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dhampling · 30 days

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warming 18+ fem!reader, 1.2k

Some half-lidded doze before dawn breaks and you must only be sentient because you await him subconsciously, as prey awaits a looming predator on the hill. - early morning feeding and cockwarming because i said so. inspired by this anon!!! wc: 1.2k cw: 18+, cockwarming, fondling, breeding if you squint so hard, fingering, afab reader, if there are errors no there aren't

You sincerely know you don’t hear him before he approaches, and yet the dip in the bed doesn’t startle you. Some half-lidded doze before dawn breaks and you must only be sentient because you await him subconsciously, as prey awaits a looming predator on the hill.

He has to know.

Your heart has to have given you away, no matter how unaware you are of the thrum nor how you try to temper it. It’s a gentle awakening as the birds begin their early song from rag-woven nests on their roofs outside the window, despite the world still being a few dark hours away from the burgeoning break of a new sun.

You quietly wriggle back, closer to the backboard of your tavern bed; and lift the covers by the far corner for your cool-chested lover to slide in under at your side with his usual thieves’ ease.

Astarion settles swiftly. Captures you in a few silent smiley.

A few moments of a still embrace before he takes the quilt and lifts it over the both of your heads, only to hold your face in one deep sleepy kiss whilst he melds himself to your sleep-warmed figure. His head rests on your inner arm, your other wrapped around his ribcage, while his own both capture your torso in a reverent grasp.

He’s tried to warm himself, you can tell.

He’s been under his own quilt. Your heart warms at it, so he can try and ensure his stony embrace isn’t quite so shocking to your system - but there’s little he can do to give himself heat that doesn’t involve you, and it’s something he knows as well as you.

You bow to kiss his curls and he shuffles in closer with a yawning sigh.

“Hungry?”

“Famished, my love.”

Rumble tones. You offer your inner arm from under his head and he smiles dopily against the soft skin, planting languid kisses along the flesh as he sounds out the basilic vein and rouses it to stirring.

You wish you could see him in the early din. Watch as he worships your simple flesh. He’s divine, face of the gods; beautiful and sincere at your heel.

When he has a secure lock on the vein and dips with little warning into a razor bite, it’s not as jarring as it otherwise can be. As when you offer him your neck after a long day of adventuring. It’s almost balmy to succumb to him like this, to know you have a few hours to rest after providing for him to feed with your beloved newly-warmed like a lamb in your arms.

The pain is still searing, of course; a wincing burn enough to cause strong discomfort. He reaches up under your half-gone sleepshirt and palms gently at your breast whilst he feeds in a familiar calming motion. The skin there is soft and heavy, pleasurable to the both of you when he grabs gently and holds you; thumb seeking a nipple to rub at, to pebble at his touch.

You can hear his suckling above anything the world has to offer, the deep numb in the blood rushing to your head. The precision of his latch. The slightest wiggle of incisors in your butter-soft flesh; the swallowing of spit and the thick metal of your blood, the quiet whimper growling of his groans against skin.

There are a few pained moments offset by his touches to your breast, where the intensity of his bite gives way to the delirious haze of bloodloss and you’re ecstatic in the hot thrum of your heartbeat.

To give him his morning blessing. To allow his stomach the freedom of hunger for few precious hours.

When he mounts your thigh you know he’s nearing the end of his feed, cock hard under his sleeping linens which loosen with each sleepy rut of his hips on you. By the time he’s finished his length is wholly worked free and beginning to leak his own nectar against your own sleepclothes.

His arousal instinctively gives way to your own. You feel yourself growing pliable under his kisses whilst his fangs leave your flesh.

“You feel good, sweet one?” You murmur into his hair, and he nods slowly in response whilst slowly humping your thigh; erratic movements as he instinctively searches for the warmth of your cunt.

“Thank you, perfect thing. Turn for me?”

He palms at the soft flesh of your ass under your sleepclothes as you give way to him.

The moment you turn to face the wall he has you locked in his arms, one hand groping still at your breasts whilst the other works its way to your trousers and aids you in wriggling free of them by holding them open.

When his now-warm hand reaches round your front to finger lazily at the apex of your slit, the low groan of laughter in him gives way to small trembles. You can feel the nectar he coaxes free with ease, wet in wait of him.

“Warm me while we rest?”

His voice is little more than a lusty whisper in your ear as he fiddles with the pebbling bud at your breast, hand at your honeyed cunt held still as you gently hump it in search of friction.

“Gods yes. Please.”

Your left leg gives way to him easily as he takes his newly-wet hand and lifts your inner thigh, lifting his burning cock from where it drips down onto the bedlinens and nestling it in the gap just where your sex ends.

He humps at your slit for a few moments in a fevered search of relief, the bulbous head of his cock delicious in the slick friction it offers. You want nothing more than for him to sink deep inside you and to keep him there forever with your violent spasms.

When he does give you your deepest desire, you feel yourself melting. Fingers losing their tension as you curl into yourself, his tip breaching your hole in the most sinful of delights; dipping in a few shallow thrusts as he hitches your leg at his hip before sinking in one deep push to the hilt.

He’s big. Angry in sheer lust. His cock settles deep and he lets a delirious groan before you tap his arm in silent laughter. A room full of sleeping bodies and you’re indulging like this, as you have been for the past tenday. It feels beyond sinful. He bites at your shoulder with a huge smile and a deep breath.

You could die happy, you reckon. Him inside you, shuffling to ensure the comfort of your limbs without being held by him. He’ll remain hard for a good while yet with no friction and the reassuring weight of him inside you is fast becoming your favourite feeling in the realms.

“I love you.”

It’s a quiet announcement to your shoulder, and the satisfied groan that follows is anything but.

“I love you, too. More than you know.”

His lips leave your neck as you angle your head in search of a kiss, and he’ll be damned if he leaves you hanging.

When he pulses inside you as your lips meet, tip filling your womb with prespill at the deepest part of your core; you can’t recall ever being happier.

“Sleep now, sweet thing. I’ve got you.”

And wrapped in his arms, buried inside you; you believe him.

Gods, you believe him.

#my writing #bg3 #astarion x reader #astarion ancunin #baldurs gate astarion #astarion baldurs gate #astarion #spawn astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion ancunin x reader #baldurs gate 3 #astarion ancunin x tav

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beskarandblasters · 2 months

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His Living Fleshlight

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Main Masterlist | Din Djarin Masterlist

Author’s note: This little drabble is inspired by this post and these photos! Thank you to @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin for beta reading!

Summary: You catch Din masturbating in the cockpit of the Razor Crest and end up becoming his personal fuck toy.

Word count: 760

Warnings: reader is able-bodied, long live the Razor Crest, no Grogu, established relationship, masturbation, vaginal sex, creampie, Din can pick reader up, crying during sex, pet names (cyar’ika, good girl), no use of y/n

Fic notifs: @beskarandblastersfics Fic recs: @kelbellsficrecs

You walk up the exit ramp of the Razor Crest, exhausted from a long day of running errands. It’s late at night and there’s a stillness hanging in the air. You’re excited to crawl into the bunk with Din, pressed against each other with his strong arm wrapped around you.

But when you peer inside the bunk, he’s not there. He must be up in the cockpit. That’s odd considering how late it is. You open your mouth to call out to him but you stop yourself when you hear a… familiar sound.

Modulated moans fill the small space of the Crest. He must be jerking off.

You slowly climb up the ladder, wanting to watch him in the act. Arousal pools in between your legs at the thought of watching him tug on his cock. But as soon as you’re near him, he turns the seat around to face you. You were right. His gloveless hand is wrapped around his cock, pre-cum beaded up at the tip.

“Cyar’ika,” he moans.

“Getting busy here, aren’t we?” you tease.

“Need you. Now,” he says, most likely through gritted teeth.

“Here? You don’t want to go back to the bunk?”

“Now,” he practically growls.

You’re not going to argue with that. You take off your clothes, starting with your shoes and pants, moving ever so slowly to tease him. He strokes his cock as he watches you strip, stopping himself when he gets too close.

Finally, you pull off your shirt, playfully tossing it at him. He catches it and throws it to the side, groaning, “Please. Stop messing with me.”

“I suppose you’ve waited long enough. How do you want me?”

“Get on my lap.”

You do as you’re told, straddling him in the pilot’s seat and sinking down onto his cock. He groans again, cursing under his breath in Mando’a. It’s a little hard to move yourself on him with the armrests but he takes care of that. He tugs off his other glove and grabs your waist, bouncing you up and down on his cock for you. He’s so desperate, so needy for you. His desire is animalistic, expressing itself in the way he’s absolutely using you, like you’re his toy; his toy that he gets to reduce down to a wet, shivering mess.

His cock hits the perfect angles inside you as the cockpit of the Crest is filled with the obscene, wet sounds of his cock sliding in and out of you.

“Such a good girl for letting me use her like this,” he says, visor fixed on your face and the tears building up on your lash line. You’re too far into bliss to respond with a coherent thought. Instead, you respond in a string of whimpers and moans.

“Do you like it when I use you, cyar’ika?”

“Mmm, yes, Din,” you moan just as a single tear rolls down your cheek.

He stops bouncing you on his cock for a moment to reach up and swipes it away, cocking his helmet to the side and saying, “Shh, cyar’ika, don’t cry. It’ll be over soon. You just need to cum for me, okay?”

You meet his visor and nod. Another tear spills over, running down your face. He swipes that one away too, taking the time to caress your cheek.

“That’s my girl,” he says, grabbing your waist and lifting you up and down again.

You place your hands on his shoulder pauldrons, looking for a source of purchase as he rails you. Your fingers grip the edges as you cum. Your walls clench his cock and your head is thrown back in pleasure, mangled moans and sobs forcing their way out. Even when he’s using you like a toy he does his best to hold off on his orgasm until you achieve yours. The sensation of your high triggers his and he holds you still and pressed firmly against his groin while he cums, filling you up with his spend.

Once you’re both done coming he pulls you into his chest, softly rubbing your back as you catch your breath.

“We should do this in here more often,” he muses.

“Oh yeah?” you whisper, your face beside his helmet. The cool beskar chills your skin after the vigorous amount of energy you just exerted.

“Mhm. I like using you like that,” he says. His cock is still inside you and you feel it get hard again.

“Round two?” you ask, pulling back and looking at him with a smirk.

“Round two,” he affirms.

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin smut #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x you #din djarin #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian #star wars fanfiction #pedrostories #din djarin x female reader

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 days

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Winter's King 10

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

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

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

Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)

Characters: Geralt of Rivia

Note: have a wondeful thursday.

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

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

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Queen Jazlene slumps against her chair. She’s barely awake as her eyes glaze over. Despite your deflections at serving her, she’d drunk herself to excess, swiping away goblets that weren't hers. Her constant imbibition has not been missed by her husband. Slanted looks and gristly whispers did little to deter her, your own gentle girding only fuelling her irritation.

The king stands, stepping forward to overshadow his slouching queen. He raises a hand to the remaining crowd; the clumsy and drunken dancers, the chittering ladies, and the boasting lords. They turn their attention to him and hush.

“So I must retire for the night, I bid you all a hearty rest,” he pronounces, “and may tomorrow see a brighter sun shine upon us all.”

