CallistoNeith

[tomshiddles]

Most purpose is more burden than glory. You just choose your burden. And trust me, you never wanna be the guy who avoids it ’cause you can’t live with the burden.

[mjolnirswriststrap]

Dumb Viking Thor

Thor x maid!Reader, Steve x maid!Reader

Summary: Deep grunts filled the bathroom. Cleaning supplies strewn all over the floor. Your life flashed before your eyes when the stall door jerked open, on your knees scrubbing the toilet is how he found you. “Mr. Odinson.” You say, jumping up.

Warnings: PLEASE CONSUME AT YOUR OWN RISK! Explicit ‼️ 18+ Material, Noncon, Rough Sex, Rape themes, Female receiving pen, Anal, subtle cream pie.

Word Count: 2,039 Masterlist

You meticulously mixed chemicals, being sure not to create mustard gas. Your first week working as a cleaner for Stark Industries left you with zero training. The lead janitor was too occupied with her own doings to teach you how to properly clean certain things. It took you double to time to clean the bathrooms, your coworkers knew it, so when you’d disappear for hours, they never questioned it.

You’d been in the men’s bathroom for almost an hour already. The bristles of the brush scrubbed the tile around the toilet, the sound being the only thing heard in the enclosed space. That and your deep breathing, exhaustion filling you after a long day of work, coupled with the ever growing redness on your sore knees. Your shoulders burned from scrubbing, and you were so focused on just finishing so you could clock out; finally go home.

You never heard anyone enter the bathroom, you were too focused. You only noticed you were no longer alone when the door to the stall gets pushed open. You jump up, not out of fear but by being startled. When you eject yourself from your kneeled position, you spin in place, turning to face whoever stumbled upon you. You’re relieved to see Thor Odinson, standing there with a calculating look.

“Mr. Odinson, forgive me, I will be finished in a second.” You say, assuming he wouldn’t want a woman in the men’s restroom while he uses it. Offering a smile out of curtesy, you hold it for a second too long, even after you don’t see any amusement appear on his face. You clear your throat, quickly returning to scrubbing the stall. One hand held the disinfectant while your other held the brush. You tried rushing, feeling his growing presence behind you.

“Just gotta wipe it down now, sir.” You give him reassurance that you’d be gone in a second. But that second never comes. You move to step around him, reaching for your cleaning cart that held the microfiber cleaning cloths. You’re too focused on hurrying and getting out that you don’t take note of how silent the gods being. How observant he is, watching every move you make.

Your hands were full, you couldn’t defend yourself. In an instant they were empty, the brush clattering to the floor. The spray bottle cracking upon impact, bleach spilling all over the floor in a growing puddle. Your hands were now pressed to the mirror of the sink vanity. Your cheek pressed there too, your eyes searched behind you for Thor, seeing the look on his face finally told you what you needed to know. He wasn’t even here, this is primal, instinctual, animalistic.

“Mr. Odinson, you know this isn’t allowed.” You try to calmly remind him. You were no fool, you knew the strength he held, you knew he was a god. You knew your position, you were nobody, a maid at best. You should be thinking of every reason to be grateful for this, instead you’re gasping for air as he presses it out of you, his body weight leaning on your from behind.

Thor doesn’t respond, he knows what he’s doing, whether or not it’s wrong is up for debate. What else was he supposed to do? He saw a woman on her knees and felt like he needed to do something about it. You’re just a maid, no one would even know, he is the god of thunder and a king, any woman is his if he wishes. He couldn’t even recall how many maids and ladies in waiting on Asgard who carried his bastard children.

To Thor, he was doing the right thing. Using the resources provided to him. And how rude would he be if he disregarded Starks resources. That’s why he doesn’t rip your uniform, he pushes it up around your hips, being sure to pull your tights down in one swift movement.

Your hands stayed planted on the mirror you had shined less than an hour ago. You don’t know why, but you knew better than to fight back, you knew better than to move. In any other position maybe you’d be flattered he’d took an interest in you; but this was…less than personal, it was just him getting his rocks off. You don’t doubt if it had been Rose or Serenity; the same sequence of events would’ve occurred.

You hear the sound of leather and metal clasps rustling behind you, and you close your eyes, numbing yourself for what’s about to happen. You thought you could do it, go limp, deaf, blind to what’s happening to you; the second the thick tip of his cock slid past the barrier your thighs created, you were dropping your hands from the mirror, reaching behind you to brace yourself.

You don’t understand that it’s an impossible feat. You could never brace for the searing pain that blossoms between your legs. You couldn’t even breathe, you were dry, but he didn’t seem to care, pushing past that barrier too. You felt your sensitive skin stretch around him, but when the relentlessness of him trying to shove himself to the hilt comes, you feel yourself tearing.

When you feel the tuft of hair at the base of his cock brush against your ass you know he’s bottomed out. You can’t feel it, after the first tear; your lower body clocked out. Only when his big hands wrap around your love handles, you can feel how gentle his hands are. No matter the pain he was inflicting, it was like he knew his hands would break your bones, bruise your skin.

He’s even has the curtesy to let you have some semblance of adjusting to him. You wanna laugh, but you can’t, the timeline of events only happening in less than two minutes. Your brain isn’t processing and comprehending what’s happening. Your brain was turning into complete mush, you were trying to convince yourself of two things; you didn’t want this, and you desperately wanted it. You were confused.

The confusion only intensifying when he leans down and brushed the hair from your shoulder, whispering behind your ear. “Good little maid.”. That shouldn’t have had the effect that it did, but here you were, pushing your body back slightly at the praise. Like you were doing something right by not protesting. You were good for not fighting back. Deserving because of your meekness.

He groaned when he felt you push back against him, knowing it meant you wanted it, even if you didn’t say it. But in the end, he didn’t really care what you thought, you were doing your job. Your duty.

