Kar’taylir
kar’taylir
din djarin x female!reader
kar’taylir [kar-tie-leer]
to know, to hold in the heart.
summary: the four times Din Djarin almost says it, and the one time he does. alternatively, the four times you almost say it, and the one time you do.
a/n: *gif is not mine, it’s from Pinterest* just imagine that trend on tiktok where people scream and cry in their shower to the bridge of enchanted by taylor swift, except it’s Din doing it. also, did I include a Princess Bride reference? yes, cause I’m trash, but I thought it fit (sidenote this may just be my most favourite thing I’ve ever fucking written??)
warnings: a FUCK ton of angst, major one-sided pining (is it though?), jealousy, broody Din, reader is fucking oblivious, Cobb Vanth being a flirty little shit, eventually a lotta fluff
word count: 6.1K (it's a long one, guys, but I promise its worth it)
🪐
i.
“Stop. Moving.” You spit through gritted teeth as you try to wipe at the bloody mess before you.
Mando flinches beneath the wet rag. “Just-“ he groans as you swipe rather harshly at the wound that traces his entire bicep. “Just use the bacta spray, dank farrik!”
“It’s called cleaning the wound first. Maker, Mando, how you made it this long is kriffing beyond me.” You squeeze out the bloody rag into the bucket placed at your feet before draping it on the side.
The vibroblade that had caused the wound had made a perfect gash—deep, bloody, and very infected.
Usually, you had a weak stomach and weren’t able to tend to wounds, especially of this magnitude. But the more injuries your Mandalorian had acquired, the more you were put in a position to take care of him. And so, here were the two of you, hunched over each other in concentration.
You pull out said bacta spray from the medical kit along with a pair of scissors. Placing your hand along the rip in his shirt, you run your fingers gently around the fraying ends and look at your friend. “I’m going to have to cut the rest of the fabric around the wound so that way the bacta can reach the surrounding areas—“
“No, I—that’s enough—“
“Mando…” you warn lowly, attracting his attention to you. “It’s okay. It’s just me.”
He lets go of a shaky breath and allows himself to lean back against the metal wall. You take that as your go ahead and begin to cut the shirt. You know about his Creed, how strictly he follows it and what he allows himself to feel comfortable with. You respect him greatly, and so you make sure to only cut away the parts of the fabric that is needed.
Splaying your hand on the curve of his armor-ridden shoulder (you had somehow managed to convince him to remove it in order for you actually heal him properly) you take the bacta and spray along the jagged edges of the now clean wound. It’s a nasty cut, but far more manageable when it’s not covered in blood and scabs.
He flinched again at the cool contact but quickly settled into you. “You need to even out your breathing. You're gonna make yourself light-headed.” You say nonchalantly, making sure you are focused on getting bacta to every exposed area possible.
He doesn’t respond, but you do hear him pause, then inhale and exhale deeply through his modulator. You’re grateful for the way it calms you down—hands cease shaking, allowing you to start wrapping his arm in bandages. “You gotta keep this on. You can take it off in a couple days, but until then…” you tuck the open end into itself and stand up wiping at your knees and the dirt that accumulated on them from the ship's floor. “Until then don’t do anything to aggravate it.”
He huffs, but you can tell he tries to hide it as a cough when you shoot him a sour look. “I’m serious, Mando. I see that thing come off before it’s supposed to and you’re a dead man. You hear me? I’ll beat your ass so hard even the New Republic officers won’t be able to find you.”
He groans as he sits up slowly. “They already can’t find me.”
His quip elicits a harsh look from you. He raises his non-injured arm up in defense. “Alright, I get it. I won’t take it off.”
You keep the glare on him until you’re sure he got the message, then slowly allow the hint of a smile to breakthrough.
Then, you hear a coo and feel two tiny hands grab at your ankle. You look down with an even bigger smile and pick up the baby. “Hi, little guy!” You sit him in the curve of your inner elbow and bounce around on your heels, waiting for him to burst into a fit of giggles. Although it doesn’t take much for your tiny green child to laugh, he is almost always overjoyed when you bounce him around or spin with him in the air.
“You wanna see your dad?” His mouth falls open in a silent laugh when you reposition him against your chest. “Yeah, he’s alright. A little stupid, but he’s okay.”
You look up to Mando mid-laugh only to see that he’s already looking at you and the kid.
Typically, it’s unnerving when he stares. After all, intimidation is his strong suit. When he wants to be scary, he is, and with a type of ease only he possesses, he parts crowds like the Geyser Sea. But right now, he isn’t like that. It’s…different, somehow.
Instead of the sharp lines of his visor being pointed down, they’re slightly titled upward—an air of softness to the minuscule movements he makes. A strange, yet familiar feeling bubbles in your stomach, but you do what you know best and push it down. You clear your throat before sitting down beside your friend and place the baby in the middle of you two.
“Tell me again why you waited almost two days to treat that?”
He shrugs, head lolling to the side as the kid plays with his gloved fingers. “You’re better at patching me up, I guess.”
You feel your face quirk up. “Well, you’re not wrong. I am an amazing medic.”
He lets out a soft laugh, picking the green child up and sitting him in his lap. “An amazing medic who passed out after seeing a blaster burn for the first time.”
“Oh, c’mon, that was one time. I didn’t have any experience yet!” You lean into him unconsciously as you both play with your adopted child. “Besides…you don’t seem to be complaining. I mean who else is gonna patch you up? Certainly, not him,” a pair of big brown eyes meets yours. “The kids smart, but he’d definitely try eating at least half of what’s in that med kit.”
He laughs harder this time. The sound reverberates off the walls of the Razor Crest and rattles your ribs.
He’s lovely.
The two of you fall into another bout of comfortable silence. The only sounds are the occasional creaks of an old ship and the baby’s soft humming.
“Y/N…?” You turn your head enough so that way your eyes catch his through his helmet. He breathes deeply, chest rising and falling until yours fall into the same rhythm. He takes one particular shaky breath and then… “thank you.”
"Anytime."
ii.
“Y/N, this is Cobb Vanth. A frien—“
“The Marshal,” you say in awe. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”
The man in question shoots you a friendly smile: wide and toothy. He’s an attractive man, with dark silver hair swept to the one side of his face and bright hazel eyes that lift up at the corners. He softly takes your hand in his, cradling it like you do your child. “All good things I hope.”
You snicker, earning a wink from the stranger. He lets your hand fall at that, but never leaves your side, opting to face Mando and bump shoulders with you.
“Mando,” he muses. “You didn’t tell me how pretty your uh, friend here was. Would’ve liked to freshen up a bit, ya know.”
“No need.” Mando’s voice is low and dark and sends chills down your spine. “We’re just visiting. But we should go, it’s getting dark.” He practically stomps towards the two of you, shoulders squared out and head held up high. You quickly notice how his arms are held to his sides, fists clenched as though he’s restraining himself. It makes you nervous.
What he's restraining himself for? You don’t know. But the sight makes you gulp and want to hide in the safety of your bunk on the ship. Even the child, whose head pokes out of the brown satchel that rests on your hip, cowers back into the safety of the bag at the sight of the angry Mandalorian.
“Now wait just a second.” Cobb places a friendly hand on the man’s shoulder and points to the closest—and quite frankly, the only—cantina in Mos Pelgo. “You two just arrived. Take a break for once Mando, yeah? You’re all work and no play, it’s not healthy. Lemme buy you and the lady a drink.”
Somehow, your Mandalorian bristles even more at that notion, and before anything can escalate, you choose to interject.
“That sounds wonderful, Cobb, thank you.” Out of the corner of your eye, you see the familiar beskar helmet snap in your direction. He backs up a bit, adding distance between the three of you, and somehow that one act shows you just how tense the air had gotten.
You watch your friend as he shifts. It’s subtle, hardly noticeable if you’re a stranger—but all too familiar to you. He’s retreating. “You, you want to stay?” His voice is softer than usual and you swear you catch a hint of sadness.
It’s like a punch in the gut.
“Well, we’re just visiting, right? Might as well get a drink. I could go for some spotchka, and uh, I think you could use a break too.” You try to keep your tone as even as possible as you send Mando a comforting smile. One that you hope he accepts as an olive branch.
Instead, he just stands there for a couple seconds as your pulse pounds. Then, he bows his head. “…As you wish.”
“Great!” Cobb says as he leads the three of you up the steps of the cantina. He walks in ahead, calling to the bartender with a loud laugh.
Mando goes to follow him to the bar until you stop him in the middle of the room. You’re both extremely exposed, but that thought doesn’t concern you right now. As a matter of fact, not much does. The only thing that concerns you is him.
It’s always been him.
You open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. The air is thick and heavy but it’s not from the Tatooine heat, rather, the sudden coldness between two friends. You don’t know what to say to him, but you can’t leave it like this. You can’t pretend that something didn’t just happen, regardless of the fact that you don’t know what that something is. But he waits. He patiently stands there, but he never looks at you. You realize you can’t look at him either.
It can’t just be you…
The kid pushes himself further out of the bag to greet his father, probably picking up on the weird silence. That action alone gives you strength. “Are you okay?” You whisper. You meant to sound stern, but your throat is dry and scratched. You chalk it up as a side effect of being surrounded by sand, but you can’t rule out fear either.
“I don’t know what you mean,” is his response.
Your heart drops…maybe it is just you.
He’s far more composed than you: with his hands on his hips and visor trained on the baby gurgling at your hip. You take a quick once-over of him to make sure you’re not hallucinating, but he remains relaxed. There’s still something wrong. Something feels off with his words, and it hurts to analyze. To worry. To hope that everything’s okay when it definitely feels like it isn’t. “Look,” he sighs and goes to reach for your arm in a way he’s done countless times before. But he stops. He stops mid-air, and you wait for something to happen, but it never does. Simply, you watch him retreat for the second time in ten minutes. “You’re right. We need a break and Cobb’s good company. Seems to like you a lot. Let’s just enjoy ourselves.”
You step closer to him and wish more than anything that you could actually see his eyes. You want to see the colours that flicker in his iris’; the way you imagine they soften at the sight of his son, and how they glow when he laughs. You want to pinpoint the different emotions he feels through eyes alone, but he doesn’t give you that. He just nods politely and walks inside the cantina leaving you and the little green guy to fear the worst.
iii.
He feels stupid.
Like, really kriffing stupid.
Cobb had picked the table furthest from the bar, smack dab in the corner, providing an ample view of the entire cantina. Though there weren’t that many patrons, Din still liked to be in the corner. He was an observer after all. It was where he had the most control because he didn’t have to worry about anyone sneaking up on him. It also allowed him to see everyone in a more subtle way; one where he wasn’t blatantly staring and would likely rile up a drunk who wanted to pick a fight.
He could monitor things and still be able to enjoy what little amount he allowed himself to partake in.
But he feels stupid. Because that’s not the case right now.
He could have a group of raiders walk right up to him and he would never notice. Not when he’s staring at you. It isn’t that this is a rare thing he does because it happens more often than he’d care to admit—when his attention drifts to the one thing, the one person, that somehow constantly invades his mind.
He tells himself that it’s for safety. He’s keeping an eye on you, making sure you’re alright and that no one’s bothering you (although he’s the first one to say anything whenever anyone does). But even he knows that’s a lie.
It’s not uncommon for him to steal subtle (or what he hopes are subtle) glances at you, but it is uncommon for him to be this angry when looking at you.
Usually, he’s at peace when it comes to you. But he wasn’t anticipating Cobb to invite the two of you for a drink. He wasn’t anticipating Cobb to take such a liking to you, nor, to offer to go with you to the bar to get said drinks even though you’re more than capable. But out of all the surprises he’s had today, the one that shakes him the most is you taking such a liking to Cobb.
