#Lloyd Hansen & firecracker

[imaginedreamwrite]

Three reasons why Lloyd barely leaves firecrackers side (and one reason why she likes it)

Was he being paranoid? Was this the first time he had really felt fear, true and unhindered fear?

Lloyd was agitated, he felt his skin prickling with the rise of goosebumps. It was over a thousand miles away and Lloyd still felt as if it was on his doorstep. The breach from the Harbingers in the North made the rest of the faction leaders hyper aware.

Lloyd couldn’t leave your side, he couldn’t leave his Firecrackers side, especially not since the two of you had finally conceived.

Lloyd had categorically designated three reasons why he wouldn’t leave your side.

Reason 1, he claimed, was due to his suspicions that any rebel organization would target you specifically because you were his wife and carrying a child.

Reason 2, was rooted in your morning sickness that could leave you exhausted and Lloyd wanted to be everywhere to support you.

Reason 3, Lloyd knew you were having wicked cravings and wanted to satiate your hunger and any desire you had. He wanted to keep you happy and full, comfortable and protected.

“I like you like this,” you pinned him down and used him as a bed later that night, humming into his ear, “following me around all day. Reason why I love it?”

“Tell me?”

“Proof that Lloyd Hansen has a heart and soul.”

[yagirlpurplefox12]

Masterlist (As Of Now)

Harry Potter World

Dumbledore x Reader - Imagine: Being a Muggle born student and having a crush on Professor Dumbledore (Part 1) (Male Reader) - Imagine: Professor Dumbledore reciprocating your love (Part 2) (MaleReader) Hogwarts Legacy x Reader - Imagine: Sparing Victor Rookwood’s Life Part One (Male Reader MC x Victor Rookwood) (Male Reader)

2. Johnny Knoxville because he's beautiful lol!

- Imagine: Being in Love with Clay Barber...and Him Feeling the Same (Gender Neutral Reader) - Imagine: Scrad & Charlie having a mad crush on you, a human... (Gender Neutral Reader) - Imagine: Being Yound and Crushing On Luke Duke (Female Reader)

3. The Gray Man (Becuase Ryan Gosling and Chris Evans are eye candy

- Imagine: Being Best Friends w/Lloyd Hansen (Male Reader) - Baby Girl (The Gray Man x Female Reader) (Female Reader)

4. X-Men/Avengers

- Logan’s Firecracker (Logan x Female Reader)

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Future Wroks:

~ Naruto

~ True Blood

~ Task 141 (COD MW)

~ Red Dead Redemption II

AND SO MUCH MORE!!!!!!

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Don't worry ya'll more will be coming out and don't be afraid to ask me for a request. Just be afraid for how long it will take me to post it haha!!!

Right now I'm thinking of writing a male reader and female reader story with Task Force 141, they will drastically be different stories. Think is I want to play MW before writing it so I can understand the characters more than the fanfictions I've been reading.

[federalchickensoup]

@branded--with--a--j I ain’t read it yet but I just KNEW I felt it in my bones that you were cooking up something diabolical. And I thank you.

[branded-witha-j]

I'm so glad you loved it! I wanted to have a little twist at the end. 😉 Thank you for reading! 🖤

Firecracker

Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x reader

WC: 4.4k

Warnings: non/dub con, kidnapping, methods of torture, spitting, biting, butterfly knife, violet wand, double dipping, anal, fingering, forced orgasm, mockery. Dark Lloyd, but that's just the norm.

18+ only! Please heed the warnings. You are responsible for your own media consumption.

Not beta read. All fuckups are my own.

The restaurant is nearly deserted, only a single patron lingering by the bar. He nurses a glass of whiskey, swirling the remains in the bottom of the tumbler. With a crisp haircut and an equally pristine mustache, the thing that makes him stand out the most is his choice of clothing. The flashy print of his shirt is paired with white trousers, the outfit loud and obnoxious. 

Just like the man wearing it. 

You serve him a final whiskey with a message that the bar is closed and he sneers at you as he plucks the glass up from the napkin you placed five drinks ago. 

"I'll leave when I'm ready, cupcake." 

The cutesy nickname makes your teeth grit and you slap down the tab slip before you turn away. Busying yourself with a cloth and a stack of glasses on the opposite end of the bar, you glance up at the clock. It's well past closing. With a frustrated sigh, you wheel around to tell him it's time to pay and go. The words die in your throat, the stool where he perched now empty. Approaching, you toss the cloth down as you realize he left something behind, mouth falling open in shock as you lift up the stack of one hundred dollar bills. 100 one hundred dollars bill. 10 grand. 

The shock of it makes an unexpected giggle bubble out of your chest and you clamp a hand over your mouth as you look around. He's gone, the place quiet, even though the music still plays over the speakers. 

With the cash stowed away in the deep recesses of your bag, you lock up and rush to your parked car, looking around nervously. Falling into the driver's seat, you hit the button to lock the doors, and shove the bag behind the seat. When your fingers brush against something soft and warm, you open your mouth to scream, but a hand clamps over it. The seat belt whines as it's pulled hard, the excess used to loop around your neck and pin you firmly in place. 

"Hi, cupcake." You freeze, eyes straining to look back. His palm covers the lower half of your face, pulling back to bring you even closer. You can feel his lips grazing against the shell of your ear, his breath warm and sweet from the whiskey. You shake your head and he lets his hand drop to your jaw, fingers digging in painfully. "Did you get the tip I left?"

"If that's what you want, it's in the ba–"

His tongue clicks, a growl rumbling up along with a laugh.

"I'm not here for the money, honey." The bristle of his mustache tickles your ear, making you flinch away. 

"Then what do you want?" You whine, both hands coming up to claw at the one gripping your jaw. He tightens until you cry out and drop them in defeat. 

"Good girl." You hate the way his voice purrs. The sight of a gun makes you struggle, the silencer rubbing against your cheek.

You suck in a breath, preparing to scream, and he jostles you hard. 

"Don't even think about it." Your jaw aches from his hold, neck burning from the seat belt. Groping with your right hand, you feel the little spray bottle in the console, fingers wrapping around it. 

The man has been talking, but you haven't heard a word of it over your hammering heart. 

"Are you listening–" The spray of hand sanitizer catches him in the face, his yell loud in your ear. "You stupid bitch!"

You get his hand loose from your throat, lurching forward, but still hung up by the belt. With a violent tug, he brings you back against the seat, pulling so tight you can feel it cutting into your skin. You try to speak, beg for him to stop, but the pressure in your head is unbearable. 

