#dev patel smut

[spikershoyo]

why do they look the same

[royalsunshinehotel]

How Can I? (The Kid x Reader, 18+)

Author's Note: Inspired by Taylor Swift's "Guilty As Sin?" from an inbox request. Thank you to my intrepid editor, and dearest friend @youlooklike-clarabow. You're the best ❤️‍🔥😭🤠🍊

The forest had welcomed him back, just like he’d hoped. Four months after Kid had taken his revenge, it had welcomed him home, as if it missed him, and it had taken him back, and taken in the hijras, as if all of you had always been there. Beating Rana to death had brought Kid back to life. He hoped that you and Sita felt the same. 

Sita had been focused on farming the land, showing off her green thumb after years away from any kind of dirt, and Alpha, it felt, had retired. She had a rocking chair and would look over the makeshift village, from dawn until dusk, every single day. 

And then there was you. Your hand was the one Sita reached for when she ran out to the back alley of Kings. Covered in blood, but together through it all. He had saved your life, rescued the two of you from the Queenie’s black stiletto heels standing on your necks, forcing you to do things you didn’t want to do. He should leave you alone, he shouldn’t want you the way that he does. 

When was the last time he’d had such a luxury? He laid on his sleeping mat, bored bored bored, deep in his bones. 

He hadn’t realized exactly how mentally caged he had been, but now he was free. What was left to do? 

He’d learned about how you longed to throw yourself to the ocean rocks for the chance at freedom, and how grateful you were for him coming to break all of the locks with a chaotic flair. 

He wanted you to be his- from the first moment he laid eyes on you. It was a difficult thing to admit. He’d have wonderful - shockingly vivid dreams about a world where your attachment was written everywhere on you, walking into a room and people know your his. The same for him of course, he’d want everyone to know he’s yours.��

But why on earth would you agree to it? You’d been a bird in a horrible, dank little cage, why would you toss yourself to the likes of him, after all you’d been subjected to? 

Such thoughts could live in dreams, he supposed. 

Across the camp, you're in the branches of a banyan tree, sitting snugly, safely in its branches. You kick your feet, and bob a little, hoping to shake some fruit loose, but alas, the figs aren't ripe yet. Maybe some more sun the next week would do it. What a treat that would be! 

You enjoy seeing the whole camp from up high. Deep in the heart of the woods, you’re all here, together. 

It was remarkable, you think, how you had all been able to come together and make a home. It would be a true village with more time, but the fact that everyone from the temple, plus those left standing after King’s, all had their own shelter, and were working together for food and water…it was remarkable. 

You flash in your mind, on Kid, watching him a little too closely as he weaved some smaller branches to make a door. 

His arms were lovely, even to a strange woman in a fig tree. A flash of heat hits your face, as you imagine those arms around you. In dreams you’d been having, you take a fistful of dense, curly hair, and pull. Would he like it? Would he tell you to fuck off? 

You kick yourself, and then you kick yourself for kicking yourself. Just a passing thought of his arms, and you were practically panting in the early summer heat. 

Sitting up in your tree, you thought of all the men you allowed to touch you, how you faked smiles and orgasms like it was nothing. And then he’d just come bowling into your life with the spark of a firework, letting you know it didn’t have to be like that anymore. 

Even if you did put your hands on him, touch him in the ways you wished to, would you know how? Would you know how to feel for him? 

In your mind, you’d already felt all of him, to your heart's content and beyond…

Sita had said no one would send you to jail for your thoughts, but it certainly felt that way. You hadn’t even touched him - where did all this guilt come from? Did you really need to keep your longing for Kid locked in a vault? 

Queenie had locked passport, your money, everything you were, into a vault -  he was far too kind to be put in there. 

Still, you did intend to be loyal to him, even if it was entirely one sided.  You spoke to him only when necessary, and would continue to do so until this burning itch underneath your skin - ur desire, faded. It had to, right? 

“Kanna, come here please!” called Alpha, voice clear and smooth, summoning you down from your perch, and you oblige her, moving slowly. 

You trot over, feet feeling heavy on the grass, “Yes, Alpha?” 

She takes your hand, and you link your fingers, admiring the manicure Sita had given her earlier that week. 

“You fantasize. I can see it from down here.” 

“I’m not sure what you're saying.” 

“Your fantasies are no longer fatal, and neither are Kid’s. He’s free of the past, still, he does not sleep. You should perhaps see if he is alright?”

As if on cue, a groan floats through the air, towards the two of you. 

“And do what?” 

“Make sure that his past stays gone?” She suggests, not verbalizing what she’d observed these past months. 

Your brow furrows. Kid would have to settle for a cup of water, and a bite of tangerine before settling back to sleep. That’s what your mother always gave you for your nightmares, why wouldn’t it work here? 

You make the quick journey, waving goodnight to Alpha, but stalling at the door of Kid’s hut. 

Another low groan. 

If it had been daylight, you would have had it in yourself to admit to the fluttering in your belly, but you wouldn’t. The desire would subside, for now you have to see if he’s well. The light of the moon makes your path clear. 

You take a breath, before opening the door. 

It’s night. It’s dark - the moon only gets you so far. 

And yet, you still find him, in the corner, on his sleeping mat, flat on his back. A low, almost imperceptible whine reaches your ears, and you furrow your brow. That didn’t seem like a nightmare, was he sick? 

You crouch down next to his sleeping body, and place a cool hand on his forehead, just to feel him. 

It wasn’t in Kid’s nature to feel casual annoyance, but if he could have, he would have been. In the midst of a wonderful dream, inspired by a bead of sweat he saw glistening in the hollow of your clavicle that morning, he was now dreaming about you - again, same as every night. 

In his dreams, you fall apart under his palms, scratching desperately at his back, and you beg for more. In his dreams, you're a desperate, sweet little thing, not much different from him. Another self-indulgence, thinking of a world where you want him as badly as he wants you. 

He jerks awake - where have you gone? He feels movement right beside him, and reflexively grabs it, a tight grip on your wrist.

“Jaanu, come back to bed.” His eyes are wide, still asleep in his mind. You crouched beside him, stunned at his words.

Alpha had said he was having a nightmare. He was neither sick, nor having a nightmare…

He was dreaming! About the two of you! 

Heat rushes to your face, like a paintbrush in water. 

“Back to…” You pause, “Yes, I’ll come back to bed.” Kid grunts at you, not giving your wrist back.  

He’s still in his own head, he doesn’t realize that you’re truly here. 

You allow him to pull you in, sighing as he tucks you into his side. 

God, he felt better than you imagined. 

You hold on to him, as his breathing slows, and you run your hands over a warm, flat stomach, tracing hearts there, for hours and hours. 

You wake slowly, for the first time in years. A light brushing of warmth against your cheek. You crinkle your nose, slowly blinking, and remembering where exactly you were. 

