Their Doll (1/3)

You love him

*Smut and mentions of Non-con ahead*

I flinched as the blood sprayed, splattering across my face sickeningly as the dagger plunged into his neck. The body fell limp, collapsing to the floor with a hollow thud, a sound that barred me from ever going to heaven.

Of course, I wasn't the one who was holding the knife. In fact, the whole scene could be seen as rather comical if a man hadn't lost his life. The melodic tune I'd hummed as he'd lifted the knife to his own neck, the fear in his features as the jagged point pressed to his skin. But it was the sight of the life leaving his eyes, the splattered blood that made the whole thing so...sinister.

I stopped humming the little tune, checking over my make-shift scene before swiftly exiting the building through a back window - making sure not to remove my gloves until I reached my bike.

That was the true beauty of my power, or at least in HYDRA's eyes it was. The fact that I could simply stand by, and make my victims - their victims - do all the dirty work for me, and when all is said and done to everyone around them it looks like they'd killed themselves.

Id made the man scrawl a quick little note first, as to try and convince his family and friends it was a suicide and someone didn't hold him at gun point or something.

I can't live like this anymore

That's all the note said. Not too short, but also not so long it instantly because unconvincing and obviously forced. I mean let's be honest, if you were to off yourself would you really drag it out or would you be so desperate to go already that you'd find the quickest way out? I know what I'd do. It's not like I'd thought about it since joining HYDRA...but let's just say the thought hasn't entirely avoided me.

...
It was almost like my ritual, every time someone died at my hands. I would arrive back at the compound - where two guards would search me (arguably much too thoroughly to the point that every time it happened I seemed to feel nauseous after) and I'd be sent straight off the the shower room.

From there, I'd let the cold water wash over me, usually spiking my skin into goose bumps before my eyes would become shellacked with tears and my mind would start to numb. That's when I'd slowly sink to the floor, head held in my hands as sobs wracked my frame.

If we're still being honest, I never actually new how long this lasted. It could be minutes, that only seemed to stretch for hours, or it could in truth be hours that were just as long as they felt.

There is one thing I know, though. It's always the soldier who brings me out of it. The warm touch of his flesh hand against my shoulder, the shivering cold brush of his metal one before he's pulling me to my feet and engulfing me in his beefy, yet welcoming, arms. Again, I have no idea how long this lasts, but I sure hope it lasts for hours.

When he'd pull away, my eyes would remain glued to his plump lips, my tongue trailing along my own as my eyes would burn with a hunger. If I'd looked up into his eyes too, I'd find a similar hunger blazing there.

He initiated the kiss, as he always did, lips desperate and hard against mine, almost bruising as his teeth nipped at my bottom lip to beg for entrance. And I always grants it to him, moaning at the feeling of his tongue curling over mine, his hands tangling in my hair, roaming my body, playing me like an instrument he'd been practicing for years.

The soldier pushed me against the wall, lips sucking and kissing along my neck - sure to leave a mark but neither of us cared. In fact, I'm sure he rather liked it, having me marked as his.

I let out a long moan as his fingers - the metal ones - found their way to my core, tracing over my slit and up to my clit to collect some of the wetness there before they were plunging into my heat.

"Fuck! Soldier!" I cried, heat thrown back against the old tiled wall as he worked his fingers at a punishing pace inside me, working me open so I could take him. He was curling his fingers just right, hitting that one spot inside of me that sent shivers down my spine and made white spots form over my vision when I came apart. The soldier smirked at me, detaching his lips from my neck and bringing his digits to his lips before sucking my juices off them right in front of me.

The sight was sinful, really, and all I could do was keep myself standing as my legs shook with arousal and the remnants of my previous orgasm.

"Delicious." Was all he said, before the soldier's lips were back on mine is a bruising kiss and him large hands were cupping my ass and pulling my legs up around his waist. I moaned against his mouth, tasting myself as his tongue swept its way into my own mouth before stroking over my tongue. There would surely be bruises decorating me whole body when this was done - not an unusual occurrence - from how hard the soldier was gripping me, but the pain only amounted to the pleasurable sparks setting my body alight at that very moment.

I reached down blindly, not wanting to break the searing kiss as I felt around for his aching cock. Of course, it wasn't very hard to find, and once I felt it I took ahold of it with a hand wrapped delicately around him. I pumped the soldier's length a few times, a long, low groan slipping into our kiss as I lined him up with my entrance. My head was once again thrown back when his tip nudged my clit, sending my eyes rolling back in my skull and forcing a scream from me when he plunged in in one thrust.

"S'tight." He grunted against my neck, pulling his hips back slowly before snapping them forwards with enough force to make me thick there could be cracks in the stone wall behind us. It was torturous, his pace, so slow yet so hard I felt as if the air was being punched from my lungs with every thrust.

"F-faster." I moaned, hands holding onto his muscly shoulders for dear life as he begun to fail into me. My cunt was stretched to its limit around the soldier's girth, yet the sinful burn just felt like more pleasure as the pace of his thrusts distracted me. My eyes were constantly rolled back into my skull, legs jelly around his waist and if it weren't for his hands holding me up my my ass I would be sprawled on the floor in that moment.

My brain turned to mush, and I could even remember my own name, let alone enough words to tell the soldier how good he was making me feel. So instead I opted for a long, drawn-out moan as his tip kissed my cervix with ever pump inside of me. The soldier looked down to see where our bodies were connected, his eyes glittering with lust at the slight of my wetness dripping from his cock and liger coating both our thighs and most probably the floor in my slick. What made him smirk even wider, though, was the bulge in my stomach every time he thrusted, his cock so deep in my you could see it.

The soldier pressed down on that point, a new wave of arousal flooding through me at the thought of taking something so big.

I could feel myself clenching down on him like a vice, my second realise so close I could almost feel it. From the way his hips faltered and his thrusts stuttered to the guttural, wanton string of moans that escaped his lips like a symphony, I could sense he was close too. I reached down, rubbing furious circles over my swollen clit, trying to push myself over the edge at the same time as the soldier.

I don't know who's orgasm triggered whose, but from the way they ripped through us, it was apparent that one caused the other.

...
I sat mindlessly in my cell, the only thing I was able to do was stare back into the blue eyes already trained on my own body. I didn't want to admit it. I couldn't admit it.

I shook my head, trying to shake the thoughts creeping through my mind, clawing at me and begging me to accept them. But the idea made me feel slightly sick, I think. Well, it could be more that it should make me feel sick, but try as I might, it wouldn't.

I couldn't stop that little voice, the one literally screaming the words at me every time my eyes slid over him, every time the soldier was in my sight: you love him.