Kimi "The Iceman" Räikkönen @ Belgian GP 2009 podium
Absolutely radiant with the win. I hope I did the original picture justice. More rougher art style than the Nico one, and i let the sketch layer hang around.
On September 19, 1991, a German couple was hiking in the Austrian Alps when they found a body of what they thought was a mountain climber who accidentally perished...However, it turned out the body had been frozen in the ice for over 5300 years. The body became known as Ötzi, 'The Iceman'. Shockingly, the iceman appeared to have been a victim of a murder and still had an arrowhead stuck in his left shoulder (in addition to many other injuries). A wealth of prehistoric items were found scattered around the body, including a bow with arrows, a copper axe, a flint knife with a woven sheath, fur and leather clothing, shoes, and other small items.
Warnings : R18, Naughty behavior, caught him by surprise, smut, he hates to see you leave but loves watching you go
Word count : 3167
Chris Evans Masterlist
Robert didn’t particularly like this neighborhood, and he certainly didn’t care for the pressed-shirt types that populated it. But, the house wasn’t expensive, and it suited all of his needs. The way he saw it, as long as he kept his distance from all the white picket fence type of people, he’d do just fine.
He was working on a shitbox car in the attached garage—another cheap purchase, but it did just enough to carry him this far. The summer sun was cooking him in the un-air conditioned space, even with the garage door pulled up to allow the occasional breeze to come in.
Robert cursed upon catching his finger on a poorly placed hole near what he was sure was the carburetor. He jerked back, tossing an oily rag against the ground in a huff before nursing his sore finger.
He tried to take a breather, wiping his clean hand over his neck. Better to clear away the sweat that had built up on his skin before stepping away from the mess. He went into the driveway to catch that bit of breeze that rolled past the house, and it didn’t come alone.
You were riding past the house on your bike, hair blown back in the wind and the sun kissing your exposed skin. It was the first thing that caught his eye, with the last being your cutoff denim shorts tightly hugging your ass.
You had ole Robert turning his head just as you passed his trash bins. It was until you rolled your pedals back to brake, coming to a solid stop as your shoe hit the pavement. He quickly averted his eyes the second they connected with yours, leaving him to miss the small and mischievous smile that pulled along your lips.
You caught the moment he dared to look back at you, giving him a friendly wave. He stared back for a second, confused by any actual neighborly behavior, let alone from someone like you.
He waved back before you turned away, watching as you kicked back off the road and cycled away. You left him with just the short memory of your shapely figure working over a blue cruiser bicycle.
He tried to clear his mind by putting his focus back on the car, but he never made much progress. He was quickly admitting defeat after an hour of fucking around with it.
Tossing his tools back in their box, he reached for the pull cord to yank the door to the garage closed when he heard a familiar spin of bicycle spokes. He spared a glance out at the road and was surprised by a familiar face.
You were off your bike this time, choosing instead to roll it along the road.
He offered another wave, much like you had upon your first passing, only this time you spoke back to him in return.
“Hello”
Your voice sounded sweet, even airy, and it easily caught Robert off guard. “Uh, hey there.”
“What's your name?” You chirped back.
“Me?” He mouthed back, barely audible. You recognized the gesture all the same.
“Is there someone else in there with you?” You laughed.
He scoffs before answering the previous question. “My name’s Robert.”
“Do you have a bike pump, Robert?” You asked.
“What?” It was all he'd given back as a response, somewhat dumbfounded as to why the hell you were even talking to him in the first place.
“Do you..” you began to repeat, only to be cut off midway.
“I heard you; I just…why?” He finally spit out the question. Why?
Why were you smiling at him, batting your lashes in his direction? Why were you even giving him a second glance, let alone asking him for anything?
“My tire went flat.” You say as you roll your bike closer, crossing onto his concrete driveway and overstepping an invisible boundary.
Robert didn’t answer again, standing mostly agast with the garage cord still in between his fingers. He doesn’t know how to talk to gentle young things like you, and he gaped at the absurdity of the conversation like a fish out of water.
“You don’t want to help me, Robert?” You said with a soft pout as you dug the toe of your shoe side to side on the concrete.
He counters back quickly, although his words end up being fumbled. “No…I.” He had to think for a second, “I can help; just give me a second,” and with that, he pushed the garage door back up and turned back to look for the needed bike pump.
You follow him inside, rolling your bike alongside you as he disappears behind the car. It annoyed him a little bit that you didn’t just stay put; in fact, you seemed to linger just a little too closely for his own comfort.
You’re just a peach, and he’s anything but sweet.