A hurrah is sent up in return and the king waits until the large hall falls back into its previous din. He turns slowly, his head down, and flares his nostrils at his queen. His golden eyes skim up and down the table.

“Come,” he takes her hand, “let us get you abed.”

Jazlene yawns and hiccups. She does not resist as he tugs her to her feet, though she teeters once upright. He swiftly hooks his arm around her, keeping her away from the view of the hall. He huffs heavily and ushers her around the bench.

“Maid,” he demands over his shoulder.

You follow as he carries on, finding a door behind the high table. The dimness of the corridor fogs around his figure as Jazlene’s slippers begin to drag. She babbles and gurgles.

“I warned you not to drink so much,” he mutters, “why can you not obey? Why can you not just do what is best for you?”

You tread behind them silently. The king falters and grunts, scooping up his wife before she can slip further down his arm. As he lifts her, her head lolls back over his thick bicep. He growls and presses onward.

As he reaches her chamber door, you come around to open it for him. He doesn’t say a word as he enters and you wait near the entrance as he lays Jazlene down on the bed. She is very silent and still, only the subtle rise and fall of her chest suggesting a glimmer of life.

You peer around as the king looms over her, his hand on the post of the bed as he simmers at her. His other arm bends as he rubs the bridge of his nose. You go to the vanity and take the now cool basin of water. You reach into your apron pocket as you hug the large bowl and cross to the bed.

You pull out a cloth as you sit on the edge of the mattress and balance the bowl against your bent leg. You wet the fabric and lean over the queen to wipe her face. The kohl around her eyes has begun to smear and a sheen of sweat layers over her rich skin. You sense the king watching your deliberate tending.

“You are good to her,” he remarks.

“She will not feel well in the morning,” you say, “I will make sure she has water to drink and a warm compress when she wakes, your highness.”

He’s quiet as he considers your words, “you will stay with her?”

You wring out the cloth and fold it over the edge of the basin before moving it back to the vanity. You face the king and clasp your hands over your apron, “she cannot be alone when she has drunk so much. Once...” you shake your head and let the statement taper out, “your highness, she will need me.”

“Hmm,” he pulls his hand off the post, pacing around the end of the bed and turn towards you, “once what?”

“Nothing, your highness. It was only a memory I had. It doesn’t matter now.”

“I would like to hear it,” he insists.

You swallow down the dryness in your throat, “your highness, well, her mother, the duchess, she is the same about wine. Once she drank overly much that she did not wake when her stomach revolted. If we’d not been there to watch over her, she might have choked on it.”

“Ah, yes,” he stops, just a step away, “that would be unfortunate. I will thank you then for keeping a close eye on my lady wife.”

“As is my duty, your highness.”

His eyes blaze down at you and he shifts on his feet, “but will you sleep?”

“Me? I rest in the cart--”

“We will not leave on the morrow, I have business yet in the capital,” he explains, “when the lady is awake, you will make certain she is conscious, then you will go and seek rest of your own.”

“Your highness, how generous, but she would need to break her fast, and dress anew, perhaps bathe--”

“There are other maids in this castle. I am commanding you to retire for the day. You will need strength for our pending departure,” he bids, “to serve your queen upon the road.”

You bow your head, apologetic, “your highness, I did not mean to argue. Certainly, I will do as you say. Thank you for minding me.”

He inches forward and your shoulders slant as you shrink for his closeness. You see his thick fingers twiddle at his side and his hot breath blasts over you like a brazier. He cautiously bends his arm and touches the front of your apron. You quiver as you watch his calloused hand climb up the stained fabric. He pauses and shudders, pinching the loose thread poking out from the belt. He pulls it loose and rolls it between his fingertips.

“You will have new clothes,” he backs away, feeling the thread, twisting it, “you are a queen’s maid now. Not some castle sweep.”

You squeeze your hands tighter as you stare at his tunic, “yes, your highness. Thank you anon.”

He turns on his sole reluctantly and looks upon the bed. You follow his gaze to his subdued wife. He hangs his head and puts his back to you before he pivots toward the door. He stalks toward it and pulls it open with enough strength to make the hinges whine.

“Good night, little maid,” he drawls just before the door snaps shut in his stead.

You raise your eyes completely and stare at the heavy wooden slats of the door. Your chest is knotted so tight you can hardly breathe. The king’s displeasure lingers even his absence. Is he unhappy with his inebriate wife or is it you? You quickly dismiss the latter. You don’t matter so much. No, his marriage is not an easy one thus far.

⚔️

You only know Queen Jazlene is awake as she spits bile onto the floor. Her head hangs over the side of the bed as she wretches and spews, coughing and gagging until she goes limp and groans. The acidic smell permeates the chamber and you come forward to clean it away with a cloth.

Once you’ve sopped up the mess, you leave her to dispose of the smelly rags and return with a cool, fresh basin and a new cloth. You help her onto her back, propping her against the pillows and clean her face anew. She moans as she keeps her eyes closed, a ripple in her forehead.

“Too bright,” she mutters.

“I will draw the curtains, your highness,” you assure her as you rescind the cloth and rise to do so.

She winces as you pull the heavy drapes together and groans, “my husband... did he not see back to my chamber?”

“He carried you here, your highness,” you explain, “you were not feeling well.”

“Mm, I still do not,” she decries.

“Shall I call for a bath?” You suggest.

“Do what you will but be quiet,” she hisses as she shades her eyes beneath her long fingers.

She gurgles as she sinks down and rolls upon her side. She curls up and you stare at her back. You go to the door and ease it open. You emerge and pass between the guards without. You are no more than a draught to them. As you approach the stairs, your name is called from ahead. You peer down the next corridor.

“Eh, there you are,” Bryce approaches. You can tell by the shine in his hair that he has bathed, “and what mission has you so intent?”

“I am to fetch lemon water for the queen. She has a sour stomach,” you say and turn back to the steps.

The soldier descends apace with you and chortles, “as she would. She can drain an ewer like no other I’ve seen.”

“Mm,” you hum grimly.

“Ah, pardon, I do not mean to be cruel,” he says, “it is only... often we reap what we sow, yes?”

“I suppose,” you allow.

“Speaking of, mouse, it is your turn to reap,” he spins and stretches his arm across your path, “king’s orders.”

You shake your head in confusion.

“The queen--”

“I will send another for her lemon water. But our dear liege and lord has bid that you rest your head. And I do concur. You are only mortal, little mouse.”

“But I must--”

“Obey your king,” he insists and rescinds his arm, crossing it with his other across his chest. “I’ve been given leave to treat you as prisoner if ye resist but I do not wish to go so far.”

You frown. You recall the night before. The king’s orders are not forgotten but you thought perhaps they mightn’t be standing. You bow your head and press your palm to your stomach, another memory flitting through your mind. The king’s hand brushing along the belt of your apron.

“I’ve acquired you a fine chamber,” Bryce says. “Gods, how could one ever be so glum about a bed of their own?”

“Sir, I am not unhappy,” you counter. “I am...” you lift your head, “tired.”

“Oh, how the fates align,” he quips, “come then. There is a bath and new dress too. I was too kind to mention it but you were starting to smell a bit too close to Daisy.”

You can’t but laugh and snort, “hey!”

“May as well take benefit in staying still,” he says, “now, let us hurry before the water is cold.”

You acquiesce and follow him away from the kitchen. You hope Jazlene is not discontent with your straying. You walk along several corridors and up to the second floor again. You do not expect to stop at one of thick doors meant for nobility.

“In here,” Bryce takes out an iron key and unlocks the door. He pushes it open and steps back. “I will come in an hour to look in on you but I trust by then you will be abed.”

“Yes, sir, thank you,” you affirm.

“Be certain to have some of the food,” he orders you, “much better than the goat meat I’ve been chewing on.”

You thank him one last time and enter on your own. He closes the door behind you and you hear the lock twist. The loud grind of cogs does not unsettle you. It’s rare you ever have a moment of solace, though often you feel alone.

You look around the chamber. It is much too grand for you. There is a wide bed at one end with a long canopy. The window lets in a warm breeze as the steam coiling from the large tub dampens the air. The furniture here is just as fine as that in the queen’s rooms.

You meander around and stop before the covered tray on the round table. You lift the lid and reveal an assortment of fruit and cooked oats drizzled with honey. Your stomach roars and clenches painfully. Without a thought, you sit on the stool to gulp the porridge from the brim. You empty near half the bowl before you stop to catch your breath.

You pluck at the citrus and devour the fruit with delighted purrs. When you have glutted your hunger to the point of discomfort, you lick your lips and rise. You near the tub as untie your apron. Your body aches for the heat of the water.

You leave the layers of your filthy garments on the floor and step into the depths. You sigh as you lower yourself in. Relief seeps through your flesh and enshrines you. You lay back for a time and bask in the calm. Before the water can cool, you sit up to scrub yourself clean.

When you finish, you climb out and pull on the shift folded on the top of the stack; a dress, and apron, stockings, and even shoes. There is no cap. You fish around your disposed clothing and retrieve your own. You soak it in the bathwater, wringing it out until it’s not so browned.

A knock comes at the door. You sit on the edge of the mattress and call to the visitor, “hello?”

“Eh, it’s me,” Bryce’s salty timbre comes through the wood, “you sleep now, mouse.”

“Yes, sir.”

He taps the door and you hear his footsteps fade away. You recline across the bed and stare up at the canopy. You close your eyes but your stomach is uneasy. You don’t know why. The bed is too soft, the linens too fluffy.

You puff and sit up. You get to your feet and circle around the bed to the short bench across the foot of it. You tuck yourself onto the barely cushioned wood and bend your legs to fit. You fold and arm under your head. Much better.

It isn’t very long before you succumb to your fatigue. You don’t realise how tired you truly are until you’re buried in sleep. Heavy and dark, almost suffocating.

Behind your eyelids, you see streaks of colour, curling and rolling into visions. Shadowy forests and endless roads, the clop of horse hooves, the rattle of axles, and the crunch of boots in the dirt. The preening whine of the Queen as she splashes wine across your face. You gasp through the acrid sprinkle and fall backwards into air.

You land on a heap of hay. You’re back in Debray, in the barn where you would flit away with Merinda to eat or even steal a nap. She would watch at the window and you would doze or nibble. You look over but do not see her. Instead, another stands at the opening.

The king’s silver white hair hangs in waves down his muscled back. He wears only breeches as he stares off into the distance. The window greys with a storm beyond, pulsing from shades of dove feather to harrowing black. He faces you and his golden eyes glow like a wolf’s.

You sit up and whimper. He prowls closer and closer, thunder crashing as a great gust blows through the barn. Then all at once, the tempest subsides and the wooden walls turn to stone. You’re trapped beneath something unbreakable, like iron, wrists bound. You look at your arms, pinned by large hands. You look above you and find yourself straddled beneath the king.

He leans in, closer and closer, his fiery breath razing over you.

“Little maid...”

His growl snakes around your neck and you wake with a start. The bench teeters as you sit up, your hand gripping your forehead. You blink and look around, clearing the haze from your sleepy eyes.

Just as in your dream, you are not alone.