He doesn’t notice the fog on the mirror from your shallow breaths, or the fact that you’re wet has mixed with blood from being torn. He just starts pumping in and out of you at a rhythmic pace. You wish you could feel it, but your body is still fighting to some degree, refusing to let you or him relish in this moment.

His pace picks up, causing you to raise yourself on your tiptoes, giving him as much access as he needs, making it easier for him to slam back into you every time he torturously pulls out to admire how you swallow him, the pink folds wrapping around him perfectly, like a set of lips, sucking him in.

He had been relatively silent, little grunts and that tiny comment of praise earlier, so it shocks you when he lets out a high pitched whine. “Fuck, stay just like that.” He exclaims, feeling the building tension in his balls come to an eruption. He mercilessly claps his stomach into your ass cheeks, the slapping sound echoing off the walls, and that’s it for you, finally giving up whatever you were holding onto.

Your pussy gushes over him, and you let out a strangled wail, “Please.” You beg, you knew your hole was obliterated, ruined, stretched and full, the only thing that could benefit you now was if you got to cum too. You heard him chuckle behind you. Actually laugh at your plea. As if you had no room to even speak and this was all his doing, for his pleasure.

Tears finally fill your eyes, but not for your situation, it’s over cumming. Your desperation becoming too much, you start rocking on your tiptoes, finding a friction that pleasured you so you could make yourself cum. Thor doesn’t seem to mind, glad you’re finally participating. He’s too close to care truly, the new found tightness of your walls desperately clenching down on him, was rushing him towards his undoing.

You’re no where near close when you hear the bathroom door swing open, cutting through the thick air and letting a cold wind sweep through the tiled room, the tears and sweat on your face drying instantly. You can’t even look who it is, the shame of being caught not finding you.

Thor of course carries no shame for what he’s doing, he does register the person, and their bewildered look, laughing again but not stopping his movement. “What the fuck are you doing?” You hear an angry Brooklyn accent. Your vision wasn’t completely there as you roll your head to face the door, your eyes finding Steve Rogers standing there, his shoulders rising and falling as his breath picks up.

You could just make out the confusion, the disgust, the shame on the Captains face as he looks at the cleaning supplies strewn around the floor, lifting his boot to see that he’d stepped in the spilled bleach. He places it back down and lets out a scoff or a huff, you were too delirious to tell.

“I am taking advantage of what’s been provided. You’re the one being disrespectful.” Thor says with no humor in his voice. He had slowed his movement, standing behind you pressed fully into you. With the captains invasion, your senses are slowly coming back, the feeling returning to your lower body. A burning sensation is slowly building, the tiny rips in your skin drawing attention from your pain receptors.

“Please…” You mutter again, but for a different reason, it was for mercy, mercy that maybe you’d be saved from this by Steve. But as your eyes watch his hand find the door handle, pushing it closed behind him, any ounce of hope you had in Steve was gone. He was slowly turning into that silent shark Thor was when he found you cleaning.

“Move.” Is the only command you hear from Steve before Thors slipping out of you. You could’ve crumbled to the floor the second he released you, but a new set on hands found your hips, raising you back up on your tiptoes. “Shhh, you’re doing such a good job.” Steve praises and you can’t comprehend what he’s doing till he’s pushing into your other hole, filling your ass up. He was much smaller than the inhuman god, but it didn’t take away from the soul wrenching feeling of him ass fucking you.

You were screaming, the pain Steve was inflicting completely different than what Thor had done. He didn’t take long to spill inside of you, if you weren’t in such a vulnerable position, you could’ve laughed at him for how short he lasted, you expected more from him. But he’s probably never done anything like this before, the taboo of it causing him to lose control, the explosion coming from how dirty it made him feel.

When he slid out of you with a grotesque wet sound you almost let out a sigh of relief. Your body meeting the sink as he lets your hips down. The almost sigh is caught in your throat when you hear him say the words “Now you can finish.” to Thor. He buckles up his jeans and leaves the bathroom, not coming to your rescue at all, he didn’t even give you a second glance. You can only hear Thor’s amused hum as he comes back behind you, not relenting on you. If only you cleaned faster, then maybe Rose or Serenity would’ve noticed how long you’ve been cleaning the men’s restroom, maybe they would’ve come to your aid.

[bittersuitee]

Husband | Sebastian Stan x reader

Summary: Your husband Sebastian comes home tired and late, and punishes you with his dick for not serving him as your wife.

Warnings: Explicit smut, M/F, dom/sub dynamics, rough oral sex, spanking, spit kink, precum play, gagging with clothing, alcohol use, smoking, possessive language, 18+ only.

Wattpad: bornbluevans

The apartment was quiet, save for the faint hum of the city outside, the distant honk of a car cutting through the evening stillness. The living room was dimly lit, the soft glow of a single lamp casting shadows across the worn leather couch and the cluttered coffee table. The air carried a faint trace of lavender from a candle you’d lit earlier, but it was quickly overtaken by the sharp, unmistakable scent of whiskey and cigarette smoke as the front door swung open. Sebastian Stan stumbled in, his broad frame filling the doorway, his dark hair slightly disheveled, his leather jacket hanging loosely over a black t-shirt. His blue eyes, usually sharp and playful, were glazed, a telltale sign he’d had a few drinks after the long day on set.

He kicked the door shut behind him, the sound echoing in the small space, his boots heavy on the hardwood floor. “Fuckin’ hell,” he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair as he tossed his keys onto the counter with a clatter. His voice was rough, tinged with exhaustion and the slight slur of alcohol. He leaned against the wall, his tall frame slouching slightly, his eyes scanning the apartment before landing on you, curled up on the couch with a book.

“Hey,” he said, his voice low, gravelly, carrying a mix of irritation and expectation. “You got anything to eat? I’m fuckin’ starving.” His words were sharp, his Brooklyn accent thicker than usual, the alcohol loosening his tongue.

