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thedevilsoftruth · 7 days ago

Text

Drowned In Lavender

Thunderbolts/senator B. Barnes x Afab! (pregnant wife) reader

Summary: Bucky and Sam accidentally run into eachother in Washington. They make a plan to fly back to Brooklyn a few days earlier than Bucky's scheduled return time to surprise you! However, the surprise kind of spoils when you spot them first, and greet them in a very unexpected way.

Genre: 18+ [ MDNI!! I am not responsible for what you find on the internet. ]erotica, romance, sensual, comedy.

Smut tags/warnings: (6k+ words of pure filth.) Reader is 24 weeks pregnant, Sam being hilarious, Massage gone wrong, mentions of guns, Bucky being an amazing fucking husband, reader is VERY horny and needy, reader wears lingerie, beard kink/beard wetting, pussy eating, face sitting, breast play, vaginal fingering, implied squirting. NOT beta read.

Song recommended: Where Life Begins by Madonna.

An: the last congressman Barnes erotica I do before Thunderbolts releases. Also Im terribly sick rn so I apologize if this seems a bit weird. ENJOY!!

[ my marvel request box is back open. Please check out my pinned post for my request rules. ]

"Dude shut up! "

" Is the coast clear, Mr. Barnes? "

Bucky and Sam tiptoed inside the house, Sam closing the door behind them as he whispered like he was in a stealthy hitman game. In reality, all it was was the two men wanting to surprise you with Bucky's return back home. The plan was for Sam to stay with the both of you during the holidays as extra support for you during your pregnancy, however, from all you knew, they weren't going to be back until the end of the week. It was Friday.

The lights in the house were off. It was not what the two men were expecting. In fact, they were kind of hoping you'd be up. It was only 8 pm, after all. Perhaps you went to bed early because you were hurting?

Sam was wandering the kitchen and living room; he had been in your house enough times to know the whole layout of the place. Bucky set his crossbody bag on the marble island in the kitchen with a sigh. He tucked his phone into his back pocket of his jeans.

" I'm gonna go look upstairs. " He told Sam, nodding towards the stairs.

" Can I go up with you? " He asked with a smile. Bucky nearly laughed.

" No. "

Sam persisted.

" Well I just thought, you know, if we were supposed to be surprising her--"

" Just stay down here. " Bucky cut him off, pinching the bridge of his nose. Sam nodded understandingly and shrugged.

" Yeah--no, of course. I get it. Husband-wife things. Totally cool. '' Sam sniffed, shaking his hand and clapping his hands together, his gaze averting from Bucky's. Bucky's face contorted in a cringe, and he mumbled something under his breath as he started making his way up stairs.

He made sure that his footsteps were light as he walked up the stairs as to make as little noise as possible and to not make the floorboard creak. His heart was racing with anticipation as he made it to the top of the staircase. He almost had to restrain himself from running up to your bedroom door.

However, when he finally made it to the top of the stairs, all of his plans to surprise you crumbled to dust when he saw you standing in the doorway if your bedroom door. Pointing a handgun right at him. You squinted your eyes at him, trying to make him out through the darkness. He almost laughed. Again.

" Honey, " he called out from the top of the stairs, his smooth, sweet-and-deep-like-honey voice filling your ears with the familiarity of a favorite song.

" It's just me. " He said, his footsteps soft as he approached you. The moment you realized it was him, you wasted no time to throw the little gun down and run into his open arms. Like everytime, he caught you perfectly and gave you that rich laugh you loved so much. He leaned down and kissed the top of your head, smoothing out your hair with his flesh hand.

" It seems I've taught you well. " He mumbled against your hair. You grumbled and playfully smacked his chest.

" Don't play games like that with me anymore. You scared the shit out of me. " You told him, looking up at him with a tiny smile. Your hand flattened on his chest, near his dog tags. " I thought you were an evil guy who broke in looking for you. "

A light laugh left his mouth, and he ran his exposed vibranium hand up your back.

" Nah. Its just me and uh.. " he looked over his shoulder. You followed his gaze. " That guy. "

Both of your eyes fell on a certain Sam Wilson standing at the top of the staircase. The three of you stood there silently for what felt like an eternity.

" It's good to see you Mrs. Barnes. " Sam said, his usual calm smile spread across his face. " Surprise? "

You blinked. Bucky coughed. You looked between your husband and his best friend back and forth many times, confused.

" Wait--why is he here? " You inquired, looking up at Bucky with curled eyebrows. A mutual feeling of awkwardness filled all of you, and the silence that came with it was so utterly terrible that you started feeling too exposed and hid into Bucky's arms further. After all, you were wearing one of your favorite lingerie sets under the purple robe tied around your body.

Bucky looked at Sam. Sam looked at Bucky. He was not going to speak up; he didn't have the right words to speak. So Bucky opened his mouth after thinking about it, then spoke.

" We were both in D.C, obviously. He had some business to take care of at the White House, and I was at Capitol Hill--as you know, for some very important business. " Bucky began, looking down at you, nodding his head along at he spoke. You were gripping his red wine tie and looking down at your feet, trying to ignore the warm feeling you had been getting in your lowe abdomen all day. Now that he was home, it was only worse.

" We ran into eachother a couple times while up there, and decided that since the holidays were coming up, we'd surprise you with an early visit and stay around for the next few months until you're due. " Sam took over the conversation, explaining to you the details--though you found it very hard to pay attention to him with your mind so fogged up. Bucky's hand lulled up and down your back, making goosebumps rise up your skin.

" And also all of the work that I need to do for the rest of the month will be done from home. " Bucky told you, his hand stilling somewhere on your lower back. It did not take long for him to notice the way you were avoiding his gaze.

" You okay, honey? " He asked you, his voice low like he was asking you directly and didn't want Sam in the conversation. You met his gaze finally and let go of his tie.

" Yeah, I'll be okay. " You responded, your face heating up. You had no idea where this odd feeling in your abdomen was coming from. Just a moment ago you were pointing a gun at him because you thought he was a random dude who broke into your house. Now you were all curled into his body and gripping onto him like a cat to a cat tree.

Bucky hummed and kissed the top of your head again.

" Well now that our plans have been spoiled, what are we gonna do? " Sam asked from afar, fiddling with his hands like he had nothing else to do. Your mind was already going to work, searching for many ways you could respond. Now, you didn't want to be selfish, but your husband had just came back home to you after a long two and a half weeks, and all you wanted was some alone time with him. The mere fact that Sam was even there only fueled that need to be alone with Bucky.

You looked up at Bucky for help, your mind caught in a cross roads. You tapped your fingers against his shoulder for his attention. He immediately took the message as you needing to tell him something important, and he ducked his head down so you could whisper in his ear. Your stomach churned in excitement, and you cupped your hand around the shell of his ear for extra security.

" I need you in the bedroom. " You told him. It was all you needed to say, really, but you weren't even sure if it was entirely what you wanted. Bucky's vibranium hand tightened around it's spot on your waist, and he leaned back so he could whisper his response in your ear.

" Why? What's wrong? "

" I don't know I'm just... Aching and sore--but at the same time you're back home and that does something to me... " You told him quickly, looking over his shoulder to see Sam facing the complete opposite direction of you two.

" Just please... meet me in the bedroom? " You begged him, looking up at him with big eyes. He pulled back a little so you would be face-to-face with him.

" Are you sure? " He asked, his eyebrows curved in worry. You gripped the sleeve of his suit jack and tugged on it.

" Yes I'm sure! " You whisper-yelled into his ear, your teeth gritted.

Sam stood in the background silently, blinking, utterly confused by the whole scenario. He checked his watch for the time, then looked away from the whispering couple and scratched his ear. Obviously he wasn't meant to be listening in on the conversation, but they weren't exactly good at whispering.

Bucky looked at Sam then back at you.

" Okay. Go inside, and I'll be there in just a moment. " He leaned down to peck your lips. " I love you. " You smiled warmly at the kiss and the ' I love you. ' You felt butterflies fluttering in your stomach, and you pursed your lips to hide the smile creeping on your face and tilted your head down.

" I love you too. " You responded quietly before picking up the tail of your dragging, opening robe and ran towards your bedroom. In an instant, the door was slamming shut and you were gone.

And God help him, Sam was trying so hard to be respectful. He was looking at his watch again, like he was actually doing something on it instead of eavesdropping on his closest friends.

" Sam. " Bucky called out for him, almost making him jump. Sam fake coughed and looked up at him, sweating in his suit. Bucky's voice was stern and knowing. Sam gulped hard.

" You should go to the guest room downstairs." Bucky told him, blinking slowly and pointing his index finger downwards as he spoke those last words. Sam couldn't fight the smile that was threatening to spread across his face.

" Alright. I'll do that. " He said, his lips twitching. " But while you two are at it, you might want to spin her that Marvin Gaye vinyl I got you last Christmas. And if you need lube, just hit me up--"

" Ooh, duuude that's weird. We're not gonna have sex with guests over. " Bucky groaned, his face scrunching up in disgust. "Now get the hell out of here before I push you down the damn staircase. " Bucky threatened, his cheeks heated with embarrassment from his friends comment. Sam was cackling at his reaction, clapping his hands together as he turned his heel for the staircase. Bucky inhaled sharply, closing his eyes and mentally preparing himself for what was going to happen the moment he opened the bedroom door.

" Lord help me," he muttered under his breath, curling his fingers into fists by his sides as he walked into the room.

The door opened and shut with a soft click. You were already laying in bed, propping yourself up by your hands, waiting for him. Bucky gave you a soft smile as he took off his suit jacket and placed it down on the blue bean bag next to the door--which the mere sight of gave you, a pregnant woman, a heart attack.

" You okay, honey? " He asked you as he stepped out of his dress shoes. You huffed.

" You ask me that again, and I swear to Odin, James, I will rip your fucking head off and feed it to Alpine. " You warned him in a very flat, very stern voice that made your point clear quickly. Bucky stopped midway through getting undressed, his finger stilling on the top button of his vest when you started speaking. Nothing scared Bucky, but you did whenever you were mad.... and pregnant, apparently.

" Yes ma'am. " Was all he said, along with a fat gulp. He faced you and shimmied out of the black vest. The both of you locked eyes, and that warm feeling inside you intensified. The way his muscles rippled under his white button down as he moved? Basically pornography to your brain.

And the second he was out of the vest, he was on your shared bed and sitting on the edge of it. He sat in front of you with his legs crossed.

" You said you were aching and sore? " He asked, scooting closer to you, grabbing both of your calf's and smoothing his hands over them.

" Yeah. " you sighed, unsure of how to exactly explain to him that you were horny. It was just odd to you because most mom's in your parenting/birthing classes had shared that they found it hard to have a high libido and get wet while pregnant. But here you were, over-sensitive and needy like you were in heat.

And who knows? Maybe your husband already knew what you needed. He was pretty good at reading you, and often told you that you were an open book. Besides, you membered reading online and hearing from the dad's at your birthing classes that pregnancy was a pretty big turn on for them. Maybe Bucky was just as turned on as you were; which got you thinking about the night you started trying for your baby and how crazy and wild he got with you. Just thinking about it was enough to--

Oh no.

You were getting wet again.

" Baby?" Bucky's voice broke you out of the sex-dazed trance you were in. You blinked twice than looked back up at him.

" Yes? " You responded.

" Where are you sore? " He asked you, his sweet voice laced with worry, his lips curled into a frown while he looked at you with his head tilted.

You grumbled.

My pussy, you dumb fuck. You almost wanted to tell him.

" I don't know, " You paused to think. " Everywhere? " Bucky chuckled.

" Baby, that doesn't help." He said. His hands drifted down to the backs of your feet. You shivered.

" Is it your feet? Your back? " He asked, trying to pin point the cause of your issues.

" I mean.. I guess it's my feet. " You mumbled, averting your gaze from his shyly. Bucky made a low sound at that.

" Baby," his eyes raked up your body sympathetically. " Were you on your feet all day? "

His hands ran down your calves, trying to ease any tension in your muscles. The little hairs on your body stood on end with goosebumps as he touched you. You wanted to speak, but you couldn't. So you nodded. He frowned.

" Honey... You know standing all day can put tension on your back and feet. " He told you, his tone now low and serious instead of light and sweet like before. You gulped hard, excitement running through your body.

" I know, I just--I knew you'd be back soon and I didn't want the house to be a mess. " You told him with a pout. Bucky's hummed and leaned down to kiss your calf.

" Well, " he muttered, looking around like he was trying to figure out what to do. " Why don't you lay back and let me relieve you, yeah? "

He smiled at you, kind and charming. You looked back at him and returned the smile as he propped your legs onto his lap.

The moment you felt the cool metal of his vibranium hand and the warm heat of his flesh hand on your skin, you immediately melted. Usually, the temperature differences would make you flinch, but you had been with him long enough that you were used to it.