Your skin was a little sweaty from your afternoon ride, giving you an unearthly glow. He, on the other hand, felt grungy from the perspiration that stuck to his clothes and hair after working with the car.
He’s digging for anything that resembles a bike pump. He had agreed without thinking about whether he actually had one. Yet, low and behold, just the right item was found buried within some unpacked boxes.
“So you’re new around here?” You asked, a sweet lilt to your voice as you ignored any of the negativity in his body language.
“Uh, yeah. Moved in a month or two ago.” He answered back as he tried to focus on the task at hand.
You bounded back over, nearly splayed across his shoulder, as you watched him examine the tire for any holes. He did find another reason for it to have gone flat.
“Shit, it looks like the cap for the air valve is missing. It’ll just run out of air aga…”
“Oh, here you go.” You quickly and conveniently pulled the little black cap from your shorts pocket, holding it out for him to take.
Robert is well confused as to why it’s in your pocket instead of on your bike, but as his brows knit together, he found he didn’t care to ask. He only wanted to get this shit done. It was hard enough to work while trying to keep an eye on the beautiful creature that had just invaded his space.
“So, what made you decide on this neighborhood?” You asked, rocking back and forth on your heels as you stood back up from your hunched position.
You toed around his garage as he pumped the bike tire out of his line of vision but not his mind.
“Uh, I don’t know. The house was cheap, I guess.” He answered back.
You ran your finger along the dusty lines in a small fridge at the corner of the garage as you continued to speak. “Meet any other neighbors?”
“Uh, no. Hey, I’m trying to do this, so if you could..yeah.” He couldn’t string together the precise words, but his meaning came through. He wanted you to cut out whatever the hell you were doing where he couldn’t see.
Not that you would actually listen, but you did give him a sassy “Sor-ry.”
“Thank you for helping me. I promise I’ll be very appreciative.” You said as you cracked the door open on the little fridge, feeling the cool air on your shins, before leaning down to look at its contents. The sound only just made him stop tinkering with the bike and toss you a glance over his shoulder. It wasn’t until he heard the ‘pst’ of someone cracking open a can of his beer that it spurred him back onto his feet.
“Hey, get the fuck out of there!” He yells behind his shoulder before fully standing. He watched, fuming a little, as you brought the open can to your lips for a taste.
He rushed across the small garage to rip the cab from your fingers, shouting out, “What the fuck do you think you're doing?!” before knocking the cab down instead.
It spilled out over the both of you, coating your clothes and his hands.
“Jesus, god damn it!” As he shakes the beer from his fingers as he sets the now empty can aside, trying not to just throw it at you.
You only gave a little “oh no” as you pulled at your now wet clothes.
He was already tearing at his soggy t-shit to pull it free from his body, not wanting anymore sticky skin. You followed suit, pulling your top over your head and letting your soft and unencumbered breasts fall free from the fabric. A cool breeze blew through from the opening of the garage, making your bare buds perk up against the chill.
Robert was at a loss for even a single thought at the sight of you. That breeze is the first thing to snap him back into reality. He’s at a loss as to what to do first: cover you up or shut the garage so no other neighbors could see the display you’d made.
He moves quickly now, jumping after the cord for the garage door and yanking it down until it hits the cement with a hard clunk.
He turned back as you began to unbutton your shorts to free yourself from the wet denim. He has to rush over and grab the hem of your shorts just to keep you from slipping them down your body and completely exposing yourself to him.
He shouts out at you with “What the fuck are you doing?”
“My clothes got dirty.” You say this as if it were a matter of fact, like this was something completely normal to do in the presence of a strange man.
“What?!” Robert was entirely confused, half certain that none of this could be reality. Surely he had passed out from the heat, and this was some gorgeous fever dream.
“You spilled beer on my clothes; I have to take them off.” You spoke softly, more demure as you slid your hands over his as he gripped your undone jeans. You were gentle, especially compared to the stiffening of his muscles as you ran your nails lightly up and down his arms.
When Robert wasn’t immediately responsive, you taped at the nose piece of his glasses, pushing them up his face as you taunted him. "Geez, you’re thick.”
You had gotten close, nearly tickling the tip of his nose with yours.
“You know, I was hoping to say that when I actually got your pants off.”
You were devious. You had never seen ‘Robert’ in the neighborhood before and you sure as hell hadn’t seen any moving trucks to signal a new neighbor's presents in your cozy little burb. He looked wild, messy long hair, wide shoulders and a thick air of aggravation around him. The muscles in his neck had tightened as he had fought against the inner workings of his car.
You had thought you had a shot, but he had seemed so unreceptive. You definitely didn’t account for the spilling of the beer you had taken, but you worked it in your favor.