Your head is resting on his arm, his hand on your waist, in real life. 

He’s looking over at you, brown eyes round, his mouth just inches away from yours. Over the past few months, his beard had gotten unruly, you slowly place a hand under his chin, to pet the new growth. 

“Are you really here?” He rasps, voice soft with sleep, you let out a little sigh of relief. 

“Yes, I didn’t want to wake you, Alpha was worried, and you grabbed my wrist so I just…stayed.” You explained, trying not to seem flustered. 

“You're here, not just in my dreams.” He practically whispered, bringing up a palm to your cheek, same as you had for him. It had taken a couple of weeks to hear from Alpha about why Kid’s hands were the way they were. Kid had learned to live with the fact that his roots had been burned away, but as his hand touched your face, it certainly didn’t feel like that. 

You think about his lovely hands. Regardless of any fire, any destruction they may have wrought, any scar tissue that grew there had only served to free you and the women at King’s. You like his hands. 

“I want to kiss you. Can I?” Your voice shook, but you said those words anyway. You should be proud of yourself. 

Kid nods his head, letting you inch forward, brushing your noses together. Something in his stomach flips, and you brush your mouth against his. Soft, almost delicate, the same way a leaf meets the ground in the fall. 

Oh - you think. 

You kissed him, like you had been longing, dreaming of doing, and nothing horrible happened! The stars were still in the sky, the rivers were still running, the trees still stood tall, protecting your village…

“I want you. Do you feel the same?” You ask him again, not sure where this confidence had come from. Maybe it was the fact that you were here, and so close to what you had wanted…

“I only sleep because it’s where I might find you.” Something goes plink in your heart, and you decide enough is enough. 

“Well wake up,” you tease, “I’m right here.” 

Something flashes across Kid’s face, and he pulls you back in. It’s hard not to fold completely as he rolls you carefully on to your back, he just feels too good. Even with the low light coming into the hut, it felt as if Kid had been drizzled in gold. 

“I want more,” you command between kisses, his beard tickling your face. 

“We have to be quiet,” he responds, clearly getting distracted. You had to get him out of his own head. It was ridiculous, someone with a past as checkered as his. He wanted to be with you always, be something you could crush under the heel of your boot if it pleased you. He only wants to please you. And now that he is getting the chance, he does exactly that. 

He works his way down, ignoring the sticky summer heat, until he settles comfortably between your legs. 

How lovely! How comfortable it was to lie here with you. Your body under his felt so surreal, soft and comfortable. Your hands on his shoulders. 

When he has the time, he decides that he’s going to put each one of your fingers in his mouth, just for the sake of feeling every part of you. 

How strange, how new it was! The desire to feel all of someone; to lay here on top of you and hope gravity might keep him here as long as possible. 

He says nothing and hums into your soft thighs, stray hand wandering to push your cotton shift up slowly, higher and higher. You love him for that -  that he’s giving you so much time to stop him, to call it all off, but you don’t. 

Kid runs a rough palm over your heat, and begins to shake at the contact. 

“May I?” He asks, polite as ever. 

You reply, a simple “Yes.” 

Gently, slowly, Kid nudges your legs apart, smiling, before taking an experimental taste. 

It was embarrassing how you jerked into him, like an electric shock. 

Something darkened across his face, that set your hair on end in the best way, and he dove in headfirst. 

He flicks his tongue on your clit, chuckling against you as you twitch under the attention, “Do you like that?” He asks, and you nod, losing your thoughts. 

Your heart leaps to your throat as the rough pad of his thumb meets your clit, rubbing a heart shape. 

“Answer me!” He urges, growly, and it makes you want to smack him. 

“Yes!” You squeak, a little too loudly, sitting up on your elbows. Kid stifles a laugh behind his hand as he rests a palm on your stomach to soothe you. He didn’t know you as one to squeak! You pout, just because you can, and he grins at you, leaning up for a kiss to your pouty mouth. 

“Poor birdy,” he coos, “we should go deeper into the woods, where we can be as loud as we like.” 

The thought makes your hair stand on end, being truly alone, together. The tantalizing thought fades as he ducks his face back down, into you. As he works, spreading the warmth of his mouth over you, it was hard to remember why you ‘had to be quiet’. How would that be possible? Flicking his tongue, you twitch again, relishing the attention he was giving so freely.

“Would you like more?” He hums, vibrations tearing right through you. 

“Y-yesyesyes, more please.” His rough palms roam over you at a leisurely pace, his mouth back to your clit. You should be quiet, you try so hard to be quiet, but Kid’s sucking and slurping unnerves you. You can’t control yourself for long. 

You want to beg him to grab you harder, like you might float away if he doesn’t, but you just can’t find words beyond, “Want you…” 

“Do you promise?” Kid murmured into your leg, tugging the soft flesh there lightly with his teeth, “I don’t want to pressure you.” Please please please, he thinks. 

“I promise,” you pant, pussy still fluttering, “Wanted you since I first saw you…” Your voice dies off, as he comes up to kiss you on the mouth, like he missed you. 

“I was covered in blood.” 

“A few more days and you could be again.” You freeze at your own words. Queenie always kept the girls on lockdown when it was that time. Kid was different. 

“Don’t tempt me, jaanu. I should keep you in my arms until then.” It’s a threat. It’s a promise. It’s everything you’ve been dreaming about for months…

But the idea of Kid with your monthly blood on his face was something else entirely…

Your thoughts are cut off again, but Kid takes your hand, resting it above your stomach. Your fingers intertwine, naturally. 

“Can I get you ready for me?” 

“Do it.” Your voice is firm, and certain, and he absolutely adores you for it. 

The look on your face through the rising light makes his hair stand on end. 

Your eyes flutter shut as Kid traces your needy hole with his fingers. How could you have known that he’d be so gentle with you? What exactly had you been making yourself feel bad about? 

You bite down a moan as he works one finger in, slowly, letting you feel every ridge, relishing as you try to squirm closer to his hand. 

No. 

You’ll take what he gives when he gives it, he thinks but then he revises, You will get everything he had, but not quite yet. 

He pauses, letting you get used to his digit, only starting to move when you pant. You're too stiff, he doesn’t like that. He doesn’t want it to be like before, he wants it to be better. 

It’s hard not to melt, so you allow yourself the pleasure. 

Who was he really? Did it even matter? 

“Alright, Jannu?” He asks, and you take a grip on his shoulder, nodding ‘yes.’ 

And then, he starts to move. 

It had been years since someone’s hands had worked you so thoroughly, and you simply had to enjoy it. He simply had to pull you closer, with his two fingers, other hand palming your breasts, to your thrill, in a less gentle manner than the rest of you. 

He was simply petting you, playing with you, of course you had to purr. You couldn’t imagine anything else. Everything in your life has led you here, with him, to be underneath him. 

“Shh. Just hold on for me.” 