The two of you are talking wildly to each other as the barkeep prepares your drinks. You’re smiling at him and he’s smiling right back, and you’re doing that thing where when you get excited you talk with your hands.
Din finds it endearing, but right now it’s different. Because he’s just watching. He’s not the one you’re excited about. So, he can’t bring himself to join you two. He knows that he wouldn’t be able to handle seeing you look at him like he’s a burden, a buzzkill who only knows how to follow you like a lost pet. But he wants to. Maker does he ever. Because maybe at the end of it all he’d get to keep you. You’d choose him after realizing that he’s always chosen you.
He forces himself to look away at that. Why would you choose someone who you can’t even see return your smile?
He’d never disobey his Creed. It’s a part of him, it’s what he stands for. And yet, he can’t count the number of times he’s second-guessed himself just to show you that he does in fact smile, that he’s alive, that he needs you more than anything. He’s a breathing man with a bleeding heart that wasn’t made for you but can’t live without you. And he hates it.
“Here we go,” Cobb sits down gently on the chair and places the drinks in the middle of the table.
Din keeps his arms crossed over his chest as he watches you take the seat beside him. The kid notices your back and immediately grasps for your attention. Which you give to him every single time because you love him.
Din would give anything to be him.
You sit the child down in your lap and grab at your glass of spotchka when a look of realization hits you. “Oh, we forgot his broth.”
Cobb, in what Din sees as a chance to impress you, is already up before you can ask. “I got it. You sit tight little guy.”
The man saunters off and when he’s out of earshot, you turn to look at him. Din feels himself start to sweat. “So, I know you said everything’s okay, but I call bullshit.”
Din’s eyes widen at the blunt statement. Not that she can see, but he’s very aware of his reactions to her (maybe the fact that she can't see is for the best). “Mando, what’s going on?” She lifts the baby up so that he can see him clearer. “We’re both worried.”
He sighs and shifts in his seat. Quickly, he weighs his options.
He could ignore her, wait until Cobb gets back, and then interrupt their little date. Cobb would get the hint and she’d be back with him and their kid on the Razor Crest. But he realizes that’s selfish of him and she’d be even angrier with him…possibly even hate him, which is the last thing he wants. Ever. So he scraps that thought. He thinks that he could bluff his way out of the situation: tell her his mind is once again on his abandoned covert and that he’s just having an off-day. It wouldn’t be the first time, and if he was convincing enough she’d probably believe him. But then he thinks of something different. He considers, for a very brief moment, what it’d be like if he just told her. He could tell her everything. How she’s all he can think about most days and nights, how he imagines what it’d be like to actually hold her hand without reason, and most importantly, how his biggest fantasy involves him taking off his helmet and kissing her. Actually kissing her like he’s longed to do since the first week of having her stay with them.
She doesn’t long for you, though.
He realizes she’s still looking at him and so he makes his decision. “It’s just an off-day for me, cyar’ika. I’ll be alright. I’m sorry if I worried you and the little one.”
She pauses, her face turned downward in sadness. His heart twists painfully. But soon she smiles. It’s faint and fake and nothing like her usual self, but it’s something.
“Okay.”
Cobb comes back to the table with a small bowl of broth and places it before the kid. The conversation returns to normal and Din is thankful that the noise is just loud enough to drown his thoughts. Even if for a short while.
iv.
“Oh, Mando look at this!”
You show him a large green and blue textile with intricate designs along its edges. It was knitted with care and looked impossibly comfortable, as far as Din could tell. “It’s beautiful.”
You smile widely and lift it up to properly look it over. “It reminds me of him.” You look down to the child that this time Din was now holding. He lifts him out of the bag in order to show him the blanket, which he immediately grabs onto. The baby coos at you, which elicits a giggle and smooth knuckles to run over his cheek. “He likes it,” you say. “We should get it for him. It can be his new blanket.”
“He has lots of blankets, cyar’ika.” He knows you know this. You're both a sucker for the little guy, but at some point Din reasons, he will have to stop spending so many credits on blankets. Though, if it keeps his cyar’ika and his ad’ika happy, he figures it can’t be all that bad.
It seems though you’ve already beat him to that realization. “Yeah, and who gets him all those blankets? Us. ‘Cause, we’re the best parents in this kriffing galaxy.”
His parents. Din preens at your words. “I’ll buy it. You go look around some more, we’re gonna have to leave soon.”
You frown playfully at him but take his advice and skip off to another booth filled with hand-made items.
Din smiles at you beneath his mask then looks down to see his child already looking up at him. The baby, who knows far more than he lets on, looks at him and then looks at you, only to look back at Din. It’s then his turn to follow the kid’s line of sight before it clicks. “No. Not happening,” Din mutters, pulling a couple of credits out of his pocket and passing them to the vendor who gives him the folded blanket.
He tucks the blanket under his arm then walks in your direction. You had moved on to a new vendor, touching anything you could get your hands on. This particular display though seemed to have you preoccupied as you proved to be too distracted to notice him come up beside you. “Find anything you like?”
You don't respond, but Din sees how your eyes were fixated on one particular piece of jewelry. The necklace was strung up on the stand closest to the woman who he assumed made them: a beautiful, long silver chain with a small moonstone attached to it. You admire it, but eventually back away from the display. You take a quick glance at all the pieces one last time before smiling at the lady then looking up to Din.
“No, it’s alright. Let’s go home.” Home. Our home.
He looks at the table and then at you. He’s not really good at the whole surprise thing (in all fairness he’s never had anyone to surprise) but, he thinks, as Cara always tells him ‘there’s a first for everything', he might as well start now.
“You go ahead, cyar’ika. I’ll catch up. I just need to finalize some things with the bounty.” Din passes you the child and the blanket and he pretends he doesn’t notice his pulse quicken when you look at him like he’s the kindest person in the galaxy.
He’s not. But he hopes he’s enough for you.
You touch his shoulder, the same shoulder you healed only weeks ago, then walk away to the loading dock with your child in tow as Din heads back to the market.
v.
You don’t think you will ever get used to hyperspace.
Colours, the kind you imagine even the queen of Naboo is envious of, rush past you in a mosaic of light. Your heart drops to your stomach as you lurch forward into what always seems like another dimension. It’s a visceral experience. It’s addictive.
The Razor Crest is a big ship, but in hyperspace, it’s weightless. And maybe that’s why you love it so much because you can’t get that kind of weightlessness anywhere else.
You’re invigorated by it at all.
Unfortunately, not everyone on the ship is having as good of a time as you are.
Below the cockpit, down the stairs, and to the right is where Din paces back and forth. The child watches from the corner, eyes going back and forth, stopping, then going back and forth again as he tracks his dad's nervous movement.
Din then stops and sits beside the kid with his back against the wall. “I don’t think I’ve ever given a gift before.”
Mandalorians don’t get nervous; they’re not supposed to. They’re supposed to be composed warriors, the soldier everyone relies on. But right now, Din can’t even rely on himself.
It’s really nothing special, simply a necklace. A piece of jewelry that you eyed, but eventually dismiss—
Wait. Did you even want the necklace?
Maybe Din read the situation wrong and you had actually decided you didn’t like it. Maybe you were simply looking at it because it was ugly, like how you study something you don’t understand.
Great. Now he’s going to give you an ugly necklace that you don’t want.
Maybe he’s not as observant as everyone says he is. As he likes to think he is.
“Dank farrik.” Din slams the back of his beskar covered head into the metal wall. This wasn’t exactly how he planned this to go.
In hindsight, he wasn’t exactly sure of how it would play out anyway, but he liked to believe giving you the necklace would lead to you giving him some amount of attention. No matter how little or how much, as long as it came from you he’d do anything for it.
Maybe he’d give it to you and you’d smile in the warm way only you can. The kind of smile that even the most beautiful of moons cry over because they’re nothing compared to you. Maybe you’d touch his face through his helmet and he’d soak into your embrace the way he’s done thousands of times before. Or maybe you’d laugh, take the gift and never think about it again.
Yeah. That sounds more probable.
“I don’t know, buddy… Do you think she’ll like it?” He goes to reach for the necklace in his pocket but it’s not there. And quite frankly neither is his kid.
He’s frantic in his search for the child and the jewelry until his eyes catch him on the ladder.
Since when did he—
Damn it.
He jumps up, as quickly as his body will allow, but the baby’s already at the top with the necklace in hand.
Your little green child coos. Your turn your head to see him shuffling over to you, a huge grin on his face with something stuck in his mouth.
“Ugh,” pushing yourself off the captain's chair, you nab the kid and sit back down with him. “How do you find this stuff, I swear to Maker, kid.”
His teeth clamp harder on the object as you try to pry it out of his mouth until you finally get your fingers around it and pull it out. It’s wet from his saliva and he laughs at you as you wipe it on your shirt in disgust. Lifting him up so he’s above eye level you give him a stern look. “Stop trying to eat everything. Especially when you don’t know where that thing's been.”
Your scolding just makes him giggle harder, forcing you to roll your eyes. You swear you’re going to roll your eyes right out of their sockets one day.
You both then turn your heads to the sound of shoes pounding up the ladder, and then the door opens to the cockpit.
Mando stands there breathing heavily, as his helmet scans the entire room before landing on you two.
“Are you…are you doing okay?”
Even under his helmet, you can tell he’s flustered, and then as quickly as he came up the steps, he focuses on you. “Sorry, I just…he had a thing in his mouth and I didn’t want him to swallow it.”
“Oh yeah trust me, I already fought with him over it.” You laugh while picking up the object you set to the side.
You swear you actually hear Mando’s breath stutter as you finally take a look at the object. At first, you don’t recognize it, concern flooding your mind at the thought of your little baby choking on something as dangerous as this.
But then you realize what it is.
Din’s shifted his weight to his other leg and he can feel his hands flex nervously—compression gloves not enough to stop him from wanting to grab the object right out of your grasp.
But he knows you. He knows you well. And he can see you’ve already figured out what you’re holding.
Your eyes meet his through his helmet. “This is…this is the necklace.” It dangles from your fingertips, and the child swats at it—the jewelry becoming his newfound obsession. “The one from the market I was looking at…”
“Yes.” He cringes at how he sounds. So quick and robotic and awkward, and so very unprepared. He’s never felt this nervous before, and yet he can’t back away. He has to deal with it. “You didn’t buy it, but, I thought maybe you still wanted it. So I got it for you. As…as a gift.”
You look down at the pendant and smile softly, running your thumb over the cool, smooth stone. “If you don’t want it, I can trade it for something else when we land. Something more desirable—“
“What’s that word…?” You both speak at the same time.
“Sorry,” you chuckle out. You’ve caught his attention though, caught him off guard on his needless apology, so you clear your throat. “How do you say beautiful in Mando’a?”
He’s stunned beyond words. Beyond thoughts. And yes, he’s acutely aware of the fact that he knows he probably looks like an idiot—a man who doesn’t even know how to talk to the woman he loves, much less surprise her with something so heartfelt. But the way you look at him, sincerity in your eyes as you await a response, his brain short circuits and he somehow gives you one.
“The word is mesh’la.”
“Mesh’la,” you repeat softly. He feels his knees buckle at your voice speaking in his mother tongue and he curses every deity for putting him in such a foreign situation.
But then you’re putting the necklace on without a second thought. As though it’s routine and the necklace is already part of your being. And then his nervousness melts away. It de-escalates into something different. Something that propels him further, closer to you.
You’re a magnet and he’s the piece of metal flying through the air, willed by a force he cannot control. “Do you…like it?”
“I wouldn’t be putting it on if I didn’t like it, now would I be, Mando?”
“Din.”
“…what?”