He ran his thumbs up the arch of your foot, in a straight line, his other fingers dragging along the back of your foot. You shivered and audibly groaned. He smiled.

" My poor baby," he purred. " all swollen and sore. " He thumbed at the ball of your foot, his eyes almost never leaving yours.

" S'okay though. Gonna take it all away. " He mumbled, kissing your knee. You shivered, the tiny wet spot on your panties under your robe becoming unmistakable at that point. It was just the way he was speaking to you. The words he chose along with the tone he chose; it was like he wanted you to squirm in your seat.

And you were.

" Feels good. " You rasped, the back of your hand splaying on your forehead as he slowly kneaded his thumbs into your skin. He stayed like that for a moment, creating different patterns and switching his hand placement frequently until he moved his attention to your other foot, which was arguably worse.

Bucky's mind wandered as he massaged you, his eyes falling down on your stomach as his worked his hands against you. You had gotten bigger since the last time he saw you. You were now on your 24th week, and still as beautiful as ever. In his mind, he started to map out exactly how your baby shower would go, while all you were thinking about was how much you needed your husband.... Mentally and physically.

His thumbs lowered to a certain pressure point on your foot, and your body almost jolted and you moaned softly at the contact. He kept his fingers there, rubbing rough circles into you tight muscles. He looked up and you caught his gaze.

" Right there? "He asked. You hummed, your cheeks heating up at at the warmth in his voice.

" Yeah, " you sighed. He started rubbing harder, his strokes long and persistent. " Oh god, James." You sighed into his touch, letting yourself melt like butter. He smiled proudly.

" I'm glad you feel good. " He said, continuing to work out your sore muscles. " Your pleasure is my top priority. " He told you, all with another kiss to your skin.

That was your breaking point. You needed him to fuck you.

"Baby," you whimpered, your fingers reaching out to tug on his wrist. He knew that voice like the back of his hand.

" Yes? " He looked up at you, rising his head slowly.You bite your lip, your heart pounding. His hands stilled on your ankles.

At a very eased and deliberate pace, your fingers traced up your stomach until they fell down to the knot of the belt that was keeping your robe closed shut around you. You undid the knot quickly, almost like you couldn't bare the thought of wasting another minute with it off. Once the robe fell open, so did your sweet husbands mouth.

You laid there underneath him, now in nothing but a cute little lingerie set that punched the air out of his lungs. It was a see-through babydoll top that was a lavender color and was paired with matching laced panties. The top was cut low, thin and floral laced, and the straps were in frills. The actual cup size was a bit too small for you, and your full breasts were spilling out of it. It was safe to say that it fit you better when you weren't pregnant, but you weren't complaining and neither was he. The opened slit straight down the under bust to the end of the top drove Bucky absolutely Insane. His mouth was open like he couldn't believe what he was seeing.

"Oh. Baby," he groaned, running a hand down your baby bump, which had only grown since the last time he saw you. He lifted you leg and gave your ankle a soft peck before he crawled up your body, settling between your thighs. "Is this why you wanted to come in the bedroom?" He inquired, looking you up and down hungrily, drinking in your appearance like it was the last time he'd see you.

You couldn't do anything but nod. His breath hitched.

"Why didn't you say anything sooner? You know I'd drop everything if you would have told me." He asked, running his hands down your thighs smoothly. You bit your finger.

" 'm sorry." You apologized, your face heating up as he touched you. He clicked his tongue and crawled up your body, bracing his arms at the sides of your head.

"Don't say that, honey." He told you, his eyebrows curling upward worriedly. He leaned in and pecked your lips. "You have nothing to be sorry about."

His tone was reassuring and he ran his hand over your hip, squeezing it gently. Your hand snaked up his vibranium forearm, and curled around the white sleeve of his button down. Bucky dipped his head down to your neck and pressed a hot, wet kiss there, his flesh hand drawing circles over the waistband of your panties.

"I left you too long, hm?" He purred into your ear, nipping at your earlobe. Shivers went down your spine and you uselessly nodded. He lifted one of your legs and spread it wider around his waist, making your hips stretch out in a way that made you moan.

" Sweet girl," he mumbled, planting wet, sloppy kisses all over your collarbone. "You gonna be good and let me touch you? Yeah?" He inquired, looking up at you through his brows. You reacted so quickly that it shocked the both of you.

" Yes--yes--please, oh god. Yes." You gasped, nodding your head frantically and grabbing him everywhere like he was threatening to leave you. He chuckled and sat up a bit so he wasn't directly putting pressure on your belly.

"Lift up for a bit." He told you, momentarily pulling away from you so he could collect a few pillows from the bed. Since you both found out about your pregnancy, a significant amount of pillows had been added to your collection, which Bucky found funny. You sat up, allowing him to fix the pillows underneath you and add more onto it to help support your back.

"There you go." He grunted, stealing a quick peck of your lips before he settled back between your legs.

"Comfy?" He asked. You hummed in response and nodded. He shifted on top of you, placing one arm by your head as he hovered above you. You gulped, the anticipation of what he was going to do to you sparkling through your veins.

Your bottom lip sunk between your teeth as you looked up at him. A cold, metal hand came up to cup your warm cheek, and gently removed your lip from your mouth. Bucky ran the pad of his thumb across your wet bottom lip, caressing your skin lightly before he leaned down to kiss you.

You almost immediately moaned into his mouth the second it was on you. His left hand slipped down your cheek and onto your stomach, his touch feather-light as he rubbed your exposed skin gently.

"Fuck, I missed you." He groaned, his metal hand trailing up your body until it reached your breast. A pitched moan left your mouth when he cupped your breast into his hand, massaging your flesh through the very thin fabric of your lingerie. He could already feel your nipple hardening, the tiny bud nearly peaking out of the top of the lace.

Bucky's lips left yours with a little noise, and he leaned back a bit to get a good look at you; disheveled, messy, panting, the lace wrapped around you doing nothing to hide the beautiful body that lay underneath it.

"Loook at you." He chuckled, his voice gruff and rumbling from somewhere deep in his chest. Your top was pulled downward on your left breast, threatening to spill out, but that was okay. He hooked his finger into the lace and tugged the lace down by the middle, letting both of your breasts spring free with a little bounce.

"So beautiful," he praised, running his palms down the curve of your breasts. "These perfect little things..." He went on, taking them into his large hands, cupping them by your under boobs, purposefully avoiding your nipple. "Feel so heavy in my hands now." He gave them a few gropes before he leaned down and let his hands fall by your sides, keeping himself steady above you.

Bucky's lips hovered above the peak of your breast, kissing your skin gently, his lips tip-toeing around your areola. His beard lightly scratched your skin as he moved his lips against you.

Your body was heaving up and down with his touches greedily, wanting more and more of his love, arching into him, begging for more. His lips dragged across your under boob, to the little spot on your torso where the skin of your breasts met the skin of your stomach. He dragged the tip of his tongue around your areola, the wetness,warmth and pressure of it making your nipple immediately rise up and harden. He repeated this a couple times before he finally wrapped his lips around your tiny bud and began suckling gently.

You nearly scrum and your hands shot to his head, tugging on his hair. Bucky shook his head and hummed In disapproval.

"Gotta stay quiet, babydoll." He told you, looking at you through his lashes. He released your tit with a little wet pop, then gave the whole thing a little grasp.

"I told Sam that we wouldn't be having sex, so shh." He whispered, already moving on to your other breast with a sly grin.

"Think this one wants my attention too?" He said smugly, keeping his vibranium hand on your left breast while his lips were already toying with your right one. For a moment, you mind was flogging with heat and your intense need for your husband, but through the midst of the fog, that last sentence ran through your mind curiously.

"Wait why would you tell him that?" You asked, your eyebrows furrowing. He looked up at you with a confused expression.

"He made a joke about us having sex and I told him he was gross and that we wouldn't do it with him here..." He responded honestly before going back to work, licking at your nipple like it was his only purpose. The moan you made almost immediately shut your mouth.

"Aged nicely, huh?" He joked, later on laughing at his own joke.

"Now c'mere, baby." He said with a grunt, lifting your legs up by the backs of your heavy thighs. "Let me get a nice taste of your beautiful little pussy, yeah?"

The words went straight to your cunt, making you ache for him even more. You made a little noise as you nodded eagerly, watching as your husband slowly lowered his body down yours.

Large, strong hands spread your thighs apart, and Bucky dipped his face between them, eyeing at the little wet spot on your panties.

"Oh baby," he moaned. "So wet," his flesh fingers ran down your slit, making you shiver. "All that just from some harmless touching." His fingers pressed against your center, and you could feel the coldness of the wet, think lace up against your warm slit.

"Feel that?" He moved his two middle fingers side to side on your clothed folds, taking your breath away.

"Yeah," you gasped when you felt his middle finger dip into your entrance, entering you kind of far for being behind the barrier of your panties. You were not expecting things to feel this good. You thought everything was going to feel different with being pregnant. In a way, it did. Primarily because you were more sensitive to his touch than usual, but it didn't feel a bad kind of different.

Bucky lowered his head down onto you more, and kissed your throbbing clit through your panties. You gasped, your fingers threading through his long, thick hair while he mouthed at you.

"This little thin thing," he scoffed, like your underwear personally offended him. "Don't do shit to hide this little pussy." With that, Bucky pulled the elastic band of your panties around your pelvic bone, and let it tap against your skin with a loud snap. Then he gave up and pulled the thing to the side, giving your now exposed pussy a wet kiss before he sat back up.

"Lift up, pretty girl." He instructed, waiting for you to lift up your hips. When you did so, his hands were immediately on you and tearing the useless garment off your body. Once it was off you, he was on you, running his hands up your thighs, eyeing the little mess between your thighs.

"Jesus fuck," he whispered, his eyes running down your wetness. You felt your face heating up In embarrassment, suddenly feeling vulnerable and exposed. You tried to snap your thighs shut when his fingers drifted down your slit, but he just pushed them back open.

"Nuh-uh, baby. Still haven't tasted you yet." He scolded, dipping his head back between your already shaking thighs. The authority in his voice just made you crave him even more.

And god, help you, because the way you moaned when he licked that first stripe up your pussy, was loud enough for anyone within a 500 mile radius of you hear you. And god, help you, with the way his tongue was flicking up and down your aching clit so soft and gently like he was afraid of breaking you.

Your taste flooded his mouth like a favorite treat, making him moan desperately against your mound as his tongue swirled around your folds. Bucky pulled his head back a bit and ran two thick metal fingers down your dripping cunt by the back of his hand like he was petting you. His knuckles dragged across your flesh, the cold band of his wedding ring on his ring finger coming in contact with your pussy perfectly, reminding you of the life you shared together.

His fingers dipped into your entrance, finally, and you welcomed him in--not so easily at first--but welcomed him in regardless. You let out a little displeased moan at the stretch of his fingers, and his hand immediately stilled.

"Baby?" He asked, looking at you wordily. "Are you okay? What's your color?"

You struggled for a moment. Thee muscles in your pussy involuntarily contracting against his fingers, like your body knew that it wanted to be ready for him.

"Yellow? I don't know." You told him, your brows twitching in frustration. Your voice was broken up, like you were about to cry. Buck was immediately in action to relieve you.

"Hey, hey, it's gonna be okay." He told you, kissing your inner thigh, and dragging his fingers against your walls just about an inch before stilling. "Just let me love you, okay?" He kissed the spot on your inner thigh that connected your pelvis to your thigh. "It might feel a bit weird, but thats okay because your body is changing. Just let me make you feel good."

You nodded your head understandingly, your eyes watery as he slowly moved his fingers into you. You winced again, but he made up for it with a kiss to your clit. He gently nipped at it as he slowly, very very slowly, dragging his fingers in and out of your cunt.

It had been months upon months since he last made love to you like this. He was always busy with Congress--senator stuff, always out of state, and never really had enough time to put on the side for you for intimate moments like this. Hell, he even had some work that he had to take care of the next day downtown super late into the afternoon. But that was fine. He didn't need to worry about it as long as he was between your thighs.

After a while, you started to opened up to him as he sunk deeper, and when he did, your moans grew louder. His fingers curled against a soft, almost squishy spot inside you that sent you flying. Your hands shot into his hair, curling your fingers into fists, your hips bucking against his face as he repeatedly hit that same spot.

"James--oh, baby--oh, fuck!" You moaned, your head flying back and your back arching. Bucky gave you a cocky grin, the sound of his name on your lips, all with that cute little moan running straight to his cock. But he knew he couldn't have his fill yet. Your pleasure always came before his, no matter how long it took for you to cum, and especially no matter if he didn't get to cum either.

