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yandere-kokeshi · 6 months

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We need to know how separate TF-141 would be as house-husbands!!! Please!!!

— Yandere headcanons of TF-141 as house-husbands

Warnings: Yandere behavior, older! characters, male gender roles, NSFW, slight delusional behaviors.

A/N: Anon, you are SO, so smart. I love you /a.

Captain “Price” John:

The type of house-husband nobody expected for him to be– not even himself. John had partially agreed to it, and now he’s a stay-at-home dad for your cats. When he wedded you, he never thought of it this way; and now, he had promised to always care for you, did he not?

Price is well over-tired, pretty hairy and massive; beard scratchy and face all squishy; he’s a chubby man. But that doesn’t stop him at all.

John loves waking you up in the mornings. Before even shaking you awake, he loves to admire you. Watching your different breathing patterns, some dribbles of drool, and the obvious bed marks staining your face makes him smirk. But of course, it ends too short when he realizes you need to get up.

John is so, oh gentle, when waking you up. Scarred hands rubbing at your hips as he rubs his beard into your shoulder, prepping kisses and telling you to get a move on. However, if you ignore him, he’s more than happy to leave some permanent marks, yes?

He always makes your breakfast and lunch the night before, chopping the meat, fruits, and vegetables into the correct order so he can easily sleep in with you till you leave. So, when your alarm goes off, he detaches himself from you, getting up with only his red boxers– turning on the oven to preheat the food yet again and leaving them on the table for you to enjoy when you get out of the shower.

And with that, he takes your health seriously, mentally and physically, which means most foods in the house are pretty healthy. All types of fruits, veggies, protein, and fiber nourishment is given with each meal, and he expects you to eat it all.

When shopping, he takes everything seriously. He hates getting off track, only sticking to what’s on the list, and cashiers who take too long on talking– especially if they openly flirt with him. Can’t you see I'm taken? He snarks out, showing off his wedding ring before fast walking out towards his car with his hands full.

Chores are chores. They need to be done. Dishes are easy, laundry, and vacuuming are a piece of cake. But cleaning the bathroom? Oh, that’s a bit difficult. Especially with the hidden camera he’s put out of your sight, and at times, he gets distracted; watching the many films, seeing you all naked and wet, makes Price feel... a sudden urge. How are you just so gorgeous, hm?

John is the definition of a “Pro Loyalty Card”. For all those stores he visits, he has cards for each and every single one of them, including the convenience store. They always come in handy.

Routines are his specialty; he knows everything about your schedule, to the time you leave for work, to when you call him at your lunch break, come home and collapse in his lap, all the way to sleeping in the bed naked. He’s memorized it all.

After the long antagonizing and stressful week, John always sits you down for a long bath. He massages your shoulders, using a special lotion to rub on you after the bath. But, that’s not the only gift he's giving. Before gently and lovingly pushing you to the bed, he slowly fucks the stress and irritation of you; teeth makes ensuring you stay loyal to your man.

Simon “Ghost” Riley

Simon is quick and sleek with shopping, getting and seeking foods that have high nutrition because you only deserve the best. Most foods he picks out are healthy, getting many baskets of fruits to ensure you enjoy your lunches. But when passing by the sugar aisle, he can’t help but choose a few sweets for you.

A type of house-husband you’d never expect. He’s brooding, shoulders kept tight, wearing a black mask and hoodie as he sulks in the grocery aisles, holding the colored basket. You’d think he’s stealing with a gun hidden in his back pocket. However, when in reality, he’s taking his house duties extremely seriously as he eyes for the cereal aisle.

He wakes up way early, even before you start to stir awake, even before the sun rises and goals himself to get a good workout in. Even though he’s not the same lieutenant as he was years ago– he’s not lazy, and still picks up his pace whilst jogging down the street and doing push-ups in the open garage.

At times, he wishes you could join him, and it would be fun, would it not? Having you down below, as his chest presses against yours and your flushed face being the main goal for him to continue? Or maybe, him guiding you through pull-ups, and you need his help? Oh, that’s how to make him very desperate for you in the early mornings.

Speaking of early mornings, when you rise with his gentle shaking, whispers of “good mornin’”, and his rough stubble rubbing your neck, you realize just how lucky you are. Especially with how Riley joins in, when he notices his second favorite human is up and awake.

Though, if you decide to ignore these two, covering your face and mumbling away, Simon will crawl over you, prep your face with sloppy kisses, and murmur hot and dirty words. His hand instinctively crawling down, snapping the band of your underwear, nails barely scratching at your skin whilst promising to get you all hot and messy, before forcing you out of bed.

When you leave out of that door, regardless of the morning, he ensures the house is spotless before you come home. He doesn’t listen to any music, only the occasional barks from Riley as he sprays the leather couches, doing the dishes the “old-fashioned way”, and folding laundry like it’s a race.

Most are scared of him– except for that one lady down the road. Her eyes follow Simon as if he’s a god, but he scoffs at that when she twirls her hair. You’re the real deity, he openly thinks. Of course, he shows off his pretty wedding ring, the one you got him; and somehow, Simon wishes you’d just make out with him in public, show her that he’s off limits and that he’s yours.

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick:

The type of househusband who immediately recognized that you needed to be cared for, and went forth with that promise between the marriage. You work so hard to make money for the both of you. And he’s devoted to doing whatever he can to be helpful too.

Kyle is a clean freak, which means the house is nearly spotless when you come home. Every scratch at the couch has him grunting and hands vigorously trying to rub it off. Shoes inside the house are immediately put up, and he hates rainy days; looking at you with glaring pupils as you step inside with soaked coverings. But, he loves you.

The chores in the house are easily done before the afternoon, dishes cleaned with shiny marks and the floors vacuumed. Dusting and sweeping the house with headphones on, face flushed whilst… listening to among things he’d never want you to find out.

Laundry is always last in line, as he tends to “borrow” a good deal of dirty underwear of yours, smelling them intensely. Don’t worry though, he returns them at some point.

Kyle is the definition of “wifey material food”. Every breakfast consists of incredible fried eggs, mixed with bacon and fluffy pancakes; lunch and dinner being different every day, which is nice. He usually sticks with foods you’re comfortable with, never going out of your zone, and tries his hardest to make different sizes of hearts out of the food.

Though, you never seem to notice the secret ingredient, the divine particular part where the two of you are bonded stronger. Such shame, he utters. Sometimes he wishes you’d come home early– catch him desperately adding it within the dish with utter lewd excitement.

Having you come home is the best time of the day. Waiting by the door, wearing the cactus green apron you got him years ago, with a giant smile and dinner laid out, waiting for you. By the end of dinner, you’re full; both of love, and much suffocation of affection.

All the other housewives in the area love him. They often invite him for yoga, or work-out sessions. But, he usually uses the excuse that you need him. You do, don't you?