Faster and faster and faster, and then. Nothing. 

Kid takes his hand from you, and you whip your head up, face ravenous. 

All he offers you is a “Sorry, not yet.” You should slap him, but the emptiness he’d left turned into an ache. How could he do this? Even for a moment? 

You whine, and Kid thinks he might die if he doesn’t fuck you how you deserve. 

“It’s alright, I’m here. I’ll make it better, hm?” Your lover shifts above you, and you feel his cock nudging at your folds. The giddiness of it all goes straight to your head. 

“Need you!” You are keen, rolling your hips into him, hoping to catch something, anything to grant relief. But the only thing that could help is him. 

“Slowly, not too much now.” He cautions, but you can't. You simply can’t. Months of dreaming, waiting, lusting, handling the overwhelming guilt you didn’t ask for? No more waiting.

You pant, and he greedily breathes in your air, inching into you, measured and careful. 

No. No more. 

You take a cruel grip on his ass, and pull him down into you, losing yourself for either a moment or an hour. 

He pants, sounding desperate to keep himself together. Maybe that wasn’t the wisest move, maybe he’d been going sooooo slooow for his sake as much as yours…

Kid is seated completely inside you, running his rough palm over the bulge he was making in your lower tummy. How quickly a life can change, he thinks, he was asleep, and now he’s here, above you, feeling exactly how deep he can fit inside you. 

Your vision had gone white at the edges, he just felt too correct. Perhaps you should keep him hostage here, always. Kid lets out a low whine, pathetic and beautiful, and you feel your skin buzz so loud, you're certain he could hear it. 

He has to move. Or you might die. 

But carefully, he rolls into you, making you dig into him. He catches your wanton moan in his mouth, trying to soothe you in spite of his actions. Your words are gone…

“Good girl, do you like that?” He asks, as if you could respond, “Do you want more?” 

You nod your head, drunkenly, and he snaps down again. You grip him even tighter, and he puts his mouth back on yours. 

It’s just too desperate, does he know how badly you need him?  

“Harder! Harder please.” You beg, eyes round and unfocused on anything other than the harsh pleasure he was giving you. 

“More more more!”

Kid goes after your breasts, teasing with his hot mouth, bringing you closer with each shallow breath he takes. 

You stifle a wail in his shoulder, fighting desperately. As soon as you bare down around him, it’s over. You don’t want to be over…

Kid seems to know this, watching you intently, same as always. You fight off your orgasm, defiant and determined, fluttering tightly around him, the least he could do is do the same. 

But it’s simply too much, you knew you were going to scream. You couldn’t, it was too early, everyone would know. 

You run a hand up the side of his face, catching his beard, feeling hair stuck to his forehead from the humidity. His eyes blank, absolutely lost in the throes of you, your squelching and whines burned into his bones forever. 

He holds you as you scrabble at his back, eyes rolling, not losing his pace for a moment, only gasping into your ear as you finally clench down, fluttering around him, only coming back to reality when your teeth meet his chest and bite down, muffling the sound. 

Your teeth meeting his flesh, makes him lose his composure. He moans beautifully in your ear, your teeth still in his chest, reflexively gripping you harder as he spills deep inside. You kick your legs up higher around his torso, so you could keep him trapped against you. 

Kid pants into your mouth, murmuring all the sweet things he’d been keeping to himself. He’s free now, you both are. 

But still, neither of you move, holding on to each other, and it must be heaven. 

Someone has to move first. He should start some tea for you. He should start to show you how he was ready for the rest of his life now, with you. 

But it’s not to be, the second Kid pulls out, you kick his rear with the heel of your ankle. All of your shared mess seeps out of your worn out body. Not yet. He’s too far away. It couldn’t be over yet…That’s not allowed, you decide. 

“No. Put it back.” You command. 

Kid has the nerve to bat his eyes at you, and obliges, face flashing with something you couldn’t place. 

He holds you tight, and the two of you let the quiet soak in from the window. With you here, it wasn’t a hut, but a proper house. 

His heart is about to beat out of his chest, the sheer weight of your eyes on his, it feels like an honor to be here with you. 

The evidence of your rendezvous was hot and sticky between your legs. Kid was surprised that there seemed to be so much, and he didn’t mind one bit. Maybe he could take you down to the river to clean up, and care for you properly. Maybe the two of you wouldn’t be missed. 

You close your eyes, and something flips in the Kid's chest. 

“What is it you want?” He asks, forehead pressed against yours, “Ask for the moon and I’ll pull it down for you.” You squirm under the intensity of his stare, he was simply too beautiful and overwhelming. 

“I choose you and me.” 

“You can have it.” He gives you a peck, smiling into you, but quickly furrowing into concern. .

“Wait Jannu, it’s alright, what’s happened?” You stifle a small sob at the overwhelming softness of his tone. 

The fist around your heart clenches, as you feel a wet trail down your face, to your jaw. 

When was the last time you were allowed to cry? 

You huff a little, to yourself, and bring him in for another sweet kiss, languid and comfortable. He brings the pads of his thumbs under your eyes, clearing the tears away.  You take a fistful of his hair, and bring him in close, limbs intertwined, safe together. 

“I’m happy. I’m so very happy.” And you cry a little more, because it’s true. 

[sodacatz]

I had to come back from the dead to talk ab monkey man n how I need sum dev patel or monkey man fanfictions

[stargirlfics]

hello there. fellow dev patel simp here. this man as well as your blurbs for this man have me in a chokehold htiwoskkdjd 😔

did you know dev means 'god' or in some contexts 'king' and just imagine moaning his name right into his ear like that and his thrusts just becoming faster and sloppiest bc yeah...aint no need to say oh god when you can just say oh dev

Howdy Dev Patel nation!!!

I did not know that about his name and I…oh my 😵‍💫 thank you for that image, it’s giving praise kink and I’m so here for it, the immediate and obvious reaction he has to his name being chanted like you’re worshiping him and all your added pretty little cries and moans in between words, whewww

Dev would love knowing he’s giving it to you that good and it makes him lose himself in it all too which is what you wanted, your bodies all sticky and colliding with the most lewd sounds and it’s all just fuel for you both, a sign of how much you both need this right now and you’re begging him to keep going 🥵

Him telling you to “say it again” / “ask me nicely, love. just like that, yes” / “use your words” and meanwhile you can barely think coherent thoughts with how full of him you feel, and mind you, every thrust notches him deeper, but the one word you do know and cling to is his name and it’s the hottest thing to him

Yess this is so good, I appreciate you thirsting with me, friend!