He hadn’t even noticed that it slipped out. And he’s surprised his covert haven’t already started to beat down the walls of his ship. A confession of a gift is one thing, but Din telling you his name is just purely reckless. He should stop while he’s ahead, but the dam has been cracking beneath the weight of his feelings for a long time. So it seems that it’s time he gives them a chance.
“My name,” his voice shakes, wavers with each syllable. “My name, cyar’ika, is Din Djarin.”
You stare out, eyes wide with shock and disbelief. But then there’s a calmness that shines through. You look down at the kid, who has been watching the two of you closely for a while now.
He hears his heart pounding in his ears so loudly he’s positive he's going to pass out. “Din…” You repeat the name slowly, unsure of it as you test out the way it feels as it rolls off your tongue. “Din. I like that name. It suits you.”
“I like your name, too.” You laugh loudly. If it were out of context, he would’ve panicked at your laughter, but after realizing how ridiculous he sounded, he finds it easy to laugh right along with you.
You hold the kid in the crook of your elbow as you stand in front of the man with a permanent smile on your face. “And uh, cyar’ika…” Din’s heart drops to his stomach and his blood runs cold. “What does that mean? I figured it meant friend or something like that but…” you’re hesitant to voice your thoughts, worried that maybe you’re overthinking it; anticipating and expecting something only for it not to be there. Wishful thinking. “I’m just curious.”
Of course, you are. Why wouldn’t you be? It was only a matter of time before you were going to ask him. Only a matter of time before you put all the signs together. Before you realized you didn’t want him that way.
Cara once told him he wasn’t subtle. At first, he had no clue what she meant, but he knows now. And he wishes he didn’t.
He takes a deep breath and tries to ignore the welling up in the corner of his eyes, but understands that it’s pointless. His time is up.
“Cyar’ika…” his tongue swells up his mouth. He’s never felt this breathless before. “It means sweetheart.”
Even from behind his helmet he feels exposed. Everything is out in the open and nothing he can do, or say, can fix it. And the fact that this is the first time since he met you that he can’t read you? It truly terrifies him.
He tenses up, waiting for the moment in which you say goodbye. When you kiss the forehead of your child, pack up your things, and give your awkward thanks to Din for allowing you to stay with them.
He waits, and waits, and waits. But it never comes. Instead, you slowly bring your hands up to his. He holds his breath, or rather, his breath holds him. Your hands gently glide on his arms until they reach the broad expanse of his shoulders, and then the edges of his helmet.
He hesitates, but you don’t stop there. Eventually, your hands stop on the sides of his helmet, where you assume the sides of his face would be if you were to hold him without his armor. He can’t help but lean into the contact you provide him. Even through the impenetrable beskar, he can still feel the warmth of your hands on his skin, imagines how it would feel to place his skin on yours. It may be temporary, but if this is all he’ll get for the rest of his life, he’d die happy. “What should I call you then?”
He…wasn’t expecting that. Actually, it was the last thing he expected you to say. You take his silence as a good sign to keep going. “Well, if you call me sweetheart…what should I call you?”
“I…” Din almost cries. He’s tired, stressed, and feels like he’s on a tightrope. But the more he thinks about it, the more he realizes you aren’t running away. You’re staying here. Touching him through his helmet and looking at him the way he’s wanted you to for what feels like forever. You're looking at him the same way he looks at you. “Din. I just want you to call me Din.”
You smile at that. At him. “Din…” he melts underneath you, relishing in the way his name sounds in your voice. And then you're reaching up to him, hands still holding his helmet firmly as you ever-so-gently pull him to meet you. And then…
Then you kiss him. You plant a feather-light kiss to his helmet, one that lingers and permanently takes ownership of his breath. You pull away from him before pressing your foreheads together and Din swears he just died.
The two of you stay like that for…you aren’t too sure how long. It feels like it’s been both seconds and minutes. Although you really aren’t keeping track, the dizzying feeling rattling around in your skull makes your brain feel like mush.
You can feel Din’s breastplates move slowly, letting you know that he’s calmed down, coming down from the shared high of two friends who’ve finally collided. He inhales deeply and his hands rest over yours. Your fingers intertwine on the sides of his helmet, but then he’s lifting up the beskar, and you panic.
“Din, stop.” You don’t realize how breathless you’ve become and you’re shocked that even with the lack of oxygen to your brain, you’re still aware of his creed.
But he cuts you off and presses his forehead to yours again. “It’s okay, just…just close your eyes. Please.” It's almost a whimper, and the sound ruins you (you take mental note of that sound for later). So you close your eyes.
You’re eager to feel him. To touch skin rather than just beskar. You don’t know what he looks like, might not know for a long time, but you’ll know what he'll feel like. And right now that’s the only thing keeping you going.
Your hands feel him first. Smooth and warm and a hint of stubble. You begin to map out his face with your hands, all while he holds you. It’s the most intimate you’ve ever been with someone…the most intimate you think you’ll ever be. Then, he’s kissing you. It’s firm, yet gentle. Soft, yet hard. It’s everything you both imagined it to be, and more.
It’s so beautiful it hurts. But at least now you two don’t have to deal with the pain on your own.
More Posts from Letthefuckeduptimesflow and Others
05. hyunjin / 5813 words
stoner!hyunjin, softdom!hyunjin, female reader, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, cream pie, size kink, reader is quite obedient here, fluff
tw: mentions of drugs
a/n: i wrote the first part of this drabble on my sfw account but decided to expand it and wrote the smut part for it. i doubt you’ll see something similar, but if you do, that’s most likely me. / please do envision this hyunjin to look exactly like ta!hyunjin.
the smoke stopped bothering you as much as it used to.
starting from burned up cigarettes to block-shaped vapes to dried up marijuana—you were no expert when it came to drugs but the ones you can name from the top of your head, you have likely seen hyunjin smoke it, whether it was under the bleachers during the weekend football matches or at a secret corner of the school’s backyard where teachers rarely head to check for students.
well, he did stop smoking at the backyard ever since you told him not to because that was where the school bunnies were taken care of. that was the only one of many advice he has taken from you ever since you found out he was half-way down his path to becoming a chronic smoker.
Keep reading
How about where you are hanging out with jungkook a lot and yeonjun gets really jealous and tries to show you who you belong to 🥺
! - oral [face fucking], degradation, spitting, orgasm denial
it’s been a while since yeonjun directed a word at you and from his expression, you can tell he’s far from happy - jaw locked, knuckles white from his tight grip on the steering wheel and chest heaving up and down with each heavy breath. you didn’t dare mention it throughout your journey back home but you knew there was something going on that was messing with his head. yeonjun never got this angry and, perhaps, his newly found mood was what prevented you from building up the courage to ask until he was done parking outside his apartment.
Keep reading
can you maybe do an older!elvis x reader with a daddy kink. Maybe he sees you flirting with another guy and pulls you into another room and has angry sex with you
That’s Alright Mama
a/n: I’m thinking comeback special Elvis? Loved him in that scene. Not proofread. Feel free to leave a tip if you’re able ❤️
warnings: dubious consent, breeding kink, all of the above basically.
Elvis had made you mad to put it simply. You saw the way he looked at girls and you saw the way those girls looked at him. It left you with a bad feeling in your gut and a horrendous taste in your mouth. He was much older than you, you knew he was much more experienced and you could leave him wanting things sometimes. You were trying though, actually trying to be what he wanted. He knew you were innocent when you met, that no other man had laid their hands on you until him. Truth be told, that was part of what attracted him so deeply to you. You were something for him to posses, to own. Something no one had before and no one would have again.
Elvis was 32 and you were just 18, fresh out of high school. You had known each other your whole lives and you always thought Elvis was so cute, and when his career started taking off it was just a wasted dream. You never imagined when you went to visit him with your dad in Memphis he would be absolutely enamored by you. Your dad sensed that attraction between you and Elvis, and he was not happy about it. But, there was nothing he could do. Elvis was the most famous man in the world and there was no way to say no to him. That night, He demanded that your father let you stay longer, said he would give you a ride home. Well, Elvis never took you home and you never went back home either. You had been with him since that day, it was only two months ago but if felt like a lifetime. You were in love, absolutely in love with this man.
But, at this very moment, you were angry with him. He had just bought you a new, nice dress and he was taking you out on a date. Said his baby had to look nice for him, just had to show you off. You were at the restaurant when this woman began to talk his head off, he was too involved in his conversation to notice that you had left and went to the bathroom.
On your way back, a man who had been watching you all night came up to you and began flirting with you. You looked over at your table and saw that she was still there, looking at him with those fuck me eyes. The jealously was like a pit in your stomach, causing you to do something you would’ve never, ever normally done.
“Hey love,” the man walked over to you. He was not bad looking, tall with blonde hair and brown eyes. But, he wasn’t Elvis. You glanced back over to your very handsome boyfriend, and he still seemed to not even notice you were gone.
You smiled sweetly at the blonde in front of you, “hi cutie,” you put on your sweet, southern charm. You knew guys loved that, just couldn’t get enough of it.
“So, what are you doing all alone?” He asked, trying to make conversation with you. You internally rolled your eyes, what did he think? He just saw you coming from the bathroom. You weren’t going to say that though.
“Oh, you know, just walking back to my seat,” you said sweetly, trying to play it dumb. You were hoping that Elvis was watching you now, but you weren’t going to bother turning your head to glance at him.
“You’re here with your dad tonight?” He asked. And it was genuine too, if you had water in your mouth you would’ve spit it out. The question was hilarious and you couldn’t help but let out a laugh.
“I guess you could say that,” you snickered in response, already done with the conversation now. The man’s eyes looked scared, but you didn’t think twice of it as you turned around.
But, you were met with Elvis’ very firm chest. You looked up and saw the anger on his face, he had heard what you just said. You couldn’t even bother yourself to care, strutting right past him. That’s what he gets, he knew how jealous of a person you were and it felt good to make him green for once. You were angry at him, livid even. You had been gone for twenty minutes and he just now noticed. It wouldn’t have been a problem if that stupid women wasn’t so goddamn attractive. She was more his age, more appropriate for him to be with due to the press.
He attempted to grab your arm to stop you from walking away from him, “Y/N,” he said in warning. But you weren’t having it, nope not one bit. He had no right to be angry at you when he was blatantly flirting with that girl, unintentionally. At least you were doing it out of spite, not because you actually liked the guy. You walked to the car and he was storming after you, right on your heels. You were just as stubborn as he was and he knew it too.
“Y/N!” He shouted as you finally made it to the car, it felt like an eternity.
“What Elvis? Huh?” You asked angrily.
“What Elvis?” He scoffed in response, “you know damn well what Y/N. Callin’ me your dad? That’s just fuckin’ embarrassing.” He spoke angrily, but he was still as handsome as ever. “Not to mention you were flirtin’ with the guy as if I don’t even exist.”
“Ha,” it was your turn to scoff in response. “You know what’s fucking embarrassing Elvis? Sitting right next your boyfriend while he practically eye fucks a woman, that’s embarrassing.”
“I was not eye fucking her Y/N,” he retorted. “Get in the fucking car.”
“My pleasure, take me home while you’re at it. And I mean my home,” you said, and as soon as you said those words you regretted them. You saw the anger and the sadness on his face.
“You’re not going home Y/N,” he said in response, he wouldn’t take you. Not even if you begged and pleaded, you were his. “You’re going to our home and you’re gonna apologize for being such a brat.”
“Me? Apologize ?” You rhetorically asked, looking over at him. The anger was evident in his deep blue eyes, his tan skin had a red hue. It was like his anger was evident through his skin. “I want an apology Elvis, I did what I did to make you mad. Hell, you acted like I wasn’t even there.”