#geralt of rivia #dark geralt #dark!geralt #geralt of rivia x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #au #medieval au #winter's king #the witcher

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writingoddess1125 · 5 months

Note

Ok, I just have to ask you. Can we have more daddy Mihawk? 🫠🔥

Please 🥺

You Got is Sugar!

Mihawk x FemReader +OOC Children

Liniște! {Be Quiet!}

Since Mihawk is Romanian 🇷🇴 I thought him speaking the tongue/culture would be fun!

If I got shit wrong PLEASE tell me!

• Most people do not realize this, because Mihawk keeps it behind closed door. But- He is very heavily tied to his culture of birth.

• Most of the time at home, Mihawk has developed the habit of just speaking his native tongue. Feeling comforble enough to do so- As well as wanting to pass it on to his children.

• Mihawk summoning Alucare to his study one frosty morning, humming a song from his youth as he has a stack of papers and books before him. The gloomy teen stepping in and raising a brow at his father-

• "Închide ușa" (Close the Door-) Mihawk said calmly waving to his child who stares at him confused. "What language are you speaking old man?-"

• "From now on I'm only speaking my native language to you. So you learn or you starve-" He says calmly as he hands his son the book. "You've got to be kidding-"

• "Nu glumesc" (I'm not kidding-)

• He adores you and will speak with you privately in his native tongue, teaching you important words that will only ever be used for you-

• Does not use tradional physical punishments. Truthfully he doesn't believe in them- Yes he will be a harsh teacher in training since that is different.

• Laying next to you in the soft silks of bed whispering "Te iubesc" Softly to you. Teaching you the meanings of every word, as well as being more vocally affectionate in this language.

• "Well at least youre learning the language" Mihawk said with a heavy sigh looking at Alucare who got his ass handed to him-

• "Face din nou" (Do it again) Mihawk says calmly tapping his sword clean as Alicare laid on the ground trying to get up.

• "Du-te dracului!" (Go to Hell) Alucare growls out.

• Mihaela is constantly in his arms. He truthfully refuses to let her go, doting on her heavily and seeing her as his star in his sky.

- Mihawk walked into his father's study, raising a brow at seeing the man holding Miha still while going through papers. Mihawk glancing up at his eldest rather quickly-

• He is delicate and handles much of Mihaela nightly upkeep. Letting you sleep throughout the night since you worked so hard during the days.

• Changing diapers, getting bottles, dealing with any midnight fussiness. He handles it all with grace and making sure you sleep- As well as takes this time to clean up the nursery or the bedroom so it's something you don't stress about.

• He will immediately wake up at the first sounds of his darling daughter fussing. Walking calmly to her nursery and always greet her the same way-

• "Scumpa mea~" (My treasure) Mihawk smiling at his fussing daughter. "So beautiful, like your your mother-" before scooping her up in his arms.

• Spoils Mihaela fucking ROTTEN- The whole house does really but Mihawk is the worse..

"Seems girls ate favored in this family" Alucare muses, his words having no mallace and just a simple jest at how his sister was so heavily spoiled. Mohawk raising a brow at this and staring at his child-

"Favored?" He questioned rather calmly.

"Yeah like favorite chil-"

"No-" Mihawk said calmy but firmly, cutting off his son. "Miha is my Sun, Bright, Innocent and Sweet but clearly with a fire of an attitude. You are my Moon, Smart, Ambitious and Loyal but can be cold. And your mother, She is my sky. Day or Night she guides me and holds the two most important things in my life. You are all equally needed and important to me. Without one or another all would be lost" He clarified rather sharply.

Alucare face getting a hint of pink at the rather kind words his father spoke. Now unsure how to respond or explain to his father he was just making a joke.

Bonus!-

Mihawk notices his cigars are missing- While he doesn't personally smoke he does have expensive cigars for guest or have gifted to him as gifts-

He knew he had counted 30- yet he had only 27 in his collection. Irritation hitting him as he closes the box and calmly grabs his hat-

On the otherside of the Island, Alucare is sitting on one of the old abandoned pillars- a place he had turned into his hide out were he could relax. Currently with one bottle of wine he had snuck from his father's secret stash and a cigar.

This had turned into his favorite pass time. Drinking directly out of the bottle and taking a mouthful of smoke as he sat there looking over the gloomy island-

However this was soon to end when a menacing shadow with glowing yellow eyes stood behind him- Alucare feeling his hair stand up on end as he slowly turned to see the invision of the devil himself there.

"O să număr până la trei-"

(I'm gonna count to Three-)

#x reader #one piece #one peice x reader #one peice live action #mihawk x reader #hawkeye mihawk #one piece mihawk #dracule alucare #dracule mihawk x reader #dracule mihawk

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angelltheninth · 5 months

Text

NSFW Masterlist Part 7

DC COMICS

Friends with Benefits with Hal Jordan

Jason Todd Gets Jealous and Fucks You in an Alleyway

Conner Kent x Fem!Reader - Principle of the Thing

Clark Kent x Fem!Reader - A Needed Confidence Boost

Dick Grayson x Fem!Reader - Hold the Popcorn

Friends with Benefits with Bruce Wayne

Jason Todd x Fem!Reader - Those Who Meet in the Shadows

MCU

Matt Murdock Gets Dirty in a Church

Logan Howlett when You're a Bimbo and Cockdrunk

King Valkirie - If All of the Kings Had Their Queens on the Throne

Steven Grant x Fem!Reader - Negotiation Tactic

MCU Characters Being Caught Masturbating

Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader - Please, Say Please

ARCANE

Viktor, Jayce, Ekko and Silco Get a Boner in Public

Arcane Women with a Packer

Sub!Amab!Sevika + Cock Riding

Viktor x Fem!Reader - Lesson Learned

Arcane Men + Passionate, Sensual, Intense or Rough

Arcane Women with a Camgirl Reader

CHAINSAW MAN

Chainsaw Man Quartet Goes Feral on You

Chainsaw Man Quartet Eating You Out

Chainsaw Man Quartet Playing with You Under the Table

Aki Hayakawa Being Your Sex Summer Tutor

BLUE LOCK

Fuckboy Reo Hooks Up with You

Chigiri, Kunigami and Reo Reacting to Your New Swimsuit

Bondege with Mikage Reo

Bachira Denying You Pleasure

Using the Safe Word with Isagi, Kunigami, Kaiser and Shidou

Dry Humping with Rin, Kaiser, Karasu and Nagi

Blue Lock + Threesomes

GENSHIN IMPACT

Al-Haitham Fucking You While Kaveh is in the House

Genshin Men Get A Boner in Public

Childe x Fem!Reader - A Bet and a Prize

Genshin Men when You Confess in the Middle of Sex

Bath Sex with Thoma and Ayato

Things Genshin Men Enjoy in Bed

Genshin Men Doing You Better Then Your Ex

Forced Proximity with Genshin Men

Poly Relationship with Thoma and Ayato

Zhongli x Fem!Reader - The Morax Punishment

Make Up Sex with Genshin Men

Kaeya x Fem!Reader - How Long Can You Go

Interrupted Masturbation with Childe

Genshin Men Fucking You So Hard You Can't Walk

Hate Sex with Genshin Men

Faking an Orgasm with Genshin Men

Scaramouche and Pantalone as Vampires

Diluc x Fem!Reader - Unhelpful Help

STAR WARS

Wrecker x Afab!Reader - Getting Wreckered

Trapped in a Small Space with Din Djarin

Darth Maul x Fem!Reader - Clamming the Throne

The Bad Batch + Soft Sex

AVATAR

Jake Sully x Fem!Reader - Tails, Growls and Arousal

Tonowari Facesitting Headcanons

Avatar Men Getting Praised During Sex

Avatar Men and Their Weak Spots

Friends with Benefits with Avatar Men

Jake Sully x Fem!Reader - Newbie Mating Cycle

TWISTED WONERLAND

Trey and Cater Using a Vibrator on You

Deuce Spade x Fem!Reader - Vows on Devoted Lips

Floyd Leech x Fem!Reader - You'll Remember You Belong to Me

Twisted Wonderland Dorm Leaders + Clothing That Turns Them On

STRANGER THINGS

Eddie Making You Clean Him Up After Sex

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader - High and Horny

Billy Hargrove x Fem!Reader - The Child Support Charade

Stranger Things Men + Where They Like to Cum on Your Body

Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader - Gatekeeper to My Heart

KIMETSU NO YAIBA

Being Douma's Pretty New Maid

Karaku Giving You Oral

Fingerwarming with Tengen Uzui

BOKU NO HERO ACADEMIA

Bakugo Grinding Against You Behind the Gym

Bakugo + Bimbofication

BNHA Men Having Sex For the First Time

Husband!Shoto Gets a Blowjob From His Shy Wife

Stalkers Izuku and Dabi Finally Get what They Wanted

Tomura Shirigaki x Fem!Reader - Where Pleasure Hides

JUJUTSU KAISEN

Enemies to Lovers with Toji Fushiguro

Gojo x Fem!Reader x Geto - Threeway Fun Between Friends

Sukuna x Fem!Reader - Double Duty for the Demon King

Jujutsu Kaisen Men When You're So Full Their Cum Spills Out

Nanami Kento x Fem!Reader - Stop the Clock

Toji Fushiguro Being Your Pervy Neighbor

Toji Fushiguro x Fem!Reader - Better Than Shower Thoughts

Geto Suguru + Sex Pollen

TRIGUN

NSFW Headcanons with Vash and Nicholas

Praise and Mirror Sex with Vash

Service Top Vash

Vash, Nicholas and Millions Knives + Cum Shot

NSFW Headcanons with Millions Knives

Vash Being a Sloppy Eater

Vash, Nicholas and Millions Knives + Sex Pollen

Being Vash's First Time

CALL OF DUTY

Virginity Loss Blurb with Simon

Task Force 141 + Spots That Turn Them On

Cleaning Up with Simon

Simon "Ghost" Riley + Touch Me and You Lose

Simon and König Want to Go All Night With You

A SONG OF ICE AND FIRE

Virginity Loss with Daemon, Aemond and Harwin

Silent Blowjobs with Daemon, Aemond and Harwin

Messy Affair with Harwin Strong

#dc comics x reader #mcu x reader #arcane x reader #chainsaw man x reader #blue lock x reader #genshin impact x reader #avatar x reader #twst x reader #stranger things x reader #kny x reader #bnha x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #trigun x reader #call of duty x reader #a song of ice and fire x reader

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azrielslightintheshadows · 5 months

Text

Broken bat

Azriel x f!Reader

Summary; Reader is in love with Azriel but he is with Elain, so she decides to accept Beron's proposition and marry Eris.

Warnings; angst, swearing, mentions of blood.

Masterlist

Stars filled the sky in Velaris as the night settled in. You were sitting next to the window in your room, staring outside wondering how the hell you ended up in this situation. Your cousin Rhysand had invited you in his office to talk about a proposition from the Autumn court, Beron wanted you to marry his son Eris in order to maintain a peaceful relationship with the night court. You gaped at Rhysand not believing that your cousin was even thinking about it.

“It’s your choice, I don’t mind if you don’t want to do this but it is my duty to inform you about this” he had said. You knew Eris, you spent some time together a few months ago when you visited the winter court as Rhysand’s emissary. Eris was there to talk about some dispute between the Autumn and Winter courts. He was an arrogant male, nothing unusual for a high lord’s heir but he was also funny, and kind when he felt like it. It sure wouldn’t be a bad thing if he became your husband. You could think way worse potential marriages. You needed to think this through so you asked Rhysand to give you some time and he respected your wish.