Every Friday, he wears and shows off certain gifts he feels that you’ll love. You work so hard for the both of you, so he should show his appreciation, should he not? Wearing all types of risqué clothing, leaving desperate messages, and having lingerie hidden underneath his black vest, coloring his skin and outlining his scars, stretch marks, and moles. Sooner or later, it leads to a heavy cuddle-sex session that he knows you’ll love.

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish:

The type of househusband who uses his pretty eyes and sculpted body, to get his way. Everything from seeing you at your working office and past your lunch break, to getting free food samples, all the way to a book full of coupons and all types of gifts for half the percentage.

He’s amazing at picking food at the grocery outlet, picking up the correct portions of proper protein, vegetables, and iron. And sometimes, sneaking a few donuts, pops, and tubs of ice cream he knows you love.

Johnny always wakes you up, the alarm rarely shaking you as your beloved husband knows your schedule by heart. He ensures your breakfast and lunch are ready by 7am, smirking at the added secret ingredients that he only knows.

He’s more lenient with waking you up. Knowing how you like to sleep, beauty sleep he corrects, Johnny tries to let you snooze in as far as you can, before gently stirring you up as the sun rises in the opened window.

His arms snake around your waist, cuddling up behind you whilst pulling you into his warm chest, as he nibbles on your ear and tells you to start getting up; breakfast is served on the table with awaited love. Though, if his sweet honey voice doesn’t work at this time, maybe some extremely sloppy oral will help, no?

Johnny ensures that everybody knows you’re lovingly taken. Those hickeys and bruises on your arms, and neck show just how loveable he is. He boasts about you all the time, to his then-team, cashiers and ladies on the streets. It’s only expected you do the same, yes?

Housewives and other househusbands either love him, or envy him. He’s pretty– too alluring to just be at home and caring for duties. Most women, and men constantly flaunt at his grown-out mohawk, often slicked back into a small bun and a few scars, especially one on his head, that prominent his face.

He’s still in shape, working out in the early mornings and doing yoga with the other moms; who he regularly drinks coffee with. They love how sweet and handsome the man is, especially towards his spouse.

Anyone would be lucky to have him, and many would trade a lifetime for him. But, he’s not going anywhere, not without you or your yummy neck anytime soon.

—

Masterlist || Please support me as a writer by reblogging or commenting <3

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renphousa · 7 months

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misscinnamonroll16 · 7 months

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Brozone headcanons

In reference to my last post, Floyd has piercings in his ears, eyebrow, lip, and tongue. They have a lot of real estate in their ears so why not decorate them. So a lot of his piercings are in his ears. Floyd somehow lost the piercings he had so when he gets back, he goes to Volcano Rock City to get more bc they have lots more piercings than Pop trolls

All of the boys are biters. Affectionately and defensively. They're part rock and rock trolls often bite. So their partners often have bite marks on them from when they were intimate

Clay is not allowed to drive. He was the kid who drove the toy car around like a maniac so John never wants to see him behind the wheel of a vehicle.

Clay and John hate having their hair in their face. It bothers them. That's why John wears the goggles (upon other things) and Clay often wears a headband.

Bruce has server hand. He can balance things one handed from years of serving. He's also really good at just doing things one handed

The other bros book John a spa day, mainly the massage part he can fuckin relax. The masseuse has to bring out the big guns to get John's muscles to relax. By the end of it, John Dory feels like he's floating on a cloud. He doesn't remember ever feeling this relaxed

JD has incredibly fast reflexes. Branch goes to tap him on the shoulder and suddenly John has his arm pinned behind his back until he realizes it just Branch. It takes him time to get used to being touched suddenly bc he's so used to being on his own.

I've said it once but JD is strong, he just can't lift heavy things over his head. Clay and Bruce don't believe it until he pins them down (they startled him and he reacted defensively)

JD likes spicy food, he has an iron stomach

Clay is squeamish about vomit

JD barges into the others bedrooms without knocking. Hes done that since they were kids and has caught all of them mid change

Floyd has an insatiable sweet tooth.

Clay likes salty snacks

John Dory does that thing of telling his brothers not to do something without even looking at them. *Is about to touch obviously hot object* "Don't you dare touch that." *Immediately pulls hand away*

JD is definitely the fun uncle for his brothers kids

John Dory isn't the smartest in the means of book smarts but he is not dumb. He's learned a lot on his travels about other cultures and people. He recites facts in a way that makes him seem dumb. The brothers learn that he is in fact very smart, just seems dumb

John likes falling asleep to the sounds of rain. It's soothing and reminds him of nature.

Clay often falls asleep with a book on his face or lap.

John Dory has an incredibly good poker face. He can keep a straight face through lots of stuff. That's why it is harder for the other bros to read him, except for Bruce

Floyd sneezes multiple times in a row so when he sneezes it's best to just wait till he's done to say bless you or you may be saying it like five times or more

#trolls #brozone #trolls john dory #trolls floyd #trolls clay #trolls bruce #branch trolls #trolls headcanons #trolls hcs #trolls headcanon #brozone hcs #brozone headcanons #brozone hc

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rookthorne · 1 year

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⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐓𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐧

Few dared to cross such a dangerous man — not when they would end up on the wrong end of the barrel of Bucky’s gun, but not you. You were the one that toed the line, broke it, and it was just what he needed.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ✰ Biker!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ✰ 1.1k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ✰ Fluff, Bucky is angry and grumpy, implied spice

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 ✰ I love them. That's all I gotta say for myself.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎 ✰ The War by SYML

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕 ✰ @buckybarnesevents Hot Bucky Summer ჻჻჻ Week 10 — Massage — Masterlist

𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐁𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

The air of the clubhouse was full of tension – charged with electricity, and it felt as though if you made the wrong move, a fuse would ignite, and it would all blow to the high heavens.

It made you wonder why you decided it was a good idea to work from ‘home’ that day – especially since you couldn’t focus for more than five minutes at a time with the shouts coming from behind the closed doors of Church.

“Calm down, Buck,” Steve’s voice soothed, muffled but strong. “We’re not gettin’ anywhere if we lose our heads.”

There were some indistinct words exchanged, and then the door suddenly flew open to reveal the imposing figure of Steve. A slam echoed as the door banged against the wall.

“Rogers, I swear to fuck-“

“Sweets,” Steve implored, “please get in there and calm Buck down.” His face was drawn, taut with strain and stress — whatever the meeting had been about, it obviously wasn’t going to plan. “The bastard is gettin’ on my last nerve.”

“I��ll fuckin’ show you last nerve, you mother-“

Bucky’s voice was muffled through the wall, and you winced. He was pissed. “Okay,” you said softly, getting to your feet and abandoning your laptop and work sprawled over the table. “I’ve got it.”

“Thanks, darlin’,” Steve sighed.

