#they can only walk when blood flows to their legs and stiffens them up

[midnight-love-song]

Lads I’m sleeping on the sofa tonight. There’s the biggest spider I’ve ever seen right above my bed, I know I’m being a baby but just look at it

*shudder* yyyuck

#I have such a phobia ok #spiders #I can feel it crawling on my skin #argh send help #you know the worst thing about spiders?? #they can only walk when blood flows to their legs and stiffens them up #so they have leg hard ons every time you see one run #oh my god #so creepy

[girl-of-many-fandoms]

can i pls request some jealous sex with derek shepherd??👀💕 thank u xx

Don’t

Pairing: Derek Shepherd x Reader

Warning: SMUTTY SMUT SMUT‼️ 18+ ONLY‼️ unprotected sex (WRAP IT BEFORE YOU TAP IT!) , jealous Derek, kitchen sex, nipple play (slight), cum play

MASTERLIST

-----

"Get back here!" the front door slammed shut behind your fuming boyfriend as you walked further into your apartment

"Go home Derek!" you spun around on your heels to face the fuming man across the room, finger pointing to the same door that he just entered through

"I've had enough of your shitty behaviour for one night"

"My shitty beha- you're pushing it"

Tonight you both attended a dinner with a few of your co-workers and Derek is so admant that you and his best friend Mark were flirting with each other, which brings you here in your living room

"You and Mark were practically fucking each other with your eyes tonight thinking that I didn't notice but I did!" your blood boiled even further as he continued to accuse you of something that he clearly made up in his head

"You know what, maybe I was fucking Mark in my head because CLEARLY I'm desperate for sex" Derek's face became more red with rage as you spoke

"You know what was going through my mind as he was talking to me, I thought about him shoving me up against the nearest wall and sticking his tongue down my throat while his hands groped my brests or ass" clenching his jaw he gripped onto the back rest of the sofa so hard until his knuckles turned white

"You're crossing a line" at this point you didn't care

"I wanted to know what it felt like to have Mark Sloan fuck me into oblivion, to fuck me so hard that I wouldn't be able to remember my own damn name while I cum all over his cock"

"That's enough" Derek stalked over to you but you held your ground still spewing all the vail things that he so obviously thought was happening in my head

"I wanted him to turn me into a moaning mess, to have me screaming out his name as I orgasm-" you were cut short by Derek's hand wrapping around your throat choking you lightly just how you like it. His once angry demeanor is now overtaken with lust

"I said that's. enough." his breath fanned against your flushed cheeks, you could feel the heat radiating off of his body as he forced you to look into his eyes. You cunt fluttered as he backed you up against the island top

"Let's put that mouth of yours to good use. On your knees" he released your throat and pushed you down to the floor. He quickly undid his pants and his semi-hard cock sprung free from their restraints. You took his cock into your plams, spreading the pre-cum on the head of his cock before spitting on it. Derek grabbed a fist full of your hair and pulled your head back

"No time for games" licking the prominent vein from the underside of his massive cock you couldn't help but smirk at the sounds that came from him and you're bearly even started

Opening your mouth you slowly went down on him, hollowing your cheeks as you sped up. The tip of his cock hit the back of your throat each time and it's time like this where you're thankfull that you don't have a gag reflex.

His grip on your hair tightened as he started taking control, bucking his hips fucking your mouth wildly. Your saliva coated the shaft of his cock and trickled down your chin, making a complete mess. Reaching up you palmed his balls earning a grunt of approval from the Derek. You felt his cock twitch before he shot his load down your throat. He pulled out and you swallowed every last drop, he hoisted you up and bent you over the kitchen counter, raising your dress to revel your bare ass

"No panties" spanking your ass he pressed his cock up against you thrusting between your ass cheeks. Derek raised your leg and placed it on the conter before stooping down to your soaking cunt

His broad tongue lick a broad stripe from your needy hole to your clit while index finger played with your opening before he stuck it in. His lips wrapped around your clit, sucking and licking turning you into a moaning mess

"Derek!" you fisted his curls pulling his face closer to your cunt, grinding down on his face as he hungrily ate you out in the middle of your kitchen

Moaning you gripped onto the cabinet handle tightly, knuckles turning white as you felt your first orgasm of the night build up. Derek sped up the pace, fingertips brushing against that specific spot inside of you. Your eyes folled to the back of your head as you clamped down on his digits as you came. He continued to lap at your juices, moaning at the taste of you on his tongue

He stood up and you were about to straighten up but he held you in place, turning your face to meet his. Lust blown eyes stared into yours briefly as he crashed his lips against yours. You could still taste yourself on his tongue as he explored your mouth. His hips rocked into yours and you moaned feeling his stiffened cock pressed firmly against your ass

Derek started trailing open mouth kisses along your jaw, neck and your exposed shoulder blades, lining himself up with your aching cunt. Digging his fingers into your hips he thrusted his cock into you not giving you any time to adjust before he was pounding into you like his life depended on it

"Fuck!" his cock streatched you out deliciously, the burn turned into pleasure in no time. He nipped at your earlobe, stuble grazing against your skin driving you insane. Derek pushed you flat against the countertop railing you at a better angle, cock hitting against your g-spot with each thrust

His groans became louder as your needy cunt fluttered around him each time he entered you. The sinful sounds of skin slapping against skin mixed with your moans and cries of pleasure echoed throughout your apartment. You were sure your neighbour was hearing eveything right now but you couldn't care less

Reaching behind you, you placed your hand on his abdomen in hopes of slowing his pace but he held your arm against your back, still brutally fucking into you

"Nuh uh, you wanted to be a brat, this is your punishment" your legs started turning into jello as another orgasm flodded your body, this time you felt a gush of hot liquid, smiling at the mess you made you rubbed circles onto your swollen clit as your arousal ran down your leg

"Shit" his hips started stuttering as his cock twitced inside of you, Derek emptied his seed deep inside of you before pulling out. You felt his sticky cum flow out of you and like the tease that you were you dipped you finger into your cunt before bring your fingers up to your lips, slowly sucking them clean

Straighten yourself Derek wasted no time in turning you around before hoisting you onto the counter. Shoving the skirt of your dress above your waist he thrusted into you again, cock still rock hard. He attacked your neck in kisses, teeth grazing against your flesh ever so often as he fucked into you. Derek pulled down the top of your dress exposing your breasts, he pinched your perky nipples and you could've cum right then and there again

"Mhmm Der-" running your hands through his long locks you dragged your nails against his scalp and he grunted in approval, slowing his pace a bit to take your right nipple into his mouth, sucking and flicking his tongue driving you closer to the edge

"You gonna cum again" you wanted too but you were sure that you couldn't. When he didn't get a response he started torturing your clit causing you to cry out

"I-I can't" vision blurry you held onto his forearm body quivering from all the pleasure that you were recieving. Derek spread your legs wider, pulling your hips closer to edge of the counter resuming his animalistic thrusts into your dripping cunt

"You can, one more time for me baby" your eyes were glued to where your bodies connected as felt your orgasm build up. He pressed your foreheads together as you both enjoyed the sight, sinful moans slipped past both your lips

His dick was drenched in your slick, dripping down his heavy balls and onto his trousers. The tip of his cock found that spot again causing your eyes to roll again, toes curling, legs shaking and you knew that it wasn't long before you came again

"Right there" you felt yourself let go and once again you squirted your juices all over him, you were sure you were seeing stars from the intensity of your orgasm. He helped you ride out your high, chasing his own release. With one last thrust into you he buried himself into your cunt, hot cum spilling into you

Taking his face in your hands you pulled him into a steamy kiss as he stayed buried inside of you. Pulling back slightly you couldn't help but release a breathless chuckle

"If this is the type of sex I get from getting you riled up I guess I'll have to do that more often" your voice was hoarse from all the screaming and moaning you did and he lightly thrusted into you and you groaned

"Don't"

#derek shepherd #derek shepherd smut #derek shepherd x reader #derek shepherd x oc #derek shepherd imagine #greys anatomy #greys anatomy imagine #greys anatomy smut

[minteyeddevil]

May I request a Fem!MC with Dirty Doctor!Asmodeus with a clit pumping and overstimulation kink? Fem!MC goes in for their first exam but gets a bit extra? Please 🥰

"Examination"

---

It was her first examination of the year, let alone the first one in the Devildom. MC balled her hands into fists at the hem of the short medical gown, fidgeting against the cold plastic of the examination table she was perched on. Lucifer had told her she would receive the same check up exam as she would in the Human Realm; but it didn’t change the fact that it was still unnerving.

A demon clad in nurse scrubs walked into the room and began asking her questions, per the usual drawl when visiting the doctor, and once done told her the doctor would be in to examine her shortly. She took a shaky breath, swinging her legs to and fro since they were beginning to go numb from dangling off the side of the table. It felt like an eternity before the doctor finally came in; though shock was the first emotion to register for her.

“Asmodeus?”

The Avatar of Lust grinned widely at her, humming in return and closing the door with a click of the lock. “Hello there, my darling! Didn’t expect me to be your doctor for today, did you? Well, it is my turn to perform the examinations today, so here I am!” he spoke cheerfully, adjusting his white coat and stethoscope around his neck.

“The demon lords...take turns to exam students?” she asked, a little dumbfounded, as he walked around behind her and began looking over her bare back. He placed the stethoscope to her warm skin, the cold metal making her shiver.

“Take a deep breath for me, please,” he replied, clearly dodging her question, as he listened to her inhale and exhale. He also listened to the beating of her heart, smiling to himself at how the beats seemed to be getting rapid.

“Everything sounds fine here,” he chirped on a smile, before placing his hands on her shoulders and guiding her to lie back. “I just have a bit more to check on you, though, so please just relax.”

She stiffened when his fingers ghosted over her breasts almost immediately, giving them each a good squeeze; he must be checking for lumps, she thought, having endured this feeling before. But when he tweaked her nipples when they stiffened due to his stimulation, she fought to keep in the high squeak that wanted to leave her. He chuckled and ran his hands down her sides, pressing at her rib cage, her abdomen, and coming to stop right at her navel. He pulled away from her to tug the stirrups out from under the table, and had her place one foot in each.

“I have one last place to check on you, dear MC,” he spoke matter-of-factually, pulling up his stool to sit between her legs. She pressed her thighs together subconsciously, but he tutted her, giving her thighs a squeeze as he separated them once more. “Don’t be shy now, darling. Let me make sure everything is functioning as it should down here for you.”

“It’s just...embarrassing being on full display for you like this, Asmo,” she mumbled, pressing the palms of her hands to her eyes, trying to will away the flush in her cheeks. He giggled but smiled up at her, giving her thigh another reassuring pat. “I’ll take good care of you, MC. Don’t you worry your pretty, little head. Now, let’s begin.”

She felt his gloved fingertips prod at her folds and she tried to will herself to relax as they explored further. She felt one of his fingers slowly inching inside her, twisting around and curling here and there, pressing against her gummy walls. The tip came in contact with a particular spot, making her gasp and jump.

“There it is,” he hummed, before pulling away his hands altogether, and rolling backwards to reach into on of the medical supply drawers. He retrieved a small cylindrical tube with an attached hand-pump, as well as what clearly looked to be an elongated vibrator. Her eyes widened when he moved closer to her with them in hand, questioning him with her look alone.

He simply grinned. “Part of the examination, you see. There a few things I must check the function of. Is that alright with you to proceed?”

She eyed him furthered, nerves bubbling in her lower belly; but the excitement of what he had planned seemed to out-weigh her nerves. She swallowed the lump her throat and gave him a nod. “Go ahead.”

He smiled warmly at her and nodded in return, before returning to his spot between her thighs. She relaxed back on the exam table, exhaling deeply, before taking in a deep breath when something warm was being applied to her folds. “Lubricant, to help things be easier,” she heard he mention, before allowing herself to relax once more.

She than felt something at the apex of her sex, the pressure being applied directly to her clit. She could feel a hard suction, causing her to gasp slightly and buck her hips. It was tugging at her clit with each pump, pulling it from its hood and making it swell in size. She could hear Asmo humming to himself as he worked the pump, and assumed once he was satisfied with his work, he released the pump and removed it.

She looked down to see her clit was engorged and sticking out more, red and puffy. Asmo leaned forward and blew on the bud, making her shutter and moan. “A clit pump,” he began, “helps to stimulate blood flow to the clitoris and cause it to engorge, and become far more sensitive.”

He reached out as he spoke, his thumb and forefinger rolling the swollen bud, making her writhe at the sensation. “As you can clearly tell,” he teased. She huffed and glared down at him, but her eyes rolled back when he applied the vibrator to it. His free hand gripped her hip to keep her from rolling against the toy, allowing on the vibrations to hit her clit, and her head rolled back and forth, moans loudly leaving her lips.

“Asmo--I---!” she cried, before a strong orgasm washed over her, her hips raising off the exam table as she rode out her high. He kept the toy pressed to her swollen clit, making her thrash about and sob at the over-stimulation. Before she regain herself and relax from the first orgasm, a second one revved up and hit her, making her back arch and her hips jerk against his hand.

He finally pulled the toy away from her abused clit, and she felt her muscles beginning to relax; only for her body to tense once more as he pushed it inside her, filling her to the hilt. The tip of the vibrator immediately made contact with the sensitive spot deep inside, and he turned it up to the highest setting. Her eyes began to fill with tears as her hips moved of their own accord, rocking against the toy inside her.

Asmodeus leaned forward and pressed small kisses to her clit, watching as the muscle in legs and stomach tensed at the oncoming orgasm. “You’re doing so well for me, my dear,” he cooed, pressing the toy in to her a little hard. She whimpered at his words, covering her face with both her arms as she sobbed about it being too much.

He shook his head. “Just a little more. You can give me one more, no?”

He pressed his thumb to her clit, running small circles around it, and the stimulation combined with the toy buried in her cunt pushed her over the edge. Her mouth fell open in a silent scream as her body stiffened, her walls squeezing and pulling the toy in more. He cooed at her further, running a gentle hand along her thigh as he helped bring her down from the rush. He slowly and genlty removed to toy from her, placing them in back in the medical supply drawer, and returning with warmed wash clothes to help clean her up.

“Looks like everything is perfectly fine for you, MC,” he chirped happily, standing to retrieve the long ignored clipboard. She watched him with tired eyes as he checked off a few boxes on the paper, and turned back to her with a large smile on his face. “Thank you for letting me be the one to examine you today. You are free to go.”

She climbed off the table onto wobbly legs, stepping over to the chair where her uniform was folded. As she was putting her clothing back on, Asmodeus stepped up behind her and whispered in her ear:

“Though if you ever would like another thorough examination, you always know where to find me, MC.~”

#obey me #obey me smut #obey me nsft #asmodeus #fem!mc #request #fanfiction #overstimulation tw

[crimson-wrld]

Whumptober 1 - Bound

A Christmas writing in October? Why not!

Was inspired by this post by @jordanstrophe

CW: bound, kidnapped, abandoned, hypothermia/freeze whump, referenced branding, torture mention, blood mention, fear of death

From the floor of the backseat of the car, Whumpee can hear the low rumble of the engine like the beat of his own heart. His head is leaning back on the door, but not visible through the window, how the driver ordered. The laboured breaths from his nose are the only other thing audible. Whumpee shifts, bringing his knees up and tucking them under his chin, wincing in pain as his aching limbs move. The ropes tying his wrists and ankles burn against his skin, but the feeling just joins the pulsing of the colourful bruises he acquired in the last few hours.

The driver gives him a sparing glance before turning on the radio. A happy tune fills the car, one Whumpee recognizes as 'Rockin around the Christmas tree.' It didn't seem like something the gruff, serious driver would want to listen to; Whumpee guessed he was trying to fill the silence.

At a stoplight the driver rolls his window down, the December chill flows through making Whumpee shiver. The driver pulls a cigarette from the center console and lights it, tapping loose ash on the window frame.

The bright ember reminds Whumpee of the searing pain from a brand pressed into his flesh just hours before. His own screams echo in his head like loud music at a party. Instead, he looks out the front windshield as well as he can in his position bound on the floor.

"Where are we going?" Whumpees battered voice pipes up when the car sets in motion again. It's dark out, the middle of the night on Christmas Eve, well, Christmas at this point since it must have been many hours since Whumpee was taken. He can see the analog clock on the dashboard glaring '2:06 AM'

"Don't worry your pretty little head about it," The driver's eyes flick to him again, "Just giving your team a nice Christmas present… boss's orders."

No other cars are around, except the occasional one Whumpee hears drive by. Everyone is at home with their families, like Whumpee should be. Instead, he's been captured from his base, beaten, branded and bloodied as a form of show. The enemy who took him sent pictures during the torture to Whumpee's team. Whumpee knows because the enemy leader, Whumper, had made him watch as he pressed send.

