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rdr2gifs · 3 months

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''the morning light, when it comes to me, it was there but I could not see''

Arthur’s life was profoundly shaped by his self-hatred, lack of self-worth and disbelief in the existence of kindness in a seemingly dark and cruel world.

I strongly disagree with the statement that Arthur only became a ‘’better’’ man after being diagnosed with tb. His struggle with his true/inner self is apparent as early as chapter one. ‘’You are not who you think you are, sir… which is lucky’’

He has lived a rough life, raised by criminals and surrounded by violence ever since he was born. It was installed in him early that his value lied within being a violent enforcer and he has lived this life since, knowing nothing else. As a highly aware person, Arthur's actions weight heavy on his soul. He accepts that his actions have consequences. He knows that a person who has caused so much suffering is not meant to have happiness in life. His way of life has caused him to believe that he is not worthy of love or redemption. He doesn’t want to believe that a person like him could be capable of any good. (a thing to note here is that imo, Arthur’s actions near his death weren’t attempts at redemption but rather a strong desire to do right and possibly be his true self.) This is why he keeps living as he does as it’s the only thing he’s ever known, it’s the thing that brings him profit, praise from the person he looks up to and he is already damned so he might as well continue living this life anyway.

The internal problem Arthur faces is that this violent, cruel way of life doesn’t align with what I’d call his true self/ideals. He is torn between the harsh reality he has known and an unconscious yearning for righteousness/love. To be able to carry on with his actions he must enforce certain ideals within himself, such as: I am bad, ugly, nasty, ignorant, mean etc. He also decides to see the dark side of reality, telling himself that the world is a grim dark place and this is just as things were meant to be. This is why he feels so uncomfortable being complimented for his good deeds, because a bad rotten person like him should not be able to do good. It breaks the image he has built for himself and he doesn’t want that happening. This can be seen a lot during the ‘’Money Lending and Other Sins’’ missions where he is unusually mean (even for his standards) to each of the debtors. Imo, he acts this way because he must truly convince himself of being a terrible man to be able to carry out a job which revolts him so badly. In the last debt collecting mission with J. John Weathers, it can be seen in his face/expressions how much he is struggling to put on a tough, uncaring, heartless act. He needs to maintain a ruthless persona to survive in the world he knows. He must convince himself of his own cruelty.

''Forgive me, but that's the problem. You don't know you.''

Contrary to Arthur’s beliefs, he is a naturally kind-hearted person who is unconsciously drawn towards kindness. And yes, even before he was diagnosed with tb. This can be seen in the people he respects the most and, in his willingness to help strangers (notice how he often does unnecessary acts of service for total strangers such as: carrying their things, holding out hands etc. even though they had already troubled him). Despite the life he has lived, Arthur does not enjoy violence, he does not enjoy hurting people. He doesn’t want to dominate over others. He thinks mostly about others and not about himself. This fact alone is very telling of his character.

He writes about Charles, a man who he truly respects: ‘’He’s a better man than me. He does not need to think to be good. It comes naturally to him, like right is deep within as opposed to this conflict between GOOD↔EVIL that rages within me.’’ A man who is not struggling with his inner self would not have written this. To me this clearly implies an inner desire to be a better man. He writes about his mentors: ‘’I love Dutch like a father, but in many ways, I love Hosea even more. He’s kind and fair and like a human being. Dutch is something else.’’ Clearly showing a preference for Hosea who is of a more gentle nature and shows genuine kindness. Unsurprisingly, these are the people who see through his dumb/though act and encourage him to drop it.

When he comes across Brother Dorkins for the first time, he writes: ‘’(he)was one of those innocent people who make you feel better about human beings and about yourself a little. Must be odd to see all that goodness in the world. Place always seemed dark and brutal to me.’’ Expressing how he does not see goodness in the world, implying lack of good examples/kindness/good experiences in his life. Yet, the monk leaves an impression and imo, this encounter (seeing genuine goodness) disrupts Arthur’s perception of what the world truly is. ‘’Just as evil begat evil your whole life long, so good may begat good’’ (what strengthens my belief in this, is the following, symbolic scene of Arthur realising the consequences of his actions right after picking up a crucifix. He was aware of them before sure, but is unable to truly ignore them now having seen it right in front of his eyes). If only Arthur was presented with more examples of goodness in his life.

''You have it in you... I can tell!''

His desire to do as much good as possible after realising he won’t live long is instant. This would not be the mindset of someone who did not already possess kindness in his heart. ‘’Know glory and forget about shame.’’ Arthur’s shame and self-loathing caused by his previous actions were what was holding him back from allowing kindness into his life. Knowing that he has limited time left has not made him into someone he wasn’t before. The diagnosis was a catalyst, allowing him to embrace that love/goodness truly does exist and accelerate the process of chipping away from the persona he has made for himself. This was a newfound understanding for him as in the past he was rejecting any notion of kindess. In himself and perhaps the whole existence of it. ‘’You keep hidden all that matters, even from yourself.’’

After being diagnosed, he writes: ‘’What kind of a man have I been? What kind of a man am I? What world is this we live in? A land of fury or a place of love? Am I being prepared for eternal damnation? Am I past any kind of saving? Is that all fairytales? Man ain’t got much good in him. I ain’t got no good in me… I don’t think and yet I see goodness. I see it. If not in me, in good folk. In Abigail and her love for Jack. In that silly monk. In Downes, I guess. Begging not for himself but for the poor, even though he was near starving himself. Maybe I don’t want salvation. Part of me has always longed for death.’’ This entry perfectly shows how deep Arthur’s self-loathing goes and just how much it has damaged him. As his journal allows a look into his true feelings, he truly does not see a single good thing about himself. He knew for a long time that the way he lives is detestable but he could not let go of it. Not because he didn’t want to, but because it’s all that he has ever known. He didn’t believe in anything else. This sudden acceptance of goodness has allowed him to see clearly, which was obscured from him before, and for the first time, enabled him to act free of past regrets for what is right.

⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪

Arthur’s redemption is not about becoming a good man. It is about finding the strength to change and recognise your true self despite a lifetime of self-loathing and breaking free from destructive beliefs of the past.

In Arthurian legends a stag is a symbol of the unending quest of spiritual knowledge/enligtenment

#this is my own personal interpretation of arthur's redemption #i could expand so much more on this #the orange quotes are by blind man cassidy #please don’t even interact if you think arthur was just a killer incapable of goodness before he was diagnosed #the ironic thing is that so many people could see behind arthur’s front but he was blind to it #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #this analysis is based purely on high-honor choices #i don't care if your arthur shoots up entire towns this analysis does not take individual open-world gameplay decisions into account #i did almost cry thinking about this #text post

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fozmeadows · 3 months

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As someone who hasn't read the works of radical feminists like Simone de Beauvoir, could you explain what's wrong and what bothers you about biological essentialism? I'm curious about your opinion after reading your post on radfems (and I'd like a perspective that isn't so based on biological gender essentialism, which I honestly have a hard time moving away from because I don't understand other perspectives well). 👀

The problem with biological essentialism is that purports to answer the eternally unanswered question of nature vs nurture in a wholly one-dimensional way - ie, with biological sex as The Single Most Important Aspect Of Personhood, regardless of any other considerations - while simultaneously ignoring the fact that biological sex is not, in fact, a binary proposition. We've learned in recent decades, for instance, that intersex conditions are much more common and wide-ranging than previously thought, not because scientists have arbitrarily changed the definitions of what counts as an intersex condition, but because our understanding of hormones, chromosomes, karyotpying and other physical permutations has expanded sufficiently to merit the shift. So right away, the idea that humanity is composed of Biological Men and Biological Women with absolutely no ambiguities, overlap or middle ground simply isn't true. Inevitably, though, if you mention this, people with a vested interest in biological essentialism become immediately defensive. They'll start saying things like, oh, but that's only a tiny minority of the population, they're outliers, they don't count, as though their argument doesn't derive its claim to authority from a presumed universality. To use a well-worn example, redheads are also a tiny minority of the population, but that doesn't mean we exclude them when talking about the range of natural human hair colours. But the fact is, even if humans lacked chromosomal diversity beyond XX/XY; even if there were no cases of cis men with internal ovaries or cis women with internal testes or people with ambiguous genitalia - and let's be clear: all of these things exist - the fact is, our individual hormones are in flux throughout our lives.

There are standard ranges for estrogen and testosterone in men and women (which, again, vary according to age and some other factors), but two cis men of the same age and background could still have completely different T-counts, for instance - meaning, even the supposed universal gender factor isn't universal at all. More, while our hormones certainly play a major role in our moods and cognition, so do a ton of other genetic and bodily factors that have nothing to do with the sex we're assigned at birth - and on top of that, there's nurture: the cultural contexts in which we're raised, plus our more individual experiences of living in the world. One of the most common, everyday (and yet completely bullshit) permutations of biological essentialism comes when parents or would-be parents talk about their reasons for wanting a son or a daughter. Very often, there's a strong play to stereotypical assumptions about shared interests and personalities: I want a son to play football with me, for instance, or: I want a daughter to be my shopping buddy. But even within the most mainstream channels of cishet culture, it's understood that these hopes are not, in fact, grounded in any sort of biological certainty. The dad who wants a sporty son might be just as likely to end up with a bookworm, while the mother who wants a little princess might find herself with a tomboy. We know this, and our stories know this! For the entirety of human history - for as long as we've been writing about ourselves - we have records of parental disappointment in the failure of this child or that to embody what's expected of them, gender-wise. More than that: if biological essentialism was real - if men were only and ever One Type Of Man, and women were only and ever One Type Of Woman, with recent progressive moments the sole anonymous blip in an otherwise uniform historical standard - then why is there so much disparity and disagreement throughout human history as to what those roles are? The general conception of women espoused in medieval France is thoroughly different to that espoused in pre-colonial Malawi, for instance, and yet we're meant to believe that there's some innate Gender Template guiding all human beings to behave in accordance with a set, immutable biological binary? And that's before you factor in the broad and fascinating history of trans and nonbinary people throughout history - because despite what TERFs and conservative alarmists have to say on the matter, our records of trans people, and of societies in which various trans and nonbinary identities were widely understood (if not always accepted), are ancient. We know about trans priestesses from thousands of years before Christ; the Talmud has terms describing eight different genders, and those are just two examples. All over the world, all throughout history, different cultures have developed radically different concepts of femininity and masculinity, to say nothing of designations outside of, overlapping with or in between those categories - socially, legally, behaviourally, sexually - and yet we're meant to believe that biology is at all times nudging us towards a set, ideal gender template? There's a lot more I could say, but ultimately, the point is this: people are different. While some aspects of our personhood are inevitably influenced by genetics, hormones, chromosomes and other biological factors, we're also creatures of culture and change and interpersonal experience. The idea that men and women are fundamentally different, even diametrically opposed, at a biological level - that the major separator in terms of our personalities and interests isn't culture, upbringing and personal taste, but what's between our legs - is just... so reductive, and so inaccurate.

We can absolutely have common experiences on the basis of a shared gender, but gender is not the only possible axis of commonality between two people, let alone the most salient one at all times, and the idea that we're all born on one side of an immutable biological equation that cannot possibly be transcended makes me feel insane. According to modern biological essentialism, intersex, trans and nonbinary people are either monstrous, mistakes or imaginary; all men are fundamentally predisposed to violence, all women are designed for motherhood, and we're meant to just hew to our designated places - which, conveniently, tend to echo a very specific form of Christian ideology, but which in any case manifestly fail to account for how variedly gender has been presented throughout history. It's nuts.

#foz answers things #gender #feminism #biological essentialism #history #sociology

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heliads · 7 months

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Hi!! I miss your Derek fics so much so how’s one where you and him are in a casual relationship if yk what I mean when all of a sudden there’s a mishap that causes him to pull away and end up ghosting you because he caught feelings and is terrified of them, you still try to get in contact with him but got tired of it and that’s when Derek comes back basically begging for a chance to fix it🥺

masterlist

Derek Hale knows he’s gone too far because he’s no longer nervous waking up to hear someone else’s heartbeat next to him. Derek stays alone, always; it saves him the trouble of having to think about saving someone other than himself if he ever wakes up to another roaring inferno. Derek is good at being alone. It’s never something he’s struggled with, even as a lone wolf without a pack. He still talks to other people on occasion. It’s fine.

He’d thought it was fine. Derek had almost gotten to the point of convincing himself of it, and then he started making mistakes like entertaining himself with someone else, and by the time it occurred to him that he was long past the point of no return, there was no way he could ever end it. So he lives with it, it’s fine. Until it isn’t.

Derek Hale has never been the type to get caught up over a girl. He did it once, then swore it would never happen again. There is the idea of Derek, the lone wolf; Derek, the man with a heart colder than ice. He wouldn’t go so far as to describe himself as a womanizer, but he’s dated not one but two of the women who’ve tried to kill him and the other wolves in town, so maybe he should start thinking about raising his standards.

He did, though. That was the problem. Of all the people in this world, good and bad and outright bloodthirsty, Derek found the one woman capable of waltzing right past his best defenses and laying claim to the very organ he thought would never be bothered with again. Derek has long since assumed that, so long as it keeps beating on schedule, he’d never think about his heart unless someone was actively ripping it out of his chest, but Y/N changed that. She changed everything.

It was nothing at first. That’s what he promised himself the first time he woke up in an unfamiliar room that definitely wasn’t in his apartment complex. He nearly jumped out of his skin when he picked up on the sound of someone else breathing evenly next to him, but Y/N had woken up not long after him so they’d been able to talk things through. They’d both agreed that it was a one time thing, the result of years of rising tensions against supernaturals in Beacon Hills, and would never happen again.

The second time, Derek was no less taken aback, but a little more disappointed in himself. Usually, when he makes his word, he sticks to it for longer than a month. He’d left before she woke up that time. Didn’t stop him from crawling back, though. He can blame it on the alcohol that doesn’t affect him, the battle rush of adrenaline he’s long since learned to master. Excuses are easy. Falling is easier still.

Derek doesn’t fall, though. He won’t. Even if it kills him. Especially if it kills him. Derek can lock himself up and cut away his heart and distrust his mind until any conceivable feeling dies off from lack of oxygen. It wouldn’t be the first time. Somehow, he doubts it’ll be the last.

This is all well and good, but it doesn’t work as well as it should. Even now, blinking the last of the past night’s sleep from his eyes, Derek sits up slowly in his own bed, and the sight of Y/N there next to him isn’t surprising. Not at all. His internal alarm system stopped going off around her a long time ago. Hell, he gets more uneasy the longer he goes without seeing her instead of the other way around.

A year ago, he would have called that a mistake. Hales survive because they trust only each other. Y/N may be an ally in this eternally war-torn town, but that does not make her someone he can afford to keep around. Still, when he carefully lifts himself out of bed to avoid waking her, when she comes out of the room about half an hour later in one of his shirts, when Derek can’t quite tell where her perfume ends and his cologne begins, he wonders to himself if he hasn’t already crossed that line a very long time ago.

It doesn’t matter. None of this is real. He doesn’t make her breakfast, she doesn’t say goodbye. They just go about their lives as if the past night had never happened at all, as if none of the nights before that, all stretching out in one vast line of pale, bedsheet-white dominoes do not exist between them. You cannot topple what you do not see, and Derek’s eyes are snapped shut tight.

He’s started noticing things, though, against his better judgment. The furrows in Y/N’s brow vanish while she’s asleep, but they appear again when she looks around at her house or his in the morning and remembers something she’ll never tell him. Her shoulders always rise and pinch together right before she leaves without a word. Derek has started making himself scarce whenever she wakes up. It’s better for both of them if there’s no opportunity to stay any longer.