The main reason behind your uncertainty was the stunning shadowsinger. You had been pinning after him for ages yet he completely ignored you.

You clenched your jaw at the thought and shut your eyes. Maybe marrying Eris was for the best, you could learn to love him and even forget about Azriel.

Dinner would be served soon so you gathered all your courage and walked to the dinning room. Everyone was already there and to your relief the seat next to the shadowsinger was taken by Elain leaving the opposite one free.

Any other night it would have bothered you but tonight you couldn’t sit next to him.

You stood in front of the empty seat and with a deep breath said “I have an announcement to make”. Everyone stopped what they were doing and stared at you, you felt those hazel eyes on you and gulped.

“Rhysand informed me about a proposition from the Autumn court, in order to make amends for the past and to create a peaceful relationship between the courts I am to be married to Eris”.

Everyone was gaping at you. Taking a seat, you filled your plate with food trying to avoid everyone’s gaze on you.

“Like hell you are” Azriel growled. You looked at him wide-eyed.

“It’s her decision to make Az” Rhysand replied for you.

“This is Eris we’re talking about” Azriel’s voice was rising with each word making Rhys glare at him.

“Why do you care?” Your question surprised everyone even the shadowsinger.

“Because you are Rhysand’s cousin and that makes us family too”.

You scoffed at this and got up.

“I lost my appetite, excuse me” you left the room. You heard footsteps behind you and rolled your eyes, before you could close your bedroom’s door scarred arms pushed it making you grunt.

“What do you want Azriel, I’m really not in the mood for a fight”.

He entered and slammed the door shut.

“What were you thinking when you accepted?” His eyes frantically searching your own. He wanted to read you, and this was something he was good at, so you kept your gaze on the floor.

“Eris isn’t that bad, and the marriage could be very beneficial for our court” your voice was calm “also I don’t have a reason to stay”

“What about Rhys and Mor? Your cousins need you”

“No they don’t.” You shrugged.

“What about me?” His voice was barely above a whisper.

You glanced at him “what about you?”

“I need you” he confessed, his hazel eyes staring deep into your own searching for any emotion.

“Az what do you mean?” You could swear your heart was about to explode.

He walked up to you, his eyes never leaving your own. He cupped your jaw and glanced at your lips “please stay” and with that he captured your lips with his own. The kiss was needy, his other hand moving behind your head and pushing you further into him. Your brain stopped working for a moment and then it hit you, you pushed him off and panted.

“No, you don’t get to do this. You don’t get to fucking do this, not with Elain in the other room” tears filled your eyes and you felt like you couldn’t breathe.

“I…” he began but stopped, a guilty expression on his face.

“Get out.” He just stared at you. “Get. The. Fuck. Out.” And you lost it, you picked everything you could find and threw it on the wall screaming “Get out… get out… get out”.

Your door flew open, Cassian was standing there his eyes frantically scanning the room, Rhysand behind him with a dagger in hand. Azriel was pale, he couldn’t move as he watched you destroy your room. Cassian grabbed him and pulled him out while Rhys cautiously approached you.

“I hate him… I fucking hate him” you cried out.

“Shh it’s okay” Rhysand hugged you. “Talk to Beron, the sooner we have the wedding the better.” You whispered.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

You were getting ready for your wedding, Mor, Nesta, Amren and Feyre were running around barking orders and making sure everything was perfect. You glanced at the mirror, Beron had picked your wedding dress, and it was clear that he wanted to make a statement. The dress was even more extravagant than Feyre’s, you didn’t think it was possible, but you were wrong. You didn’t even know if you could fit through the door. “That thing is hideous” Amren spoke. Everyone nodded in agreement and before you could reply Elain burst into your room, her face filled with tears and panic.

“Azriel broke up with me, he was drunk and… and he left and then I heard Eris saying that he got in a fight with someone, and he is hurt.” She was sobbing.

You gasped “Where is he?” “It’s your fault” Elain screamed.

“Elain I swear if you don’t tell me where he is….” You were interrupted by someone walking in, not just someone but your future husband. Eris stared at you and amusement filled his eyes.

“Are you wearing our wedding cake?” he teased earning a scoff. “You look terrible darling” he continued. “You know its bad luck to see the bride before the wedding” Nesta spoke.

“I know but I think that the broken and completely drunk bat in my room belongs to her.” He said with a bored look. “What is he doing in your room?” you asked.

“He was hurt, and I think he wanted to beat me up, but he passed out the moment he walked in. Anyway, please come get your bat and spare me from this horrible wedding.” He turned to walk out “and burn this thing it’s hideous”. And with that he was gone.

You glanced at Feyre who nodded, and you ran, the dress was banging against tables, destroying everything on the way but you didn’t care.

You burst into Eris’ room and there he was; on the ground covered in blood, his hair a mess and his wings tense. You kneeled next to him and caressed his head “Az..” he opened his eyes and stared at you. You didn’t know what to say so you just grabbed his jaw and kissed him. “I love you” he whispered. “I know… I love you too”

Currently working on two requests one about Azriel and one about Cassian, I will post them as soon as I finish them. Requests are open

#acotar #acotar series #azriel #azriel spymaster #feyre archeron #rhysand #azriel acotar #azriel angst #azriel shadowsinger #azriel x reader #cassian #cassian acotar #amren #mor acotar #inner circle #acotar fanfiction #eris vanserra #eris acotar #eris x reader

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elryuse · 4 days

Text

OUR NIGHT IN PARIS

TWICE MINA X MALE READER

Tags : Cold Mina, Younger Male Manager Reader, Fendi Fashion Week, Night In Paris

The Parisian air vibrated with a frenetic energy – a whirlwind of posh accents, clicking cameras, and the constant buzz of anticipation. Y/n, perpetually juggling his camera bag and a clipboard overflowing with Mina's schedule, weaved through the throngs of people at the airport. A few paces ahead walked Mina, the Kpop idol he managed. Her face, as always, was an unreadable mask – a carefully cultivated persona of the aloof ice queen.

"Mina!" Y/n called out, his voice barely audible over the din. "Don't forget your sunglasses! The paparazzi will be brutal."

Mina turned, a flicker of something akin to annoyance crossing her porcelain features. "I know," she said, her voice clipped and emotionless. It was a familiar exchange, this dance they'd perfected over the years. Y/n, the ever-organized and cheerful manager, and Mina, the stoic and fiercely independent star.

Yet, sometimes, when their eyes met in fleeting moments, Y/n swore he saw a spark – a hint of warmth that contradicted her icy exterior. He knew the pressures she faced – the relentless schedules, the constant scrutiny, the never-ending need to be perfect. It weighed heavily on her, a burden she rarely spoke of.

They arrived at their luxurious hotel suite overlooking the Seine. Y/n busied himself unpacking Mina's designer clothes while she retreated to the bathroom. From behind the closed door, a soft sigh reached his ears.

"Y/n," she called out, her voice softer than he was used to. "Can you come here for a moment, please?"

He approached the bathroom cautiously, a knot of apprehension forming in his stomach. Mina stood by the sink, her face bare of makeup, showcasing the vulnerability etched around her eyes. There was a raw desperation in her gaze that sent a jolt through him.

"Mina, is everything alright?" he asked, concern lacing his voice.

She took a deep breath, her perfect facade crumbling around the edges. "No, Y/n," she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. "Everything is… not alright. At least, not the way it should be."

Y/n's heart hammered against his ribs. He'd never seen her like this, so vulnerable, so… real. "What's wrong, Mina? You can tell me," he urged, his voice gentle.

She reached out, her hand trembling slightly as it grasped his. The warmth of her touch sent a shiver down his spine. "Y/n," she began, her voice barely above a breath. "You… you have no idea how much I…"

Her words trailed off, replaced by a frustrated growl. Y/n, emboldened by her vulnerability, decided to take a chance. "Mina," he said softly. "You can tell me anything."

She met his gaze, her eyes blazing with an intensity that left him breathless. "I want you, Y/n," she confessed, her voice husky with suppressed desire. "I've wanted you for months, maybe even years."

Y/n's breath hitched. This was a revelation, a secret confession that shattered the carefully constructed image of the cold, unapproachable star. "Mina… I…" he stammered, unsure of how to respond.

Tears welled up in her eyes, threatening to spill over. "Don't you get it? This whole facade, it's killing me! I can't pretend anymore. I want to be with you, Y/n. Not as your manager, but as…" Her voice trailed off, a blush creeping up her neck.

Y/n understood. As manager, he was expected to maintain a professional distance. But the truth was, he had harbored a secret crush on Mina for a long time, his feelings masked by his cheerful demeanor.

"Mina," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I… I feel the same way. But… this can't happen. What about your career? What about the fans?"

She scoffed, a hint of her fiery personality returning. "The fans? They don't know the real me. They only see the carefully packaged idol they want to see." Her gaze softened. "But you, Y/n, you see me. All of me. The good, the bad, the scared little girl beneath the glitter and the costumes."

He cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs gently brushing away the tears that escaped. "And I love everything I see," he confessed, his voice a husky murmur.

A hungry glint ignited in Mina's eyes. Before he could react, she grabbed his hand, pulling him towards the plush bed in the center of the room. With a swift movement, she tossed him onto the soft sheets, her body following in a flurry of silk and lace. Y/n landed with a soft gasp, his heart pounding against his ribs in a chaotic rhythm. Mina straddled him, her weight a delicious pressure on his lower body.

"Don't worry about the outside world, Y/n," she whispered, her voice husky with desire. "Tonight, it's just you and me."

Her eyes, usually cool and distant, were now ablaze with an inferno, reflecting the fire that burned bright within him. He reached out, hesitantly at first, tracing the delicate curve of her cheekbone with his thumb. Her breath hitched, and she leaned into his touch, a silent plea for him to take control.

"Mina," he breathed, his voice thick with a mixture of fear and desire. "Are you sure about this?"

A smile, genuine and breathtaking, curved her lips. "Never been more sure in my life."

With newfound confidence, Y/n cupped her face and tilted it towards his. The space between their lips dwindled, the air thick with anticipation. When their lips finally met, it was an explosion of pent-up emotions. The kiss was desperate and hungry, a clash of tongues and heated breaths that spoke volumes more than words ever could.

He explored her mouth with a reverence that surprised even himself, his fingers trailing down her back, sending shivers down her spine. Her response was immediate – a low moan escaping her lips as she arched into his touch. Her hands, usually adorned with expensive rings, dug into his shirt, pulling him closer, anchoring him to her.

The silk of her dress, a delicate shade of lavender, became an obstacle, a barrier he needed to overcome. His fingers fumbled with the zipper, a silent struggle that only heightened their anticipation. With a soft sigh of relief, the dress fell away, revealing a glimpse of her flawless skin beneath.

Mina gasped, a mixture of surprise and delight at his sudden boldness. But her surprise was quickly replaced by a fierce possessiveness. Her hands roamed his body, tracing the contours of his chest, lingering on the toned muscles of his arms.

"Y/n," she breathed, her voice laced with a newfound vulnerability.