"This serves as a lesson of the type of people you guys are up against," Whumper had said laughing as Whumpee laid on the floor shaking with sobs.

After that, he'd been tied up, and whumpers personal driver was sent in to take him away, and here he is now.

"What do you mean by present?" Whumpee asks him, a discomfort settling deep in his stomach.

"I mean I'm going to dump you somewhere for your team to find you, depends on how fast they do it what kind of present it'll be."

"You're saying I'm going to die?" He gulps, worry evident across his features.

"Maybe," the driver responds with a drag of his cigarette, smoke billowing out the window.

Whumpee slides his tongue over the new split in his lip, the slight taste of copper follows. If there was any defiance in him before, it's been whipped out of him now. He knows he's in no position to change the course of the night… maybe it'll end up his last.

"You know, I like you Whumpee… you don't whine and cry like most do." his gruff voice speaks. Whumpee doesn't say anything to the driver's weird idea of a compliment, just stares at his bare feet. The rest of the ride is a quiet ambience and the music of 'Jingle bell rock.'

When the car comes to a stop, Whumpee's hands clench into fists and his shoulders stiffen. His shaking breaths pick up when the driver gets out of his seat and walks around, opening the door Whumpee has been leaning on for support.

The driver grabs him from under the arms and tugs him from the warmth of the car. The harsh cold licks his face and he takes a sharp inhale through his nose when his legs come flush with the freezing snow on the ground.

"W-wait… you-" Whumpee begins but clamps his mouth shut when all the driver does is chuckle. He doesn't even know why he tried.

His body is wracked with shivers as the driver drags him through the snow. It soaks through his loose tattered clothes and makes his skin feel numb. The rest of it blows onto his face strong like a blizzard. He has to squint his eyes, only making it harder to see in the dark.

He gets let go next to a dumpster in some alleyway, scrambling until his back is against the wall of a building.

“Smile for me,” The driver says, Whumpee looks up dejectedly through his lashes. The driver is holding his phone up and Whumpee hears a clicking noise, “This is all they get to find you, Whumpee… Merry Christmas,” He finishes, throwing his cigarette on the ground in front of Whumpee's bound feet. He crushes it with a steel-toed boot before delivering a swift hard kick to Whumpee's stomach, stealing his breath away.

“That's for getting blood in my car,” He spits, then turns, snow crunching beneath his boots as he walks away.

Whumpee wheezes, and curls into himself again, trying his hardest to block the cold afflicting him. His teeth chatter and his hands shake behind his back. He hears the driver's car speed out of the lot.

He thought about struggling or screaming for help, but he knew the binds wouldn't budge and that there probably wasn't anybody around to hear him anyway, especially on a holiday at this time of night. He couldn't waste energy on futile things, he'd need as much as he could muster. Whumpee didn't know if that was stupid or not.

He shouldn't be here, he should be at the base, in his bed asleep, waiting to get up and share gifts and celebrate with his team- his family- he should be warm and happy, not in a random alleyway in the middle of the night hoping not to die.

The weather had him chilled to the bone, the dried blood on his face felt more prominent than before, and he could feel blood slowly oozing from still open wounds. Part of him wished the cold would make him unable to feel the pain still lingering, and the shame of the new brand burned above his left collarbone claiming him as whumpers property.

His eyes shone with unshed tears he refused to let fall. He honestly just wanted a hug, and to not die alone and freezing. He wasn't going to cry though… he wasn't going to die like this.

Whumpee doesn't know how long he's been out there when he hears faint shouting. He peeks slightly above his knees, unable to see anything from where he's sat next to the dumpster. He screws his eyes shut.

"Whumpee! Whumpee are you here?" He hears Leader's voice through the snow pelting at his body harder and harder. There's been at least another two inches around him since he was left.

Whumpee wants to call back to him, but he feels so weak now he can hardly open his mouth or even his eyes. It feels like his lungs have frozen over and his skin is flushed red like a ripe strawberry. He can only hope that they come far enough to see him.

"We need to find him soon or we're going to be too late!" Teammate says over the wind. Whumpee snivels, hope and dread fighting for dominance in his chest. The words he hears hardly register anymore.

Caretaker looks at the photo on his phone again, "He's gotta be here, we've looked everywhere, and this area looks like the picture."

Whumpee registers nothing else besides crunching snow and loud wind before being startled by hands on his shoulders. Then the shouts and words slam into him like a brick, even still, he only manages to make out a few of them.

"Whumpee! Can you hear me?"

"Quick, get him in the car!"

He feels himself being lifted and soon, set in the seat of a car. Someone cuts the ropes restraining him. The wet, torn t-shirt and shorts he wears are shrugged off and replaced with comfortable pants and a sweater.

"He's probably hypothermic."

Whumpee feels blankets wrap around his shoulders and head. He opens his eyes, the first person he sees is Caretaker.

"C-careta…" he tries to say, voice rough and still gravelly from screaming his lungs raw before.

"Shhh… Whumpee," Caretaker says. Whumpee's eyes fill with tears again and he finally lets them go, reaching out to Caretaker.

"I'm so sorry," Caretaker coos, pulling Whumpee slowly into a gentle hug as he sobs. "You're safe now, you're gonna be okay… We're gonna get you help," he comforts. He looks at Leader and Teammate up front with a worried expression, hoping they can get to the hospital fast enough on the icy roads.

The blood on Whumpees body makes Caretaker's own boil with anger. He thinks about the pictures of Whumpee being tortured, and how much he wants to kill Whumper for what he did. He thinks about the reminder Christmas will have for them now.

For now, though, Whumpee was first priority, but Caretaker made sure to promise him one thing.

"They'll never hurt you again Whumpee, I'll make sure of that."

Part 2 here

#whumptober2021 #no.1 #bound #whump #whump writing #hypothermia whump #torture #whumpee

[toxycodone]

nanami kento // gn!reader

just being honest but I think about nanami fucking his assistant all. the. time.

imagine being his little intern. you’ve been dealing with heartbreak after heartbreak—simply due to men being immature and only going after you for sex.

one day you end up confessing to him about just how DOA things have been and you’re just over it. and nanami offers to take you out dinner. it’s an innocent enough proposal, knowing him you’re sure he’s just trying to be a nice and a gentleman, plus it’s almost closing time...so you accept.

but when you both go out it’s like you see an entirely different side to him. usually he’s so work oriented and unexpressive, but he’s giving you a small smile. placing his hand on the small of your back as you walk. he pulls your chair out for you before he sits down. you’re shocked at just how gentle he is? despite being, well, nanami...he’s got a warmth to him and you’re able to actually open up to him.

and while you’re venting about what’s been going on you make a joke about how the dudes go after you for sex and can’t even fuck...you see him visibly stiffen up. For a moment you’re worried maybe you went too far, but he just gives an almost silent laugh.

“Is that right?”

you’re relieved he’s amused by it and the topic seems to burn out there as you move onto another, but you can tell what you confessed has changed things—even just slightly. the way nanami eyes you from his side of the table makes you have to cross your legs in anticipation.

anyways. he takes you to his place. and of course, he blows your mind.

he’s slow. there’s no rushing to his place and tearing off your clothes. he lets you take your shoes off, helps you with your jacket and hangs it on the coat rack before doing the same with his. his glasses come off too, neatly placed in a case on his coffee table. then, his full attention is on you. he cups your face in one of his large hands and gives you a deep kiss, letting you just melt into him. there’s no awkward tumbling into the couch either. he takes your hand and leads you to his bedroom.

and even still, he’s slow. nanami let’s you fall against the bed then leans into you. you can almost grind yourself against his thigh, and you try, but you’re barely getting enough stimulation while his tongue’s down your throat. usually, this type of situation would make you bored, but each passing moment just fills you with more anticipation because you know he’s going to take care of you.

and he’s so considerate. despite him having a raging hard-on he’s completely focused on you. he asks for permission before taking off your clothes and touching certain areas—when his fingers dive between your legs you’re not sure if he’s just asking to tease you or if one man can genuinely be so thoughtful. he’s careful not to just shove his fingers inside you and wiggle them around. nanami gives a gentle kiss to your collarbone before carefully slipping one finger into you. you moan and lean into him and he just whispers about how pretty you are before working you open. he’s pressing kisses into your skin as he drinks in your moans, simply getting off to the fact you’re enjoying yourself.

he’s intent on making you cum first too. when he can tell you’re getting relaxed nanami’s lips move in between your legs. and for once, you’re embarrassed. having your boss with his face to your most inimate area...it’s definitely a new experience for you. but he assured you there’s nothing to be ashamed of before carefully gliding his tongue against you.

his movements are light and gentle at first as he explores the area. he tests what makes you feel good—which movements he makes that makes your breath hitch, toes curls, leaves you moaning in that cute high pitch he never expected to come out of you. and then he starts working his fingers into you as well and you’re seeing stars. despite them being so thick, nanami’s fingers are nimble, careful to find the right spot to press inside you and curl into you. how fast you cum onto his face is legitimately humiliating. you’ve never been that quick, your thighs snap to cage his head and he lets out an mmph!, before quickly adapting and licking whatever he has access to while the feeling flows through you. the way your thighs shake and body quakes afterwards has you wondering if he sucked your soul out along with the orgasm.

when you peer down in between your legs, nanami’s face is shiny with a mix of spit and cum, and you feel the blood rush back to your cheeks again. he’s usually so clean and put together, but the way his hair is tousled and your juices dribble down his chin...it’s a sight to behold. he gives you a few more licks, holding your thighs apart despite how much your body fights to close them, before coming back up to face you again.

you want to apologize for...all of that. but his lips stop you, repeatedly kissing you and stealing your breath away. you hear his hands unzip his pants and clamber to pull them down and kick them off. all of a sudden, it’s pressing against your thigh, and you just know he isn’t anywhere near done with you yet.

#nanami kento #nanami kento x reader #nanami x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut

[palbabor-writes]

Naoya, you say?

warnings: very, very terrible & problematic behavior, oral, SMUT, unhealthy relationship, mentions of mind break, tw.dubcon, tw.abuse/violence, tw.implied misogyny, look, what i’m trying to say is: TW.NAOYA ZEN’IN

fetishes/kinks - he’s an impatient man. there’s little time for build up or foreplay and if you’ve made it this long & this far into the Zen’in compound, you know that.

he likes to summon you; enjoys the corded power that sits behind something as simple as a ringing a bell; looking up to see you framed in the fusuma's entry, your body stark under the flowing lines of your ashen yukata. 

you should have taken more time with your hair, he thinks distastefully. it’s unkempt at the top, evidence of your rush to answer his wordless beckoning; but it will do, he supposes. after all, you’ll be mashed across the tatami soon, your body pinned over the stiff rushes as he splits that robe of yours open, his fingers eager to stroke, pinch, and mar. 

he likes leaving the evidence of your couplings behind; he likes it better still when you bleed. once, his teeth nicked a scar into the supple flesh of your inner thigh and he wants to taste it again - to see if he can make it bigger. 

there are rules once you step over the threshold, and your toes twitch within the confines of your uwabaki, waiting for him to speak. the only sounds you are permitted to make on his side of the compound are the ones he allows, so you nibble the inside of your mouth, hoping your face is impassive; watching from lowered lashes.

Naoya is an impatient man, but this part of the transaction he likes to savor. and why shouldn’t he? he paid good money for you. even though you’ve yet to whelp him any offspring. but what do you expect of a lowly concubine? someone from a family so weak in cursed techniques they barely fall under the Zen’in... no, his notice.

“Get in here, slut,” he breathes; smirking when you bow and your knees automatically hit the flooring. you’re so well trained it’s almost disgusting. 

he spreads his legs, crooking a finger and you quickly slot yourself between them, icy hands maneuvering past the folds of his kimono. but when you lower your head to take his half hard cock into your mouth, he strikes you.

“Wrong,” he intones, snatching your stinging cheek between his thumb and forefinger, lifting your eyes to his. “Did’ja ask if you could suck me off? Did I tell ya’ it was ok for you to touch me? Don’t blink up at me; like yer’ some dumb cow. Speak, bitch.”

“I didn’t ask,” you grit, tongue broken and bleeding from the suddenness of his reprimand and the sharpness of your self-inflicted bite.

“And what did we learn?” he laughs, releasing your jaw so he can palm at his stiffening dick, working slick drops of pre-cum over the flushed head.

“May I?” you ask, gulping some of that bitter iron down your throat. 

“May ya’ what?” Naoya sneers, free hand grabbing at your face again, forcing two fingers past your lips and over your teeth, mixing your saliva and blood between his digits.

“M-ugh mhya ‘uck oo off?” you grunt, resisting the urge to clamp your canines on his impertinent touch with a heavy gulp.

“What did I just say? Making me repeat myself... Speak up. Fuck, yer’ dumb.”

you jerk your chin back, dislodging his fingers, and try again. “May I suck you off?”

“May I suck you off... what?” he taunts, already shoving your head down, humming when your warm breath ghosts over his throbbing cock.

“Sir,” you begin, tracing the tip of your tongue over his leaking slit; hating that you love the way he ruts forward, his greedy hips already asking for more. “May I suck you off, sir?”

tldr: my guy has a biiiiig degradation kink, as well as an engrained proclivity for marking. if you’re fucking him, or if he wants you, you’re his. no if and’s or butts about it.

you are also the lesser. he is firm in this & will remind you of it. after all, any woman who doesn’t walk behind a man should be killed in his mind, and if you, someone he’s gone through so much trouble to train to his preferences, put even one foot wrong - well, i don’t see it ending prettily.

he’s the kind of fucker who would love to see you bruised. it’s just another way of saying you’re his.

*spritzes you with holy water*

k, bye.  

#psudo asks #asks #answered asks #jjk smut #naoya zen’in #naoya zenin #zenin naoya #tw: violence #tw: dubcon #tw: misogyny #headcanon #jjk headcanons #pal muses #on why i even like this fucker #god #he is trash #but damn it #i'm interested

[babylooneytoonz]

The Black Hand

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Violence, blood and gore || Angst with a happy ending ||

[My Masterlist]

Just like a hundred odd marriages that had managed to break apart, yours was one of them but it was a long time ago— two years to be exact. Although it did hurt a lot the first few months, when you went over it countless times as to where had you gone wrong, what had you done for Tommy to fall out of love with you, or maybe it was the other way round, although you were sure it wasn't. It wasn't easy especially when the two of you shared something beautiful together— your three year old daughter, Avery. But like someone's rightly said, time does heal all wounds. And just like that, in the blink of an eye, or you would rather say, a whole year, you did finally get over it, get over him and move on.

You and Avery moved to London city after your divorce with Tommy, for you wanted the best for the little girl, and Tommy agreed, that Birmingham wasn't the best place for you to raise the girl alone, although Tommy was still in your life, and hers. But it wasn't just the same post the divorce, he would only be able to find the time to come visit her once every two weeks or so, although he did make sure that he was sending you money, although you could very well make your own living.

"Why can't you fucking stay at home and be with her? I'm sending you enough for the two of you, ay." You once remembered him saying, almost two months post the two of you had separated.

That night had been yet another night when you had found yourself screaming at the top of your lungs, not that he didn't yell back at you. It was as if he was giving you his own fire in retaliation to yours, "Why? Why do I stop living my life just because you fucking decided you don't want to fucking be a part of this family anymore?" You screeched, jabbing him in the heart with your hate filled eyes.

He shook his head, annoyed as he moved away from you, in a desperate attempt to shield him from your lethal gaze. "Not this again, [Y/N]. I'm not fucking going to go over this again with you."

"Really? The last time I remember, and the time before that, you never really told me why you wanted to call out, did you Thomas?" Tommy flinched every time you called him from his first name, it felt ruthless and hateful but he knew he deserved it. He swallowed thickly, and looked away, his fingers instinctively pulling out a box of cigarettes as he began to steer you away from this discussion again, "Well since you so clearly don't want to fucking do what I ask you to do, you might as well move to London, with Ada. At least I can stop worrying about her that way—" He turned towards Avery's room, glancing at the shut door as though he could see her through the wood inside and then turned back to you.

You weren't so opposed to that idea to be honest and did end up moving to London, moving into the apartment just next to Ada, because you didn't want to invade into her privacy, and let her invade into your own. She had a son, and she didn't need her nesting the two of you on top of it. You began working for a kind old man who sold paintings for a living. He was too old now, so he chose not to sit in the shop anymore, having hired you to do it.

Business had been running low for a while, and the fact that London city was all wet and in puddles, and the rains won't stop was another contributing factor to it. You sat idly in the shop, staring at the rain smeared windows, the heavy sound of rain the only source of noise in the otherwise calm shop.