"You really shouldn't have done that, cupcake." The butt of his gun comes down, catching you at the temple, and everything flashes until there's nothing but darkness.

~~~

Excruciating pain is the first thing you notice, the blinding light the next. You wince, eyes pinching closed, and a hand slapping at your cheek forces you to open them. The man stands before you and a broad smile appears as your eyes meet. 

"Well well well, look who decided to join us." You try to pull back, but restraints keep you firmly in place. 

"Why–" Your voice is hoarse and cracks from the simple question. 

"Ralphie." His answer is just as simple and you shake your head. 

"I haven't seen him in over a week. He said he had to disappear–"

"Oh, I've seen him. And he told me to talk to you." A long finger taps you on the nose.

"Me? But I–" 

"Cut the shit! I know all about you." The table you're strapped to lurches sickeningly as he stomps on a pedal near the floor, releasing the lock. You swing up, coming to a jarring stop, the straps burning where they meet skin. 

"I don't know what you're talking about." Your head hangs down, avoiding his gaze. Snagging your hair at the crown, he yanks it back, leaning into your vision. 

"Oh, I think you do. And I'm gonna get it out of you one way or another. Do you understand?"

You refuse to acknowledge him, the man's eyes dropping down to your open mouth. Before you can close it, he spits, giggling as you begin to struggle. You can feel him on your tongue, teeth grinding together as your nostrils flare with rapid, heavy breaths. 

"What's the matter?" His eyes flash and widen, his tone mocking. "Not into that?"

You glare back at him silently, still feeling his saliva pooled on your tongue. 

"Well, get comfortable, we're just getting started."

He releases your hair and you slump forward with a groan. The man paces back and forth, stopping to hook his finger under your chin. You try to jerk your face away, but he catches you with his thumb and fingers, pinching at your cheeks until your lips pucker. His eyes are intense, pupils blown as delight shines through them. He's enjoying this, a voyeur to the confusion and fear that consumes you. 

"I'm Lloyd." He introduces himself, a toothy grin following the introduction. You glare at him, shoulders doing their best to shrug. 

"And? You want to be friends?" Even you surprise yourself with your snarky answer, Lloyd shoving your head to the side as he releases it.

You watch him cross over to a small table, an assortment of items ranging from snacks to tools making your eyes widen briefly. Plopping down into a chair, he crosses his legs, leaning over to grab a chocolate covered almond from a glass bowl. Chewing thoughtfully, he reaches for a manila folder, perching it on his thigh as he reaches for another treat. The folder flips open, whatever is on the pages a mystery to you. 

When Lloyd says your full name, the muscles tense in your body, but you try not to give away the sudden fear that churns in your gut. Your address is next, a sharp inhale burning in your chest. He has everything; your social, your DOB, your blood type, even going as far as to give the results of your last pap smear. 

"Squeaky clean." Lloyd muses, humiliation making your eyes drop. Dropping his leg, he moves to stand up, but feigns dramatically, as if he has forgotten something so important. Tearing a page from the folder, he lets the rest fall to the floor, stepping on the scattered papers as he stands. You stare at the floor, refusing to look at him, but you can feel the heat from his body, a pleasant, expensive cologne distracting you.

"How's your Mom doing? Breast cancer, huh?" 

Your head jerks up and you struggle at the restraints. 

"And your Dad? Just retired after almost 50 years on the force." Lloyd snorts, holding out the paper as if he's reading Shakespeare. "Brother following in Daddy's footsteps. Sister a teacher. I guess they figured one of you had to be a dud."

Eyes burn with tears as your head drops, his words biting more than his fingers as they dig into your jaw to force you to look at him.

"Honestly. Who goes to college and studies Lit for–" Lloyd checks the paper. "5 years?!? Jesus, just get a fucking library card. Would've been a lot cheaper."

His mocking continues as begins to circle around the table, reading more information from the paper. 

"And a girl that loves it up the ass?" 

You flinch, your heart thundering in your chest.

"Your nightstand could be a Toys R Us for adults. I expected a vibrator, there's always a sad little vibe hidden somewhere. But, you have an impressive collection. Is that why Ralphie disappeared? Couldn't handle you?"

Leaning down, his giddy face fills your vision. Standing back up, he snags your hair, and slams your head back against the table. 

"Lloyd–" You yelp out his name and he darts into your vision again, brows arched expectantly. 

"Want to give up already?" 

His smile is taunting, your frown deepening. Before you can stop yourself, you spit in his face. Stepping back, he scoffs in amused surprise, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket. Slowly, he dabs at his face, carefully folding up the cloth before returning it to where it came from. 

"I knew you'd be a fun little firecracker."

He reaches into his pocket again, but a following metallic whisper makes you flinch, the table rattling. Lurching forward, Lloyd presses against you completely, his warmth comforting. The hair of his mustache tickles your lips and you tumble into the depths of his eyes. They're blue, the color almost eaten up completely with black. 

And then he's gone, stepping back to twirl the knife in his hand. Eyes trail up and down your body, taking in your wrinkled blouse and torn dress pants. 

"Let me guess," His finger points up and down your body. "Express? No. Target? Old Navy?"

Your humiliation returns and Lloyd revels in it, smiling smugly as he steps closer. Slipping between the two pieces of fabric held closed by buttons, he drags the blade up until he pops one free. Another and another button pings away, bouncing across the floor until your blouse hangs open. 

The bra underneath isn't cheap and Lloyd's eyes alight with excitement as he takes it in. Tracing the tip over the lace, he brings the edge against the band that holds the cups together. Eyes flicker up to yours and he smiles, pulling away the blade. Stepping back, he drags the nearby table closer, gently placing the knife down. Turning back, you expect to see another instrument of torture in his hands, but they're empty. 

He's close again, parts of his body brushing against yours, and you jolt as his hands lift to frame your breasts. Cheeks burn, eyes looking anywhere but at him, and a snorted laugh makes you cringe. 

"Why are your nipples hard?" Before you can deny him a response, palms slide over, fingers curling under the cups. With a tug, your tits fall out, the rigid underwire tucked under them like a shelf. Lloyd hums, stepping back to get a better view, and his thumbs trace over the hard peaks. 

He's gentle, taking his time to acquaint himself with your skin, his hands coming to rest at the waistband of your pants. The table rattles as you try to pull back, but have nowhere to go. 

"Do they match?" He smirks as he pops the button open, a pointer finger and thumb closing around the zipper tab. He's slow, eyes locked with yours, and you glare back until he breaks contact to look down. "They do."

He crouches, tugging the pants down your hips, knuckles grazing your thighs as he pulls them down to web at your feet. Fingertips slide up your skin as he stands, an exhale prefacing a dreamy smile. Not saying a word, he turns his broad back to you, messing with the items placed on the table. Turning back, he holds up a wand, the thin length ending with a small glass ball. 

"What is th–" The ball doesn't even make contact with the skin of your stomach and a shock makes you yelp out. Lloyd chuckles and hold up the wand, turning it in his hand. 

"This is gonna make you sing, little bird."

He brings it close again, your stomach sucking in to avoid the contact. Clicking his tongue, Lloyd steps closer and traces the tip along the hem of your panties. With each pass, the jolt gets easier, and you're trying to catch your breath when the gusset of your underwear is pulled to the side. 

"Wait!" But he doesn't listen, bringing the wand close to your mound, a whimper choked down. Lower he goes until the lips of your pussy keep him from really getting to what he wants the most. Crouching down, Lloyd uses his free hand to spread you open, a groan floating up from where he's knelt. 

"Well, that's unexpected." His thumb swabs over your clit and your whimper comes out this time, hands twisting and turning in the cuffs. "It would seem you're enjoying yourself, cupcake."

You shake your head, but his fingers are slick with evidence, a growl rumbling from below. The zap makes you scream, the ball hovering over your swollen clit. He has yet to make full contact, and he holds you open while circling around your bud. Your cunt pulses, the pleasure forced out of you with each pass of the wand. 