He simply puffed out a sharp breath, looking down at your exposed skin and realizing the absurdity of fighting against you. It was the first time he actually stopped to ask himself why he was trying to stop you.
He let you take his hands in yours, helping him push the wet denim down your body until they finally fell to the dusty floor before you kicked them away.
His voice was much more subdued, almost weak, as you cornered him against the side of his car. “What the hell are you doing?” He spoke more in awe this time. He was never this lucky, so you’d have to excuse his consistent skepticism.
You smiled once his hands had left the hem of your shorts and spread along your bare skin. You nuzzled over his cheek, leaning in to ghost your lips along the scruff of his mustache and beard. Whispering lowly, “I think you know exactly what I’m doing,” before finally stealing a heated little kiss.
It was quick, even searing. Even within this sweltering garage, he made your skin flush even hotter. At first, he hadn’t been as receptive as you’d hoped he would be, but as he pressed into the kiss you knew he’d finally come around.
Robert completely switched, becoming more aggressive with the way he handled you as he dragged his teeth over your lower lip before sucking it between them. You smiled with a happy whine as his mouth tore away to pepper sloppy, desperate kisses over your jaw and along your neck and shoulder.
Your fingers spread over his wide shoudlers, pulling him closer until his chest was squished against your plush breasts. His hands gripped either side of your waist, holding on tight as if you could fly away at any moment.
His fingers didn't wander over the parts of your body where you needed them the most. Out of a little frustration, you basically had to grab his digits too harshly so as to guide him to drag them over your hip. His hand didn't want to leave your soft flesh, and you laughed as you forced it over your belly and down the front of your panties.
“C’mon, I need you to touch me, Robert.” You sounded impatient, but you were met with an equally needy growl of agreement as it rumbled from his chest.
His fingers kicked into action as soon as a tip touched one of your hidden folds. You hummed with joy, giggling against his lips as you stole another kiss.
His fingers wove through your lower lips to play at your entrance. You’re raking your fingers through his long hair as he’s dragging his thick digits through the soft petals of your soppy cunt.
His left hand traveled further down your body, sliding through the waistband of those lace panties. His right fingers pumped through your wet sex as he fought to gain purchase around the thin material of your underwear. His mind was too preoccupied with bumping his knuckles along your inner walls as he broke his lips away again to bite at your neck. The bruises he’d leave would bloom angry and purple by tomorrow.
An animalistic part of his brain became fed up with this last scrap of fabric as it stuck to your body, and his nails tore through it in protest before he ripped it with a sickening crack of snapping seams. It stayed stuck around the side of your other leg but fell to ribbons alongside the other.
His hands reached further, gripping your by the back of your soft squeezable thighs and hoisted you up so that your sneakers dangled a good 6 inches off the floor.
Your ass crashes against a shabby tool bench that helped to sandwich the two of you next to the car. It came with the house, and he was planning to just chuck it out, but somehow it became incredibly useful.
With you more or less safely perched at cock height, he began tearing apart his belt buckle so he could shimmy his jeans down to his thighs.
“Is this even fucking real?” He growls under his breath, moreso to himself, but you laugh anyway.
His hands were hungry, dragging and clawing over your body. It was as if he needed to memorize its shape, as if by some stroke of terrible luck you could disappear within an instant.
His boxer band is on display before he grabs a handful of cloth and denim to pull it down to his thighs. His cock is more alive than it had been in months, and with the option of real pussy on the line, it was throbbing, bobbing against his stomach as he pulled it free.
“Oh shit. Are you sure?” He still doubted, frustrating you just a little bit more.
You nod back, whimpering, “Yes, yes!”
“You’re not gonna turn back into a pumpkin the second I stick it in, will ya?” He chuckled, finally letting himself relax.
“Oh what, you think you’re fuckin funny all of a sudden?” You say as you wrapped your legs around his back to pull him flush against your lower body.
This time he’s taking the hint and aligning the tip with the soft pink opening of your flower. He nearly wanted to commit the image of it to memory, but for now he couldn’t leave either of you waiting a single second, and he pushed through your tight little opening.
Oh, what a beautiful young lady you were! You were practically flexing around his cock as he pushed further in.
“Fuck Me.” He gritted out as he ground his teeth together.
He fucks you just like that, bent over your splayed body, carefully pumping through your tight channel. He was eager now, paying no mind to your tight expression as he stretched your walls apart.
His hips started to piston back and forth, making the old wooden legs of that work bench creak in protest of the misuse. You were hanging off the edge, one shoed foot propped up by the heel on the side of the bench, and the other grazing against the cement floor in the hopes of balancing itself.