Your hand squeezed the blond’s shoulder as you passed, and you made your way into Church — the room long abandoned after Bucky’s outburst of rage. And no matter how much time passed as Bucky’s Queen, you still could not shake how your heart rate picked up when you approached those double doors.

Angry grumbling could be heard over the clink of metal on wood, and you peered inside, hesitant but determined nonetheless. Bucky was at the head of the table, pacing back and forth while a deep scowl twisted his expression. A cigarette dangled from his lips.

Catching sight of you, he rolled his eyes in annoyance. “Tell that fucker to get his ass back in here, or so help me-”

“Sit down.”

Bucky stopped his pacing and stared at you. “Sit down?”

“Yes,” you replied, pointing at his seat – the leather worn and cracked, but no less intimidating. “Sit down.”

“Sweets-”

“Don’t you ‘Sweets’ me, Bucky. Get your ass in that chair before I put it there,” you grit out, carefully keeping your voice as stern as you could make it. “Go on. Sit.”

The tension in the room crescendoed to unbearable. You were just about to take a step forward when Bucky’s shoulders lowered, and he sighed heavily. “Fine.”

You let out a quiet breath. The fact that Bucky did as he was told, albeit grudgingly, was a good sign – he wasn’t too far into his rage. “Thank you,” you said softly, closing the double doors before entering the room. “Did you want to talk about it, babe?”

“No.”

“Alright,” you replied, and you took Steve’s seat. “So, I bet your blood pressure is through the roof right now-” Bucky shot you a look, but you continued on. “And I can’t have that.”

Bucky took a heavy drag from his smoke and exhaled it through his nose. “What do you propose then, your highness?”

“Being smart isn’t doing you any favours, asshole,” you teased, and Bucky raised a brow. “I’m gonna take off your kutte, and then I am going to give you a back rub.”

“That so, sweetheart?” His words were teasing as he put out his cigarette in the ashtray.

“Yep,” you chirped, “and you’re going to sit there and let me do it–Stevie needs you clear headed.”

Bucky sighed, sat back in his seat, and nodded once. With his silent permission, you stood from your seat and worked the heavy leather kutte off his shoulders, folding it neatly onto the wooden table by the gavel. You hummed a song quietly, the tune familiar and soft. Bucky’s hand rested over yours as you placed them on his broad shoulders – the black ink on his hands contrasting heavily against yours.

“Relax,” you breathed, and you kissed the back of his head. You started slow, hard circles with your thumbs that moved gradually from the top of his shoulders to his neck, then back down again. “Does it feel okay?”

“Mm, yeah,” Bucky hummed, his head lolling to the side slightly. “Love your hands, baby girl.”

You chuckled quietly and moved the pattern you were drawing on his shoulders down his back, feeling the taut muscles of his shoulder blades and upper back ripple under your fingertips. A sudden moan fell from Bucky’s lips when you applied pressure next to his spine, and you paused – that sound ingrained into your mind, and you were conditioned to react… “Don’ stop, sweetheart,” Bucky murmured, “sorry, can’t help it.”

“It’s alright,” you soothed, “I’m just collecting myself, is all.”

Bucky laughed. “Later, doll–don’t you worry ‘bout that.”

The movements of your hands became steadier as the moments passed, and each brush over his once taut muscles made you smile. There was a noticeable difference in his attitude, and he was breathing slower, deeper in his state of relaxation. “How’re you doing?” you asked quietly.

A low hum was your only answer, and he rolled his shoulders to dislodge your hands. “You keep that up, and I’ll fall asleep,” he mumbled, and he cracked his neck. “That helped, baby, thank you.” He pulled you into a deep kiss, and you returned it in earnest, smiling against his lips.

“You need your kutte back on,” you mused. Bucky nodded, and you grabbed the worn leather, still warm from Bucky’s residual body heat. “Let me.”

Bucky stood from his seat, and you slipped his kutte on, adjusting it until it sat comfortably on his shoulders. The proximity to his body while he was so relaxed made you preen quietly – having made the burden of Presidency easier to carry. His arms suddenly enveloped you, and you squeaked in surprise as he squeezed you tight. “Thank you, my love,” he whispered, kissing your forehead.

“You’re welcome,” you replied, pulling back to look at him. “Now, be nice to Stevie.”

“No promises,” Bucky laughed. “Send ‘im in.”

You stepped out of Bucky’s embrace and approached the closed doors. “I’ll see you soon, okay?” Bucky nodded in reply as he sat at the head of the table once more. “I’ll get him to bring you a drink.”

Smiling, you opened the leftmost door and looked out into the bar – Steve was nursing a glass, and looked just as tired as he was before. “Stevie,” you called, and the blond looked up from his glass. “You’re good now; he’s calm.”

“‘Bout fuckin’ time, too,” Steve replied before throwing his drink back. “And fine, I’ll bring the bastard a drink.”

“I heard that, you fucker,” Bucky yelled from behind you, and you shook your head.

Steve walked towards you, and you leaned on your toes to kiss his cheek. “Behave,” you said quietly, then continued in a louder voice, “both of you.”

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑 ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

#bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x female reader #bucky x f!reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes fluff #hotbuckysummer2023 #rookthorne's works

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hederasgarden · 2 years

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Reasonable

Summary: Jake loves to make you beg.

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x F!Reader

Word Count: 1K

Rating: Explicit, 18+ only. This is smut with no redeeming qualities. PIV sex, oral sex (m receiving - could be considered face sitting), bicep choking, soft dom vibes and Jake's smart mouth.

A/N: Thank you @whatblogisthis216, @imjess-themess and @therebeccaw for beta’ing.

Likes are lovely, but reblogs and comments keep me writing.

Masterlist ♡ Top Gun Masterlist

Every snap of Jake's hips sends the bed rocking and makes your cunt flutter around him. He feels good, so impossibly deep as he keeps his large palm pressed between your shoulder blades and pins you to the bed. At this point you feel half mindless, panting open-mouthed into the rumpled bedsheets that smell like him.

"Tell me you need this," Jake growls. When you don't answer past a low, long moan he grabs a fistful of your hair and yanks you up. Your sweaty back is pressed to his chest and his mouth finds the shell of your ear. "Speak up sweetheart or I'll stop," he warns.

"I need you, Jake, please."

You can feel him smile and then he curls his large bicep around your throat. The pressure there is delicious but not enough to cut off your ability to breathe or speak.

"What part of me do you need?" He asks, jerking up into your body. His other hand drops to your clit to strum it mercilessly.

"Your cock, I need your cock," you beg, nearly hoarse.

"Good girl," he purrs, wrapping his arm tighter around your throat and redoubling his efforts to make you come.

By the time you do, you're dizzy from the lack of air and his relentless assault on your clit. When a particularly deep thrust finally sends you over the edge, pleasure explodes across all the nerve endings in your skin. It skitters up through your stomach and blooms into something almost painfully good. Jake sees you through it without stopping, only pausing to guide you back down to your stomach before he starts fucking you again. You lay there, boneless and sated as he uses your body for his pleasure and chases his own release.