You scream at full contact, bucking forward so hard the table groan in protest. Slapping a hand against your pelvis, Lloyd holds you in place as you come. The swell of your release is agony, but nothing compared to how it feels as you try to come down. The wand blocks relief, instead bringing with it a pain that can only be harvested from pure torture. You scream for him to stop, thighs rippling from violent shivers. 

Standing, his face comes close to yours, his breath sweet from the chocolate. The wand remains in place and you beg him, eyes locked and pleading. His smile is broad, eyes dropping down to your panting mouth. His kiss is rough, teeth clacking together, and you scream against him as the wand pushes you over again. It hurts, even when he finally pulls it away, replacing it with his fingers. Rubbing at you furiously, you try to clamp your thighs together, trapping him between them. 

The kiss is deep, his tongue swirling around yours until he pulls back with a wet pop. The skin above your mouth is reddening from his mustache, lips swollen and tender. Locking his free hand around your throat, he presses his forehead against yours, his fingers relentless against your clit. He's agony laced with pleasure, long, deft fingers working you over and over until you slump. 

"Had enough?" You don't respond, teeth gritting as he forces your head back up. 

"Fuck you." You don't have the strength to do more than hiss it at him. Pulling back, Lloyd tilts his head, looking you up and down. 

"If you insist." Stomping his foot, the table falls back, your head swimming and dizzy. You feel a tug at your wrists and your arms come together, a double ended bolt snap locking them in place. The tugging resumes at your ankles and the table swings with another stomp, your body dropping onto the hard floor.

It knocks the wind from your lungs, dust puffing up as you cough and wheeze against the floor. Hands scoop under your arms to lift you upright, your back meeting his front as he walks you across the room. He carries you as if you weigh nothing, stopping and circling around to your front. You sway in place, and his hand wraps around the clasp, lifting your arms over your head. Hooking them in place, he breaks contact, forcing you to balance on the tips of your toes. You sway and twist, his hands settling on your sides to still the motion. 

The muscles of your arms burn with quick fatigue, calves cramping as you try to keep all your weight from your wrists. Letting his fingers drift down, they curl under the waistband of your panties and he peels them down. He follows, crouching behind you, and works them and your pants loose from your ankles. You lose your balance, swaying wildly, and his hand at your hips stops it. His face is now level with your ass, thumbs digging into each cheek to spread them. 

You struggle as the whisper of his mustache ghosts along your skin, teeth burning as he sinks them into flesh. He bites harder and harder, right to the point of breaking skin, and then lets go. Admiring the dents his teeth left, he slowly rises, right hand trailing and stopping at the cleft of your ass. 

"Let's see if you like reality over fantasy." The pad of his middle finger cuts down between your cheeks, seeking out your tight hole. Lloyd exhales deeply at the feel of the taut skin, pressing at the narrow opening until it accepts him. You hiss, trying to ignore the stinging sensation, and it disappears along with his finger. His saliva hits right on target and he swirls it around before shoving his finger as deep as it will go. You moan, leaning forward, and his free hand comes up to roughly cup a breast, slamming you back against him.

"Where do you think you're going?"

The second finger sinks in to join the first and the stretch makes your legs tremble. 

"Fuck–" The word comes out breathless and a breathy chuckle by your ear has you tensing. 

"The way I see it, you have two options. This can hurt or I can make it feel really good." His fingers pump in and out of your ass as if to emphasize his point. "So, doll, what's it gonna be?"

You're exhausted, broken, tears beginning to streak down your cheeks. Your body wars with itself, your pussy throbbing at every move that he makes. Your scream is loud, the third finger stretching you open. 

"Good– Please!" You beg, trembling as his intrusion burns with each rock of his wrist. Without removing his fingers, he freezes, chin coming to rest on your shoulder. 

"I'm sorry. I missed that. What do you want?" He shoves his fingers as deep as they'll go when you take too long. Whimpering, you give him your answer loud and clear. 

"Good. I want you to make me feel good."

You cry out as he abruptly removes his fingers, pulling the handkerchief from his pants to wipe his hand. Once done, he wads it up, shoving it into your mouth instead of his pocket. 

"Now," He stops before you and pulls his shirt over his head before continuing. "My definition of good might be different than yours, so bear with me."

Folding his shirt, he places it on the nearby chair, hands meeting at his belt to work it open. Pulling it free from the loops with a hard tug, he drapes it over the back of the chair. Loosening the button and pulling down his zipper, he leaves the pants as they are and steps before you. Cupping your cheek, he pulls your face up, leaning down to speak.

"Which hole am I going to ruin first?" His question must be rhetorical, your teeth gritting together. 

"Just fucking do it, Lloyd. I'm sick of your games." Your frayed nerves force the words out and he chortles into your face. Hands clap on your ass, lifting you easily, and you wrap your legs around him out of reflex, afraid of being dropped. You can feel how hard he is, his cock pressing against the cotton of his briefs. Keeping one hand splayed wide against your lower back, he dips the other into his pants, pulling his cock free.

You watch, unable to look away, his length hard and soft against your mound. You tremble, not from the pull at your wrists, but from the ridge of his tip as he pulls his hips back enough to slice it between your plump lips. Nudging your clit, you jolt, the crystal clear liquid weeping from his slit smeared against the swollen nub.

It feels like time is stolen, his teasing pushing you to the brink, only to be denied over and over again. You suck in a shuddering breath, trying to find enough air to demand he stop torturing you. The pressure at your entrance as his tip catches against it has you struggling, both of his hands cupping your ass as he sinks into you. He burns, stretching you open inch by inch until he's buried as deep as your body will allow. There's so much more he has to give, but you take all you can, his pelvis grinding against yours until you're panting. 

"Who would have thought the Lit major would have such a tight little pussy?" 

You close your eyes, shaking your head, and teeth dig into your bottom lip as he pulls back until just his tip remains. Thrusting up, you pull with your burning arms, trying to run from him, but strong hands bring you back down. Your cervix takes the brunt of his effort, the clasp grinding against the hook as he pounds into you. Letting your head dip down, it rests on his chest, hot breath panted against his skin. 

Rutting into you, sweat erupts across his chest, your own just as slick. All you can feel is Lloyd. All you can smell is Lloyd. He thrives on the sounds of your screams and your impending demise motivates him. When he hikes you up, your hands fall from the hook, your arms dropping to circle his neck. You're moving, the table slamming down just in time for him to pin you against it. Throwing his entire weight onto you, he pounds into you furiously, a hand coming up to throw your arms up and away, his head ducking down. 

Teeth sting at your nipple, the sharp tug making you keen. He leaves marks across the soft flesh, biting down and holding on as he pistons his cock in and out. The table protest as it scoots across the floor, the locked wheels unable to stop Lloyd's violent thrusts. 

You can feel the heat between your legs, your slick dripping down between your cheeks and soothing your abused hole. His promise to make you feel good seems lost in his own selfishness, your hands balling into fists before you swing your arms down to strike at him. Wild eyes meet yours as he takes the first hit and easily dodges the second. 

"You want it rough? Huh?" He darkly chuckles, tearing back from you, your cunt feeling open and empty. Seething and panting, Lloyd glares at you, hands on his hips. His cock bobs, shiny and rigid. You can only focus on it, kicking out as he moves close again. Catching you by the ankle, he tugs hard, pulling you from the table. The wind is knocked out of you once again, the cuffs used to lift and flip you onto your stomach. His weight presses over you and you can feel him between your cheeks, his body shadowing yours. 

Suddenly you wish for his fingers again, his head probing at your ass until he can feel the ring of muscle. 

"There it is." Lloyd sighs out, pushing forward until his tip is swallowed up. He groans, pushing up with his arms to look down. "Fuck, that's hot." 