“Well, Y/N that’s business and you’re gonna have to learn it. You knew what you were getting into when you started dating me,” he said, while driving. You were on your way home to Graceland and his eyes never seemed to look at you. Like he was disgusted with you. “You did what you did to make me mad, and by God you did it. You wanna tell people I’m your dad? Well I’m gonna act like it.”
You had never seen him this mad before, and while it frightened you it also left you feeling excited. You couldn’t wait to see what was going to happen. You kept your mouth shut the rest of the way home, not wanting to add fuel to the fire. You had a mouth on you, both you and Elvis knew it. Normally, he wouldn’t react to it. He was always very level headed, able to keep calm even when you weren’t able to.
You pulled into the house and he parked outside the front, he shut the car off but he didn’t say a word. He didn’t even look over at you. As your anger leveled off, you felt a pit of nervousness form in your stomach. Maybe he was done with you for good now, you weren’t old enough, mature enough, or level headed enough.
“Get out,” he spoke lowly, “go upstairs, sit on the bed, and wait for me.”
You were no longer excited now. Your breaths quickened, your nerves getting the best of you. You couldn’t even find the words to say yes, so you just did exactly what he asked and got out of the car. You closed the door softly, hoping not to provoke him even more. Your hands were shaking, you wished you didn’t have such a big mouth sometimes. It always messed stuff up. You walked in the house and in a daze found yourself going up the stairs into your shared bedroom.
You sat on the satin sheets, your legs crossed expectantly. Your anger always got the best of you, but when it came down to it you were just a guarded person who didn’t know how to react to situations that left you uncomfortable.
You soon heard his footsteps coming up the stairs, pounding like your heart in your chest. You looked down in your lap, only seeing him out of the peripheral of your vision. You were too scared to look him in the eye. You felt him sit next to you, but you refused to look up and acknowledge him.
“Take your panties off,” he said gruffly. You looked up at him in shock, watching him undo his belt. “Did I stutter?”
You shook your head no and took them off just like he asked. In the back of your head, you knew it would be best for you if you just listened to what he said. He held his belt in his hand and it left fear wracking through your body.
“Bend over the bed, and don’t look at me,” he said in a demanding tone, and you did just what he asked. He walked over to you, massaging your ass as you were bent over. You tried to look back, but his hand was placed at the nape of your neck forcing you to look forward.
"You call me your dad? Huh? I'm gonna punish you like one," he spoke, leaning over you. Your breaths trembled, feeling the fear in your lungs. "Gonna spank you girl, say yes daddy," he demanded, his tone putting fear into you.
"Y-yes, daddy," your voice came out as shaky as you felt. His belt came down on your ass as soon as the affirmative left your mouth, you let out a squeal in response to the pain.
"Think you can humiliate me like that? Tell people I'm your dad? That shit's embarrassing Y/N," he said, smoothing over the welt that was sure to be made.
"S-sorry," you cried out, you had a bad feeling in your gut.
"Sorry what?" He asked, but he knew the response. He knew what he wanted you to stay.
"Sorry daddy," you said softly and then he smacked your ass with the belt again. It was almost as if he was punishing you for saying what he wanted you to say.
He smacked your ass three more times in succession, five times altogether. Tears were falling down your face from the pain, but you knew you deserved it after the stunt you pulled today.
He backed away from you, letting you turn your face to look at him now. You watched as he unbuttoned his shirt, a darkness in his eyes that you had never seen before.
"Here's what's gonna happen Y/N," he spoke as he unbuttoned his pants and pulled down his boxers, exposing everything to you. You let out a small gasp, the air barely reaching your lungs. He seemed harder and thicker than ever before. He walked over to you, that dark glint still in your eyes. "I'm gonna fuck you and you're not gonna say a word, heard too much out of that fucking mouth tonight," he degraded you. You should've been mad, but it only left a pool of heat collecting in your panties.
You just nodded your head in agreeance, but even if you said no you were sure he would’ve still gone about his business. he lifted you fully on the bed but you were still on your hands and knees. You could feel him rubbing his tip up and down your folds, it left your back shuttering in response. He rammed into you before you could process anything else.
You both gasped as he bottomed out in you, a slight hint of pain as he stretched you. Your eyes were still watery from the belt. It was an overwhelming feeling to be so completely full of someone like this.
“So tight Y/N, made just for me,” he said as he began to slowly thrust in and out.
“So wet for me Y/N, who knew you could be such a slut,” he said confidently. You moaned as his hand reached under you to play with your clit. The pleasure was mind numbing, to be used as a fuck toy like this. It left you feeling in awe of him.
You only managed to let out grunts and moans as Elvis continued to fuck into you, occasionally smacking your ass leaving tears streaming down your face.
“Gonna fuck a baby into you, finally make me a daddy,” he said grunting. His hands pushing your upper body down, forcing you ass higher in the air. The new angle caused you to see stars, he was so deep that you completely forgot about the words he grunted. His hips smacking into yours made the air leave your lungs. Your breaths disrupted your moans. Your face was pressed into the sheets, leaving no room for oxygen to enter your lungs.
You looked back at him, his hands firmly pressed into your back. It was a glorious sight to see him like this, his hair messed up. Him so care free as he fucked you.
“You’re mine Y/N, gonna make you so full of me everyone knows it too,” he said as his hips stuttered into yours. You were close and so was he, it was hard not to finish fast like this. Everything was so hard and fast about this, but in a way it was filled with love. It was everything love was about, jealousy and passion.
“Daddy,” you moaned, disobeying him for the first time since he commanded the order. He was too into you to even care, too into reaching you and him to that point. Too into finishing in you and reaching his goal.
“Gonna make you a mama,” he said, reaching under you to play with your clit again and you couldn’t help but gasp and buck your hips into him. The ball seemed to pop in your stomach and you completely let go, your body completely going limp as he continued to fuck into you. He raised your hips up with his hands as he continued his assault.
He thrusted, hard, going the deepest he had ever before. And that’s where he came. You both moaned at the feeling as he collapsed into you, you didn’t even think twice about the repercussions of his actions. You would be anything he wanted you to be, and if one of those things were to be a mother, you would be.
You stayed connected like this for a few minutes, and then he pulled out of you to see the damage he had done. The belt had already left your skin raised, puffy and red. Soon, it would bruise. His fingers lightly traced the marks and you winced in reaction.
“I’m sorry mama,” he whispered, his anger overtook him and he was entirely too hard on you. It left a bad feeling in his gut.
“It’s okay,” you assured him. He saw the cum fall out of you, and he reached his finger and picked it up and shoved it back into you.
“Gotta keep it all, Y/N,” he mumbled under his breath. You repeated the events of that night over and over, fucking his love into you and making sure it would stick. He wanted everyone to know who you belonged to. You wanted it too.
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see you through my eyes part 2 —b.b.
pairing: bradley “rooster” bradshaw x fm mitchell! reader.
warnings: cursing, drinking, unprotected penetrative sex, oral (fm receiving), choking, dirty talk, lots of fluff stuff, bradley bradshaw is a FUCKING TEASE, mentions of poor mental health, mentions of death/immediate family death/funerals. 18+ MINORS DNI
word count: 2.6k
read part one here.
a/n: like always, this is not proofread yet so i apologize for any mistakes. i hope you all enjoy! y’all i love this man!!!!!!!
The night air was warm and welcoming, pushing your hair around with the breeze. Some old rock music, yours and Bradley’s favorite, played from a nearby speaker. The two of you sat on the patio, each nursing a beer. You hummed cheerfully, the slightest bit tipsy.
The backyard was by far your favorite part of your house. You’d hung up a few sets of string lights, and ofcourse had some of your favorite plants scattered around. The entirety of the yard was fenced in, and although you would love to have a real pool, the small blow-up one you bought for Cameron served an equal purpose.
You and Bradley had been talking for nearly two hours. Simply catching up on life and reminiscing on old memories— sharing many needed laughs.
It had been three days since your mother’s funeral and you still hadn’t fully pieced yourself together. Although, Bradley’s company was a great help. He understood your emotions and the feeling of emptiness you couldn’t seem to get rid of. He made great effort to comfort you, and had made sure Cameron was taken care of so you could have some time to yourself.
Cameron had clung to him, maybe not fully understanding who Bradley was, yet he was absolutely entranced by the man. He wanted to go anywhere Bradley went, and even though you’d explained to the child that his name wasn’t really Rooster, he wouldn’t call him anything else. You were beyond happy to see the two of them together at last. It made your soul feel at ease.
“Hey.” Bradley tapped your arm, pulling you from your aparrent trance. “You okay?”
“Yeah, just thinking.” You spoke softly.
He gave you a small smile and patted his leg. “C’mere.”
You stood up, sitting your nearly empty bottle down on the table before taking a seat on his lap. Your arms wrapped around him and you rested your head on his shoulder. He ran a hand along your back, smiling to himself when he felt you relax.
“Thank you for being here.” You whispered.
“No place I’d rather be in the world.”
Bradley had already expressed to you that he’d made a phone call days earlier as a request to transfer back to Oceana where he’d been stationed at years before. It was bittersweet, the thought of possibly having Bradley back— maybe forever.
He seemed content, openly speaking about the idea of the two of you buying a new house closer to base and Cameron growing up with his father. You eyed him, smiling. There had been minimal talk about the future when it came to you and Bradley. Regardless, you were hopeful.
He reached up, pushing a bit of hair from your face and smiling up at you. “So pretty, darlin.” You made your best efforts not to squirm in his lap at his words. If there was one thing about Bradley Bradshaw that killed you, it was how much of a sweet talker he was. His voice was deep and rich, as sweet as could be. He always knew exactly what to say. “Oh hush.”
“You are.” He chuckled, taking a sip of his beer.
“I look like a sleep deprived mother of a three year old.” You corrected him.
“Yet oh so pretty.”
You looked away, cheeks hot and lips turned up in a smile.
“Look at me.” He teased.
“No, because the more I look at you the more I want to kiss your stupid face.”
“Oh.” He laughed, as if he had dug some confidential information out of you. You mentally cursed yourself, letting out a laugh too. “So kiss me then.”
“No!” You started to pull away from him playfully, knowing if he kissed you, you’d be a goner.
He tightened his grip on you, making you look at him.
You swallowed hard, eyes closing as you gave in and let him pull you into a sweet kiss. The feeling of his lips on yours was reminiscent, and had you feeling as if you were going to melt. You felt him smile into the kiss, your tongues meeting languidly. After a few seconds, you both pulled away.
“I think it’s past your bedtime.” Bradley joked, finishing his beer and trying to settle himself down. He wanted nothing more than to take you right there, like old times— but he knew that wasn’t respectful nor appropriate. So, he watched you shyly climb off his lap and start to gather up empty bottles.
“I believe it’s probably past yours too, Lieutenant.” You smiled.
“Oh, very much so.”
When you climbed into bed that night, you immediately knew you wouldn’t be getting much sleep. Your mind was running absolutely rampant, and for a moment you considered taking a melatonin or two. The feeling of his lips and hands on you was inescapable, and your thoughts were well, very improper. Even though you and Bradley had a past, he still made you feel giddy— like you’d never been touched before. The ache was inexplicable. God, you felt like a fucking teenager.
You tossed and turned for a while, tangling yourself in the cool sheets. The lack of tiredness was aggravating to say the very least. Yet, there you laid.
An hour or two passed before you gave up, grabbing your phone off the nightstand and scrolling aimlessly to try to pass some time.
Another hour and a mental pep talk later, you were padding down the hall towards the guest room. Your heartbeat was rapid and adrenaline high.