You looked up, your heart giving a small lurch at the sight of him—rugged, a little rough around the edges, the faint scent of smoke clinging to him like a second skin. “I… I didn’t get a chance to make anything,” you admitted, your voice soft, hesitant. “It’s been a long day, Seb. I was going to order something, but—”

“Order something?” he cut you off, his voice rising, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. “You’ve been home all fuckin’ day, and you couldn’t even cook for your husband?” He straightened, his eyes narrowing, a mix of frustration and intoxication sharpening his tone. “I’m out there bustin’ my ass on set, dealin’ with directors who don’t know shit, and you can’t even throw together a damn meal?”

Your cheeks flushed, a pang of guilt twisting in your chest. You set the book down, standing to meet his gaze, your hands fidgeting at your sides. “Seb, I’m sorry,” you said, your voice steady but soft, trying to diffuse the tension. “I got caught up with some things. Let me make it up to you, okay? Come sit down, you look exhausted.”

Sebastian’s jaw tightened, his eyes flicking over you, assessing, the alcohol making his temper flare but also softening his edges. “Yeah, I’m fuckin’ exhausted,” he muttered, shrugging off his jacket and tossing it onto a chair. “Fine. Whatever.” He moved toward the couch, his steps heavy, his body radiating a restless energy as he dropped onto the cushions, spreading his legs wide, his hands resting on his thighs.

You hesitated, then stepped closer, your voice gentle. “Let me help you relax, okay? You’ve had a rough day.” You reached out, your hand brushing his arm, but he caught your wrist, his grip firm but not painful, his eyes locking onto yours with a dark, commanding intensity.

“Relax, huh?” he said, his voice low, a smirk tugging at his lips. “You wanna make it up to me, babe? Then do somethin’ useful.” He leaned back, his eyes never leaving yours, the alcohol making his words bolder, rougher. “Take my boots off. My feet are fuckin’ killing me. Do it.”

Your breath caught, a flush creeping up your neck at the authority in his tone. You nodded, swallowing hard, and knelt in front of him, your hands trembling slightly as you reached for his boots. The leather was worn, scuffed from the day’s work, and you carefully unlaced them, pulling them off one by one, setting them aside. His socks followed, revealing his feet, and you glanced up, catching the way he watched you, his gaze heavy, possessive.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble, his smirk widening as he leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “Now get some warm water. You’re gonna massage my feet. Show your husband some goddamn service for once.”

Your heart raced, a mix of nerves and something warmer stirring in your chest at his commanding tone. “Okay, Seb,” you said softly, standing to fetch a bowl from the kitchen. You filled it with warm water, grabbing a towel and a bottle of scented oil, your hands shaking slightly as you returned. He was still sprawled on the couch, his eyes tracking your every move, a cigarette dangling unlit between his fingers, the faint scent of tobacco lingering.

You knelt again, setting the bowl at his feet, dipping the towel into the warm water. “Here,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper, your hands reaching for his feet, guiding them into the bowl. The water sloshed gently, the heat easing the tension in his muscles as you began to rub, your fingers tentative at first, pressing against his arches.

Sebastian let out a low groan, his head tipping back, his eyes half-closing. “Fuck, that’s better,” he muttered, his voice rough, the alcohol softening his edges but not his dominance. “So, tell me, babe—what’d you do all day while I was out there dealin’ with a shitshow?”

You swallowed, your fingers working the oil into his skin, massaging slowly, carefully. “Just… errands, mostly,” you said, your voice soft, your eyes flicking up to meet his. “Cleaned a bit, read some. Nothing exciting. How was your day, Seb? You sound… stressed.”

“Stressed?” he scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping as he lit the cigarette, taking a drag and exhaling a plume of smoke that curled in the dim light. “Fuckin’ understatement. Director’s an asshole, kept reshootin’ the same scene ‘cause he couldn’t make up his damn mind. Crew’s runnin’ around like headless chickens, and I’m stuck in a fuckin’ trailer for hours, waitin’ for ‘em to figure their shit out.” He took another drag, his eyes narrowing as he looked down at you, his voice dropping. “You’re doin’ it too soft, babe. Put some fuckin’ effort into it. Make it feel good.”

You nodded quickly, your hands pressing harder, kneading his feet with more force, the warm water sloshing slightly. “Sorry, Seb,” you murmured, your fingers digging into his arches, working the tension out. “Like this?”

He groaned again, deeper this time, his head tipping back as he took another drag, the cigarette glowing faintly. “Yeah, like that,” he said, his voice rough but approving, his eyes flicking down to you, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Fuck, you look good down there, babe. On your knees for your husband. Should’ve had you like this all day.”

Your cheeks flushed, your hands faltering for a moment before you resumed, pressing harder, your fingers slick with oil. His words sent a shiver through you, a mix of embarrassment and heat pooling in your core. “Seb…” you murmured, your voice shy, your eyes darting up to meet his, catching the dark, hungry look in them.

“Don’t ‘Seb’ me,” he said, his voice low, commanding, his smirk widening as he leaned forward, his cigarette dangling between his fingers. “You didn’t cook for me, so you’re gonna make it up another way. Keep goin’. Harder.” His eyes locked onto yours, his gaze intense, dominant, making your heart race.

You obeyed, your hands working with more intensity, kneading the muscles of his feet, the warm water and oil making your fingers glide smoothly. He let out another groan, his lips parting, his teeth grazing his lower lip as he watched you, his eyes glinting with approval. “Fuck, yeah, that’s it,” he murmured, his voice thick, his hand reaching out to brush your cheek, his thumb lingering on your skin. “Good fuckin’ girl.”

Your breath hitched, the praise sending a wave of heat through you, your hands trembling slightly as you continued, your fingers pressing deeper. His foot flexed under your touch, his toes curling, and you glanced up, catching the way his eyes darkened, his lips parting as he bit them, his gaze never leaving you.