He responded by peppering kisses down her neck, his lips trailing down to the soft skin of her collarbone. Her whimpers of delight fueled the fire burning within him. He trailed his kisses further, his hands reaching the hem of her black lace lingerie, sending a jolt of electricity through him as his fingers grazed the smooth skin of her stomach.

A gasp escaped her lips as he unhooked the delicate clasp, the wispy fabric falling away like a discarded dream. He paused, his gaze locked on her beautiful body, a masterpiece revealed in the soft glow of the bedside lamp. Mina met his gaze, her eyes filled with a mixture of desire and a hint of shyness that sent a wave of protectiveness through him.

"Y-you're beautiful," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

The compliment, simple as it was, seemed to break the last dam holding back her desires. "Take me, Y/n," she breathed, her voice rough with passion. "Take everything I have to offer."

He no longer hesitated. With a surge of possessiveness that surprised even him, he cupped her face and deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring the sweet recesses of her mouth with a newfound urgency. He explored her body further, his touch sending shivers down her spine as he traced every curve and dip.

Mina responded with a fervor that surprised him. The ice queen facade was completely gone, replaced by a woman consumed by raw desire. Her moans and gasps filled the room, a symphony of passion that echoed in his ears long after.

The night unfolded in a whirlwind of tangled limbs and stolen kisses. They explored each other's bodies with a newfound urgency, their inhibitions melting away with each touch. Y/n, usually shy and reserved, found himself taking control, his voice husky with desire as he whispered sweet nothings in her ear.

Mina, the dominant one in most aspects of their lives, reveled in his newfound boldness. She surrendered to his touch, her body responding to his every command with a fervor that left him breathless. As the night wore on, the initial urgency gave way to a deeper connection. Their movements became more synchronized, a wordless communication guided by instinct and an overwhelming need for each other.

As dawn painted streaks of pink across the Parisian sky, they lay entangled in the sheets, their breaths ragged and their bodies flushed with the afterglow. The silence was comfortable, a shared secret language only they understood.

"Mina," Y/n whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "W-We can't keep doing this," he finished, his voice laced with a mix of exhilaration and trepidation. The weight of reality settled over them like a cool autumn breeze after a scorching summer day.

Mina, nestled in the crook of his arm, let out a soft sigh. "I know," she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. Her eyes, though still shimmering with the afterglow of their night, held a hint of worry.

The fashion week, the meticulously planned schedule, the constant scrutiny of the media – it all seemed distant and irrelevant at the moment. But they knew it wouldn't stay that way.

Y/n brushed a stray strand of hair from Mina's face. "What about the fans?" he asked, his voice barely above a murmur.

She bit her lip, a flicker of defiance crossing her beautiful features. "The fans love authenticity, Y/n. Maybe, just maybe, by showing a more human side, I can connect with them on a deeper level."

The idea resonated with him. He had witnessed firsthand the pressure Mina faced to maintain an unrealistic image. Maybe, just maybe, this could be a chance for her to finally be herself.

"But what about the company?" he continued, worry creasing his brow. "They wouldn't be happy, to say the least."

Mina, ever the strategist, offered a solution. "We can keep it a secret, at least for now. But we need a plan, a way for us to be together openly sometime in the future."

Y/n's mind raced. He knew the challenges they faced were immense, but the memory of their night, the raw connection they shared, fueled his determination.

"We'll figure it out," he said, his voice filled with newfound confidence. He squeezed her hand gently. "But for now, let's just enjoy this moment."

The following days in Paris were a whirlwind of stolen glances, secret touches, and late-night conversations that stretched into the early hours. They explored the city together, hand-in-hand under the cloak of anonymity, sharing experiences they could never have had back in Seoul.

The pressure of the industry seemed to melt away in each other's presence. Mina's smile became genuine, her laughter unrestrained. Y/n, witnessing this transformation, felt a surge of protectiveness towards her. He understood now the burden she carried, the weight of expectation on her young shoulders.

One evening, as they stood on the Pont Alexandre III overlooking the Seine, a sense of calm settled over them. The city lights twinkled in the water, casting a magical glow on their faces. Mina turned to Y/n, her eyes sparkling with newfound confidence.

"Thank you, Y/n," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "Thank you for seeing me, for believing in me."

He cupped her face in his hands, his gaze filled with tenderness. "It was always you, Mina. The idol, the performer, all that… It's amazing, but it's just a part of you. The real you, the one I see now, that's the one I fell in love with."

Their lips met in a kiss, a silent promise under the Parisian sky. The road ahead wouldn't be easy, but they knew they would face it together, their love story a secret symphony playing in the heart of the City of Lights.

Back in Seoul, the carefully constructed facade resumed, but something had fundamentally changed. Their stolen moments, the shared secret buried deep within them, fueled their love and determination. Y/n, emboldened by their experience, started subtly advocating for Mina to show more vulnerability in her public persona. Their collaboration resulted in a poignant ballad that spoke of inner strength and overcoming societal pressures. The song resonated deeply with fans, establishing a new level of connection between Mina and her audience.

Months later, fueled by public support and Mina's increasing popularity, they decided to take a leap of faith. In a daring move, Y/n announced his resignation as Mina's manager, citing artistic differences. The news sent shockwaves through the industry, but their carefully crafted public statement, hinting at a desire to pursue creative independence, softened the blow.

A few weeks later, another bombshell dropped. Mina released a new vlog titled "My Story." In the video, she shed the idol mask, baring her struggles and aspirations, and finally acknowledging her love for Y/n. The internet exploded, but the overwhelmingly positive response from fans surprised everyone.

Their love story, a testament to authenticity and courage, resonated with millions. It sparked conversations about mental health in the industry and challenged unrealistic expectations placed on idols.

Though not without its challenges, Mina and Y/n built a new career together. They formed their own agency, one that Though not without its challenges, Mina and Y/n built a new career together. They formed their own agency, one that prioritized artist well-being and embraced vulnerability. Their path wasn't easy – there were lost endorsements, disgruntled executives, and the constant scrutiny of the media.

But they weathered it all, their love story a shield against the storm. Mina thrived creatively, her music exploring uncharted territory of raw emotions and social commentary. Y/n, his passion reignited, became her creative partner, co-writing and directing her music videos.

One rainy night in their shared apartment in Seoul, they reminisced about their Parisian escape. The city lights twinkling outside the window mirrored the sparks in their eyes.

"Remember that first night?" Mina asked, her voice laced with a playful smile as she snuggled closer on the couch.

Y/n chuckled, a warmth spreading through him at the memory. "How could I forget? You broke the ice queen act with a bang."

Her playful smile faltered slightly. "I was scared, Y/n. Scared of losing everything I had built."

He reached out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "But you gained something far more valuable – freedom, and love."

Her eyes locked with his, a familiar heat rising in their chests. The rain outside became a white noise as their gazes held a conversation that needed no words. In a silent agreement, they moved in unison.

Y/n carried her to the bedroom, the familiarity of their bodies a comforting reminder of their journey. The clothes came off in a flurry, their skin meeting with a delicious warmth. This time, the urgency was replaced by a tenderness that spoke volumes. They explored each other with a newfound appreciation, their touches laced with love and respect.

Mina, no longer the domineering force of their first encounter, surrendered to his touch. Her moans were soft, laced with a hint of vulnerability that sent shivers down his spine. He whispered sweet nothings in her ear, each word a promise of forever.

As dawn painted the cityscape a soft orange, they lay entwined, their breaths synchronized in a peaceful rhythm. The rain had stopped, leaving the world washed clean and fresh.

Y/n brushed a kiss to her forehead. "We did it, Mina," he whispered.

A sleepy smile graced her lips. "We did, Y/n. We did."

In the quiet intimacy of their love nest, they knew their journey had just begun. The city outside might have been Seoul, but in their shared world, Paris, with all its stolen moments and whispered promises, would forever hold a special place – a testament to their love story, a love that dared to break the mold and embrace the beauty of imperfection.

#myoi mina #twice mina #mina #twice smut #mina smut #smut #sexy content #kpop #kpop x reader #kpop x y/n #x male reader #beautiful #apreciation post #update #kpop smut #kisses #paris

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yeollie-plz · 4 months

Text

Geese A Laying

Day 6 of Pedromas! | Masterlist

Din Djarin x F! Reader

Synopsis: Din loves being inside of you. That's it, that's the tweet.

Genre: smut

Warnings: cockwarming, p in v sex, a bit of somnophilia (consented), unprotected sex

Gif credits to owners!

You woke up slowly, blinking as your eyes adjusted to your surroundings. The quarters that you and Din shared were a bit of a mess at the moment, your clothes and his armor strewn around after the events of last night.

You let out a yawn as you try to stretch your limbs. The stretch falls short as you are currently trapped by Din’s arm holding your waist, his leg draped over your own. But really what is keeping you where you are is the feeling between your thighs, more like Din’s cock still inside of you.

Instead of another yawn, you let out a moan at the feeling. Waking up with his cock inside of you was such a delicious feeling.

You smirk as an idea pops into your head. Slowly you start to move your hips back into his, pushing his dick further into you. Then you move them forward, his soft member slowly coming to life inside of you as you fuck onto it. You repeat your motions for a little before he starts to stir.

But now you are lost in your lust and can’t stop. So when he growls awake, grabbing your hips, you don’t care and continue to move them. He wraps his arms further around you, forcing you to still your movements.

“What do you think you’re doing, cyar’ika?”

“You just felt so good inside of me, I couldn’t help myself.” You throw him some puppy dog eyes as you glance back at him. The angle a bit awkward seeing as he was basically holding you hostage, not that you were complaining.

His grip loosens a bit at your confession, “Well then, by all means, continue. Get yourself off on me, mesh’la.”

And so you do, you return to your previous pace. Your body thankful for the continued pleasure, after stopping so abruptly earlier.

Your hips begin to move quicker now, trying to chase that release. His hand wanders up your front and grips your breast firmly. He teases the nipple with his fingers, causing you to moan.

Suddenly, he lets out a grunt, you know he is close too. He returns his hand to your hip, guiding you onto him. Trying to help both of you reach your peaks.

Your body is so pliable since having just woke up, that your orgasm is fast approaching. Your walls clench onto him, he grips your hips pulling you back harshly.

This just causes more arousal to course through you, bringing you even closer to your peak. He grunts again and you feel his hips stutter forward a bit. His seed filling you up as he cums into you.

The feeling sends you over your edge, as you clench onto him, milking him. He kisses your neck, before biting lightly, and kissing the spot again.

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum.” He mutters into your neck.

“I love you too.” You whisper back.

<- Previous Day | Next Day ->

Taglist:

@britlord @kittenlittle24 @godlypresley @amyispxnk

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softlyspector · 1 year

Note

“Have you ever kissed anyone before?” with Din? Soooo excited to see you writing for him 😍😍

“Have you ever kissed anyone before?” + Din Djarin

a/n: thank you for requesting more Din. im really enjoying writing for him. the crest is still alive in this because i miss it.

You know more than most about Mandalorians, about their culture and way of life.

Even still, you know relatively little.

"Have you ever kissed anyone before?" You ask Din one evening. You're on some backwater world, resting while he builds a fire. A boreal forest hems you into the cocoon of darkness that's fallen, the scent of pine and seawater filtering through the cool air, chased by the acrid smell of smoke.