Most of all, Derek takes care to ensure that whatever happens at night does not affect either of them during the day. Y/N’s more closely allied with the McCall pack than whatever dregs are left of Derek’s ill-gotten attempt to seize power with his own batch of betas, but he still sees her often enough on wolf business. Derek has no doubt that Scott has caught on to the fact that they’re seeing each other, but neither of them will bring it up so long as it doesn’t become a problem.

A couple of times, Derek has felt Scott’s eyes on him like an accusation, burning holes into his shoulders whenever Y/N shows up late or seems listless during the discussions. Derek wants to throw up his hands and declare to anyone who cares to listen or blame him that he’s doing his best to make sure he isn’t the cause, but he doubts any of the younger pack members want to know that he’s specifically trimming off any stem of feeling before it takes root. He’s doing his best, at least. Surely that counts for something.

Still, he can feel their judgment like a plague, even outside of passing glimpses. When Scott McCall shows up at Derek’s door to ask for his help with a sudden hunter shootout at the hospital, Derek can still see the awareness in the back of the kid’s eyes. Y/N’s got her own thing going, Derek wants to clarify, she’s long past school-crush days just like him. They’re both adults and they can do what they please. High school sweethearts all die by hunters’ arrows. The ones who survive don’t play by the rules.

Scott will never bring it up, though, so Derek won’t, either. Instead, he just accompanies Scott to the hospital, where he slashes and stabs at anyone who tries to shoot at him. These sorts of things are becoming normal occurrences by now; Melissa McCall and the other doctors are probably sick of it, but what can you do?

Derek’s only half paying attention. He focuses enough to keep himself alive, but it’s easy to go on autopilot. The hunters will always attack, and they will always defend. Some will get hurt. They’ll heal in time to start the game over again. Nothing new.

It should be nothing new. It is, until Derek rounds a corner and he sees one of the hunters shooting at Y/N’s back. She’s distracted taking out someone else. She won’t react in time, Derek knows it, he can feel it in his bones like a bad frost, and Derek– he actually screams, a guttural shout of despair, and he hurls himself at the hunter. The gun goes flying out of the guy’s hands and into a corner of the room, blood spatters following it a second later. It’s alright again. Y/N is fine.

Y/N, actually, is staring at him in confusion. “What was that about?” She asks slowly.

Derek catches a hazy glimpse of himself in the glass panel of a nearby door and realizes that he looks mad. His eyes are wide, startled, glowing; his claws are out and dripping with gore. “He was going to shoot you,” he says, a little unsteadily, “You weren’t paying attention.”

She shakes her head slowly. “I was, Derek. His gun was empty. No more bullets left, I heard the empty barrel click a minute ago.”

Derek stares at her uncomprehendingly, and Y/N has to cross the room, pick up the fallen hunter’s weapon, and pull the trigger several times until Derek understands. She was right, no ammunition was shot. It was a complete misfire on his end, and something that he should have picked up on far before he decided to strike. If Y/N could hear that the gun was empty from across the room, Derek should have known it from where he stood.

He knows what this means, then. It means he’s making mistakes, and mistakes get you killed. They get everyone killed. Derek hasn’t made a mistake like this in a long time, because he never let anyone in, but he has now, hasn’t he? He’s known it for a long time. Y/N means far more to him than a prolonged one night stand. He has feelings for her, of a depth he couldn’t decipher if given a thousand years trapped inside his own head. Derek Hale has fallen in love, but this love will destroy him. It will make him weak.

And, fuck, Derek knows how this is going to end. How it always ends. He is a fire, consuming everything in his path; burning down his family home; choking the last breath from the lungs of anyone foolish enough to love him. If Y/N realizes that he loves her, if she does something so terrible as to love him back, she will fall before the year is out. They always do, and it will be his fault again, his fault like it was for all the others.

He moves before he knows what he’s doing. Y/N is calling after him, he thinks, but Derek is already rounding the corner and out of the hallway. Hunters in his path are killed by a wolf that might be Derek, if Derek was aware enough of what he was doing to act on anything more than animal instinct. Instead, he just keeps going like a bloodsoaked robot until Scott tells him it’s over, and then he leaves. He does not check in with the rest of the pack. He does not check in with Y/N.

In fact, he does not speak with her again. She tries texting him afterwards to see if he’s alright, and then even shows up at his door when he’s unresponsive for days, but Derek just waits silently in the confines of his apartment until she goes away. She can probably hear his heartbeat, but it doesn’t matter. This will benefit both of them. Neither Derek nor Y/N can afford an attachment like this. He’s already started slipping up in the heat of battle. Who knows what sort of deadly error he will commit next?

If he thought the McCall pack’s judgment was bad enough before, they’re downright diabolical now. He can’t speak to them without being on the receiving end of a thousand hateful stares. Every time he so much as crosses their path, you’d think he murdered their entire family. It’s unreal. Don’t they know he’s doing this for the best?

It’s not like Derek enjoys this, anyway. It’s unnatural. He’s started waking up at odd hours of the night, reaching out for someone who isn’t there. Derek rises with the sun and stares at the empty other half of the bed. He starts to get up quietly and then remembers that there’s no one around who’s still sleeping, so he can be as loud as he pleases. It feels wrong when the floor creaks.

He’s started creeping closer to the door whenever Y/N stops by. He hovers right by the threshold, listening; he can tell by the inflections of her voice that she’s starting to give up hope, and then she stops coming. When a week goes by without a single word from her, Derek thinks that he should be pleased because he’s finally saved her from himself, but instead, all he feels is alone.

It’s not a good feeling, this. Derek thought he would be able to shake off any and all feelings for her in a matter of weeks, but even a month later, he’s still in a terrible state. Lydia starts taking pity on him, he thinks, and actually treats him like a normal human being again, which kind of makes it all worse. He doesn’t want her compassion. He wants–

He wants Y/N. Waking up alone again, hands curling into fists around empty sheets, Derek realizes the earth-shattering truth as if from a dream. He wants her. He wants her more than anything. If this is safety, Derek doesn’t want it. He hates not knowing if she’s alright. He hates thinking that he might have hurt her. If this is the cost of keeping them both alive, Derek would rather be dead.

He throws on his clothes, headed towards the door in a flash. He wakes up early, always has; if he can just get over to her place before she leaves to go to work, maybe it would be okay– maybe she would still want him– maybe he would be enough, now that he knows without a shadow of a doubt that she is for him–

Y/N doesn’t open her door at first, which is, admittedly, justified. Derek’s cheeks flush with shame remembering all the times he’d pointedly ignored her visits. However, she’s better than him, always has been, and opens the door eventually. He looks at her, breathes out at last, and says– “I miss you.”

Y/N arches a brow. “You do?”

“I do,” Derek repeats, “And I’ve been– stupid, really, and I shouldn’t have been. I know better than that.”

Y/N folds her arms across her chest. “What made you change your mind?”

“I realized I love you,” Derek says. It’s only five words, but it makes Y/N sway as if she’s been shot.

“You’re just saying that,” she whispers faintly.

Derek shakes her head. “I’m not the type to throw those words around. You know that. You know me better than anyone, Y/N. Tell me if I’m lying.”

He waits. She stares at him, but at last she nods slowly, and says, “You love me?”

“I love you,” he affirms. Then: “Can I come in?”

A ghost of a smile haunts her lips. “Always so forward, aren’t you?”

He laughs a little, actually. It surprises both of them, Derek the most. “I thought you liked that about me.”

“I do,” she admits, and steps aside to let him pass. Derek lingers by her side, he can’t help it. Moments like these were meant to be treasured. He may have messed up too many of them to count, but for once, Derek can start again. He intends to make the most of it.

teen wolf tag list: @mayfieldss, @rogueanschel, @lovesanimals0000, @rafecameronswhore, @bellabadacadabra, @watchreadfangirlrepeat, @23victoria

all tags list: @wordsarelife

#derek hale #derek hale imagines #derek hale x reader #derek hale oneshot #teen wolf #teen wolf imagines #teen wolf x reader #teen wolf oneshot #teen wolf derek #teen wolf derek imagines #teen wolf derek x reader #teen wolf derek oneshot

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salsasvault · 4 months

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I don't write often but this au has just been sitting in my brain ever since i watched an ep about border security and i need to get it out.

nsfw below, mdni

airportsecurity!ghost + airportsecurity!price x reader

tw: abuse of power, non-con elements, /f!reader/ 18+

It was standard procedure, any sort of suspicious activity needed to be investigated, and it just so happens that was the very flight you were on. Boarding was easy, and the flight was surprisingly pleasant too, a contrast to the intense anxiety you’d felt before the trip, so really everything after that should be a breeze.

Walking into Heathrow Airport gave you a sense of excitement, the trip to London that you had been thinking about finally coming to a reality.

With your carry-on behind you, you made the walk toward the exit, thinking about the trip to the hotel and where you’d eat lunch. As you made your way toward the walkway however multiple TSA agents were blocking the way, the passengers ahead of you already being questioned with their passports in hand.

You let out a quick breath, steading your nerves, this is unusual but then again what do you know about London and their security measures? Trying to suppress the number of anxiety-inducing thoughts, you make your way to one of the available officers. Dressed in a black outfit, name tag reading Riley, in all caps, you look up to meet his eyes. He speaks first.

“Just need to see your passport, and ask a couple of questions.”

“Yeah, no problem! Just give me a second.” You quickly reply, hoping to not raise any suspicion, you really had no reason for him to be suspicious at all but a situation like this left you even more anxious than normal.

Fishing through the handbag, you were thankful for keeping your passport handy, hastily pulling it out, to not waste any more of his time, you hand it over to him.

“Thank you.” He flips it open, glancing at your picture, date of birth, and other information

You silently cringe at the almost 3-year photo old, you haven’t quite mastered the art of government pictures yet.

“And where’ya headed love”

“Just out to London.” You keep your voice steady, trying to keep a sense of calm.

“Alright, you here on business? What’s the reason for your visit?” He glances up at you this time, handing your passport back to you.

You slide it back in your bag while giving him your answer.

“Just here to visit, always wanted to see London.” You say, letting out a nervous laugh at the end of that.

He nods his head. “Are you meeting anyone?” He asks tilting his head.

“Uh yeah, my dad, he flew in earlier, a couple of days ago.”

You respond hoping that this little interaction would be over soon, you weren’t sure how much longer you could chat with a man that looked like him while maintaining composure. Sure he was an officer, but by god was he a good-looking one, you internally scolded yourself for that remark, he’s just doing his job, and thinking about him like that is very wrong. Besides these are highly trained men, so the chances of him knowing you're attracted to him are higher than normal. Of course, normal people probably can't tell.

“A couple of days ago, separate flights?” He questioned.

“Oh yeah. he got a really good deal for the 7th and I was supposed to be on that flight with him but I couldn’t get my time off for that date, hence why, the later meeting.” You gave him a timid smile, gesturing slightly with your hands, hoping that answers any of his questions. You were truthful and didn’t say anything to raise suspicion, so really you should be able to go so you could then blush profusely at the close contact and his accent.

He glanced back at what seemed to be his superior officer, receiving a nod from him you assume you’re in the clear. That was until he opened his mouth.

“Okay, I’m just gonna ‘ave you come back with me, for a couple more questions.”

Your heart dropped, swallowing you gave him a an awkward smile.

“Yeah, yeah no problem.”

“Follow me this way.”

You followed him as he led the way, the nervous thoughts that had so far remained in check started to spring loose. What if they falsely accuse you of something and you can’t prove you didn't do it? God, you had just watched a documentary of a man who spent 30 years in prison for something he didn’t do, what if the next movie’s about you? Cringing internally, you shove everything away, focusing on remaining as calm and composed as possible.

Simon knew they had already apprehended the suspect, they received a tip from the JFK airport that there may have been someone smuggling some form of narcotics, and it was their job to search for them. Stopping passengers was not a common practice but Simon’s done his fair share. Ask the usual questions, confirm their passport, and look for any details that may give anything away.

When you approached him, the only free officer, he felt something stir in his stomach. A young thing, innocent looking, fresh off the plane. He knew you were most definitely not the suspect they were looking for, nonetheless, he proceeded with the standard procedure.

After hearing the first words come out of your mouth, he immediately turned to glance at Price. Both sharing the same look he went back to the task at hand. Pre Deciding they couldn’t just let a pretty thing like you escape from their grasp. He listened to every word you said, a small smirk playing at his lips from the nervousness that lightly dripped from your voice. Poor girl, all alone, being stopped in an unknown country, he could feel the anxiety rolling off of you no matter how much you tried to hide it.

So when he knew he was just about done and ready to take you back, he gave Price one last look, a sly smile tugging on his face, and a nod following. Nothing felt as good as watching you slowly pale after he told you he’d need to bring you back for questioning.

Sitting in the chair opposite to, what looked to be one of the two officers' desks, you bounced your leg up and down. Your luggage tucked in the corner, your phone in hand as you waited for either of them to arrive. You unlock your phone sending a quick text to your Dad, telling him you were caught up with security and they just had some questions to ask you. In return you receive the classic Dad response, a single thumbs up followed by a: “Don’t worry, you’ll be out soon.” Your Dad, ever so helpful.

When the door opened you stilled glancing back to see both men enter, the previous officer, Riley, and a man who looked just slightly older than him, name tag reading Price.

You mentally sighed and cursed at your luck, not only were you stopped for extra questioning but of course as fate would have it both officers had to be stupidly good-looking.

If your underwear started to gain a slight wetness to it, it definitely has nothing to do with them.

Officer Riley locked the door behind him, going to stand in the corner as his superior moved to sit behind the desk.

“I’m Officer Price, we just ‘ave a couple o’ questions to ask ya.” He clears his throat, his demeanor straight to the point.

You glance at his hands, folded on the table, we you wait to answer anything he throws at you.

"You said you were meeting your Dad?" He waits for confirmation looking back down at the paper.

“Yes, He flew a couple days ago.” He shifts.

“Alright, now ma’am, I’m going to be honest here, we were alerted by JFK that there was someone who was potentially smuggling drugs.” He glances up at you before returning his gaze to whatever was on his paper. All the while Officer Riley’s eyes burn holes through you. Your eyes momentarily flicker to his before you return your gaze to the man sitting in front of you.

A small “Oh” was all you could manage, if your heart could drop any further, it did. Your heart rate slowly rises, you know you didn’t smuggle anything, but the thought of being put away for something you didn’t do sat heavy on your mind.

A cute little thing you were, sat fidgeting in front of Price, each word coming out of his mouth made you shrink. He could practically feel the anxiousness oozing off of you. No fret, you’ll feel better soon. He knew that none of this was necessary, all for show so he and Simon could have their way with you. If they were on their own personal lunch break you wouldn't know, he continued, explaining what would happen next.

“I’m just going to have Officer Riley here search your bag if that’s alright.” He voices, he looks down at the same sheet of paper, and then raises it back up to look at you.

“Yeah! That-That’s no problem.” You sit in your seat as you watch Officer Riley move to grab your luggage, mentally going through anything in there that could raise concerns.

He lifts the suitcase, setting it down on the metal table tucked in the corner. Unzipping it, he opens it, revealing your clothes and the various little bags you made to separate your toiletries. He goes through the clothes, sifting through each, one by one, unfolding and rearranging. He lifts a pair of your black lace underwear, holding it up and inspecting it.

Your cheeks burn, your face hot in embarrassment.

Once he’s satisfied with the extent he’s searched, he closes the bag, zipping it back and placing it on the floor.

“No issues detected Sir.”

“Good, alright following protocol were gonna ‘ave to search ya.” His scouse accent trickling through.

You felt another wave of heat and embarrassment and hint of wetness flooding you. Rendered a little you speechless, you nod. Answering finally,

“I-okay, you-okay.”

Officer Riley from his position in the corner.

“ Need ya t’a spread your arms for me, move those legs apart too-yeah just like tha'.”