"That's it, that's it. Fuck," he whispers, pushing himself as deep as he can and stilling. Warmth floods your insides and both of you groan while he slowly fucks his cum back inside you. "You can't even take it all, can you?"

When you look over your shoulder Jake's staring transfixed at the mess between your legs. He pulls out completely and drags his fingers through your folds, stopping to tease your clit. You jump and shift away from him. He chuckles and rubs his hand down your back in a soothing gesture.

"Easy now, I'm reasonable," he says, breathing hard. "I'll let you rest before we start again."

In response to his words, your cunt throbs in anticipation. You know when Jake gets like this he's not stopping until you're crying and begging for him to.

"If you think you have it in you," you reply. "You seem pretty winded just now."

That earns you a sharp smack on your ass and you giggle until he shoves two fingers inside without warning. He massages that hidden, sponge spot and swipes his thumb over your bundle of nerves roughly. You jerk and claw at the sheets.

He tsks and presses his mouth to your ear. "You know better than to talk back to me. Almost seems like you want me to ruin you but I know that can't be true. You're a good girl."

"I a-am," you gasp, grinding yourself on his fingers.

"Mmm, gonna need you to prove it to me, darlin’.”

“I’ll do anything,” you pant, that familiar swell of pleasure coming to life inside you.

“Maybe we should give this pretty little hole a rest while I use your mouth. Give you time to think about smarting off to me again.”

“If you think that’s best,” you sigh, curling your fingers into the sheets and rolling your hips.

“You’re so agreeable like this,” he notes with a laugh.

You only sigh happily in response as he turns you over gently, carefully putting a pillow behind your head. He kisses you, long and sweet until your whole body pools into the bed. Then he smirks and straddles your chest, his thick cock bobbing in front of your mouth. It’s shiny with your combined releases. When you reach to take him in hand, he grabs your wrists and shakes his head.

“Good girls only use their mouths,” he reminds you. “Now clean me off.”

The command in his tone is almost too much and you lean forward at the same time he shifts closer to you. He tastes tart and salty and you eagerly swirl your tongue around his length, sucking him clean. Then you trace the underside of his cock, down to his balls where you take each one into your mouth gently and tease him with your tongue. That earns you a low sound that you love. When you glance up he’s white-knuckling the headboard. You suck harder, grinning when he jerks involuntarily.

“Don’t get distracted,” he pants.

You take his cock back in your mouth, loving how flushed and wrecked he looks above you. You close your eyes and concentrate on relaxing your throat, letting him slide even deeper. Jake rests his palm along the side of your face and softly strokes your forehead while you cockwarm him until you tap on his thigh and he pulls back just enough to let your lungs gather the air they need. Then he’s pressing back in again, watching you intently.

“Feeling contrite?” He asks.

Oh, you’re feeling something right about now, and squeeze your legs together in reply. He laughs until you swallow around him and then he’s groaning, thighs trembling. You know he's close but you need air too. You pull back and he withdraws. Now he's the one who looks needy, hair wild around his handsome face.

"You look like you need this more than me," you sass him, sucking on the head of his cock before he can respond. You exert enough pressure that he can only grunt, eyes fluttering. The veins of his neck strain and you hollow your cheeks, letting him rest against the back of your throat. He comes with a quiet little gasp, shaking all over. You take every drop he has to give you, even sucking at the tip of his cock again and tonguing his slit to ensure you’ve drained him completely.

"Don't worry," you tell him, licking your lips and staring up at him proudly. "I'm reasonable. I'll let you rest before we start again."

♡

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#jake seresin x reader #hangman x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin fanfiction #jake seresin x you #jake hangman seresin x you #jake seresin fic #top gun maverick fanfiction

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charlotteee013 · 1 year

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Your participation in our Labor Day Sale helped us achieve great success. Thank you for being a part of it! See you at our next sale! You can still shop here: https://go.renpho.com/labor-day-sale 🛒👋

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twodimensionalboyfriend · 6 months

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Aki spa day :))

wc: ~2.1k read time: ~8 minutes

༉‧₊˚.¸♡ master list✧ '*•༉

cw: established relationship, fem reader (GN throughout, calls her a beautiful girl at the end bc im kind of a whore for that shit), fluff, make out (i wouldn’t say it’s spicy but like it’s kinda seasoned i guess), mildly ooc aki but only because he’s experiencing happiness and idk if that man has ever known an ounce of joy,

if there are an content warnings you think i missed, please tell me so!! i’ll add them to this post and remember to add them to future ones!! :) ♡ ♡

and pls pls like and reblog and reply!! literally if you interact i will kiss you on the mouth

Being a public safety devil hunter is no one’s dream job. While the pay is pretty great and you get plenty of PTO, the death, tragedy, and destruction you see on a weekly basis is not always worth it. The only reason you’ve stuck around this long is because somehow you lucked out with your partner.

Aki.

He’s so mellow and kind and smart and he is so so handsome. These last few years with him have been some of the most difficult of your life, but he makes it manageable. The two of you have been partners for the last 3 years. You both have your eyes set on killing the gun devil, but you know that deep down, it's only Aki who believes he can actually get the job done.

Truthfully, you wished for an easy life with him. All you want is to work a usual 9 to 5 (preferably one that won’t kill you), come home, make dinner and have a quiet evening with the man you love. God, how does something so simple sound like such an unattainable fantasy?

On your days off, you like to lean in to the fantasy a little bit. You took off this Friday in return for working a mission the following Sunday, so you slept in, made a nice brunch, ran some errands and decided that you were going to do a full skin care spa day at home to relieve some stress. It’s rare that you get the chance to take time to take care of yourself, so this was definitely needed after a very long week at work. Which is what you were doing when Aki came home that evening.

You heard the door open and his post-work-day sigh, “y/n, you home?”

“In the bathroom!”

Aki walked in and couldn’t help but smile a little bit. You were in an old t-shirt of his that was just a bit too big and some lounge pants with cats on them. You had your hair clipped out of your face and were applying under-eye patches. He leaned in and kissed the top of your head. It surprises him every time that no matter what you’re doing or wearing, he still thinks you’re the most gorgeous person he’s ever seen.

“How was work today?” you asked.

“Could have been worse. Makima has Power and Denji training with Kishibe non-stop since the ambush on the devil hunting divisions, so it was nice not having them around all day,” he went on, “But I know that she knows something we don’t about the recent ambush attacks and why they targeted Denji. She’s not telling us and I need to figure out what it is and why. Oh, and we also killed a roach devil, so that was pretty gross. Just felt like a long day."