“Goddamn,” he muttered, his voice rough, his hand dropping to his lap, his fingers brushing the bulge in his jeans, the fabric straining. “You’re gettin’ me hard just sittin’ there, babe. Look at you, all sweet and obedient.” His hand moved to his zipper, the sound slow, deliberate, as he pulled it down, his eyes locked on yours, daring you to look away.

You froze, your hands stilling on his feet, your eyes widening as he freed himself, his cock springing free, thick and hard, the tip glistening with precum. He wrapped his hand around it, stroking slowly, his smirk widening as he watched your reaction. “Keep goin’,” he ordered, his voice a low growl. “Don’t stop massagin’. You’re doin’ good.”

Your heart pounded, your hands resuming their work, your fingers trembling as you kneaded his feet, your eyes darting between his face and the slow, deliberate strokes of his hand. “Seb…” you whispered, your voice shaky, a mix of nerves and heat coursing through you.

“Shut up,” he said, his voice sharp but laced with amusement, his hand moving faster, his eyes burning into yours. “You didn’t make me dinner, babe. You’re gonna make it up to me.” He leaned forward, his free hand gripping your chin, tilting your face up. “Get over here. Now.”

Your breath caught, your hands falling from his feet as he tugged you closer, the bowl of water sloshing slightly. You shuffled forward on your knees, your heart racing as he guided you between his legs, his cock inches from your face, his hand still stroking slowly, deliberately. “You fucked up, babe,” he said, his voice low, dangerous, his smirk dark. “No dinner for your husband? You’re gonna pay for that.”

“Seb, I’m sorry,” you murmured, your voice trembling, your hands resting on his thighs, feeling the heat of his skin through his jeans. “Let me make it right…”

“Oh, you will,” he growled, his hand tightening on your chin, his thumb brushing your lips, parting them. “You’re gonna make it real fuckin’ right. Open your mouth.” His eyes were dark, commanding, his dominance overwhelming as he guided his cock to your lips, the tip brushing against them, slick with precum.

You hesitated, your cheeks flushing, but his grip on your chin tightened, his eyes narrowing. “Don’t make me ask twice,” he said, his voice a low snarl, his hand stroking himself faster, the sight making your core clench. “Suck it, babe. Show your husband you’re sorry.”

You obeyed, your lips parting, taking him into your mouth, the taste of him sharp, salty, mixed with the faint bitterness of whiskey. He groaned, his head tipping back, his hand sliding to your hair, gripping tightly as you moved, your tongue swirling around the tip, your hands gripping his thighs for balance.

“Fuck, yeah,” he muttered, his voice rough, his hips bucking slightly, pushing himself deeper. “That’s it, babe. Take it all. Show me you’re mine.” His hand tightened in your hair, guiding your movements, his dominance absolute as he watched you, his eyes glinting with satisfaction.

You moaned softly, the sound muffled, your tongue working him, your lips stretching around his thickness. His groans grew louder, his hand tugging your hair, setting a rhythm that was both punishing and needy. “Goddamn, you look good like this,” he growled, his voice thick with lust, his cigarette forgotten on the coffee table, the smoke curling lazily in the air. “On your knees, suckin’ your husband’s cock. Should’ve had you like this all fuckin’ day.”

Your cheeks burned, the heat between your legs growing as his words washed over you, his dominance making your body respond despite the shame. You moved faster, your tongue teasing the underside, your hands sliding up his thighs, feeling the tension in his muscles.

“Fuck, you’re good at this,” he murmured, his voice rough, his hand tightening in your hair, pulling just enough to make you gasp around him. “But you can do better. Deeper, babe. Take it all.” He thrust forward, his cock hitting the back of your throat, making you gag slightly, your eyes watering as you struggled to take him.

He groaned, his hips rocking, his hand holding you in place as he fucked your mouth, slow but relentless. “That’s it,” he growled, his voice thick, his eyes locked on yours, watching the tears spill down your cheeks. “Fuckin’ take it. You owe me, babe. No dinner? This is your punishment.”

You whimpered, the sound muffled, your hands gripping his thighs tighter, your body trembling with a mix of submission and desire. His dominance was overwhelming, his voice, his touch, his scent—all of it consuming you as you worked to please him, your lips and tongue moving faster, desperate to make him feel good.

“Goddamn,” he muttered, his voice breaking, his hips bucking harder, his cock throbbing in your mouth. “You’re fuckin’ perfect like this. My good little wife, makin’ up for her fuck-up.” His hand slid to your cheek, his thumb brushing away a tear, his touch both possessive and mocking. “Keep goin’. Don’t stop ‘til I tell you.”

You nodded as best you could, your mouth full, your eyes locked on his, the intensity of his gaze making your core ache. His groans grew louder, his hips moving faster, the rhythm punishing, his dominance absolute as he claimed your mouth, his pleasure building with every stroke.

“Fuck, babe,” he growled, his voice raw, his hand tightening in your hair, pulling you closer, his cock hitting the back of your throat again. “You’re gonna make me come like this. You want that? Want your husband’s cum down your throat?”

You moaned, the sound vibrating around him, your hands gripping his thighs, your body trembling with need. His words, his dominance, his roughness—it was all too much, pushing you to the edge without him even touching you. You moved faster, your tongue swirling, your lips tight, desperate to please him, to make up for your mistake.

“Fuck, yes,” he groaned, his voice breaking, his hips bucking hard, his release crashing through him. He held you in place, his cock pulsing in your mouth, his cum hot and thick as it spilled down your throat, his groans filling the room, raw and unfiltered. “Swallow it,” he ordered, his voice a low snarl, his hand tightening in your hair. “Every fuckin’ drop.”

You obeyed, swallowing hard, your eyes watering, your body trembling as you took everything he gave you. He groaned again, his hips slowing, his hand loosening in your hair, his touch softening as he watched you, his eyes glinting with satisfaction.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his voice rough but approving, his hand sliding to your cheek, his thumb brushing your lips, smearing the remnants of his cum. “Fuck, you did good, babe. Real fuckin’ good.” He leaned back, his chest heaving, his eyes never leaving yours, the cigarette smoke curling lazily in the air.