[thesecretcornerintheroom]

My Memories…

(Don’t forget about me part 2)

Pairing: Kid x Black female reader

Warnings: Rated R for sure 18+,Angst,Grinding,penetration ,

Word count: 2,101

The plot: Y/N goes to do research and meets someone from the past

Will you relax? I’ll be a town over just researching. I’m making a breakthrough in research; I need a change of scenery. If you need me, call me,” I said. “Come here, my love,” my sister said to my baby as she grabbed her chubby tiny frame from my arms with a voice of admiration. “Mommy better not run off and come back pregnant without at least a warning this time.” she adjusted her gaze to me as she spoke normally. It’s been years since you came back from India. I can’t believe our baby is 3,” said my sister lovingly as she looked down at my sleeping daughter Iris she was fast asleep I admired her expresso complexion that shined in the sun and her kinky curls black like mine almond eyes were resting but reminded me so much of her father. I looked up at my sister and kissed her on the cheek. “ I’ll be back; call me if you need me.”

As I drove away, feeling like I had forgotten something, I made a mental checklist: soap, clothes, face wash, computer, phone—dammit, my charger—I said as I decided to go home to grab it.

I ran to my bedroom to get my charger, which was still plugged into the wall. As I grabbed it, I noticed my room looked off. Everything was in place, but my stand didn’t. My perfume bottle was open. I never leave that one open, and I haven’t worn that one in years. Shaking the feeling off, I started to walk down the steps. I caught something in the corner of my eye, like a figure of a person. I know that frame too well. It’s engraved in my memory. No, no, I thought it couldn’t be. I Always think about him and where he might be, my imagination swirling in my head again.

I went to go to the door. “ Do you not see me?” he said in that voice. I knew it all too well. It was deep and welcoming. I froze, my heart thumping in my chest, and I turned on my heels slowly as I walked to my kitchen. I saw him. He looked the same but different. He looked more confident and strong. His body was tense and rigid; his curls fell into his face cause they were longer, and his beard fuller. I didn’t know what to feel: happiness, sadness, anger. MY baby, his baby… our baby just turned three, and I thought he was dead. I’ve seen the news about the rise of retaliation in India. I knew someone with a bitter taste in his mouth for the pegging system would cause me, and I knew deep down it was him. “I thought you were dead,” I said, clenching my charger, my voice tight. “going somewhere,” he said, his voice soft, his eyes glossy. His heart was still gentle, but his spirit was stronger.

“How? my voice cracked. I stepped closer and felt tears form in my eyes. “How? Why? Did you find me?” I told him as I placed the charger on my dining room table. “ I said I would,” he said, not moving, only letting me come to him. He had a sense of confidence he didn’t have when I left India. His eyes were glistening with admiration, causing me to burn inside. I could feel my chest become tighter as I held back tears, my legs becoming weaker as I walked to him. I felt myself cracking. Letting out a sob, all I could do was run to him, crashing into his body. His arms wrapped around me so firmly that he felt at home. I Let out a loud cry. I wrapped my body around him, embracing his body, and my arms wrapped around his shoulders. I smelled a powdery, sweet smell. He had on my perfume. “I took a shower before you came. I tried not to touch much; is that okay?” I shook my head yes. I was lost for words. He places me back on the ground and looks at my charger on the table with my car keys. “Going somewhere”

I can’t believe she’s three said Dev, looking down at my phone and swiping through all the photos of her. “Iris,” he said, the name sounding strange but familiar rolling off his tounge. He looked at me. We were now in the hotel room. I bought everything but the room felt off it felt unreal. He Didn’t seem real the room, him.“Can we talk?” I said abruptly. I could feel my body stiffen, and the emotions of anger and sadness climbed out as I stepped out of my hotel room. “You are fine, and I’m glad, but kid. That’s our baby. She means more to me than anything. If you come here and leave me, you hurt us or hurt yourself,” I said, my voice In pain tightening from the thought. “I wouldn’t do that,” Kid said, his voice soft, his eyes shining. “3 YEARS, I WAS SCARED, TERFFIED. I SAW WHAT HAPPENED ON THE TV, THE FIRE, THE BUILDINGS CRUMBLING. I THOUGHT YOU WERE GONE”. I yelled, the emotions escaping my body, and tears streamed down my hot cheeks. My vision blurred. “I WAITED FOR YOU BECAUSE YOU MADE A PROMISE TO ME, AND I KEPT IT, AND SHE WAS THE BEST THING I'VE DONE. " Word escaped me. My body was shaking. I was sobbing.

I put my hands above my head, catching my breath and trying to steady myself I began pacing around the room. Focusing on the quietness in the room the stillness. I spoke with a even tone, “You did it, you ended Shakti. Do you feel peace?” I said, turning back to look at him. Kid’s demeanor had changed. The man I knew looked speechless his shoulders were softened, brown eyes were now darkened, and tears were running down his face. He rosed from the bed. The room was silent, a deafening tone he spoke. “Not until now,” he bit out as he walked toward me. “I was unwell; a fire was in my heart. I defeated him, saved my country, saved myself,” he said, placing his hand on his chest.

“But I was still unwell, you, he said. You the thought of you in my bed providing me a warmth I can’t imagine and now my child, make me well.” His eyes were red, and tears fell from his face, his voice shaking. My eyes locked with his , and his eyes held so much sincerity. I grabbed the nape of his neck and brought him closer to me. His lips met mine. His were a little rougher, but his kiss was soft. He got me closer to him, grabbing my waist. I ran my hand through his hair, seeping into his body. He pulled away from me quickly, his eyes looking at me, confused and shocked. “All I wanted was a sorry,” I said, grinning.

I could draw him from Memory. That’s how much I thought of him as I lay in my bed looking at him asleep, his curly hair falling in his face, her beard more thick since I’d seen him. How I missed him. The man before me was different but the same, his frame stronger. His body seemed to be more calm. His eyes closed as he snored peacefully. My finger reached out to graze his cheek, feeling the pricking sensation of his stubble on my hand, causing me to gasp. This is real and not a dream. I caused him to stir in his sleep, grabbing my hand and pulling me into him. He wrapped his arms around my body. I could feel his heartbeat steady and calm. I let out a sigh as my eyes grew heavy, and I fell back into slumber.

When I woke, my back was pressed against. His shirtless chest back felt the warmth of my nightgown bunched up against my hips. I looked at the clock, realizing it was morning. We slept through the whole evening and night. Trying to move, I felt his grip tighten to pull me back into him; as I moved, I felt his member harden. He stirred in his sleep, moving his hips subconsciously. “Baby”, I said, waking up as gently as I could, turning my body to face him. Kid stirred in his sleep. His curls a mess, his eyes squinting as he looks at me, dazed and confused. “You were getting excited I said, looking down at the blanket. “Sorry”, he mumbled, his voice rumbling through his chest as he woke. His voice sent a chill down my spine. I scooted closer to him. “It’s okay.” I kissed his neck, missing how he felt under me; his body became rigid. My curly hair tickled his face as my kiss went from his neck down his chest. “I missed your hair brushing against my skin; I missed your lips, his voice dripped of honey as he spoke.