He really had no reason to sound so sexual for something as tame as a search. You did as told though, following his orders. His hands roaming across your body patting down any areas “necessary”, you chalked off the extra time he spent on your breasts and crotch to another ‘simply doing his job’. Once the search was over he straightened up, telling his superior that it was all clear. You finally let out a breath, hoping to be let free.

“Last step and we’ll send you out, I’ll be conducting a strip search.”

At this point whatever forces that were out there were torturing you, you could no longer hide the wetness pooling inside your underwear. And the shock running through your body made sure you were unable to form words. You gave a nod in replacement to the stuttering alternative.

He walked you over to the table where your luggage had just been, bending you at the waist. As your heart rate picked up, you then open your mouth.

“I’m sorry-but is this really necessary, I mean I’ve never committed any crime, like ever, and my suitcase is clear I-”

“Just do as you're told, if you have nothing to hide you should have no issues.”

You quickly close your mouth as his hands pull your pants down roughly, pooling at your feet. Your underwear clinging to you, the wetness apparent. He continues his “search”, pulling at your underwear, letting it fall alongside your pants.

You squeak out a sound of embarrassment, eyes filling with humiliation. He presses up against you, fingers moving up and down your slit. The faintest groan could be heard, from who, you weren’t sure.

“Fucking dripping.” He lets out a chuckle, as you go to protest. Before you can get anything out however he shoves a finger inside.

Your eyes screw shut, as he thrusts his finger into you, adding a second to join in.

“Part of the procedure, sweetheart.”

You let out small breaths, the faintest whines following after, as you tried to conceal your noises. He hits a spot inside you causing you to choke out a gasp. Price lets out a noise of approval, choosing to then continuously hit that spot.

“You-” you let out a small moan, as he rubs around your g-spot, your brain short-circuiting.

“What’s that? You gonna ‘ave to speak up love.” He taunts, relishing in your embarrassment.

He continues his ministrations, his other hand coming to roughly rub at your clit. You can’t help the small moans that leave your mouth, as you try to hold them back.

“Oh fuck-”

You hear Officer Riley move toward you, manhandling your body so your splayed at the corner, backside facing Price while, face level with his crotch. He crouches down slowly to meet your eyes.

“Be as loud as you want lovie, no one can hear ya.” He probe his finger in your mouth, as you keep it clasped shut.

“Have t’a search it, part of the procedure.”

Price hits that spot inside you harder, causing you to let out another moan, mouth opening for him.

“Perfect.” He groans out, fingers pushing your tongue down.

“Where ‘ave they been hiding ya?” He smirks, standing to unbutton his pants, a noise of surprise is let out by you, muffled by his fingers.

Left hand singularly undoing his belt. Shoving his pants down, stopping at his knees.

His cock springs out, thick and large, your eyes widening at the sight.

Price behind you pulls his fingers out abruptly, helping you regain some consciousness you open your mouth to protest at the man infront of you.

Your actions however, are interrupted by the thick length being shoved inside you from the man at your backside.

“Have to be thorough.” He lets out a laugh, dark eyes feeding off the sight of you.

You choke a sound of surprise, as he almost immediately starts a brutal pace. The man in front of you speaks.

“You're gonna be a good girl for me, open up nice and wide.” He clicks his tongue.

You shake your head until Price drives into you especially hard. Mouth opening in surprise.

“That’s it, good girl.” You gasp around his length, being fucked into by the pair of them.

Price chimes in from behind.

“Look at you, such a good girl letting two officers fuck you, making sure she’s not causing any trouble.” He reaches over to rub at your clit, fingers moving in quick circular motions. Both of them rocking into you at a brutal pace.

You feel yourself approaching your climax, with muffled moans and cries.

“Can you feel clenching around me sweetheart, be a good girl, come on my cock, that's it.” He groans, his pace speeding up as the other approaches his climax as well.

After a harsh rub to your clit you come, body shaking as tears leak from your eyes. Price continues his thrusts, as you inadvertently suck him in, the little whines vibrating around Simons's cock. They both finally come with a low groan, thick salty liquid coating your tongue and insides as you struggle to swallow.

“Fuckin’ hell.” The man in front of you moans out.

They both slowly slide out, leaving you boneless on the table, as you whine out at the movement.

“Quite the mess.” Price comments, a dark laugh following from the man in front of you.

You make an exhausted noise in response. Quite the mess indeed.

#simon ghost riley x reader #john price x reader #salsawritesforonce #simon ghost riley x you #simon riley smut #john price smut #captain john price x reader #cod mw2 #cod smut #john price x reader smut

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heartandfangs · 1 year

Text

THEN EARN IT.

GENRE Married Couple AU, Romance, Smut

PAIRING CEO!Husband!Jay x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS 18+ ONLY MDNI, Cursing, Mention of anxiety, Lingerie, Mention of food/working out/body image/sex toy use, Teasing, Masturbation, Making out, Multiple orgasms, Oral Sex (f!receiving), Hand job, Oversensitivity, Shower/Wall Sex, Nipple play, Alcohol, Unprotected sex, Fingering, Dom!Jay, Sub!Reader, Dom!Reader, Sub!Jay, Switch!Reader, Switch!Jay

SUMMARY After several weeks of being apart, your husband has a bit of making up to do for Valentine's Day after missing your call and showing up late to the penthouse.

WORD COUNT 4.8k

AUTHOR’S NOTE I'm so sorry I clowned everyone who was waiting for this drop the week of Valentine's (I got sooo busy i'm the biggest clown of them all) but I made it 5x longer than I first intended to and it's hot but also v intimate 🥵🌶

I’ve always considered Jay to be husband material, and here's a fic to show for it. If you wanna edge your brain out to husband CEO Jay in a penthouse, this is for you ♥️ Follow, like & share if you enjoyed! ⚰️ Masterlist © 2021-2023, Heart and Fangs. All rights reserved. Do not translate or post anywhere.

It was certainly something being young and married to Park Jongseong. Well, you wondered if you could be considered young anymore; perhaps to your older coworkers who were empty nesters, you could. To them, you had your whole life set ahead of you, but maybe you were viewed differently by your freshly graduated interns striving to get by the rigorous training standards you set for the Park's company.

Regardless, you felt young.

In a way, Jay made you feel like you had never aged a day since meeting him, and at the same time, it felt like you'd lived someone else's lifetime. Funny how a mere man could affect you so…

And how the prolonged separation between you two never got any easier over the years.

You were the partner who took it all in stride best. Not to say that Jay wasn't a persevering individual; he was your role model in that sense.

But he was undoubtedly the more clingy one; you had just been raised differently.

After years of getting to know Jay and growing close enough to call him by nickname, it seemed like he was rarely given a chance to work past his anxieties as a child. You've witnessed him grow immensely, and you both had done what you had to do when duty called— whether that meant taking care of business during a month spent apart in different states or even countries.

The possibility of infidelity has crossed your mind during these times; such thoughts were only normal, yet you chose to trust him fully and knew he trusted you too.

After all, they say distance makes the heart grow fonder, and the unwavering admiration Jay regards you with gives you the strength to approach each day with an assuredness that everything will be okay at the end of it.

In fact, your husband's signature brand of adoration only grew until it was too much to contain every damn time you finally reunited.

Not that you ever complained with how exquisite of a lover he grew to be thanks to your guidance and vice-versa. Nor could you ever tire from the spoils of a blessed life, and Jay knew this fact incredibly well.

However, since your flight into this new city touched down first, you took it upon yourself to prepare the penthouse you two booked with personal touches to celebrate a belated Valentine's. An overrated 'holiday,' at least by your standards, but your husband managed to change your perspective and always made it an occasion to look forward to since the year he met you.

Of course, business only got busier throughout your marriage. Although you two agreed for the first time to celebrate Valentine's together a few days late this year, the compromise was a bit disheartening.

The two of you only exchanged a short phone call that night and a few words of longing but nothing more, which was uncharacteristic of Jay.

He must’ve been exhausted.

And now, he was running late— much later than the ETA he originally shared with you.

A plethora of reasons for his hold-up came to mind, and you were beginning to grow worried. Perhaps he was just touching down? Or his phone died? Maybe caught in traffic? It was storming outside, after all…

Even after you'd showered, slathered on your favorite whipped body butter, and thrown on a satin robe, ensuring your complexion was dewy with skincare, you still felt uneasy inside.

While waiting for Jay's call on the leather sofa, you indulged in a favorite remedy; a full glass of red wine had been calling your name hours ago.

After swallowing the last drop of wine, you attempted to relax into the cushions with a heavy sigh and shut your eyes, a dull pain throbbing between your furrowed brows. You were left with no choice but to wait in the dark.

A knock from the entryway drew you from sleep. You slowly reached for your phone to see several unread messages from Jay, the most recent one reading 'I'm here'.

You couldn't have reached the door quicker.

Jay stood in the doorway, a damp umbrella snapped in half in one hand and a dozen red roses with drenched petals in the other. He looked handsome as ever; no amount of rain could hamper his looks, droplets soaking into his thick lashes and brows.

Your brows rose at his state and that he was alive and well. "Jay."

"This cheap ass umbrella inverted the moment I stepped out of the Uber," Jay stated with a straight face, a huff leaving his chest as he stepped inside and dropped the umbrella.

He automatically raised his arms to embrace you but thought better of it as he took in your rather dry attire with a soft smile, the kind that was only ever reserved for you behind closed doors. He slowly admired you from head to toe, releasing a quiet exhale. You couldn't have felt warmer under your thin excuse of a robe.

"You look beautiful. I'm sorry I'm late," Jay lightly caressed your lower back with a certain sweetness in his touch, knowing precisely what it did to you between your thighs.

You reached out first to draw him against your chest tightly. As if you cared about a little bit of rainwater.

"It's about time," you murmured against his neck, pulling back to meet those eyes you missed peering into over meals and late-night conversations, "Do you know how worried I was? Have you eaten yet—"

Within a mere blink, you felt Jay's fingers slide through the locks of your hair, and his lips move against yours with an urgency that reminded you of your college days spent entwined together, fogging up the windows of his vintage car parked on a hill.

In fact, it was a starved, apologetic kiss worth three long weeks of pent-up frustration from tirelessly rubbing shoulders with investors and back-to-back business meetings without your calm, grounding presence by his side at the end of the day.

Letting his thoughts run wild about you past midnight and well into his dreams did nothing to quell his heart and body's immense ache for you.

It wasn't nearly enough to fist himself underneath the steaming shower head, feeling like he was about to faint from both burnout and a heady sense of self-fulfilling lust that never quite satisfied. He needed to feel you in his arms, against his beating chest, spilling over his parched lips.

To delight in every pitch of your airy voice, depending on the sweet spots he chose to assault with his tongue and deft fingers.

That's why, while he'd usually continue with charming conversation and offer the smuggest of smiles, all he could do right now was press closer to you like some sort of pitiful creature starved of affection stealing away your warmth, the plush-like softness of your breasts against his firm chest reminding him of all that lay ahead for you two on this well-earned night to be spent reacquainting himself with your body and soul— not that he'd ever forgotten in the slightest.

It didn't matter that his flight had gotten delayed, that it'd taken him one too many hours than it should have to meet you in the middle because you stood before him now like some sort of mirage, beautiful and as lovely as ever.

"Jay," You tried to scold despite your cheeks heating up.

"Haven't eaten yet," Your husband confessed, dragging his lips over the curve of your throat with such a tenderness that threatened to buckle your knees. He dropped his palms to knead greedily over the satin fabric draped over your ass in contrast, making you moan softly, "M' starving though. Indulge me a bit with something sweet before dinner, please?"

You sighed, amused, "Dessert before dinner? Think you deserve it?"

With swift fingers, you were already loosening the knot of his tie, which he offered you a grateful look for while running his hands up your spine and shamelessly pressing his hardness between your thighs. Your proximity alone was riling him up, and by handing over the reins, he knew exactly what you would do in response to his overwhelming neediness.

"Oh, I'll earn it," Jay hotly whispered against your lips, practically melding himself to you in any way he could.

"So willing," The soft corners of your tinted lips tugged upwards as you brushed a strand of dark hair from his half-lidded eyes, feeling Jay shiver beneath his suit.

"Anything and everything for you," He nodded, a knowing smile forming on his lips.

It seemed like your baby was counting on you to kill him slowly.

You took the bouquet from his grasp and enjoyed its rosy fragrance before setting it aside on the glass dining table. "Come on. You deserve a hot bath after such a long day, love."

So you tugged him along by his necktie into the spacious master bedroom that reminded you of a lot of the homes you built together. Upon entering, one first noticed the long panel of windows that reached the ceiling lining the left wall, overlooking the city's vast nightlife below.

Of course, the only view Jay could possibly focus on with parted lips was the sway of your hips and the subtle outline of lingerie he managed to make out under your robe, for you knew he adored lace on your skin just as much as leather.

As enticing as the massive bed in the center appeared, he followed you into the softly lit master bathroom with a rainfall shower above the enormous tub. With a push of a silver button on the wall panel, the tub began to fill with bubbling, hot water; it could fit a good ten individuals if desired.

You let him look over the space while bending over to light up the several candles you arranged along the wide marble edges of the jacuzzi with a pack of matches.

"Leave it to you to find a place like this," Jay complimented you for your impeccable taste, watching your face through the extensive wall-length mirror just above the tub.

The space immediately began to smell of elegant rum and white musk. The master bathroom was alight with candles thanks to your quick work, a haze of vapor wafting over the tub's edge.

"It's all ours for tomorrow and the day after."

"We'll have to make every second count then…" You could feel his gaze licking up your legs just by the hunger tinging his voice like curls of smoke.

"Like we always do," You flicked your wrist to extinguish the match and toss it into a silver bin before making your way back to Jay, slowly smoothing your palms across his clothed chest and broad shoulders, simply taking him in for the first time in what felt like an eternity.

Due to time differences and your schedules being packed more than usual this past month, personal calls were seldom made between you, aside from virtual business meetings involving other potential clients and shareholders.

Jay's eyes were alight with excitement as he stared down at you despite the shadows beneath them; you couldn't keep yourself from drawing his face close and placing a kiss on his lips while his hands moved restlessly across your waist, his hips nudging against yours.

"Mm, please…"

"Patience, baby," You reminded and gave him an expectant look that he heeded.

Although he couldn't wait, he knew better than to speed up the process you so enjoyed dragging out. Piece by piece, you started to strip him bare, unhurried and teasingly in the most intimate manner.

First, you slipped his tie from his nape, reminded of all the times you've used it as a blindfold or to bind his wrists, then you shoved off his blazer. His wet shirt stuck to his skin like a transparent fabric, and you undid button after button to reveal his toned chest just above a sharply etched set of abs, rainwater, and spiced cologne clinging to his skin.

"Honestly, I haven't had much time to work out these days…" Jay's tongue clicked in dissatisfaction, although you noticed his eyelashes lowering at you. His palm rested against the pulse of your neck, fingers softly curling into your hair.

You cut him off right there, your heated touch under his clothes pulling a restrained moan from his throat. "Missing a few workouts won't hurt you, just don't skip your meals. Quit being so hard on yourself," You reassured him, tugging the ends of his shirt out of his cut waistline and traveling even lower, "You're definitely overthinking it."

Jay cracked a relieved smile, stroking your face, "I have to when my beloved is this beautiful… Ah—"

Your fingertips rubbed lightly over the outline of his throbbing bulge, causing his hips to chase your touch until you finally dropped his trousers to the floor in a haphazard pile, leaving Jay in his tight briefs.

"Fucking driving me crazy…" He caressed your cheek and over your arm in the most pleading manner, his chest rising and falling heavily. You sorely missed the sound of his belabored breaths tickling your ears.