Your already sore hips trembled against his face, your knees going weak as you desperately started grinding against his face, seeking more and more friction.

"Right there, babydoll?" He asked, his voice gruff and low, his finger curling and pushing in and out of that special spot repeatedly, drawing out long, needy moans out of you.

"Yes, fuck! Don't stop, baby. Ooh." You begged through broken up cries. He grinned and wrapped his lips around your twitching clit, sucking on it harshly and making you scream. Usually, he would want you to scream like that and go crazy, but at the moment, you both had company. His best friend kind of company.

"Shh, baby." He hushed. "what'd I tell you?" He questioned, stilling his fingers and pulling back from your core just a bit. You whined at the loss of contact, and he gave your wet pussy a little smack as a warning. You yelped, your eyes opening back up.

"Told 'm to be quiet." You responded, your breath shaky and your words slurred.

"Good fuckin girl." He growled through gritted teeth, putting his mouth back on you--rougher and messier than last time. It did not take long for his finger to find that special spot again. His fingers worked with his mouth In perfect harmony, his tongue flattening against your folds while he shook his head.

You had to muffle your moans by biting the heel of your hand, your thighs trembling around your husband's head out of control, your hips jerking.

God damn, everything felt like heaven. The little scrape and drag of his beard against your flesh as he ate you out only added to the sensations even more. But that was fine, because you preferred him with a fuller beard.

Your mind was so hazy and foggy as he absolutely devoured you, and for a moment, you felt like you wouldn't be able to speak anything until--

"You're growing your beard out." You commented. He hummed against your cunt, not hearing you the first time with the way your thick thighs were squishing his head and blocking his ears.

"Hmm? What was that, babydoll?" He asked, his heavy lidded blue eyes looking up to meet your gaze. You were so fucked-out that you almost forgot that you had even said anything.

"You're--fuck, mm... Growing your.. beard out." You repeated, this time between heavy moans. He grinned.

"Oh yeah? I thought you'd like it." He mumbled against your clit, punctuating his words with little suckles. He looked up at you again, grinning, the wrinkles at the corner of his eyes deepening.

"You wanna come sit up on my face and wet it?" He asked you, nuzzling his lips over your clit with a slight shake of his head. You gasped at his words, an electric shock of lust running straight to your core.

"Wha--"

But it was too late. He was already pulling away from you and sitting down on the bed next to you.

"James--"

"Come on, pretty girl." He said, his tone condescending and almost mocking. "You brought this upon yourself. Now get on." He persisted, laying down on his back, adjusting himself near the headboard. You stammered, shocked, your mind going through so many different emotions.

"But i--"

He cut you off. Again.

"If this is anything about your weight, I don't fucking care. I tell you that everytime." He told you sternly with knitted brows. "Now come sit on my face, baby. Wanna feel your weight all on me."

His strong hands went to your hips, lifting you up gently. You wanted to protest, but your body betrayed you and moved before your mind did. Your knees dug into the silky lavender sheets underneath your bodies--the ones that you personally picked out, of course--and the bed creaked under you softly. Bucky was already moaning before you even lowered your face onto him.

"Mm, that's right, sugar." He moaned, placing his hands on your hips, positioning you onto his face perfectly, before he forced your body down onto his mouth.

"James!" You squeaked, gripping the headboard, feeling it rattle under your moving bodies.

"Shh, baby." He hushed you again, giving your sensitive clit a kiss. "Just let me make you feel good. You need this." He groaned, lapping his tongue around your cunt. You couldn't even protest him. Not with the whimpers leaving your lips and the way your pussy twitched whenever he kissed you too gently or pulled away from you.

Your poor little cunt was just too sensitive at that point. Any slight movement he made sent you down a spiral of primal need. So, you started rocking your hips against his face. This position let you feel the little facial hair on his jaw even better, snd each time it brushed against you, your eyes rolled back snd your thighs clenched around his face.

"James..." You whined his name, the sound going straight to his cock.

"Yeah baby?"

He licked a straight line up your cunt. You gasped.

"Never ever shave your beard, you hear me?" You told him, your voice low and threatening. He chuckled, the vibrations making your pussy ache. You whined.

"Will you cut off my head and feed it to Alpine?" He joked. You huffed.

"Oh I'll do so much more than that." You laughed darkly, driving against him faster and harder despite the very obvious ache in your hips and stomach.

He moaned against your cunt, his grip on your hips growing tighter. He forced you to still for a moment. All so he could suck and kiss your tiny little over-sensitive clit.

And there it was. Your breaking point presented to you on a silver platter.

Your head lulled back and your eyes shots into the back of your head. Your hand went down to tug at his scalp.

"Yes, yes!" You gasped. "Right there, baby--f'me. Mmmah! There. Fuck." You babbled, repeating the same words over and over through broken sobs. Fuck, Bucky had promised himself that he'd be quiet during sex, but he just gave up at that point from how hard he was getting off at your moans.

"Yeah? That's the spot, honey, huh?" He smiled, placing wet, hot, sloppy and open-mouthed kisses in your pretty, pulsating cunt. The tip of his tongue circled around your tiny bud and--just like that, you were gone.

The insides of your pussy convulsed, and your thighs snapped shut around your husbands head as you absolutely fell apart on his tongue. Your poor pussy spamsed violently as you came hard, your cum spurring all over his face wildly.

Bucky could not fight how happy it made him to see you like that, falling apart for him in a fashion as intense as this. He held your body down on his face until he almost suffocated, all so he could drink from the fountain between your legs.

"Fuck baby. So fucking messy." He moaned, closing his eyes, letting a little bit of you drip right into his mouth before he was back on you.

"Just can't help yourself, hmm?" Bucky cooed, lapping up the rest of your juices. You whined, shaking your head, biting your finger and drooling all over it while you helplessly whined at his touch.

When he was done, he gently guided you back down onto the bed next to him.

"Easy, easy." He said sweetly, his touch light and loving as you laid back down on your back. He kissed you deeply once you were settled and comfortable. You didn't realize how sore you were until you were immobile. When his hand drifted back down to your hip, you groaned into his mouth.

"You sore, baby?" He asked, kissing your cheek. You shifted in your seat uncomfortably.

"Yeah." You sighed, hating that aching sensations you were feeling. Your breasts had gone tender and your lower back had that awful pain running through it. But what was there to fear when your husband was there with you.

"I'm sorry. Didn't mean to keep your legs open that long." Bucky chuckled, gently kneading your sore flesh in his hands. You chuckled too.

"That's okay. We really needed that. Plus, I really enjoyed myself." You told him, your eyes sleepily fluttering shut while he random his hands over your sides. Bucky hummed, a soft smile playing on his lips.

"That's good, baby. That's all I need to hear." He said, kissing your belly--which happened to be the best decision he had made that night because right when his lips touched your skin, you both felt a little movement in your belly.

Your eyes shot open. He looked at you shocked. You looked at him shocked.

"Did you feel that?" You asked him. The look on his face was the very obvious answer to your question.

A soft smile spread across his face. He could not believe what he had just see. It was mostly insane for you because you hadn't felt the little one kick in the past two days. Hey here they were, moving against you like it knew their daddy was there and missed him as much as you did.

Bucky looked up at you with a dopey smile.

"Yeah." He said. "We're gonna be parents."

#first post in a long time yall #sincere apologies sre in order #i needed to get this out before that fucking movie comes out!! ugh!!#thunderbolts*#thunderbolts #thunderbolts bucky #congressman barnes #congressman bucky #thunderbolts bucky smut #bucky #bucky smut #bucky x reader #bucky x f!reader #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x you #james buchanan barnes

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 days ago

Text

Triumvirate 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, abuse by parental figure, kidnap, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Based on this.

Summary: Three men take you away from an unhappy life.

Characters: destroyer Chris, Captain Syverson, Curtis Everett.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t

The tearing in your roots makes you whine. Your mom twists until your scalp feels ready to split, dragging you down the hall as she snarls. He pushes open the screen door and hurls you out with every ounce of spite. You stumble down the crooked steps and land in the dirt.

“You no good fucking bitch,” she spits beside you. “How many times I gotta tell you to get out!”

You turn over and look up at her. She snarls and puffs like a rabid beast. Her glare scalds. She hates you so much. She always has.

She slams the screen door, then the inside one. You sit up and fix the backless sneakers on your feet. You check the scrapes on your knees and sigh. It’s not the first time, it won’t be the last time.

How could you know she had someone over? You didn’t hear them. You thought she’d be happy to see the dishes done but that chore only riled her. She broke three plates before she latched onto you. Scratches blaze on your head.

You get up and look across the street. Leah watches from her front porch, shaking her head as she puffs on a menthol. No one does anything. They only judge. Around here, it’s not exactly unusual.

Your purse is inside, your phone too. Shoot. You’ll have to wait her out. Whoever she’s got in her room probably gave her some pills. She’ll be out of it soon.

You’re not proud of that thought. You should be concerned. You used to be. Now you just accept what she is. You rely on it. Her addiction keeps her weak; keeps her from hurting you worse.

You turn and trod along the street. You could go down to the corner shop and ask Darren to spot you a gatorade. He’s usually pretty understanding. He knows your mom and that you always come to pay for whatever she wanders out with.

Twenty-one years. It doesn’t feel that long, yet it’s still an eternity. Things never change, they only get worse. Your mom’s hair turns gray and the lines in her face get deeper and her speech more slurred. You only get weaker, more tired, more passive. It’s just the way is. Why fight? Fighting only gets you hurt.

A truck rolls by and the tires dust up dirt. You cough at the tan paint above the silver bumper. You watch the exhaust chuff out down the street and veer around the corner, just past the corner shop.

You approach the Penny Mart and shield your eyes against the sun. The truck idles further down the street. You shrug and continue inside.

Darren pop gum between his teeth. You wave and head for the fridges. You take out a red gatorade and come back to the counter.

“Can I come back later?” You ask. “Mom locked me out again.”

He gnaws on the gum and shakes his head, “uh uh.”

“Oh?” The door chimes as another customer enters. “You know I’m good for it.”

“Manny says no,” he shrugs. “Your mom threw a box of cereal at him.”

“She... did?” You’re overly aware of the man behind. He clears his throat. “Alright then, guess I’ll put this back.”

“Well, you know... I could bend the rules,” he smirks and winks. “Come in the back...”

You grimace. “I’ll put it back.”

You turn and march away, skin crawling at his suggestion. It’s not the first time but for him to do it in front of someone else, that’s humiliating. You open the fridge as the man steps up to the counter.

“I’ll take a pack of lites and twenty on the pump. Throw in a red gatorade,” he says.

You shut the door and drag your feet across the unmopped tile. This place matches the neighbourhood. You’re sure the prices help distract from the expiry dates, too.

Footsteps circle around the shelves. The fridge opens. A whistle keeps you from leaving. “Girl, come get your drink.”

You stop and turn to face the man. His head is shaved close but he sports a thick goatee. He wears a sleeveless flannel, the peek of a chain shimmering around his neck.

“Um, me?”

“Come on,” he beckons you. “Hot day out.”

You hesitate and cross the store. People aren’t all rotten around here. Mrs. Haggin fed you more times than you can count and Ted let you hang around his garage on the hotter days. Still, strangers aren’t common and aren’t often friendly.

“Thanks, uh, you didn’t have to do that.”

“Two bucks,” he clucks.

“Right.”

Two bucks you don’t have. Pathetic. He holds the door open and you retrieve the same bottle of Gatorade.

“Thanks again,” you say.

“Never know. One day, someone might help me out,” he sniffs.

He lets the door fall shut. You turn and walk away. He follows. You have a bad feeling as he stays close. He pushes the door open above your shoulder before you can.

Stupid. He probably expects the same thing Darren wanted. You step out and to the side.

“I can’t pay you back,” you offer the bottle.

“Keep it,” he waves you off and drops off the pavement ledge onto the tarmac. “Have a good one.”

“Oh, uh...”

He walks away. Not a look back at you. You watch him approach the truck by the pumps. Tan with a silver bumper. They must’ve needed the top-up.

You kick off the curb and drag your feet away. You’ll go down to the park and find a table in the shade. It’s swelter. The sun beats down on you mercilessly.

You peel away the wrapper and twist the nozzle on the bottle. You drink thirstily as you step on the cracks in the pavement. ‘Step on a crack, break your mother’s back...’

The truck rumbles back at the shop and you hear it rolling toward you. It passes slowly and you pretend to examine the label of the bottle. As nice as it was, you’re not stupid. It’s pity. Everyone feels bad for you, but they don’t really care.

You follow the trail through the tall grasses behind the condemned donut shop down to Smith’s Park. It’s not much of one. Mosquitoes buzz over a pond not much bigger than a puddle, tadpoles swirling in the shallows, and the trees sway over splintering benches and rotting picnic tables.