Uhh” a moan escaped his lips as I licked his nipple. My face was inching lower down his torso. I felt his hand, his warm, textured, scared Palm, run up my back to the nape of my neck, his fingers tangled in my curls as he pulled my head up, my eyes looking into his. “You have lived in my dreams for too long”.He brought me to his lips, his soft lips kissing me feverishly. A grunt fell from his lips. I kissed him back passionately, my head swirling. I moaned as my nightgown rose as his hand went around my hips; laying me on my back, his hands went under my nightgown; grabbing my hip, his hand kept to my knee as he lifted it, pressing my members so he started to move his clothed member against mine my body shudder as my clit brushed against the fabric the heat rose in my body I let out a gasp “ say you're sorry” he bit out as his hips moved in a fluid motion I could feel the wetness build up on his underwear as moans escaped my mouth my hand going to his shoulders as a concentrated as I moved my hips with his. I was confused as to why I needed to say sorry. I continued to moan. Kid looked at me, his eyes Piercing mine. His hips stopped, causing me to whine. Taking off my nightgown, my body was bare. “Say it, he said as he lowered his lips to my nipple, his breath fanning across my skin, causing me to shudder. “I’m sorry,” I said. “Why?” he grunted, his tongue sweeping across my nipple, causing me to yelp. His tongue circled my nipple and teased it slowly with his mouth. He moaned. My brain became hazy from the feelings. “I’m sorry for being angry” I said as I ground my cores against his leg desperately. “ I thought you had left me. I bit out,” feeling the wetness on my inner thigh. “Good enough,” he grunted out as he removed his boxers, his hands, and Grab my leg again as he raised it to wrap around his hip. He looked me in the eyes. He lowered his hips to me as he entered me, causing me to moan. I felt myself clinch around him getting use to the feeling of feeling full again, causing him to moan in my ear. My body was buzzing all over from pleasure, trying to adjust to the feeling of him aside me again, a moan only escaped my mouth as I slowly started to move my hips. He moved with every motion as I placed my arms around his shoulders. I could feel him inside of me, his warmth. I’m sorry he is going to die near my neck; I took so long he said as he moved his hips quicker. “I missed you”, he said, breathing, his hair sticking to his face. I could feel my stomach starting to tighten as he began to pick up his face faster. The witness started to build around him and me.

Moans was escaping our mouths, his eyes looking at mine as my mom escaped, and he began to go faster. Hitting the spot I needed the most, I was unraveling, and so was all the pain and regret I had. I’m sorry he grunted, now snapping faster. I began to tighten around him as my legs started to shake. My moans became shaken as I felt the pressure release, my wetness pooled around me, his breath quicking. I could feel him throbbing in me “fuck” he said as he pulled out and came on my stomach, the warmth hitting my skin. He fell beside me, his breath calming down with mine as my legs shook. “I forgive you” I whispered as I turned to look into his brown eyes.

[sodacatz]

He's so😍

Somebody needs to write sum smut ab him♡/j

DEV PATEL as THE KID

Monkey Man (2024) dir. Dev Patel

[lustagel]

ramble on, sweetheart ⊹ kid, monkey man light! nsfw content. black reader in mind but anyone can read. talks of trauma (his mothers death). kissing. him coded things. some modern au while others are set in the movie.

having kid as a boyfriend . . . would be so fulfilling but deathly worrying. he’s so attentive (just as you are to him), kind, giving, gentle, and heartfelt.

worships the ground you walk on. full hands and knees type worships.

he definitely uses those big eyes to his advantage whether he knows it or not. feel like you’ve told him about it but he continues to deny it.

saves up his money from the tournaments to not only get a gun but get you something. like a bracelet or something memorable.

greets you bloody, dripping with sweat and dirt with a closed mouth, tired smile on his face every time he comes home to you.

even comes home with small groceries that you said you needed to pick up the day after, just cause it was “on his route,” quoted him, even though he most definitely had to cross some streets and walk a little longer to get it.

doesn’t sleep a lot so listens to you breath most nights (no matter how weird it sounds). enjoys it though, makes him feel comfortable.

definitely the type to kiss your hand and wrist. goes along with the worshipping part.

doesn’t really talk much. you know he has so much to say but he doesn’t say much of it. especially when it comes down to his feelings towards certain things.

he’s easy to read though. since you’ve been in a relationship you’ve realized how important it is to just let him be quiet and watch his eyes and behavior.

makes little jokes here and there, once he’s comfortable. especially if you’re already the playful type, yeah he’s make some sarcastic jokes.

feels embarrassed about his hands at first. he most definitely felt ashamed of them and lied about what happened for the first couple weeks of your relationship.

ends it telling you the truth late at night when he can’t sleep once he realizes that he’s comfortable enough w you and he’s iinnn looovvveee.

likes to lay on your chest and let you play with his hair. side note: i just know his hair is sooo soft but is almost all the time sticky and sweaty.

thinking about how he’d love hugging you after having a panic attack. like he’s breathing heavy, arms around you tight.

feel like if you ever gave him something for like luck or just a small gift he’d take it everywhere and/or wear it everyday.

also something that’s soo him coded is having a picture of you in his wallet. like the cutest picture ever on earth, taken by him of course.

thinks you're the best thing that has happen to him in a long time and he adores you.

will just stare at you without you knowing (while you’re focusing on something else) and go “you’re gorgeous.”

there’s no doubt in my mind that he wouldn’t look at another woman like he looks at you. he wouldn’t dare even share a glance to them.

during his missions, he wouldn’t get you involved unless you wanted to be.

he would consider it for a little, just because you want to but deep down he’s just wants to say no and that be the end of it.

losing you scares him and to put you in the position where he would lose you is the last thing he wants to do.

when he leaves and doesn’t know if he coming back he says, “i’ll be with you forever soon.” before kissing your lips.

adding on to the gift one, he’d even carry it during his extreme antics. can’t help but think about him waking up after being shot, at the temple, and looking around for it (if it’s not on his person).

“the picture… that was in my pocket.” he’d ask quietly to the keeper. they point to the small bed side table, kid hadn’t taken note of before. he lets out almost a sigh once he finds the picture, but can’t help but worry about how you’re feeling. a frown slightly shadowing his face. “she’s beautiful,” the keeper comments.

when they put him on the news as a wanted terrorist, and even after, he stayed away, trying to keep you safe.

in his community, he’s seen the small kids grow up and older adults have seen him do so, so he’s very particular with who he introduces them to.

and let’s say he doesn’t hesitate all that much to do so with you.

i feel like the kids would warm up to you somewhat quickly.

feel like they would give you little trinkets or flowers they found, just cause.

if you play with them and kid witnesses?? he’s not gonna say it, he swears up and down it’s the cutest thing he’s seen in his life (gets baby fever).

in the sheets, he prefers sex to be passionate and loving. feel like he fucks you like it’s the last he’ll ever see you, every time.

feel like he’d like to rough with you sometimes. maybe if he’s stressed and he always asks if you want it rougher.

he talks you through it. like my god. but like really sweetly.

he’s a tit man! just feel like he’s too shy to look at your ass but definitely not shy enough to look down your top.