He pierces into your ass, giving you a few inches at a time. When he slams into you, making you take the rest, you scream out. His pelvis lies flush with your backside, his weight crushing you to the floor.  Lowering his mouth to the shell of your ear, he growls as he pulls back and ruts into you.  You expect words of humiliation to tumble forth, but he’s lost in the sensations, instead growling his appreciation into your neck.  Pants web between his tights, his bare pelvis clapping against your ass as he fucks you open.  Your clit pulses, feeling neglected, and if you had your hands, you would use one to give yourself a reprieve.  Instead, Lloyd does it for you, forcing his hand under until his palm cups your cunt.  Dipping between your lips, the slightest contact makes you shake, your hands clenching into fists.

Pinching your clit, you come hard, shaking under him as he stops moving.  Relief is followed by another sweet sting, his cock pulling from your ass and plunging into your cunt.  He enjoys the swell of your release, rutting in tandem with each pulse of your walls.  As you flutter down, he picks up the pace, pounding into you over and over again until you cry out his name.  You gush around him, his groan of satisfaction joining the staccato of his hips.  Wrapping a thick forearm around your neck, he pulls you back, looking down into your contorted face.

“Give me one more.”  He nods as you shake your head, teeth clenching as he doubles down.  You resist, trying to fight through it, but he gets what he wants in the end.  Eyes roll back as you come, your moans mingling with Lloyd’s groans.  His perfect rhythm stutters, growing erratic and sloppy.  “Good. Fucking. Girl.”

With one final thrust, he spills into you, his cum hot and searing.  Your fluttering cunt milks him, his seed leaking out from around his cock to the floor below.  Rocking, he floats down, puffing out an exhale as he smiles.

“Goddamn.” Both of his hands lift to release your wrists, fingers twining with yours as you both huff.  Kissing at the shiny skin of your shoulder, his mustache tickles as he nuzzles into your neck.  Rolling onto his side, he brings you with him, arms wrapping around you tightly.  

“Lloyd,” You sigh until he hums in response.  “I’m keeping the money just for that Lit jab.”

He barks out a laugh, nipping at your shoulder, and lifts your joined hands to kiss at the raw skin of your wrist.

[imaginedreamwrite]

Could you describe the rooms of each fractions couple? Sorry I'm kinda into indoor decorating

Curtis and Red’s room has a direct and endless view of the mountains and forest that stretches far beyond anyone can see

Their room is minimalist because they don’t need to add anything to the already breathtaking views. Their bed is draped in furs and hand stitched blankets, and their entire house is heated by fire burning logs, and their house always smells like fresh mountain air and the woods

Ari & Ariel’s room had big picture windows that look out onto the ocean, and recently Ari built her a deck/walkway that leads right to the ocean

Their bed is low to the floor, almost one with the floor, and the cotton sheets and blankets are always thrown around because of their very active sex life and her need to constantly be near the beach. Their house is warm and inviting, its beachy and airy and open

Lloyd and Firecrackers room gives them a direct look at the on-property pond and was designed to be able to catch the direct and unobstructed sight of the sunset at dusk

There’s a wraparound porch that Firecrackers sits on in the morning or at night, relaxing and drinking sweet tea. She grows to enjoy the sun and the warmth after spending her entire life up until Lloyd in the snow

Steve and Muse’s room is detailed and focuses on the city skyline, as both a reminder of what home is to Steve and what they need to work to fix. Their bed is set before floor to ceiling windows and they spend their time looking at the city that was once thriving

Steve and Muse love artwork and music, they adore decorating with Steve’s artwork

[imaginedreamwrite]

Are you ok with people sending in more than one ask for your prompts?

If so I'd like to request picture 6 with Lloyd and Firecracker

It seemed endless, the snow, and while Lloyd preferred the overhanging willows of their home he couldn’t deny the beauty of Firecrackers old home. He had stretched on the bed, still bared beneath the sheet that keeps himself from being completely naked. Its here that he lies, one arm supporting his weight while he looks out at the snow, a cup of coffee between the two of you.

“I’m going to miss this when we have to leave.” Lloyd looks at you as you lay flat against the bed with only a robe around you, admiring the sweep snow as it blisters the area.

“The snow?” Lloyd questions, tapping the rim of his cup. “You’ll miss the snow, Firecracker?”

“The company,” you smile to yourself and reach for Lloyd, a tattoo on the inside of both your right wrists symbolizing the loss you suffered from miscarriages and the struggle to become pregnant, “I know you think she’s weak-”

“I was wrong.” Lloyd speaks over you, glancing from the snow to you, his wife. “You’ve shown me that, Firecracker.”

“Lloyd Hansen admitting he’s wrong,” you reached out to feel his forehead, eyebrows furrowing, “you’ve gotta be sick.”

“No,” he stole your hand and kissed the centre of your palm, “but I have been humbled. Forcefully.”

“Good,” you laugh and lean into him, kissing his bare chest, “someone’s finally getting through your big head.”

“Mrs. Hansen-“

“Wait,” you turn over and reach for the other side of the bed, slowly grasping onto a small textured piece of cloth, “I want to tell you before we get home because I know it’ll be chaos.”

You returned the cloth to his hands, your eyes boring into his as he studied and read the words etched into the cloth. It was bold and brazen, yet there was such innate tenderness in the material.

“We’ve suffered a lot, we’ve lost a lot from miscarriages but now…” You took his hand and rest it upon your belly. “We’re pregnant, and Dr. Richards said this one will take. They’ve run tests and-“

He leaned forward and kissed you passionately, captivating you with his lips as he cupped your cheeks. It was a display brought forth by him, symbolizing a possible permanent change and softening of his heart.

“Thank you,” he whispered against your forehead, “thank you, wife.”

[imaginedreamwrite]

Now all I can think off for fight Friday is Firecracker participating in the fight and winning. 😅 Maybe she made a bet with Lloyd. If she wins she gets to sleep alone for the weekend

Women don’t fight on Fridays.

Women can’t fight as well as men.

No one is willing to pay a woman for a fight.

The flux of negative connotative digs at her ability to strap on a pair of boots and hold her own in the ring was being trashed. Every single person who tried to deny her entry into the fighting match had been blown away not just by her ability to hold her ground, but by the power a woman like her had.

She owed it to Curtis Everett, her old faction leader wasn’t just a mentor but a brother. He was her older brother who taught her how t survive in the north, how to track and handle weapons, how to defend herself better than most men she had ever come across. Curtis had done more for her than she could have ever thanked him for and now she had a chance to prove herself.

Not just for herself, but for Little Red. It had always angered her how degrading her husband was and had been toward Red.

“Softness has no place in our world now.” She knew that Lloyd was hardened, he had closed himself off to anything he could have considered weak, and it was her that would breakdown those walls. With every ass-kicking she gave him, Lloyd was coming back from that darkened edge.

“We need more people like her,” She stepped into the ring and clicked her tongue against her teeth, hearing Curtis’ vehement defence of Red in her mind, “the world is too jaded. Assholes like you will ignite the earth, angels like her will save it.”

“Firecracker,” the pet name Lloyd gave her was announced to the spectators, and she knew that he was sitting up in his box watching her, “and the Titan-“

“I’m going to enjoy breaking you.” The guard she had seen on patrol earlier that week was her opponent, stacked against her with a nasty sneer on his face. “Send you back to Hansen in crutches.”

“You have your own gravity up there?” She tilted her head, sizing him up with the tenacity and keen eye that Curtis trained her to use. She knew the easiest way to get around him and get him down would be to take him out at the knees, a swift kick would send him down.

He, like so many men who had underestimated her, had relied on their size to intimidate her and so many others. He was a guard, he relied on strength and h8is side to intimidate and scare none he came across but Firecracker was fast on her feet. Curtis had once called her a bolt of lightning for her ability to strike and disappear without being touched.

“I fuck whores like you regularly.”