You slowly opened the door, attempting to make the quietest entrance possible. The room was dark besides a minimal amount of moonlight peeking through the closed curtains. Closing the door behind you, you made your way to the bed. Bradley laid sprawled out in the middle of the mattress, tangled in the soft white sheets.
He stirred a bit as you climbed in next to him.
"You okay?" He mumbled, now awake and looking over at you with tired eyes.
"Yeah."
"Wanted some cuddles?" He teased.
"Something like that."
He turned over as you spoke, watching you scoot closer. He let out a yawn, trying to decipher the look on your face.
"Roos."
"What is it baby?"
"I want you to touch me." You begged. "Please."
You craved him in every way possible. Wanted him all over you. It had been all you could think about since he stepped foot in your damn house.
He leaned forward without another word or thought, pressing his lips to yours. Tongues met and hands wandered, leaving your head spinning. Bradley gripped your thigh, tossing your leg over his waist and pulling you as close as he could get you. Boy, had you missed this. Ofcourse the two of you were older and the circumstances were much more.. sensual this time. A warm hand ran along your bare leg and up to your hip where he discovered you were wearing only a tee shirt and panties. He groaned lightly, breaking the kiss and moving his lips along your jawline. "What do you want, honey?" He rasped.
"Want your mouth." You said, nearly breathless.
He smiled softly, pressing another mellow kiss to your lips before beginning to trail them down your neck. Hands moved to push up your tee shirt, revealing your bare chest. "So fucking pretty." He said. "Just like I remember." You whimpered, feeling his warm tongue run across your nipple before his lips wrapped around it— his fingers toying with the other. Your skin was on fire, mouth dry and breathing erratic— and he had barely touched you. He repositioned himself to lay between your legs, pressing tiny kisses to your hips and thighs. You were absolutely aching for his touch, squirming pitifully underneath him. "Honey." He mused. "So touch starved, aren't you? Need me to eat this pretty pussy bad, huh?"
You whined at his words, clenching around absolutely nothing. "Please Roos."
Long fingers worked to pull your panties down your legs before he tossed them to the floor. "Gotta be quiet for me, sweet baby. I'm gonna give you what you want— don't worry." You were nearly in a trance at this point, overwhelmed by his touch. He held your legs open, finally running his tongue along you in a long stripe. A long, lewd sounding whine left your lips, which didn't go unnoticed. Bradley found himself grinding his hips into the mattress just to find some friction. "You always make the prettiest noises." He whispered, tongue starting to work mercilessly at your clit. You writhed, wanting to scream as you felt two long fingers slide into you. "Fuck." You cried, eyes clamped shut. He was so fucking good at everything. His fingers made quick work and had you nearly falling apart. "So wet, honey."
You gripped the sheets beneath you with one hand, the other flying to his hair. Fingers wandered through, yanking gently and making him groan. He could tell you were close, clenching oh so tight around his fingers. "Gonna cum all over my fingers, mama?" He murmured against you, tongue still working relentlessly. You did your very best not to cry out as you fell over the edge. "Fuck yes." He said through gritted teeth, pumping his fingers in and out and working you through your high. "So pretty when you're cumming for me."
You were spent, body falling limp as you tried to catch your breath. Bradley stayed quiet, gently pulling you to the edge of the bed where he now stood. As much as he wanted to see your pretty lips wrapped around him, he couldn't handle much more.
"You sure this is okay, darlin’?" He asked politely, watching you nod in agreeance.
Bradley huffed as he ran himself along your soaked entrance. He already knew he wasn't going to last long. Not with those pretty little noises that kept falling from your lips. He pressed the head in, watching your eyes flutter shut and brows furrow. "You can take it." He promised. You'd never gotten used to the stretch. He was by far the biggest you'd experienced. He pushed in slowly, groaning. You wrapped around him deliciously, so fucking hot and wet. "That's my girl." He cooed, pressing wet kisses to your forehead and nose. "Takin' me so good, sweetheart." He finally bottomed out, heart racing and sweat forming on his brow. You opened your eyes again, looking at him and watching a smile spread across his lips.
"I missed you." He admitted, starting to rock against you slow. He kept a tight grip on your thighs, tight enough to leave little bruises from where his fingertips dug into your skin. You, ofcourse, didn't mind.
"I missed you more."
It was all you could do to stay quiet. Small sounds and his name repeatedly fell from your lips. You watched his face intently, his teeth tugging on his plump bottom lip. His hips smacked against you as he exhibited a pace that had you seeing stars. A warm hand extended to wrap lazily around the delicate skin of your neck. Bradley sighed, keeping up his motions as he toyed with your air supply. You were absolutely in heaven, placing one of your hands over his and meeting his eyes. "My dirty baby. You like being choked don't you?" He said, voice breaking. You nodded, letting out a whine. "So pretty." He cooed.
"Roos." You sounded absolutely wrecked.
"I know, honey." He choked out between thrusts, starting to fall apart himself. "I feel you— Be a good girl and cum again for me." Tears brimmed in your eyes as everything slowly became too much— too fucking good. He reached down, drawing quick circles around your clit as he pressed his lips to your own. You let out a broken cry, coil snapping and your legs shaking the slightest bit as you came apart beneath him.
"Just like that, baby. Fuck." Bradley praised, fucking you through it— thrusts sloppy and fast. He was obviously close himself. You felt out of body, softly gasping for air, eyes fluttering. "Want your cum, Roos." You pleaded, taking in the man before you in all of his glory. There truly was no one like him.
"Ah, shit baby." He groaned, hips snapping against yours a few more times before he pulled out swiftly, hand moving to run along his shaft and the most erotic noise falling from his lips as he came on your tummy. He hummed, euphoria pumping through his veins. His eyes searched for yours and lips turned up in a smile as sweet as honey. "Y'Did so good for me, mama." He said, kissing your forehead. "You are something else."
Rooster dissapeared into the darkness of the room, wandering over to the connected guest bathroom. You could hear a few drawers opening and closing before he made his way back over to you with a damp rag. He wiped you clean lovingly, sharing a smile with you before he laid down next to you. You both stayed silent as you came down. Warm bodies tangled together and soon enough you were unable to keep your eyes open.
When you awoke hours later, the sun was shining proudly through the curtains. The house smelled like coffee and you could clearly hear cartoons playing from the living room. You stretched, reaching down to the end of the bed where Rooster had laid your tee shirt. A smile you couldn't fight formed on your pink lips at the thought of what had happened earlier. You made your way first to your bedroom, slipping on some pajama shorts before you walked towards the living room.
"There's mommy!" Rooster cheered, catching the attention of your son who raced over to you and latched onto your leg. "Hey there, lovebug." You chuckled, kneeling down to press an exaggerated kiss to both of his cheeks, making him giggle.
Rooster watched in complete adoration, sipping his coffee. This— this is what he wanted for the rest of his life. Cameron turned his attention back to the tv and his toys, and you made your way to where Rooster sat.
"Morning, sweet thing." He said. You laughed softly, leaning to press your lips to his. "You hungry? You should be after all those calories you burned last night."
"Oh shut up." You smacked his arm, chuckling.
"I made pancakes. Me and Cam ate already since Mommy was still being a sleepyhead."
"That is alllll Daddy's fault." You joked, sharing a laugh with him.
"Maybe Daddy needs to teach Mommy another lesson." Rooster grinned, watching you walk towards the kitchen.
"Rooster!" You yelled.
"Rooser!" Cameron copied you, yelling out.
You broke into a fit of laughter, as did Bradley. He joined you in the kitchen, leaning against the counter and sparking up conversation as you ate breakfast. It was then that you remembered he’d be leaving in a mere two days.
“I was thinking we could take a little ride to the beach today.” He spoke up. “Then we can come back and make dinner— and I should probably start packing my stuff.”
“Promise you’re coming back?”
“One week and I’ll be back on a plane home to you.” He leaned forward to steal a kiss. “I promise.”
“I’m sorry you have to make so many changes.”
“Nope, don’t you start that. Transferring is my decision.” He stopped you. “Listen, i’m gonna be back here in a week.” He reiterated, gripping your shoulders. “And you and me are going to figure this out day by day. This is where I want to be.”
“You’re sure?” You frowned.
“Yes honey, I’m sure.” He chuckled. “Stop beating yourself up, please.”
“Sorry, it’s a habit.” You half smiled.
He pulled you into a hug, pressing a kiss to the top of your head and playfully grabbing a handful of ass, earning a little squeal from you.
“I can’t wait to have another baby with you.”
You threw your head back laughing, pulling away from him and hearing him let out an adorable sounding laugh as well.
“Oh, shut up.” You headed down the hall, cheeks a bright shade of red.
“—‘S the truth!”
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Pregnancy Headcannons - Simon Basset
• Far from happy when you told him
• He had tried really hard so you wouldn't get pregnant
• "No, no, no, we were careful. I-I-I..."
• It was a complete accident
• He was furious
• His temper got the better of him and he blamed you
• Stormed off
• He went to the bar and drank the day away
• But he refused to abandon his child like his father did
• Simon was distant and unhappy but promised to raise this child
• He knew he was harsh but he made it clear this was a mistake...your "first and only child"
• Simon told Lady Danbury through gritted teeth
• "We're in a bit of a predicament...she's with child."
• He told you he didn't care about the gender at all
• "I don't care what the bloody child is, as long as they aren't a brat."
• Deep down though he wanted a girl, in hopes of destroying the Hastings name
• Simon's icy facade started to melt when your bump starting showing
• He was only human after all
• The sight of the woman he loves glowing with love and happiness was almost too much for him
• It made him want to go back on everything he ever said and have as many children as possible with you
• It was no longer possible for him to distance himself from you
• He would run to your aid when you tried to lift something heavy
• Or make sure the maids were getting you enough water, vitamins, and drinks
• Started listening in on your doctor check ups, which he'd previously ignored
• Simon rarely touched your bump
• Even with Simon warming up to the idea of your pregnancy he still made it clear he would support this child, but you'd never carry another
• That was until you were about 5 months pregnant
• One night you and Simon were out at some dinner you forced him to go to. He had been grumpy the whole night, so you went outside at one moment to avoid his attitude. Your outfit was a fairly nice one with some nice jewelry, which some drunk man across the road had realized, so he lunged at you, hoping to grab your necklace. You screamed and before you knew it the man was knocked to the ground Simon gripping your shaking frame. You sobbed and sobbed, so Simon called the carriage and you made your way home. It occurred to Simon how out of hand the situation could've gotten. And for the first time Simon's shaky hands rested protectively over your bump the rest of the ride home.
• "It's okay, y-you're okay. I'm here, I'll keep your safe...b-both of you."
• That night after you'd finally calmed down he broke down
• "I could've lost you both. I'm the luckiest man on earth. A child with the woman I love and I've been a complete dick."
• He knew he couldn't make up for the way he acted the last few months, so he told you he wanted to be as involved as you'd let him be
• Simon opened up to you and explained why he'd been so upset about the pregnancy
• Of course you forgave him, after that the two of you really began life as a growing family
• Simon constantly had a protective arm wrapped around your bump
• "Your mother says you can hear me. Personally, I don't believe her but I'd like to live long enough to meet you, so I won't argue. Well, um, hello I suppose. I-I, um, love you."
• The first time your baby kicked was when he was "pointlessly" taking to them
• He had been rambling in a bored voice, but he perked up immediately after the kick
• "Can you hear me! (Y/n), I'm not necessarily saying you're right but maybe they can hear me."