It was as though it took you a second to make your mind, you stood up, the chair croaking as it was pushed back and you stretched your arms in the air. There was no point in staying at the shop anymore, and you wanted nothing more than to sit by the fireplace at your home, your daughter perched on your lap playing with her doll, while you drank a warm, soothing cup of tea. Pulling your coat on, you took your umbrella, using it to shield you from the merciless lashes out on the street as you locked the shop and began walking home.

You reached the front door, and climbing the front steps, you closed the dripping umbrella, letting it rest by the doorstep so it wouldn't leak into your new carpet. You shuffled through your purse, looking for your keys when your eyes fell on your door, and you realized it wasn't locked. You frowned, your eyebrows creasing into a thin line as you opened the door and stepped inside, a sudden pit of horror inkling through your blood. You were never as careless as to not lock the door, although you always left Avery with Ada and Karl so the worry didn't revolve around her, it was more around your own recklessness.

You were about to start striding towards the parlour when you heard the footsteps approach you, only to finally be able to see your ex husband, your daughter trotting behind him, her hand securely held into his own, his eyes scanning yours. You parted your lips, confused when Tommy began speaking, "I came over at Ada's. Found her there." He then turned towards Avery and almost bent so he was face level with her, her tiny blue eyes staring into her father's, "Why don't you go into your room, love? Once I'm done speaking to your mum, I'll be back with you."

She nodded, giving you a tiny smile that you returned and she ran off, her tiny feet thudding against the wooden flooring of your apartment. The two of you waited until she had run up the flight of stairs and then he pulled up a card, raising it in the air for you to see, "Do you ever fucking bother going through your mail?"

Your eyes flew to the card he was holding, and you tilted your neck, shaking your head in confusion, when Tommy sighed, clearly annoyed and walked up to you, placing the card in your palm for you to see.

"It's a fucking black hand, came for all of us. I assumed they would have sent one to you too, and I was right. They bloody did." Tommy's hand flew to his head, his fingers entangling through his hair as he pulled onto them for a brief second, his exasperation obvious. You had lived with Tommy, had been married to him long enough to know what a Black Hand meant. Your hand flew to your chest as panic arose inside of you and you instantly forced yourself to the wall, afraid your legs would betray you and you would fall.

Tommy grunted, and then his eyes softened a bit as he took a step closer, looking at you as he sighed, taking a drag of his cigarette, "They won't touch you, or Avery. I won't let them."

"How the fuck did they find us?" You gasped, still in shock, and a bit of denial.

"Just like they found Ada, which is why the two of you come back home with me—"

"But this is my fucking home, Tommy. Not Birmingham, because I clearly remember you being the one shunning me out and suggesting London," You snapped, cutting him off.

You felt him stiffen, and your eyes darted down to where his hands were, clutched to his sides, clenched into tight fists, his white knuckles peeking out, making you aware of his growing temper.

"I don't— You don't and will not let it go? Yes I fucking walked out of your life and sent you to London because I thought this was the only fucking way to keep you two safe, for fucks sake—"

You paused, taking in his words that had managed to flow out of his lips that instant. He saw the look on your face and he immediately stopped speaking, moving away until he fixed himself by your window and began staring at the rain, trying to avoid the questions that were growing now in your mind.

"Is that why you decided to end this—"

Your voice was reduced to a mere whisper, and it was suddenly so quiet, you were scared that even Tommy will be able to hear the sound of your heart cracking into two. Your lips trembled, your eyes suddenly cloudy as you waited for a few seconds for Tommy to say something. Anything. One. Two. Three. Four seconds. Nothing.

"Tommy, why? I need to know. I fucking deserve to know." Your voice beseeched him, breaking his own heart once again.

"It was a long time back," he mumbled.

"It wasn't, two years isn't long enough," you retorted.

You watched as he turned towards you slowly, but instead of looking at you, his gaze fell on a photograph on by the fireplace, a photograph of when Avery was a baby. He walked up to it, slowly grabbing it and lifting it into his hand as he began staring at the smiling baby, his expressions not betraying how broken he really felt.

"Father Hughes had said something years back, that he knows a way to get back at me, he knows my fucking weakness and he was going to bloody act on it —" His palm swiped over his daughter's face, a low smile breaking out against his lips as he imagined, just for a brief second, the first cries of his daughter and how happy he had felt in that moment when he had first held her in his arms, promising to himself that he was going to protect her with his life if it required. "I couldn't let him get his hands on you. Avery wasn't born yet that time, and that made you even worse of a target— my pregnant wife."

"You waited for her to be born, so you could.. send us away. To keep us safe. That's what you thought? That's what you thought would keep us safe?"

Tommy looked up finally, his irises meeting yours, and you could see the hurt hidden in those eyes, an art he was so well versed with, hiding his emotions— pretending that he had none. He was about to reply when Avery walked into the room, her palm rubbing over her eyelids, her doll clutched tightly in her other hand.

"Daddy, you promised you'll read me a bedtime story."

You hurriedly brought your palm up to your face and turned away, using the temporary distraction to wipe your tears away and walked up to Avery, kneeling down in front of her before you quickly planted a kiss to her forehead. You then straightened up again and nodded at Tommy, who lifted Avery up in his arms. Avery clung on to him, and his arm was wrapped around her waist, having held her propped up against his hip but his eyes didn't leave yours until you were forced to be the one to leave the parlour first and lock yourself on your room again.

It felt surreal to be back in Birmingham again. This was the city where you were born, where you grew up and where you fell in love, with both, Thomas Shelby and the daughter you shared with him. And now, you were back at the Arrowe House once more.

The smile on Avery's face was heartwarming— you couldn't deny how her eyes lit up like a Christmas tree when she sat on her father's lap in the evenings after Tommy came back from work while you busied yourself with Ada, and Karl, who was almost two years older than her, ran around with his toys, trying to get Avery's attention.

Today was just another day that had turned into a normal routine for you. Ada sat on the dining table, reading an old journal of some sorts while you stood by the stove, boiling some water for some tea. Just next to the breezy kitchen was Tommy's study, and you could practically hear your daughter's mindless babbles from here.

"But daddy, mummy says that if I eat more chotolate, all my teeth are going to fall off, and..and never grow back."

"Well, love. Mummies are always right, no matter what your mum says, my girl will always do it. Yeah?" Tommy's voice reached your ears making your lips curve into a weak smile that Ada happened to catch.

"[Y/N] —" Ada began, but you cut her off.

"Ada, I think I have a hunch about what you will say. Please don't. I'm not ready for it."

She sighed, while you poured the tea into two cups and walked up to her, placing one in front of her. Karl walked into the kitchen, grabbing a biscuit, shooting the two of you a warm smile before he rushed off to play.

"I'm not going to defend my brother, love. He is a fucking grown man and he did some bloody stupid things. But I still think that the two of you should talk. I mean, atleast for Avery."

You nodded and pulled out a chair for yourself, bringing the tea cup up to your lips so you could blow on it and take a sip, intentionally deciding not to reply to Ada because you didn't want to talk about this, or about Tommy. You were about to pull out a box of cigarettes from the pocket in your dress, when you heard a loud crash somewhere outside.

Your eyes widened at the sound and your head snapped towards Ada as the two of you rushed to the window, trying to peek out of it— but in the dark of the night, neither of you could see anything. You turned to Ada, giving her a confused look when the door kicked open behind you, causing the two of you to jump in a scare, only to find Tommy standing there, holding both Karl and Avery by either of their hands.

Upon seeing their mothers, the two children ran up to them, Avery now clinging to your leg as Tommy walked up to the two of you, his eyes tensed and his face showing worry.

"What's going on, Tommy?" Ada asked, Karl now hoisted up against her waist.

"Listen—" Tommy looked back towards the door, swiping his palm over his face. You could sense that something wasn't right, by the way your ex husband's body was tense and rigid, his eyes hollow and void as he looked from Ada to you and his eyes finally grew dark with rage, "Keep the children in and don't leave the parlour until I come and get you."

"Tommy, tell us what's—" you began.

"They are outside. The Italians," His gaze fell on Avery, and you swear you saw a glaze in Tommy's eyes before he turned towards the both of you, " Stay away from the fucking windows , draw the curtains shut and don't step out of the parlour no matter what you hear. Ey? There are guns in the topmost drawer of the cabinet, here's the key—" You watched in horror and numbness as Tommy slid you a key. Without uttering a word, you tightened your grip around the key and swallowed the lump forming in your throat.

"Come on, Avery, [Y/N]," Ada's voice pulled you out of your daze and the four of you began running towards the parlour. Upon reaching the parlour door, Tommy instead of following you turned into another hallway and your breathing hitched on the realization that he wasn't following you anymore, and your heart sank in despair, racing in worry. Hot chunks of tears started falling off your eyes, making you pull Avery to your chest, holding her tight as you sat down on an armchair, your legs trembling and your knees wobbling, your daughter held securely in your arms.

"Will he come back Ada?" You whispered, slowly lifting your gaze until you had fixed it on her and she gave you a sad look and turned away.

You don't remember why the time stood still after that. The two of you sat huddled in the parlour for hours perhaps or were they just minutes that kept stretching on, you weren't sure. The sounds of the bullets and the guns had finally died down, but Tommy wasn't back yet. You looked down at Avery, who had fallen asleep in your arms and then you looked at Ada, and Karl, giving them a weak smile.

Gently, you stood up, scooping her in your arms and not wanting to wake her up before you placed her into the chair.

"What are you doing, [Y/N]?" Ada asked weakly.

Before you could find yourself replying to her, you found yourself striding towards the door of the parlour that you had locked from the inside.

"[Y/N]! For fucks sake don't. Tommy asked us not to leave—" Ada began but you cut her off and unlocked the door, hurriedly stepping out.

"Ada, please watch Avery, I'll be back I promise."

"[Y/N]!!"

Her cries fell on deaf ears after that for you were already running down the hall of the Arrowe House, ignoring her pleas to not go out. You held the gun securely in your hand, just in case as you ran out of the front door and were immediately greeted by a harrowing scene. Bodies littered the front garden, blood seeping through the grass and having turned it red. Men in Blinder caps walked about here and there, and the air smelled of death and gunpowder. Some of them were clearing the mess they had made, while other roamed aimlessly , perhaps waiting for an instruction from Tommy.

Tommy—

Panic was suddenly drilling into your ears as your eyes began darting around, looking for him. You grabbed one of the Peaky boys using the fabric of their coat and he turned towards you, frowning, "Mrs. Shelby, you are not supposed to be here, please get back inside —"

"Where is he? Take me to Tommy. Now." You were hyperventilating, practically gasping for air.

"Mrs. Shelby we can't—" Words got caught in his mouth and his eyes widened when you drew out the gun and cocked it, aiming it right to his face. You didn't know what you were doing and delirium had taken over you completely.

"I don't care what orders he might have given you. You are going to fucking take me to Thomas and you are going to do it now, lad," you growled.

"It's okay lad, get the fuck off and clear the fucking bodies—" Arthur suddenly stepped next to you and he admonished the young lad, watching him scamper off, his head in his tail. Arthur then turned towards you.

"Put the fucking gun down, [Y/N] because that is not a fucking toy," he threw out his hand towards you and you glanced down at it, your body still burning from worry mixed with rage. Reluctantly, you placed the gun into his hand that he swiftly pocketed.

"Where's Tommy, Arthur?"

"Yeah, alright, I'll take you to him, but you won't like the bloody sight—"

"Take me to him, I won't have it any other way." You mumbled.

Arthur and you walked side by side towards the stables, and all through that thirty second walk, you couldn't stop your heart from racing with nervousness. The minute you stepped into the stables, all colour drained from your face at the sight before you.

Tommy was laid back on a makeshift bedding by propping up the sacks of hay together. His shirt was off, crumpled to the floor, red and stained with his own blood. A massive bullet wound spurted out blood from his gut and his eyes were weak, his face sweaty. He lifted his eyes just when you entered, and even in his condition, a frown managed to cake its way over his otherwise pained features.

"I fucking asked you—" he breathed in a punctured way, his lower lip trembling from the blood loss, while one of the men hunched over him, pulling out the bullet from his torso, "— Not to step out of the fucking house unless I get to you."

You gave him a cold, ghostly stare, your lips pressing into a firm line as you ignored him and walked up to the man that was now beginning to patch him up. You patted him twice on his shoulder and he looked up at you, and then down to your hand that was stretched out facing the ceiling, "I'll take it from here. All of you, just fucking get out. Leave us alone."

The men looked at Tommy, who pressed his lips into a thin line, and then at Arthur who nodded and motioned for them to move out. The man placed the needle in your hand and you blinked, watching the men leave until you were alone with Tommy.

All the while, you hunched over him, working over his wound to patch him up, he kept glaring at you, his breathing heavy. Finally, when you were done, you tossed the needle away, looking down at your blood coated hands before glaring at him, your nostrils flared, "You fucking bastard, you fucking piece of shit, you could have fucking died and I wouldn't have had the chance to fucking say goodbye."

"[Y/N]—"

"No Tommy, I'm done. You could have died, leaving Avery behind, and that child doesn't deserve going through the fucking pain, you bloody don't get it do you? You like to fucking play with fire, it's like you have a death wish or something—" You fired, holding on to Tommy's thigh to keep yourself steady, as your vision had clouded and tears had managed to seep down your cheeks, staining the neck of your dress.

"You think I don't fucking know that? Fucks sake—" he sat up, wincing and his palm flying to his wound as you smacked his hand roughly and he hissed, his eyes glaring at you with fury. You grabbed the bandage and tied it securely around his wound, your eyes finally softening when you saw the colour slowly begin to return to his cheeks, "I told you to bloody stay in for a reason, so you two could be safe, but you don't ever fucking listen to me."

"Forgive me Tommy if I can't bear the fucking thought of losing you to death, because you're not a fucking God and you can't cheat death. Forgive me for being scared for our daughter, thinking and worrying everyday as to what will become of her when you're fucking gone—" you threw your hands exasperatedly into the air before you took a step away from him, and another, and another until you were met by the wooden walls of the barn and there was no place left for you to step towards. You brought your fisted palm up to your mouth, pressing it hard against it to muffle the sobs that were beginning to rack through your body as you looked at him with menacing, accusing eyes, "Forgive me if I can't get myself to fucking stop loving you, even though loving you is like death to me, and I die every single time this happens, forgive me."

"Fuck," Tommy cursed under his breath when he looked at you, almost shaking his head as he weakly lifted his hand and threw it out towards you, motioning to you to come back to him, "Come here, love." He finally sat to his side, wincing slightly, his feet now resting against the ground, making space for you to sit down next to him. You blinked, wiping your tears away with your blood coated hands, smudging your face with it, but not bothering as you, with slow steps, walked to where Tommy was and sat down next to him, staring at your hands. He reached out, taking your hand in his, his fingers clasping around yours, but didn't speak. The two of you sat there in silence for the next few minutes, just listening to each other breathe, both of you tormented by your own set of thoughts, until he finally broke the silence.

"I never stopped loving you, not then, and not now. You think it was easy for me watching you leave? The fucking shovels were back again when you left, and I was bloody left to fight them alone."

You swallowed the lump forming in your throat, not daring to look into his eyes for you were afraid of breaking down again. So you just kept listening as he spoke, finally after all those months of keeping you in the dark.

"There were nights I was dying to come back to you, and to Avery, but I fucking stopped myself, love because I didn't want this to happen, for you and her to be caught in this mess, because of me—"

"Tommy, my love, this is where you went wrong," you cut him off, pulling your hands away from his, curling them against the fabric of your now bloody dress, "I married you knowing what I was getting myself into. And we were supposed to get through this together. What good came out of you leaving us just to keep us safe? We still got that bloody Black Hand."

He smiled humourlessly, turning away from you and began staring into the thin air, before you took his hand again, holding it tight so he couldn't pull out.

"You know—" Tommy mumbled, in a voice low, but loud enough for you to make out his words, "two fucking years and I haven't been with a woman."

You parted your lips, turning to him and blinked, before giving him a weak, teasing smile, "Tommy Shelby turned into a hermit, well that's just not believable."

"Neither did I kiss one."

"Is that your way of asking me if you can kiss me, Mr. Shelby?" You smiled and turned towards him, staring at his form, letting your tongue trail over your lower lip as you arched your body closer towards him, so you were close to his lips, feeling his breath over you.

"What would you do if I said yes?" He breathed.

"I would fucking do this," you leaned in, fluttering your lashes until you pressed your lips against his plump ones, kissing him.