“You consider your hands whore? How insulting.” She grinned counting down in her head while waiting for him to strike and as his hand had swung toward her, she ducked out of the way, landing a blow to the side of his knee. Her opponents legs buckled, a sharp and startled cry falling from his lip as he fought to stand, giving her another opportunity to kick at his jaw, landing two strikes before he could give her one.

“Bitch-“ He stood and turned on her, the edge of his fist catching her shoulder, the brute force sending her toward a post. She had braced herself for the impact, holding herself still in order to get him closer to her. “I’m going to fuck you up.”

Another strike was attempted and another miss, her avoidance of the blow had set her up to take him down and throw him to the mat. He landed on his back with a thud that rattled the protective screen, the wind knocked from him. She reacted quickly and with intensity, landing successful blows one after the other until the match was called and blood dripped from his lips. Her victory was met with piercing screams and excitement, an endless barrage of chants as the spectators had celebrated the match.

She stood and wiped sweat from her brow, grinning in victory while her opponent lay on the mat breathing heavily, giving him one last dig. “Enjoy your hand tonight.”

[imaginedreamwrite]

Talk to me, I talk back…….Zombie AU Lloyd and his new bride…….she sasses him and he’s like 😳

Soft wind created a gentle breeze that billowed through thin curtains, the warmth of sun beat on her bare arms and she was lucky to consider herself relaxed well enough in spite of her company.

Lloyd Hansen was still licking his wounds from the latest debilitating tirade she had thrown at him after a letter came from the North, and yet again it seemed he was going to receive her bite.

“You denied it.” The proposal was left in her care, as his bride, and while he fully anticipated it to be approved, it had come back denied.

“It was a halfwitted idea, though…” she smirked and raised her head, the classic fairytale book in her remaining open in her hands. “…coming from you I wouldn’t expect better.”

“Firecracker-“ her code/pet name still held significance.

“If he only had a brain…” she grinned, singing the lyric etched in her book. “Maybe there’s a grand wizard that can give you a brain, I think it’d be nice for you to finally have one.”

Silence fell as Lloyd stared her down, his eyebrows furrowed and his lips forming a scowl. He hadn’t moved, hasn’t thought to retort and the new bride of the south revelled in her victory.

“The Wizard of Exitium, grant Leader Hansen an organ he can actually put to use-“

“-mouth off one more time-“

“Empty threats, Lloyd. I’m not afraid of you.”

[imaginedreamwrite]

If they talk about Ari needing mistress just to be able to keep him sated, the two of them would be incredibly petty and keep a record of every time they went at it

Ari and his bride have a small hanging chalkboard with tally marks on it 🤣 Oh my... Johnny 100% encourages reader to do this and Ari is all for it. Seeing as his people are sooo concerned about their libido, he needs to put their minds at ease, doesn't he?

“That’s a new record.” Johnny lifts his glass in approval, barely missing Sue swatting at him. “6 times-“

“They’re so concerned that we can’t take care of each other,” she scoffs and crosses one leg over the other, one of Ari’s bite marks on her thigh visible, “this’ll show them.”

“Nosy bastards.” Ari groaned in discontent, drawing his eyes upon his bride to the visible love bites left behind. “Fuck the counsel-“

“Northie is pregnant.” She set her glass down, systematically silencing everyone else in the room. “Westie told me-“

“Her pet name is Little Red,” Sue corrected Ari’s bride, sipping on the glass in her hand, “and the bride from the West is Bluebird.”

“Little Red is pregnant. Curtis Everett managed to do it after only three nights.” Ariel, Ari’s mermaid/sea loving bride, smiled to herself. “Curtis is good for her, after what Lloyd did-“

“Hansen is going to have his ass handed to him by Firecracker. He deserves it, he’ll be bettered by it.” Johnny shrugged and downed his drink.

“Firecracker got her first withdrawal, so did Red.” She added, glancing back at the board. “With our record, we’ll be next.”

“Better make it seven a day, keep those tallies up.”

[branded-witha-j]

Warning: Dark themes! 18+ only! Do not read if any of the warnings might offend you.

Disclaimer: Do not copy/translate any of my work.

Steve Roger/Bucky Barnes

A Dangerous Thing - dark!mob Steve Rogers x reader, dark!righthand man Bucky Barnes

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Ready to Comply - dark!winter soldier x doctor!reader

Part 1

Part 2

Lee Bodecker

If It Hadn't Been For Love - dark!Lee Bodecker x reader

Part 1

Part 2

Writing Challenges

Buttercup - dark!Lee Bodecker x naive!reader

One Shots

Hellcat - Ransom Drysdale x reader

Special Delivery - dark!Lee Bodecker x reader

Firecracker - Lloyd Hansen x reader

Biting Down - vampire!Bucky Barnes x reader

[branded-witha-j]

I'm so happy you enjoyed it! 💚 Thank you for reading and I'm sure I'll have more Lloyd soon. 😉

Firecracker

Pairing: Lloyd Hansen x reader

WC: 4.4k

Warnings: non/dub con, kidnapping, methods of torture, spitting, biting, butterfly knife, violet wand, double dipping, anal, fingering, forced orgasm, mockery. Dark Lloyd, but that's just the norm.

18+ only! Please heed the warnings. You are responsible for your own media consumption.

Not beta read. All fuckups are my own.

The restaurant is nearly deserted, only a single patron lingering by the bar. He nurses a glass of whiskey, swirling the remains in the bottom of the tumbler. With a crisp haircut and an equally pristine mustache, the thing that makes him stand out the most is his choice of clothing. The flashy print of his shirt is paired with white trousers, the outfit loud and obnoxious. 

Just like the man wearing it. 

You serve him a final whiskey with a message that the bar is closed and he sneers at you as he plucks the glass up from the napkin you placed five drinks ago. 

"I'll leave when I'm ready, cupcake." 

The cutesy nickname makes your teeth grit and you slap down the tab slip before you turn away. Busying yourself with a cloth and a stack of glasses on the opposite end of the bar, you glance up at the clock. It's well past closing. With a frustrated sigh, you wheel around to tell him it's time to pay and go. The words die in your throat, the stool where he perched now empty. Approaching, you toss the cloth down as you realize he left something behind, mouth falling open in shock as you lift up the stack of one hundred dollar bills. 100 one hundred dollars bill. 10 grand. 

The shock of it makes an unexpected giggle bubble out of your chest and you clamp a hand over your mouth as you look around. He's gone, the place quiet, even though the music still plays over the speakers. 

With the cash stowed away in the deep recesses of your bag, you lock up and rush to your parked car, looking around nervously. Falling into the driver's seat, you hit the button to lock the doors, and shove the bag behind the seat. When your fingers brush against something soft and warm, you open your mouth to scream, but a hand clamps over it. The seat belt whines as it's pulled hard, the excess used to loop around your neck and pin you firmly in place. 

"Hi, cupcake." You freeze, eyes straining to look back. His palm covers the lower half of your face, pulling back to bring you even closer. You can feel his lips grazing against the shell of your ear, his breath warm and sweet from the whiskey. You shake your head and he lets his hand drop to your jaw, fingers digging in painfully. "Did you get the tip I left?"

"If that's what you want, it's in the ba–"

His tongue clicks, a growl rumbling up along with a laugh.

"I'm not here for the money, honey." The bristle of his mustache tickles your ear, making you flinch away. 

"Then what do you want?" You whine, both hands coming up to claw at the one gripping your jaw. He tightens until you cry out and drop them in defeat. 

"Good girl." You hate the way his voice purrs. The sight of a gun makes you struggle, the silencer rubbing against your cheek.

You suck in a breath, preparing to scream, and he jostles you hard. 

"Don't even think about it." Your jaw aches from his hold, neck burning from the seat belt. Groping with your right hand, you feel the little spray bottle in the console, fingers wrapping around it. 

The man has been talking, but you haven't heard a word of it over your hammering heart. 

"Are you listening–" The spray of hand sanitizer catches him in the face, his yell loud in your ear. "You stupid bitch!"

You get his hand loose from your throat, lurching forward, but still hung up by the belt. With a violent tug, he brings you back against the seat, pulling so tight you can feel it cutting into your skin. You try to speak, beg for him to stop, but the pressure in your head is unbearable. 

"You really shouldn't have done that, cupcake." The butt of his gun comes down, catching you at the temple, and everything flashes until there's nothing but darkness.