You sit and suck on the bottle. Couple of hours and you can go home. Home... not really where you belong, just always where you’ve been.

The brush rustles but you don’t pay any mind to it. There are coyotes around here but they’re skittish. Squirrels too but you don’t have much for them to steal.

You put your elbows on the table and peel off the label on the bottle as the condensation soaks through. You lay it out flat on the wood. The dingy smell of the neglected boards clings in the air.

A twig snaps. You look up as a shadow passes between the bushes. Some kids will come down to catch tadpoles. You did when you were young. Your mom dumped the toads down the toilet once they grew.

Another crack. You twitch and look over your shoulder. You grip the bottle and turn straight. Your voice catches as you’re face with an unexpected best. A man in a ski mask.

It’s so absurd, you think it’s a joke. Some of the hunters like to mess around but this isn’t the area for them. It’s not thick enough. They go up north.

He’s big. The epitome of burly. He wears a grey tee shirt damp with sweat and cargo pants. He stares at you through the slits of his mask.

“Um,” you stand. “Sorry, I was just...”

You step over the bench and turn to head back down the trail. There’s another man. He’s in all black. He must be melting in this heat. You reel back.

“Oh...” the back of your knees hit the bench. “I think...” you sidle along. “I’ll just...”

You turn and run towards the thicket of wiry bushes. Before you can reach them, another man in another mask pops out. He wears a sleeveless flannel...

You throw the gatorade at him and spin back. You’re caught by the other two men.

“Shhh,” the one behind you hushes.

You struggle with them, kicking the dirty, writhing as they twist your arms behind you. The man at your back secures your wrists together as the peel of duct tape tears through the hum of insects.

“Please, who are you? Stop!” You whine. This can’t be happening. What the hell is this?

The man in black keeps hold of your upper arm and signals with his other hand. A cloth covers your eyes. You whimper as it’s knotted behind your head. Another is shoved into your mouth. You gag. You’re shushed again.

“It’s alright, darlin’,” you think the bigger man says. It comes from his direction as the man behind you pets your hair. “We ain’t gonna hurt you.”

“Quiet,” another warns. “Get her legs.”

You fight to evade their grasp blindly. You kick out and your ankles are seized and forced together. The duct tape winds around your ankles.

Your eyes water behind the cloth. It’s more than fear, it’s realisation. You’re not going to go home, but worse, you don’t think anyone will care. They won’t even notice.

You babble around the fabric in your mouth. You choke as you’re taken off your feet, carried between two men like luggage. You’re just a thing. Why is this happening to you?

You squirm and shake, trying to break away from the arms hooked around your torso and legs. A hinge creaks, a car door, then another metallic whine. No, it’s not a car.

You’re loaded into the truck bed and strapped down to the ridge metal. You blink as your eyes burn. You quiver in horror as you sense a deep darkness cast over you and the truck lurches. The door of the bed snaps shut and closes you in.

Weight shifts in the axel as the muffled noise of the doors opening seep through. You whimper as the engine rumbles to life. You try to roll one way or the other. You can’t.

The way they worked, so methodical, it assures you that there is no escape. There’s no loophole for you to find. You’re stuck. That suffocating realisation constricts in your chest. No, no, no. It can’t be real.

You shudder and replay the scene in your head. It happened so fast yet as you relive it, it feels like slow motion. The large man, the man in black, the third one in his...sleeveless flannel.

The cloying flavour of sugary electrolytes stick to your tongue. You shudder. The man in the store. He followed you? Why?

Think about it. What did he see? A woman with no money. A woman alone. A woman wandering off into the shadows.

How stupid. You would never expect it. Never think that anyone would bother. You always just stay out of the way and no one bothers you. Only Darren and his gross leers. Only Rob next door when his wife’s not talking to him.

The truck bounces over the road. You can hear the other cars around you as they head into the city. Right through the mid-afternoon rush. How many people are driving by completely unaware of you hidden in the back.

The pit in your stomach deepens and you whine. You try to scream. You can’t. You try to kick. You can’t.

These men are taking you who knows where to do things you can’t imagine and there’s no one coming to save you. Just like no one ever came to save you from your mom.

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its-a-me-mango · 2 months ago

Text

Oh hey... it's been a while Telly...

Everypony, this is URGEN, and I need your help, I have a sad TV that needs cheering up, can you help me? You guys think you can help me? Pretty please?

THIS IS A FUN LIL OC/SONA DRAWING/WRITING/WHATEVER EVENT THINGY AND YOU'RE INVITED TO TAKE PART!!!

INFO BELOW THE READ MORE!

Hi welcome to below the read more, nice down here innit.

THIS IS NOT AN EVENT WHERE YOU SUGGEST THINGS TO ME, THIS IS FOR YOU TO DO, I WILL BE IGNORING ANY ASKS RELATED TO REQUESTS FOR ME TO DRAW!

Anyway so as I said, you're invited to have your sona, your OC, your AU or heck even one of the SMG4 crew help cheer up Telly! You can do this in anyway you like, wethers it's taking them out somewhere nice like a park or city, to playing games with them, or just hanging out with them! You're in charge of picking out something fun for your character of choise and Telly to do together! They love doing anything as long as its with friends so you're welcome to do pretty much anything!

You can also make this in an medium you'd like, be it art, comics, writing, or anything else you can think of, there is no strict medium this has to be done in so go wild and most importantly have fun!

For the sake of keeping things clear in the SMG4 tag, you can use #SMG4CheerUp as the tag for this event, you are obviously free to @ me but if not, I will check the above tag instead.

Before I go any further, just want to make this clear:

THERE IS NO PRIZE! THERE IS NO DEADLINE! THIS IS JUST FOR FUN!

THIS IS NOT A COMPETITION

Just saying this as I don't want people expecting anything from me in return for this, nor do I want people putting themselves down or comparing themselves to others, I want people to have fun for the sake of having fun.

I'm obviously not super stricks on rules as this is for fun but I do have a few requests:

No just straight up brining Mr Puzzles back, that kinda defeats the point. You're more than welcome to use your AU or OC version of Mr Puzzles for this, but no actual Mr Puzzles, let him rot in prison for a bit please.

I know I said you're welcome to do pretty much anything but please keep your work age appropriate! Telly is meant to be no older than 10 at max so nothing too outrageous please! I don't mind a bit of angst or anything like that but you know, be nice to the kid alright, I will kill you otherwise /j

Also for this please don't use their teen/adult design, this is focused on them as a kid so please keep them as one, no aging up to do anything not age appropriate please.

Please keep in mind that Telly is mute and cannot talk! They can write/type to talk (as they don't know sign language yet) and they can make static noises, but no actual speaking for them!

TELLY USES THEY/THEM PRONOUNS AND NOTHING ELSE, PLEASE JUST REFER TO THEM AS A CHILD/KID

That's all I could think of lol, will add more if I think of anything else.

TELLYS REF IS HERE FOR ANYONE WHO NEEDS IT (it is also linked on my pinned post at all times) I'm not overly strict on design so feel free to add your own lil details to them, I think it's fun! :3

My media asks are off for now, as I'd rather people make their own posts, it's what Tumblr's for and I wouldn't want anyone's amazing work to sit and rot in my inbox! I will be reblogging everything I promise.

You're welcome to ask me any questions but my response will likely be either "yes" or "if it's fun for you go for it!"

There is no deadline as stated, but I'll say this is open for at least a month-ish, or at least until Mr Puzzles comes back or something lol (watch that be, this week! wow how short lived /j)

ANYWAY WITH ALL THAT OUT THE WAY, GO FORTH AND ONCE AGAIN, HAVE FUN ABOVE ALL ELSE!!! :3

#smg4 #smg4 oc #smg4oc: telly #mango art #smg4cheerup #ohhh you wanna draw the tv child you wanna draw them soooooooooooo bad oooooooooooooooo look at themmmmmmm #can't wait for. no one to take part! what a fool I'll look like then! /j

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sister-lucifer · 1 year ago

Text

Goodnight, Darling

Lucifer x Gender Neutral Reader

Summary: Reader cant sleep, so they decide to go find Lucifer

Genre: Fluff

Content/Warnings: Lucifer and Reader already have a bit of a relationship but it’s mostly implied, Luci being sweet, very eepy reader

Like my writing? I take requests! NSFW or SFW for any fandoms in my bio (request rules + masterlist in pinned post)!

Also, please reblog! it’s free, takes two seconds, and really helps me out

Feedback is encouraged and appreciated:)

Not fully proofread! Let me know if you see any errors!

You’re not sure what time it is now, and you don’t care to turn over and check. The only sound in your room is the rain thundering down from the night sky, tapping on your window in a soft, erratic rhythm. It’s dark, but not too dark, a bit of light can still reach you from the hallway. Your blankets are as comfortable as ever, thick but not heavy and just warm enough. It’s the most ideally peaceful environment you could ever imagine.

So why aren’t you asleep?

You’ve been asking yourself that for almost an hour now. By all means, you should’ve been out like a light. You spent all day today running errands and scampering around to do all those things you didn’t have time to this week. You’re exhausted.

So why. Aren’t. You. Asleep?!

You groan in frustration and stretch out a bit before turning onto your side. You stare at the wall for a few moments, wondering what else you could do.

It’s too late to make tea, you’ll make too much of a ruckus in the kitchen.

The only melatonin in the house is used by Asmodeus, and he guards his beauty sleep with his life. There’s no way you could sneak into his room.

It’s probably not a good idea to do any sort of engaging activity, that’ll just wake you up more.

Nothing, nothing, nothing. Maybe you’re doomed to just lay here until the end of time. You’re starting to wonder if you pissed off one of the brothers enough for them to curse you.

Wait.

One of the brothers…

There’s an idea.

Before you can stop yourself you’re out of bed and on the ground, carrying a blanket with you on the way. You waste no time getting out of that stale room, and soon you’ve started down the hallway. Your feet patter softly on the pristine tile floors, and the only other noise is the rain coming down outside and video game soundtrack from behind Levi’s closed door. It’s definitely bedtime in the House of Lamentation.

As you pass by the rooms of the younger brothers, you debate for a split second stopping by each of them, but you don’t. Levi won’t be going to sleep any time soon, Mammon sleep talks, Asmodeus is too stingy about his beauty sleep, Satan kicks in his sleep, and the twins’ unbearable snoring will certainly keep you awake.

But that’s alright. You’re not looking for any of them. You’re headed for the red door at the end of the hall that’s cracked open just slightly, allowing some soft lamp light to leak out.

You knew he’d still be awake.

You press your palm to the door and gently push it open, the soft creaking alerting Lucifer to your presence. He looks up from the book he’s reading in bed, quirking a brow upon your appearance.

“…Human?” He questions, but he doesn’t seem unhappy to see you in the slightest.

“What are you doing here? At this hour, no less.”

“I’m alright,” You assure him, shutting the door behind you, “I just can’t sleep.”

He gives a nod of understanding.

“I see. And you think I can help with that?”

“Mhm,” You reply simply. You walk up to Lucifer’s bedside, not saying anything but silently asking for his attention with just a look. You clutch the blanket you brought to your chest, making your intentions clear.

Lucifer sighs.

He looks at you for a long few moments, and you almost think he’s going to say no.

But then he marks his page, shuts his book, and sets it on the beside table. He opens his arms and pats the bed next to him.

“Come on.”

A tired smile breaks out on your face, and you eagerly crawl into bed next to Lucifer. You fit perfectly up against his side, and his warmth is the perfect sense of comfort in the cold HoL. You curl up a bit, trying to get as close to him as possible. He wraps an arm around you as you pull your blanket over yourself, sighing with content when you finally, truly feel like you could fall asleep.

“…Comfortable?” Lucifer asks. You only nod in reply. You don’t see it, but he smiles at you before he leans down to kiss your head. He reaches over to turn off the lamp before making himself comfortable as well, though he’s careful not to disturb you.

After a few moments, you feel him stop moving, and your eyes slowly fall shut.

“Goodnight, Lucifer…” You say softly.

“Goodnight,” He replies in kind.

“I love you,” You add without thinking.

And then there’s silence. For a second your eyes open, and you worry that maybe that wasn’t the right thing to say. Lucifer inhales slowly before finally giving his answer.

“…I love you too,” He says, giving you a little squeeze.

You relax completely at that, your eyes shutting one more. You lay there only a moment or two before finally, finally, you can feel yourself falling asleep.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #lucifer #lucifer obey me #obey me lucifer #lucifer x reader #lucifer x reader fluff #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me lucifer fluff #obey me fluff #obey me x reader #fluff #gender neutral reader #obey me x gender neutral reader

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k1ng-ej · 2 months ago

Note

I saw you were doing Shadow the hedgehog requests, I was wondering if you can make shadow x reader having a picnic in a warm day, thank you

Tastes like strawberry

Note: Thank you for the request! this one is a little shorter, but i hope you enjoy! for anyone interested in sending a request, check out my pinned post for rules & info.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀୨ ₊ ┈ ⪩⪨ ┈ ₊ ୧

. . .