• He talked to the baby a lot more after that
• Simon didn't make you go to any balls
• He didn't like them and you got tired after staying on your feet too long
• You still threw a party at the end of the season because Simon is a duke after all
• Simon hates parties but he loves you so much he did most of the set-up so you could rest
• When you went into labor Simon was calm and collected
• Simon almost choked the doctor when they told him he should wait outside
• He let you squeeze the life out of his hand
• When cries filled the room his face was a mixture of complete joy and fear
• It was a boy
• You could tell that rattle him a little but he was happy nonetheless
• "Hello." Simon looked at the child awkwardly. "I'm your father." The baby cuddled closer to Simon and he seemed to relax. "You have nothing to worry about. I'll always keep you safe, and I'll never leave you. I would never leave my son."
Office Affairs (m)
Summary: When Mark gets a job at a multimillionaire company, he finds out that there’s more than meets the eye about the new CEO. Not only is she incredibly rich, super talented in bed, and insanely hot… she’s also engaged to someone else.
Pairing: Secretary!Mark Lee x Boss!Reader
Genre: Office AU + Cheating AU/ Angst/ Fluff/ Smut
Word Count: 19.6k (this was only supposed to be 10k, but I let my thirst get the best of me rip)
Warnings: Cheating, descriptive smut, Dom!Mark, Sub!Reader, slight degradation, unprotected sex, slight bondage of Mark binding Reader’s wrists with his tie, mentions of daddy kink but is never actually used
A/N: I’ve always wanted my first fic to be something that is interesting to me, so here we are! I looked up most of the business terms mentioned, but if they’re wrong, please ignore them because I tried my best. I hope you enjoy reading this, because I definitely enjoyed writing it ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
Keep reading
The Needs of Pain (part 2)
A/n since y’all liked part one!!
… i think i could make a part 3?? we’ll see lol
This is the LONGEST thing i’ve written on here wow,, and the smuttiest
Warnings: teasing, oral, unprotected sex (pls this is my first time writing full smut be gentle lol)
–
Exhaustion is an odd result of pain. I didn’t think I was that tired after the burn. I certainly didn’t feel sleepy while Kirigan cleaned my shoulder and brushed his soft lips and sharp teeth along my neck to distract me from the pain. Why am I even thinking of that? Of the way his breath felt against my skin, the way his tongue soothed any bites he left against my skin. I breathe out flatly.
Stop thinking of him. Stop thinking of him in that context–that’s why he did it. He enjoys getting under people’s skin, that’s why he’s always insulting the way I see the world. My hand reaches to my neck, touching my skin where I can still feel his lips on my skin, tracing the faint marks I had seen in the bathroom mirror.
I should have asked the healer to get rid of them before they fully formed, but the thought of showing them to anyone was too embarrassing to bear. I force my hand away, dropping it onto my pillow.
He had acted so strange today, he had been so blunt. It was a tactic. He wants to be in my head and I’m giving him what he wants. I sigh, rolling over and pulling my duvet further up my body. It’s too hot for this. Ugh. I kick the duvet off of my legs, letting my nightgown wrinkle up my body. Strong hands could pull the fabric up in a similar, yet much more euphoric way.
No. Who’s thoughts are these? The fact that I picture the same hands that dabbed at my burn earlier today has me questioning my sanity. I can’t sleep like this. Kirigan wanted to be in my head and now he is. Damn him. I can’t stand him which means I can never have him.
Desire has nothing to do with tolerance. The thought leaves my face warm and stomach twisted.
I sit up sharply, sliding out of bed tiredly. I’ll get some air and everything will be fine. The moon will clear my mind.
The Little Palace is strangely twisting at night, all long shadows and yellow lantern light. I slip out of my room quickly, but my thoughts are not immediately banished with the change of scenery. I must be ill. Infection must have set in regardless of my efforts and the healer sealed it beneath my skin and now it’s impacting me. Fever. I’m delusional with fever.
“I didn’t take you the kind for a late night trist.”
His voice leaves the hairs on the back of my neck standing like soldiers at attention. I manifested him the same way people manifest the devil. “Air.” My defense is childish. “I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d get some air.”
The sound of even footsteps leaves me frozen in place. “What keeps someone like you awake?” It’s like he can read through me. “Thoughts of me?”
He can never know. “Obviously.”
My sarcasm doesn’t go unnoticed, he lets out an almost humored breath. “Or perhaps it’s pain.”
The comment is so confusing I almost don’t realize he’s bringing up my shoulder injury. How had I let him see me so vulnerable? Why did he seem somewhat concerned in his own way?
“My shoulder’s perfectly fine.” Good. A normal direction for this conversation to head. “It took the Healer all of two minutes.”
The touch on my shoulder is so sudden I almost jump. Kirigan doesn’t shy away at that, fingers firmly brushing down the skin. “It feels the same.”
I could scream. His strange observation means nothing to me, but the implication is enough to drive me mad. The implication that he knows my skin well enough to be able to judge whether the healed skin feels different is sickening. I’m tired of this.
I turn on my heels, all of my tiredness and irritation twisting in me. “Even if it didn’t, it’s none of your concern.”
“I didn’t realize you were extra irritable when you’re tired.”
Every conversation with him leaves me feeling petulant. “I’m not tired.” I cross my arms, keep my expression set. “I just–I wanted to get some air.”
“Hm.” He takes a step forward, preparing to close the small distance I’d managed to create between us. “And why is that?”
The question leaves me irritated in an odd way. A flat way. There’s a narcissistic entitlement in that question. An entitlement to my thoughts. I shrug. “I hoped it’d make me tired.”
Kirigan draws his eyebrows together, curiosity and something resembling amusement playing at his expression. “If you’d like to be tired, I think I know a few ways to be of assistance.”
A faint, aggravating warmth comes to my face. Not only did my lie earn me a ridiculous innuendo, it’s also trapped me in a corner I cannot escape. Healing from the burn had left me pathetically drowsy. There’s no way he can’t see through me, a tired haze has to be visible on my face. My eyelids feel weighted and I’m too distracted by my deep longing for sleep to hold onto irritation.
“I’m sure I’ll manage on my own.” The words are not meant to be a challenge, just a way to dismiss him. I don’t think he takes them that way.
He draws his eyebrows together, eyes threatening to lose that curious quality. Kirigan steps forward, I step back blankly, desperate to keep enough distance to keep what’s left of my wits about me. He ignores my reaction, taking another step forward. I take another step back. My back touches the wall. I am a mouse and he’s an excited cat.
“You don’t have to,” his voice is too low, too intimate, “I’m not sure that’s something you want to understand.”
My chin raises just slightly, a silent protest. “Dependency is a fatal flaw.”
“So is desire,” his reply is much too quick. “Desire is worse, because one can resist dependency based on pride…but desire, that is something that one sacrifices for.”
Maybe if I was less tired I’d bother to interpret his words a little more. But all I can focus on is his tone–the quality of it. “You sound heavy.” My voice is as light as the night breeze I was craving moments ago. “But you always sound heavy.” It’s the wistful observation of someone slowly disappearing. “At least you’re pretty,” I muse, falling more and more distant by the second.
Something soft breaks across his features, his lips quirking. “Pretty?”
I rest my back against the wall comfortably, eyes shutting without permission. “I’m sure I’ll regret that comment in a moment.”
He stays silent, but his presence does not disappear. I can’t tell if I’m glad for it. The warm touch on my shoulder startles me out of my drowsy trance. Panic has me ready to jump off the wall, but Kirigan brushes his thumb up and down my shoulder. His touch sets any skin that comes in contact with him aflame. I shouldn’t find the gesture so comforting. My eyes flutter shut again, my body relaxing against the wall. When my protest dies out before it begins, Kirigan shifts closer. I’m confused, but too at peace to answer. Something velvety and warm brushes against my collar. Soft and warm and electric. He’s kissing my skin again.
My lips part in hopes of arguing, but when his teeth graze the skin he already marked earlier I’m gone. My eyes shut again, but this time it’s different. Pleasure and drowsiness clear me of all inhibitions as his touch becomes more and more assured. I let him test me, his mouth moving against any and all exposed skin. I don’t even stop him when I feel his hands graze the hem of my nightgown, wrinkling it the way I imagined earlier.
“Kirigan.” I need to find my strength, but what’s the point of strength when his touch leaves me so warm? The only acknowledgement of my protest he offers me is the lingering squeeze of my thigh before his long fingers begin to graze towards the inside of my thighs. I have no choice but to let his lips brush up my neck, his teeth grazing my skin the way they did earlier today. “Kirigan.” I try to sound firmer, but he destroys the rest of my sentence before I have the chance to get it out. His teeth nip the base of my neck, ruining my protest for a second time.
Maybe if I was less tired I’d be able to fight him off a little better, but I’m so drowsy I had trouble thinking before he started touching me. My eyes shut in both bliss and exhaustion. His thumb presses into my hip. Something in me stalls as his fingers brush the hem of my underwear–testing me, challenging me. I open my eyes on instinct, but he remains unbothered, slipping his thumb beneath the only fabric that divides us in order to better grip my hip.
I stiffen because of how badly I want to melt. This is bad. This is insane. We’re in a hallway in the middle of the night and he’s General Kirigan. Whatever attraction I feel is another tactic to manipulate me.
“We need to stop.” The command is weak, my voice as dry as my resolve.
He angles his head in order to regard me a little better. His expression is one of mock confusion as he smirks. Actually smirks. “Stop what?” False innocence drips from his voice as he leans towards me, expression amused as his lips near my own. “I haven’t even started yet.” My eyes widen, something that amuses him. “Y/n?”
I’m left on edge. I’m left wanting. My lips part flatly, but words feel so distant. “Yes?”
“What happened earlier?” His voice is the kind of sinful that’s meant to coax. Kirigan brushes his thumb across my shoulder, eyes watching mine cautiously. “How did you get burned?”
I push against the sultry quality of his voice. “I told you–an accident.”
“Hm.” His eyebrows draw together in a surprisingly soft way. I stare at him freely, but he ignores my gaze, eyes locked on my newly healed skin. Is he truly that concerned? “Whose accident?”
I swallow once. “My own.” He still isn’t looking at me. “I’m not exactly the most coordinated person, you’ve witnessed my clumsiness yourself.”
Kirigan is not convinced. Perhaps he will never fully buy my partial lie. His grip on me hardens. Restraint. I may not be able to win against his paranoia, but I might be able to distract him. Cautiously, I move one hand forward, touching the hand that’s on my shoulder. I hesitate. Touching him without prompting almost feels too intimate. I’m being ridiculous. I brush my fingers against the back of his palm, letting my touch trail up his forearm.
“Y/n.” My name borders on a warning.
I suppress a smile, playing into my sleepiness as I tilt my head to the side. “Yes?”
He doesn’t reply, expression tightening as my hand snares around his wrist, pulling it off my shoulder with more care than I thought myself capable of. The intensity of his gaze is enough to burn me. I turn my full attention to his hand. I’d never admit this out loud, but this isn’t the first time I’ve thought about how objectively attractive his hands are. I kiss each of his knuckles slowly, brushing my lips against his skin tentatively.
To my surprise, he allows my indulgence. I glance at him through my lashes. Kirigan’s eyes are shut, expression bordering on pained. “Kirigan?”
He opens his eyes but his expression does not ease. His other hand leaves my thigh, grabbing the low collar of my nightgown with such a fierce speed it takes me a second to realize what’s happening. He pulls me away from the wall in a way that borders on violent.
“I don’t know who you’re protecting, but I guarantee you they’re not worth it.” The words are acidic. He’s seething. “I grow tired of your resistance.”
If he hadn’t transformed into something so untamed, I might have had enough gall to tell him I grow tired of being toyed with. I say nothing, instead I take in the abrasiveness of his anger, the tension of his grip on the thin fabric that clothes me. I am unflinching in my assessment in the most tired way possible, eyes struggling not to shut and body desperate to rest, but even more desperate for him. His eyes stare into mine, searching for something I am too far gone to offer. He must realize my sleepiness is genuine because he soon drops his gaze, taking his time in analyzing the even rise and fall of my chest as well as the hint of cleavage his grip on my nightgown is exposing. Pure heat finds itself in my face, chest, and worst of all—core. His staring lacks any shame.