You whine at the tickling and the flutter of his cock dragging along your inner walls, stirring your pussy and making you cry. You sang his name—a tune he’d never thought he’d hear sung from such sweet lips.
The garage is humid, with thick and sticky hot air clouding over you both as he plunged in and out of your wet heat. Each slam of his hips sent a ricochet of something hot, like a satisfying burn shooting up your belly and smoldering against the back of your eyelids.
Each shot of that white-hot bliss built into a waiting inferno until it all burst apart. You nearly couldn’t breathe as you unraveled around him, and he ground his teeth together as his own end neared.
For as fuck drunk as you had made him, he still had some sense to pull himself free from your gushing flower before his cock began to seize. Instead, he spilled out all over your soft belly.
His cock continued to twitch, dribbling out a last few beads of white nectar before beginning to soften.
Robert was fighting to catch his breath while being suffocated by the cloud of heat the two of you had made in that small garage.
“Fuck.” He groaned as he pulled his shirt up to wipe the sweat from his face, pushing up his glasses in the process.
You had to push yourself to sit up before carefully hopping down. The cum was still thick and wet, threatening to drip down your stomach and between your legs from the change of position.
“You’ve made me all dirty.” You whined.
“Uh, sorry.” His eyes were lidded, barely registering your words other than those that required an apology from himself.
“Well, I’m gonna need a shower.” You spoke, but he wasn’t really listening anymore. He’s still so dumbfounded as you saunter right for the entrance to his house from the measly little garage.
It took him a minute to regain his bearings; only after taking a breath did he realize that the strange temptress that had bested him was now wandering through his house.
“Wait, a fuckin minute!” He shouted as he ran after you.
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event | kinkmas 2023
prompts | sex tape + medfet
pairing | hitman!robert pronge x innocent!reader
warnings | extremely dark, the darkest thing i've ever written (we've entered dead dove do not eat territory; please heed ALL warnings.) canon-level mature themes: kidnapping, torture films, murder. implications that reader will be killed. robert is cold and ruthless. innocent!virgin!reader. filming of illicit sex tape. reader is blindfolded and gagged. restraints. medfet elements: robert's little setup is giving vintage white tile exam room, exam table, stirrups, those gd black gloves, speculum use. clit focus (puff puff content incoming.) vibrator. multiple forced orgasms. squirting. overstimulation. mocking and degradation. robert puts a cig out on reader's leg. written in 3rd person idk.
word count | 1,485
an | i'm kind of sitting here like wtf, ,, what is this and how did it come out of me lol. a little nervous to post, but i trust you guys to make responsible decisions about the media you consume!!! i'll probably never write something this fucked up again but for whatever reason it was just flowing out of me tonight folks, please again i'm begging you go read the warnings, like a second time through wouldn't hurt lol, and i hope you enjoy!!
Bringing its bitter end to his lips, Robert used one hand to draw in a deep breath of his dwindling cigarette, the other lazily holding a black magic wand in its designated place. He was nearly an hour into the day's filming session, and his subject was reaching a level of exhaustion and misery that made her more annoying to play with than anything else. But knowing he needed to milk at least a little more footage out of her before putting her back under and calling it a day, the man kept at the task. He tried to remind himself that he should be enjoying himself; considering the kinds of commissions he generally had to choose from, this particular case was a treat. A pretty little virgin, as soft and pure as the early spring rain, with the most stunning body the criminal had ever had the privilege of defiling. He could spend another thirty minutes at his station, watching as all the life and dignity were drained out of his poor little victim like blood dripping to the cold tile floor.
Through the musty cloth rammed between her battered lips, the poor girl's cries were escalating as her tormentor swirled the curve of the wand's slick bulb over her burning clit. Robert knew what her worsening wails meant; with a callous grin, he pulled his cig from his mouth just in time to press its smoking end to the girl's inner thigh as she came. With the howl she let out, he was thankful for the buffer the gag provided. "Noisy little bitch," he laughed as her juices sprayed out against his gloved hands. "That's it, slut. Fucking take it."
Glancing at the camcorder sitting off to his side, Robert considered his options. As much satisfaction as he derived from seeing how many orgasms could be wrung out of the poor thing before her body knocked her out as an act of mercy, his sadistic tendencies were getting bored of the monotony. Tossing the used cigarette to the floor, the man slowed the wand to a stop. He rolled away slightly on his stool, tossing the condom that was wrapped over the toy's head into the large black trash bag sitting in the center of the large room's floor. This far into his career, Robert had his methods down to a science. There was a way to keep everything clean, everything untraceable.
