders tighter, crying out every time his skin brushed against your puffy, overstimulated clit. It was painful. It was overwhelming. It felt so fucking good.

“Hush, mein schatz,” he coaxed, holding you closer as you clenched around his cock, babbling incoherently as he fucked up into you. “You’re doing so good, I promise.”

The answer was two. Two more earth-shattering orgasms before he finally went soft, coming inside of you twice before either (1), his dick just gave out, or (2), the poison wore off. Either way, by the end of it, you were exhausted and fucked out, still recovering from your cock-drunk state as he cleaned you up.

“I’m sorry, maus,” he apologized, sounding genuinely remorseful as he gently wiped your soaked thighs with a clean cloth he had found in the room. “I’m so sorry, I don’t—I don’t know what came over me.”

“Drugs,” you supplied, staring at the ceiling in exhaustion. “Really bad drugs.”

“Yes, drugs,” he agreed, carefully mopping your folds as you sighed. “But still—I am sorry. I was…overzealous. I hope I did not hurt you too bad.”

“I’ll be a little sore,” you admitted, glancing at the bruises his fingers had left on your waist and hips. “But I’ll be fine, trust me.”

He sighed, somehow managing to look resigned even with the sniper hood. “I should not have been so hard on you. I’m sorry.”

“Honestly?” you murmured, blinking at him sleepily. “That was the best sex I’ve ever had.”

He froze for a moment. “What?”

“Not that I’ve had a lot of sex,” you said quickly. “But still, that was the best I’ve ever had. Probably will ever have, now that I think about it. You must be very experienced. Oh God, I should not have said that out loud. I am—I am so sorry.”

Even with his sniper hood on, you could tell he was blushing. “Oh, um—it’s okay, maus.” You could hear the shyness in his voice. “I do not consider that to be my best performance, but I will take it as a compliment.”

“Your best performance?” You stared at him, mind running through everything that had just happened. You’d had sex before, but that—that was a whole ass experience. You’d never even dreamed about anything that good. “Christ, what’s your best performance, then?”

“Well,” he replied, sliding your soaked underwear back up your legs for you, “I would have taken you out on a date first, at the very least. That would be the proper way to court you.”

“Court me?” you repeated, sitting up straight. “I didn’t know you were so well-mannered, König.”

He looked away from you, shifting awkwardly from his spot on the floor. “I try to be courteous before sticking my dick in people.”

It took you a moment to realize he was joking, and you laughed—actually really laughed out loud. His awkward humor was charming you, and you felt warmth swell in your chest as you listened to him speak. You grinned at him, his eyes crinkling in a smile back.

König still smiled, but a hint of sadness pervaded his gaze. “Ah, schatz.” He hesitated. “I would have liked to make love to you,” he sighed, “but I did not imagine these would be the circumstances. I was hoping to take you on a date first, get to know you better.”

“You wanted to what?” Your eyes widened, and you blinked in confusion. “But…I thought you didn’t like me.”

König practically jolted in place. It was like you’d electrocuted him. He stared at you. “Why would you ever think that?”

“You talk to everyone but me,” you said softly. “I thought you didn’t trust me. Thought you hated me.”

“Hated—?” He shook his head vigorously. “No, I wanted to speak to you. You just…made me nervous. The others do not.”

“I made you nervous?” The words fell from your lips with shock, your eyebrows furrowing. “How would I—how did I ever make you nervous? You’re like three times the size of me!”

König shrugged, sheepish. “You’re very pretty. And you seemed…kind, and well-connected with the others. I have trouble finding that connection. I didn’t want to say the wrong thing to you and fuck it up.”

“So you said nothing at all.” You were quiet for a moment, turning over the information in your mind. “Wow. I was way off.”

“Yes,” he agreed, “but it is okay. I’m sorry for making you think I disliked you, schatz.”

“It’s okay,” you chuckled, shaking your head in disbelief. You ran a hand through your hair, beyond shocked at everything happening. You couldn’t believe you’d fucked your colleague, the one you’d had a crush on for who knows long, and also discovered that he didn’t, in fact, hate you. “At least I know now.”

“Next time, I will be better,” König vowed, helping you tug on your pants. “More gentle. I will do things right, I promise.”

“Next time?” You hesitated, biting your lip. “There will be a next time?”

“Of course there will,” he answered, adjusting his tactical gloves. “Did you not hear what I said earlier?”

“Um…which one?” He’d said a lot of things earlier.

He helped you to your feet, towering over you as he cupped his large hand under your jaw. Your heart stopped in your chest as you looked up into his eyes, his large frame dwarfing yours beyond comparison. “Du bist mein schatz, ja?” he repeated, gloved thumb tracing over your bottom lip. His very soul seemed to ooze confidence. “That’s what I said, no?’

With the way he was making you feel right now, you didn’t think it was even possible to say the word no. “Y-yes,” you stammered, adoration clear in your eyes as you gazed up at him.

He chuckled and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “So there will be a next time. Unless, of course, you don’t want to.”

“N-no, no, no, I definitely want!” you said quickly. You stumbled over your words in your eagerness, and your cheeks flushed in embarrassment. “I would like that a lot.”

“Good,” he said, patting the top of your head. Normally, you’d be furious at such an action, but considering his height, it seemed more practical than condescending. “Now come, schatz,” he said, adjusting his vest. “Time to deny everything to the rest of the team.”

Oh, fuck. You sighed. “Yeah…I forgot about that.”

4K notes · View notes