You sat back on your heels, your breath ragged, your cheeks flushed, your body buzzing with a mix of shame and desire. “Seb…” you murmured, your voice shaky, your hands resting on your thighs, unsure what to do next.

He smirked, his eyes dark, still heavy with the afterglow. “Don’t think you’re done, babe,” he said, his voice low, teasing, but laced with that same commanding edge. “You still owe me for that dinner. Get up here.” He patted his lap, his smirk widening, his dominance unshaken.

You hesitated, your heart racing, but his gaze was unrelenting, pulling you in. You stood, your legs shaky, and climbed onto his lap, straddling him, your hands resting on his shoulders. His hands slid to your hips, gripping hard, his eyes locking onto yours, his smirk dark and possessive.

“You’re mine, babe,” he murmured, his voice a low growl, his hands sliding up your back, pulling you closer. “No more fuckin’ up, you hear me? You take care of your husband.” His lips brushed yours, a teasing, possessive kiss, his hands tightening on your hips, making you gasp.

“I will,” you whispered, your voice trembling, your body pressed against his, the heat of him overwhelming. “I’m sorry, Seb. I’ll make it right.”

“Damn right you will,” he growled, his lips crashing against yours, the kiss hard, claiming, his hands roaming your body, possessive and unrelenting. “You’re gonna make it up to me all fuckin’ night.”

His hands slid under your shirt, pulling it up, his fingers brushing your skin, sending shivers through you. “Get this off,” he ordered, his voice a low snarl, his eyes burning into yours. “I wanna see you, babe. All of you.”

You obeyed, pulling your shirt over your head, tossing it aside, your breath hitching as his hands roamed your bare skin, his touch rough but deliberate, his eyes dark with want. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he murmured, his voice thick, his hands sliding to your bra, unclasping it with a flick of his fingers, letting it fall.

His hands cupped your breasts, his thumbs brushing your nipples, making you gasp, your body arching into his touch. “You like that, huh?” he taunted, his voice rough, his lips curling into a smirk. “My good little wife, gettin’ all worked up for her husband.”

“Seb…” you moaned, your voice soft, your hands gripping his shoulders, your body trembling under his touch. His dominance, his roughness, his words—they were all consuming you, making your core ache with need.

“Shh,” he murmured, his lips brushing your neck, his teeth grazing the skin, marking you. “You’re gonna take what I give you, babe. Every fuckin’ thing.” His hands slid to your pants, unbuttoning them, pushing them down, his touch possessive, claiming.

You whimpered, your body responding to his every touch, your hips rocking against him, desperate for more. “Please, Seb…” you whispered, your voice breaking, your hands sliding to his chest, feeling the heat of his skin, the strength beneath.

He growled, his hands gripping your hips, pulling you closer, his cock hardening again against your thigh, the heat of it making you gasp. “You want it?” he taunted, his voice a low snarl, his lips brushing yours. “Beg for it, babe. Tell your husband how bad you need him.”

“Please, Seb,” you moaned, your voice desperate, your body trembling with need. “I need you… need you so bad…”

“Fuck, that’s what I like to hear,” he growled, his hands sliding to your ass, gripping hard, pulling you against him. “You’re mine, babe. All fuckin’ mine.” His lips crashed against yours, the kiss hard, hungry, his dominance absolute as he claimed you, body and soul, in the dim light of the apartment, the scent of whiskey and smoke lingering in the air.

Sebastian’s lips curled into a dark, possessive smirk as he held you on his lap, your body trembling against his, bare and vulnerable in the dim glow of the lamp-lit apartment. The air was thick with the scent of whiskey, cigarette smoke, and the raw musk of desire, the city’s distant hum a faint backdrop to the charged silence between you. His hands gripped your hips, fingers digging into your skin, bruising, claiming, his cock hard against your thigh, the heat of it sending shivers through you. His blue eyes, still glazed from the alcohol, burned with a mix of lust and dominance, his breath heavy, ragged, as he leaned closer, his lips brushing yours in a teasing, taunting kiss.

“Fuck, you’re perfect like this,” he growled, his voice rough, thick with want, his hands sliding up your sides, thumbs grazing the undersides of your breasts. “All mine, babe. My good little wife, ready to make it up to me.” He spat, the warm saliva landing on your chest, dripping down between your breasts, the act degrading but igniting a fire in your core. “You’re gonna serve your husband right, aren’t you?”

You nodded, your breath hitching, your hands gripping his shoulders, nails biting into his skin. “Yes, Seb,” you whispered, your voice trembling, your body arching into his touch, desperate for more despite the shame burning in your chest. “I’ll do anything… I’m sorry.”

“Damn right you are,” he snarled, his hands cupping your breasts, squeezing hard, his thumbs circling your nipples with a deliberate roughness that made you gasp. “No fuckin’ dinner? You’re gonna pay for that, babe.” He spat again, the saliva hitting your nipple, slick and warm, his fingers pinching the sensitive bud, twisting just enough to make you whimper, the pain mingling with pleasure. “Say it. Say you’re my good little wife.”

“I’m your good little wife,” you moaned, your voice breaking, your body trembling under his touch, his dominance overwhelming. “I’m yours, Seb… please…”

He chuckled, dark and low, his lips brushing your ear, his breath hot against your skin. “Not good enough,” he growled, his fingers tightening on your nipples, pulling, making you cry out, your body arching against him. “Say you’ll serve me. Say you’ll do whatever your husband wants.”

“I’ll serve you,” you gasped, your voice desperate, your hands clawing at his shoulders, the pain from his fingers shooting through you, making your core clench. “I’ll do whatever you want, Seb… I’m yours.”