It was the whole purpose of his "worksite"; it provided a secure, controlled environment for the entire job to take place in, from start to flatline finish. The "set" was by far his favorite portion of the space, and understandably so, as it's where his sick imagination got to run wild for hours, days on end. And his clients were just as enthusiastic about the vivid stage he had put together for their subjects to shine on. It was somewhat inspired by a vintage gynecology office. He had the classic off-white exam table, equipped with a daunting pair of metal stirrups that were always positioned just a little wider than what would be comfortable. A sturdy set of restraints were of course a must, and to make sure the camera picked up on every agonizing detail, he had installed an adjustable surgical light overhead that could be aimed and drawn in to illuminate any area or action he chose. He hadn't struggled to gather all the tools and instruments he could ever want, either. A few of his buyers were licensed professionals themselves, opening the door to acquiring inventory from the big-name brands in bulk.
The other corners of the room had their designated uses as well: one with a filthy mattress for the unconscious victims to waste away on as heavy drugs pumped through their systems, another with large plastic sheets covering the floor, walls, and ceiling where the poor souls were hosed down (inside and out) before a bullet to the temple inevitably ended their long days of suffering. But most of their waking hours were spent on that dreaded padded table, the very spot where Robert's most recent capture was using the few moments he spent away from his station desperately trying to regain control of her breathing.
He returned to his position swiftly after switching out his soiled pair of black gloves for fresh ones, not wanting to waste any of his or his client's time. The sight of the girl's abused sex was enough to make the man drool; it had been quite some time since he had seen such a marvelous-looking cunt, so glorious in its messy destruction. Knowing he should share the beautiful sight, he took the time to adjust the camera, zooming in from a full-body shot to focus solely on the spot between the victim's legs. With the humiliating inspection he was preparing to perform, he wanted to be sure his buyer got to see each drop of come the poor girl let out, every twitch and spasm he would pull from her helpless body.
"Now let's see here," the man breathed as he brought his gloved fingers up to gently spread out the ruined-looking pussy before him. Noticing the way his subject winced as her puffy folds were pried open, he couldn't help but laugh in dark delight. He drew his attention to her throbbing clit, noting how much it had grown in size from all those unwanted orgasms he had forced out of her. Its hood was completely retracted, leaving the poor bud exposed to the open air. In a moment of perverted curiosity, Robert pinched the hardened nub harshly between his fingers, earning the prettiest sob he had heard from the girl all day. He chuckled once more, rolling and pulling at the knot of flesh for a few more seconds of additional torture before finally moving his hands away.
"What do you think? Should we try for one more?" he mused mockingly as he grabbed a plastic speculum from one of the drawers built in beneath the table, unwrapping it and tossing its trash to the side before pausing to grin deviously over his victim. Glancing up at her head, he realized it was still covered with a black hood he had put on her at the beginning of the shoot. The buyer had requested for her to be blindfolded like this for a decent portion of the film, offering the explanation that she was "afraid of the dark," and that he wanted to see her in as much pain and fear as humanly possible. The hood had served its purpose for the day, but now, Robert wanted the poor girl to see each and every way he was going to be violating her body in real time. In one swift motion, he reached up and pulled the pocket of fabric away, exposing her stunning tear-stained face. "Hi sweetheart," he greeted viciously. Just as he was hoping, her cries worsened as she saw the dreaded tool in his hands. He had a certain liking for holding up the devices he was preparing to use to see his victim's reactions; after all, he got off on fear and dread just as much as his clients did.
"Time to open up this pretty little cunt and see what kind of damage we did," the man enthused as he forced the tip of the instrument into the girl's drenched opening. By now, she had been well stretched out and ruined by her captor's horrific methods. Grappling with his usual lack of restraint and self-control, Robert had barely made the drive back with the girl tied up in his trunk without pulling over and popping that perfect little cherry on his own time, without a single camera properly rolling.
Turning the speculum as it was fully inserted, the man took great pleasure in squeezing the handle to force the tool open, each tiny click that sounded only stretching the poor thing's aching walls out to a further, more painful degree. "There," he sighed in satisfaction as the last notch was reached. Pulling his hands away, he gave himself and the camera a few seconds to enjoy the view of the girl's milky insides, so worn and sore from the days of torture she'd endured.
"Alright. One more," he finally hummed, using his gloved fingers to collect some of the plentiful slick dripping from the speculum before dragging them up to find that adorable little button he loved bullying so much. Her fading sobs were revived in an instant, her throat growing hoarse from all the screaming she'd done. But as much as she cried, Robert was determined to get one final orgasm from her before putting her back under for the day. After spending so much time making that pretty pussy as puffy and sensitive as possible, he deserved to see it coming all stretched out painfully over his instrument of choice.