~~~

Excruciating pain is the first thing you notice, the blinding light the next. You wince, eyes pinching closed, and a hand slapping at your cheek forces you to open them. The man stands before you and a broad smile appears as your eyes meet. 

"Well well well, look who decided to join us." You try to pull back, but restraints keep you firmly in place. 

"Why–" Your voice is hoarse and cracks from the simple question. 

"Ralphie." His answer is just as simple and you shake your head. 

"I haven't seen him in over a week. He said he had to disappear–"

"Oh, I've seen him. And he told me to talk to you." A long finger taps you on the nose.

"Me? But I–" 

"Cut the shit! I know all about you." The table you're strapped to lurches sickeningly as he stomps on a pedal near the floor, releasing the lock. You swing up, coming to a jarring stop, the straps burning where they meet skin. 

"I don't know what you're talking about." Your head hangs down, avoiding his gaze. Snagging your hair at the crown, he yanks it back, leaning into your vision. 

"Oh, I think you do. And I'm gonna get it out of you one way or another. Do you understand?"

You refuse to acknowledge him, the man's eyes dropping down to your open mouth. Before you can close it, he spits, giggling as you begin to struggle. You can feel him on your tongue, teeth grinding together as your nostrils flare with rapid, heavy breaths. 

"What's the matter?" His eyes flash and widen, his tone mocking. "Not into that?"

You glare back at him silently, still feeling his saliva pooled on your tongue. 

"Well, get comfortable, we're just getting started."

He releases your hair and you slump forward with a groan. The man paces back and forth, stopping to hook his finger under your chin. You try to jerk your face away, but he catches you with his thumb and fingers, pinching at your cheeks until your lips pucker. His eyes are intense, pupils blown as delight shines through them. He's enjoying this, a voyeur to the confusion and fear that consumes you. 

"I'm Lloyd." He introduces himself, a toothy grin following the introduction. You glare at him, shoulders doing their best to shrug. 

"And? You want to be friends?" Even you surprise yourself with your snarky answer, Lloyd shoving your head to the side as he releases it.

You watch him cross over to a small table, an assortment of items ranging from snacks to tools making your eyes widen briefly. Plopping down into a chair, he crosses his legs, leaning over to grab a chocolate covered almond from a glass bowl. Chewing thoughtfully, he reaches for a manila folder, perching it on his thigh as he reaches for another treat. The folder flips open, whatever is on the pages a mystery to you. 

When Lloyd says your full name, the muscles tense in your body, but you try not to give away the sudden fear that churns in your gut. Your address is next, a sharp inhale burning in your chest. He has everything; your social, your DOB, your blood type, even going as far as to give the results of your last pap smear. 

"Squeaky clean." Lloyd muses, humiliation making your eyes drop. Dropping his leg, he moves to stand up, but feigns dramatically, as if he has forgotten something so important. Tearing a page from the folder, he lets the rest fall to the floor, stepping on the scattered papers as he stands. You stare at the floor, refusing to look at him, but you can feel the heat from his body, a pleasant, expensive cologne distracting you.

"How's your Mom doing? Breast cancer, huh?" 

Your head jerks up and you struggle at the restraints. 

"And your Dad? Just retired after almost 50 years on the force." Lloyd snorts, holding out the paper as if he's reading Shakespeare. "Brother following in Daddy's footsteps. Sister a teacher. I guess they figured one of you had to be a dud."

Eyes burn with tears as your head drops, his words biting more than his fingers as they dig into your jaw to force you to look at him.

"Honestly. Who goes to college and studies Lit for–" Lloyd checks the paper. "5 years?!? Jesus, just get a fucking library card. Would've been a lot cheaper."

His mocking continues as begins to circle around the table, reading more information from the paper. 