With a lick of your lips, you finally dragged the band of Jay's black briefs down his thighs to witness his hard cock springing forth and dribbling with precum.

After scraping your nails down his hips and brushing past his trail of hair, your caress just ghosted along his length; all he had to do was press forward, and then he'd finally feel you—

"Go and hop in. I'll be right back with drinks," You stroked Jay's chin as you disappeared into the bedroom to retrieve a bottle of champagne and chilled flutes from the mini-fridge.

"Fuck," You heard him drawl under his breath, causing you to smirk.

His feet were already bringing him to climb over the marble ledge into the tub, but his inner cheek was caught between his teeth, a knot bobbing in his throat due to desperation. He wobbled a bit before descending into the bath, terribly dizzy, no thanks to you.

Upon re-entering, you found it adorable that Jay sank into the heated water and looked up at you with anticipation. The warmth should've begun to release the tension throughout his body, but it persisted, thanks to your enticing visage.

While you perched on the ledge and busied yourself with pouring champagne, Jay momentarily pulled up near your legs and pressed a chaste kiss against your knee, stroking his hands under the edge of your satin robe.

Experiencing the desire of his touch after so long took your breath away; he squeezed your thigh as you handed him a bubbly glass full of almond-scented champagne.

Jay caught your wrist, bringing it to his lips to place soft yet insatiable kisses up your palm and inner wrist, gazing into your eyes all the while.

"I missed you," He reiterated sincerely, making your cheeks warm despite that hours had passed since you last had anything to drink. "I'm sorry I didn't call you back on Thursday. My schedule really got the best of me this week…"

You could hear the guilt lingering in his voice.

In a typical fashion, you clinked the rim of his glass before knocking the flute back completely, and Jay followed suit.

You swiped your tongue over your lips, setting the glass aside. "Hm, I suppose you have a bit to make up for, don't you?"

"A lot," Jay reached out to tip your chin towards him and captured your moistened lips, a gesture you returned easily.

"And you will. But first, you can start by sitting back and letting me take care of you, love."

You dipped your legs into the water while seated on the ledge, ushering Jay to sit back between them as you pumped an intoxicating sweet musk-scented gel into your palm. His immediate obedience pleased you; he leaned into your touches as you slowly lathered his body to your satisfaction.

Brushing over his nipples alone drew rumbly sounds from Jay's throat, but it wasn't until you leaned further over his shoulder and slid your hand down his abdomen to rub against the base of his cock that he failed to choke back a groan.

"Fuck, you're killing me," Jay echoed your thoughts as his chest heaved, enduring your teasing.

You hummed knowingly, continuing to pump him from base to tip while nibbling at his reddened ear and flicking his nipple with the other hand. He began thrusting into your grip, chasing a high only you could grant him as you brought him closer and closer to his end…

And then you straightened up, pulling away.

"No, no…" Jay turned on you with a whine and placed his hands on either side of your clothed hips, hauling himself slightly out of the water to press near. You weren't making this easy on him at all.

You felt the water from his body soak through your robe but kept your hands off him. "Thought you were gonna be good for me?"

"I am, but you're teasing me too much," He insisted, rubbing circles into your hips, making you throb between your thighs.

"Don't you think it's about time for you to start making up for things?"

His eyelashes lowered before he dipped his head down to your lace-covered chest. You felt the surface of his hot tongue dip against your cleavage and swirl up your decollete before he started sucking hungry kisses into your skin.

No time was spared in disrobing you to reveal your tight set of strappy, sensual lingerie, a deep crimson against your gorgeous skin. The red mesh lined across your breasts and mound did little to cover the perkiness of your nipples and the sheen of arousal in the place Jay wanted to taste you the most.

He squeezed your breasts, continuing his trail of kisses down your smooth, soft torso with a dimming look in his eyes. Your soft chuckle turned into a gasp when Jay suddenly parted your knees with a firm hold and pressed his tongue against your mesh-covered slit, tasting the sweet excitement you'd been hiding from him since he stepped into the penthouse.

"Oh—"

The steam rolling off the water paired with the champagne on an empty stomach already made you lightheaded, let alone how Jay started working his tongue over your swollen pussy.

"That's perfect, baby," You praised him, lifting your hips off the ledge so he could remove your panties, although they were lovely on you for the moment.

He determined long ago that your body laid bare was something to be worshiped altogether.

"You're perfect," He emphasized with a gentle kiss against your clit, followed by a messy lap of his tongue down to your slit and back up to capture your clit once more.

Your breath shuddered, eyes shutting with your head tipped back to focus on the incredible sensations of Jay's lips and tongue— his skills never disappointed you. He did his share of messing with you as well; the circles over your nub would grow lazy, and the thrusting of his tongue, shallow, until you slid your hands through his hair, bucking your hips for more.

A glint in Jay's eyes appeared; he relished how you tugged on his strands for a bit longer, and then he indulged you.

His thumb firmly but gently rolled over your clit with swift expertise while he buried his tongue deep into your plush insides, ready to savor the taste of your release. You counted the few seconds you could hold out until your insides clenched and pleasure pulsed outwards towards the tips of your fingers and toes.

"Fuck— M-Mmn, Jay!"

The orgasm Jay gave you was blinding and debilitating as if syrup was released into your veins, making you feel completely euphoric.

With each jerk against his face, you spilled more onto his tongue— could feel him wiggle his wet muscle even deeper as he sought after every drop. He knew that for as lavish a lifestyle you loved to live with him, you still never liked to waste.

Even as you were trembling through the aftershocks of your high, he slid two of his thick fingers into you and proudly dragged his heavy tongue around your puffy clit, his mischievous intent made clear.

He wanted to see you wrecked.

"Haah— Jay—"At the whiny sound of his name, he stroked your insides, building up the tension in your tummy once more and way faster than you could comprehend.

"Mm," Jay groaned against your clit with each kiss and suckle like he was enjoying every bit of you. The pads of his fingers rubbed at your sweet spot with vigor and quickly made you lose control of your limbs.

Jay heard your breath stutter as your thighs clamped firmly around his head. You haphazardly slid onto your back, head dangling off the marble ledge as he ruthlessly drew your next orgasm from your body.

"Oh god," You moaned helplessly, warm pussy pulsating around Jay's fingers as he fucked you hard with them, "A-Ah— Ahh!"

Your hole gushed more this time, squirting across his hand and coating his chin as he readily swallowed all of you. You tugged at your nipples and writhed in delight with each soft peck he placed on your sensitive skin.

Jay just adored seeing you so content after pleasing you to the fullest, or so you thought.

Not a moment later, he stood tall above you, and you let him pull you into his arms, hopping up so you could wrap your legs around his waist. He held you against him firmly, letting you slide against his hard length trapped against your abdomen. The rain shower lightly misted down over your intertwined bodies.

"Guess you haven't lost your touch," You murmured, tracing your nails down his neck.

In two short steps, he slammed you back against the fogged mirror with enough force to send jolts of excitement through your body, but he cushioned the back of your head with his hand. Your heart thrummed against your chest, entrance already dripping with fresh arousal.

"Never," Jay kissed you hard, making you believe he meant it.

The wetness between your legs was evident as it mingled with his, "Feel free to divorce me the day I do."

"Jay, don't say that. I was just joking—"

"If there comes a day I can't make you cum all over me, I don't deserve you. That's a fact."

"Fine then, same goes for me."

He huffed, kissing your collarbone, "You don't ever have to worry about that."

You laughed and rolled your hips eagerly against his, "It doesn't make sense for you to hold only yourself to that standard."

He raised his head to look you in the eye seriously, "I know, I just… I'm not always there for you, although I want to be. Everything in our life is amazing, but… if we lose it all to something out of our control— I just want you to always be happy. With or without me."

Your brows rose in slight surprise at the combination of insecurity and vulnerability in his confession.

"I'm always with you, Jay. It's gotten tough before, and it'll get tough again, but that's what we signed up for the day we got married, and it's not ever going to deter me from wanting to be with you for life."

Jay seemed to be absorbing your reassuring words, the knot between his brows relaxing, a relieved smile forming on his flushed lips.

"Besides, you can't fail. You have me by your side," You reminded Jay confidently of your business track record, stealing a kiss from him.

He laughed, "I'm sorry for ever doubting you, my love."

"Again. If you're so sorry, prove it…"

You saw that he trusted your previous words like you trusted him with you in his arms, so he swiftly lifted you by the hips, his grip on your ass positively possessive, and sunk you down onto the blushing tip of his aching cock.

"Mmh, that I can do."

He kept you there, and frustratedly, you tugged down the straps of your bralette and unlatched the band, throwing it far over Jay's shoulder onto the floor. Jay's tongue found your hard nipples, flicking over them as you bounced on the tip of his cock, the moist sounds echoing off the damp walls.

"Jay, I swear to god if you don't—!"

Right then, he sheathed you fully on his cock, letting you feel the way he throbbed while you squeezed him tight. The moans you both let out sounded equally desperate; it was maddening.

"God— look at you, swallowing up my cock so easily even though it's been a few weeks. Been playing with yourself, haven't you? Making use of the dildo that I sent you the day I left?"

You blushed, thinking back to the nights you filled yourself to the brim with Jay's ridiculous yet genius idea of a customized dildo, and admitted the truth, "Maybe, but it doesn't compare to you."

"What do you mean? It's my cock," Jay smirked, hell-bent on teasing you even though it was his idea to give it to you.

Although they managed to capture each pulsing vein and even the curve of his cock…

"Can't feel it throb or get harder," You insisted, "It doesn't feel hot or—"

Jay thrusted sharply, causing you to cry out in pleasure. "Or what?"

"Or reach deep enough—"

He drew closer, "And?"

"It doesn't fill me up with cum like you do." Your demure eyes, heavy with dew, pinned him in place as he noticed the longing in them.

"That what you want, my love? Want me to pump your sweet pussy full of my cum?"

"Fuck yeah," You gnawed on your lower lip with a breathy giggle.

With that, he pistoned his hips up into you even harder right as you tightened around his cock. Jay watched your eyes roll into the back of your head, getting lost in the heat of the moment, a sight he never tired of seeing. His balls ached with the urgent need to fill you up, so he pressed you against the wall, tightening his hold around you while his other hand found your sensitive little clit.

"Gimme one more then, sweetheart, c'mon," He encouraged, rolling his hips up into your heat while working his fingers 'round and 'round your sticky clit.

The entirety of your body shook immensely once more, your nails unintentionally clawing stripes of red across his shoulder blades at the overwhelming sensations bombarding you.

"I love you, ___," You heard Jay pant against your ear before letting go of the unbearable tension seizing your core.

Your cries of pleasure drove him to release, cock twitching as he filled you up with cum that spilled from your entrance with each thrust, punctuated by a deep growl.

"There," Jay pressed a sweet kiss to your lips and ground into you one last time, watching your eyes flutter, "My baby's stuffed to the brim with my cum..."

You hummed happily against his cheek, could feel him leaking out of you.

Jay slid your body back down into the comforting warm water as you caught your breath in his arms.

"Geez… I think I'm gonna be sore tomorrow morning," You admitted.

"I'd be more than willing to give you a little massage then."

"That sounds really lovely," Your lips curled into a smile as you stretched your arms overhead and wrapped them around Jay's neck, "Not so sure about relaxing, though."

"Why not both an invigorating massage and then a relaxing massage? One after the other, no extra charge?" That roguish smirk of Jay's was back again.

"Two for the price of one?" You feigned a curious peek at him. Your husband's smile had gone soft.

"Only for you, my love."

You gave him a pointed look, "And the price is?"

"You stay for my three-course breakfast afterward." He watched your eyes grow big in excitement, seeing that he hadn't had the chance to cook a homemade meal for you in months.

"So long as it's breakfast in bed," You couldn't help but beam up at him.

"You read my mind," Jay licked at your lips for permission, and you slid your tongue against his in kind.

Jay locked his lips with yours for a deep yet present kiss, one that expressed much more than mere words ever could— and when he slowly pulled back, he could see his future reflected in your eyes just as he did on the day he married you; him by your side, for as long as you'd have him.

A forever earned.

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sahyoluvr · 11 months

Text

solemn - huh yunjin x femreader pt 2

genre: enemies to lovers, jealousy, angst, fluff

warnings: swearing, suicidal thoughts, lots of dialogue sorry

part 1

(requested by anons)

____________________________________________

since the initial moment you spared in the elevator with yunjin, there had been many similar incidences. you’d find yourselves hiding from the other members saturating yourselves in hot kisses and high tension. despite this, you still hadn’t been able to hold a comfortable conversation with her and talk to her casually. you’d get fucked and leave her room straight after.

in the beginning you’d seen yunjin had made effort in acting civil towards you, aligning with the other members in comforting you when you’d get negative comments from instructors or fans. but still, it wasn’t up to the standard of verbally involving in defence.

you lay in the arms of sakura on the sofa, she gently brushes your hair with the tips of her fingers. eunchae and kazuha were confiding in movements of the choreography, while chaewon seemed to be telling yunjin a story.

“so cute,” sakura whispers as she continues to caress your head.

you laugh and hit her, “shut up, unnie.”

“i’m serious!” she laughs.

your banter continues in a loud manner catching yunjin’s attention. as your bickering had died down, you lay back down in the same position. when yunjin noticed this her face turned sour and her heart ached.

“and so yena unnie-” chaewon stops, as she notices yunjin’s lessened intent of listening, “yunjin?”

“huh?” yunjin quickly turns back to chaewon, “yeah?”

“are you okay? you don’t look well,” chaewon asks, concerned for her odd behaviour.

“yeah i’m fine,” she replies, “i have a bit of a headache, i might go to the bathroom.”

“okay…”

yunjin dismisses herself from the practice room, aiming toward the bathroom.

you jump as you hear the door slam, you scan the room to look for yunjin’s face but she’s no where to be seen. in curiosity, you lift yourself up from sakura’s body and follow in yunjin’s footsteps.

a part of you felt relief, gaining the opportunity to de stress with yunjin but another part of you bottled up with fear in hopes of more argument.

when you enter the bathroom, you watch yunjin comb her hands through her hair in an act of frustration, and soon and she’s sees you; she stops, and stares.

“are you,” you pause in hesitation, “okay?”

“what’s it to you anyway?” yunjin scoffs turning away from you and looking back into the mirror at herself.

you sigh in the lack of civil engagement, “look,” you say, “can we ta-”

“were you having fun with sakura there?” she quickly turns back to look at you in eyes with intimidation.

“i’m sorry what?” you were baffled by the sudden interruption and subsequent change of subject.

“i saw you two, kkura unnie had her hands all over you and she would not take her eyes off you,”

“okay? and?” you look at her, bewildered by the act of her accusation, “what’s it you?”

you play at her previous words, internally proud of your comeback.

“i’ve had enough of your bullshit,” she says, deadpanned.

you laugh at her discrepancy, “are you jealous?”

“well, what does it fucking look like?”

“oh no, baby,” you half laugh, half talk, “you have no fucking right to be jealous.”

“why is that, huh?”

“because!” your voice raises, “we aren’t a couple! we’re just a fucked up, i don’t know, fling?! i’m not just your fucking rag doll that you get to throw around and fuck, i’m a person”

“you can’t be serious!” yunjin’s volume level synchronises to yours, “your the one that comes to my room, wants to fuck me and then leaves straight after!”

“because you don’t talk to me! you don’t listen to me! you still hold a big ass egoist grudge against me and it’s getting on my nerves.” you spit.

“but you always come running back to me, don’t you?”

you fall silent. she’s right, but there’s still more to say.

“stop trying to change the subject,” you say sternly, “don’t think i haven’t noticed that you’ve made little to no effort in the one thing i’ve asked for you. you still don’t have the guts to stick up for me, even after everything.”

“i’m trying!” she whines splaying her arms around in defence.