The sun cast warm, refreshing rays to the earth beneath her, allowing plant life to receive the sunlight it needed for growth, and providing the perfect day for everyone to get out and enjoy a breath of fresh air. You were sat at home, gazing out of your window and awaiting your boyfriends return. Today proved to be a nice day, and you desired to go out and enjoy it, instead of staying inside and missing out on the comforting weather. The harsh winters recently made you miss the warmth and beauty of summer, and so you were excited for when Shadow returned from his trip to the market. You had eagerly asked him if he could spend a few hours outside with you, and he agreed, needing a day of peace to relax. You told him you wanted to have a picnic, but didn't have any fruits or snacks to bring, he offered to make a quick trip to grab some.

With a sigh, you pushed yourself up from the couch and strolled into the kitchen, beginning to prepare waters and simple sandwiches to bring along with you. You heard the click of the front door opening and poked your head around the corner to see a familiar raven hedgehog stepping in. He ran a frustrated hand through his highlighted quills, which were due for a touch up soon. Quickly, you washed your hands and hurried over to him. You took the paper bag that carried the fruits you requested from his hands, and placed them on the kitchen counter.

Taking Shadows gloved hands into yours, you offered him a warm smile. "Hey, try and relax today, okay?"

He had a tendency to take on workloads greater than he could handle, he wanted to believe he could take on multiple problems at once, but it would lead to him being overworked and stressed, which in the end, made him moody and not fun to be around.

With a quick, subtle nod, Shadow snaked his arms around your waist and rested his chin on your shoulder, inhaling your comforting scent. You smiled, beginning to gently stroke the top of his head. You knew better than trying to force a conversation with someone who already didn't like them, and on top of that was stressed out of their mind. Today was a day for you two to relax together and enjoy each other's presence, and the warm weather.

Reluctantly, you pulled away from his embrace and got to work washing the fruits and putting them into containers to bring along for the picnic. Shadow had made himself comfortable on the couch, enjoying the pleasant silence that settled in your home. Not long after, you two were setting off towards a secluded spot for the picnic.

Arriving in a small field, beneath a large tree that provided some shade, Shadow threw down a soft blanket over the lush grass before settling down. The field you two were in was beautiful, with blooming flowers and fluttering butterflies, the breeze was warm and provided a relaxing environment. Shadows expression seemed much more relaxed in this setting, the crease between his brows seemed to have less tension, and his lips rested in a fine line. You enjoyed seeing him like this, it was a rare sight, and you learned to savor every moment of it. With a content smile on your face, you sat down next to Shadow, placing the basket of goods in front of you. You felt a sudden weight on your shoulder, when you looked over you were greeted with the sight of your boyfriend resting his head on your shoulder, eyes fluttering shut.

Your heart swelled, and you reached into the basket and pulled out strawberries along with some chocolate you had melted before. You knew Shadow was not the biggest fan of sweets, but he seemed to enjoy chocolate covered strawberries a lot. Most weekends, if he were home, he would pepper you with kisses while shyly asking if you could make him some, it was an adorable interaction, The Ultimate Lifeform asking you to make him his favorite treat instead of buying cheap, store bought ones.

Dipping a strawberry into the chocolate, you brought it up to his mouth. "Open."

He quirked his brow, but parted his lips for you. You fed him the chocolate covered strawberry, he hummed with confusion, which then turned into a hum of satisfaction as he chewed.

"Good?"

"It's good, thank you." His eyes slowly opened as he lifted his head to look at you. His gaze was filled with nothing but affection for you, it made your heart warm.

You chuckled, reaching your hand up to his face and wiping away some chocolate that smeared. Bringing your thumb to your lips, you licked the excess. You watched as Shadows eyes slightly widened, and he stared at you with a blush creeping up his cheeks. Before you could ask him what was wrong, his hand was cupping your cheek and his lips were pressed against yours in a deep kiss. Your heart skipped a beat, his fur was soft beneath your fingertips as your arms instinctively wrapped around his neck, pulling him flush against you. You felt him smile against your lips, his free hand moving to the small of your back. His tongue pressed against the entrance of your mouth, and with pleasure you allowed his tongue to slip past your lips. He had the subtle taste of chocolate and strawberry on his tongue. A soft moan rumbled in his chest, a delicious sound that ignited butterflies in your belly. You yearned for more, to have him closer, despite having him pressed against your chest, but your lungs begged for air and you would have to part from the kiss.

With flushed cheeks and swollen lips, you rested your forehead against his, breathing heavily. He looked at you with half lidded eyes, and parted lips as his thumb tenderly rubbed your cheek.

"Shadow…" You began, fingers unconsciously twirling the fur on the back of his neck.

"Shut up." His tone was soft and sarcastic as he pulled you into another kiss, but this time it was brief, just to get another taste of your lips and hear the delectable sound you made when his lips connected with yours. When he pulled away this time, he shuffled to rest his head in your lap, demanding you to feed him more strawberries, to which you happily obliged.

#fluff #x reader #oneshot #shadow x reader #shadow the ultimate lifeform #shadow the hedgehog fanfic #shadow fanfic #shadow the hedgehog #sonic fandom #sonic the hedgehog #sonic fanfiction #mikeyreqs

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m1ckeyb3rry · 9 months ago

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I was wondering if you could make a part 2 to "the instrument"? I got invested reading it was so sad that it ended :(

I don't rlly know what I'm looking for but I loved the plot of that fic and I wanted to see it progress further (´；д；)

Like, it js ended with him giving her flowers, I wanted to see their love bloom more yknowww ಥ_ಥ

(Also is it weird that I see y/n as her own person?)

Synopsis: You were right from the start — Michael Kaiser has always been a dog, albeit perhaps not in the way you first meant it. (part one here!)

BLLK Masterlist

Pairing: Kaiser x Reader

Chapter Word Count: 4.5k

Content Warnings: fake dating trope, mentioned/implied/referenced abuse (both child and animal), call me tabito karasu the way i assassinate kaiser’s character in this, relationship dynamics many would consider…interesting…

A/N: EEK i feel like kaiser is so hard for me to do romance with but i tried my best!! and LMAOO this y/n is definitely a very interesting one so i can see why you got that sense 😭 but i’m glad you liked the instrument and ty for requesting 🥹 i hope this is somewhat satisfactory??

Additional: check my pinned post to make sure i have requests open; after reading the rules, please feel free to make your own!

You are quite certain that your mother was involved in this exercise, considering she’s the only one you can think of with a spare key to your house. So, when your phone call to Michael is sent immediately to voicemail, you don’t hesitate in dialing her number, knowing she’ll pick up immediately, as she always does.

The phone rings only once, and then she’s answering. There are voices in the background that are faint and muffled, which means either she’s watching a new drama or your father is watching some sports game. Then you detect the faint sound of cheers, and you conclude it must be the latter.

“Hello, Y/N,” your mother says. “Did you need something?”

She is very obviously trying to maintain an air of mysteriousness, as if she has no idea why you might be calling her, but the fact that she is putting on such an act makes it all the more obvious that it is just a facade. You’ve known for many years that your talent onstage is not a genetic one, though it does not stop your parents from pretending that it’s something you inherited from them.

“The flowers,” you say. “You put them there, didn’t you?”

She coughs. You don’t know if she’s disguising a laugh or if she’s just taken aback to that extent. Either way, you give her a moment to compose herself, for it’ll be a mess if you don’t. Your mother is like that, after all. If you inundate her with questions, she’ll respond to exactly none of them, so patience is the only method you have if you wish to obtain any measure of success.

“It wasn’t my own doing,” she says finally. You sigh.

“Of course, someone told you to, and I’m sure we both know who,” you say. “What did he say?”

“He meant well,” she says. “Are you angry with him? He seemed to think you might be. Anyways, he just told me to give them to you. It’s his way of saying sorry, I think. Or perhaps of saying something else. I’m afraid I can’t understand him the way you do. It’s magical, really, how you all but read his mind…”

“No one can read his mind,” you scoff. “He’s a convoluted man, and his thoughts are his own.”

“And you despise him because of that?” she prods, in a way that indicates she already knows the answer and is only asking for her personal satisfaction.

“I love him all the more for it,” you say shortly. Somehow, it’s worse saying it to your mother than it was with him. More real, maybe. Unable to be taken back. You don’t want to take it back, of course, but nevertheless, even if you did, you no longer can. It’s out in the world, now, and the world has a strange humor; it takes things one says even carelessly, without thought, and it turns them into undeniable, inescapable truth.

“Well,” she says. “That is a predicament.”

“There’s no predicament,” you say.

“He believes there is,” she says. “Right before he left, he—”

“Left?” you repeat. The flowers on your counter are arcing towards the sun, their petals unfurling towards the light pouring from your window. It’s a behavior more typical of flowers other than roses, but these roses are blue and they are Michael’s, so it stands to reason that they behave peculiarly. “Where did he go?”

“I couldn’t tell you,” she says. “He didn’t mention where he was going, just that he had to leave for a bit. But he looked sad. I mean, it’s difficult to tell with him, given how stoic he is, so I don’t know. Don’t take me at my word and start a fight about it.”

This is all you’re going to get out of her. You’re sure of it; there’s a wavering to her voice that signals she’s out of her depth. It’ll be unproductive and all but cruel if you continue to drill her, so you grit your teeth, squeezing your eyes shut and counting to three in your mind. Frustration is a wasted emotion, especially when the target of your frustration is somewhere far away, gone with nothing but a pot of flowers as a farewell.

That’s what it really is. Not an apology or a confession, but a goodbye. The fact that he thought to do it does mean something, but that meaning doesn’t outweigh the intention. So you make meaningless small talk with your mother and then your father, who she passes the phone to, and as soon as you can, you hang up and call another person, one who might be your only chance at finding the wandering stray that is Michael Kaiser.

Michael doesn’t really have friends, claims he doesn’t need them, but if there is one man who he might deign to bestow that title upon, it is his Bastard München teammate, Alexis Ness. They have been playing together since they were young, and so, if anything, there is an empathy between the two, although Michael will never admit it.

You’ve only met Alexis Ness a few times, at the various events which Michael used to drag you to when your relationship was still in the public eye. He’s never been anything but polite, albeit reserved, and on your third meeting, he gave you his phone number, telling you to call him if you ever ran into trouble. He had left the with Michael unsaid, but the implication had been there. You had thanked him and never called him since.

He’s quick to respond, like he was expecting the call — for all you know, he really was, though you would never ask either way. However, he does not speak first, so there is an awkward pause as you both wait for the other to say something.

“Good morning, Mr. Ness,” you say once a minute has gone by and he still has said nothing. “This is Y/N L/N. You gave me your number once.”

“Ah, Kaiser’s girlfriend,” he says. They have this habit, those soccer players, of referring to each other solely by last name. Your theory is that it’s to create distance, to avoid becoming close to a person who can be stolen by another team at any moment. You can’t fathom any other explanation. It’s a little sad to you, but you try not to judge, because there’s as many or more judgements that can be passed about your own lifestyle and habits.

“Yes,” you say.

“Are you calling to ask me where he went?” he says.

“I am,” you say. There’s no point in games. You don’t know Alexis Ness well enough to play them, and he seems to appreciate candidness, so the both of you are blunt in your conversations.

“I’m not supposed to tell you,” he says. “He swore me to secrecy.”

“I see,” you say. It’s disappointing, but it doesn’t come as a surprise. Michael is more than a little paranoid, so of course he took these ridiculous measures to cover his tracks.

“Nothing against you,” he says. “In fact, you should take it as a compliment. It sounded like there’s some messes he needed to clean up before he could bear to face you.”

“He’s horrible at cleaning,” you say.

“I don’t mean literal cleaning,” he says. It’s patient but also mocking. You roll your eyes, a silent form of retribution that he’ll never know of.

“Neither do I,” you say. Alexis Ness exhales heavily. Perhaps you’ve given him a migraine. It’s a particular skill of yours, or so you’ve been told.

“Berlin,” he says.

“Berlin?” you say.

“That’s where he is. If he asks, I’m not the one who told you,” he says, and then he’s ending the call before you can even thank him.

Berlin’s a big city, so Ness’s advice isn’t as helpful as he might’ve thought it would be, but at least it’s a start. Besides, for all his idiosyncrasies, Michael has a few patterns he follows with religiosity, so you tell your agent you’re going on a trip and silence your phone before he can call you and sputter protests about the impromptu nature of the semi-vacation.