Permanent Tommy Shelby Taglist:

@really-dont-forget-it @thepeakygurl @baumarvel @captivatedbycillianmurphy @nyotamalfoy @peakyfooky @buckyxreader99 @theflamecrystal @milea

Want to be added to any of Taglist? Please drop in a message, an ask or comment and I will add you.

#tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby #thomas shelby x y/n #thomas shelby fanfic #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x reader #peaky blinders #peaky blinders x reader

[pseudofaux]

omg, i'm so shy to be asking this, but if you're ok with it, a drabble about Ikesen Kenshin getting oral and accidentally giving MC a facial (and maybe he feels guilty about it, but it doesn't mean he didn't like it.)

I am sooooooooooooo okay with this, thank you for asking for it! This is a brilliant scenario for Kenshin! I put in some MC-wooing-him talk to carry the scene through, because I could see his sweet bun[s] having trouble, uh, letting go. I hope you’ll see this and enjoy. (Requests are closed, readers, but there are a lot to be filled in May and likely June, too! Feel free to follow along or just check in and enjoy as many as you like. A masterlist will go up when they are all completed.)

She had never thought much of worshiping a man. Maybe because Kenshin worships her she feels safe to return his ardor in kind? She’s certainly doing that now, curling long trails with her tongue and kissing him every time she finishes. He feels good under her tongue, he feels good in her hands, he smells good and he tastes good, and it makes her want to bow formally before him. But she’s not going to stop what she’s doing.

The thing is, as long as he is certain she is safe, he lets her do what she wants. If there was a way for Kenshin to comb through the entire country and then put it under a dome of glass, like a prize cake, he would probably let her walk around unguarded.

Well. Maybe not completely unguarded. But she has come to realize that when he knows she is as safe as he can make her, he relaxes considerably. And he always says yes to her requests, seemingly calm and pleased to be able to indulge her. Which is why they are here in his room and he has his elbows on his desk and his kimono undone and his beautiful throat-- his whole beautiful front-- is exposed to the air. And to her, on her knees between the strength of his legs.

Not that she can spend much time looking at the beauty of all of him, since she is very focused on what he gave her when she asked for it: an opportunity to put her mouth on him and just love him for awhile. This precious chance to touch him and show him how much she adores him without having to withstand his own overwhelming attention is rare. When she glances at his beautiful hands, she can see the tendons of them flexing... but he keeps them to himself, because Kenshin is a man if his word and his word was he would let her have her way.

He is all beautiful masculinity before her. Those hands, hanging tense off the edge of his desk; the black cuffs artfully (and only partially) hiding the strength of his wrists; all the lovely strength of his chest and stomach. He’s mouth watering. She’s grateful for that, because a wet mouth makes it easier to move her tongue over him and give him the kisses she knows he likes. It feels nice to have this kind of permission to drool over how gorgeous and glorious he is in her hands. The skin of his shaft is the most perfect, malleable warmth over his unforgiving hardness— she has poked herself inside her cheek many times expecting him to somehow bend. He doesn’t. No wonder she cries out every time he puts himself inside her. His intensity is one thing, but his body is a true marvel.

There is no crying out now. She’s been noisier than she meant to, though. It just feels so good to love him! She is so glad he let her do this! It’s everything to her, to be able to mouth at him, breathe him in, use her tongue and suck to draw forth his pleasure the way he endlessly seeks hers. Even now, she feels like he has only paused his constant search for ways to make her moan... and she is moaning anyway.

She had never thought much of worshiping a man. Maybe because Kenshin worships her she feels safe to return his ardor in kind? She’s certainly doing that now, curling long trails with her tongue and kissing him every time she finishes. He feels good under her tongue, he feels good in her hands, he smells good and he tastes good, and it makes her want to bow formally before him. But she’s not going to stop what she’s doing.

Instead, she tries to articulate the feeling in a way he will understand. It’s important to be direct with Kenshin. “I love how you feel,” she murmurs. “Thank you for letting me do this.”

His sound is strangled by his own throat, but she understands him perfectly.

“Do you want me to keep talking?” She’s careful to whisper the question right onto the tip of him and make her breath gentle and warm before she slowly takes him back into her mouth and as far into her throat as she can.

The dragon of Echigo hisses and his thighs flex beneath her hands. “You know I love your voice. Speak if you wish to speak,” he manages to say.

She sucks, lets her tongue drag along him until distance parts their bodies, and then she goes right back down. When she comes back up she whispers, “I love you,” and kisses, then sucks, the tender space below the head of his cock, just as beautifully as the rest of him. “I love you, Kenshin.”

His entire body stiffens against the desk, and his legs flex again-- more powerfully-- below her hands and around her body. She’s on her knees, tucked into him like a swallow in a nest. “It makes me happy to give you this attention,” she says slowly. It makes her feel very powerful to use her tongue on him. “It feels good for me to love you this way.”

Kenshin is always, always elegant, but he makes a noise that is not. It fits perfectly in her soul, like a jewel he ordered to be cut just for her.

“I know you are so, so strong,” she whispers, kissing him again, “And I’m grateful that you would let me take over.”

She slides one hand over the bump of his knee and brings it to her own body. “Do you know,” she asks, “That when I have you on my tongue I feel it here?” She pushes herself onto her hand to show him exactly where she means.

“Woman,” he says hoarsely. “Why would you feel such a thing?”

“Because I love you,” she whispers. “Because your body is perfect, and every time I touch it I want you. Sometimes just to hold me. But right now I want you so much more than that.”

His beautiful face scrunches up in disbelief, pleasure, and confusion. It’s no small thing to send a god of any kind into such a tizzy. “This is torture,” he manages to grit out.

“It’s not. I love you,” she tells him again.

He stutters over a curse and clears his throat. The sound is very low, not a growl but not far from one, either. “Let me touch you,” he demands. “I need to touch you.”

“Soon,” she promises, slipping her hands all the way to his, palms open and up to supplicate him as she laces their fingers and squeezes him. “I will. Please give me just a little more time.”

He lets her take him back into her mouth, slowly and fully, even lets her love him with her tongue again before he speaks. But when he does, it is too late.

“I don’t have—nrgh—”

Kenshin cuts himself off with a cry of her name, and pulls back his hips to splatter his cum all over her face instead of in her mouth. She catches a glimpse of his cock standing so proud and beautiful, and she wants to watch it, but she closes her eyes and opens her mouth, gently putting out her tongue to catch what she can.

It’s not as though he’s never come in her mouth. But he’s never done it without touching her— usually she is coming along with him, licked and lapped to senseless pleasure by his tongue while his hands keep her safe as her soul tries to fly.

There’s warm wet on her face. Enough that she knows there’s a lopsided mask of it across the tops of her cheeks and nose, and a thick, slow dribble flowing down the side of her face. He seems to be done, so she opens her eyes. His are narrowed and lusty, and that little bit frustrated he gets when she one-ups him sexually. She does not think it is possible to love Kenshin any more than she does right now.

“Thank you,” she says, cupping her hands to catch his cum before it drips onto the floor.

He gasps, or perhaps he’s only winded. “How could you— why would you do that, why did you stay there instead of moving?” he demands. He pushes her hands away, then touches the slow-moving fluid on her face. His eyes get wider. His tongue darts out to lick his bottom lip and she can’t tell if he’s so quick about it because he’s trying to hide the movement or if he doesn’t even realize he’s making it. But he is definitely into this like she is, and that makes her burn even hotter for him, that steady fire stoked so much higher.

She puts her hand carefully over his, because even when his interest is clear to her, it helps to be clear about it right back, so he has many chances to see it. “Because I wanted you to do that,” she tells him. “I like making you feel that good.”

“I would never dishonor you with this mess,” he breathes. But he is not looking at it like it is dishonorable. He looks like he wants to pin her down, and like it will be a matter of seconds before he does. “Your beautiful face,” he insists. He looks so wonderfully torn between distress and arousal.

“I’m kind of hoping you’ll do this to my face again sometime,” she confesses.

His eyes get even wider and he launches himself from the desk, catching her back and leaning her down to the floor like they are in the middle of a battlefield dance instead of his room. His cum immediately begins to slide toward her ear and she fidgets from the tickle.

“No,” he says, swiping it gently away with his hand and flicking it off with the same finesse she has seen him use to throw blood from a blade. “Take off your clothes. Now.” He is already yanking at her loose robes and stroking the skin of her belly with his knowing, oh-so-skilled fingertips. And one is just a little slick on her, his cum clinging like an oil. It makes her shudder.

“I will do anything you ask,” Kenshin says, pulling one of her legs out, then the other, so she can rest more comfortably on the floor. “Even that, if you wish. But another time. Now it is your turn.” He is so solemn and fierce it is hard not to grin, knowing what she is in for. Already there is the hazy look in his eyes that means he is planning her pleasure. “It is only right for you to make a mess of my face,” he tells her, wiping tenderly at her nose with the edge of her clothing.

He sees to it with all the precision of a god, and in the process makes her feel like she is receiving heaven’s every blessing. When she is a lax heap of limbs on his floor, he crawls back up to her mouth. Their kisses are sweet and slippery indeed. But the mess is manageable, and well-appreciated.

#ikesen fanfiction #ikesen fanfic #ikesen kenshin #pseu slings #SO GOOD!!! nonny I hope you know this whole idea should be a giant feather in your cap because DAMN I love this idea sooooooo much!!!!

[cipheress-to-k-pop]

5 Times Dick Grayson tried to kiss you and the 1 time he did

Pairing: Dick Grayson as Robin x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of death and injuries.

Word Count: 3.3K

Summary: The 5 times that Dick Grayson tried to kiss you and the one time that he did.

One

“How do you do the 17th one?” You asked, not even looking up from your notebook. The two of you were tackling your math homework together,

Some might call it cheating but you liked to call it teamwork. Afterall you were a team, and what was the difference between a few supervillains and integrals?

Realizing that he wasn’t answering your question, you looked up only to see him staring intently at you. You blushed, immediately feeling self-conscious and you looked away from his intense gaze.

“Um, Dick?” You spoke quietly, not wanting to cut through the comfortable atmosphere. And most importantly you didn’t want to scare him because you knew he was trigger-happy.

The boy in question was in a trance, not speaking a word, it was difficult to tell if he was even blinking. Something comical in you wanted to shake your hand in front of his face to see if his eyes would shake back and forth like a cartoon character.

The thought made you chuckle and it brought him out of his trance.

“Did you change your lip balm?” He asked curiously and you froze, stumped at the question.

“What?”

“The colour looks different.” He answered like that would explain it but you didn’t know what surprised you more, the fact that he noticed that you changed lip balms, or the fact that he was being so blatant about it.

Something in you felt self-conscious about the fact that he was staring at you lips and so in a moment of insecurity, you pursed them, looking away before regaining your composure.

“Do you just stare at my lips all the time, Grayson?” You teased, hoping to gain some control and his face coloured, “Not all the time.”

“And to answer your question, yes.”

You’ll never know how badly Dick Grayson wanted to kiss you at that moment. How badly he wanted to hold you in his arms and just kiss you until he felt dizzy. 

And you’ll never know what it took for him to sit back down and turn back to his worksheet.

***

Two

You couldn’t help the groan the escaped your mouth as soon as you opened your eyes. Your head was pounding and your mouth was dry, like you had swallowed a mouthful of sand.

You couldn’t feel anything, not until you were pulled up from the ground, numbly lolling against the person who was making you sit upright.

“Easy there.” The boy soothed, rubbing your back and your eyes felt heavier the more you tried to open them.

“Robin?” You croaked out, burying yourself closer to him.

“Yeah, and as much as I like this, we can’t stay here for long.” He told, trying to pull you upright but you kept slumping.

“(S/H/N) come on, if we stay here any longer, we’ll be in danger.”

You tried shaking the dizziness, “Okay, okay, pull me up.”

You were immediately on your feet, relying on Robin to keep yourself upright until the spots in your vision cleared. It took you a second but he kept through your side the entire time, rubbing your back and supporting your weight.

Once you were able to focus, you looked around, realizing you couldn’t recognize your location, “Where are we?”

“Bialya. 6 months later.” He replied, beginning to lead you away, keeping a hold on your arm until you stopped swaying. You most likely had either a concussion or a heat stroke.

“What?”

“I don’t know what’s going on either but we’re gonna find out.” He sounded resolute and you nodded, finding some strength to keep pace beside him.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I just needed a few minutes. As soon as we get home, I’m gonna sleep for days.”

“You know in some countries it’s called a coma.” He teased and you chuckled, allowing him to increase the pace slightly as you fell into step beside him.

“Any reason you haven’t called someone yet?”

“Batman said to maintain radio silence at all times.” He replied but you could tell her was confused about it. The two of you were headed towards a location that he felt had been important enough to be marked on his GPS.

The sun soon stopped beating down on your heads and before long it was nightfall, but you were still walking towards this unknown destination. It was silent, but not awkward, unlike most of the times you spent with Robin which was not awkward, but definitely not silent.

Eventually the exhaustion began to creep up on you again and you started swaying in your steps again, “Rob, I’m sleepy.”

He sighed, pulling you closer, “I know you are; we just have to finish this mission and then we can go home.”

You held on to him, allowing him to lead the way as your eyes closed on their own.

“(S/H/N) you can’t sleep.”

“I’m not sleeping, just, resting my eyes.”

“Okay then keep talking to me.”

So, you did.

You mindlessly rambled on as he guided you through the desert. You talked about your teachers, food, music, anything that came to mind.

“You know I’ve never kissed anyone before?” You murmured and he froze for no longer than a second before he was walking again.

“I’d like to, but I haven’t. But I’d like to.” You spoke again, not noticing the way Robin seemed to stiffen as you kept talking, “But I haven’t, cuz I wanna kiss a guy I like. I’ve heard it’s more special that way.”

“What about me?”

“What about you?”

“What if I kissed you?”

“Well, um, well, I don’t know, I think I would really like it.” You said absentmindedly and a small smile grew on your face at the thought of kissing Robin. Unbeknownst to you, Robin was smiling beside you.

Robin knew that he was taking advantage of the state you were in to get answers and some part of him did feel guilty, but that didn’t stop his heart from soaring when he heard your answer. Though he maintained a cool front, truth was on the inside he was screaming.

He stopped, in the middle of the desert, underneath the moonlight and he wanted to kiss you. And you probably would have enjoyed it.

But your mouth, your stupid mouth, instead spoke up, “But it shouldn’t be right now. No, cuz I haven’t showered, and my lips are probably really dry cuz I’m thirsty. And I don’t want you to think I have gross lips.”

He chuckled, pulling you close to him and walking with you again, “No, we wouldn’t want that.”

*** 

Three

“You’re getting better, (S/H/N).” Commented Robin as you continued to spar in the training room. It was obvious that he was taking it easy on you because your pace was slower that he was used to.

And because you knew for a fact that if he was actually putting any effort then you would be on the ground in two seconds flat.

“Really? Does that mean you’re actually gonna start trying now?” You quipped, enjoying that this seemed more like a dance than sparring.

He laughed, “Not just yet. You need a little more practice.”

You swung at him and he dodged effortlessly, grabbing your arm and jabbing you in the elbow. The two of you continued to move around, dodging each other’s attacks and flowing comfortably around the training room.

This is usually how it would go until Robin got bored and floored you or you lost interest and just walked off the mat while Robin complained about you being a sore loser. He was right. You knew he was better than you at combat, but it didn’t mean you enjoyed getting beat up by him.

Even if he never actually hit you.

Even though the two of you were fighting with a quick pace, you couldn’t help but feel relaxed. Robin had that effect on you, you always felt safe around him.

Even though the boy before you was incredibly annoying, you couldn’t help but find a fondness in spending time with him. You liked him sure, but you weren’t completely sure if it was platonic or romantic as of yet.

Still, you spent most of your time with him on the team since he was the same age as you. It was one of the many things you had in common.

“After training do you want to get something to eat?” You panted, narrowly dodging a kick and you managed to grab his leg, applying a force at his knee before flipping him. He managed to land on his feet (not that you were surprised) and swung at you again.

“What do you wanna eat?” He asked with a normal voice and you narrowed your eyes at him. You had been sparing for 15 minutes now and he hadn’t even broken a sweat. You, on the other hand, could use a shower.

“Your pick.” You told him and he grinned. A blinding grin that would’ve taken your breath if you hadn’t already been wheezing like an old lady.

“Let’s get going then.” He said and you froze knowing what would come next. Robin took advantage of the moment you let your guard down and the next thing you knew, you were staring up at him from your place on the floor.

He was laughing at you, but you couldn’t hear it over the pounding of blood in your ears.

It took him a while to realize that you weren’t laughing with hm before he glanced down at you and his heart skipped a beat. 