“bullshit! what’s so fucking hard for you to understand that i’m not asking for you to be all over me, i’m asking for you to defend a member of your team, your career!”

yunjin stays quiet, but you continue.

“i’m so tired of arguing, jennifer, frankly i’m tired of everything, trying to be a good friend and good a member, trying to dance to your standards, trying to sing, trying to be an idol, trying to stay alive!”

“yn-” she’s cut off by your loud voice.

“and because you don’t have a fucking care in the world to talk to me, nor look at me, i suppose, you don’t know that i’ve asked to see a therapist because your on the verge of losing a member. of their existence.”

you continue. you have trouble speaking, choking on your words every few seconds.

“i’m just not enough for you, am i? i feel like i eat, sleep, work and i can’t even spend time with the one person that i, god hope, i could love,” you stop and look at her in the eyes, “honestly, do whatever you want with me, i’ve lost all of my self respect, there’s no reason not to.”

“don’t say something you’ll regret, yn,” she stops you, “you know for a fact i wouldn’t think to do anything as disgusting as that.”

you crumble at her words, tears pricking at the brims of your eyes. what has this come to?

there’s a painfully long pause. it’s so silent that you can hear when your tears drop to the tiled flooring. your head hurt, knowingly a migraine coming on.

you felt empty from what you had spilled; slight regret now that the relationship between the two of you would never likely continue the same way it had. yunjin was everything you could ever wish to be. the way she was constantly praised, while you were berated. she was gorgeous, with or without makeup. this was reinforced by all the netizens, fans, talk show hosts, everyone. she could sing, write, perform songs all in solitude without a grain of self-doubt. when you were with her, at least the good parts, you felt like you were in heaven. all burdens and stress evaporated when she was on top of you, lips connected.

yunjin breaks the silence.

“i fucking gave up everything.” she says quietly, “i left school early, left for korea, got ridiculously humbled, went back home, almost finished college, and left home, again. i trained longer than i wish i ever could have. i know it’s not much different to you, i mean, we both lost all people close to us, friends and family when we moved here, so i need you to understand,”

you look up from the ground, she has tearing pouring from her eyes.

“after all that, i’m the best i’ve ever been, and could be. i cant lose everything i’ve sacrificed for whatever this is. i don’t want to throw away everything i’ve been through, you’ve been through, we’ve been through, for something as stupid as a dating scandal,”

“and it’s so hard, because if the members find out, then the staff do, the company will, and despite the circumstances i still can’t stand it when someone is dangerously close to the girl i-” she cuts herself off with a hard swallow, loud enough to be heard, “i’m scared i’m falling in love with you.”

you cry harder and walk towards her, holding her hand ; she falls to your touch, shoving her face into your chest. you sob while placing a hand on her back, rubbing it.

“why didn’t you ever say anything?” you manage to say.

“because i thought i should keep my distance, it would loosen the possibility of anyone finding out; if i kept cold, that way, you wouldn’t want to stay too close to me.” she mumbles, her voice is muffled by her face being submerged in your chest.

you pull yunjin off from you and grip her strongly on her shoulders. she sniffles and mumbles a ‘sorry’ after spotting the big, dark wet patch she had made on your top.

“i want to love you, huh yunjin. we’ll work it out together.” you say.

you lift her chin up with a finger and press a hard, long kiss to her lips. you both smile into the kiss.

when you walk out the door together, 4 girls stand outside with jaws dropped.

well fuck.

____________________________________________

an: long awaited part 2!! i’ve incorporated another persons request of yunjin being jealous. this will be the last part. i think i liked the first one better but whatever, this one is a bit more angsty….sorry 😟

#huh yunjin x reader #yunjin x reader #le sserafim x reader #lesserafim x reader #le sserafim imagines #enemies to lovers

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teddie-bear420 · 23 days

Text

Swap Au!! I call it “cold hazbin hotel”

Emily moonstone wants to redeem sinners and get to heaven with the help of her butler lute!

Lots of doodles and ramblings under the cut,

if you have any input or jokes or questions send them to me!!

So this swap starts at the very beginning! Lucifer is a big goodie two shoes who doesn’t express his real feelings and is kinda just heavens doormat. Sera on the other hand is driven by fairness and when she sees Adam mistreating Lilith she intervenes. This gets her sent down to hell with Lilith and they start ruling hell with all the sinners. At some point both Lilith and sera stop caring about the state of hell and the sinners establish the overlords that rule territory’s and all that. Around the time that Emily is born sinners like alastor and husk are well established overlords.

Back in heaven, corruption spreads to leadership and Lucifer (as head archangel) kinda just lets it happen. He still runs the show but he doesn’t stand up for what he believes in anymore. Very weak man, thin wrists… dainty even. Adam is still the general of the Exorcist army and nobody holds any one accountable in heaven and the requirements to get into heaven are raised to in unachievable amount!

Sera and Emily are very close, they talk almost everyday, when Emily starts to grow into an adult sera kinda panics and strains the relationship (Emily’s got mommy issues). Emily’s time spent in sin city leads her to starting the hotel with the Dino chick to hinder the overpopulation in hell (jk she just really wants to see heaven)

So Emily is the heir to a stolen kingdom

Lucifer still has Charlie in heaven and she fills Emily’s role of keeping everyone happy. In this swap he shelters Charlie for any hardships or even having her work for anything, so Charlie is a nepotism baby (in the normal show Charlie went no contact with her dad and built the hotel ground up) her job is to keep everyone joyful!

Charlie is ignorant to the horrors

Vaggie and lute are a little harder to explain cuz I still have no real idea how to approach making lute a sinner cuz uhh.. she already is one. I do know I wanna keep her antennae bangs…Pink to blue….Bug motif…Transition allegory?? You decide

Lute will probably have butler butch vibes, she’s very servant like

But! I see vaggie getting to second in command and becoming a beast. The most ruthless demon slayer ever man, she fights the biggest demons she can find just for the fun of it. She still bulks up (you can take buff vaggie from my cold dead hands)!! She is assigned to protect the arch angel Charlie from quote…

“naughty individuals” -Lucifer (he means Adam)

Their dynamic is very silly, vaggie has to keep Charlie safe from things like assassins, perverts, technology and a goose. We all know that lute struck vaggie down cuz she was gay right? Well that still happens, but vaggie wins the fight (also being egged on by Adam) and ever since she’s looked for a fight so bad she ends up joining lute (warriors bond and all that)

EMILY IS A LAWYER HAHAHAHAHHA AND A BUTCH

Basically she wants to change the heaven standard the lawful way (sera was a court judge after all) think musicals like legally blond, that one Hamilton song, and the death note musical.

She and Charlie get along well enough, it does gag Emily when she finds out that Charlie doesn’t know what a minimum wage job is.

Ok so the main cast gets swapped with the over lords as you can see, the overlords I chose now look much younger, tho carmilla and Rosie are my milfs forever. Velvet is now an intern trying to get out of hell (she hates the heat) vox is now kinda just an obsessive fan boy, carmilla wants to go to heaven to see her daughters again. That Dino chick is the first guest, Emily wants to tame her inner fire (girl style)

Emily has always wanted to see the garden of Eden, so when she comes up with a way to redeem sinners she hopes to visit heaven with them! I’m gonna doodle around with her demon bits,

THATS IT FOR NOW

Will maybe post more

#teddz stuff #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lute #charlie morningstar #vaggie #hazbin hotel emily #charlie x vaggie #lute x emily #swap au #cold hazbin hotel

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split-spectrum · 1 month

Text

Concessions

Pairings: Obi Wan/FemReader

Warnings/Tags: (more to come) sexually explicit content, explicit language, edging, orgasm denial (like a lot of it - that's the whole fic)

Chapter Length: 3K

Description: Obi Wan chooses to undertake a trial that prevents him from sex for one year, and asks you to serve as his witness. As his close friend, you don't mind helping him.

The rules of the trial are very clear. You make it your personal mission to find the exceptions.

☆☆☆

"They call it the Nikkama."

"A full cycle?"

He pauses, taking in your incredulous tone. "Yes. A full Coruscant cycle."

"And you're asking me to... what, participate?"

He shakes his head. "Of course not. This is simply a... personal matter for me."

You raise a brow even higher than it already was, not saying anything in response. He seems to be on the edge of an explanation, but never quite getting there. Your silence invites him to continue.

"By the end of a standard year, it is my goal to come away with a new understanding of the Force, and of myself."

"That's very... respectable," you manage. "So, if you need someone as the keeper of this... trial, why not ask a master? Why me?"

His eyes search your face. He's trying to determine if you're toying with him. The truth is, you have an idea of why he wouldn't approach Yoda about this, but you want to hear him say it.

"I had... rather thought it would be obvious."

So you had guessed correctly. But he won't admit it.

You smirk; an acquiescence. You won't make him dance around the details any longer. You are friends, after all. Friends who happen to know one another more intimately than most friends do - the real reason he's come to you with this request.

"Alright. Tell me the rules."

No sex. That's the essence of it. 'Seeking bliss through denial', as the ancient Jedi texts stated it. To complete the trial, one must deny themselves the pleasures of the flesh for the time it takes the Jedi temple to finish one full cycle.

The rules are quite simple: The Jedi must make the trial known to one witness - the keeper. The Jedi can not bring themselves to completion through sex or by any other means. There are allowances, of course. Orgasms beyond the Jedi's control are permitted. This way, one cannot fail the trial while sleeping. Finally, the Jedi must not speak of the trial with anyone aside from the keeper. Like many other trials, it was a battle meant to be fought internally.

If he failed, Obi Wan had explained to you that he could not simply begin again. One was not allowed to attempt the Nikkama for ten more cycles. It was not meant to be taken lightly. Much like everything Obi Wan has ever done, but especially like the things he's been doing lately.

Since becoming master of the Chosen One, it seems like all he's done is push himself, as if trying to prove he's worthy of the position. Having known him since padawanhood, his capability has always been clear to you. But with his new responsibilities, he seems to be seeking new and creative ways to strain himself. You know nothing you say will be enough to slow him down, so most of the time, you can only offer your begrudging support.

Three months in to this latest self-imposed trial, you can already tell the strain is starting to wear on him.

"Anakin, I've told you before," his voice carries over the crowd of padawans on the landing platform as you walk past. "The way we present ourselves is a choice."

"Yes, master," mumbles the boy in front of him, his eyes clearly more focused on the ship he's about to board than his master's words.

"...and today you've chosen to present yourself to professor Huyang with a wrinkled robe because you did not hang it properly as I asked, did you?"

"Sorry, master." Anakin's words are contrite, but the way he shrugs Obi Wan's arm off his shoulder says this will not be the last conversation they have about it.

Obi Wan looks around, clearly asking the Force for patience. He squeezes a blink just a little longer than normal, gathering himself, and when he opens his eyes, he catches you watching the display. You press your upper lip down into a poorly-hidden grin and keep walking, using the mug of caf you'd retrieved from the refectory in the temple's main hall to hide your smile.

Once Anakin is sent on his way with the other padawans, Obi Wan strides down the hall to match your pace.

"I saw that," he grouses. He's putting on a half-joking tone, but you can tell there's a current of real irritation running beneath. "You won't find it quite so entertaining when you have a padawan of your own."

You let your grin loose. "That's the beauty of volunteering for the most distant and dangerous missions. They can't keep me at the temple long enough to assign me one."

It's an exaggeration you're putting on for him, but it's partially true - you do tend to volunteer for the most exciting assignments you can find. That's where you and Obi Wan differ the most. Part of you craves adventure in a way that's almost unbecoming of a Jedi. Obi Wan starkly contrasts your eagerness, content with whatever duties he's given. He always has the serene air of a proper Jedi knight about him. And you truly enjoy pushing his buttons until his calm demeanor breaks.

"You look like you could use one of these," you tell him, changing the subject by pointing to the mug in your hand.

He looks down at your hand, then glances dejectedly out of one of the windows as you pass it. "Oh, I could use something much stronger than that. If only I had the time. I promised Master Sinube I would help him question some suspects for an investigation this afternoon."

You click your tongue against your teeth. "Poor thing."

"Yes, no rest for the wicked, it seems."

"More like 'no rest for the stubborn'."

He gives you a look.

"No rest for the decidedly overbooked," you go on, pushing those lovely buttons of his.

He sighs, shaking his head in annoyed bemusement and not rising to your bait.

You turn to face him before your path peels away, dropping your antagonizing grin. "If you're too busy this afternoon, what about this evening? We could meet up in my quarters for 'something stronger' if you'd like. I have a bottle of Alderaanian red that's been gathering dust."

"Hm. Dusty wine; how very tempting," he sniffs, crossing his arms at you.

You roll your eyes, but he doesn't give you a chance to retort.

"It's a kind offer, but-"

"But, Anakin is gone for the week and you'd rather be alone in your quarters, falling asleep early?"

"Well, yes, in fact, I would."

You shrug. "Do as you please, then. My charitable offer stands, if you decide you'd rather enjoy yourself than become a hermit at the ripe age of twenty-seven."

You turn down an adjacent hallway, leaving his mood behind you without another thought.

Later that night - very much later, in fact - you had almost forgotten about your offer when a knock at the door to your private quarters reminds you.

"Obi Wan."

You won't spoil the surprise by gloating, though you sorely want to. You just smile instead, glad to see him despite his dour expression.

His lifts his eyes tiredly. "Might I request that you hold off on any clever commentary until I have my promised drink?"

Your grin broadens as you step to the side, inviting him in. "You might request it, but my cleverness won't be silenced."

Passing you, he manages to flick up an eyebrow despite his otherwise muted demeanor. "Oh, dear. If I had known you'd started without me, I'd have-"

"You'd have come sooner?" you finish for him, sweeping up the bottle on your counter and topping off your glass.

He drapes himself over your couch, sinking into the cushions as he spreads an arm over the side.

"I may not have come at all. I would have gone to my quarters and gotten some well-deserved-" You hand him a filled glass. "Thank you. Some well-deserved rest."

He finishes his statement with a long sip, then swirls the glass and closes his eyes, pinching his brow with his other hand.

You just roll your eyes, nudging his boots to the side and sinking into the couch next to him. "Master Sinube really putting you through your paces, then?"

He sighs through his nose. "Master Sinube is a wonderful teacher in the art of... patience."

Your lip quirks upward. His patience has never been tested before by the kindly old Cosian. And it's rather odd for Obi Wan to admit it. You consider pointing it out, but seeing him so worn out by the experience dampens your desire to wind him up. You turn on the holovid screen instead.

"After a few more glasses of this, trust me, you'll feel better."

When you awaken, you feel something soft and warm beneath your face. It's the cloth of Obi Wan's tunic.

Your head is buzzing faintly as you press your nose into the fabric, breathing him in. You only marginally care that what you're doing is inappropriate. It's been a long time since you've been this close, and you can blame the drinks if you really must.

You swallow, blinking slowly as you register that the room is filled with the sound of some holodrama you've never watched before. The music is swelling, and you reach over Obi Wan's chest to press the volume button on the remote. His head turns, following your movement though he's still half-asleep.

You feel his breathing pattern change below your cheek, and you look up at him. His long eyelashes part slowly. His body shifts so that he's facing you, though he removes the arm that had fallen to your shoulder. He puts a hand on the back of the couch.

And he looks at you.

The moment where he should have moved away - where one of you should have - comes and goes.

You lift your face, staring at his lips. You know you're caught in his gaze. He's watching you, not saying a word.

The idea of leaning up to press your lips onto his is so far removed from your mind that it's basically an impossibility. You aren't padawans stealing moments in the temple anymore. Your heart doesn't pound with the fear that you'll give into your baser instincts. You're fully aware of what you're enjoying - the look in his eyes; the space between your mouths. Holding your faces so close that it's almost another kind of kiss.