[cherryblossom-enthusiast]

Retribution (The Kidxf!Reader) - Monkey Man

A/N: I said I was writing it and it has been done lol If you haven’t watched this film yet, please do! I indulged and wrote a small fic about it lol (Don't mind the abyssmal pacing of this, I barely edited and added anything) I hope you all enjoy it and can someone please indulge me more by writing more fics about this man!? Dev Patel absolutely killed it! Put him in a rom-com! I tried to write the hijra with as much care as possible. Please let me know if there’s something I can be more educated on in terms of this!

Synopsis: A mysterious man arrives at the temple you call home and makes quite an impression.

Warnings/ Tags: Angst. Fluff. Allusions to sex work. Descriptions of violence and blood. Coarse language. Kissing.

Word Count: 3.2K

Masterlist

The cheers of those around you interrupt the hanging of your laundry.

Peeking through the shoulders and the shadows, you sneak a glance at the subject of commotion, and it doesn’t surprise you.

The way he moves is equal parts graceful and aggressive. His punches are meticulously messy, a choreographed war drum thrumming to the beat of his own heart. This man is far removed from who you remember gazing upon a few days ago. His eyes were lost, sunken, like a child looking for guidance or divine judgement for all that’s led him to this point.

This was not that man.

This man was vengeance personified.

And through him, you felt hope.

You knew nothing about him. Alpha was able to garner all of your help, quietly and quickly instructing to pull the man out of the river. You were there when they cauterized his wounds. His screams were pure agony, making you cringe, and somehow you felt that his pain went deeper than physicality.

He walked like a ghost when he first came, aimlessly walking, like trying to just bump into something that would give him an answer.

Now, it seems he walks with purpose.

He throws his last punch and receives a mighty applause. The crowd recognizes the show’s over for the time being and they disperse as he keeps heaving, staring at the bag like he wants to hit it more. Like he never wants to stop.

You pick up a basket and walk over to him. Whether to strike up a proper conversation or feeling annoyed at the dirtied shirt on the ground you had just washed, you don’t exactly know. But something about him is magnetic, pulling you in, just like the first time you saw him that night, all bloody and bruised.

You nod at his white shirt. “I’ll take that.”

He breaks from his spell and turns to look at you.

His heaving slows, his breaths getting deeper by the second. For what you think is a few minutes, he just stares are you, and you at him, both of you taking each other in. You realize his physique really is something to awe over, but more importantly, that his eyes are far gentler than what you thought possible.

You tilt your head. “The shirt?”

He bends and picks up the white cloth, simply extending it to you as he continues to stare. You gesture for him to drop it into the basket. With an amused scoff, you start to turn away. “I’d appreciate it if you hung the next shirt you tore off on a wall.”

“Your name?”

His voice surprises you. You’ve only heard him speak a few times before. He sounds rough, and scratchy, like he doesn’t use his voice often.

You introduce yourself and after a few moments, he repeats your name back to you. Slowly, quietly, as if he’s scared of offending you in any way. Listening to it fall from his lips is like listening to dripping honey and you’d be lying to yourself if you said it didn’t make heat crawl up your neck.

To save face, you again start to walk away from him. “Widen your stance.” You advise, not waiting to hear a reply.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Several days pass until you have another full conversation.

You’re caught up with mundane chores. He’s caught up with punching that bag and doing god knows what else when he’s not at the temple.

Though there was that one time you almost slip and he catches you effortlessly by the waist and it definitely made your stomach flutter.

You smile the first time you depart to wash laundry and see his shirt hanging over a nearby wall.

He’s getting better. His posture looks strong, immovable. Sometimes you think with all that’s happened to him, that he must be invincible. Surely, no one can lose that much blood and still maintain their sanity.

But then you see his movements wain by the end of his exercise and it’s like something powerful overcomes him as he loses all finesse and he punches that rice-filled bag for all its worth with no rhyme or reason. You sense his frustration as he suddenly stops and puts his hand on his hips, breathing erratically.

You approach him cautiously. Pulling out a bottle of water from your laundry basket, you offer it to him. “Consider taking a break?”

He’s slow to take the bottle from you but he does so anyway. After almost draining the whole thing, he splashes the rest of the water over his head. Only as he shakes the droplets off his curly locks does he try to return it to you.

“An actual break.” You reiterate, stuffing the bottle of water back into your basket. “Your drummer needs one too. He might have built up his callouses, but he should eat something.”

The man turns to look where your eyes are directed and though you don’t have a clear view of his face, you can tell from the way that his eyebrows ease that he feels a sense of guilt. The drummer simply raises his palm and stands. “Take some time to clear your head, I’ll be here whenever you have.” He leaves the courtyard until it’s just the two of you left.

The weather is oddly cool today. There’s smoke and a mugginess that’s expected from being close to the heart of the city, but if you were to look around, it’d almost seem like you were transported decades into the past. The temple acts like a sanctuary, shielding you all from the outside world’s noise and it does a good job.

You walk towards a small wooden bench off to the far side and take a seat. You set your basket down and pat the space next to you. “Come,” You beckon “I’d appreciate some company while I fold all of these white shirts I’ve had to add to my load.”’

Something like embarrassment flashes on his face as he follows your command and sits right next to you. His posture is stiff like he wants to make an impression. It’s obvious your newfound companion doesn’t like to talk, or more accurately, isn’t very good at starting small conversation.

“I’m sorry for the bother.”

He has a tone of bashfulness, unable to turn in your direction. Your smile widens as you continue to fold “I didn’t say it was bothersome.” You refute. “In fact, I’d rather say I don’t mind you taking your shirt off.”

You try to make direct eye contact then, but he swallows thickly and doesn’t meet your eyes. It makes you giggle, but you decide to pull back on the joke, not wanting him to take offence or cause him more uneasiness. “Besides, each shirt is a testament to how much work you’ve put into bettering your skills here.”

That gets him to scoff and drop his head in disbelief “I’m still not where I need to be.”

“No,” you reply earnestly “but you will be.”

This earns you another bout of silence.

 For a while, you both just enjoy each other’s quiet company. He stares blankly ahead and you give him the time to examine whatever it is he’s battling through in his own thoughts.

Eventually, he sighs and inclines his head towards the sky. “How long have you lived here?”

“Ever since I could remember.”  You answer honestly. “Alpha says they opened the door and there I was, miraculously alive, left laying on a dirty blanket.”

“You’ve been here ever since?” He carefully asks.