Man, you were beautiful.

Your lips were wet from constantly licking them, hair splayed out beneath you and an attractive flush was creeping up your neck. You thought you looked like a panting hippo but in his eyes, he had never seen anyone more beautiful. 

There was an attraction between you, so powerful and magnetic that neither of you could resist and he leaned closer as your chest heaved. His hands rested on either side of your head and yours were gripping onto his arms.

His lips didn’t so much as brush against your when the door of the training room slammed open and in came the rest of the team. The two of you jumped from each other, almost like the electricity from before managed to shock you.

You mumbled something about hitting the showers before you practically ran out, groaning in embarrassment when you heard the team titter like 5th grade girls.

“I want pizza!” Robin called out as you ducked into the locker room, deciding that a cold shower might be the perfect remedy for your skin that still felt like it was on fire.

*** 

Four

It wasn’t surprising to any of you that M’gann would choose one of the most overrated, cheesy movies there was for movie night. Well, movie morning, since last night the team was called on an important mission.

Now while you had no problem just shutting your mouth and enjoying a romance movie once in a while, you were also stuck between a bunch of boys who made it their mission to make sure you wouldn’t.

So, every five minutes they took to shouting, hollering, groaning about why this wouldn’t make any sense in real life.

You tried throwing pillows at them, turning the volume up, even kicking them off the sofa but nothing helped.

‘If you can’t beat them, join them.’

“This guy is such a wuss.” You commented and Wally high-fived you for joining the team while M’gann complained about you betraying them. The movie was about a man who for some reason refused to go after a girl who very obviously liked him and he very obviously liked.

She flirted with him, and they even went on dates sometimes but when she asked him about having an actual relationship he said no and then proceeded to get upset that she was hanging out with other people.

Red flag much?

You found yourself watching the movie with an intent you hadn’t before, wondering if you’d have to go through that. If you’d ever be denied the love of someone who loved you because of his own pride or ignorance.

“If he likes her then he should just tell her.” You murmured wistfully, watching the two characters on the screen and not noticing the way the boys looked at you. Truth be told, you hadn’t even realized you were speaking.

“He should tell her, huh?” Asked Wally and you could tell from the teasing tone in your voice that he was trying to make a joke but you answered him honestly, not taking your eyes off the screen even once.

“Yeah, in my opinion the story will only get good once he stops beating around the bush and kisses her.”

Ignoring the way, the guys snickered at your answer you just slouched in your seat, rolling your eyes to the ceiling, “But the guy is such a wuss it’ll probably happen in the last 10 minutes so what’s the point.”

You didn’t pay attention to the rest of the movie, losing interest as the character continued to get more and more stupid. Instead, you opted for playing games on Robin’s wrist computer.

After the movie was over, everyone started to retire to their own rooms. You were eating some leftover pizza and took to cleaning the mess the rest of the team left behind. It was, after all, your turn on the chore list.

“You were right, you know.”

You jumped, dropping whatever it was in your hands. Robin winced at the bigger mess that you made before kneeling down and helping you clean it up.

“You’re so jumpy, one couldn’t even imagine that you go on covert missions every other night.” He teased, dodging the handful of popcorn you threw at him.

“You bother me enough on those missions alone don’t you think? Any reason that you’ve come to annoy me now? Or was it just to give me a heart attack?”

“You were right.” He said softly, throwing away the empty bottles of Gatorade and coke.

“I’m right about a lot of things Robin. You’re gonna have to be more specific.”

He grasped your wrist, stopping you from grabbing the stack of empty pizza boxes and you turned to him, the quip dying on your tongue from his serious expression.

He leaned close enough for you to see the reflection of yourself in his sunglasses. The proximity between the two of you was electrifying and addicting.

“The story will only get good when the guy stops beating around the bush and kisses the girl.”

You swallowed, hands settling on his and you let him pull you closer.

“Team to gather in the training room immediately.”

You sighed, pulling away from him, “Mood ruined.”

“Batman has the worst timing.” He grumbled and you giggled, grabbing his hand.

“Maybe next time, Boy Wonder.”

***

Five 

“It’s gonna be okay. It’s gonna be okay.” Robin chanted over and over again to you but you knew what was going to happen. His voice cracking and the tears flowing down his face was a good indicator as well. 

You bit your lip so hard it bled, grunting when you tried to move. It hurt. It hurt a blinding, searing, burning pain that made your vision turn blurry and the edges of your vision turn white. 

“I can’t move.” You whispered tearfully and he shook his head, tightening his hold on you. His grip hurt but you still let him cling onto you for you knew it would be the last time he could. 

The pain wouldn’t last long. 

“We can carry you.” 

“You don’t have the strength,” You told him softly, cupping his cheek to make him look at you. Blood was dripping down the side of your face and tears were streaming down your cheeks, “Even if you did, it hurts too much to move, Robin. You have to leave me here.” 

He shook his head stubbornly and against his control sobs began slipping past his lips and your heart clenched to hear him sound so heartbroken. But then again you felt the same way. He held onto you tighter and you caught a glimpse of the timer on his wrist. 

There wasn’t much left. 

“You have to go.” You told him again, “You are all that Earth has left. You have to go.”

“I can’t leave you.” 

Your body was wracking with sobs and you raised a bloody hand to his cheek, wiping away his tears to no avail, “I love you, please forgive me.” 

You turned to Kid Flash who was watching the two of you. He was crying as well; his chest was shaking and wavering and you tried to give him a brave smile but a sob broke through you. 

“Take him away from here.” 

Wally grabbed Robin and he struggled in his grip, trying to get to you, crying for you. He managed to push Wally’s arms off him to make a break for you. To tell you he loved you too. To kiss you for the first and last time. To say goodbye. 

But just as he reached you, Kid Flash grabbed him and super-sped away, all while Robin was crying in his arms. He saw your body receding, trapped against the wall where the guards had pierced you with an energy spear. 

The last thing he saw was your tearful smile and he thought you were the bravest to be smiling through so much pain. 

In the end, neither Kid Flash nor Robin made it out alive. 

The mothership exploded before either of them could escape. 

***

One 

Explosions felt a lot colder than you expected. 

All you felt was a cold breeze after the explosives went off and your eyes shot open, gasping for air. You recognized the ceiling of the cave and felt the cold sweat drip down your body. You didn’t know how or why but you knew one thing.

You had lived. 

Tears immediately sprang to your eyes and you couldn’t even pull yourself to sit upright before you started crying. Black Canary was at your side, pulling you into her arms as you sobbed, thanking whatever divine being that had been listening for helping you. 

You were alive. 

Your eyes screwed tightly shut as you just held onto her, feeling such overwhelming happiness that it felt heart-breaking. 

When you finally got the courage to open your eyes and see where you were, you saw your team staring back at you with concern on their faces. You knew then that you’d never take advantage of them again. You’d never take them for granted and you’d cherish them from now onwards. 

And then your teary eyes caught onto Robins figure who was the only one who had left the bed that they woke up in. Your chest just hurt at the sight of him, regretting the way you had sent him off but also knowing that there was no other way. 

So, you shakily pushed off Canary’s grip and on wobbling legs you stumbled towards him, slumping against his weak stance before grabbing his collar and slanting your lips on his.

Finally.

He responded almost immediately, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer. The kiss was sweet, but salty as your tears mixed on your lips. 

Your heart was full when you pulled away from him, leaning on his shoulder. His arms stayed around you, needing to feel you breathing against him. You met eyes with Wally’s wet ones and he sent you a shaky smirk, “Took you long enough.” 

You giggled tearfully, as Dick buried his head closer to your neck, and rubbing his back comfortingly, “The story was getting boring.” 

#young justice #young justice imagine #dick grasyon #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x you #dick grayson #dick grayson oneshot #robin x y/n #robin x reader #robin oneshot #young justice oneshot #dc one shot #dc x y/n #dc x reader #dc universe #dc comics

[winchesterxxi]

To Make you Mine (Din Djarin x Reader)

Rating: PG-13

Type: Fluff

Summary: Din got the darksaber and as we know he can’t yield it to Bo Katan, it needs to be won in a fight. He doesn’t want the darksaber to land in Bo’s hands because she doesn’t sit right with him, so he suggests you take it, along with an interesting proposal

Word Count: 1.9k

Warnings: CH.16 SPOILERS, graphical descriptions of violence, mentions of blood, implications of sex

A/N: This idea came to me in one of my many maladaptative daydreaming moments a few weeks ago so bear with me

MASTERPOST | REQUEST HERE | KO-FI

✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸

You were trying to find a sense of normality.

After yours and Din’s life had been turned upside down just the week before, with losing your home and giving away your kid all in less than a couple of days, you had to go somewhere and deal with things. And you knew the Mandalorian by your side would never willingly take a single day off.

But with the help of a newly acquired ally, who also happens to have become the newest leader of Jabba’s Palace, Boba Fett, you managed to get in the possession of a small A-47 Airspeeder. Having a friend feared by all of Tatooine had its advantages.

You flew the fighter to what you knew to be a safe place to rest, across the galaxy: the forest moon of Endor.

You landed three days ago, and you and Din have been living a nomad life, using the ship to sleep in and igniting fire every day and night to cook and keep yourselves warm. You could’ve easily settled on a planet with a more hospitality feel to it; staying in an inn. But you knew this is what you both needed – fresh air away from everyone.

Despite Din’s way of dealing with the past events was to either cry alone or keep quiet, you always found intense physical activity the best way to blow off some steam. Tragic events had a way of making you angry, and this is the coping mechanism you found.

Slipping out of the small cot in which you were pressed against Din’s chest, you get some sturdier clothes on and get out of the ship, and run in big circles until you feel tired.

Once you were in your 15th lap, you couldn’t really tell anymore at this point, Din descends from the ship, full armor on which catches your eye.

“What’s wrong?” you yell so that he can hear you from how far you are.

From where he stands, he simply motions you to come closer with his left hand. You stop running and head in his direction instead, regaining your breath.

“What’s so important, you couldn’t wait for me to run my laps?” you question him, letting your hair loosen itself from the tight ponytail in which you had put it in to prevent it from getting in your way.

“I was thinking about something, and I’ve come to a decision.” His modulated voice explains calmly.

“Okay… and what decision have you exactly come to?”

“I don’t want the dark saber.”

“Yeah, you made that pretty clear to everyone three days ago.” you frown up at him, not understanding where the conversation was going.

“And I don’t trust Bo Katan.” You nod along, following his words.

“I want you to have it.”

You almost choke on your own spit when he communicates his decision to you, completely aloof as to why he would’ve thought of such a stupid thing.

“Are you out of your kriffing mind?!” you practically yell at him, waving your hands in the air, striding away from him to calm yourself down. You take a deep breath before turning to face him, still a few feet away. “What in the galaxy makes you think that I would ever do that?! Plus, you do remember that if I were to get that thing,” you gesture to his right hand, which has since reached for the dark saber “we would have to fight over it. As in, beat each other up.”

Din doesn’t dare to get closer to you, simply talking from where he is standing.

“It’s not a thing, it’s the single most powerful weapon in all of the Mandalorian history and yes, I do know that.” His helmet nods down and you finally connect the dots as to why he was in full armor when there was virtually no one on this moon besides the both of you. You sigh and your shoulders lower. You can’t believe that you’re actually considering this, hand coming up to press against your forehead.

“What’s in it for me besides the pain in the ass of having to rule all the Mandalorians in the galaxy?”

“I’ll marry you.” Once again your body as if goes into shock, stiffening up every possible muscle and your eyes widening.

“You -…” you stop yourself, before you scream, quickly striding over to him “You’ll what now?”

“If you can win the dark saber, I’ll marry you, you’ll become part of my clan, you’ll become a Mandalorian, and no other will be able to oppose you as their ruler.”

If before your heart was beating faster than ever with a mix of rage, confusion, and just overall annoyance, it has now sunk to the bottom of your stomach.

You and Din shared a connection beyond words, having spent countless nights together, both in union acting as guardians to Grogu and if anything ever happened to him you know you wouldn’t know what to do with yourself. So many were the times when you thought you’d lose him for the crazy stunts he has pulled to save the people he loves.

It was a love that didn’t need to be spoken, rather felt or shown, but now you weren’t so sure it was reciprocated as his answer bore a purely practical solution to a problem. Not a declaration in any way.

“Oh… Yeah, that makes sense.” You can’t hide the way your body slouched slightly and your face dropped at his answer. Din walks over to you, his chest tight at the words that he wants to say to you.

“And…” He places his free gloved hand upon your cheek, causing you to look up and meet his hidden gaze. If you could see through the dark visor of his helmet you would you could see the gentle smile that made his eyes crinkle at the corners as he looked adoringly at you, maybe soon “obviously, because I love you, mesh’la.”

You take a quiet breath in as your heart skips a beat at his confession. The words he’s wanted to say to you for so long and that you have longed to listen to for longer than you’d care to admit.

“I’ve lost too many things in my life, and if there is the chance for me to take you like a piece of myself for the rest of my life, I’m going to take it.” He brings his helmet down to meet your forehead and you take a deep breath before stepping backward and away from him, crouching down into a fighting stance, as you bring your hands up to be close to your face, closing them into two fists.

“Are you sure?”  You ask “What if I hurt you?”

“Give me your best.” Is all he says, igniting the saber at the same time as he reaches for the spear lodged in the back of his cape and throwing it in the direction of your chest. You grab it before it falls to the floor, handling it the way you had been instructed all those months ago when you insisted the man standing in front of you to teach you to defend yourself. “I know I’ve taught you well.”

The corner of your mouth lifts in a smile and you speed up to where he is, bringing the beskar speer down to meet the saber’s glowing blade as the sound of the clash echoes around you.

You breathe in before moving the spear to try and strike him from a different angle, moving forward as he backs away at the same time, grunting at the effort, all possible friendliness within the combat having completely flow away.

Once you finally think you have a good aim, he steps out of your trajectory, causing you to stumble forward with the momentum of the blow you were about to deliver.

“Think before striking, Y/n. We’ve done this before!” his voice comes heavy and sharp through the modulator in his helmet. Turning back at him, you are panting before running back to him, lifting your spear as if to strike him, but as his blade goes up to meet your weapon you slump below it and turn back, immediately hitting him on his defenseless back, in between the beskar plates.

He groans in pain and stumbles forward.

“Faster, Din. We’ve done this before.” You mock his earlier statement, smirking at him.

Oh. The man is pissed off. You can’t see his face, but having known him for so long you can tell by his body language that he is no longer padding around the playground. He means business.

He charges at you full force, but you block his blow with your spear, rotating and pushing it away from you at the same time, both of your weapons fly to the side.

You both look at the weapons, before looking at each other in sync, knowing exactly that you were going to try and go for the saber.

Din runs from you but you quickly catch up to him, advantages of him being in full beskar armor, weighing down on him and you only sporting some training clothes. You throw one of your legs around his waist and the other over his shoulder, rotating with his neck in the center so that you’re in front of him, and you pull your body weight to the side, bringing his own down with you.

You both fall to the ground with a heavy thud, his side crushing the leg that landed under him as you let out a cry. But you fight through the pain as you look to your side and notice that the place you are is only a few feet away from where the weapons landed. Holding him in a chuck hold with your legs, you hastily reach for the saber’s handle and switch yourself from underneath him, straddling his chest and holding the blade dangerously close to his throat.

You are both heavily breathing, you visibly sweating and his grip on you loosens as he holds his hands close to his face, surrendering.

You shakily exhale as a smile makes its way onto your lips and you nod in amusement, standing up from where you were.

Looking down at your lover, you extend him your free hand, which he takes as you pull him up to your level. He hovers over you as your right-hand turns the dark saber off, both chests still heaving up and down.

He brings his forehead down, shoulders slouching as he bows to the new Mand’alor.

“Ner alor.” My leader. “Mand’alor.” Sole Ruler.

You smile up at him once he straightens back to his full height.

“Now,” you grin with your tongue in peeking behind your teeth, and hanging the dark saber’s handle to your belt “If I remember correctly, I heard something about getting married... am I correct, my loyal subject?”

You walk slowly up to him, swaying your hips in the course.

His arms come to rest upon your waist, his voice letting out an amused hum and you just know he is smiling like an idiot underneath the beskar.

“And if I remember correctly, according to the Creed, that means that all this…” you tap with your pointer finger on the beskar of his helmet, chest and arms finalizing with a light tap of your nail against his crotch protection “gets to come off. Right?”

His grip on your waist tightens.

“Let’s go inside to find out.”

✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸ ✸

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@weirdowithnobeardo

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#i suck at writing action sequences #i'm sorry #winchesterxxi #star wras #din djarin #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #pedro pascal x reader #star wars

[autumnleaves1991-blog]

You know that I'm soft for Ezra, like always. Sooo I was thinking I could request him! Maybe something with the prompt "Yell at me again, and I'll give you a real reason to scream" Take that however you want. I love you, sweet girl, it's always fun to see my bestie create

A/N: Anything for you my love. 

Pairing: Ezra x F! Reader

Warnings: 18 + Only for rough sex, language, mentions of pregnancy, and angst. But a happy ending, I promise. 

*************************

“You promised! You fucking promised Ezra!” Angry tears stream down your cheeks, and you try your best to breathe through them. “This last job was going to be it, no more prospecting! We could start a family, have a life! But instead, you took another stint on the Green!” 

He’s as angry as you are, his nostrils flaring, “I promise, Little Bird, we will be swimming in riches when I return! We are going after the Queen of all aurlec deposits! I’ve worked my whole life; I need to finish this!” 

“You will never be satisfied,” you turn away from him, your voice hollow, “I will never be enough.” 

“Birdie, listen to me! I’m doing this for us,” he follows close behind, “why can’t you see that.” 

You slap your hands on the kitchen counter and turn with a glare, “this is not about us! This is about you! Chasing some stupid fable, there is no Queen’s nest, or someone would have found it by now. Why can’t you see?! I just want you to be home, stay with me, please.” 

You step towards him, putting both hands on his cheeks and keeping his eyes on you. He sighs and closes his eyes, hands coming to wrap around your wrists. “Birdie, I’m going to the Green.” 

When he opens them, his eyes harden, watching you take a step back, hands retreating from his face. Your lip quivers, and you bite down, “then I can’t promise I’ll be here when you get back.” 

He takes a step towards you, and you take a step back. Him advancing on you until your back hits the wall, he leans down close, his breath warm on your cheek, “so that’s it?” His nose grazes your cheek, “you’re going to tarnish our whole life together; leave me, a man without a Queen.” 

“You’re making me do this,” you whisper, turning away from him. His lips are pressing softly to your cheek, and you bite down hard on your lip to prevent the whimper. “You left me first.” 

“But I’m coming back, coming home to you,” he groans, pressing his lips to your neck. His hand pressing into the wall as he leans in closer, “you’re leaving me and not coming back. Or did I misunderstand that, Birdie?” 

You push on his chest and step away from him, “fuck you, you will not make me feel bad when YOU are the one leaving.” He tries to retake a step towards you, but you hold out your hand, “No! I will not let you convince me otherwise! I’m leaving you, Ezra; I’ve had enough!” 

He growls, “yell at me again, Birdie, and I’ll give you a real reason to scream.” 

“Oh yeah?” You take a step towards him, pressing a finger to his chest, “what are you going to do?” 

“This,” he closes the space between you, slanting his mouth over yours. It’s not a gentle kiss between lovers but a kiss out of passion and anger, a mesh of tongues and teeth. You gasp when he slams your back against the wall, and he rucks up your dress; you moan low when he dips his fingers down your panties to find you soaked. “I always knew you had a thing for quarreling Birdie; let me make you feel good.” 

All you can do is nod, allowing Ezra to take the lead and give your pleasure. His fingers are skilled as he circles your clit, his tongue dipping between your lips to taste you with a quiet groan. You’ve always been a quiet lover, Ezra making enough noise for the both of you. “Cum for me, Birdie, sing for me,” he mumbles, biting down on your shoulder hard enough to leave a mark. 

You tighten around his fingers that he dips into your cunt and let out a gasp. He keeps your right leg wrapped around his waist, the left on the floor for balance, and he quickly shifts down to unbutton his pants. His mouth fused to your own as he swallows your sighs of pleasure. When he notches his cock at your entrance, you only have a moment before he’s snapping his hips inside you to the hilt. 

It’s quick and dirty, nothing like the languid lovemaking he usually offers. No, this is an act of passion, desperation, and fear. You can almost feel his fear, drowning the two of you in the unknown of what’s to come. And when you flutter around him with a whimper, cumming on his cock, and him cumming deep inside you, the two of you are silent. 

He stays there for a moment longer, your leg beginning to cramp from being held up for so long. “Ezra, I need-“ but he already knows. Slowly he lowers you back down to the floor, his hands on your hips, lips on your forehead. He presses them together, taking deep, shuddering breaths. 

The tears fall down his face and sit on his cheeks like fresh spring rain. “What-“

“Please,” his voice cracks, “please don’t leave me. I need you, Birdie. I know I fractured your trust by accepting this job, but I mean it, after this one, I am done—no more prospecting. We will move onto one of those smaller moons and live by the sea in a house we own, raise a couple of cubs. Just please, please don’t leave me.” 

“You are a fool, Ezra,” you whisper, his head rising, his eyes meeting yours, the question on his lips. “I may be upset with you, but I’d never leave you. I love you too damn much. Even when you piss me off.” 

“You promise to be here when I get back?” 

“I promise. Just make sure you come back.” 

************** 

Ezra stands outside the door, his feet shifting nervously back and forth. It was excruciating on his body to walk up the fifteen flights of stairs to reach the door of his former home. But he didn’t have the guts to use the elevator; he needed time to think. 

A million thoughts run through his head. He was supposed to be gone six months; it’d been two years. Did you wait? Or did you realize he’d befallen a terrible fate and moved on?” His heart pounds, and he feels like he’s going to vomit when he raises his left hand to the door. 

He knocks three times and waits, and waits, and waits. The blood fills his ears, and his heart shatters; every moment on that god-forsaken moon, he’d dreamt of you, thought of you, and you were gone. Nothing more than a memory. 

“Are you looking for the girl?” Ezra turns to the older man coming out of the lift. 

“Yes,” he stutters, “do you know where she is?” 

“She and that boy are off, something about going to the park,” he tosses his hands forward, “she’s always out with him somewhere.” 

Ezra can’t breathe, so you did move on without him; he needs to see. “Which park?” 

*******

The sun is bright today, one of the few warm days that befell this planet. You’d always wanted to move somewhere like this every day, near the ocean. He was going to give you that, everything and more. 

He’s not sure what he’s going to find in this park, but he continues to walk around. He passes lovers in a warm embrace, older men playing holo-chess, and children running in the distance, climbing onto one of the giant metal playgrounds. 

That’s when he sees you, and he falls in love all over again. 

**************

You turn your head; your body stiffens as you search the sea of faces. Your skin hasn’t prickled like this since he left. 

He’s dead now. 

Two years in the Green with no communication, everyone told you, you were a fool for staying here. A fool. That’s what you’d called him that night when you promised him you’d stay and wait for him and a fool you were. 

You drop your head and feel the burn of tears. The feeling of being watched burns, but you ignore it. You’re not alone anymore; you smile as your son toddles over to you, his hands grabby towards your legs. Fuck, he looked just like his daddy. 

A distinctive nose, warm brown eyes, and hair with just a tussle of blonde in the front. You didn’t realize it was genetic as if you had any doubt who the baby’s father was. Three months after he’d gone, you found out you were pregnant, and you tried to get ahold of him. Even trying to buy passage on a ship to the Green moon yourself, but no one would take you, especially someone in your condition. 

So you waited, like a fool. 

“Hello, love,” you coo, reaching for him and tucking him close. The sweet scent of baby oil and lavender lotion clinging to his skin. “Do you wanna get going home? I’m going to make us some macaroni and cheese for dinner.” 

“Mac, Mac, Mac,” he chants with a toothy grin. 

“Let’s go home then,” you hoist him higher on your shoulder and lean down to grab the diaper bag, but another hand shoots out first. You slowly raise your eyes and almost drop the baby as you gasp. “Ezra?” 

“Hello, Birdie,” he mumbles out the words, never breaking his eyes from yours. 

“Burd, burd, burd,” your son repeats, and Ezra's eyes shift to him. 

“Is this?” His throat catches, struggling for air, “Is this, my son?” He swallows down his sobs, the relief of finally having you so close and finding out the boy you’re always with is not another man but his son. 

You let out a watery giggle, “you can’t tell.” 

He laughs, his tears flowing freely down his cheeks, “oh Birdie, I’m so sorry, I wasn’t here for you.” 

You take a step towards him, reaching a hand out for his cheek, “but you are here now, hell, you’ve always been here. Where have you been? I have so many questions.” 

“And I will answer all of them, but first, please let me kiss you, Little Bird because I have dreamt of nothing but your lips for two years.” You smile, the salt of your tears in your mouth, as you sniffle. 

You put down the baby and reach for him, “I’ve dreamt of you too, Ezra.” His lips finally touch yours, tears and sobs escape your chest as you hold one another for the first time in two years. “I love you,” you sigh, “so fucking much, Ezra, I never stopped. I kept my promise; I never left.”

@lunarthoughts @jedi-mando @idreamofboobear @aerolanya @rebelliouscat @darklingveracruz @marvelprincess1994 @thirstworldproblemss @spacelatinoss  @martellthemandalor @kesskirata @waatermelon-sugaar @jitterbugs927 @helga1031  @greeneyedblondie44 @mamacitapascal @oldstuffnewstuff @yespolkadotkitty @heythere-mel @justanotherblonde23 @artsymaddie @anetteaneta @aellynera @lucifer- @houseofthirst @phoenixhalliwell @chicken-ona-stick @agirllovespancakes @ghostwiththemostbitch @the-purity-pen @paintballkid711 @wasicskosgirl @fantasticcopeaglepasta @sarahjkl82-blog @boxdyeblonde @rosiefridayrogersunday @yeah-seems-legit  @mimimi-stuff  @ladyblogger-margie @memyselfandellasworld @peterhollandkait @itspdameronthings @emmy626 @luv-nd-serenity @randomness501  @littlebopper96 @alexmarie29 @hell-is-my-second-home666 @thisshipwillsail316 @madslorian @no-droids-on-sunday @glixxr @sfr99 @pedro-pastel @we-can-be-himbos  @sleep-tight1 @sarhabee @its--fandom--darling @im-an-adult-ish @princess76179 @demoncrypt1066 @the-dendrophile-bookworm @amneris21 @deliciouslydisturbed365 @princessxkenobi @Kirstg42  @ew-erin  @maievdenoir @withakindheartx

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[samadiw]

SOULMATES 🖤🔥

Sneak Peek into my upcoming fic 😍

.

.

The hunt for hocruxes take longer than expected, the trio are well into their twenties but they tirelessly continue their efforts to vanquish The Dark Lord.

It is by an unfortunate misunderstanding that Ron gives away their location.

Giving her friends a chance to escape and continue their journey, Hermione makes the ultimate sacrifice and surrenders herself to widely proclaimed Angel of Death.

Her terms of imprisonment are strange and baffling to her.

She is to be well cared for and educated. Her captor, Draco Malfoy and his family are entrusted with her care, a decision that does not sit well with the ice blonde man now nearing twenty five years of age.

Voldemort has plans for her, he harbours a strong infatuation that he keeps hidden, except when they are alone.

He keeps his advances to subtle touches and lingering glances but does nothing else to thwart the headstrong woman he holds captive.

Hermione devises a plan, she decides to seduce the young handsome Malfoy into bending to her will and letting her leave.

She entices him with her clothes, secret glances and lingering touches but her advances go unnoticed, it frustrates her that he is immune to her charms.

He notices her alright, it takes all his will power to not kneel at her feet and claim her for himself.

She looks, smells and probably tastes like a forbiddenly enticing fruit.

Hermione puts her plan into motion on his birthday and bites off more than she can chew.

Her body betrays her shamelessly and he takes his birthday present in the form of her orgasm on his tongue but after the deed he leaves her to mercy of the shadows with her cum dripping down her thighs as a reminder of the dangerous game she's playing.

Her existence isn't harrowing, it's the best one could hope for.

It isnt until Narcissa's famous Malfoy Christmas ball and the untimely appearance of Theodore Nott that Draco loses his composure and cracks.

T : "Is that Hermione Granger?"

D : "Yes."

T : "The ugly duckling has blossomed into a beautiful swan."

D : "If you are into that sort of thing."

T : "You have eyes, Malfoy."

He did have eyes and Granger looked stunning in a flowing dark green gown that hugged her neck in a high halter and left her entire back exposed teasing the rise of her shapely arse.

It was obvious his mother had taken it upon herself to dress Granger for the occasion. Malfoy family jewels glistened around the former Gryffindor's neck and wrists.

He didn't appreciate Theo's lustful eyes roving over her body.

T : "I fancy a dance."

D : "She's for show only."

T : "Is that jealousy I hear?"

D : "Granger's fate is in the hands of The Dark Lord."

T : "Indeed, but excuse me, I want to get to know the most beautiful woman in the room."

D : "Theo, I'm warning you."

T : "Fuck off, Malfoy, you have no control over my actions."

Draco simmers in unadulterated fury as he watches Theo approach Hermione and engage her in conversation.

The bloody nerve of her, he narrows his eyes and glares as she touches Theo's arm and throws her head back in laughter.

Hermione locks eyes with a pair of icy swirls of grey, he looks positively good enough to eat.

Handsome is a word wasted on Draco Malfoy such is his presence, she gravitates towards him unwaveringly but tonight a willing good looking man is paying her attention and it feels refreshing and oddly satisfying.

Theo leads Hermione to the dance floor and pulls her close to his body, his fingers tease her exposed skin, she willingly moves in and let's her hand slide around his neck.

She peeks a look over Theo's shoulder at Draco, he continues to stare at them unblinkingly, his body radiates anger and a reddish glow emits from his fingertips.

From afar, Draco watches Theo's slow movements on the woman swaying in his arms.

Theo bends to kiss Hermione"s cheek and Draco stiffens.

The song ends, Theo kisses Hermione's hand and with the promise of a walk under the moonlight, they part ways.

She grabs a flute of champagne and walks into the wide terrace. The night sky is particularly pretty with many stars scattered across the heavens.

Her thoughts linger on Ron and Harry.

Soon, I'll be free.

A voice of pure steel cuts through her thoughts.

D : "Having fun, are we?"

H : "The best one can hope in prison."

D : "Did you enjoy him touching you?"

H : "As a matter of fact, I did."

H : "It gets so lonely and Theo is a distraction I wholeheartedly welcome."

H : "He says he's spending the night, perhaps we can get to know each other better."

D : "Like hell..."

Draco closes the distance between them, pulls her roughly to his chest and apparates them away.

Their feet touch solid ground and Hermione pushes Draco away angrily.

H : "Get away from me, don't fucking touch me."

Draco tosses his jacket aside and begins to unbutton his black shirt.

D : "You don't mean that."

He stalks towards her purposely and Hermione steps back at once.

H : "I'm warning you, Malfoy."

D : "I've been meaning to do this all night."

He grabs her around the waist, pulls her to him and claims her swollen lips hungrily.

Hermione stills as his kisses invade her body and mind but she has some fight left in her.

She struggles, manages to free a hand, bringing it across she slaps him hard with all her might.

The slap echoes through the quiet confinement of the room, her fingermarks stain his pale skin and even in the dim light it stands out.

Draco touches his lip and his fingers glisten with blood, he grins at the woman in front of him.

Her fiery spirit turned him on, but when he took her it would be with her consent and not otherwise.

Hermione stares at her trembling hand and then at the imposing man before her.

She breathes rapidly to calm her shattered nerves.

He turns to leave but a small hand grabs his arm in an ironclad grip, he turns to face her and is momentarily blinded by her mane of thick brown hair.

Hermione grabs Draco by the collar and kisses him fervently.

Their need urgent, they shed their clothes and caress and touch every inch of their naked bodies.

She is impressed by his length and girth, the sight fills her with a sensation she is not familiar with.

It presses into the skin of her inner thigh and she closes her eyes in anticipation.

He trails his fingers along her body, tracing the luscious curves of her full body.

Draco sucks on the delicate skin on her neck, he grabs hold of his rock hard cock and guides it into her entrance.

Without a second thought, he rams into her hoping to make a lasting impression, the wanting to stand out from her former lovers is strong.

Her fingers dig into his back and expensive sheets, a pained moan rolls off her tongue.

A whimper follows and Draco stills as her tight walls clamp down around his dick and the tip tears through a barrier.

He brings his head up and stares at the woman beneath him.

Words desert him....

D : "You're a virgin."

He had already taken her, Hermione almost let's out a laugh.

Boldly, she locks eyes with him and runs her fingers through his silky fine locks.

H : "Not anymore."

D : "Granger, fuck...why didn't you tell me?"

H : "Does it matter?

D : "Yes, I shouldn't have been your first."

H : "Why? What difference does it make?"

D : "Forgive me."

H : "There's nothing to forgive, I wanted this."