The volunteers at the dog shelter tell you that Michael’s been there for the majority of the day. They’ve left him alone because they don’t know what to say; it’s not everyday that a celebrity wanders into such an establishment without so much as a word, and he’s remained relatively harmless, so they’ve continued about their daily business, ignoring him as best as they could when it became obvious he had no interest in speaking to them.

When you enter the kennel room, you find him sitting in front of one with a large hound in it. It has a pointed muzzle, and its tail does not wag at your approach, but it does lift its head and blink at you a couple of times before going back to sleep.

The cement floor is cold, but still you sit beside Michael, hugging your knees to your chest in a mirror of his position, careful not to touch him, thinking that he is wild enough to flee if you do. The hound lets out a soft breath. You notice that there are pink lines cutting through the black of its fur, marring its wide torso, shiny as the skin does its best to heal.

“She was seized from her owner,” Michael says. “The neighbors called the police one night when things got too loud.”

He’s not looking at you, but it’s obvious you’re the one he meant that statement for, so you shift closer to him, placing one hand on his arm. He flinches the tiniest bit, but when you try to pull away, he reaches up and stops you, holding your hand there, though he still refuses to turn away from the dog.

“Apparently, the guy got drunk and beat her,” he says. “She belonged to his wife, but once his wife died, he became an alcoholic, and that poor dog was the only one there to see it. I’m sure she tried to keep loving him at first, though. Even when she was frightened. Dogs do their best to love you, because they can’t understand that no matter how hard they try, it doesn’t matter. If someone wants to hate them, then all of the love in the world won’t be enough to stop that.”

He’s talking about the dog, but that’s not what he really means. That’s just how he is: he speaks in circuitous riddles to avoid ever saying anything plainly. Flowers and dogs — both are just methods of avoiding what he really wants to tell you.

“We can take her home,” you say. “Give her a different name and a place where she can be happy. Even if something has been hurt before, that doesn’t mean it has to hurt forever.”

His eyes lower, and then he stands, yanking you to your feet. Steadying you when you stumble, he lets go of you abruptly, frowning and turning away from the dog, who is awoken by the suddenness of the movement, flattening her ears against her head and shrinking back.

“She’s frightened of men now,” he says. “Has been ever since she was rescued. Bites every male that comes near her. I can’t blame her. If I were her, I’d do the same. Apparently, that means she’s not really adoptable. Not by us and not by anyone.”

The dog whines plaintively. You offer her the back of your hand through the bars of the kennel. She sniffs it before licking it carefully, and then she thumps her tail against her bed in approval — only one time, though, and then she’s standing, pacing in unhappy circles around the small kennel, which can hardly fit an animal of her size.

“I want her,” you say. “I don’t care if she isn’t adoptable. I want her.”

“Of course you do,” he says. He would sound aggravated, but there is a curious delight dancing in his eyes, a childish sort of joy that so rarely sparkles in those blue irises, so he completely doesn’t. “Of course you want her. You can’t stay away from hurt things, can you? Who told you I was here?”

“No one,” you say. “I figured it out by myself.”

He purses his lips, following after you as you make your way to the front desk. Disapproval rolls off of him in waves, but also something else. Something shriveled and cowering which is fighting desperately to crawl to the surface.

The volunteers are surprised to hear which dog you insist on taking, and they try to convince you to look at any of the more appealing ones — the puppies, or the well-trained retrievers that already have waitlists of potential adopters. You’re an actress, however, so they’ll put you at the top and give you whichever one you want. You tell them you know which one you want already, and eventually they give up on arguing, only frowning as you sign the litany of documents they produce, clicking their tongues and telling you that she’ll be difficult.

You respond that it’s fine. You’re used to difficult things; in fact, you think that you prefer them. They shake their heads and then you are told that your dog — yours, miraculously she is yours — will be ready for you to get her whenever you want.

Michael’s business in Berlin is not yet completed, you can sense it, so you tell them that you will return later and then you chase after his disappearing back, catching him by the sleeve of his coat in a narrow alleyway which leads to a theater.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he says. He’s gazing at a poster with a woman on it; she’s beautiful, with elfin features and flowing hair the color of gold. She’s also someone you recognize. “Fuck Ness. I know he told you. I’m going to kill him when I get back.”

“Leave him alone,” you say. “He didn’t tell me anything.”

“Sure,” he says. “Whatever.”

“Do you know her?” you say, pointing at the woman.

“Do you?” he shoots back. He’s crabby now, snapping easily and readily, though you’ve not really done anything to provoke him.

“Yes,” you say. It’s not the answer he had predicted, which you can tell because he whirls to glare at you instead of the movie poster. “Why are you surprised? We’re in the same industry. I was almost in a movie with her a while back, though it fell through because of an issue with the writers. She’s nice enough, I guess. I went to her wedding a couple of years ago, but other than that, I wouldn’t say we’re particularly close.”

“You…went to her wedding?” he says, and then, inexplicably, his fingers are weaving in between yours. It feels like he is holding onto you for something more than affection, so you stand as still as you possibly can, only humming in agreement.

“Yes, I did. Actually, she married her childhood sweetheart, which took everyone by surprise. It was commonly thought that she’d marry one or another of her costars, you see. She’s always been good at creating chemistry…people always say that she can make even a rock seem desirable, that’s how she is,” you say wistfully, leaning your head on his shoulder. He doesn’t shove you away, enraptured by the story. “It’s amazing to watch. But isn’t it kind of sweet? That despite how excellent she is at feigning affection, how she could’ve had any man in the world, she chose the boy from her youth? I remember talking to him. He has nothing, no money or connections or investments. She really just married him because he loves her for who she is.”

“Is love really all she wanted?” he says.

“I suppose it’s all that a lot of people want,” you say. “Rumor has it that she's pregnant.”

He stiffens against you. “What?”

“Well, I think she’s a little old for it, but it’s common for women in my line of work to wait until the signs of age are beyond concealment before they have children, so it’s not a shock,” you say.

“Why?’ he says.

“It’s the industry’s standards—” you begin before he cuts you off.

“No,” he says. “No, why is she — why does she want — why is she pregnant?”

“Isn’t it common for people to start a family eventually?” you say. “By the way, you never answered my question. Do you know her?”

“She’s my mother,” he says. The words are angry, but his tone is forlorn, his hand in yours cold and small. “But I’m — I’m not her son.”

He looks so wretched that you cannot help embracing him, and when he reciprocates in earnest and without pretense, you know that you have done the right thing. His breaths are fast and shaky, though he is not crying, and as much as you wish you had not said it, you believe deep down that it is important that you did.

Platitudes are meaningless. If you say it’s okay or something along those lines, you will be a liar, because the truth is that it’s not okay. You are not the one who can decide if it’s okay or not. You can only remain as you have been, motionless and gentle, stroking his back in the way one settles a restless infant, allowing his fingers to dig into your sides and his looming weight to collapse into you — for his sharpness is not borne of malice but helplessness, however loath to admit it he might be.

“Why?” he whispers. There’s a million questions he could be asking, and none of them are ones you can ever answer for him, but that will not stop him. “Why couldn’t it be me? Why couldn’t she be happy with me? I would have loved her. I would have been her family.”

“A lot of people don’t deserve children,” you muse. “Or love, or many other such happinesses. And still more people cannot understand the importance of these things when they are within their grasp. Your mother must’ve been very young when she had you. It’s easy to be blinded by stardom and glamor and fairytales at that age. It’s easier still to abandon everything for just a taste of the spotlight. There’s a school of thought that fame is impossible to attain without that necessary sacrifice.”

“What about you?” he says.

“I’m not an exception,” you say ruefully. “Any normal person would have hung up on you when you first called, Michael. I’m only lucky in that it was you and not anyone else on the other end of the line. It’s only because I know you that I realized there are more important things in this world than celebrity and popularity. Once I would’ve spurned the thought of obscurity, but now, if I can have you, then I wouldn’t even mind it so much. It’s the same conclusion your mother must have reached.”

“It’s too late,” he says. “She reached it too late.”

“Yes,” you say. “Yes, she did reach it too late, but it’s easier to give this kind of life up once you’ve known it than to never have it at all. That’s the only reason why. She was greedy, and you bore the consequences.”

“It’s not fair,” he says. You’ve never heard him like this. Normally, he’d laugh at the mere thought of such vulnerability, but the gray of the city has clearly twisted him into a wounded and fragile version of himself, prone to shattering, made of a glass that is already jagged at the edges and can hardly keep together because of it. “It’s not fair, it’s not — I hate her, and I hate him, and I hate her stupid new family, and I —I—”

He silences himself, obviously unsure of what to say, and then he holds your face in his hands, giving you a pleading stare. Help me, he seems to beg. Tell me what to do. He is lost, and somehow you have become a map of sorts, or a compass, one which points in a direction he has no choice but to follow.

“Why did you come here?” you say. “When you knew it would hurt you, why did you come?”

“I wanted to remind myself,” he says. “For a second, you even convinced me that I was worthy of being — you know. So I had to come back. I had to see with my own eyes the kind of person I really am. If my mother and my father and my entire damn city hate me, then why should you be any different?”

He’s scared that he will hurt you, and that you will hurt him, and that he will be alone again, as he has been for much of his life. For all his brashness, his bravado, his smugness and his smooth way of speaking in public, he’s never really been anything more than a little boy who’s frightened, who presses against the back wall of his enclosure like that beaten hound did.

“You know that I am different,” you say. “I am not your mother, nor your father. I will leave everything behind but you. In fact, I’ll leave it for you. Tell me to and I will.”

“What if I tell you to quit acting?” he says.

“Then I will retire at once,” you say. “I already have more money than I know what to do with.”

“And if I tell you to move across the world?” he tries, resting his forehead against yours. “Would you do that, despite your entire life being here?”

“Yes,” you say. “I am quick at making friends and learning new things, so I will adapt to it.”

“What about if I tell you to marry me?” he says. His lips are so close to yours that he is speaking against your mouth, but he doesn’t try to kiss you yet.

“You wouldn’t ask?” you say.

“I don’t ask for things,” he says.

“Naturally, I’d marry you,” you say. “There isn’t anyone else I’d ever want, anyways. We’d have the most beautiful wedding in the world, and we’d only invite the people we like.”

“That’s a short list,” he says. His heartbeat is calming down; it’s a temporary solution, but if it manages to distract him, then you’ll indulge the flight of fancy.

“My parents,” you say.

“Ness,” he says.

“I always knew you liked him,” you say.

“Only because I have to,” he says.

“Anyone else?” you say.

“No,” he says. “That’s it. We can even forget about all of those people, actually. I just want it to be the two of us. Nobody else matters but — but you.”

He’s stuttering as he comes to his senses. These declarations aren’t typical of him, as foreign as French on his tongue, but he’s making them anyways. He’s been fighting the compulsion for a while, you can tell, but it’s hard for him to keep fighting on all fronts of his life. Eventually, one side will give. You are glad that it is your side, that you are the one he has given to, no matter how reluctantly he has done it.

“Is there anything else you’d like?” you say. “All of these are easy for me to do. Ask for something difficult, so that I may prove to you that I am telling the truth, that I mean what I say.”

“It’s not a request, but a condition,” he says.

“You only need to name it,” you say.

“If I hurt you, then you have to run,” he says. “Run so far away that I can never reach you. Even though it’ll hurt me, I want you to run. Even though I’ll beg for you to stay, please leave.”

That’s it, then. The most difficult thing he can imagine a person doing: leaving someone they love. Certainly he is unable to do it. It doesn’t matter if he’s suffering. He’ll suffer longer just to stay by your side, just as he suffered for all of those many years as a child.

It’s how you know he loves you more than he’ll ever let on. He holds you in such esteem that he’ll let you leave him if you have to, though it’ll indubitably destroy him, destroy him more than staying could ever destroy you. Yet still he is giving you that permission, commanding it, even, because he’d rather destroy himself than let even the slightest harm befall your being.

You can only draw that conclusion because you know that he will never, can never, hurt you. He isn’t saying this as a warning, because it isn’t an inclination that he has. No, it’s a dark and ugly voice in the back of his mind — does it sound like his father’s? You feel that it must — insisting that he will do it, he will. He’ll hurt you. He’s the reason that his mother left and his father became something sick, and he’ll be the reason that you are broken and ruined and torn apart. He’ll do it. He’ll be the one to do it, it’s inevitable, he’ll scratch you with his thorns and gnaw at your remains with his fangs and maybe he’ll even cry during the act but he’ll still do it.

“Alright,” you say, though you want to protest that he is incapable, because it’s clear that he is testing you. Every argument which might fall from your lips, he has heard before, and if you dare utter them one more time, it’ll be the proof that you are lying. The way his thoughts work, the paths that they follow, they are winding and narrow, but perhaps your mother is right — perhaps you are coming to understand them.