Then you shift your hips, just slightly, and you feel it. You feel the way his clothes pull tight at his center. Your leg brushes the taught line of fabric just below his stomach, running up his thigh.

Considering his circumstances, it's a normal reaction. You tell yourself this as you feel a blush spreading over your face and down your neck. It's a physical response to repressing his body's urges. You try not to take it personally. You won't mention it.

You blink, lowering your gaze from his and starting to extricate yourself from his side. He swallows, pulling away from you.

"I'm sorry-" His voice is throaty and a bit slurred. "I-"

The inner side of your hip brushes against him as you turn to get up, and a soft, almost dejected moan pours out of him. He snaps his mouth shut. You freeze, looking up at him.

That noise will not be so easy to avoid taking personally.

Suddenly he's sitting up. "Terribly sorry, I- I don't know what came- came over- "

You force a smile, though your heart is racing, and you pat his shoulder. "Don't worry about it. Only nine more months to go, right?"

A slight look of relief passes over his wide eyes. "Yes," he agrees, clearly grateful you've decided to blame the trial and not him. "Yes. Quite right. My apologies."

When Obi Wan finishes his many further apologies and excuses himself, leaving you alone in your quarters, you are grateful for one thing: As you lie back in your bed, imagining the way his hips had twitched at the slightest brush, you thank the stars that the Nikkama doesn't go both ways.

You'd had your fun.

That's what you keep reminding yourself. When you have to keep your eyes from lingering a little too long during a shared smile. When your heart kicks up a little faster anytime you see that he's returned safely from some far-off world. When you kiss someone else and it doesn't feel the same.

The Jedi are not forbidden from physical pleasures. There's no reason not indulge in sex, so long as attachment isn't involved. But when you'd both realized as padawans that kissing and touching was swiftly turning into longing and wondering, you'd agreed it was for the best not to continue.

That conversation was so long ago, and the boy who'd made that promise was so far removed from the man who was currently pinning you down on the training room floor.

"Yield," he pants, teeth glistening in the fading sunlight. His breath is hot, and you're swallowing it with gasps of your own.

You flex your thighs, using the Force to lift both of you off of the ground. "Not until you've beaten me."

Huffing an exasperated laugh, he looks over your head in disbelief. Then he tightens his grip on the hand that holds your lightsaber and feels where your thumb is located. He stills. You're holding the empty hilt against his side, and your thumb is just below the pressure sensor. You grin, open-mouthed, sweaty, and undefeated.

"In a non-lethal match, I have indeed beaten you."

You're just about to reply when he crushes your wrist in his palm, wrenching it upward and holding both of your arms harmlessly above your head. You yelp in surprise and no small amount of pain as he presses the weight of his body onto you, holding himself up by pinning you down.

"But just for good measure - there," he says, digging his knees onto either side of your hips to hold you still. "Now yield."

You struggle against him, but it's like trying to break out of a durasteel cage. Then you catch sight of a dewy patch of golden skin and make a move that neither of you are expecting.

Your teeth sink into his neck before you can catch the impulse, and the muscles there vibrate when he gasps in shock. He releases your hands, but catches them again quickly. His face is suddenly flushed when he pulls away.

"There can be some honor in defeat, you know," he scowls down at you.

You smirk, pleased at getting a rise out of him. "A Jedi doesn't accept defeat with any reasonable chance at victory."

You lift your hips again, this time sending a concentrated pulse through the Force to try and wriggle out from under him. He holds you steady and you rock to one side, attempting to flip him off and reverse your positions, but to no avail. You take a few deep breaths, then try rolling your hips one last time.

"Stop that."

His tone snaps you out of your concentration. You look up to see him glaring down at you, looking unsteady for the first time in your match. You hesitate, then decide to take the opportunity he's giving and make the same move again. You grind your body against him and watch as his eyes widen. He releases your wrists and rolls off of you, standing up.

"I yield."

His turns his back on you, stalking over to where you've left your water canteens, and takes a long drink.

You lie there a moment in stunned silence, then shake it off and stand up, following him. "Are you... okay? What was that?"

"It's nothing," he snips back immediately.

Then you see his shoulders soften and he turns to face you. "Forgive me. I'm not... feeling very well."

He gives you a forced smile, then reaches to pick up his robe from the floor. "Perhaps we could continue this later?"

You shrug, at a loss. "Sure."

"Very well," he answers, heading for the doorway. "Thank you."

You frown, his sudden formality making you uneasy. "Obi Wan... did I do something wrong?"

"No," he says, shaking his head. "I just need to get some rest."

You take a beat before pressing him again. "I'm sorry about the bite."

He sighs. "There's no need to apologize. The fault is mine. Perhaps... it would just be best if we hold off any sparring sessions for the time being."

"Oh?" you ask quietly. "For how long?"

"Just... just for now."

You furrow your brow. Then it clicks. "Until the end of the Nikkama?"

He looks caught-out, sending his gaze past you.

Of course. It's been six months, now. He hasn't mentioned it, but you might have known by his mood.

Now you're the one struggling to make eye contact. You pick up your own canteen, drinking, then wiping your mouth.

"Is it that bad?" you finally ask.

He lets out a soft laugh. "Well, it's not meant to be easy."

There's a long, unbroken silence as you wonder how to approach this. Or whether to approach it, at all.

"Do you... want to talk about it?"

He shakes his head. "It's simply a matter of discipline. There isn't much to talk about."

"Well," you tell him slowly, carefully. "I've read the texts. And I want you to know that if you need... help, getting through to the end, I'm here for you."

His face drops. "What does that mean?"

You take a step closer, your heart pounding as you try to put the words together. "The trial has rules against you seeking pleasure. But, everyone has needs. And if you aren't seeking it... if it- it just happens..."

He looks down at the space between your bodies, and it's like you can see every thought running through his head. He doesn't answer for a very long time.

"Anything that were to happen," he says in a low tone, nearly a whisper. "Would need to be without my request."

Your breath is shortening with every word he says. "You asked me to help you with this," you reply. "And we are friends, are we not?"

He nods. "Of course."

"Then if you need it, let me help you."

Your hand tingles as you reach out to touch his side. He gently takes your hand and lowers it, almost grazing between his legs, and holds you there just a moment too long.

Your fingers lift from his hand to unclasp his belt, but he pulls you back.

"No," he says, swallowing and letting out a few slightly labored breaths. "No, I wouldn't- No."

You wait for an explanation, but he doesn't finish his thought.

"Well, as long as you know the offer stands," you tell him, straightening up. "If you change your mind..."

"I won't," he cuts you off. "There is no- no need."

Smiling for his benefit, you nod. "Of course. My mistake."

You can feel his gaze follow you as you bend over to pick up your own robe and brush past him out the door.

In any other situation, Obi Wan would hold his own in a debate. He's quite well known for having opinions that aren't easily swayed.

In this matter, against your better judgment, you find yourself wondering if you might be the exception.

A/N: I'm planning for this to be a short multi-chapter, maybe 3-5. Completely self-induglent. I want this man to be edged within an inch of his life. I want him whimpering, your honor.

On a side note, forgive me for this interruption in posting Water and Rock! It's been challenging because I've needed to basically write the full ending before I can be sure the plot/pacing is right for this chapter. It will be up soon, promise! In the meantime I've been using this side fic as a bit of a creative outlet lol.

As always, if you'd like to be tagged for this fic, feel free to comment or message me. :)

#obi wan x reader #star wars #obi wan kenobi #star wars fanfiction #fanfic #obiwan #obi wan × you

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bbygirl-aemond · 1 year

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why was alicent so upset that rhaenyra lied about her virginity?

i know that i love rhaenyra's gaslighting gatekeeping girlbossing era, but i wanted to touch on a time where she gaslit a little too hard and i think irreparably fractured her relationship with alicent.

i am, of course, talking about the brothel/sex rumors and how rhaenyra responded to them in private. alicent comes to her and asks about it, admittedly fairly judgmentally, but i think there's still an element of concern on rhaenyra's behalf, a "why aren't you protecting your reputation? don't you know how precarious your position is?"

alicent's reaction is for sure a result of her conservative upbringing and internalized misogyny. i just think it's also at least in part an acknowledgement of the political reality that rhaenyra is as of that moment ignorant to: that because she is a woman, rhaenyra is going to be held to unfair standards as viserys's heir and that she needs to be smarter or she's going to get hurt. that her claim to the throne is already in jeopardy because of the patriarchy and that she really cannot afford to weaken it further. i've spoken before about how i think viserys raised rhaenyra to be very sheltered and privileged, while alicent as a woman with a far less powerful father was always forced to confront the hard truths of politics in westeros. she never had the privilege of rhaenyra's false sense of safety.

anyways, alicent's motivations aside, what does rhaenyra do? she swears on her dead mother's grave, and she lies.

now, i don't blame rhaenyra for not trusting alicent enough to tell her the truth. she's likely still reeling from her best friend marrying her dad. i see alicent as very much a victim of viserys, but rhaenyra is still hurt and it's understandable that she'd feel tricked, even if it's not alicent's fault. their friendship isn't what it once was by far. and obviously the potential consequences if the rumor was confirmed would be catastrophic, so it would honestly have been a bad move to tell alicent the truth.

but bringing aemma into things was unnecessary, and it was a mistake. we see alicent and rhaenyra bond over their dead mothers earlier in the show. alicent opens up to rhaenyra about her grief in the wake of her own mother's death to try to comfort her after aemma dies. it's a very vulnerable moment for alicent and she shares this part of herself selflessly, for rhaenyra's sake.

rhaenyra brought up aemma for a reason. she knew alicent had lost her own mother. she remembered what alicent had told her and how seriously she took her own mother's death. she knew that if she made it about her dead mother, alicent would respect it and would believe her.

and alicent does, enough to stand up to her father for rhaenyra during a time when she really has never gone against otto, ever. she feels helpless to disobey him when he orders her to viserys's rooms, but she musters up that strength to defend rhaenyra to his face, and i think that's notable.

this is why alicent isn't just upset but devastated when criston tells her the truth. it's not fully because rhaenyra isn't a virgin or whatever, though for the aforementioned political and ideological reasons i acknowledge that's a part of it. but i think her very visible, emotional reaction is because alicent realizes, in that moment, that rhaenyra has manipulated her grief for her dead mother. this marks the first time alicent realizes she is truly alone.

we see throughout the show that alicent has been manipulated by everyone around her that she should trust. her father, who should love her, pimps her out so he can fulfill his own ambitions. viserys, who should be a pseudo-father to her since he watched her grow up, grooms and assaults her. alicent never thought rhaenyra would be like them. but in that moment, she is.

by swearing on her mother's grave, rhaenyra proves herself to be just another person who took alicent's honesty and kindness and used it to manipulate her for her own ends. again, not saying that rhaenyra could or should have admitted the truth here. but did she really have to bring aemma into it?

no.

and it costs her alicent's trust, which as we all know has massive ripple effects that will cost her far, FAR more than just a friendship.

#hotd #house of the dragon #rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenyra #alicent hightower #alicent #otto hightower #otto #viserys targaryen #viserys #viserys i targaryen #viserys i #criston cole #criston #ser criston cole #ser criston #hotd meta #meta

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yjw1a1 · 2 months

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too early too late | psh

PAIRING. Park Sunghoon x female reader. WORD COUNT. 808 words GENRE. When two people were perfect for each other, but the timing wasn't right. She fell first, but he fell harder. angst w/ a bit of Jungwon fluff :) DISCLAIMER. I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING EXCEPT FOR THE WORK I WROTE, SO PLAGIARISM IS NOT ALLOWED HERE. all the credits to the owners of the photos. Please be kind because this is my first work I've posted here. WARNINGS. angst, sunghoon doesn't get the girl.

DATE RELEASED . 02-11-2024

THE AROMA OF FRESHLY BREWED COFFEE, infused with hints of cinnamon and nutmeg, wafted through the cozy late-fall air. The soft glow of warm, amber lights glowed softly through the window of the cafe as leaves tumbled down the trees.

“One caramel macchiato,” the barista called out. Two hands reached for the drink at once only for them to clash.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, retracting your hand, but once you saw who’s hand bumped yours, you felt a wave of nostalgia rush through you. Years had passed since you last seen him, yet you knew no matter the length of time or the distance apart, you would always recognize him. How could you not, when his face graces every magazine cover, dominates headlines on the news, and consistently shatters records while setting new standards in the world of marketing and business?

His gaze held a hint of surprise as he met your eyes. Your hair had grown longer since the last time he saw you, and you had grown into your features, only making you more beautiful from the last time he had seen you.

"You can take it, Y/N," he murmured softly, urging you to accept the drink. The barista raised a eyebrow. "We have another caramel macchiato on it’s way," the barista informed.

You accepted the cup from the barista and placed it in front of Sunghoon. "I'll wait," you replied calmly. Sunghoon chuckled softly.

"After all this time, you're still the same," he remarked with a small smile, settling into the seat beside you. "Always assertive, never leaving the other person with a choice," he observed as you toyed with your fingers, a faint smile playing on your lips.

“Some things just never change,” you admitted. The barista handed you the newly brewed caramel macchiato. You quickly thanked them and turned your attention back to Sunghoon.

“I see you’re back in Korea. Are you visiting? It’s been a while since you’ve left,”

"I'm just here to check a few things at headquarters with my father," Sunghoon remarked, taking a sip of his drink as you nodded. "But it'll be a brief visit."

Sunghoon had left almost exactly five years ago, leaving oversee to run the international branch of his father's company. But how did you come to know Park Sunghoon? He was two years your senior, and your brother's closest friend. Their friendship had blossomed effortlessly when Sunghoon arrived at the school. From the moment your eyes met his, you were enamored. He was everything to you. He was your youth. Your childhood. Your first love. It was during those early high school days that you fell deeply for him, your heart captivated at first sight.

However, it seemed Sunghoon remained oblivious to the depths of your affection, or perhaps he simply hadn't realized his own feelings for you until it was too late, until you were no longer within his reach.

"Hi, love," a voice suddenly broke the silence. "Sorry I'm late. Boss kept me tied up," He apologized sheepishly. You let out a soft giggle.

"Jungwon," your eyes sparkled glimmered with happiness, as Jungwon tenderly kissed your temple. For a fleeting moment, a hint of longing flashed in Sunghoon's eyes. “Here’s your caramel macchiato,” you smiled up at him.

"Thank you, love," Jungwon beamed, as Sunghoon's gaze followed as you intertwined your fingers, his heart cracking at the sight of the ring adorning your finger.

"Hyung," Jungwon grinned as he enveloped Sunghoon in a warm hug. "It's been too long." Sunghoon could only muster a smile and nod in response. Jungwon redirected his attention to you, his eyes brimming with love and adoration, causing a pang of discomfort in Sunghoon's stomach. "You ready to go, love?" he asked, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear as you nodded in affirmation.

"It was nice bumping into you again," you smiled gently. "I’ll have to brag to Jaeyun that I got to see you before he did," you teased lightly, your eyes brightened as you reached for his hand cheerfully. "Next time, let us know you’re back. Jungwon and I would love to treat you to dinner," you added, extending the invitation with warmth. Sunghoon managed to force a small smile, but as he watched you and Jungwon walk away, a heaviness settled in his chest, and his smile fell.

Sunghoon whispered softly to himself, as a bittersweet smile touched his lips. "As long as you’re happy, then that’s all that matters,” he sighed looking down at his caramel macchiato.

For you, you believed that falling for Sunghoon made you a better woman at the end, believing he wasn't the right man for you, but the bitter unspoken truth was, your story with Sunghoon was unfortunate and mistimed— you had fallen for him too early, and he had realized his love for you too late.

NOTE: again this is my first work ever hereee so please don't hate! I'm still tryna figure out how to use tumblr, and I'm not sure when I'll have another update or story coming out because this week I have three exams (love midterms-not really-) and even though I should've been studying I wrote this LOL! But i hope you enjoyed and thank you for reading!!