“I’ve never lived anywhere else if that’s what you’re asking.” You pass an unfolded shirt to him and to your surprise he starts to fold it with no question. Bitter memories start to glaze your view. “And for someone as uneducated as me, there’s only a few jobs out there that I’d be considered for as a woman.”

A knowing silence passes through you both at the statement. Yatana was unforgiving. A real dog-eat-dog society with no time or need for those who couldn’t stomach it or keep up. Truth be told, most of the time you couldn’t. Very often would a prostitute or child be pounding on your doors for help or asylum. Hungry, beaten, thrown away like a speck of dust not worth anyone’s time.

“Doesn’t it make you angry?”

You’re unphased by the question. “Of course it does.”

And you mean it. There are days when you scream at the sky or dunk your head slightly longer underwater to try and get away from it all, try to release it in some way.

Eyes still trained to the sky; he confesses “Because that’s all I feel. Anger and pain, and I can’t-“ he struggles to finish his words. “I can’t-‘

“I know.”

That makes him look back down and finally turn in your direction. He patiently expects you to explain.

 You swallow thickly but continue to talk anyway. “To feel helpless, like you can’t do anything no matter how hard you try.” Gritting your teeth, you realize your hands have stopped folding. “But it doesn’t matter, because there are people who need me more strongly than the pain I feel.”

He considers your words thoughtfully and waits for you to speak once more. “Amidst all this chaos, this temple stands. People need me here. Children, mothers, the beautiful hijra who gave me a home, and when they leave this place with the tiniest glimpse of hope on their faces, then I know I’ve done my job. I don’t fight as well as the hijra here, I don’t expect to get much better, but I want them to know that they have refuge with me.”

You pass him an unfolded sari and for the rest of the time you are sitting together, you both fold quietly, basking in the sun and each other’s presence.

He continues to train harder after that. Each step is quick, each punch as sharp as a bullet. When he isn’t training, he’s watching. The news, the protests, the speeches, like he’s reassuring himself, learning the best way to approach.

 It’s obvious everyone here, including you is taken with this stranger. Though, you don’t really know if you could even call him that anymore.

It’s like he seeks you out. It doesn’t matter if it’s simply sitting together for dinner or him deliberately waiting for you to walk through the courtyard with your basket under your arm. Both of your eyes are trained on each other with an eager sheen.

Maybe it’s fear or maybe it's an understanding that your pairing would most likely never work out in the end. Either way, whatever it is, it disappoints you because you so badly want to believe he wants you the same way.

The mood becomes slightly flirtatious and you catch sight of a boyish grin here or there, especially when he���s surrounded by the hijra.

But anytime you think he might ask you something, or just when you’re on the cusp of telling him your interest, something stops you in your tracks, holding you back.

A recollection plays in your head of last night.

It’s just him and the drummer again today. You wait near a dark window before you pass so as to not to disturb his concentration.

He has a beat to the way he fights, a brutal rhythm, and it astounds you every time you watch him. If this is how he looks punching a bag, you wonder how he’d look fighting against others. You find the thought oddly attractive, and it makes you flush.

For all his skill in the ring, it seems that’s where all his artistry in footwork stops. Surrounded by laughing and beaming faces, with the sound of softer drumming in the air, everyone takes a turn dancing. No one cared about how sloppy anyone was. You sure weren’t the best dancer amongst the hijras, but this seemed unsubstantial when you were all drunk on each other’s company.

The children present that evening and you form a small circle. You’re swinging your arms around when you notice your mystery man with a smile of his own. It knocks the air out of your lungs. It’s one that gives him crinkles around his eyes and all at once he doesn’t look like a hardened killer, but someone you’d see on a billboard or a magazine cover.

You crook your finger at him, inviting him into your little dance number. He tries to politely decline, his once beaming face turning something sheepish, but Alpha bumps him shoulder to shoulder, and soon the rest of them urge and tease him to dance along. When he gets to the center begrudgingly, it’s already too late for him to back out. Two children start to pull him until he lands directly opposite of you.

The circle of your intertwined hands spins, it twirls here and there, and when you all raise your hands to shrink the circle, you land face-to-face with the most fascinating man you’ve ever seen. It lasts all of five seconds, but everything around you dims as you look at this man’s face illuminated by firelight.

His eyes are his most emotive feature and they always seem to twinkle. Right then, they almost looked like jewels from the way they glossed over.

You pick up on the way those eyes slowly dipped down towards your lips and suddenly you wonder if he’s thinking about the same things you are. If he really does want you the same way you do.

But before you can tumble into that path of thought, cheers and hoots pull you out of the little bubble of enchantment you’d created. You turn to reject the idea of it all, but when you glance back at the man in front of you, your breath catches.

He continues to stare intently at your visage, not minding or caring about the extra attention one bit.

And then a scream erupts in your ears.

Seeing him punch the bag until rice grains stick to his chest reminds you of what he’s capable of.

When he shares a nod with the drummer, you know that he’s finally achieved what he came here at the temple to do.

Dropping your basket, you immediately rush indoors, following the cries of the hijra around you. Lakshmi lays in the center of the temple room floor, blood dripping from them like a fountain. You crouch and gently put their head on your knees as the weeps continue all around you.

They explain that they put a notice on the door, Shakti’s men, and all you can see is an unbridled tint of red starting to form. Your heart is pounding, Lakshmi is struggling to fight for air, and in front of this statue, an indescribable wave of pain crashes into you.

It’s loud, far too loud. With your thoughts, the cries, the blood staining your shirt.

Your one hand on the floor clenches into a fist. You try to remind yourself that you can be better, that there must be something more to all of this than just pray, than to just keep taking what they serve like impotent little ants. The hopelessness starts to creep in, slowly etching itself into your thoughts.

But before it can take hold, you distinguish a face in the shadows. It’s observing as everything around you starts to crumble and in that moment you try to push all that anger onto him as you directly glare into his soul.

And when you see him break open the donation box much later during the humid night, you know you’ve put your faith into the right person.

He tries to leave as silently as he came, but you meet him at the entrance. He holds a crude, dirty children’s bag and you can only assume that’s where he’s keeping the money.

He tries to explain, but you start to approach him which stops his needless rambling. In an act of boldness, you grab his hand in yours and flip it to look clearly at his scars. If he’s uncomfortable, he doesn’t show it. He doesn’t even flinch.

“Alpha was right.” You agree. “You do have the hands of a warrior”

You enclose his hand between yours, putting it up against your lips. “I wonder how such gentle hands fight with such ferocity.”

He starts to twitch and as you loosen your grip, expecting him to pull back, he instead cups the side of your face and despite his scarred calloused hands, his touch is pure velvet. His thumb brushes the tears you didn’t notice were starting to fall freely down your cheek.

Please, you pray. Whatever it takes.

“Fight for me.” You croak thickly. “Fight for all of us.”

He clenches his jaw. “I promise you.”