You shiver in the damp.

Apparently this is the warm season for this world, and you should be grateful you aren't sitting in a pile of snow.

He doesn't so much as pause in what he's doing, stacking logs of wood into a pile to your left. Din straightens and glances back at you, before reaching over his shoulder to unhook the cloak from his back.

He also doesn't answer you, simply draping his cloak around your shoulders when he passes behind you.

"Did you hear me?" You ask lightly, stroking the ears of the baby asleep in your lap. Your crossed legs make a perfect nest for Grogu, the blanket you borrowed from the Crest swaddled around him.

Din takes a seat on the ground opposite you, across the leaping flames of the little fire.

You lean back on your palms and raise a brow, watching the flicker of orange light against the shine of the beskar.

"I heard you," he answers simply.

"Care to answer?"

He remains silent and still.

You decide to try another question, another way.

You're curious. You can't help it, not when you've been traveling together for so long, not since he gave you his name.

It's rarely spoken, but to know it is enough. You hoard it inside, close to the rim of your heart, secretly smug that you know and not many others do.

"When can you remove your helmet? Do you ever?"

Din makes a noise that's something between an irritated huff and a growl.

"Shouldn't you know?" He replies, his tone mild. "You were a foundling once."

It was the thing that brought you and the Mandalorian together, when he'd been getting repairs done to his ship on your world. You'd tried to mind yourself but when he kept showing up in the market where you worked you hadn't been able to help it.

It had been along time since you'd seen a Mandalorian, and you'd never stopped being fond of them.

"For only a year," you remind him. The Mandalorian that had saved your life had reunited you with your people fairly quickly. It was a rarity, most foundlings were orphans, without a people. "And I was a child. It's been a long time."

Those months had endeared you to the Mandalorians. They carried a feared reputation, and for good reason, but you've never felt anything but fondness despite their peculiarities.

"No living thing may see our faces," he eventually replies, unmoving and still as a stone.

You sit forward again, tracing Grogu's ears once more. "So," you smirk, not looking up. "You've never kissed anyone."

Din just sighs and reclines against the fallen log behind him. "That is not what I said."

"No," you say, "But it's what you meant."

Din doesn't reply, but you imagine if you could see his face he'd be rolling his eyes. Instead, his head jerks to the side in an irritated tilt.

You laugh, and turn to pick through the bag of supplies he'd left next to you, looking for something to roast over the fire. The baby would be hungry when he woke.

"I'm not making fun of you, you know," you continue. "I was just curious."

Din just sighs again, the sound more than a little grumpy in tone.

You decide to let the silence last, putting yourself to work in preparing something to eat. The Mandalorian remains silent and still as you work.

He's so still you wonder if he's fallen asleep.

But when the baby wakes, he immediately reaches for him. You let the child waddled himself over to his father before standing to walk the food around to Din.

He takes it from you with a nod of thanks, shredding pieces of the roasted meat to feed slowly to Grogu. The child had a penchant for eating too much too quickly.

You place yourself next to him, wrap the cloak around your shoulders and lean back against the log, intending to doze there between the warmth of Mando and the fire. The cloak smells like him, like the forest around you. It's comforting.

"The Mandalorian that saved you," Din says when you're near sleep, "did they reveal their face to you?"

You blink over at him, and find Din watching you closely, the child cooing up at the pair of you. "Yes," you murmur, "But only because-,"

"You were a foundling. Their child."

"Yes."

"Yes," he agrees. "There are exceptions to every rule. No living thing may see a Mandalorian's face, aside from their children and partner."

You hum and tilt your head, poking lightly at him, "So, you have to find someone willing to become your partner to get a kiss."

He sighs again, but this time it's more amused than anything. "That is not what I said," he repeats.

"You get more cryptic with time, have I ever told you that?"

It's hard to tell because of the modulated tone of his voice, but you think he laughs. "The rules can be...bent-," the visor tilts toward you, the heavy cut of his gaze resting on you. You feel it, even from behind the helmet, "-without being broken."

"That doesn't seem very This is the Way of you," you scoot closer and nudge your arm into his.

"Maybe not," he concedes, tearing another bite of meat for Grogu. "But...many things are not."

You lean your head against his shoulder, drowsy with sleep. It's warm there between him and the fire, and his voice is soothing. You know he's thinking of his transgressions against the Way.

"You did what you had to," you assure him, though you know it means little. You don't necessarily agree with the assessment that he'd broken his creed, but you also know that that you think that means very little. "To protect your clan."

Din remains silent until the roasted meat is gone and Grogu has sunk back into sleep once more. You aren't far behind the child, once again having almost fallen asleep, wrapped in the warmth of the cloak, the scent and safety of the warrior at your side.

His helm turns in your direction. "Would you like to know how the rule gets bent?"

You lift your head, somewhere between wakefulness and groggy sleep. "What?"

"Close your eyes."

You comply without thinking about it. "Don't open them."

"I won't."

Something flutters in your chest when you hear the hiss of the release on the helmet. "This is how," he says, his voice close and unmodulated. You hear the thump of the helmet being placed carefully on the ground.

You have no urge to open your eyes, not even curiosity could outweigh the respect you have of him.

But you do gasp when his hands cradle your face, the scent of worn leather invading your senses, of being seen without seeing. The pads of the gloves he always wears smooths over your cheekbones before soft lips land on yours.

The kiss is brief and chaste, his top lip only fitting between yours for a moment. He kisses you very softly, but it's enough to taste him, to make your skin prickle with heat.

The press of his brow to yours afterwards is more intimate than any kiss ever will be. You don't know everything about the Mandalorians, but you know the significance of that.

You feel his breath against your lips, the slight tickle of facial hair. "Yes," he finally answers you, "I've kissed someone before."

You smile and lean into the touch, leaning into the press of his forehead to yours. "Funny how you've only said that after kissing me."

You mean it as a joke, but he merely kisses you again and says, "Yes."

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mandalorian x reader

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vorpan-yaimi · 1 year

Text

metal vocalist din au.......

#din djarin #the mandalorian #with his growls in tusken i think he would be a great growl vocalist

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thetriumphantpanda · 8 months

Text

i'll be needing stitches | din djarin

Summary | The Mandalorian has never had someone else tend to his wounds.

Pairing | Din Djarin x F!Reader

Word Count | 2.1k

Warnings | Future chapters will include smut, but this one involves mentions of injuries, a dead bounty, explicit descriptions of an untrained professional stitching someone up, blood, some explicit thoughts and some yearning.

Authors Note | My favourite tin can man is back and ready for business. I am having such a wonderful time imagining all the things Din has never experienced before and the idea that he has only ever been the one to patch himself up was more than I could cope with. As always, comments, reblogs and freaking out in my ask box are all welcome and if you enjoyed this, please consider supporting me with a donation to my Ko-Fi.

I no longer use taglists - please follow @thetriumpantpandanotifs and turn on notifications to know when I upload fics.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Ko-Fi

He’d been gone a few days. That was nothing new. Off hunting his next bounty, leaving you in charge of child. You didn’t mind it, once you’d gotten used to the fact that you couldn’t really reason with him, and that you’d be tired from constantly keeping an eye on him, he was actually pretty decent company.

You’re fussing with him, trying to get him to go down for some rest when the Crest doors open and there’s the sound of a body hitting the floor. That’s nothing out of the ordinary, so you don’t rush to see what’s happening. What is out of the ordinary is the sound of metal crashing to the floor right after it.

You whip around, looking at the scene before you. There’s a dead bounty on the ground, being kept company by Mando, who is crumpled on the floor in his armour, a pool of blood seeping out from underneath his left leg as he struggles to push himself up.

“Bloody hell,” you exclaim, immediately dropping all worry of the child to drop to your knees next to him, “What the hell happened?!”

He doesn’t respond, just grips at the injured leg, trying to get the bleeding to subside. His trousers are torn and there’s a nasty gash to the skin of his thigh that is about to cause a whole world of problems if you can’t fix it.

With your hand on his shoulder, placed there to let him know you’re near, you whip your head around trying to remember where he keeps the healing equipment. He’s needed it before, but only for minor injuries, and has never needed your help before, but with the way the blood is spreading across the floor, he’s going to need you now.

He feebly lifts a hand, pointing in the direction of his bunk, “Left it…. There.” He struggles to spit out.

“Okay, I’ll fetch it,” your voice is laced with panic, like if you leave him now, he’s going to pass out, or worse, “You’ve gotta promise me you’ll stay with me, okay?” There’s no response, “Mando? You hear me? No sleeping!”

He mumbles something unintelligible under his helmet but at least he’s talking. You let your hand drop, guiding him down to lie on the floor whilst you rush to his bunk, pulling at the haphazard sheets until the first aid box appears at the foot of the bed. You’re back on your knees next to him in no time, and he’s still moving about and groaning as you put your hand on his thigh to get a better look at his wound.

Your fingers tear at the edges of the material, wanting to allow him to keep his modesty but see the extent of the damage. The gash is angry, blood seeping from it with red edges. You tip the top of the box open and root through it. There’s a single bottle of bacta spray, which you pull out, give a little shake and go to take the top off, when his wide palm circles around your wrist to stop you.

“No.”

You let a frustrated growl leave your throat, “Then what, Mando?!” You exclaim, “You’re bleeding out, what am I meant to do?!”

“The thread,” He chokes out, “Just stitch it up.”

You look him straight in the visor, hoping your disapproving look is landing through his beskar. You are not a nurse, if you try and stitch him up you’re only going to make it worse.

“I’m going to make it worse like that,” You insist, “I’ve never stitched anything in my life.”

“Y-yes you have,” he squeezes your wrist, to reassure you, “Y-your tunic.”

“Mando, this is your fucking leg we’re talking about, not my clothes, it’s completely different.”

He pulls on your arm now, dragging your attention to him, craning his helmet as much as he can to look at you, “Do not waste that spray.” He demands, and even when he’s bleeding out on the floor, he commands you, knows that no matter what, he calls the shots - he lets your arm go, pushing you away gently but towards his leg.

You could argue with him that saving him from certain death is not wasting it, but the longer you bicker, the less time you have, so with shaking hands, you put the bacta spray back, and instead find the needle and surgical thread. With shaking hands, you do your best to thread the needle and tie it off at one end, before your hands are grasping at his thigh.

“This is going to suck,” You mutter, because it is, it would suck at the hands of a trained professional, so it’s definitely going to suck at the hands of someone who could barely sew their own clothes together, “I’m sorry.”

You don’t give him enough time to respond, or yourself much time to consider what you’re actually doing, you just push the needle through the skin closest to you and over to the other side, trying not to look up or focus too hard on the sounds he’s making as you drag the needle back and forward through his skin, watching as the skin closes together the further along the wound you pull. Your hands are shaking, and you’re holding your breath, but you don’t seem to be making it worse, which is something you’ll take.

You’re trying your best to concentrate on making the line of stitches as neat and tidy as you can, but all you can really focus on are the sounds that are coming from underneath that helmet of his. Low groans and grunts of pain as you work the needle through his skin, groans and grunts that you can’t help thinking about in another context, like if you weren’t currently trying to stitch him up and instead he had you pinned down and was- okay, no absolutely not.