You sighed. He’s always cared too deeply. You’ve tried to tell him that he shouldn’t be so invested in the job and that he should just treat devil hunting as a paycheck ad nothing more, because at the end of the day you all know that you’re replaceable. It hurts when you see him coming home carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders for a job that would replace him in less than a week.

You step towards him, “I’m sorry that work was rough. I mean, when is it not but, you know.” Your hands reach up and pull his hair tie out, letting his hair fall down, “How about this? You shower and then change into comfy clothes, and I can give you a little massage and face treatment? Having clean skin and being taken care of always helps me unwind,” you said with a smile.

Aki thought about this. Honestly? He felt exhausted. He was hungry and was looking forward to dinner and sleeping. But you looked so cute with your under eye patches, and the idea of being pampered and loved by his partner was not at all unappealing. “Okay. That sounds.. nice, actually.”

“Yay! Okay, step one is to go take a shower and wipe off the bad energy from work today. Take your time and enjoy the warm water! I’d join you but I literally just showered,” you chuckle and finished up your routine with some lip balm. .

“I mean you can never be too clean—”

“Yeah yeah, get your ass in there,” you pushed him and he laughed softly. You never wanna go a day in your life without hearing it.

About 15 minutes later, you hear the bathroom door open and Aki’s footsteps shortly following. “Alright missy," he walked in to your shared bedroom wearing a black t-shirt and some grey sweatpants, “What’s step two?”

“You washed your face in the shower, yeah?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“‘Kay, go lay down in bed. I’ll be there in a sec!”

Puzzled yet smiling, Aki went to the bedroom. A moment later, you came in with some of your skin care. Bottles, tubes and other containers clinked with each other as you walked.

“Uhh, am I still gonna have skin after this?” he teased, “Wait what are those for?” he pointed at the strawberry barrettes in your hand.

“Clipping your hair back!" You dump your things onto your nightstand beside you, "I figured having it loose and clipped back was more comfortable after it’s gets tied back all day.”

Your hands reached up and gently pulled his bangs out of his face and clipped them back. His hair was always so soft and shiny, which you always found unfair considering he does nothing but shampoo and conditioner after tying it up all day.

Aki hummed in agreement. He loved when you played with his hair. He didn't know another person's hands could feel so good, “A correct assumption,” he smiled as you finished tucking his bangs back.

“Okay, so first I’m going to tone your skin then I’ll use some relaxing serums. I don’t know how, but you are blessed with very clear skin, so I don’t want to go crazy with cleansers and peels,” you beginning to apply a toner with some cotton rounds.

“Peels? Wait, will I actually still have skin after this?”

“Hey! Trust the process,” you laughed and bopped him in the forehead with the cotton pad.

And yet again, that little fantasy sneaks up on you from your subconscious. A life where you can treat and love your boyfriend like this. A life where you hear his laughter more often than his weeping. A life where he smiles more than he wears that stoic glower he has all the time. The way he melts and relaxes under your touch is something that is so special to you. You wished you could do it for him more often.

“Okay now I’m gonna use some niacinamide for any discoloration you have,” you say as you drop some serum on his face

“Do I have discolora—” he gasped, “That stuff is cold!”

“Relax you baby, and no you don’t because life is very unfair,” you felt him chuckle as you began massaging the product into his face. His skin was soft under your gentle hands and you could feel his breathing slowing as he let himself ease into your touch. It felt nice to take your time and love him like this. Life is always so fast and intense for Aki. He deserved to have these slow and soft moments.

You tapped his face gently, "Time for eye patches, like the ones I had earlier.”

“What are they for?”

“The ones I’m gonna put on you are just hydrating with a little bet of retinol for any fine lines. And while those sit I’ll tweeze your brows and depuff your face with a face roller!” you say as you crack open the patches.

“And you do this every night??” Aki asked.

“Oh god no, this is like the relaxation treatment I do when I get a day when I finally have nothing to do. I wish I had the time and energy to do this every day,” you joked. “Okay eye patches are on! Now sit up, because I don’t trust myself to not fuck up your eye brows while you’re upside down.”

“Yeah, I don’t think I trust you either,” he grunted as he sat up.

Once he was right side up, you began to position yourself sat in front of him but you yelp when he pulls you into his lap by surprise. You felt your heart speed up a bit when you felt his groin press into yours and his hands settled on your hips. You stutter, “woaHA-Aki! Uhm, am I..” you swallowed, “Uhm— are you comfortable?”

“I feel just fine,” He said in an innocent tone, but the look in his eyes said otherwise. Aki loved to pick on you like this. It’s rare that you stumble or get flustered out in the field or with all your friends, and he thinks you’re so cute when you’re a little worked up, “Are you comfortable, y/n?”

“You think you’re so funny, huh?” you asked.

Fine, two can play that game.

You grabbed his face and pulled him towards your lips. The way his mouth instantly opened for your tongue turned you on even more and you rolled your hips into his. The groan he made was so sexual it made you shiver. Your favorite thing about loving Aki is the way it feels like he savors every touch you two share. Every time his mouth and tongue move against yours, it made you feel loved and wanted. Though he always gives you that feeling no matter what he did.

His grip on your hips tighten as you ran your fingers through his hair. You smiled into the kiss as you felt him get harder underneath you when you pulled on it. Gotcha.

You slow the momentum and then give him one last sweet kiss, “Okay, time to start on your brows!”

He had a buffering look on his face as he realized what you meant, “W-wait, c’mon— That’s not fair!”

You began to work, “I don’t understand what you mean? Thought we were just being silly? Just playing? Joshing around if you w—”

“Alright missy, you’ve made your point, very funny ha ha now finish up my face.” But his smile gave away what his tone tried to hide.

And so, for the next few minutes you hummed some song stuck in your head while Aki occasionally hissed as you tweezed.

“Okay all done!” You said as you plucked the last hair.

“So? How do I look?”

“Well, not everyone’s can look as good as mine but you’re definitely doing better than before!” you giggled as you handed him a mirror.

“Very funny,” he looked at his brows, “Oh woah, they look super clean.”

“The power of facial grooming. I’m gonna finish you off with some moisturizer and your skin will be free of toxins.”

“What toxins?”

“I don’t know, ask the influencers, because apparently our bodies are full of them,” you said, applying the cream to his face as he chuckled. And yet again, you wished life was a little bit different.

Aki, on the other hand, loves spending time with you. He would do almost anything if it made you happy, and didn’t think about why until recently. You had this weird ability to make it seem like everything was going to be okay. He wants to keep having these moments with you to help drown out the sounds of everything else in his life. Aki realized, up until now, he was just surviving through whatever life threw at him, but with you he wants to actually live through it. He wants to take you out and enjoy the evening. Actually cook and taste good food, not just tolerate whatever gave him enough to keep going. He doesn’t have to just put up with the people in his life. Maybe... and just maybe... Aki can actually love and care for someone again.