“Fuck, yeah, you are,” he murmured, his voice thick with approval, his hands relentless, pinching and twisting your nipples, the pain sharp but pushing you closer to the edge. He spat again, the saliva landing on your other breast, dripping down, his fingers smearing it across your skin, marking you. “Gonna make sure you never forget who you belong to.”

Your whimpers grew louder, your body trembling, your hips rocking against him, the heat of his cock against your thigh unbearable. “Seb… please…” you moaned, your voice raw, your eyes locked on his, pleading for relief, for more.

He smirked, his hands sliding to your hips, lifting you slightly, positioning you over his cock, the tip brushing your entrance, slick with precum and his spit. “You want this?” he taunted, his voice a low snarl, his eyes burning into yours. “You want your husband’s cock, babe? Beg for it.”

“Please, Seb,” you whimpered, your voice breaking, your hands gripping his shoulders, your body trembling with need. “I need you… need your cock… please, fuck me…”

“Fuck, that’s what I like to hear,” he growled, his hands tightening on your hips, pulling you down hard, impaling you on his cock in one brutal thrust. You cried out, your body jolting, the stretch overwhelming, the pleasure and pain colliding as he filled you completely. “Bounce, babe,” he ordered, his voice rough, his hands guiding your hips. “Ride your husband’s cock like you fuckin’ mean it.”

You obeyed, your hips moving, bouncing on his cock, the rhythm fast, desperate, the sound of skin against skin filling the apartment, raw and unfiltered. His hands gripped your hips, bruising, controlling your movements, his eyes locked on yours, dark with lust. He spat again, the saliva hitting your chest, dripping down, his hands sliding back to your breasts, pinching your nipples hard, making you cry out, your body trembling.

“Fuck, look at you,” he growled, his voice thick, his hands relentless, twisting and pulling your nipples, the pain sharp, pushing you closer to the edge. “Bouncin’ on my cock, takin’ it so good. Say it again, babe. Tell me you’re my good little wife.”

“I’m your good little wife,” you moaned, your voice hoarse, your hips moving faster, his cock hitting deep, the pleasure overwhelming. “I’m yours, Seb… all yours…”

He groaned, his hands tightening on your breasts, his fingers pinching harder, the pain making you gasp, your body trembling. “Fuckin’ right you are,” he snarled, spitting again, the saliva landing on your neck, dripping down, his hands smearing it across your skin, marking you as his. “Keep bouncin’, babe. Show me you’re sorry.”

You whimpered, your hips moving faster, your body rocking on his cock, the pleasure building, unstoppable. His hands were relentless, torturing your breasts, pinching and twisting, the pain mixing with the pleasure of his cock inside you, driving you to the edge. “Seb… fuck, it’s too much…” you moaned, your voice breaking, your hands gripping his shoulders, nails digging in.

“Too much?” he taunted, his voice a low growl, his hands not letting up, his fingers pinching your nipples harder, making you cry out. “You don’t get to say that, babe. You didn’t make dinner, so you take what I give you.” He spat again, the saliva hitting your cheek, his hand smearing it across your face, the act degrading but making your core clench tighter around him.

“Say you love it,” he ordered, his voice rough, his hands relentless, his cock thrusting up to meet your movements, the rhythm brutal, punishing. “Say you love servin’ your husband.”

“I love it,” you gasped, your voice desperate, your body trembling, your hips bouncing harder, his cock hitting deep, the pleasure overwhelming. “I love servin’ you, Seb… love bein’ yours…”

“Fuck, yeah,” he growled, his hands sliding to your hips, guiding you faster, his cock throbbing inside you, his eyes burning with dominance. “You’re mine, babe. My perfect little wife, takin’ my cock like you were made for it.” He spat again, the saliva landing on your chest, dripping down, his hands smearing it across your breasts, his fingers pinching your nipples again, making you scream.

Your body trembled, the pain and pleasure colliding, your climax building, unstoppable. “Seb… fuck, I’m gonna…” you moaned, your voice hoarse, your hips moving faster, desperate, his cock hitting every sensitive spot inside you.

“Not yet,” he snarled, his hands tightening on your hips, his fingers digging in, bruising. “You come when I say, babe. Not before.” He spat again, the saliva hitting your neck, his hand smearing it across your skin, his dominance absolute. “Say you’re my good little slut.”

“I’m your good little slut,” you moaned, your voice breaking, your body trembling, your hips bouncing on his cock, the pleasure overwhelming, his words pushing you closer to the edge. “I’m yours, Seb… please…”

“Fuck, that’s it,” he growled, his hands sliding back to your breasts, pinching your nipples hard, twisting, the pain sharp, making you cry out. “Keep sayin’ it, babe. Tell me you’re my slut while you ride my cock.”

“I’m your slut,” you gasped, your voice desperate, your body shaking, your hips moving faster, his cock hitting deep, the pleasure consuming you. “I’m your good little slut, Seb… all yours…”

He groaned, his hands relentless, torturing your breasts, his fingers pinching and twisting, the pain pushing you to the edge. “Fuck, you’re perfect,” he murmured, his voice thick, his cock throbbing inside you, his hips thrusting up to meet your movements. “Gonna make sure you never forget who you belong to.”

You whimpered, your body trembling, your climax so close you could barely breathe. “Seb… please…” you moaned, your voice raw, your hands gripping his shoulders, nails digging in, your body desperate for release.

He spat again, the saliva landing on your chest, dripping down, his hands smearing it across your skin, marking you as his. “You wanna come?” he taunted, his voice a low snarl, his hands relentless, pinching your nipples harder, making you scream. “Beg for it, babe. Beg your husband to let you come.”

“Please, Seb,” you moaned, your voice desperate, your hips bouncing harder, his cock hitting deep, the pleasure overwhelming. “Please let me come… I need it… I’m yours…”

“Fuck, yeah,” he growled, his hands tightening on your hips, guiding you faster, his cock throbbing inside you, his eyes burning with dominance. “Come for me, babe. Come on your husband’s cock.”