Kirigan parts his lips as if to speak but then instead takes a moment to lick them. The thought of his tongue in relation to lips only makes the burning in me worse. It’s practically an ache. A needy one.
“I grow weary of your lack of understanding.”
Understanding? “What is there to understand?”
His head angles itself to one side but he doesn’t meet my gaze. The hold he has on me loosens just enough so that his hold on me is no longer taut. That should not disappoint me the way it does. I wait patiently, ignoring the bundle of unexplained nerves in my stomach as best as I can. Something strange colors his features when he finally looks at me again, something almost vulnerable.
“I brought you here.” He sounds farther from me than ever. “I…” His exhale is gentle, but his expression is quick to harden. “Who are you so willing to protect?”
I must be really tired because his voice sounds like it borders on heart ache. If I didn’t fear Arthur’s safety I’d tell Kirigan everything if it meant his pain would dissipate. I never thought Kirigan’s potential pain would bother me, but now that I’ve seen him look stricken by something so weighted–now that I’ve seen the way he wears pain–I don’t want to be the one to give him that. I want to be the one to give him some kind of sanctuary. The thought leaves me with a desire to flea.
“Will you just believe me when I say it’s no one?” In a way that’s the truth. Arthur is not particularly significant unless you’re a young Grisha female with a desire for heart ache. “No one worth mentioning at least.”
He’s quick to retighten his hold on my nightgown, leaving the fabric taut and more of me exposed. “You being desperate to protect them makes them worth interest.” A different response than I expected.
My lips thin. “Only because it was a small accident. They don’t deserve to be punished over the briefest loss of focus.”
I take his silence as an indicator that he is considering my words. His free hand finds my shoulder as he pulls me even closer to him by the fabric he’s gripping. “And if I were to revoke the threat of punishment?” His voice is the definition of temptation, low and promising and coddling me with its sinfulness. I still as Kirigan leans forward so that his lips are practically on my ear. “Then would you tell me? If I released you from the binds of your nobility?” My lips part but I have no words prepared. Before I can think of what to say, his lips graze the side of my jaw before his teeth nip at the end of my ear. “Tell me just to humor me.”
The command doesn’t make sense to me, but from his lips it feels important. “You won’t hurt them for what happened?”
His voice seems rougher than before, “Would that make a difference?”
“It would make all the difference.” I don’t like the honesty of my words.
Kirigan allows one hand to trail down my waist–a gesture I consider obscenely intimate when paired with the soft brush of his lips on my collar. “I already know who.” His voice is a dark hum. “I was always going to know one way or another–but it’s good to know you would have told me.”
My stomach lurches, dread pouring into me like tar. Before fear can force me to take action, Kirigan begins to leave open mouth kisses from the top of my jaw to the bottom of my neck, taking his time to assault any spot of skin with his tongue that he wants. This reminds me too much of earlier–touches meant to distract from pain with the use of pleasure.
“Are you–” His mouth is now on my collar, threatening to destroy my question. “Are you going to hurt him?”
At that Kirigan straightens. The sudden lack of contact leaves me cold. I shouldn’t be thinking of him. Of his touch. “I’m curious,” he draws out each syllable, delighting in my nerves, “Would you bear his punishment?”
I’m not sure. I hate that. I haven’t known Arthur for that long, and while he’s kind, he also seems to see all women as replaceable. That isn’t reason for him to endure Kirigan’s punishment but I don’t know him well enough to just blindly agree to that. I loathe myself for not being noble enough to take Arthur’s punishment instantly.
“What kind of punishment?”
Kirigan’s expression twists into a greedy smile. He pushes me back easily, pressing me into the wall with more confidence than ever. I’m silent in my confusion until he presses himself against me and I feel something hard and bulging press into where I’m neediest. I stifle a gasp of surprise and something similar to pleasure. “I’m sure I could think of something for you.” I’d care more about my confusion if hot need wasn’t flooding my thoughts and my body with undeniable desperation. “I haven’t even spoken to him.” I exhale, untrusting relief desperate to escape me. Kirigan is quick to lean forward, lips brushing my ear as he prepares to whisper. “I’m more likely to harm him because he has your favor than anything else.”
Warmth burns my face. “He doesn’t–he’s not exactly the one that holds my favor.”
The heat of his breath adds to my burning as he presses his bulge into my core again. “And who does?”
I’m not sure what he considers favor, but if it has anything to do with wanting he wins. But he can never know that. “There are some contenders, but no one yet.”
His hand moves off my hip and nears my throat. “Would it be too bold to assume I’m on the short list?”
He’s two steps away from taking me in an open hallway, I doubt he finds much bold. “Do you want to be?”
Kirigan’s hand tightens on my throat. “I’ve made it clear from the beginning what I want.” His words are lethal and each syllable has him restricting my airflow a little more. Something in me must be broken because my neediness only worsens. “I brought you here because I see all that you could be. Forget being a Saint, we could be gods.” The sentiment is so raw it’s almost harder to bear than his tight grip on my neck. He leans close again, his scent only adding to my budding lightheadedness. “Say the word, and I could have you praising me like I’m already a god.” My stomach knots in both nerves and insatiable hunger. “Though I’m the one that would be doing the worshipping.”
My resolve is shattered, leaving me broken and twisting. He releases his hold on my neck in order to move his hand beneath my chin. There is nothing gentle about the way he jerks my head forward, forcing me to look into his eyes. Something about the look he gives me has me melting. His eyes are searching for something in me.
He must find whatever he’s looking for because I feel his touch against my heat, fingers pressing against fabric. I bite my lip on instinct, suppressing the sound of my undoing. Kirigan’s eyes never leave mine as the hand on my chin moves to brush against my bottom lip.
“I can only give you what you want if you tell me what that is.”
He exhales slowly, pressing his thumb against my lip downwards. My mouth parts on instinct, something that he takes well. His thumb enters my mouth slowly, taking in my reaction as I taste his skin on my tongue. Kirigan pulls his thumb away from my tongue slowly, a thin string of saliva connecting him to my mouth. With one swift tug, his free hand pulls the only fabric separating him from where I want him most down my thighs. His expression reveals nothing as his thumb, still wet with my saliva, is pressed against my core. His touch teases my clit, just barely brushing where I need him most. The whine that escapes me is so desperate I’m ashamed I can’t help it.
“So wet already,” his appraisal is gentle, the praise whispered against my throat as his lips brush against my neck. “So wet, so needy that you’d let me take you in this hallway and I’ve hardly touched you.” His finger presses further into me. I let out another pathetic breath. “A pity, someone like you–so painfully under cared for.” I’m reduced to nothing by his words and touch. “What I’d give to undue you here, against the wall–I’d have you crying so loudly everyone would know that I’ve claimed you, that I’ve made you mine.” Before I can reflect on his words, he steps back, pulling my underwear back up as quickly as he yanked it down.
I let out an instinctual whine. My hand moves to his arm, grabbing him like he’s the only thing keeping me tethered to the earth. “What–”
Kirigan squeezes my hand, a predator’s smile on his lips. “I want to feel all of you,” his hand squeezes my hip, “I can’t exactly do that against a wall, dove of mine,” he leans forward, lips brushing against my jaw in a way that leaves me chilled and melting at the same time, “At least not the first time.”
His whisper forces my breathing to hitch, a fact that he notices with an amused look as his thumb brushes against my collar. Kirigan pulls me away from the wall easily. Even the causal touch feels electric against my skin.
The walk towards my room is tense, his hands never leaving me as if he’s aware of how necessary it is to keep me distracted to ward off my better sense. When we reach my door, Kirigan opens it like it’s his. Entitled. Typical.
I step into the room, his touch lingering on my arm. A brief shyness pushes itself into my chest. I had let Kirigan touch me in a public space and lead me back to my room. The door closes. I don’t turn.
Kirigan’s hand squeezes my shoulder. “Shy, now?” His question is teasing, rekindling the fire beneath my skin as he places an open mouth kiss on my neck. He plays with the thin strap of my nightgown, pushing it off my shoulder. He kisses down my neck, collarbone, and shoulder. My inhibitions are melted away again. “When your breathing stalls like that,” his whisper is enough to elicit a desperate shudder, “I am left desperate.”
He leans forward, mouth trailing down my chest, coming dangerously close to my breasts. The electric current of his touch is all consuming and addicting. I press my back into his chest. His hands are the opposite of shy, touching me everywhere except where I’m most desperate. Kirigan’s hand places itself between my thighs, using his thumb to tease my entrance. I let out a needy sound. And then he retracts his hand, grabbing my shoulders and turning me in one swift motion.
“Kirigan.”
His eyes are dark, clouded by something I don’t understand but am too aware that I reciprocate. “Tell me that I have your favor.” His words are taut, bordering on snapping. Kirigan’s grip on me tightens hard enough to bruise, an assertive need taking over him. “That you want me.”
Desire, pride, and rationality twist in my stomach, leaving me too distracted to form words. My gaze drops to the ground on instinct, something Kirigan clearly finds unacceptable because he’s quick to grab my chin and force my eyes to meet his.
I swallow once, courage withering beneath the look in his eyes. It’s as twisted as a spindling shadow, but the look is fierce admirational, appreciation so deep I could drown in it. It scares and consols me all at once. “I want you.” There’s something pained about such powerful emotion. I loathe and am empowered by it all at once. “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything.” The words leave my throat scorching with their sincerity.
As soon as the words leave me, he’s closing the distance between us, the slightest exhale of tension leaving his lips before they meet mine, prepared to devour me. I reciprocate his actions on instinct alone. There is no hesitation, no space, and yet it is not enough. Not enough and yet I don’t know how to be closer. But Kirigan does. One of his hands cup my cheek, coaxing me towards him as if I could possibly have the will to leave him. He steps forward, guiding me to step back. I obey fluidly until I feel something hit the back of my legs. It’d startle me if I wasn’t so consumed by his touch.
His mouth begins to move away from my skin. I chase after him, desperate to keep him touching me. He stops me by placing a hand on my shoulder, a warning about my neediness. I pout, but as he studies me I pant. Maybe the excuse for air was a good idea. I don’t fight the uneasiness of my breathing as I hold Kirigan’s gaze. He regards me with a patience I consider unbearable, taking in the determined look in his eyes, my swollen lips, disheveled hair, and the top of my night gown that’s half falling off.
It’s in this moment I realize how much more vulnerable than him I am.
If Kirigan notices any shift in me, he doesn’t mention it. Instead, he adjusts his hand on my cheek, his thumb brushing the hot skin gently. “You are everything.” His voice is cracking glass. “Everything that’s good, at least.”
Maybe he did notice my initial reaction because I am no longer certain that I am the one that’s most vulnerable. “You’re better than you think.” I only say this because it would only weigh on me more to stay silent. “I see it and you don’t want me to.”
His hand continues to stroke my cheek. “I want you to see all of me.” The heavy beating of my heart seems to stall in my chest. Kirigan drops his hand before grasping the hem of my nightgown. He pulls the fabric upwards easily, bundling the fabric above my hip. “I want you to…” He exhales flatly, pulling the fabric upwards even more. Nerves flood my stomach as he leans towards me, kissing down my jaw. “To know me,” he whispers against my throat.
I am nothing but uneven breaths as he mouth moves down my chest, stalling only once he’s reached my breasts. He pushes me forward easily, guiding me so that I’m laying on my bed. He’s quick to move over me, kissing up my neck as he adjusts so that I’m against the headboard.