"And a girl that loves it up the ass?" 

You flinch, your heart thundering in your chest.

"Your nightstand could be a Toys R Us for adults. I expected a vibrator, there's always a sad little vibe hidden somewhere. But, you have an impressive collection. Is that why Ralphie disappeared? Couldn't handle you?"

Leaning down, his giddy face fills your vision. Standing back up, he snags your hair, and slams your head back against the table. 

"Lloyd–" You yelp out his name and he darts into your vision again, brows arched expectantly. 

"Want to give up already?" 

His smile is taunting, your frown deepening. Before you can stop yourself, you spit in his face. Stepping back, he scoffs in amused surprise, pulling a handkerchief from his pocket. Slowly, he dabs at his face, carefully folding up the cloth before returning it to where it came from. 

"I knew you'd be a fun little firecracker."

He reaches into his pocket again, but a following metallic whisper makes you flinch, the table rattling. Lurching forward, Lloyd presses against you completely, his warmth comforting. The hair of his mustache tickles your lips and you tumble into the depths of his eyes. They're blue, the color almost eaten up completely with black. 

And then he's gone, stepping back to twirl the knife in his hand. Eyes trail up and down your body, taking in your wrinkled blouse and torn dress pants. 

"Let me guess," His finger points up and down your body. "Express? No. Target? Old Navy?"

Your humiliation returns and Lloyd revels in it, smiling smugly as he steps closer. Slipping between the two pieces of fabric held closed by buttons, he drags the blade up until he pops one free. Another and another button pings away, bouncing across the floor until your blouse hangs open. 

The bra underneath isn't cheap and Lloyd's eyes alight with excitement as he takes it in. Tracing the tip over the lace, he brings the edge against the band that holds the cups together. Eyes flicker up to yours and he smiles, pulling away the blade. Stepping back, he drags the nearby table closer, gently placing the knife down. Turning back, you expect to see another instrument of torture in his hands, but they're empty. 

He's close again, parts of his body brushing against yours, and you jolt as his hands lift to frame your breasts. Cheeks burn, eyes looking anywhere but at him, and a snorted laugh makes you cringe. 

"Why are your nipples hard?" Before you can deny him a response, palms slide over, fingers curling under the cups. With a tug, your tits fall out, the rigid underwire tucked under them like a shelf. Lloyd hums, stepping back to get a better view, and his thumbs trace over the hard peaks. 

He's gentle, taking his time to acquaint himself with your skin, his hands coming to rest at the waistband of your pants. The table rattles as you try to pull back, but have nowhere to go. 

"Do they match?" He smirks as he pops the button open, a pointer finger and thumb closing around the zipper tab. He's slow, eyes locked with yours, and you glare back until he breaks contact to look down. "They do."

He crouches, tugging the pants down your hips, knuckles grazing your thighs as he pulls them down to web at your feet. Fingertips slide up your skin as he stands, an exhale prefacing a dreamy smile. Not saying a word, he turns his broad back to you, messing with the items placed on the table. Turning back, he holds up a wand, the thin length ending with a small glass ball. 

"What is th–" The ball doesn't even make contact with the skin of your stomach and a shock makes you yelp out. Lloyd chuckles and hold up the wand, turning it in his hand. 

"This is gonna make you sing, little bird."

He brings it close again, your stomach sucking in to avoid the contact. Clicking his tongue, Lloyd steps closer and traces the tip along the hem of your panties. With each pass, the jolt gets easier, and you're trying to catch your breath when the gusset of your underwear is pulled to the side. 

"Wait!" But he doesn't listen, bringing the wand close to your mound, a whimper choked down. Lower he goes until the lips of your pussy keep him from really getting to what he wants the most. Crouching down, Lloyd uses his free hand to spread you open, a groan floating up from where he's knelt. 

"Well, that's unexpected." His thumb swabs over your clit and your whimper comes out this time, hands twisting and turning in the cuffs. "It would seem you're enjoying yourself, cupcake."

You shake your head, but his fingers are slick with evidence, a growl rumbling from below. The zap makes you scream, the ball hovering over your swollen clit. He has yet to make full contact, and he holds you open while circling around your bud. Your cunt pulses, the pleasure forced out of you with each pass of the wand. 

You scream at full contact, bucking forward so hard the table groan in protest. Slapping a hand against your pelvis, Lloyd holds you in place as you come. The swell of your release is agony, but nothing compared to how it feels as you try to come down. The wand blocks relief, instead bringing with it a pain that can only be harvested from pure torture. You scream for him to stop, thighs rippling from violent shivers. 

Standing, his face comes close to yours, his breath sweet from the chocolate. The wand remains in place and you beg him, eyes locked and pleading. His smile is broad, eyes dropping down to your panting mouth. His kiss is rough, teeth clacking together, and you scream against him as the wand pushes you over again. It hurts, even when he finally pulls it away, replacing it with his fingers. Rubbing at you furiously, you try to clamp your thighs together, trapping him between them. 

The kiss is deep, his tongue swirling around yours until he pulls back with a wet pop. The skin above your mouth is reddening from his mustache, lips swollen and tender. Locking his free hand around your throat, he presses his forehead against yours, his fingers relentless against your clit. He's agony laced with pleasure, long, deft fingers working you over and over until you slump. 

"Had enough?" You don't respond, teeth gritting as he forces your head back up. 

"Fuck you." You don't have the strength to do more than hiss it at him. Pulling back, Lloyd tilts his head, looking you up and down. 

"If you insist." Stomping his foot, the table falls back, your head swimming and dizzy. You feel a tug at your wrists and your arms come together, a double ended bolt snap locking them in place. The tugging resumes at your ankles and the table swings with another stomp, your body dropping onto the hard floor.

It knocks the wind from your lungs, dust puffing up as you cough and wheeze against the floor. Hands scoop under your arms to lift you upright, your back meeting his front as he walks you across the room. He carries you as if you weigh nothing, stopping and circling around to your front. You sway in place, and his hand wraps around the clasp, lifting your arms over your head. Hooking them in place, he breaks contact, forcing you to balance on the tips of your toes. You sway and twist, his hands settling on your sides to still the motion. 

The muscles of your arms burn with quick fatigue, calves cramping as you try to keep all your weight from your wrists. Letting his fingers drift down, they curl under the waistband of your panties and he peels them down. He follows, crouching behind you, and works them and your pants loose from your ankles. You lose your balance, swaying wildly, and his hand at your hips stops it. His face is now level with your ass, thumbs digging into each cheek to spread them. 

You struggle as the whisper of his mustache ghosts along your skin, teeth burning as he sinks them into flesh. He bites harder and harder, right to the point of breaking skin, and then lets go. Admiring the dents his teeth left, he slowly rises, right hand trailing and stopping at the cleft of your ass. 

"Let's see if you like reality over fantasy." The pad of his middle finger cuts down between your cheeks, seeking out your tight hole. Lloyd exhales deeply at the feel of the taut skin, pressing at the narrow opening until it accepts him. You hiss, trying to ignore the stinging sensation, and it disappears along with his finger. His saliva hits right on target and he swirls it around before shoving his finger as deep as it will go. You moan, leaning forward, and his free hand comes up to roughly cup a breast, slamming you back against him.