Your climax hit hard, a raw scream tearing from your throat as your body convulsed, your core clenching around him, the pleasure consuming you. Your hands gripped his shoulders, nails biting into his skin, your body trembling as you rode out the waves, his cock still thrusting inside you, relentless.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he groaned, his voice breaking, his hands sliding to your ass, gripping hard, smacking the flesh, the sound echoing in the apartment. “My good little wife, comin’ so fuckin’ hard for me.” He spat again, the saliva landing on your neck, his hand smearing it across your skin, his dominance unyielding.

You whimpered, your body oversensitive, your hips slowing, but he didn’t let up, his hands guiding you, making you bounce faster, his cock hitting deep, the rhythm punishing. “You’re not done,” he growled, his voice rough, his hands smacking your ass again, the sting making you gasp. “Gonna fuck you ‘til I’m ready, babe.”

“Seb…” you moaned, your voice weak, your body trembling, the pleasure and pain overwhelming. “I can’t… it’s too much…”

“Too much?” he taunted, his voice a low snarl, his hands gripping your hips, lifting you, making you bounce harder. “You don’t get to decide, babe. You’re mine. You take what I give you.” He spat again, the saliva hitting your chest, dripping down, his hands smearing it across your breasts, his fingers pinching your nipples again, making you cry out.

“Say it,” he ordered, his voice rough, his cock thrusting up to meet your movements, the rhythm brutal, punishing. “Say you’re my good little slut, and you’ll take anything I give you.”

“I’m your good little slut,” you moaned, your voice desperate, your body trembling, your hips bouncing on his cock, the pleasure consuming you. “I’ll take anything you give me, Seb… anything…”

“Fuck, yeah,” he growled, his hands relentless, torturing your breasts, pinching and twisting, the pain pushing you to the edge again. “Gonna make you mine in every fuckin’ way, babe.” He spat again, the saliva landing on your cheek, his hand smearing it across your face, the act degrading but making your core clench tighter around him.

Your body trembled, another climax building, the intensity overwhelming, his cock hitting deep, his hands punishing your breasts, his dominance consuming you. “Seb… fuck, I’m gonna…” you moaned, your voice breaking, your hands gripping his shoulders, nails digging in.

“Come again,” he ordered, his voice a low snarl, his hands tightening on your hips, guiding you faster, his cock throbbing inside you. “Come on my cock, babe. Show me you’re mine.”

Your climax hit again, a raw cry escaping your lips as your body convulsed, your core clenching around him, the pleasure overwhelming. Your hands gripped his shoulders, your body trembling, your hips slowing as you rode out the waves, his cock still thrusting inside you, relentless.

“Fuck, you’re so good,” he groaned, his voice breaking, his hands sliding to your ass, gripping hard, smacking the flesh again, the sound echoing in the apartment. “My perfect little wife, takin’ my cock like you were made for it.”

He spat again, the saliva landing on your chest, dripping down, his hands smearing it across your skin, marking you as his. “Gonna fill you up, babe,” he growled, his voice thick, his hips thrusting harder, his cock throbbing inside you. “Gonna fuck a baby into you. Make sure you’re mine forever.”

Your breath caught, your body trembling, the thought of him claiming you so completely sending a shiver through you. “Seb… fuck…” you moaned, your voice weak, your body oversensitive but responding to his words, his dominance.

“Say it,” he ordered, his voice a low snarl, his hands gripping your hips, making you bounce harder, his cock hitting deep. “Say you want my baby. Say you want me to fill you up.”

“I want your baby,” you moaned, your voice desperate, your body trembling, your hips moving faster, his cock driving deep, the pleasure consuming you. “Fill me up, Seb… please…”

“Fuck, yeah,” he groaned, his voice breaking, his thrusts growing erratic, his hands gripping your hips, bruising, claiming. “Gonna come inside you, babe. Gonna make you mine.” He spat one last time, the saliva landing on your neck, his hand smearing it across your skin, his dominance absolute as he thrust hard, his cock pulsing inside you.

His release hit hard, a guttural groan tearing from his throat as he buried himself deep, his cum hot and thick, filling you completely. Your body trembled, your core clenching around him, milking every drop, his hands gripping your hips, holding you in place as he rode out his climax, his groans filling the apartment, raw and unfiltered.

“Fuck, babe,” he murmured, his voice rough, his chest heaving, his hands sliding to your back, pulling you against him, your bodies pressed together, slick with sweat and spit. “You’re mine. All fuckin’ mine.”

You collapsed against him, your breath ragged, your body trembling, the intensity of it all overwhelming. “Seb…” you whispered, your voice weak, your hands resting on his chest, feeling the steady thud of his heart.

He smirked, his hands sliding to your face, cupping your cheeks, his thumb brushing your lips, smearing the remnants of his spit and cum. “Good girl,” he murmured, his voice soft but still commanding, his eyes glinting with satisfaction. “You served your husband right.”

You nodded, your body still trembling, your core aching with the aftershocks of your climaxes. “I’m yours,” you whispered, your voice raw, your eyes locked on his, the intensity of his gaze grounding you.

“Damn right you are,” he growled, his lips brushing yours, a soft, possessive kiss, his hands tightening on your hips. “And you’re gonna keep servin’ me, babe. Every fuckin’ day.”

The apartment was quiet again, the city’s distant hum a faint backdrop, the scent of whiskey, smoke, and sex lingering in the air. You stayed on his lap, your bodies entwined, his hands still possessive, his dominance unshaken, your love a fierce, consuming fire that burned in the shadows of the night.

If you like it, please let me know. You can write your requests from the fandom in my request box. I'll write them, no matter how wild they are. I'm here to make your fantasies come true.

Wattpad: bornbluevans.

[bubbarnes]

“... iPhone POV of shooting a Marvel movie as in-camera as possible.”