When he pulls away again, I’m left pouting. He grins, fueled by my disappointment. “Don’t worry,” he breathes, fingers hooking around the waistband of my underwear before tugging it down my legs easily, “I’m nowhere near done with you yet.”
Being so exposed has my doubts flooding back, but Kirigan is quick to fight against my instincts in a way only he seems capable of. He squeezes the inside of my upper thigh before leaning down, pressing his mouth onto the skin his fingers just touched. His kisses here are meant to leave me even more desperate, each nip and fleeting pass of his tongue is lazy yet intentional. I am incapable of doing else besides letting out pathetic whines.
He ignores where I need him most, kissing up my thigh, across my lower stomach, and then down my other thigh. Kirigan continues the pattern across my skin, ignoring any pleas I swallow my pride to give. He is not rushed by my words or cries or the occasional desperate adjustment of my hips.
Kirigan lifts his head slightly, releasing my inner thigh with an obscene ‘pop’. “Patience.” His fingers trail up my thigh and over my core, teasing my entrance with his lithe fingers. “Unless you’re ready to beg?”
It’s a challenge, like everything else. The urge to give him my pride to satisfy the electric desire I’m not sure I’m capable of bearing. But then I note his tense hold on my thigh. A sign of restraint, of want.
“And if I want you to beg for me?” I don’t know where the words come from, but they charge the room with potential.
Something strange crosses his fingers before his lips tilt upwards in a dark way. “Would you like the strength of that? To have someone like me powerless before you?” My face warms. Kirigan leaves a lingering kiss on my thigh before he moves off the bed. I sigh at the loss of contact, but my tired neediness stalls at the sound of his belt coming undone. “I want to see you on your knees.” I sit up carelessly, desperate to obey him. I’m kneeling in front of him in an instant, taking in his length. The size of it has me gaping. “Open your mouth.”
I take the order more eagerly than I should, but I make no move to take him. This is just another challenge. I keep my eyes on his as I stick my tongue out before licking the bottom of his member all the way up to his tip. The sound he lets out is pure sin. I lick his tip slowly, each motion of my tongue is strategic as I finally place him in my mouth. I hollow my cheeks, moving up and down slowly.
The pace is not enough for him, he grips my hair from my scalp as he thrusts into my mouth. The motion is more powerful than I expected and I am left unable to breathe. My slight gag does the opposite of discourage him, he repeats the motion again and again, pushing himself into me until I can feel him in my throat.
The sounds he lets out are a chorus to me, but it’s not enough. I need more control, I need a way to make him beg. I raise a hand, wrapping it around the base that I cannot fit into my mouth. I stroke him once slowly, making a point as I try to push myself back in order to make him want me more.
He groans again. I make a point of pushing myself off of him. Precum protrudes his tip. I lick it off of him slowly. I lick up and down his member in the smallest way possible.
“Y/n,” the restraint in his voice fuels my teasing, “Tease me and you’ll still be overwhelmed by want when the sun rises.”
A pout tugs at my lips before I open my mouth again, taking Kirigan to my limit. He lets me set the pace of my bobs at first, but then he becomes desperate, holding me in place by the roots of my hair as he moans and thrusts into me without restraint. He ignores my choking as he continues until he throws his head back, letting out a quick praise of my name.
He finishes in my mouth and I swallow all he offers me greedly. I back off my knees slowly, throat burning as his member leaves my mouth. “On the bed.” He’s turned into something insatiable. “Now.”
I move back to my bed, laying in the same position as before. He takes his time approaching me. When he finally gets to me, he kisses my thighs easily. I let out a small breath before something that’s pure pleasure meets my core. His tongue laps upwards lazily, grazing my clit but not quite touching it. My hips thrust towards his face, but with hand he holds me down. A coil in my stomach continues to build as he angles himself more purposefully, tongue finally taking care of my clit. My gasps become less and less reasonable as he continues to lap at all that my body has to offer. The coil tightens, I see stars–and then, like cruelty personified, he pulls away. His absence leaves me ready to cry out.
My desperation only fuels Kirigan as he lines himself with my entrance. Concern twists my stomach as I consider how full my mouth felt when he was in me. I expect some level of warning, but he thrusts into me with no warning. I let out a pathetic cry, but that means nothing to him as he pulls out just to thrust into me with full force again.
“Only I can hurt you,” he demands, thrusting into me as I call out his name. My eyes water at the sensation of such fullness, pleasure and pain combining themselves in a way that leaves me incapable of thought. “Your tears,” he muses, one hand moving to wipe at a tear rolling down my cheek, “Are mine.”
His thrusts become more and more brutal, less and less even. Each movement of his body in mine leaves me begging for more and less at the same time. He continues until the coil in my stomach tenses to the point of breaking.
“Kirigan,” I manage, voice far away, “I’m going t–”
“I know,” he offers, “finish with me, dove.” His hand finds my throat, adding the slightest bit of restrained pressure. “And do not hold in your cries.”
Two more sharp thrusts have us both finishing, calling out for each other as we try to draw out the high of our orgasms together.
We stay intertwined like that for longer than we should, but then Kirigan stands. I envy his ability to do so. I don’t call for him even though I still don’t want to be alone here. A moment later, I hear him approach. I’m too drowsy to ask what he’s doing as a damp towel is wiped against my forehead and inner thighs.
When he’s finished cleaning me, some raw emotion settles in my chest. “Are you leaving?”
Kirigan hesitates. “Not if you don’t want me to.”
I roll over, the motion leaves my body aching. Kirigan accepts my invitation, crawling beneath my sheets and adjusting our bodies so that he can rest his hand on my back.
–
Tags: @luminous-99 @voyevoda-thejoy @voidmalfoy
@i-padfootblack-things
@all-art-is-quite-useless @buckverse @mandowh0re @benbarnes-supremacy
@we-love-our-bandz @fire-in-her-veinz @weirdowithnobeardo @bvudzsoo @kaque @ponyboys-sunsets @coldlilheart @granillx @dreamohlittledreamofme @sanna2020 @zaynzierulez
@ive-died-everday-waiting-for-you @xxaerynxx @ralesera @tea-effect
@tranquillitymoon
The Price Of Love (M)
Idol!Taehyung x Ex-Girlfriend!Reader
WordCount: 8.1k
Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff, Exes To Lovers!AU
Warnings: Marking, Cunnilingus, Body Worship, Belly Worship, Fingering, Praise, Squirting, Fellatio, Degradation (Slut), Big Dick!Taehyung, Slight Dom!Taehyung, Face Fucking, Cum Swallowing, Pregnant Sex, Crying During Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Doggy Style, Spanking, Possessive!Taehyung, Cream Pie
A/N: I’ve had this in the WIPs for a few weeks and I’ve slowly but surely added to it until I got it to where I liked it. @xjoonchildx, @ladyartemesia and @ppersonna heard all my bitching and moaning about it giving me a headache because I wanted it to feel right and real. So thanks to the forever squad for listening to my bitching! Enjoy!
“We can’t keep doing this."
Those five words had stuck the fear of God into your boyfriend’s heart as he sits across the hotel room with a glass of wine in hand. His hand falters, red wine sloshing around the glass before he widens his eyes at you.
"Excuse me? What?” He asks feebly as you avert your eyes from his handsome face.
“This. Us. We can’t keep doing this like it’ll work out.” You say, bile rising in your throat at the words you choke out.
He opens his mouth in shock before setting down his wine glass. “No. No! I don’t understand! We’re fine!” He mumbles to himself before standing up.
You shy away from his touch as he crosses the bedroom to you. Your eyes are trained on the floor as you hear him whimper. His large hand falls to your thigh and you furrow your eyebrows before standing.
“Is it because of me spending time on the Weverse app or… I’ve been playing too many games with fans because I can-”
Your eyes flit to his, a cold stare shot at him cutting him off. “Kim Taehyung, I would never ask you to stop interacting with your fans. Are you kidding me?” You bark out at him before scoffing and grabbing your bag.
“Y/N. Please. There must be something I can do to make you stay. We’ve been together for two years… Tell me, I’ll fix it.” His voice is wrought with agony and you tense up hearing a sob rip through his throat.
“There’s nothing to fix. We’re done. I’m sorry.” You tell him before grabbing your toiletries from the bathroom. You hear him shuffling behind you, sobbing and destroyed. You can’t seem to turn around before glancing at him through the mirror. You’ve broken the most handsome man in the entire universe.
“I’ll do anything. I’ll-I’ll leave tour more and fly to see you. Y/N please. We can get married like we’ve always talked about. Anything-I’ll-” You zipper up your bag before closing your eyes. You want to cry, scream, kiss him- anything and everything. But, you did this and you have to go through with it. There’s nothing worse than this. And, you still have to do it. “Bye, Tae.”
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Homecoming (M)
Pairing: NCT Johnny ♡ Female!Reader
Description: When a high school reunion drags you back from the bustling city to your hometown, you can’t help but feel inadequate compared your friends’ settled lives, who have thing you want most— kids. You may get your most desperate wish when your long-lost best friend sweeps into town, not quite the introverted nerd he was from 10 years ago.
Genre: high school reunion au smut | romance WC: 16k Warnings: graphic smut (Dom! Johnny + Sub! Reader, dirty talk, !!!pregnancy kink!!!, unprotected sex, oral sex, rough sex, bulge kink, slight exhibitionism, footsie, slight cum eating, overstimulation), mentions of adultery
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Imagine Din Djarin finding you asleep with Grogu.
i just wanna nap with grogu. this whole thing is entirely self indulgent, sue me. written by: archie
He emerged from the refresher after an hour, body and beskar finally squeaky clean. Sand was always too good at getting inside his armour, and after being swallowed whole by the krayt dragon outside Mos Pelgo, he knew he’d stunk of stomach acids and monster’s insides. As soon as the Crest was in hyperspace, he’d excused himself away to save both you and the Child from living with scrunched noses.
He felt much better now as he climbed up the hatch into the cabin, only to be met with a sight that brought out surprising warmth in his chest.
There you were, curled up in the Crest’s passenger seat, fast asleep. Your boots on the edge of the seat and knees drawn to point at the roof. With a stray blanket draped over your form and head bowed as you dozed, you’d never looked so cosy.
He stayed quiet and turned to the other seat to check on the Child, too- But he wasn’t there.
His brows furrowed behind his helmet. He glanced around, wondering if he was hanging by his feet like he so often was, but no. He was nowhere.
A gloved hand reached out to your sleeping from, about to shake your shoulder to ask, but-!
A soft gurgle. A twitch beneath the blanket over your chest.
The building panic melted away like it’d never existed.
He stepped in close and took the corner of the blanket, lifting it ever so carefully to not disturb either of you… And was greeted by a sight that brought surprising warmth to his chest.
His troublesome green blob was bundled safely in your arms, eyes closed and ears flopped against the fabric of your shirt. His head was nestled into your chest as soft babbles and gurgles spilled from his mouth, a little thread of drool attaching him to your shirt. It left a tiny patch of wetness that was uncommonly cute. He’d never looked so peaceful, Din mused.
He raised his eyes to your face. Peaceful, tired. It was clear you loved the Child like he was your own. With that, Din trusted you like no other.
In a pure moment of affection, he extended his finger to run a knuckle delicately down the bridge of your nose, then touched lightly on the kid’s hairy head. Each of you shuffled slightly at his touch, but didn’t wake. It was no surprise: he’d put you both through a lot that day.
He smiled to himself and tucked the blanket back the way he’d found it, soon settling into the pilot seat. He leant back and crossed his arms, allowing his eyes to fall closed, too.
With any luck, he’d see the two of you in his dreams.
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