He knows this line of work is going to kill him in a few years, and that Aki has goals that he just can't give up on. He doesn’t even think he deserves to live a good life with you, truthfully. Yet he’s decided to be selfish and try to have it anyways

He snaps out of his thoughts, “What are you craving for dinner?”

“Pork onigiri?”

“Pork onigiri you will have,” he leaned in for a kiss and said, “I love you very much. Thank you for always taking care of me, beautiful girl” he kissed you again.

You pulled away, “Of course. I’ll always take care of you; I love you too.”

He gave you one last peck before getting up and walking to the kitchen for dinner.

#aki hayakawa #hayakawa aki #aki hayakawa x reader #chainsaw man #csm #aki hayakawa x y/n #csm x reader #fluff #csm fluff

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bloodiedrogue · 2 years

Text

YOU’VE GOT MY BODY, FLESH AND BONE

PAIRINGS: Loki Laufeyson & Female Reader

SUMMARY: After Loki triggers a security breach, you suddenly find yourself participating in a dangerous game of cat and mouse. DARK FIC, 18+ MINORS DON’T INTERACT

WORD COUNT: 4,226

AUTHOR’S NOTE: The votes are in! Primal kink won my little kink poll so here you go you horny little bastards! (Also if you’re wondering where the title comes from it’s from this amazing song by Sleep Token!)

MASTERLIST

When the alarm goes off for the third time this week you sincerely debate whether or not to kill him. It wouldn’t be that hard, would it? Sure, he’s a skilled magic user and wicked knife wielder but you have strengths too, right? You’re flexible and smart and know at least four different types of hand-to-hand combat! Plus, it’s not like the man would win in a gunfight… what with the knife and everything. Honestly, it’d be easy as—

“What are you doing?” Nat’s voice pulls you from your thoughts. Already she’s standing at your doorway, holstering her gun and tying back her hair, staring at you with annoyed eyes.

“Mentally preparing my next move,” you yell, pushing yourself off the edge of your bed with such uncharacteristic vigour it makes her laugh.

“Oh please, you’re just pissed off because he woke you up,” she calls back.

You roll your eyes but ultimately agree, considering she’s right. You are pissed off that he decided to wake you up because this was the one morning you were guaranteed to have off. The one morning where no one was allowed to wake you up for missions or meetings or any other inconveniently early tasks SHIELD often required.

(Well, so long as an emergency security breach didn’t happen… fuck you, Loki.)

“Steve wants us on the quinjet in ten, think you can handle that without my help?”

“Obviously.“

Even in the dimly lit room, you can see Nat’s smirk at your reply —the way the edge of her top lip quirks up as she watches you shuffle through your room in search of a pair of pants. It’s the kind of smirk that’s often accompanied by at least some semblance of warmth or kindness. The kind of smirk that makes you laugh and roll your eyes in fake annoyance.

So when you see this one and how weirdly smug it looks, it immediately stops you in your tracks. Mid-search, you freeze and stare, examining the way Nat’s face suddenly contorts in on itself; a glow of green flashing across your vision, blinding you as you raise your hand to cover your face.

“What the f—“

You’re cut off by that familiar dark chuckle —the one that often keeps you up at night if you think too long about it. Attached to it, a pale face stands out in the darkness, its features watching you as you drop your hand and narrow your eyes. “I swear to god if you’ve come to take me hostage or something I’ll call Bruce.”

Loki clicks his tongue and shakes his head, the grin across his face only widening as he quickly strides to your side. “You think that brute can stop me?”

“I mean, he has before, hasn’t he?” You grin.

Instead of responding he merely scoffs and circles your frame, inching closer and closer until you can feel his breath hitting the side of your neck in hot, wet puffs, sending shivers down your spine.

“Yes but that was before.”

Before? What the fuck does he mean by before? And if that was before then what’s after? Is this after? If so, what was before after but after before?

You can barely think with the constant ringing in your ears. The endless whoop, whoop, whoop settling inside your head like a cultic mantra, penetrating your eardrums aggressively.

Stressfully, you blink and slowly bring a hand to the side of your head, squinting in pain as you massage your temple and try to forget that Loki’s standing beside you. That Loki’s grinning and chuckling and watching you like a hungry wolf about to pounce on its prey.

“Have you always been this distracted?”

“Hm?”

“You’re distracted,” he snaps, paraphrasing his previous sentence.

“Am I?”

Moving even closer, Loki reaches out to graze your neck, the base of his knuckles moving in slow lines up and down the edge of your throat. “Yes, very,” he says then, leaving you unsure how to respond.

So, instead, you swallow hard, feeling his hand continue its ministrations —each finger carving line after careful line across the goosebumps that have started to bloom like flowers in an open field.

Except, instead of an open field you’re in your darkened bedroom, trapped against the space in front of your closet. Behind you, all there is to defend yourself is a few pieces of fabric and some coat hangers. Maybe a shoe or two if you’re quick enough to bend down and grab them. (You’re not.)

“Loki, I–“

Because of the constant ringing that blares through the compound, you've become increasingly disorientated, your mind practically swimming through molasses as you try and come up with ways to escape. For example, maybe you could try going for the throat. One swift punch could easily debilitate him long enough to rush for the knife underneath your mattress or even the gun in your dresser. Or you could claw his face —shoot for the eyes so that while you’re running he can’t even see. Or maybe—

“Oh, darling, you really are quite adorable when you’re like this.”

“Like what?” you snap, almost defensively as you feel his hand begin to move, its previous position ghosting your skin as it eventually settles at the base of your throat. This time palm down.

“Confused.” The tips of his fingers press down, applying the littlest amount of pressure to the side of your esophagus. “Helpless, even.”

His words leave you a bit lightheaded as you turn away, trying your best to do another quick sweep of your room through the darkness. Something easier said than done considering it’s the middle of the night and the light switch is on the opposite side of the room, taunting you like an unreachable beacon of hope.

In fact, the only light coming from the window behind you is a scarce amount of the city skyline, creating just enough brightness to showcase Loki’s face and how it focuses solely on you.

“I’m not helpless.”

“Of course you’re not,” he taunts, his voice soft and breathy and barely audible over the alarm that continues to go on and on and on until eventually, it feels like it’s become a part of you.

In the background, the endless sound not only yells and screams but also manages to crash into every possible thought that makes its way to the forefront of your mind. The painful process buries you further into Loki’s punishing arms which slowly begin to snake around your waist.

Against you, still standing at your side, he’s begun slithering like a snake across your skin, palming your neck and hip so softly that the space between your thighs can’t help but ache for something more —something harmful and sinister. Something you know he can give you.

“Loki, what are you doing?” Your voice is barely above a whisper now, its tone nervous and sore and ultimately filled with yearning despite knowing what a terrible idea it is to crave something like this.

Something like him.

“I don’t know, darling, perhaps you should tell me.”