[thevoicefromanotherworld]

THE FLIP OMG 😭🖤☝🥵

[theavengers]

Sebastian Stan as Bucky Barnes Thunderbolts* (2025) dir. Jake Schreier

[thorfics-deactivated20240819]

Thor: Thunderstruck Series

On AO3 rated M

Part 1: Thor/Jarnsaxa (OFC) set within the post-TDW MCU timeline.

____________________________

Part 2: Story picks up after Ragnarok and continues through Endgame.

____________________________

Part 3: Post-Blip AU, WIP

[slutboybarbie]

You Look Good on Camera Baby…

Dom!King Loki x Reader

18+

Warnings/summary: slight exhibitionism, degradation, pet names, Loki records them

A/N: yes I did get the title from a 21 savage song

~~~~

"Open your fucking eyes. Let them see how much of a dirty whore you are for your King."

Your eyes shoot open at the sound of Loki's raspy voice in your ear, looking out at the poor guards just there to do their jobs in the throne room.

He's got you sitting on his lap, cock deep inside you while you struggle to keep your balance with your hands bound behind your back. You're completely bare while he's clad in Asgard's finest, even a miniature version of his horns adorning his head, Loki's idea of a crown.

"C'mon, I know you can do better than this."

He sounds bored, his sloppy posture showing that too.

With a flick of his wrist your bindings are gone, Loki's large hands coming to grip your hips, effortlessly lifting you.

"I've got to do everything don't I?"

He pulls you off of him until only the tip is left, before slamming you back onto him. A moan is punched from your lungs, your hands scrambling to grab onto something while you collect yourself.

"I should invite the whole kingdom in here.", he snarls in your ear, "Let them see how their precious Queen likes to be fucked absolutely dumb on the sacred throne."

You moan even louder at that, pushing your hips down to meet Loki's thrusts. "You like that don't you darling? The idea of everyone seeing me ruin you."

Two of his fingers appear in front of your lips, a silent command for you to suck on them.

You wordlessly obey, whimpering around his now damp fingers.

The newfound weight in your mouth grounds you, tongue swirling around his slender fingers as you feel your high approaching.

"Let me have it pet, c'mon.", he whispers harshly in your ear.

You hear the slight woosh of his magic and not a even a second later, a camera is in front of your face.

You turn to Loki in shock, or at least try to, but he uses the hand once gagging you to keep your face turned forward. "Look at the camera, yeah? Put on a show for the people."

Loki extends his arm to get a better angle, and he fixes your face to look directly at it. It's not hard to imagine how erotic this must look and you can't help but feel a little shy.

You try to drop your head, to curl into Loki's neck, anything to hide your face but Loki isn't budging. Only spewing out the filthiest things that cross his mind directly into your ear, occasionally angling your head so that he can kiss and bite at your neck, no doubt leaving marks.

Eyes glazed, tears begin to swell as your pleasure consumes you.

Loki notices, a cruel smile adorning his lips. "Poor thing."

He puts the camera directly in your face, "Go ahead, cry while you cum for me."

[inlovewithacriminals]

Loki’s Body Parts

[jotunqueenneith]

Oh I will never stop looking

[maccreadysbaby]

Some of my favorite words and phrases to describe a character in pain

coiling (up in a ball, in on themselves, against something, etc)

panting (there’s a slew of adjectives you can put after this, my favorites are shakily, weakly, etc)

keeling over (synonyms are words like collapsing, which is equally as good but overused in media)

trembling/shivering (additional adjectives could be violently, uncontrollably, etc)

sobbing (weeping is a synonym but i’ve never liked that word. also love using sob by itself, as a noun, like “he let out a quiet sob”)

whimpering (love hitting the wips with this word when a character is weak, especially when the pain is subsiding. also love using it for nightmares/attacks and things like that)

clinging (to someone or something, maybe even to themselves or their own clothes)

writhing/thrashing (maybe someone’s holding them down, or maybe they’re in bed alone)

crying (not actual tears. cry as in a shrill, sudden shout)

dazed (usually after the pain has subsided, or when adrenaline is still flowing)

wincing (probably overused but i love this word. synonym could be grimacing)

doubling-over (kinda close to keeling over but they don’t actually hit the ground, just kinda fold in on themselves)

heaving (i like to use it for describing the way someone’s breathing, ex. “heaving breaths” but can also be used for the nasty stuff like dry heaving or vomiting)

gasping/sucking/drawing in a breath (or any other words and phrases that mean a sharp intake of breath, that shite is gold)

murmuring/muttering/whispering (or other quiet forms of speaking after enduring intense pain)

hiccuping/spluttering/sniffling (words that generally imply crying without saying crying. the word crying is used so much it kinda loses its appeal, that’s why i like to mix other words like these in)

stuttering (or other general terms that show an impaired ability to speak — when someone’s in intense pain, it gets hard to talk)

staggering/stumbling (there is a difference between pain that makes you not want to stand, and pain that makes it impossible to stand. explore that!)

recoiling/shrinking away (from either the threat or someone trying to help)

pleading/begging (again, to the threat, someone trying to help, or just begging the pain to stop)

Feel free to add your favorites or most used in the comments/reblogs!

[dailyloki]

LOKI SEASON 2 / EPISODE 1

[lokitvsource]

Tom Hiddleston as Loki | LOKI S02E01

[marveldaily]

Loki 02x01 Ouroboros

[jotunqueenneith]

Now I need several box’s.

[jotunqueenneith]

Who can’t wait for season 2 @kateslife15 @lokischambermaid @michelleleewise @house-of-laufeyson @lokiscepter81

[dailyloki]

LOKI FROST GIANT

[maryxglz]

Reply not to me with a fool-born jest: Presume not that I am the thing I was; For God doth know, so shall the world perceive, That I have turn’d away my former self;

                     Henry IV, Part II, Scene V

#ShakespeareSunday

[chokemedaddyloki]

Henry V can step on me.