H : "I want you."

He claims her lips passionately.

D : "Everything about you is special."

D : "I want to ravish you slowly."

H : "Finish what you started, Draco."

Hearing his name coming out her mouth was explosive, it went down to his core.

He slows his pace and pleasures her until they are bathed in sweat and completely spent.

Draco withdraws reluctantly, throws his long legs off the bed and strides naked into the massive ensuite.

He opens the gold plated tap, takes his cock in his hand and stares at it.

The tip is covered with blood and semen.

Her blood, the evidence of her virginity and purity.

It was pure and untainted, not a drop of mud or discoloration to it.

She was his.

It was nothing like he had ever experienced, he was well versed in bedding a woman, but this, being with her felt as if he was reborn from the ashes.

The roaring feelings from his core scares him, it paralyzes him and he holds onto the porcelain sink to steady himself.

The generations old magic flowing through his veins speak to him, it pulls at the strings of his heart and propels him to her.

Their union is an unexpected one, a forbidden love in dark times.

Draco narrows his eyes at his relection and smirks, he would protect her, cherish her and love her with all his being.

Hermione touches her body, it was mere minutes but she craved him again, her heart aches for his presence, she couldn't understand what was happening but it felt glorious.

The need to be surrounded by his warmth engulfed her, she closes her eyes, throws her head back and groans in frustration.

Large hands palm her ripened breasts and teeth graze her sensitive skin.

He pushes his throbbing cock into her tight cunt and pleasured moans escape their lips.

He growls protectively, "Mine."

She sighs in content, "Yours, always."

#dramione #draco and hermione #draco x hermione #hermione granger #draco lucius malfoy #dramionefandom #dramionefanart #dramione smut #dramione fanfic #ficlet #draco #forbiddenlovers #soulmates

[needleanddead]

hmmm. if I remember right, you've mentioned Lucas maybe leaving the door unlocked at some point, to see if his captive spouse would try to leave?

if I've got that right, consider the following: He gets up, and they aren't there. The door's open slightly. He just starts to lose his shit (probably), goes out the door, and they're just.. there. Sitting by the cabin, enjoying the morning fresh air, smiling lightly up at him after a moment.

sorry anon, you lit a small fire in me and it said 'time to write'

warnings: mentions of cannibalism, kidnapping, forced (sfw) intimacy with a captor, weapons, talk of violence/murder

He had such high hopes for you.

Every day that’s passed, he feels like he’s fallen a little bit more in love. The way you don’t so much as flinch when he puts his hands on your waist. The way you listen to him rapt and attentive when he tells you exactly how to prepare the cuts of meat he brings you – hell, he thinks you must know what kind of meat they are by now, but you haven’t pitched a fit the way some of the others have. The way you smile at him, the way that your presence around him makes him feel light and content in a way he hasn’t felt in years--

The unlocked door isn’t a test that many make it to, and it’s a test that none so far have passed, but it’s a necessary one nonetheless.

He has to know that you’re staying with him because you love him the way he loves you. He has to know that, even with the temptation of escape right in front of you, you’d rather stay right where you are.

He’d . . . he’d honestly thought that you were different.

You waking up before him is not a rare occurrence; you have slept skittishly since he took you in, and even more skittishly since he has begun to sleep beside you. He’s a gentleman, he tells himself; so he never goes further than an arm slung over you, pulling you into him, your head tucked beneath his chin. He’d forgotten how warm other people could be. Your presence is soothing. He sleeps better than he has in a very long time, with you there beside him.

Sometimes when he’s woken up after you, you’ve already been in the kitchen – and Lucas’s breath catches every time, at the sight of you illuminated by morning sunlight with the scent of eggs frying and not-actually-bacon in the pan. Your smile in these moments has felt like home.

So . . . domestic. So perfect. Like a fantasy dropped right into his lap, even as he wraps his arms around you and breathes in the scent of your hair and you stiffen just a little. That can be written away; you’re not expecting the force of his embrace, you’re still half asleep, a hundred other reasons flicker across his mind as he ignores the most obvious one.

(Forced embrace by your kidnapper is not something to be relaxed into.)

He remembers the unlocked door, though; the key still in the keyhole, as if he has merely forgotten about it. As if he has gotten too comfortable with your presence to think you would ever dream of running away from him and the little life he has carved out for himself and his beloved in the middle of the woods.

He’s on high alert as he walks into the hallway – and his heart sinks as he sees the crack of the door, the thin shaft of early not quite morning light on the wooden floor.

He had thought you were different.

Anger replaces the disappointment as quickly as a raging sea.

How dare you? How could you make him think you loved him, like he loved you? How could you lie beside him and share his home with him and make him think that you were the one, when all of this time you’ve clearly been longing for an escape from him? You’re just like all of the others.

His jaw sets as he goes to grab one of the axes mounted on the wall. If you’re just like all of the rest of them, you’ll die like the rest of them. Head cleaved in twain, quick and clean and easy. Maybe he’ll feel a little bad when he takes you into the storeroom, dumps you into the freezer, wonders which cut of meat to start with (he’s always been a little distracted by your thighs--) . . . but it will pass, he’s sure.

Someone out there is right for him. Just a goddamn pity it isn’t you.

You won’t get far; they never do. This is his territory, after all. He knows every nook and cranny, every tree and branch and dip in the terrain. Your spot in the bed had still been warm; your head start will mean almost nothing in the grand scheme of things. Cold rage has overtaken him entirely by the time he’s laced up his boots and swung open the door.

He can feel his heart thumping in his chest, blood rushing to his head.

He usually does not take pleasure in violence. He does what he does because it is the way of the world, and he needs to eat. But for someone who has betrayed him so thoroughly, broken his heart when it already feels like the only fragile part of him . . . perhaps he should hurt you. Perhaps he should take pleasure in making you beg for your life. The axe feels at home in his grip, like it was meant to be there.

He’s scanning the horizon and wondering in which direction you’ve taken off when he hears a sigh. It’s something soft and quiet; if Lucas didn’t know his own territory so well and wasn’t so attuned to any differences in the air, he’d not notice it at all.

But he is, and he does – so his head snaps to the side.

He’s not expecting you to be there.

Already, he had half-written you off in his mind as just another failed attempt to find someone who loved him the way he loved them. Imagined you sobbing for your life, head mangled, blood staining the ground beneath you – but seeing you there, so close to the cabin still . . . All of those thoughts flow from his mind like water running through his fingers.

Your legs are pulled up, your knees tucked under your chin. Your arms are around them, your head tipped up to the sunrise.

You’re so beautiful, he thinks, dimly. The faint early glow of a morning that hasn’t yet fully begun illuminates your face, light refracting in your eyes. You catch sight of him.

There’s a pause as you notice the axe and you stiffen in fear, but Lucas pulls it from across his shoulder and gives you what he hopes is a reassuring smile; and you return it, tremulous but hopeful.

God, your smile makes him weak.

“I just wanted some fresh air,” you say, your tone a little anxious. Your eyes flicker once more to the axe, and you catch your lip with your teeth in anxiety. “I’m-- I’m sorry--”

He had thought you were different. And perhaps you are.

“S’alright,” he says, gruffly. “Ask next time, darlin’, okay?”

Fear drains from your shoulders. Your nod is quick and desperate; he chooses to interpret it as enthusiasm and not terror. Another day, he’d quite like to watch the sun rise with you.

He sits beside you on the grass, laying his axe down entirely as a way to pacify you. You look at him with those pretty eyes that he’s always thinking about, head tilted to the side just a little – and he wraps his arm around your shoulder. He pretends that he doesn’t sense the spike of your unease in the air, the way you swallow, the lightest jump.

“Pretty out here at this time, ain’t it?” He says, soft and low and gritty. You nod, managing another smile for him; he pretends there isn’t a wobble to it. He pulls you in closer. You’re so warm against him. So soft.

“Yeah,” you say, sunbeams warming your face. Lucas leans in, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. Your nails dig into your palms as you control yourself to not react to the intimate gesture. You can sense the curve of his lips into a smile as he murmurs against you;

“Not half as lovely as you, though.”

#🦇 pip writes #cant believe the next thing in that tag is basically just fic of my own OCs lmao #if you're here via my writing blog you wont be surprised to know this is 1.3k #i am NOT a succinct writer #if nothing else i hope the like. one person following me who rlly likes lucas enjoys this dfgkjnbgnfm #lucas tag

[bl--ankhaeji]

hiii! :). can i request a fic where hendery or yangyang have y/n over at place and she accidentally gets period blood on his bed but after taking care of her, and assuring she’s okay they face another challenge at the store when they try and buy some period items/snacks for her. :) ty!

Pairing ~ Yangyang x Fem!Reader

Genre ~ Fluff, Humor

Warning ~ uhh very light mentions of a slight panic attack not really but really two ig if you count yangs,, also unedited  

A.N ~ Sorry took me so long to answer 😅 hope you like it!

W. Count ~ 1.4k  

  The bright rays of light bleed into the room in which you and your boyfriend of a year sleep peacefully, that is until yangyang throws his hand towards your face in his sleep, slapping you awake. You jolt awake from the impact, “Yang what the fuck.” you spit angrily throwing his hand back on him. “Fucking bitch.” rolling your eyes before closing them you start twisting and turning trying to find a comfy spot to go back to sleep until you feel something wet between your legs. 

Your eyes fly open instantly as you curse internally praying that you’re just overthinking and you sit up looking down to see that what you feared was really happening. Your period had decided to come on in the middle of the night and not only that but you had heavily stained YangYang’s sheets and partially his comforter. “Fuck!” hopping out of bed you start silently panicking pacing back and forth wondering how you’re gonna hide this from YangYang. 

In the midst of your panic you didn’t notice that the very person you wanted to stay asleep had woken up. “Babe, what are you panicking about so early I can barely dream with all of your pac-” he stops mid sentence sitting up on the bed as if he had noticed something and instantly your heart drops as you cease all pacing, “Baby,” he starts out slow, “Are those my joggers? I have been looking for those everywhere, shoulda fucking known you had them.” Standing up he walks into his en suite bathroom. 

A breath leaves your lips as pure relief floods your bloodstream and it’s as if someone lifted a brick off your shoulders. You swear you had never stripped a bed of its dressing so quick in your life trying to get it into the washer before YangYang comes out. Gathering everything in your arms you start to trudge your way out of the room, the end was near you could see the finish line just a few more steps and you’ll-. Yangyang’s hand lands on your shoulder causing your body to stiffen immediately and he makes his way in front of you grabbing the bed set out of your hands. 

“There’s some bath water in the tub for you, I’ll take these to the washroom real quick then bring you a towel.” He then leaves the room without another word closing the door softly behind him. The panic that quickly filled you at the thought of him probably seeing the stain on the back of his pants when he walked out of the bathroom leaves just as quick as it came when you realize that he had probably already known the whole time. In its place was an indescribable warmth accompanied with butterflies at the thought that he pretended not to notice because he knew how stressed out you were about it.

Making your way to the bathroom you grab some clothes to change into. The bubble bath that rested in the tub could only be described as fit for a queen; you could even see the freshly opened and used powdered bath milk packet resting in the garbage can. Stripping yourself you sit in the bath filled with water at the perfect temperature and you could feel all of the tension in your muscles loosen. 

You hear YangYang walk back into the room and then the bathroom standing at the door looking at you. “I hope the bath water temp is cool. The comforter should take a hour or two and I can order you some food if you’re hungry.” 

Looking down at the bubbles that rested above your hands, “Thanks for not making a big deal out of this. You’re the best.” YangYang nods with a ‘Damn right I am’ falling from his lips, and a bright smile splits his face before moving to make his way out of the doorway until your voice calls him back.

 “By the way what did you do with that pad I left here last time? I forgot to put another emergency one in my backpack.” At your question the smile that once threatened to tear his face falls and a guilty expression takes its place. 

“Uhhh about that..” he trails off, averting his eyes, his right hand reaching for the back of his neck, “I kinda used your last pad to wipe up my Arizona Green Tea when it spilled.”  

“Yang I- YOU WHAT?!?”  

“I’M SORRY. THEY’RE- they’re really absorbent okay?” A silence falls between the both of you and you finally look back up at him staring him dead in the eyes a serious expression taking over your face. 

“I take it back, you aren’t the best.” 

“WHAT NO?!? You can’t take that back away from me. It’s undeserved, I had nothing else to clean it up with cause we were out of paper towels.” 

“No, it is deserved because now what am I supposed to do? I can’t just sit in the tub until my period goes off.” You say giving him a deadpan expression. 

“I’ll go to the store and get you some more, okay? I’ll even get you some snacks, what do you want?” 

You give him a list of snacks and tell him explicitly what type of pads to buy, “And if all else fails you can always just call me and I’ll tell you which ones to get.”

Yangyang scoffs, “I’m not stupid how hard could buying some measly pads be.” 

“What the fuck is we doin?” Yangyang drawls out at the sight of all of the pads. “So many words and I have no idea what any of them fucking mean.” he whispers. He picks up a box of pads, “Ok I’m pretty sure the wings are those flappy things that got stuck to my hand when I was wiping up the tea. So that means she wants them to have them, right?”

“Super absorbent..Heavy flow. Does y/n have a heavy flow? I assume so from the amount of blood she got on herself and the bed this morning, so I should buy these right? Wait, but they say teen and she’s not a teen.” putting the box down he picks up another. 

“Maxi, overnight, Super Pads? What makes these super? What the fuck is all of this?!?” Meanwhile Y/n is at the house saying I told you so because she can feel his distress all the way from the store.

Apparently Y/n isn’t the only one who can sense his distress because another boy walks into the section scanning the boxes with precise eyes grabbing one confidently and on the way to the counter when he sees a panic ridden Yangyang. “Hey, bro do you uhh need help or something?” he asks a chuckle falling from his lips. 

Yangyang’s head shoots up looking at the man as if he was a god, “Bro please I have no idea what the fuck any of this means and my girlfriend offered to facetime me if I had trouble but I ran my mouth about how I didn’t ne-”

“Need help and now that you do you don’t wanna call her and hear the I told you so? Yea I know that feeling and I refuse to let another brother feel the same.” The stranger's hand falls on Yangyangs shoulder as a father would his son as he guides him in the ways of the sanitary pads. When he was done Yangyang knew not only of pads but tampons as well and with his chest puffed out he made his way to the counter with the snacks and the pads ready to tell Y/n how he didn’t need help picking out some freaking pads...well not her help anyways. 

“Wow, you actually got the right ones.” you say walking into the room flopping down on the bed beside Yangyang. Opening one of the snacks he got you you lean back on him waiting for him to press play on the movie. 

He clears his throat drawing your attention up to him, “Is there something you would like to say to me?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. “It rhymes with Shime Shma Shmest...” 

Smacking your teeth you roll your eyes, “Fine, You’re the best.” 

Wrapping his arms around you pulling you more into his chest he nods, “Mmhm I sure am. Don’t forgot okay?” you shake your head at the saying he picked up from his roommate Haechan. 

Yangyang proceeds to press play on the movie and you get a couple minutes in, “Yangyang.” 

“Hm?” 

“I know you got help from someone cause I- mmgmhhmhMMSHSHMMHM” Yangyang’s hand flies over your mouth covering it in order to mute what you’re saying. 

“What’s that I’m sorry babe I can’t hear you. Did you say I’m the Best? Oh, okay thanks so much babe I love you too.” 

#nct #wayv #nct yangyang #wayv yangyang #yangyang fluff #nct fluff #wayv fluff #nct u #nct 2020 #MY STORIES #treanswers

[anniesocsandgeneralstore]

Grow Old With You - Reykha’s Birth

IF YOU ONCE READ THIS FIC AND WANT SOME CLOSURE HERE IS A LINK FOR YOU/OR IF YOU’RE WONDERING WHERE THE HECK THE REST OF THIS FIC IS IT IS EXPLAINED HERE

Summary: lol this is the last thing I wrote for Grow Old With You/Build a Home With You. I felt y’all deserved to read it cause I do really like how it turned out. Also Ara and Din are space MILF and DILF that deserve the world. 

Pairing: The Mandalorian (Din Djarin) x OFC (Ara Obagh) 

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: fairly graphic depictions of birth and labor, major fluff, a lot of feels, Ara’s glorious return 

With one hand, Ara gripped a rung of the ladder while the other tried to soothe the underside of her belly as another spasm ripped across her abdomen. It was the worst pain she had ever felt. She had been stabbed, shot, and tortured. But nothing compared to this. Her lower back now throbbed. The weight, and pressure of the baby against her pelvis nearly made her knees buckle. Her mouth opened in a silent groan as the pain peaked, her belly stiffening in her hand, and then it slowly began to fade. 