"Where do you think you're going?"

The second finger sinks in to join the first and the stretch makes your legs tremble. 

"Fuck–" The word comes out breathless and a breathy chuckle by your ear has you tensing. 

"The way I see it, you have two options. This can hurt or I can make it feel really good." His fingers pump in and out of your ass as if to emphasize his point. "So, doll, what's it gonna be?"

You're exhausted, broken, tears beginning to streak down your cheeks. Your body wars with itself, your pussy throbbing at every move that he makes. Your scream is loud, the third finger stretching you open. 

"Good– Please!" You beg, trembling as his intrusion burns with each rock of his wrist. Without removing his fingers, he freezes, chin coming to rest on your shoulder. 

"I'm sorry. I missed that. What do you want?" He shoves his fingers as deep as they'll go when you take too long. Whimpering, you give him your answer loud and clear. 

"Good. I want you to make me feel good."

You cry out as he abruptly removes his fingers, pulling the handkerchief from his pants to wipe his hand. Once done, he wads it up, shoving it into your mouth instead of his pocket. 

"Now," He stops before you and pulls his shirt over his head before continuing. "My definition of good might be different than yours, so bear with me."

Folding his shirt, he places it on the nearby chair, hands meeting at his belt to work it open. Pulling it free from the loops with a hard tug, he drapes it over the back of the chair. Loosening the button and pulling down his zipper, he leaves the pants as they are and steps before you. Cupping your cheek, he pulls your face up, leaning down to speak.

"Which hole am I going to ruin first?" His question must be rhetorical, your teeth gritting together. 

"Just fucking do it, Lloyd. I'm sick of your games." Your frayed nerves force the words out and he chortles into your face. Hands clap on your ass, lifting you easily, and you wrap your legs around him out of reflex, afraid of being dropped. You can feel how hard he is, his cock pressing against the cotton of his briefs. Keeping one hand splayed wide against your lower back, he dips the other into his pants, pulling his cock free.

You watch, unable to look away, his length hard and soft against your mound. You tremble, not from the pull at your wrists, but from the ridge of his tip as he pulls his hips back enough to slice it between your plump lips. Nudging your clit, you jolt, the crystal clear liquid weeping from his slit smeared against the swollen nub.

It feels like time is stolen, his teasing pushing you to the brink, only to be denied over and over again. You suck in a shuddering breath, trying to find enough air to demand he stop torturing you. The pressure at your entrance as his tip catches against it has you struggling, both of his hands cupping your ass as he sinks into you. He burns, stretching you open inch by inch until he's buried as deep as your body will allow. There's so much more he has to give, but you take all you can, his pelvis grinding against yours until you're panting. 

"Who would have thought the Lit major would have such a tight little pussy?" 

You close your eyes, shaking your head, and teeth dig into your bottom lip as he pulls back until just his tip remains. Thrusting up, you pull with your burning arms, trying to run from him, but strong hands bring you back down. Your cervix takes the brunt of his effort, the clasp grinding against the hook as he pounds into you. Letting your head dip down, it rests on his chest, hot breath panted against his skin. 

Rutting into you, sweat erupts across his chest, your own just as slick. All you can feel is Lloyd. All you can smell is Lloyd. He thrives on the sounds of your screams and your impending demise motivates him. When he hikes you up, your hands fall from the hook, your arms dropping to circle his neck. You're moving, the table slamming down just in time for him to pin you against it. Throwing his entire weight onto you, he pounds into you furiously, a hand coming up to throw your arms up and away, his head ducking down. 

Teeth sting at your nipple, the sharp tug making you keen. He leaves marks across the soft flesh, biting down and holding on as he pistons his cock in and out. The table protest as it scoots across the floor, the locked wheels unable to stop Lloyd's violent thrusts. 

You can feel the heat between your legs, your slick dripping down between your cheeks and soothing your abused hole. His promise to make you feel good seems lost in his own selfishness, your hands balling into fists before you swing your arms down to strike at him. Wild eyes meet yours as he takes the first hit and easily dodges the second. 

"You want it rough? Huh?" He darkly chuckles, tearing back from you, your cunt feeling open and empty. Seething and panting, Lloyd glares at you, hands on his hips. His cock bobs, shiny and rigid. You can only focus on it, kicking out as he moves close again. Catching you by the ankle, he tugs hard, pulling you from the table. The wind is knocked out of you once again, the cuffs used to lift and flip you onto your stomach. His weight presses over you and you can feel him between your cheeks, his body shadowing yours. 

Suddenly you wish for his fingers again, his head probing at your ass until he can feel the ring of muscle. 

"There it is." Lloyd sighs out, pushing forward until his tip is swallowed up. He groans, pushing up with his arms to look down. "Fuck, that's hot." 

He pierces into your ass, giving you a few inches at a time. When he slams into you, making you take the rest, you scream out. His pelvis lies flush with your backside, his weight crushing you to the floor.  Lowering his mouth to the shell of your ear, he growls as he pulls back and ruts into you.  You expect words of humiliation to tumble forth, but he’s lost in the sensations, instead growling his appreciation into your neck.  Pants web between his tights, his bare pelvis clapping against your ass as he fucks you open.  Your clit pulses, feeling neglected, and if you had your hands, you would use one to give yourself a reprieve.  Instead, Lloyd does it for you, forcing his hand under until his palm cups your cunt.  Dipping between your lips, the slightest contact makes you shake, your hands clenching into fists.

Pinching your clit, you come hard, shaking under him as he stops moving.  Relief is followed by another sweet sting, his cock pulling from your ass and plunging into your cunt.  He enjoys the swell of your release, rutting in tandem with each pulse of your walls.  As you flutter down, he picks up the pace, pounding into you over and over again until you cry out his name.  You gush around him, his groan of satisfaction joining the staccato of his hips.  Wrapping a thick forearm around your neck, he pulls you back, looking down into your contorted face.

“Give me one more.”  He nods as you shake your head, teeth clenching as he doubles down.  You resist, trying to fight through it, but he gets what he wants in the end.  Eyes roll back as you come, your moans mingling with Lloyd’s groans.  His perfect rhythm stutters, growing erratic and sloppy.  “Good. Fucking. Girl.”

With one final thrust, he spills into you, his cum hot and searing.  Your fluttering cunt milks him, his seed leaking out from around his cock to the floor below.  Rocking, he floats down, puffing out an exhale as he smiles.

“Goddamn.” Both of his hands lift to release your wrists, fingers twining with yours as you both huff.  Kissing at the shiny skin of your shoulder, his mustache tickles as he nuzzles into your neck.  Rolling onto his side, he brings you with him, arms wrapping around you tightly.  

“Lloyd,” You sigh until he hums in response.  “I’m keeping the money just for that Lit jab.”

He barks out a laugh, nipping at your shoulder, and lifts your joined hands to kiss at the raw skin of your wrist.