“Do you think that I can?” he says.

“No,” you say. “The fact that you worry about it tells me that you won’t. You are better than that, Michael.”

“You really believe that?” he says. “With everything you are, you believe it?”

“I do,” you say.

You almost can’t believe it, but he laughs. Well, calling it a laugh is generous, it’s really more of an exhale, yet one which is unquestionably seeping with amusement, and you’re about to ask him what he finds so funny when he was so close to breaking down mere moments earlier, but he stops you before you can.

“I do,” he says. It’s an odd thing to repeat, but a second later your mind registers why he’s done it, and then the corners of your lips are curving up.

In the streets of Berlin, the two of you are alone; his mother’s poster is your only witness, but if she takes some offense, she remains smiling and silent, her gaze far away as her son — who isn’t her son, he isn’t hers at all, he’s yours and only yours — finally closes the minuscule gap between you both and kisses you fully.

#kaiser x reader #kaiser x y/n #kaiser x you #michael kaiser #bllk x reader #bllk #blue lock #reader insert #fake dating #m1ckeyb3rry requests #m1ckeyb3rry writes

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that-student-that-has-homework · 11 months ago

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🍉PORTGAS D. ACE🍉

Louder than Words Part 2

Part 2 to this Summary: More fluff with a touch of therapy for Ace Word Count Stats: Current: 3200 words Estimated Final: ~5000 words +/- 500 words To Sponsor: 1800 words

That Went a Little Too Well

Summary: You’re being bullied by the local mean girls for thinking Fire Fist was better looking than Cavendish. He’s flattered. Oh yeah, turns out he was actually on the island. Word Count Stats: Current: ~ 300 Estimated Final: ~ 2500 - 4500 words +/- 500 words To Sponsor: 2200 - 3700 words

🍉TRAFALGAR LAW 🍉

Therapeutic

Oneshot + Could be Platonic Summary: The Strawhats rescue a spa worker from slave traffickers. She gives the crew and their guest spa treatments. Needless to say the ever so tense, ever so stressed Captain of the Heart Pirates needs a decent amount of work. Word Count Stats: Current: ~ 740 Estimated Final: ~ 2500 - 4500 words +/- 500 words To Sponsor: 1760 - 3260 words

🍉RORONOA ZORO🍉

Admiration

Summary: You let slip how you admired Zoro’s commitment to his goals. Now he’s teaching you how to commit to yours. Notes: Fluffy. 1-2 chapters. Unsure if platonic or romantic. Word Count Stats: Current: ~ 260 Estimated Final: ~ 2500 - 4500 words +/- 500 words To Sponsor: 2240 - 3740 words

Haikyuu

I’ll Marry Ya/Marriage Pact Part 2 (Miya Osamu X Reader)

Part 2 to this Word Count Stats: Current: ~ 1560 Estimated Final: ~ 2500 - 4500 words +/- 500 words To Sponsor: 940 - 2440 words

___________________________________________

🍉Request information:🍉

Please check with me PRIOR to making a request to see if it's something I write.

___________________________________________

I will abide by the quantity you donate for requests. Example: you donate 5$. I write around 5000 words - could be a little more, could be a little less.

You DON'T have to pay any extra if I go over the word count. Consider that a gift from me!

Asks made prior to May 26 2024 are exempt from this

Asks with donations to a vetted fundraiser take priority following May 26 2024

Things I am not comfortable writing for / not experienced writing:

NSFW / smut

poly relationships

m/m or f/f romantic ships

yandere / stalker

underage

incest

male reader inserts

Things I generally write for:

fem reader inserts

fluffy scenarios

emotional vulnerability

humor

platonic relationships in general

Fandoms:

JJK

AoT

Haikyuu

One Piece

Ace of the Diamond

Genshin Impact

Fire Emblem Three Houses

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rexscanonwife · 19 days ago

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✨️ COMMISSIONS ✨️

Color + simple shading are 45 USD for 2 characters, waist-up

Monochrome are 35 USD for 2 characters, waist-up

Extras include additional characters (3 are the limit) for 5 dollars, and speedpaint/timelapse also for 5 dollars! Complex designs may also be charged extra

I accept both PayPal and cashapp

I also draw/offer nsft art, ask if interested but you MUST be over 18 and have your age listed in your bio as proof!

Turnaround time is typically 1 week for a sketch and another week for the finished product, please be patient if it takes longer as I work a full-time job irl and occasionally need a break for personal art to avoid burnout!

RULES:

No proship/comship/darkship your blog will need to pass a vibe check

No characters who've committed heinous crimes (sa/rape, child abuse, genocide, etc.)

No characters from media that openly fund transphobic campaigns (Harry Potter im talking about that)

Please be respectful when requesting your comm and/or with adjustments that may need to be made. I do my best to make sure I follow the commissioner's vision but sometimes it may take a few tries!

And that's all!! You can keep track of commissions and progress here (link also included in pinned post) thanks so much to everyone who's supported me before and any who will commission in the future! 💖

#jane journals #artfarts

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lsd-astronaut · 12 days ago

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Hello! I would like to ask for some headcanons about the four hobbits as parents! It can be any au (for example you can write about Frodo's interaction with Sam's children in "stays in the Shire " au)

I dreamt of Merry last night sooo I'm in a hobbit mood. Would love to write this for you hehehe

Like and reblog! Requests are open! Refer to my pinned post for rules

The hobbits as parents (Headcanons)

Frodo

I feel like he'd prefer to have just one kid as that is what he was used to when he was little. Plus, he is a hobbit that appreciates quiet, so I don't think a little army of his clones would be the best idea, especially after the Quest.

The kind of parent that will absolutely play music or straight up read to your pregnant belly because he says that his child should know who's their dad as soon as they open their eyes to the world.

Actually fainted when you gave birth but in his defence, he was extremely nervous about the whole ordeal and you can't really decide when an episode will hit you. But, rest assured, it was just one of these momentary things (like these rollercoaster videos) and he immediately went back to your side.

Frodo's child turns out to be even more of a menace than him when he was a fauntling, which is actually an achievement. Why, one time, Frodo appeared drenched while holding your kid, who looked extremely satisfied. Apparently, they had decided to run off, and Frodo, thinking they were going straight for the river, had rushed for them. The child had changed courses at the last moment, but Frodo hadn't been fast enough, and oh well.

Even if they give him almost daily heart attacks, Frodo absolutely adores his kid, and they adore him. He is the one to teach them how to read and write, and is also extremely proud when they defend themselves against rude hobbits. Yes, they are Frodo Baggins' kid. So what?

Sam

The best father, the best husband, the best everything.

Your first pregnancy went really smooth, but Sam was still a nervous wreck, constantly asking you whether you needed anything, and beating himself up if you felt any kind of discomfort or pain. Stupid Sam, he should be making it all easier for you, not more difficult. You chewed him up pretty thoroughly one day, but he maintains he absolutely needed that reality check.

Gets super serious the first weeks after your child is born. No "oh, but you owe me another baby" or "make me dinner, I'm tired and you only stay in bed all day." He hates that kind of people with all his heart. He changes diapers, keeps a feeding schedule, and even calms the baby down every time they get fussy so you can get the rest you deserve.

Had a secret competition he didn't really tell you about over whether the baby would say "dada" or "mama" first. His argument was that the "d" sound is easier to pronounce that "m". Was a bit disappointed when they said "mama", but your grin made the defeat feel way less sore. He'll get what he wants with the next kid, he's sure.

Teaches his kid to cook, garden, and many other skills. Even if they don't like it, he just wants to be sure they can fend for themselves in the real world when they leave the nest (he secretly hopes this never happens).

Merry

Okay, I'm gonna be completely honest. This guy does not strike me as someone who was looking to have kids; so when he learned that you were pregnant, he bluescreened for an entire minute and then had a little anxiety attack because he's not ready to be a father???

He decides to seek help from Sam who looks at him like he has grown two heads and basically sends him back to you with a kick on his rear and an apology in his mouth.

Finally, you both have a conversation, and this very silly hobbit tells you about his insecurities. He's too irresponsible and he doesn't see himself to be fit to be a role model for everyone, I mean he couldn't protect his own cousin! You reassure him that he is the only one that could do this, and that he is not alone so should he make a mistake he has you to rely on, and your child is not going to hate him.

From then on, he is hands on during your pregnancy. Any cravings you may have, no matter how unconventional or straight up not suit for consumption by anyone that isn't pregnant, will have Merry running around the Shire at any hour of the day and night. And if he has to wake up Sam at 3am on a weekday, well, you need it, and what are friends for?

Once your child is born, Merry cannot be convinced to stop holding them. He felt a connection as soon as he set eyes on them, like a little animal does when it imprints on the first thing they see, and Merry did not think his heart could hold more love. Oh, how wrong he was. He only allows you to hold them for feedings and honestly whenever you ask him, but if anyone else asks, Merry gives them a nasty glare and turns around very dramatically.

Talks to his child like they're a tiny adult and always seeks their opinion even if the child is more interested in eating their own shoes.

Also, if the kid has trouble talking in the first stages, he actually knows what they're saying even if to everyone else (but you) they are just babbling.

Pippin

Okay, before the Quest, he wanted a big family like the one he was born in, but afterwards he is very unsure about it. I feel like his sense of inadequacy and self-esteem issues got accentuated because of the events during the war. He was very happy when he learned you were pregnant but there was also a twinge of terror deep inside him.

Strangely quiet during the pregnancy, and although he reassures you that it is so he doesn't bother you in such a delicate condition, you know him better. At night, he will lay his cheek on your belly and just stay there, which has granted him some well aimed kicks from your very energetic child, but he never changes positions.

When your child is born, the midwife allows him to hold them after you've had your turn. He initially refuses with a sheepish smile and an excuse on "how he doesn't want to hurt the baby". You tell him to cut the bullshit and come hold them, which he does, and to your surprise, it's the most careful you've ever seen Pippin be. He needs to be corrected by the midwife on his arms' position and he profusely apologises but you reassure him he's doing great. He may or may not be crying as the baby grabs his finger with all their strength.

Now, the child is clearly Pippin's for they are extremely restless, and barely able to sleep through the night. Which has resulted you in losing sleep as well. One time, you shoot up as you hear the baby's piercing cries. As you go to get up, Pippin puts a hand on your shoulder and tells you to go back to sleep while he goes to calm them down. An hour later, you wake up again to find that Pippin has not come back so you go to check on him, and find him softly singing while gently rocking the crib, and your child fast asleep! It becomes the go-to method every time they cry, but it only works with Pippin, so hard time for Frodo or Merry when they are on babysitting duty.

Very present in your children's lives. He is their best friend and they know they can go to their "papa" for everything, good or bad. Pippin did get his wished for family in the end.

I hope it wasn't too obvious that I wrote Merry's and Pippin's first, and Frodo's and Sam's afterwards lmao also I went a bit crazy and then I remembered the request said "as parents" so that's why the pregnancy thing occupies so much in each one lol

#lord of the rings #lotr #lotr fanfic #lotr headcanons #lotr x reader #lord of the rings fanfic #lord of the rings headcanons #lord of the rings x reader #frodo baggins #frodo baggins x reader #sam gamgee #sam gamgee x reader #merry brandybuck #merry brandybuck x reader #pippin took #pippin took x reader #ali answers

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gatheredfates · 11 months ago

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POSES. It happened! ✨

I made a smaller post this morning, but I am super pleased to announce that Tumblr's moderation has approved SEAFLOOR as a Community! We're live, baeby!

If you don't know what a Community is, you can check out Tumblr's post about it here.

If you are interested in joining, I will copy/paste the information contained on the Community's pinned post in the read more below, as you won't see it otherwise (outside of joining). I'd like to kindly request that if you are already a member of the Community to not like this post (it just saves me doubling up) but please reblog it to spread the word!

Welcome to SEAFLOOR! This a Community run by myself, Sea (@gatheredfates), as an offshoot of the identically named Discord server aimed to contain both my personal projects and promote member-created content. If you would still like to keep up to date with my projects, interact with members of my community, and generally enjoy xiv content without the pressure of a Discord, this is the place!

This server has mandatory tags that MUST be used for spoilers. A general rule of thumb is the most recent patch/live letter is considered spoiler content and must be marked accordingly; as well as major spoilers for the most recent expansion. If it doubt, it always pays to tag. Please mind the following:

#dawntrail spoilers

#7.0. spoilers (will likely come into effect for 7.1 to differentiate from general Dawntrail spoilers, but you can tag for both!)

#liveletter spoilers

Much like my Discord, there are some house rules I want to put in place first for first-time users. Please familiarise yourself with the below. This post is pinned; you can't claim you haven't seen it. A lot of these are near-identical to the server rules, but I'll be no-less forceful in implementation if they are not adhered to.