For a moment, she believed it was over. The doctor had warned against false pains that could be mistaken for real labor. Something similar happened at the beach just a few days earlier. She hoped that was what it was. Ara wanted to have the baby back home on Naboo. In the solace of her own bed. Not on the Razor Crest, a cold ship that left much to be desired when it came to comfort. 

But then she felt a soft pop between her legs. Like a balloon filled with too much air. Then a sudden gush of liquid between her legs. Did I just wet myself? Ara thought. That would be an embarrassing thing to have to explain to Din and Cara when they got back. But when she looked down at the floor to the small puddle she now stood in, her eyes widened at the sight. There was a tiny amount of blood mixed in with the clear fluid. 

“Oh no,” Ara whispered. 

Her water just broke. On the Razor Crest. On Denon of all places. 

The next contraction hit about thirty minutes later. She hadn’t moved from her spot in front of the ladder, afraid that would make the now constant ache even worse. Pain, like an iron belt wrapped around her middle, coursed through her stomach and into her spine. Ara whimpered as she swayed back and forth, her free hand rubbing soothing circles into her abdomen. Hot tears, which she felt betrayed by, built up in the corners of her eyes and threatened to fall. She had felt pain before. She had been through worse. But Maker this kriffing hurt and she had no idea when Din was going to be back. And the more she thought about that, the more her tears blurred her vision and her lip began to quiver. She didn’t want to go through this alone. What if something went wrong? What if the baby was breach or something worse? Ara rested her forehead against the cool metal of the ladder as her tears finally fell. 

“Just a little bit longer, fierce girl,” she whispered, voice trembling, “Please.” 

Ten minutes. Another contraction. They were getting closer together and the pain was getting worse. Both hands on the ladder, Ara breathed through it as Vaisha had told her to do. But she couldn’t stop the choked sob that broke past her lips. Din should be there. Breathing with her and massaging her back to help relieve the pain. He should be whispering encouragements in her ear. But he wasn’t. She prayed that he would be back soon, even as she gathered all her courage and moved her hand between her legs. 

She was about halfway dilated. It was almost time. 

_______________________________________________________________________

“I get that you wanna go in there blaster first — but we need a plan,” Cara argued as they walked back to where the Crest had been parked. 

“Fine,” Din relented, feeling agitated, “Make a plan. Attack his safehouse first thing in the morning.” 

Cara agreed with a slight nod of her head as they approached the Crest. Din pulled the comlink from his belt and held it up to his helmet. “Ara, we’re back. Release the ground security protocols.” 

Nothing. Complete and deafening silence. 

Din felt panic, like a sudden harpoon through his chest. He took a deep breath to calm himself. Maybe she was asleep. Or perhaps the comlink ran out of batteries. He could always just pound on the ramp if all else failed. She was fine. Perfectly fine. 

He repeated, quieter, his voice strained, “Ara?” 

The Crest hissed to life as the ramp popped open and then slowly lowered. Din heaved a sigh of relief as Cara slapped him on the back. She knew everything was fine. Ara was way too capable, even when she was about to have a baby, to let something happen to her. But then they both got a good look at Ara standing at the top of the ramp. She was soaked in sweat. Her cheeks red. She stood hunched over, her knees buckled, one hand against the wall and the other clutching her stomach. Tears had stained her cheeks. Her entire form flinched as her face crumpled in pain. The concave of her back bending even further. 

Then she looked up at them, desperate and in agony before whimpering, “Din…” 

Cara had seen the Mandalorian move quickly. It always impressed her how hard he could haul ass with all that armor on. But in this instance, he truly surprised her with how swiftly he moved. He was up the ramp and inside the Crest within seconds. One arm supporting Ara’s back while the other wrapped around her middle to keep her upright. Cara stared for only a moment longer than either of the Mandalorians liked. 

“Dune!” he shouted, “Get in here!” 

She quickly did as she was told. Scrambling up the ramp and it was immediately closed behind her. 

“What’s happening?” Cara asked, voice edging on panicked. A new emotion for her. Stars, is she dying? 

“Baby…” Ara struggled to answer, grunting in pain and clutching at her stomach, “The baby…” 

Oh shit, Cara thought, eyes gone wide. 

Ara panted, tears of sweet relief now flowing down her face, as Din lowered her slowly to the floor. Back leaned against the now-closed ramp and her knees bent. The pain was nearing on constant now. She felt like she was going to vomit or pass out because of it. Din quickly whipped his cape off his shoulders and threw it down on the floor. Followed by his gloves. Then he started working on getting his vambraces off, and it was only then that he noticed Cara still standing there. Staring at Ara like she was about to explode. 

“Can I…Help?” the ex-shock trooper asked unsurely, eyes still trained on Ara who threw her head back against the wall and groaned loudly in pain. 

“No.” Din grunted as he finally pulled one vambrace away from his arm. His fingers fumbled and shook as he began working on the other one. “Get into the cockpit and set course for Naboo.” 

“Mando, you can’t be serious — ?” 

“Just do it!” he shouted roughly, shocking even Cara with his harsh and frantic tone, “And stay up there till I say.” 

As soon as he heard the hatch up into the cockpit slide shut behind Cara, Din ripped his helmet from his head and took in a massive lungful of air. His entire body seemed to shake as an autumn leaf in the breeze, ready to break free from its father branch and fall to the ground in silence. Did this have to happen now? Right now? When he was so close to getting Gideon and ridding them of their fears for good? Maker, he wasn’t ready. He thought he would have more time to prepare for this. To prepare for helping Ara, for helping the baby, for being the firm foundation that both of them needed right now. He worked, hands trembling, on getting at least the top half of his armor removed. The first time he held his Creed-born child, he would not be covered in the armor he showed the world. He would be just himself. What if he did something wrong? He had gone over the procedure a million times with the doctor and had bothered Vaisha with far too many questions. He wanted to do this right. He wanted to be there for Ara. He wanted her to be comfortable. And Maker he really wished they were not on the Razor Crest, on some foreign planet where a man who wanted them dead was located. This was not like anything he had pictured.  

Fear, as worm in his brain, wiggled and took hold of him. He wasn’t ready. He couldn’t do this. He needed more time. 

“I-I’m sorry,” Ara panted from behind him, “But I — mmm — I knew this would happen.” 

The next contraction crescendoed and Ara’s steadily increasing pants for breath turned into a scream. Throat exposed and a vein popping out on her forehead as her sweaty palms scrambled for purchase. Din turned immediately and knelt down before her on his knees, taking her hands in his and letting her squeeze till his own mouth dropped open in pain. Her screams reduced to panted groans and her grip on him relented as the contraction subsided. But the pain never fully went away, only became less intense. 

He looked deep into her face. That beautiful face that still threw him into a state of shock and awe. Covered in a layer of sweat, red-cheeked, pinched in agony, and she still looked like the sun-rise. Constant and devastating in its beauty. It didn’t matter that Din wasn’t ready. It didn’t matter that Ara wasn’t ready. This baby was coming. The circumstances were not going to change. Ara needed him. The baby needed him. And he was always going to be there for them. No matter what. 

 It was on this ship that they were delivered from a burning Mandalore. And it seemed that on that same ship the next generation of a planet burned would be born.

“How far apart are they?” he asked as he let go of her hands and flexed his fingers. 

“Three minutes — I-I think — Maker, I don’t know,” she whimpered. 

“It’s okay. It’s okay,” Din reassured, reaching up and unwinding her scarf from her head. Her hair was drenched in sweat. But she needed to be fully uncovered when the baby was born. “Just take deep breaths. Just like that. You’re doing great.” 

“Did you — Did you find Gideon?” 

Of course, she would still be thinking about that at a time like this. 

He debated, for an instant, if he should lie and tell her that Cara’s information had been wrong. But he always had been a terrible liar. Or Ara had always had a way of seeing right through him to the truth.  

He sighed, his chin dropped to his chest before mumbling, “Yeah.” 

He lifted his head just in time to see guilt take over her face and a fresh wave of tears build up in her eyes. They wouldn’t be able to attack his safe house now. Din wouldn’t stand being parted from her or the baby once she was born. And Cara couldn’t take down that squadron by herself. They could wait a few weeks and come back, but by then Gideon might move to a different safe house. Who knew what kind of rotations he and the other wanted Imperial warlords had going on. And as each of them felt the familiar pull of takeoff, they knew Gideon was slipping through their fingers once more. 

Ara’s lip had begun to bleed with the abuse her teeth had been putting it through. She tasted copper in her mouth as she let go and whispered, “M’sorry.” 

With a shake of his head, Din reached out and pressed his thumb flat into her chin. Nothing to apologize for. 

He then pulled down her underwear and checked how far along into labor she was. “You’re almost completely dilated. I’ll go get the supplies.” 

Ara didn’t want him to leave her. She whimpered slightly as he got up from the floor and made his way into the refresher. He got a few towels and a bowl of hot water. In this moment alone, he paused. Turned to the west on instinct, he began to pray. Ara always had been better at it than he was. But right now, she needed his prayers more than ever. So he tried to remember the words.

Protect my child whose name I’ve yet to know as mine, but so desperately want to. If I must die in order for that to happen, let it be. Protect Ara, who is one with me when together or parted. By the Star, you created all, and by it, you shall destroy. And by the Star, you will give us the strength to deliver this child into the world. Please…Keep them safe. I can’t lose them. 

A peace that he would never be able to bring himself washed over him as he opened his eyes. Another scream echoed through the Razor Crest. And Din, with this newfound peace and confidence, stepped out of the refresher with the needed supplies. A bowl of warm water. A few towels. The sheers from the medpack. 

He quickly kneeled back down between Ara’s bent legs. 

The legends say that when a warrior died honorably in battle, paint across his helmet and blood upon his chest plate, it was the closest anyone could get to holding the Maker’s star in their hands. To holding the greatest power, the greatest glory, and the greatest light in their mortal grasp. But when that baby slipped from Ara and into Din’s steady, awaiting hands — screaming and squirming and covered in fluids — the legends were proven wrong. 

All of time seemed to stop. The entire universe tilting it’s chin to get a better look at the life that had just been born. To hear the joyous, in-awe laugh that bubbled from Din’s throat. 

“Ara,” he whispered, cradling the tiny body in his much larger hands, “It’s a girl.” 

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the babe in his hands. In those sinner’s hands that had caused so much destruction. And yet he had made this most precious thing, with Ara, with the breath of his life. This perfect, fragile thing that all at once told him that life was so fleeting and that life was so very beautiful. He didn’t need the warrior. He didn’t need battle paint on his helmet. He didn’t need honorable death to hold a piece of the heavens in his grasp. She was right there. Wiggling and screaming at him for being born. 

Tears, testaments to his absolute joy and rapture, spilled from his eyes without his permission. But he wasn’t going to berate them or curse them. As he had his entire life. He welcomed them with open arms. 

Ara finally broke him from his revere with her panted reply, “A girl?” 

Din looked up into his wife’s face and laughed again. A quiet, breathless thing as he pushed himself up and placed the wailing baby in her arms. She looked exhausted, pale, but happy. Tears fell from her eyes as well. Ara cradled the baby in her arms and laughed softly. She was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. 

A tuft of dark hair on her head. A small, squished face that was angry red. But her screams turned slowly to whimpers, and then faded out completely in her mother’s arms. Ara reached up a weary finger and brushed a knuckle over her soft cheek. 

The air had suddenly become thick as the baby slowly opened her eyes for the first time. Ara’s ragged breaths seemed far too loud in her uncovered ears. But the air became caught in her throat when the baby looked into her eyes for the first time. Dark and endless, just like her parents. 

So this was what it was like to be seen. To be really seen by someone else. 

“Hello, my fierce girl,” Ara whispered, voice horse even at such a volume, “I know your name as my child — Reykha.” 

Din made quick work of snipping the umbilical cord and cleaning the baby off with the warm water. 

“Mm — Din,” Ara grunted while he cleaned the fussy baby. 

He looked over his shoulder to see her face pinched in pain. Legs tucked back up against her chest with her hands. 

“Afterbirth?” he questioned, laying Reykha down on a towel and drying her off. 

“Mm-hmm,” she hummed back. 

The pain wasn’t as intense, but it still kriffing hurt. And she was tired. So very tired. 

“Shit — okay.” 

Din couldn’t find the blanket they had packed. He could have sworn he had grabbed it from the baby’s room before they left. And he could have sworn he had dropped it down to the floor along with the rest of the birthing supplies. But the blanket Yasima had gifted to Ara, with their signet stitched into the soft fabric, was nowhere in sight. Din cursed under his breath as he looked back over at his wife. Her face pinched in pain and resisting the urge to push again. He really did not want to clean her placenta up off the floor. But Reykha needed to be wrapped up in something to keep her warm. But what? He forgot the damn blanket and Ara was never going to let him hear the end of it — 

There. His cape balled up in the corner. That would do for now. He quickly snatched it from the floor and swaddled the baby up in it. Then, cradling the baby in one arm, he pushed the empty bowl he had grabbed between Ara’s legs just in time. 

“You forgot the blanket didn’t you?” she panted as she let her legs fall back down to the floor. 

“Shut up,” he grumbled lightly, taking the bowl in his free hand and sliding it across the floor towards the refresher. 

Then she got a look at them. Unannounced tears pricked at her eyes. Little Reykha, bundled in her father’s cape and tucked into the crook of his elbow. Safe, fast asleep, not even five minutes old. Din, half of his armor tossed carelessly onto the floor, hair disheveled, and sweat sheening on his brow. Safe, tired, a smile quirking his lips and creating a singular dimple in his cheek. Good Maker, he’s beautiful. Ara’s mind had gone blank of anything else in the universe. Her heart couldn’t decide if it wanted to go at lightspeed or stop altogether. She couldn’t help but take in the little scar across the bridge of his nose, the one on his top lip. Evidence of years of fighting, of resentment, of a life that felt like a deep and distant dream. 

After all this time. After all the waiting. After the heartache of losing Mandalore, the rage of being with Ran and his crew, the monotony and restlessness of their years with the Guild, the fear and running from the remains of the Empire. All of it was leading up to this. Kha’s last command, last request on a dying Mandalore — You must carry us with you always — and you must keep Mandalore alive through the warriors you will raise — she waited thirty years for them to fulfill their vow. And now she could march beside her fellow warriors in peace. And Ara could feel it, feel that eternal peace wash over her as Din sat down beside her and placed Reykha into her arms. 

“I wish the kid was here,” Ara commented as she leaned into Din’s shoulder. 

“Me too,” he whispered back, unable to look away from the little pink face poking out of his cape, “But we’ll be home in a few hours.” 

“Maker, I hope he likes her.” 

“He will. We’ve been talking about it.” 

Ara looked over at him with an incredulous smile. “You have?” 

“Mm,” Din grunted, reaching out and tracing his fingers over Reykha’s hairline, “How he’ll be a big brother. The responsibility — the care. How she’ll need a lot of your attention.” 

Ara stared at him a moment. At the way his kind, warm, brown eyes were transfixed by the babe in her arms. At the soft smile adorning his hard features. At the crook of his nose. At the soft tumble of his hair. At the love and peace and warmth that seemed to radiate off of him. 

In Mando’a there are two words for breath. One of them is kar’am. This word translates into Basic as the literal air inside a being’s lungs. The breath of life. The thing that can get knocked out of someone during a fight or stolen from them in a moment of emotion. The other word for breath is haal. This word has no direct translation. A rough sort of definition is that haal is the thing that gives you a reason to breathe. The thing, beyond air, beyond oxygen, that gives one meaning and gives one a reason to keep going. The life-force, the light, the purpose for drawing air into your lungs. Even to say the word, haal, it sounds like an exhale. A declaration that what one is calling their breath owns it. 

“Kiss me,” Ara whispered softly, too softly, “Ner haal.” 

Din looked up at her with raised brows and wide eyes. But then his every feature softened. He was her reason to keep going. The man who had given her everything she had ever desired. Who had painted the picture of their lives with her at the center of it. Who worked to the point of breaking his back nearly every single day. A man who lost everything and now had all that he had ever desired. The love of his life at his side. A Foundling and a Creed-born child of his own. A house with transparisteel hanging above the door and his armor stowed away in a shed. He was the very breath inside her lungs. Her very reason for living. 

With a tender hand, Din reached out and cupped her cheek in his calloused hand. He marveled in the way she leaned into his touch. Then he kissed her. Slanting his lips against her own and molding his mouth into her own softly, reverently, slowly. He pulled away just enough to whisper back to her, ner haal, letting his breath mingle with her own. Tying them together like the breeze through forest branches. 

A breath of life shared between them.

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