Swallowing hard, you feel his hand fully around your throat now, each digit gripping your skin with such desperation you find yourself reaching out to support him, knowing that he needs this. Knowing that, despite what this may look like, his hand around your throat means something entirely different from what it actually is.

“You’re trying to escape?” you offer, knowing that’s a lie because if he were pulling some magical escape trick he would’ve been gone by now.

He tuts, shaking his head and moving close. “Care to give it another go?”

His breath fans across the expanse of your cheek, dusting it in a heat that radiates down to the base of your belly. All over you can feel yourself begin to burn. Everything suddenly hot and uncomfortable, your skin no longer feeling like your own as he pinches the space just above the waistband of your underwear, gnawing at it as if it were his teeth.

Which you can see grinning. Even through the darkness, you can see them big and wide, each one moving to push aside the lips that contain them.

Across his face, he’s got a look you’ve never seen before. Something resembling desire but also ruin.

It makes you wish you were simultaneously closer and farther. A wish you’re well aware hardly makes sense considering, at this moment, Loki is the enemy. Loki is the opposition. Loki is the hostile wolf in the open field watching you like a lamb who’s already been offered to the slaughter.

A slaughter that’s now opening its doors to you in the form of Loki’s mouth, which has begun its descent toward your ear. “C’mon pet, give it another go,” it says, loud and clear and full of tease.

Biting your lip, you try to drown out all the sensations around you then —all the ringing and breathing and guilty, glorious touching. All of it carefully moves behind you, drifting into a space that keeps it contained long enough for you to close your eyes and steady your breath before eventually deciding it’s the throat you’ll go for.

Then, it all happens in an instant. Quickly you turn on your heel while shoving him back, groaning at the sudden lack of contact as you reach out and knuckle him in the throat. As soon as your skin makes contact you hear him gag at the sudden increase in pressure, his body half crumbling in on itself just as you book it through the doorway, not even bothering to close the door behind you.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” you repeatedly swear under your breath, moving blindly through the halls towards Tony’s safe room, ignoring the way your head pounds and your calves ache and how you can hear Loki screaming behind you, the slapping of his shoes picking up speed as you clumsily slide around the corner making contact with the wall.

“Running away from the inevitable are we?” His voice echoes in time with the alarm, ebbing and flowing in and out of your ears so painfully that you find yourself groaning as you come up to the safe room door.

“FRIDAY, cue emergency protocol number eight,” you yell once you’re there, slamming your hand against the touchpad in front of you, praying to whoever will listen as you close your eyes and breathe and wait for FRIDAY’s voice to confirm your demand and open the door.

So when she doesn’t, you find yourself beginning to panic —the inside of your chest pounding like a broken metronome, its speed increasing every single millisecond you spend bashing your palm against the touchpad and screaming out to let you in. To keep you safe and warm and away from the dangerous body that you know is rounding the corner with boiling blood and sharpened teeth.

Because without even looking you can feel Loki’s eyes move towards you, his pupils dilating to the point where you can’t even remember what the colour of his irises are. Are they green or blue or perhaps a mix? you think, trying your best to settle your nerves as you give the touchpad one last go and mutter the magic words.

“FRIDAY, cue emergency—”

But before you can even finish he’s on you, the ditch of his arm wrapping around your throat. Roughly, he brings you into his chest, your back suddenly flush with his front as he grunts and drags you away.

Against him, you grit your teeth and struggle for freedom, every limb you have lashing out as he laughs in your ear and tugs you close enough to press his cheek against your own.

“You really thought you could escape?”

As he speaks into the plush of your cheek, you feel your chest begin to swell with something new. Something bordering on surrender. As if this feeling deep inside of you has accepted the primal urge to give in and let Loki take you however he wants.

Suddenly, your body begins to settle into this new position of power, your limbs slowly failing in their struggle to control and instead relinquish.

“Why are you doing this?” you ask, your voice barely audible over the continuous siren that’s suddenly heard above the beating of your heart.

“Because I can,” he says. “Because I want to watch you lose.”

You’re only partly certain of what he means by lose, figuring he means it in the literal sense. He wants to see you submit —to watch you bow before him by any means necessary. It’s embedded in his DNA to do as such. Being a God, it’s his job to crave power and submission like one breathes air. It’s his birthright. His promise to the world to be forever above no matter the cost.

And at the moment your senses cave into such ideas. Your body slumps back in exhaustion, your chest rising and falling in time with Loki’s breath which continues to waft along your skin. Quickly, your extremities begin to work against you, moving to twist your body around so that you’re face to face, sharing the same space, pretending like it’s okay that the man before you is suddenly leaning in, eyes half-lidded, grin ablaze.

When your lips touch it’s like you’re being eaten alive, the tips of Loki’s teeth nipping at your bottom lip as you try to pull away. Practically beneath him, you feel his hands move to cup your face, each palm gripping the underside of your chin with fanned-out fingers as he drinks you in like water, sucking and licking up any breath you manage to take in.

Because unlike you, he’s hungry. Desperate and yearning —his wanting mouth signalling the rest of his body to keep you close no matter the consequence. Tightly, he’s gripping onto you for dear life, manoeuvring you into positions you’re too exhausted to fight against.

Which causes you to end up on the floor somehow, belly up, shirt dishevelled across your suddenly exposed skin. Above you, Loki grins and lets his hands begin to roam, moving to coat the softness of your skin with the roughness of his palms. “I’m glad you’re beginning to understand your purpose, pet,” he practically laughs, his left hand finding its home at the base of your throat while he uses the other to undo his trousers.

An act that sends you into another phase of panic, realizing what’s to come. What’s bound to happen based on your reactions.

Because really, there are only two ways this can go. You can either fight and most likely die trying given your position or you can succumb to his desires and hope to God he’s gentle.

“Loki…”

Despite the loudness of everything around you, the only thing you hear at that moment is the zip and the shuffle of his pelvis moving to release his cock, followed by the hollow groan that follows once he’s free. Then, still stationed above, you feel him lower himself further onto you, using his knees to part your legs.

“Look at you,” he says. Revelling in his work and the way he quickly grabs your wrists and positions them above your head. “Look at how powerless you look.”

Unable to fight the urge to defy him, you merely press your lips together in a thin line, trying somehow to convey your distaste without speaking.

“Your attempt was admirable, I’ll admit. Not many would even try to do what you just did.” As he speaks, he readjusts the both of you, nudging your wrists into one single hand before using the other one to glide across your covered slit, pulling from you a long breath.

“That’s it. See what it feels like to give in? See how good it can feel.”

Again, he skims that same spot —the one that makes you twitch beneath his grasp— lingering at its centre, sending your desire over the edge.

In an instant, all of your previous thoughts of escaping such futile endings quickly vanish with the air that exits your lungs. And every belief that you could win this fight is crushed beneath the pressure of his hands that suddenly push against the fabric of your underwear, leaving you vulnerable to his wants. To his need to smirk and push the cloth aside, exposing you to the open air and his aching cock.

