Say my name

The beginning

You were never the type of girl that was desperate for attention or excitement. You were more comfortable in the shadows. Quiet. Unseen. Power was never something you craved. Growing up, you were the tomboy. Your wardrobe consisted of jeans, t-shirts, hoodies and worn chucks. Mostly in black. You joked that the black matched your soul, that you were dark and dead inside. Those who knew you, knew this was not the case.

You would sit with your step-father on Sundays watching football, and learning basic car maintenance. He was adamant on teaching you how to be self reliant. Very different from your biological father. Sperm donor was a more accurate description of who he was to you.

Your parents divorced when you were 5 years old. Which, honestly was the best thing that could have ever happened. The nightmares of your parents arguing, the stress causing you nose bleeds at this young age was something that you could never forget. No matter how hard you tried. The flashes of your father walking down the hall, snapping his leather belt to let you know what was coming, all because you broke a glass.

Your mother met your step-father when you were 7. He raised you as his own from that time on. He was a very different man from the man that helped create you. He was kind and warm, loving and giving. He is the reason you are who you are today.

The day he died, broke your spirit. He was the only man in your life that showed you what unconditional love was. He showed you what a woman should be treated like. He loved your mother so fiercely. When they met, your mother had been broken down so much by the men in her life who were supposed to love her. The men she was supposed to trust. She was a shell of a person. But he brought her back to life.

The day you graduated college was one of the happiest days of your life. You followed in your step-father foot steps and studied Psychology. You had never seen him look so proud. Sadly, he passed before he could see what you would make of your life.

At 28 years old, you had become one of New York's leading forensic psychologists. Growing up, you had an obsession with serial killers. Kemper, Dahmer, Ramirez. You would study their backgrounds. Their crimes. You desperately wanted to understand what made them tick. What made them do such evil things.

Working in this field, kind of took away your belief in romance. You see the damage, the carnage people do to each other every day. Your girl friends would tell you their date horror stories and it was a great deterrent from relationships for you. Besides, there was nothing your mind and a few toys couldn't accomplish for you. It was just better this way.

After the attack on New York, you were recruited by S.H.I.E.L.D. They had uncovered that you had taken courses in college on Norse Mythology, and the villain they were looking for, was a god. He was a trickster. An all powerful being capable of deception and chaos. You couldn't wait to get started.

The night before you were supposed to go to the Avengers compound, you were filled with a nervous, restless energy. You had packed your bags, unsure of how long you would be staying. You cleaned your little apartment, took a shower, and laid down to try and get some rest. But you couldn't shut your mind off. You couldn't help but doubt if you could do this.

This case, was unlike anything you had ever worked before. You were used to dealing with humans. Gods were a whole different story. There was only one thing you knew that could help quiet your mind and get you to sleep.

You reached to your night stand to pick up your favorite companion. A pretty red Rose. A little toy that had satisfied you more than any man ever had. And didn't require cuddles or a sandwich after.

To you, there is nothing like laying down in your bed of clean sheets, bare legs rubbing against them. You let your hands start to roam, down your stomach, between your thighs. Your fingers slipping in between your folds, and beginning to rub circles on your clit, finding your perfect speed. Feeling the sheets against your body, the smell of your own skin. You loved the way you smelled. Like Orchids and Black Current. And...leather? No. That isn't you. You shake it off.

As you feel yourself start to get slick, you grab your little rose and turn it on to 3 clicks. The perfect vibrations for your swollen bud. You place the toy on your waiting, eager spot and relish in the sensation it gives you. Goosebumps form across your skin as warmth spreads all over your body. Lost in your mind, you bite your lip and fight back a moan.

"Who said you could touch yourself"

a whisper in your ear. A sultry, velvet voice. You open your eyes but there no one there. You look around at your empty room. Again, the smell of leather invading your senses. Figuring it was just in your mind, you keep going.

"So eager and ready...mmm I can smell you princess"

Another whisper, a guttural groan. Almost primal. You open your eyes again and could swear someone was there. You felt his breath on your neck. But again see no one. Thinking again, it's in your mind.

Y/N: "fuck I must be reading too much dark romance lately"

Your fingers find their pace again, lightly moaning as your can feel yourself getting close to your release.

"Slow down love....I want to enjoy this show."

Suddenly images start flashing in your mind. Invading you. Hand around your throat. Fingers that aren't yours inside of you. Lips kissing down your skin. You can't see his face, but he has jet black hair that you just want to entangle your fingers in. You see his hands. Fuck you never thought hands could be so sexy. Long fingers, veins popping down his forearms as he runs his hand down your breasts, to your stomach. His knee pushing its way between your legs, forcing them open. He spreads both of your legs open, and leans down in between your thighs. All you can see are his eyes looking up at you. You feel his breath on your clit, causing you to shudder. You wanted his mouth on you, and he knows it. You start to squirm and and whimper as he says

"now beg".

The orgasm that rips through you is earth shattering. Your legs are shaking, hand and thighs soaked, fingers gripping the sheets. Your eyes shoot open, looking around the room once more. Nothing. You could swear you could feel him. It felt so real. It takes you a few minutes to come back down to earth, your breathing finally beginning to slow and your mind becoming more clear. The smell of that leather dissipating. And you finally drift off to sleep.