#sunghoon x reader #park sunghoon #enhypen #enhypen x reader #sunghoon angst #sunghoon oneshots #enhypen oneshot #sunghoon #ruby.·:*¨ ¨*:·..·:*¨ ¨*:·.writes

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gotham-ruaidh · 4 months

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Little Bit Better Than I Used To Be

Catch up: Chapter 1 (Starry Eyes) || Chapter 2 (Save Our Souls) || Chapter 3 (Dancing On Glass)|| Chapter 4 (Merry-Go-Round)|| Backstage (1) || Backstage (2) || Chapter 5 (Danger)|| Backstage (3) || Chapter 6A (Love Walked In) || Chapter 6B (Without You) || Backstage (4) || Chapter 7 (Stick To Your Guns) || Chapter 8 (Time For Change) || Backstage (5) || Chapter 9 (Take Me To The Top) || Backstage (6) || Chapter 10 (Home Sweet Home) || Backstage (7) || Chapter 11a (Nightrain) || Chapter 11b (Nothing Else Matters) || Chapter 12a (Handle With Care) || Chapter 12b (I’m So Tired of Being Lonely) || Chapter 13a (Angel) || Chapter 13b (She’s My Addiction) || Chapter 13c (Patience) ||| Also posted at AO3

Chapter 14A: Where Do We Go Now?

Soundtrack: “Sweet Child O' Mine,” Guns N' Roses, 1987 [click here to listen]

She's got eyes of the bluest skies As if they thought of rain I'd hate to look into those eyes and see an ounce of pain Her hair reminds me of a warm safe place Where as a child I'd hide And pray for the thunder and the rain to quietly pass me by...

Philadelphia || June 1988

Claire pushed her chair back a bit from the desk. Raised her arms. Stretched. Breathed deeply.

Reading for the eighth time the words she’d finally tapped out on the Selectric this morning, after days of rolling them around in her head.

Chief Physician

Boston Medical Center

To Whom It May Concern,

As you may be aware, I am a trauma surgeon at BMC. Twelve months ago I was placed on administrative leave by the BMC, and my medical license was suspended, pending the resolution of BMC’s internal investigation into my conduct. The investigation started by looking into a near-fatal error I committed during a surgery, and then quickly discovered that I had not only been forging prescriptions and stealing painkillers for quite some time, but also developed a severe addition to those painkillers.

As you may also be aware, I did not contest the actions taken by BMC. Subsequently I enrolled in an intensive drug rehabilitation program in North Carolina. I am happy to share that I am almost twelve months clean, having completed the program last December and successfully maintained my sobriety since then.

I have previously communicated to the Board, on several occasions, my sincere regret for what I did and my remorse for the incredible lapse of professional judgment and ethical standards I demonstrated. I repeat those regrets to you now.

Which is, in part, why I am writing you today. I wish to understand what else is required of me to return to work, in any capacity, at BMC.

Making amends for wrongs was something that Claire and Geillis had talked about a lot, during her time at The Ridge. Yes, doing that was a formal part of any 12 Step program.

But it was more than just saying sorry – it required the addict to recognize the wrongs.

To own them. To understand why they had happened, and the impact they had had on others.

Because nothing sounded more inadequate in the English language than the two words, I’m sorry.

But words matter. And this attitude shift was a crucial step on any addict’s road to recovery.

Making amends was something that Claire and Jamie had talked a lot about, too. She had seen him make amends many times, in their short time together – and quite often during their last few weeks on the road, as they traveled city to city for Print’s acoustic tour and Jamie came into contact with many people who had last seen him drunk/rude/high/demanding/hung over/acting like a total asshole during the last (disastrous) tour in ’86.

He made it a point to really talk to each person, to apologize for specific things he remembered doing. No matter if it was the venue manager, or the catering guy, or the lighting guy, or the security guard. I was a dick when I was drunk. I said terrible things. I hurt you. I’m sorry.

Two weeks ago in Chicago, he couldn’t sleep after a fucking incredible show at the old Chicago Theater. The adrenaline buzz after the show so much better than any pills or bourbon or groupie could have given him. He had tossed and turned for hours, until finally, quietly slipping out of their bed and perching in the easy chair in their suite at the Palmer House, watching Claire shift restlessly under the covers without him.

But of course, she knew when something was wrong. She woke, and turned to face him, easing up on one elbow. Watching him back. Giving him space.

When he finally spoke, it was just above a raspy whisper.

“How can you be here, Claire, when all you do is hear me talk about how awful I was to so many people?”

Her heart did break a little bit. “Because I never knew that version of you, Jamie. What I care about is who you are now.”

He sighed, breath ragged. “This shit is so fucking hard.”

“I know, baby.” Somehow she was standing beside him, and blindly he buried his face into the warm skin of her belly. She threaded her fingers in his hair, held him close as his pulse spiked.

“Deep breaths, Jamie. Focus on me. I’m here.”

He had had several panic attacks during the tour. Which could be chalked up to anything – the stress of changing hotels every day, the crush of fans and press that clustered around their tour bus when they arrived in a new city, the women who pulled down their tops in the front row at every concert, the Jack Daniels bottles and little baggies of powder left in his dressing room before the show in Wilkes-Barre.

But instead of smashing to pieces all alone, she sheltered him. He knew when to ask for help. And always found her just in time to crash against her, shaking and crying in bathroom stalls and green rooms and even once on the deserted tour bus. And each time she was so grateful for the psych rotation she’d done in med school that prepared her to help him.

But that didn’t make it any easier.

“Breathe in, Jamie. Think about how much I love you.”

He drew in a deep, sobbing breath.

“That’s right. Now exhale. I’m never going to leave you.”

He exhaled, shoulders shuddering.

“And inhale, Jamie. We can get hamburgers for breakfast again, if you want.”

He inhaled, and she felt a faint smile against her belly.

“That’s right. And out. Think about how amazing our wedding night will be.”

He exhaled. Gently bit the soft, soft skin above her bellybutton. She shivered, and smiled.

“Good. Center on me. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

She counted along with him – twenty four more deep breaths. Caressing his forehead, and kissing his hair, and loving him and loving him and loving him.

Finally when he had calmed down, she crawled back into bed, and he held her so close against him. Kissing her forehead. Whispering endless words of love.

“If I ever fuck up with you, Claire, know I’ll always own it.”

She kissed his eyebrows. “The same for me, Jamie. I’d rather be mad at you than not have you.”

He had said the same words to her this morning. A promise he never tired of repeating. Murmured against her hair when he bent over to kiss her in the bed, body thrumming with energy.

Colum had booked a studio here in Philadelphia for the day, so that the band could lay down recordings of the acoustic tracks they’d played to dozens of sold-out crowds during the tour. With the incredible press from the tour – thanks in no small part to Geordie Ash’s profile in Rolling Stone – and bootlegs in wide circulation, it was time. And for once, the band agreed with the label.

She would join him later, of course. But today she needed the time to herself, to finally write and then mail the letter to Boston.

All because of Jamie.

“You can’t stay in a state of limbo forever, Claire,” he had said one night, meeting her eyes in the bathroom mirror as he gently brushed her shower-wet hair. “And I know we still don’t know where we’ll live when we’re married. But you have the right to know.”

She had sighed, jamming her hands in the deep pockets of the hotel bathrobe. “I don’t want to go back to that life.”

He had set down the hairbrush they shared, slipping his hands into the pockets, pulling her close against him. “I know. But you can’t have that door hanging open, Claire. Whether you open it or close it, you know I support you. But you’re not doing yourself any favors by not knowing.”

She had nodded, and pursed her lips. Smiling just a little as he kissed the shell of her ear.

She blinked, and turned back to the typewriter.

I have been traveling for the past few weeks, and won’t be back to Boston for at least the next month. Although I may not be immediately reachable by mail or telephone, I’m enclosing the contact information for someone who can get any letter or other message to me.

I look forward to hearing from you.

Sincerely,

Dr. Claire Beauchamp

She gently pulled the paper from the typewriter roll. Signed her name. Took a deep breath. Began to address the envelope.

#outlander #outlander fanfic #jamie and claire #little bit better than i used to be

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whiskeynwriting · 1 year

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Hi, I would really like to request Din comforting wife reader near their daughters first birthday when reader still hasn’t lost the baby weight. I get really self conscious about not fitting in my bras and could just imagine Din being so sweet and loving about it and maybe taking her on a shopping spree at their next stop to get some new lingerie that make reader feel pretty and smutty times ensue with some amazing smutty praise 😍

This is just darling. It's PRECIOUS

Reader-Specific Writing: Body After Baby

Din Djarin x Female Reader

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Word Count: 4.6k

Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI) please read these warnings thoroughly, as there may be triggering aspects written here.

Body insecurity, parenting, mentions of pregnancy, breeding kink, lactation kink, body worship, helmetless Din, vaginal fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, established relationship/marriage, reader is a mama, I thiiiiiink that’s it

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A/N: I really, truly adore this. And what's even better is I made it for my best friend. I hope you love it bb <3

◆

Reader-Specific Writing Masterlist

Join My Taglist!

◆

The house wasn’t everything you’d hoped for, but this life was. It was everything and more. And you never expected him to accept this, to understand this way of domesticity. But he did understand it; in fact, he wanted it. Din has yearned for this his entire life.

It wasn’t a conventional marriage, not by your culture’s standards nor his. It was a blend - a perfect mix. Just like your life now. You’re not a warrior like your husband, you preferred a simpler, safer life. And for the time being, that’s exactly what you’ve been given. While you raise your child, hopefully children, your family will live in tranquility. But once they are of age, they’ll begin their training. Commencing Din’s preferred way of living. Until then, you’re to stay here, living on the planet that is Ralltiir.

During your ceremony, Din promised to keep you safe, and settling here helped him fulfill that. The planet was known for its privacy, successfully maintaining its independence from general political battles - just what Din had envisioned for a home. He not only wanted to protect you, but it’s almost as if he wanted to keep you hidden. You were too precious for the outside world. You, and Vercopa. Your little ray of hope.

“Bid kih…” He hums, smoothing a hand gently over her head. She has barely any hair, but the hair she does have is dark like her father’s. (So small)

It was a ritual of his, something that was special to him. The very first night Vercopa was brought home, he laid her tiny body on his chest, wrapping her in a blanket while her little hands felt her father’s warm touch. He just adores doing skin-to-skin with her. And that’s exactly what they’re doing now.

Stepping out of the kitchen, you’re sure to be quiet as you take in the sight. Din shirtless and rocking gently in the chair near your living room, strong arms holding the precious soul you brought into the world. She’s everything to him; Din fell in love the moment he became aware of her small existence in your tummy. And when she came into the world, it was difficult to pry him away from her. But why would you ever want to? You know she’s going to be such a daddy’s girl.

Internally, he sighs, not wanting to wake his daughter. How have you already been here for an entire year? Smiling to himself, he releases a happy hum. He can’t believe her first birthday is almost here.

“You’re going to be bid kotyc.” He whispers, leaning in to softly kiss her head. “Just like I’ll teach you to be.” Doing his best to remain still and quiet, he grins, his heart soaring with true joy and thankfulness. He knows she’ll be an amazing Mandalorian. (So strong)

The sight of Din holding and speaking to your child so sweetly fills your chest with such an incredible feeling. You’ve never known love like this.

While your husband and daughter bond, you wander into the bathroom, getting yourself ready for the night. Once life had calmed, Din easily fell back into his routines. Which meant treating you to a night out once a week. Even when you were busy, he made time for it. He’ll dedicate the rest of his life to making time for you.

What an incredible milestone. For us all, really. Pondering your daughter’s first birthday, you find yourself feeling… unsure. Happy, of course, entirely elated to watch her grow. But selfishly, you cringe at the timeline. You thought this worry would be gone by now.

Sighing, you rummage through your drawers, trying to find a bra that will fit. But it seems like you’ve run out of luck with that.

“It’s been a year.” You grumble to yourself, closing your eyes in an attempt to calm down. “It’s been an entire year and everything still looks the fucking same.”

Your hips have gotten so wide since becoming pregnant and then giving birth to her. And your thighs… they make you frown. They’ve just gotten so big - everything has. And maker, not to mention your chest. When Vercopa was born, breastfeeding her wasn’t as difficult as you’d imagined, but once you stopped, your chest didn’t return to its normal size. It’s not like they sagged, they were just so big. Why?!

Overall, your body just feels… different. You don’t feel like you.

And what definitely doesn’t help is the constant reminder of it all. Every single day, your clothes bring the realization back into your mind, the remembrance of your new body. Your pants barely even fit, so you’ve resorted to dresses lately. And even then, it was difficult for their outline to contain your breasts. Why was this so difficult?

“This is so useless.” The breath you release is high, signaling your oncoming cries. And Din hears. It’s a small noise, but one he picks up on, nonetheless.

Concerned, he glances up, those dark brows furrowing. Your home isn’t big, only a few rooms huddled beneath the roof, so it’s difficult to hide. It’s easy to tell where the noise came from, he knows you’re in the bathroom. So, he stands, carefully moving into the baby’s room. With her still swaddled and snoozing quietly, he places her in the crib, taking one last glance before making his way over to you.

“Cyare?” His voice is soft, approaching the situation cautiously while keeping himself quiet for the baby. (Beloved)

All he hears in response are your small sniffles, a certain weight pressing into his chest. He hates to see you upset, it genuinely disturbs him.

Walking into the bathroom, he moves behind you, leaning down to rest his chin on your shoulder. Wrapping his arms around your waist, he sighs, urging you to do the same. His presence is so calming. The air feels smoother, sturdier.

“What’s wrong?” His voice brings you back to reality, soothing your growing storm of emotions.

Looking up, you can see those dark brown eyes staring at you in the reflection. Your nose stings from your tears as they spill down your cheeks, a lump growing heavy in your throat. And even though you’re only in a pair of panties, Din doesn’t take his eyes off of yours. He’s worried about you, those broad hands finding your naked hips to rub you gently.

As your eyes travel down, his follow, landing on the bra in your hands. “I can’t fit into it.” You explain quietly, sounding so small. You feel defeated. But Din smirks a little, his warm hands sliding up over your belly.

“Ni guuror bic.” He mumbles, the scruffy hair above his lip tickling your ear. You give him a half annoyed chuckle that makes him smile sweetly. (I like it)

Leaning forward, Din reaches for the bra, taking it from your hands and tossing it lightly to the floor.

“Your body isn’t made to fit into clothes.” He says plainly, turning you in his arms. Facing him, you glance up, staring at your tall, brooding warrior. “Clothes are made to fit your body.”

And then, he’s bringing you in, lips kissing the crown of your head. “I don’t want you to be upset about this.”

“But I am!” You exclaim, and Din shushes you.

“She’s sleeping.” Your husband coos, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear.

“I’m so much bigger, Din. And…” Eyeing your discarded bra, you sigh. “Nothing fits.”

He shrugs, eyes dipping down to your naked chest. “Maybe go braless.”

“Ha. Ha.”

“Cyar’ika,” Din sighs, his loving eyes flickering between your own. “Don’t you know how amazing your body is?” (Sweetheart)

This makes you feel bashful, a shy smirk curling on your lips.

“You made a person, a mini human being!” Din declares quietly, making you laugh. “Not everyone can do that. You know that, don’t you?”

His words make you nod, gaze dropping to your still-rounded belly. And he sees this, moving his hands to cover it, stroking you kindly.

“It only makes sense that your body changes. This is a brand new part of life. Like a brand new you.”

“That’s just the thing.” You can barely even meet his gaze. “I don’t feel like… me.”

It takes not even a second for him to respond. “You’re a better you.”