“Loki, please,” you beg then, unsure because despite the fear swelling inside of you, the dull pulse between your legs feels like it’s beginning to take over. Growing in pressure, it makes you start to double back on that feeling of submission. That strange inclination to let him do whatever it is he wants to do.

“Please what, pet?” he asks, but again, you say nothing —feeling that small amount of fear taking over your mouth as it cracks open at the presence of his fingers ghosting you all over again.

“I hope you know that I’m being polite in asking you what you want.”

Swallowing hard, you nod, knowing he’s telling the truth. He’s not normally this giving. Usually, he’s harsh and vile and wolflike, taking what’s his whenever the time’s right. So for him to grant you such pleasantries is truly a gift.

“Why me?”

Without missing a beat you feel him prod your opening, coasting across the expanse of your sex in long, drawn-out motions. Carefully, he stares at you with anticipation, watching the way you suddenly struggle beneath him, your wrists and legs wiggling to break free from the pleasure.

“I like how weak willed you are,” he says, pushing into you without hesitation, his body falling flush with yours as he roughly pistons into you.

At first, it’s a shock, feeling him inside of you like this. It’s painfully intimate. The appearance of him taking space in such a private area leaves you contently breathless despite knowing that it’s wrong.

Because him and you, lying on the floor against your will as he ruts into you with all the force in the world is something you know you should hate. But as he grips your wrists and steadies himself with a newfound hand on your hip, you can’t help but relish in such a feeling. In the pleasure, he simultaneously takes and gives each time his pelvis snaps against you like a rubber band.

It makes you want to scream. To beg for more. To reach out and touch him and tell him that everything leading up to this point has been long since forgotten.

“Look at you,” he practically gasps, the edges of his lips turning up to show how pleased he is. “Look at how fucked are you.”

Even without seeing it yourself, you understand what he means. On the floor, your body is exposed to him in such a demeaning way that the only way to describe it is fucked. Deliciously and undeniably fucked. No longer a body of flesh and bone and teeth willing to bite. No, instead you’re merely a vessel meant for him to suck his pleasure out of and it’s something that should frighten you —this idea of being used.

Deep down, you should defy it in any way you can, yet lying here, feeling the continuous push and pull of Loki’s cock dragging across your inner walls completely erases such ideas. The budding pleasure inside makes it difficult to think of anything other than your desired release and what it might feel like to share such a moment.

“Loki?” You speak his name not expecting an answer, knowing he’s already given you more than you deserve.

“What is it, pet?” In between words, he plunges into you, brutally increasing the pace as your eyes flutter shut and your wrists once again beg to break free.

“Touch, please.” It’s the only thing you can muster up the energy to say, the feeling of him continuously filling you up becoming too much to bear as your chest rises and falls, struggling to keep up with the pumping of your heart.

“Touch, she says,” he replies with a laugh, continuing to move in and out, listening to the way you moan; watching the way you writhe beneath his tight grasp, desperate for further release. “Touch what?”

You’re too out of breath to respond with words so instead, you just whine, looking at him with tormented eyes that you know don’t properly convey what you want, causing him to laugh and fuck and clasp your hip with greedy hands.

“If you want something you have to ask.”

Another gift, you think. Another undeserved offering placed at your feet.

Just thinking about it makes you hum with delight, granting you a moment of clarity just long enough to ask him if you can touch him. If, instead of him merely taking what it is he wants, you could have the opportunity to give it to him.

“You want to give me what’s already mine?”

You bite your lip and nod, feeling him suddenly begin to slow down the pace at which he moves inside of you. A lack of sensation you wish to curse out of existence.

“You want me to grant you the allowance of touch?”

You nod again, bucking your hips ever so slightly to try and nudge him to move faster. To push harder. To fill you up with everything he could ever want because you’re his now. He owns you.

“Normally I don’t grant such pleasantries but for you perhaps I could make an exception.”

Your thighs tighten around his cock as he speaks, your excitement practically driving you over the edge as you feel the hand around your wrists begin to loosen their grip.

“However, first you need to prove yourself,” he says, drawing from within you an annoyed breath once he completely pulls out of you.

“How?” At this point, you’ll do anything he asks.

“I want you to touch yourself as I fuck you.”

Normally such an idea would leave you squirming in discomfort but right now you’re too determined so you merely just nod and breathe, watching as Loki’s hand fully leaves and finds purchase on your other hip, waiting for you to begin.

Then without missing a beat you begin to touch yourself. Running your hands along your stomach, you start by warming yourself up, tickling the base of your torso with the lightest of touches before dragging them up to play with the fabric of your sleep shirt, watching as Loki licks his lips and tightens his grip. On your hips, you can feel his digits digging holes into your flesh, creating new geysers of pleasure you’ll surely admire later as you push your hands beneath your shirt.

Despite the chill of the hallway, your skin is almost too hot to touch, your hands moving delicately against the mounds that sit there now on full display. All across your skin goosebumps begin to form, each textured bump jumping out to show Loki just what it is he’s doing to you. How good you’re making him feel as he violently drives into you, sending your soul into another wave of euphoria.

His cock, once again filling you up, pushes further than ever before. Against your deepest point, you can feel him pounding that same spot, trying his best to break the backdrop with such aggression you cry out.

Tears begin to collect at the corner of your eyes as he moves, his body taking pleasure while delivering pain. Every part of you is screaming for him to stop —to pull back and slow down, but deep down you know he won’t so you just touch yourself gently, rubbing the peaks of your breasts with soft hands in hopes of evening everything out.

Too much, you want to tell him but instead, you groan through closed eyes and open lips and anxious hands that massage your chest as you feel one of his hands unclasp your hip and move toward your neck.

“Shhhh,” he warns then, taking hold of your throat with unrestrained power, applying just enough pressure to leave you conscious yet lightheaded.

Quickly, your vision begins to fill with inklings of white light. Your mind screaming at you for release —for freedom and safety while you continue to step over the threshold of danger, praying to the God of Mischief that your perversity will be granted with the pleasure you so desperately crave.

“Fuck, you take me so well.”

It’s the last thing you hear before your body begins to erupt. Before your head explodes and your cunt starts to quiver with that familiar burn that surrounds the end of Loki’s cock. All over your skin begins to tingle, the presence of Loki’s hand exiting your throat and moving to cup your face as he leans over to bury himself within your neck. At that point all you can feel is your insides pulsing, twitching around him as you hold your chest and close your eyes, drinking in the way Loki’s lips slot themselves across your throat, suckling the newfound wound brought on by his possessive hands.

Inside of you, you quickly feel him follow suit, his cock coating your insides with cum as he groans into your skin, trying his best to ground himself through the orgasm that rips through him.

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