You shake your head, trying to rid yourself of the now incredibly distracting train of thought. Sure, there have been moments when you’d thought about it, though about what kind of lover he would be, mainly only out of curiosity than your own desires. But ever since he took that damn helmet off in the rain and touched your face, you can’t help but wonder what kind of lover he’d be for you.

Whilst he’s led there on the floor, all his trust put in you to patch him up and make him better, make sure he lives, and all you can is wonder what those sounds would be like for you. What the press of his thighs would do to your own when he put himself between your body, or what this specific thigh, gripped in your hand, clenched as you push the needle through once more, would feel like between your legs. Would he guide you through it, with those big hands on your hips, or would he lean back and let you take what you needed? Would he snake that hand down the front of your trousers and help you along, or would he let you do it all yourself?

He’s agitated, and understandably so, it’s been a slow patch up, with you making sure that the scar your sutures will leave is as neat as it possibly can be. As you bend your head to look closely as you tie another knot in the end of the stitches, you realise he will have this for the rest of his life. A permanent mark on his skin, made by someone else sure, but patched up by you. The Mandalorian will always have this reminder of you etched into his skin, even if, for some reason, you cease to exist in his life. It’s primal, the way is makes you feel, that one day, if you’re gone, he’ll have to explain your existence to someone when they ask how he got that scar. You will forever be a piece of him.

He’s gone suspiciously quiet, the pain you were causing him by driving a needle through his damn skin has made way to a dull throb. You reach into the first aid box, pulling out some gauze and tissue. You use the tissue and what little disinfectant there is to clean the sutures and the blood from his skin, before haphazardly taping the gauze over it to try and keep it clean and free from infection.

He pushes himself up on his elbows once you’re done, watching as you clean away your mess. He wants to reach out to you, he wants to touch you, to anchor himself to you and never let go, to thank you, but instead he simply tries to push himself up whilst trying to keep the stitches you just put in him intact. He lets out a pained groan, you whip your head around.

“Maker, help me,” You grumble, dropping the things you were attempting to clean up to rush back to his side, “I just sewed you up and you’re trying to move on your own?” You’re trying to speak in a tone that is authoritative but it doesn’t seem to come out that way, “Can’t you just sit still for a minute?”

“Need to get us out of here,” He mumbles, taking hold of your hand that you’ve offered him, using your body to steady himself as he pulls himself up off the floor, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” You ask, letting him lean on you slightly for support as he hobbled toward the ladder to the cockpit, despite him weighing considerably more than you.

He doesn’t actually respond to your question, once he’s at the cockpit ladder, he seems to not need your help anymore – struggling up the steps, grunting with each movement of his injured leg, so you let him go, turning around to finish cleaning up. As you’re cleaning the blood from the floor, you’re face-to-face with the body of the bounty he’d dropped on the floor. You’d seen him deal with these bounties more than once – normally when they’re talking back and fighting – so this will prove easier than anticipated. The bounty is slight, so dragging it into the carbonite chamber is easy enough. You flip some switches and press a few buttons and in no time the bounty is stuck there, waiting to be handed off whenever Mando gets you back to Nevarro.

It’s not until much later that he reappears. You’ve fed the child, fed yourself, left a ration pack for him, and you’re just killing time, waiting for the child to wear himself out so you can finally let the exhaustion take over your body and sleep. Mando leans himself against the wall, watching you as you fuss over the child.

“Thank you,” His modulated voice hits your ears, “I’ve never had someone to help me like that.”

You look at him – this one doesn’t surprise you, the lone warrior who hasn’t allowed anyone but you to travel with him, of course he’s only ever had himself to stitch up his wounds.

“Well, I don’t know how to drive this damn thing,” You speak, knocking your knuckles against the wall next to you, “So it was pretty important for you not to die,” you wait for him to laugh but he doesn’t, “You’re welcome,” you speak quietly then, “Sorry it was a horrible sewing job.”

He walks towards you now, visible limp but better than you imagine anyone else with a similar injury would walk, sitting down on the bench next to you. He’s so close that you can feel the heat emanating from his body. He sets a gloved hand on your own thigh, squeezing it slightly, making your pulse jump. He has to know, right? He has to know that he has this effect on you? That whenever he touches you, though that isn’t often, it makes your blood boil with want. Does he know that as your hands worked to close his wound earlier all you could think about was what his perfect, meaty thigh would feel like wedged between your own?

He doesn’t move his hand, just lets it rest there, thumb rubbing across the material of your trousers, comforting you, because he’d scared you earlier, he knows he did, and he needs you to know he’s never going to leave you, even if he’s not quite ready to verbalise that to you yet. You let your head drop to his shoulder, closing your eyes as he stays there for you, his body offering you’re the comfort you so desperately need.

“I’m always going to fix you Mando,” you speak quietly, “You’ll never have to stitch yourself up ever again.”

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e-nonsense · 4 months

Note

Ok so I absolutely love your batsis stories. But may I ask of you to make one where Batsis smuggles a baby capybara into the manor?

Like in the dead of night brings it home and the 1st person to figure it out is technically Ace then Damian?

If not, that's fine.

pairing. Batfamily x batsis!reader

summary. Reader smuggles (and fails) her new pet into the manner.

warnings. swearing, jason Todd. NOT PROOFREAD

authors notes. i feel like I’m known for my batsis works and thank youuuu i genuinely enjoy writing batsis. capybara’s are lowkey kinda cute. How did I forget to post this?

wc. 0.?k

You shrieked nearly silently as you tried to hush Ace’s barks and growls at the fuzzy small animals in your arms. You shuffle as silently as possible, as it was an hour past midnight. Ace’s growling was making hard though.

The animal in your arms was fast asleep thankfully, you ran up the stairs, skipping steps as you went up. You made it to your room quickly, shutting the door just as soon as Ace made it in as well.

Your room was neat, the back wall was a bookshelf, filled to the brim with not your books but Jason’s. As your older brother spent most of his time brooding in your room.

You dimmed the lights so it wasn’t too bright for the animal in your arms, Ace growled at it again before jumping onto your bed claiming his spot on the comfortable mattress.

A knock on your door startled you, “ukhti?” His title for you in Arabic came through the door. “Are you awake?”

Swearing under your breath you placed the baby capybara on your bed, hiding it behind a pillow. Ace growled again and you glared at him, the brave dog looked down and pretended to sleep in response.

Creaking your bedroom door open and looking down at your little brother’s tan face, “hi Dami. What can I do for you?”

“Ace was barking,” he murmured, half asleep. Tonight was one of the few nights he stayed back from patrol.

“Oh, yeah he was just..” you shrugged, huffing at the unamused look on the boys face. “No use lying to you huh,” you snorted, stepping aside for him to enter.

“But you gotta keep it a secret,” he raises a brow but nods in agreement.

“Okay.”

You moved to your bed lifting the pillow to reveal the sleeping baby capybara. You grinned sheepishly as you stroked its fur.

“We are keeping it,” Damian nodded. “No matter what Father and Pennyworth say.”

You raised a brow in amusement before agreeing.

The two of you spent the next hour and a half fighting over names for the capybara before deciding to get a second opinion when Jason stormed in swearing at Bruce.

He froze and stared at you and Damian. “What the fuck is that?” He pointed to the capybara. He didn’t like the look you and Damian shared, now he was sat on your bed, a book open in front of him.

“This is bullshit,” he huffed boredly, eyes scanning over the words on the page. The position he was sat in comfortable, you and Damian had fallen asleep on him and now he was stuck between the two of you.

A week had passed since that night and the three of you hid the capybara — “Jason Jr” you had decided much to Damian’s disappointment — hidden from Bruce. Your other siblings pitching in after they found out.

One morning you were all sitting at the dinning table, a rare occurrence considering your family. The room was quiet while Bruce eyed you and Damian.

“So. Either of you want to explain this?” He asks, pointing at Alfred, who’s carrying your capybara.

You and Damian share a glance before you offer Bruce a sheepish smile. “It’s a long story?”

“We have time,” Bruce says leaning back in his seat.

There was no story, truthfully you just saw it and thought it was cute, but that didn’t stop you from fabricating a lie.

#I put zero effort into this #I’m sorry #bruce wayne x daughter!reader #batsis reader #batsis x batfam #enzo writes [📝]

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beskarandblasters · 5 months

Text

Good Girls Are Quiet

aka riding the hilt of Din’s vibro-blade like there’s no tomorrow

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Main Masterlist | Din Djarin Masterlist

Author’s note: I just want to preface this by saying this is filthy. That is all.

Summary: At the Outlander Club on Coruscant, you try to help Din capture a bounty. But when the bounty makes a move what on belongs to Din, that just won’t do. Din takes you a sleazy motel after and shows you just who you belong to.

Word count: 2.1k

Warnings: reader is able-bodied, canon divergent (long live the Razor Crest), takes place when Din is an apostate, bounty gets handsy with you, possessive!Din, light canon typical violence, brat taming, reader gets “punished”, rough oral sex (M receiving), slapping, cum eating, nipple play, knife kink, riding the hilt of Din’s vibro-blade, daddy kink, helmet comes off, spitting, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, use of Mando’a words (cyar’ika = sweetheart), pet names (good girl), no use of y/n

The loud music in the Outlander Club vibrates your entire body, and the smoke hanging in the air fills your lungs. Kriff, this sucks. But it was your idea to help Din distract this bounty. You’re wearing a scantily clad dress, moving through the crowd, and scanning the room for your target; a human male named Colo. You took a good look at his bounty poster before heading inside the club but you’re still going to have to be vigilant. This place is packed and he could easily slip away without you or Din noticing.

Din’s hanging out off towards the wall to not draw too much attention to himself. He tends to do that everywhere he goes so that’s why you offered to help. And just as your eyes land on the bar, you spot Colo, sitting alone and sipping on revnog.

Now you can set your plan into motion. It’s time to flirt.

You walk up beside him, resting an elbow on the bar and looking around with wide eyes like you’re lost or something. He notices you out of the corner of his eye and turns towards you.

“You come here often?” he asks, mouth curling into a smirk.

“No,” you say, making your voice a higher pitch, “What about you?”

“I’m a regular, baby. How about I buy you a drink and show you what’s good?

“I think I have an idea about what’s good here,” you wink, internally cringing at yourself.

Maker, please be over soon.

“Oh, really?” he says, picking up what you’re unfortunately putting down.

He leans forward and rests his hand on your hip, slowly inching towards your ass and squeezing it.

“How about you tell me what that is?”

You open your mouth to respond but before you can, Colo is against the bar with Din pressing his vibro-blade against his neck. It all happened in a blur. The second the hand cupped your ass Din was on the move.

“Hands off,” he growls.

But before the fight progresses any further the bartender shouts, “Take that outside! Now!”

You’re frozen, unsure of what to do next until Din grabs your hand and physically drags you out of there. You still can’t grasp how fast all of that happened, keeping your eyes averted to the floor to avoid the stares of the club-goers before stepping outside.

And now here you are, silently walking the streets of the lower levels. You know Din is fuming underneath his helmet but… What does he have to be mad at you for? You were just trying to help.