Head snapping up, you question, “Do you really mean that?”

“Of course, I do.” Leaning down, he presses his forehead to your own. A meaningful Mando’a touch. “To say your body is beautiful doesn’t even come close to genuinely describing you.”

“Din,” You reply quietly, voice filling with emotion. For a man so quiet, he really did have a way with words.

“How about this,” Your beloved then offers, “Why don’t we go shopping tonight instead?”

“Instead of dinner?”

“Yeah,” He nods, holding your hands in his. “I’ll buy you whatever you like,” Lifting your hands, he kisses the backs of them. “Whatever you feel comfortable in.”

“Really?!” You perk up quite a bit at this, eager to buy some new things. And seeing this makes his heart leap.

“You’re excited about this, huh?” He asks, leaning in to kiss your cheek. But you turn your head, capturing his lips instead.

Din’s hands find your hips again, settling on the place he just loves to squeeze. “Well…” He sighs against you, “Maybe we can get some new underwear for you, too.”

“I so need that.” You groan, feeling both excited and relieved. But you’re not exactly picking up on his hint.

“Maybe something a little fancier…” Din mumbles, peppering his lips along your jaw.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” That low voice responds, kissing your earlobe. “Like some new lingerie.” Tracing his fingers around the space beneath your chest, he hums. “Something that makes you feel pretty.”

Your husband is not a trusting man. Outside of you, he could count on one hand how many people fell into that loop. And there were even fewer he trusted with your baby. So, Vera tags along, floating in a small pram beside you and your husband. It’s closed, securing her in for the night. It was a miracle, but you were able to transfer her from the crib to the pram without her waking. The craft itself is something Din is proud of. Made entirely of Beskar, he’d been able to create it after receiving payment from his most recent jobs, missions he took before she was born. And when she grows too old for the floating stroller, it will be molded into her armor.

“How many credits do we have to spend?” You ask, knowing that the fortune Din saved during your pregnancy won’t hold up forever.

“Don’t worry about that.” His voice is metallic now, and deep, that heavy helmet shielding him from the rest of the world.

And Din holds true to his word, he really does get you everything you want. He figures if you need a new wardrobe, you might as well go all out. Din was never one for material possessions, but clearly, this is important to you.

“I have an idea.” You offer, Din’s gaze directly on you. “Why don’t you go pick out some sets you like? And I’ll try them on, and pick my favorite.”

And Din loves the idea of that, but he’s hesitant. He glances over at the pram.

“She’ll be with me while you’re gone.” Comes your tender reassurance, hand gentle as you pull his gaze back to you.

After that, he’s quick to grab a handful of sets off the rack. It’s almost like he’d been eyeing them since you walked in. He makes sure to grab a few different sizes, too. He’s not sure what fits you and doesn’t want you to feel pressured to squeeze yourself into one if it's too tight. But honestly, the image of you in a too-tight lingerie set has him internally groaning. He’d love to see your tits spill out of the sides, the delicate fabric clinging to the meat of your hips and thighs and wrapping around your belly. Truthfully though, this isn’t about him. He’ll be happy with whatever you pick.

“You're not gonna show me?” He asks, slightly bewildered when you come out of the stall fully-dressed.

“Do you wanna see here?” Whispering your proposal, you approach him, leaning down to ask, “Or at home?”

“Home.” Instantly, he’s standing, those gloved hips reaching out to hold and squeeze your waist. “Definitely at home.”

And while Din is excited to see you dress up in this, you’re excited to see him dress down. Watching him remove his armor was always a sacred experience, you never tired of it. You’ve been together for years and you’ve never tired of it.

“You’re so handsome,” Looking up, he almost forgets that you’re watching him. “You know that?”

He still has his flight suit on, but he’s taken every piece of armor off. And, as per his ritual, his helmet was always last. Truthfully though, you enjoyed every minute of this routine. From the moment he started on his boots, your attention was his. Even if the situation wasn’t sexual, your body warmed with affection and arousal; watching him undress, watching him place the sacred pieces in their chosen spots, his body slowly being revealed.

“You think so?” He grins, and he never smiled so much before finding you.

As soon as he’s free of his dressings, he’s moving toward you, cupping your beautiful face in his hands before pressing his lips to your own. And then, he’s turning, picking your daughter up from her pram. Without fail, those are the very first things he does when he takes off of his armor.

“Think she’ll go back to sleep?”

“Yeah,” Din nods, swaying her lightly in his arms. “I’ll take care of it. Why don’t you go get dressed?” Grinning, he leans in to kiss your cheek.

“Okay,” Your fingertips pet across his scruffy beard, lips curling into a smile against him.

It’s easy to convince him that you've left to get dressed, but secretly, you wait. There’s a song Din likes to sing to his daughter, one he made himself.

Ner orikih dala (My tiny girl)

Tion’ad cuyir bid kotyc (Who is so very strong)

Ni cuy ijaat at kar'taylir (I am blessed to know)

Gar ganar ratiin cuyir pal'vut (You’ve been mine all along)

Oh, kotyc dala be pal'vut (Oh, fierce girl of mine)

A verd gar kelir cuyir (A warrior you will become)

Bal ni cuy' cyau'kuyc par te tuur (And I’m excited for the day)

Ibac ni liser haa'taylir gar viinir (That I can see you run)

In your heart, you truly feel safe with him. Like you’re meant to be here and so is he. And in Din’s head, he couldn’t be happier; he’s so proud of you and the small child you’ve made, and he’s beyond proud to continue his lineage.

Like clockwork, your daughter falls asleep, always lulled into peacefulness by her father’s voice. And by the time she has, you’re already dressed. The set Din picked out for you is a dark teal shade, and two-pieced. The entire thing is made of see-through lace, with high-waisted bottoms and a top that dips into your cleavage quite nicely.

And when he steps into the room, he instantly pauses, eyes going wide when he sees you. Those deep, warm, puppy-dog eyes scan your body, his hands now softly closing the door.

“Cyare…” He’s moving toward you with out-stretched arms, his hands finding your waist that’s no longer well defined. (Beloved)

“You like it?” You feel bashful. Truthfully, it’s the first time you’ve dressed like this since giving birth.

“It’s perfect.” Wide eyes continue to roam your figure, eyeing the skin he can see beneath the thin layer of lace. “So perfect…”

Abruptly, he falls to his knees, releasing a deep groan as he kisses your belly. His hands are falling to your hips, sliding around to cup your backside. The small gasp that slips out of your throat makes him smile, his fingers digging into your soft flesh.

“Din, baby…” Running your fingers through his hair, you hear him sigh before he’s hauling you into his arms. “Oh,”

“Come here,” He grunts, laying you back on your shared bed.

Immediately, his fingers are finding the hem of your lingerie, pulling the front open and watching your tits spill out from the fabric. He then shoves his face into your chest, rubbing himself into the softness of your breasts. Wiggling his pelvis between your legs, he groans, teeth nipping at the delicate fabric. His body towers above your own, covering you entirely while his hips grind into you with gentle, sensual motions. Those broad hands quickly find your hips, squeezing you so tightly that it stings. And his mouth hasn’t stopped moving over your chest, lips dragging across your skin before sucking his mark onto your chest.

Din’s body is pinning you down, forcing you into the mattress while you wiggle beneath him, your hands sliding through his hair while your hips meet his every motion. Lifting your legs, you plant your soles on the mattress so you can encase him, surround him. With Din, sex felt primal, like he had a dire need and duty to take you, to make love to you in the most carnal way. And seeing you dressed so prettily only made him hotter for you.

“Din!” Gasping, your hands fly to either side of his face as he wraps his lips around your nipple.

“Mm…” Comes that deep, desperate moan, languidly licking over your hardened peak while massaging each breast in his large hands.

“I love your fucking tits.” He mumbles, his soft mouth moving over your flesh. “I love that they’re big, I fucking love it.” His fingers dig into you, cupping you firmly in his palms.

The stubble above his lip and along his cheeks tickles your skin, brushing over you as he moves his lips over the hills and valleys of your chest. He mouths at them, sucking on the sides and biting wherever he can. Before leaning back, he sticks his tongue out, flattening it on your solar plexus and slowly licking one, long stripe up between your breasts.

“Oh…” You sigh out, never tiring of his tongue on your skin.

“Look at your beautiful body…” Your husband sighs, that deep and gruff voice driving you mad. “Look at these hips…”

His hands fall to your thighs, wrapping around the expanse of them and shoving them harshly to the sides. He then lifts them slightly, his mouth diving in to suck on your tender skin.

Seeing him so aroused from the mere image of you is baffling, his mouth and hands already making you writhe and whine.

“I can’t believe you’d ever think I wasn’t attracted to you.” He murmurs, licking the sweet flesh of your thighs. “Do you see yourself?”

“Din, baby…”

“I want as many children as I can have with you,” He groans, licking over the softness of your inner leg. “I always want you to look like this.”

Before you can say anything more, he continues to speak, continues to work himself up. “Do you remember how full they were after she was born? Your gorgeous tits?”

“Mhm,” Nodding, you reach down for him, watching his eyes flutter shut when your fingers rake through his hair.

“They were so swollen… I wish I could still taste them. Oh, cyar’ika,” Lifting himself, he covers you with his body once again, diving down to your neck so he can lick and nuzzle into you. “I loved it, I loved sucking on them…” With his free hand, he palms your breast, tweaking your nipple harsh enough to make you cry out for him. “Tasting them. Your sweet milk,” Glancing down, he murmurs, “I want that again.” (Sweetheart)

The memory of Din sucking on your tender breasts makes you wet for him all over again, not that you weren’t already. It was such an intimate and erotic moment, and it happened quite often. Holding him in your lap while he snuggled into your soft breasts, his hands kneading them as he watched milk spill from the tips. He’d suck on you for however long he wanted, however long you’d let him. And more often than not, you’d wrap your hand around him while he did it, another familiar, white liquid splattering your skin.

“Don’t you want more?”

“Hm?”

“More of my babies, cyar’ika.” He answers instantly, his voice hurried and rough. “Don’t you want to be full of it? Full of my seed? Feeling it take root and grow inside you?” He’s truly working himself up, snarling against your neck while he groans. (Sweetheart)

“Baby, of course I do.” Lifting him to your face, you can practically feel the change in him. His dominance pushing to the surface, his primal desire to have and keep you. “Please, please take this off of me.” He’s only pushed parts of the set to the side, but it still hasn’t left your body. “I need you.”

“Stay quiet.” He suddenly orders, his voice stern as he speaks to you. And the next thing you hear is the tear of the fabric he’d bought you less than an hour ago. “Be quiet while I breed you.”

“Din.” But that’s all you get out before he’s slapping his palm over your mouth.

“Such a beautiful thing, such a beautiful body for me to take…” He murmurs to himself, leaning back onto his knees so he can tower above your body, your heaving chest and spread legs.

Staring up at the man you love, the warrior that protects and provides for you, you reach out to him. Your hand slides over his firm stomach, his toned chest, all while maintaining his eye contact.

“Din,” You whisper, wanting to appease him. And your quiet voice does. “Give me more babies.”

For the most part, the lingerie barely covering your body is brushed away, exposing your stunning curves to him. His chest presses to your own when he returns to you, one hand lifting to hold your jaw open so he can lick your tongue, the other falling to his throbbing shaft. Shuffling forward, he glides the tip of himself between your legs, between your very center. With a small whine of impatience, you lift your hips up to him. And instead of making you wait, he surprises you, staring into your soul while he slides entirely inside.

“How does that feel?” He groans, leaning in to kiss your cheek while your mouth hangs open with a gasp. “How does it feel when I’m inside?”

“It’s,” Sucking in a harsh gulp of air, you swallow, eyes closing in bliss. “It’s perfect, baby. Reminds me that you’re mine.”

Smiling, you look up to see him transfixed on you, mesmerized by your beauty and devotion. “I am,” He nods, in awe of your love. “I am yours.”

Retracting his hips, he pulls out half way before rolling his pelvis back into you, the hand he used to grip himself sliding along the bedsheets so he can paw at your cheeks.

“And you,” Dipping down, he shoves himself into the crook of your neck, mouth sliding down your throat, over your collarbones, landing on your breasts. “You are mine.”

Already, you feel like you can’t breathe. Your head is tipped back, lips open while you pant. His strokes are deep and turning harsh. Every thrust is accompanied by a forced and breathy grunt, his cock heavy as it drags along your sensitive walls.

With his head on your chest, he sucks on you again, lips latching to your already puffy nipples. His words are muffled, praise dripping out with his saliva, his kisses becoming sloppy and wet and before you know it, you’re drenched in it.

“Beautiful thing,” He grumbles over you with a heated moan, “Sexy fucking woman.”

“Baby, holy fuck…”

“Do you want it?” He asked, shoving himself into you. “Do you want me to breed you? Do you want it all over again?”

“Yes, yes please. Ner verd, ner cyare.” (My warrior, my beloved)

It’s then that he pulls out and is instantly flipping you over. He loves how easy you are to maneuver, those strong hands hauling your hips into the air so he can mount you. And he does, pressing his chest to your back while bucking his hips into you. He’s stretching your sensitive lips, the coarse hair at his base rubbing over your soft skin. The soft slap of his hips against your ass is louder than he wants it to be. But he can’t stop himself, not right now.

“I want it inside.” He’s babbling into your ear, growling before he bites it. “I want it in your womb.”

“Please.” It’s all you can manage out, feeling him forcefully rut into you, pressing your face down into the sheets while he massages the fat of your ass, the thickness of your thighs.

“Your gorgeous body… always ready for me.” Din groans, leaning down to speak into your ear. Reaching around, he cups your jaw, forcing you to look up at him. “Ready to bless me, to give me more offspring.”

And then, his lips are on you, smashing to your own and feeling the vibration of your moan. He revels in it, in the pleasure he brings you. And he does mean it, every child you give him is a blessing.

You know he’s close by his grip on your jaw, fingers pinching into your cheek while his brows begin to furrow. Pushing yourself back against him, you whine beneath his weight, feeling his muscles flex against your legs and back. And you really wouldn't have it any other way. Sex has never felt better than when you’re being dominated by Din.

His high is long, drawn out completely. Hips jutting sharply against you, spilling the thickness of his seed into your center, your very core. And you can’t help but grind yourself back against him, feeling the hand on your jaw lower to grab your right breast. Lowering his head, he kisses your neck, your naked bodies rocking together.

“Just… beautiful.” He praises, “You laid beautifully for me.”

“Baby,” You whine, one hand curling around to slide your fingers through his thick, unruly hair. “I love you, I feel so connected to you.”

“We are,” He emphasizes with a roll of his hips. “We are, ner mesh’la dala. Bonded as one, you to me…” Leaning in, he gives your lips a gentle peck. “And myself to you.” (my beautiful girl)

Without fail, everytime Din came inside you, his fingers would find themselves sliding against your walls. He’d roll you onto your back, his warm body pressing against your own. His hands would spread your legs wide, his eyes watching intently as two fingers slipping into your center, rubbing against your walls. And of course, that’s what he does now.

“Perfect,” He whispers, kissing your forehead. “Every part of you.”

Din just adores the feeling of you scratching his back, so while he keeps you full, that’s just what you do. It makes the fierce warrior above you melt, relaxing against you. He lays over your body, muscles flexing as he calms down, his breaths beginning to steady. His weight is comforting, not enough to crush you but just enough for you to feel him.

“Your body is a sacred thing… you are creating warriors, cyar’ika.” Pushing his fingers a bit further into you, he sighs, nuzzling his nose against your neck, rubbing himself into the space just beneath your jaw. “I have a feeling we made one tonight.”

#reader-specific writing #Din Djarin #The Mandalorian #Din Djarin x you #Din Djarin x reader #Din Djarin x female reader #Din Djarin fluff #Din Djarin smut

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