If I'm being entirely honest, moderation past Community maintenance is something I do not want to engage with, so I will be intervening only when it is entirely necessary and will be harsh in my implementation. Therefore, if you don't think you can conduct yourself in a healthy, adult manner, do not join. Some of these rules may seem 'harsh' but are the product of me making clear boundaries in what I will expect, tolerate and foster. I will not hesitate to curate where I feel it is necessary.

I believe in the age-old phrase "Be excellent to each other," and that underpins every rule featured below. If in doubt, refer back to this mantra.

This Community is strictly 21+ only. This is to keep in line with my personal boundaries regarding minors. It's nothing personal, I just don't have time to moderate for a younger audience.

Common-sense rules apply. Do not break Tumblr's ToS, spoiler/content warm where appropriate and sensible, and don't be rude/harass people in the comments. Just because a rule isn't explicitly stated doesn't mean you have full reign to do the thing.

Intolerance (namely racism, homophobia, transphobia, etc.) will not be tolerated. If you don't like it, the back button is free.

Due to this being a predominately XIV focused Community, dark themes will present due to subject manner explored in the game. I will not enforce mandatory tags/censors outside of patch/expansion spoilers; I just ask that people use their common sense and consider peoples' safety and mental wellbeing when posting work(s). If you do not warn appropriately or mock/ignore requests for things to be censored/warned, you will be removed.

As Communities are in their infancy, rules may be amended/adjusted to better fit this space's purpose as time goes on. While I will attempt to make these changes obvious, please check back on occasion just in case. "I didn't know," is not a valid excuse.

HOKAY, now that the serious of the rules are out of the way, you might be wondering to yourself, "Sea, what can be posted?" I'm glad you asked! ✨ First and foremost, as I do not encourage secular spaces, please make sure all content has originated from a public tumblr blog. I want to encourage people to reach out, interact and follow other people, not just stick to this space! Beyond that, I accept:

Screenshots (gpose), writing, art, think pieces and other xiv content created by members. You can tag these with #gpose, #writing, #art, etc.

Resource gathering similar to what is featured in the Discord server including resources, prompts, commissions, etc. You can tag these with #resources, #prompts, #WoLQoTD, #commissions, #other, etc. These do not have to be created by members in the community.

Event, character profiles, looking for content/rp/free companies and more! You can tag these with #events, #character profile, #lfc, #lfr, #free company, etc. These do not have to be created by members in the community.

Links to lodestone posts/dev commentary and other official posts provided they are tagged correctly. You can tag these with #lodestone.

Anything you've created in response to my projects! You can tag these as #sea's character questions OR whatever the event is at the time (for example, Down to Dawntrail posts can be tagged as #(count)down to dawntrail)! I will try to reblog anything that I am tagged in if the owner doesn't reblog it here.

Anything xiv related that isn't covered here but you think is in line with the spirit of this community and what I'm trying to foster. Please DM me if you're unsure.

#｡･ﾟﾟ･ — sea speaks

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 10 days ago

Text

On Good Behaviour 7

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, threats, age gap, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: after release, you try to get on the right track but your new boss isn’t much help. (ex-con reader)

Characters: Loki

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

"May I get the bill?" Laufeyson inquires as he checks his watch.

You put a finger in the air, "mine's separate, thanks."

"Pardon you," your boss dismisses you with a flick of his fingers. "One bill is acceptable."

Braxton nods and spins to go about his task. You stiffen in your chair. Fulla sighs. Frigga tuts.

"How kind of you, darling," his mother intones. "Treating all of us to a pleasant lunch."

"It is a wonder that you've not snared yourself a woman. There are those who prefer money over personality," Fulla trills. Laufeyson growls.

"Yes, thank you, Mr. Laufeyson," you fold your hands in your lap. "And thank you two for having me. I hate to impose."

"Hm, oh, she is a stickler for rules," Laufeyson chirps dryly. "Not a toe out of line."

You let the comment roll off of you. You are as anxious as him to be over with this. You sense the squint in your direction from Frigga as Fulla eyes up her nephew.

The server returns. He hands the bill to Laufeyson who returns his credit card. You wait for it to process and try not to wither away in the tension.

Laufeyson is the first to stand. You follow suit. The older women make no move to rise.

"We'll finish our drinks," Frigga smiles. "And I will see you at your father's event."

He takes a deep breath and nods. He bends to kiss her cheek, "yes, mother."

"Buh bye, Loki," Fulla wiggles her fingers.

He sighs. He comes around and kisses her too.

"Oh, I knew you loved Foo Foo still," she giggles.

He stands with a roll of his eyes and gestures past his aunt, "we've work to do."

"Yes, so important. Ta ta," Fulla calls after him.

"Nice meeting you," you say then pivot to follow your simmering boss.

Great. They've got him pissier than usual. You're used to the prickly demeanour. Prison is full of assholes. He's another breed. He tries to hide it behind his stiff upper lip and tailored suits.

You go outside and approach the car. He unlocks the doors. You wait for him to get in before you do. He starts the engine as his silence persists.

"You're not very gracious," he says at last as he reverses out of the spot.

You frown, "I appreciate the lunch. I can reimburse--"

"That isn't my meaning. Water?"

"Water... I..." you swallow. "It's part of my probation."

He snorts. "Ah, yes. No, that makes sense."

The taunt in his voice makes you wince. You knew this was some trap from the moment he told you to make the reservation. It's not surprising. It's no different than the woman who sold you the skirt Fulla loved so much. People judge you at a glance. It almost makes you want to just go back to prison. People look at you like you belong there.

He drives on and your eyes narrow at the road. You twist in your seat as he goes straight where he should turn. You scalp bristles like it would when Tonya would hang outside your cell a bit too long. You cross a leg over the other and grip the door.

As the buildings grow familiar, the pavement cracks, and the brick grimier, the realisation sinks deep into your chest. This is your neighbourhood. Well out of the way of the office and surely far from his own abode.

He pulls in at your building and you check the time. Would he really be so thoughtful as to drive you home? You look at him. He smirks.

"I am curious to see what kind of hole a rat like you crawls back to every day," his eyes meet yours with a glimmer.

This is your punishment. Not for anything you did. For his own embarrassment. For what he meant to do and was kept from following through on.

"Well, aren't you excited to be home?" He slithers.

"What are you doing?"

"Since when--" He pokes your shoulder meanly, "do you question me? Let us remember the order of things. I am still your boss."

"Yes, Mr. Laufeyson," you latch onto your purse and undo your seat belt.

You open the door and get out. You look up at the apartment building with the dingy windows and chipped brick facade. You brace yourself as you start forward. Laufeyson's steps echo your own.

You dig out your keys and unlock the grated front door. It's heavy; a deterrent for non-residents. You get to the inner door and twist the key again. As you start up the stairs, he hums.

"Hm, that skirt is not too gauche on you," he muses and you nearly trip over the top step as he brushes your ass with his hand. He snickers at your stumble. "It would look better off."

You blink and keep going. Your body goes rigid as you get closer to your apartment door. You stop to unlock that too and enter. He presses against you as he trails you in. You quickly move away from him. He clucks as you hang your purse and step out of your shoes.

"Mm, shoes off in a place like this," he remarks.

You look around. The kitchen is a part of the front room. There's only the bathroom aside from that. It's what you can afford. He tilts his head mockingly.

"Well, I do see that you certainly are in desperate need of employment..." he removes his jacket and hangs it over your purse. "But you can show me how much you really want this job."

You stare at him. His lips slant and he closes in. He looks you up and down.

"I've spent my patience, so let us finish what we started."

His intent pours over you like ice water. Bumps raise on your skin and you shudder. You clench your jaw and swallow it down. You know how to survive. That's all you're doing.

You grab his tie, so roughly he flinches. His hands go to yours, easing your touch.

“Do try to repress your darker tendencies. This isn’t a street brawl.”

You stare at his throat as he drops his hands. You gently loosen the knot of his lie and unloop it from around his neck. You feel the silk then fold it neatly and set it aside. You can’t speak. You have nothing to say. You’ve always been the to do what needs to be done.

You turn back to him. He grabs your upper arms and you inhale in surprises. He urges you deeper into the apartment. He stops you in the centre of the floor. Once more, he lets you go.

You feel him watching you as you unbutton his shirts. His chest rises with a triumphant breath. You push the fabric back on his shoulders, his undershirts taut across his torso. You expected... less. He looks skinnier.

You tug his shirt tails free and strip away his button-up. You take your time in folding that too. He wants it proper, so you can be diligent.

Next the undershirt. He lifts his arms, gaze boring down on you like a laser. Put it with his other shirt. Then his belt. You pause, hands on the buckle, and steel yourself.

He chuckles, “let us not pretend you are the sacred virgin--”

You grip it tight and shove your thumb under the leather. You push free the end and unlash it, jerking him as you do. You flick open his fly and he hums.

You want to choke him with his damn belt. He’s enjoying this too much. That’s the point, isn’t it? Keep him happy and he won’t ruin your life.

You shove his pants down and he catches your hands. He brings them up as the fabric rumbles just along the top of his thighs. He tuts.

“Darling, I know you must eager, especially after all those years behind bars--”

“I’m not doing it without a condom,” you insist.

He snickers and pokes his tongue into his cheek. He releases you and steps around you. You stare at the wall as he turns and struts to the fold out couch. He tests it with his knee.

“In my jacket is my wallet... I do hope you can resist taking anything else,” he grabs the top of his pants as he pulls his foot back to the floor.

You spin and go to the door. You search his jacket. You find his leather wallet and unfold it. There are four condoms inside in a short chain. The intentionality of that makes your blood boil.

You turn back to your grim apartment. The peeling walls, the stained carpet, the emptiness of such a small space. You are at the bottom and he can see it so clearly.

As you near the bed, he sprawls across it on his back, naked. You try not to notice his dick and how it lays rigid up his stomach. You are going to have to. There’s no avoiding it.

You almost wish he’d done it at the office. Anywhere but your home. It’s not much but it’s what you have. It’s the seed of what you’re trying to grow.

You get up on the bed and walk on your knees toward him, between his legs. He has his arms bent behind his head as he watches you. You peel open the condom and take him in hand. You roll the rubber down his length. He groans and twitches.

“Darling, I said have some kindness. You needn’t rush,” he purrs, “Slow.”

You meet his green eyes and wince. That gleam in them. He is a cruel man. Maybe he never did the things you have, but he is worse. You never enjoyed what you did. You only did it because you really believed it was your only choice.

Just like this.

You grip him and pull up your skirt with your other hand. You climb over him and direct him between your legs. You press his tip again your cunt, rubbing it up and down, trying to cozen yourself into this. You tilt your hips slightly as you do.

You aim him along your entrance and hold your breath. You close your eyes and lower your head. You lower yourself, the blunt pressure forcing a whine from your throat. You put your hand flat to his stomach as you sink down.

You grunt and bite down as your walls resist him. You lift yourself and try again. You rock on him, coaxing through the tension. Finally, you take all of him and shiver out a breath. He moans and spreads his hands across your thighs.

A glance at his face has you horrified. His eyes are alight as he watches the intersect of your bodies. You rock slowly and slip your hand off his stomach.

“Mmmmm,” he purrs and runs his hands over your skirt.

He picks open the button at the bottom of your blouse; and the next; and the next; every one until it falls open. He grabs your bra and tugs it down until your tits spill over the top. He fondles you as you focus on moving your hips.

You grind against him, the friction easing the singe in your walls. Not enough to get you off, only enough to get you through. Your breath shallows and so does his. He cups your tits and runs his thumbs around your nipples. He groans as your motion builds.

His hands crawl back down your stomach. He frames your hips and pulls you down to your limit. You whimper as he holds you there. He bites his lip.

“You are much more delightful than anticipated,” he snarls and drags his hands down to clutch your skirt in his fists. “Go on.”

You lean forward and press your palms to his chest. Your pace quickens with ever tilt of your hip. He squeezes the fabric of your skirt, twisting it until it’s tight around your stomach. He keeps it wrapped around one fist as his other hand kneads your ass.

He urges you on, rocking his hips from below. His face is flushed, his arms and chests strained, his throat constricted as he chokes on his moans. A ripple rolls through him.

“Faster,” he hisses. You oblige. “Mm, darling, yes—oh—oh--” He sputters as his eyes roll back. “That’s-- like that--” You buck your hips, faster and faster. Finish already. “Dar-dar-darling...” he growls and snaps his mouth shut.

His jaw clenches and he spasms. The way he quakes and tense, then whimpers, assures you that it’s done. He got what he wants and you gave it to him. He must feel like such a big man. He has to if you feel this small.

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #series #on good behaviour #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #au #avengers #thor #mcu #marvel

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