“Din?” you say softly, looking up at him. The neon lights reflect off his armor and you can’t deny he looks sexy right now, especially when he’s mad. You looove to get under his skin even more. You know he likes it when you act like a brat. He can deny it all he wants but you know it’s true.

He doesn’t answer you so you continue.

“I don’t get why you’re mad. I was just trying to help,” you say matter-of-factly, folding your arms and pushing your breasts together. They threaten to spill over the low-cut neckline of your dress. And that’s when he can’t take it anymore. He grabs your hand again and drags you down the street, but he’s going in the opposite direction of the docking yard where the Razor Crest is parked.

“Where are we going?” you ask, glancing over your shoulder at the direction you should be going.

“To teach you a lesson,” he growls, stopping at what looks like a motel, a sleazy one at that. The neon sign is broken, only a few letters lit and one of them flickering. You can’t even read what it says. He pulls you by the hand inside, and the interior is even more abysmal than the exterior. Seedy characters lurk in the shadows of the lobby, staring at you and Din while he drags you to the front desk. You’re so stunned by his actions. Din never does stuff like this. He prefers to sleep in the comfort of the Crest where he’s in control of his surroundings. Not left at the mercy of whatever goes on at night in this sleazy motel.

You don’t question it when he gets a room for tonight, anxious to see where the night takes you.

“Room one hundred and three. Down the hallway on your right.”

He takes the room key from the front desk worker and heads down the hallway, the lights flickering above you. He stops at a door, unlocks it, and shoves you inside. As soon as the door is closed he presses you up against it, bringing his helmet by your ear.

“Do you know why you need to be punished?” he growls, a hand sliding up your waist.

“...No.”

“Really?” he says with a low chuckle, “Maybe I need to help you remember.”

He grabs you by the waist and drags you over to the bed, setting you down on the edge. He stands in front of you, the bulge in his flight suit directly in your face. He grabs your chin, angles your face up towards his visor, and says, “Now, cyar’ika. Tell me why you’re getting punished.”

You try to look at the bulge that’s so close to your face by moving your head slightly. But he grips your chin tighter and teases you, “Nope. Eyes up here, slut.”

“For… for flirting with that guy at the club.”

“That’s right. I think you need to be reminded about who you belong to.”

You gulp and the hand not holding your chin pulls his cock free from his flight suit.

“Be a good girl and suck my cock,” he says, pulling you towards his groin. You open your mouth wide and keep your tongue flat, taking his length in your mouth. He thrusts back into you, forcing his cock down your through as far as it’ll go. Tears spring in the corners of your eyes but you keep going, trying your best to be a good girl for him. His hands move to either side of your face as you bob your head up and down.

You look up at him and his visor is fixed on you, watching his cock moving in and out of your mouth.

“You like sucking daddy’s cock?” he says, slapping you across the face.

You moan in response, sending vibrations down his length. He curses under his breath and slams into you harder. Just when you think you can’t take it anymore he cums down the back of your throat, holding your head flush against his groin.

“Take all of daddy’s cum like a good girl,” he commands, wiping away a tear on your cheek.

He finally releases your head and you catch your breath. Wiping away the cum leaking from your lips you ask, “My turn?”

“Not quite,” he teases, reaching forward and pulling the comforter off the bed. You watch as he grabs his vibro-blade from his boot, activating it and plunging it through the mattress. You let out a gasp, in shock that he just ruined this motel’s mattress.

“Din, what did you-”

“You can sit on that,” he says sternly.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

You look at the blade vibrating inside the mattress and gulp before stripping your clothes and getting on the bed. You straddle the hilt of the vibro-blade, hovering over it. He moves behind you, reaching forward and cupping his hand under your mouth.

“Spit,” he commands.

You do as you’re told, spitting into the palm of the glove. He rubs your saliva on the hilt, lubricating it for you to sit on. You take a deep breath and lower yourself on it, feeling the vibrations throughout your core.

“Fuck yourself on it,” he says, hand returning to your chin.

You rock your hips back and forth, just as Din’s other hand caresses the outline of your breast. He pinches your nipple between his fingertips eliciting a loud moan from you. The hand on your chin clamps down on your mouth.

“Good girls are quiet,” he reminds you.

You nod and let out a soft whimper, continue to fuck yourself on the hilt.

“You have to cum on this first. Show me you’re worthy of daddy’s cock,” he continues, growling directly in your ear. He releases your mouth to take off his helmet and set it on the bed. He grabs your chin and angles your head up to face him. You catch a glimpse of him, his curls matted and his skin glistening with a layer of sweat. There’s a truly dark and primal look in his eye, watching as you writhe against him.

“Open,” he commands.

You open wide and stick your tongue out, just as he spits directly into your mouth. Just for him to clamp it shut again and return his hand over it, making you stay quiet.

With one last grind of your hips, the hilt is buried even deeper into you, and you can’t hold on any longer. You whimper against his gloved hand, trying to signal you’re gonna cum soon. You’re worried that if you don’t ask for permission somehow he’ll deny you your release.

“Gonna cum?” he says, amusement in his voice.

You whimper some more and nod incessantly.

“Soak it.”

You cum around the hilt, your walls fluttering around the vibrating metal. You feel your wetness seep out of you, running down your thighs and onto the sheets.

“That’s a good girl,” he praises, slowly releasing your nipple from his fingertips. He removes his hand from your mouth and pushes you forward so you’re on your hands and knees. The hilt slips out of you as you stick your ass up in the air for him, getting ready to take his cock.

Din hooks his hands on your hips, aligning himself with your soaking wet cunt. He thrusts into you in one clean motion, cursing under his breath before pounding into you unforgivingly.

“Who do you belong to?”

“You,” you moan out.

“Who?”

“I belong to you, daddy!” you cry out.

“Good girl, that’s right. Daddy owns this cunt, huh?”

“Yes, daddy. It’s all yours!” you cry out again, just as he slams into you with the most force he’s used so far. You cum around his cock, pulling his own orgasm from him. He cums inside you with his cock pressed right up against your cervix, letting out a guttural moan. He pulls out of you when he’s done and you fall forward, collapsing onto the bed. The vibro-blade is still impaled in the mattress. He pulls it out and deactivates it, leaning forward and hovering over you.

“Do you understand why you were punished now?”

“Yes, daddy,” you sigh.

“You had a big night, mesh’la. Get some rest,” he says softly, lying down beside you and rubbing your back.

Just before sleep overtakes you, you whisper, “I don’t know… Maybe I need to act up again.”

“Oh there’s no maybe,” he chuckles, “You’ll act up again. But that just means I have to keep reminding you that you’re mine.”

“Sounds good to me,” you whisper, drifting off to sleep under Din’s touch.

You wake up the next morning and get ready to check out of the motel room, weirdly missing it already. But just as you turn to leave the building, one of the housekeeping employees stops Din.

“Sir?”

Oh, this is definitely about the mattress.

You both turn around to face the worker, an older woman who seems nice enough. She continues, “I don’t want to know how exactly the mattress was damaged. But we can’t let you leave until you pay a fee.”

“Okay…” Din says awkwardly.

She leads you to the front desk and lets the employee stationed there handle the transaction. The woman whispers something in the other employee’s ear. You can only catch bits and pieces of what she said but definitely something about a weird stain on the mattress by the puncture mark. You look over at Din, who's staring directly at you. You’re sure he’s shooting daggers with his eyes under the helmet. Yeah, you’re definitely not coming back here again.

The woman sets off down the hallway to finish cleaning the mess you and Din made, just as the front desk employee says, “That’ll be six hundred credits.”

Six hundred credits.

Din grabs credits from his pocket and hastily sets them on the counter before grabbing your hand and dragging you out of the motel.

As soon as you’re back out on the street he says, “See what happens when you act up?”

“You’re the one who stabbed the bed,” you say, folding your arms.

“You're going to end up costing me a fortune,” he sighs.

“Don’t act like you don’t love it,” you tease.

He doesn’t deny it, of course.

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#din djarin x reader #din djarin smut #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin one shot #din djarin x fem!reader #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x you #brat tamer!din #tw daddy kink #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian #star wars fanfiction #starwarsficnetwork #pedrostories

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dominantslasherking · 9 days

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Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen With Dominant Male S/o

My Stories are meant for the much more mature audience, 18+

Backstory: Your basically a mysterious male figure that happens to be around the bene gesserit, (whom not even they could control you) Feyd is obsessed with you, a deep longing inside his soul, his body.

In the dimly lit corridors of the Harkonnen fortress, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen prowled around like a predator his eyes snapping towards the guards whom he gave a lean smile to, showing off his blackened teeth that almost resembled blood stained on his teeth but a dusky nightly color.

Feyd's eyes beam down on one particular figure, "You." Feyd hissed out, his shirtless body walking towards you carefully, his pale skin contrasting nicely with the seemingly smoothness of it.

"You." he once again repeated his voice a low, dangerous whisper that sent shivers down anyone's spine. Your eyes carefully dawned onto him, your stoic face slowly speaking. "Yes?" With a steady voice.

Feyd's eyes seemed to dim even more on your figure taking in your all-black clothing, he looked around you to see if any of those annoying bene gesserit witches were around you, he saw none.

Once his eyes reverted back to you, he finally looked you in the eyes. With a wicked a monstrous smirk on his face he spoke "You intrigue me." His husky voice slowly lulled out in a confession. his eyes gleamed with a mix of fascination and possessiveness.

Not only sensing and seeing the intensity of his gaze you spoke, "And, is there something you desire?" You spoke, your eyes trained on his shirtless body, the skin that you wanted to caress and trail kisses upon, why else would you stay on this morbid looking planet for so long?

Feyd stirred back from your words, he found himself consumed by a relentless obsession that no amount of power or manipulation could quell, he craved to be yours, for you to whisper sweet nothingness into his ear, but he was disgusted with himself, how can something like him, so strong, think of these pathetic little thoughts and desires, that rocked his body like a steaming fire that wouldn't relent.

"I can't seem to get you out of my mind," he uttered preparing his blade as he attacked you. With a quick dodge, and move of your hand you wrapped your arms around Feyd's waist, your tall stature, leaning down slightly to place your lips onto his neck, tasting his skin.

A raspy and heavy breath escaped Feyd, his body tried to submit to your will, Feyds body wanted to, as he couldn't help but let out a groan, as you started to kiss on his neck.

"And why is that?" You asked slowly, responding to what he once said before he attacked you, your other hand slowly made it way to his neck, not to choke harshly but almost in a sensual way.

"Because you challenge me," he admitted, his voice raw with hatred spewing on his tongue. "Because you see through the façade I present to the world, you are caved into my mind, and you won't leave." He growled out, pushing you away, as he smashed his oh so soft lips against yours.

"I see you, Feyd," You said, voice gentle yet firm. "And perhaps... that's why you can't look away." Teasing tone, as Feyd nearly whined, mewled against your touch, he wanted you to break him, ravage him apart.

"Perhaps," he murmured in between another harsh kiss, his voice barely audible over the din of the bustling fortress.

#dune part 2 #slasher x male reader #feyd rautha #feyd x reader #feyd rautha harkonnen #yandere feyd rautha harkonnen #obsession #obsessed feyd rautha #feyd rautha x male reader #feyd x you #house harkonnen #feyd rautha harkonnen x male reader #slasher x reader

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