You pull him towards you by grasping his neck and your lips meet in the middle. The kiss is like him. Equal parts sweet as it is harsh. His lips were warm and soft, but the urgency in the way you both kissed each other was anything but. You bury your hand into his hair and feel his curls unmake themselves even further. His smell of soap and sage infiltrates your senses.

It was a dizzying feeling. It’s what you felt while you were dancing exploded ten-fold. It was the culmination of tension and grief exploding into something technicolour. As your noses bump against each other, you think you want to draw more of this kindness from this man.

Your breathing quickens and he groans into your mouth. It’s almost like you two are fighting. With each other, against each other, for each other. Exploring this hungry need has only made you more insatiable.  

And that becomes particularly dangerous, especially when you know he has a job to do.

Reluctantly you pull back. His eyes stay closed and you press your foreheads together, listening to the crackles of the torches around you. “Your emotions are strong.” You quietly whisper. “But do not let them control you. Let them guide you.”

He blinks his eyes open, full of clarity.

Letting each other go hesitantly, you take one last look at him and he at you. “Come back to me,” you say with all the confidence you can muster.

You can tell you’re both skeptical about your claim, but he nods his head anyway. He walks around you and you don’t turn to look at him leave for fear of wanting to hold him back. You hear the creak of the door, but before he can take another step away from you, you mumble “Give them Hell.”

There’s a slight pause before you start to hear the crunching of the ground beneath him, each step lighter than the last until you can no longer hear him creeping into the night.

Please, you pray. Whatever it takes.

- - - - - -

When you see the money-filled bag hanging on the statue the next day, it’s attached with a note.

His presence overflows through your every pore.

Alpha looks at you with a determined expression on their face, as do the other hijra around them.

It seems they don’t just want repayment, they want a reckoning.

They want retribution.

- - - - - -

A/N: Please let me know what you think by leaving a note, comment, or reblog! Or we can just geek out about Monkey Man lol I definitely won’t be opposed to that lol

[jd-loves-fiction]

𝐎𝐩𝐢𝐚

n. the ambiguous intensity of looking someone in the eye, which can feel simultaneously invasive and vulnerable—their pupils glittering, bottomless and opaque—as if you were peering through a hole in the door of a house, able to tell that there’s someone standing there, but unable to tell if you’re looking in or looking out.

✦ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Sir Gawain x GN!Reader

✦ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: smut + fluff

✦ 𝐰𝐜: 2.2k

✦ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: Minors DO NOT INTERACT thanks. also DONT USE SALIVA AS LUBE THIS IS THE MIDDLE AGES WAAAAHH

✦ 𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: Anyway I havent written anything in a hot second, especially smut, so i might've lost my touch but this man makes me insane. Hope its still enjoyable anyway and im working on some fluffy stuff as well whoop enjoy :)

Stupid quest. Stupid forest. Stupid rainwater puddle.

You didn't see it – you were too damn busy staring into those gorgeous brown eyes of his, lashes lowered ever so slightly in a way so tender it might as well have been what knocked you over.

“Oh goodness.” Sir Gawain exhales a second after the splash, arms reaching for you a little too late. Turns out he’d been lost staring at you as well. “A-Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

“I–” You start to deny it but think better of it. It’s Gawain, he’d know the answer just from looking at you. “I’m cold. And wet. And tired.”

“I see. Let’s find ourselves a place for the night, yes? The storm from last night might be coming back.” He tells you, reaching out a large hand to pull you up. You take it without hesitation.

Quickly finding yourselves a damp and dingy little cave to pass the night in, Gawain gets to work starting a fire as you shiver uncontrollably. 

“You know–” He begins, fumbling with two rocks and a handful of dryish branches, looking up at you for a moment, “You look good, all soaking wet.”

The warmth of his gaze sweeps over your form, lingering on your shaking shoulders, passing by the water dripping off your linen shirt and how your arms curl around yourself to keep the heat in – heat he stokes with that cheeky look, the quickness of his breath, the biting of his lovely, soft, bottom lip…

A spark goes off, catching fire to the branches, cutting the tension like a hot knife over butter. But it does not dissipate, the fire does not cool, it merely wanes to a simmer.

“I bet you’d look even better.” You blurt out, just to get the last word in before sitting by the flames, not entirely aware of what you’ve just said and where his beautiful, hasty mind would take your words. Then again, you’re much more concerned with not freezing to death.

“Trying to warm up with wet clothes isn’t going to do you any good. It isn't going to do anything at all, really.”

“What do you suggest, then?” You sigh, knees tucked to your chest, sitting opposite the dashing young knight.

“You should take off whatever clothes are wet and let them dry by the fire.” He begins shrugging off his thick wooly cape to lay on the stone floor beside him, “And sit close to me – we can share body heat.” he adds on quickly, as if he hasn't made his intentions with you clear enough throughout this journey already.

You’re not sure when it started, when his dark eyes began wandering, when his touches started lingering, or even when you started doing the same. But it’s clear to the two of you; the want– the need too transparent to hide. 

There’s more to it though, for you at least. It would be almost too easy to dive into him otherwise. Like a nymph’s bewitching calls into murky waters.

But it could never be that easy. Not with the one they may one day call King. That and his womanizinging reputation.

Expecting anything other than a purely lustful encounter out of this would be foolish to say the least, but perhaps you are a fool. Because the way he looks at you; the way he has been looking at you since– whenever you started noticing; makes you feel as if there might be a chance. 

So you do as he suggests, stripping down to the basics under his unwavering gaze, shuffling over to his side and nuzzling against him.

Questions swirl endlessly within your mind while leaning on Gawain's warm body, his shirt so thin you could almost perfectly imagine what he'd look like without it in your mind's eye.

But then, those eyes, clear as spring water in their intentions, cage you in with their stare and suddenly you feel as if everything must be laid out plainly, “What are your intentions with me, Sir Gawain?”

The look on his face nearly makes you regret it, fearing you may have offended him, but surely he’s aware of his reputation – surely he must understand.

After a beat he exhales with a slight smile as his large hand comes around to your shoulder, “Are they not clear?”

“Clear as they may be, I like things to be absolutely transparent, especially when it comes to men of your… caliber.” He hums in acknowledgement with a smirk, before it slowly slides off his face, replaced with a thoughtful expression so rarely seen it could be possession.

“I understand what you mean, love. But, in truth, I cannot answer you as of yet.” At the inquisitive look you give him he begins trying to explain himself, “It is that… Well, I am to be King somewhat soon, I assume. So it would be reckless for me to act as carelessly as I once did. But then also, I do not yet know what my intentions are – beyond tonight, that is.” Your face warms slightly at his suggestive tone as his hand drifts down your naked back, “All I know, is that you intrigue me. Greatly. If anything, I know– I feel as if… once will not be enough…”

A dark hand of long, slender fingers lifts your chin to meet his fathomless stare, looking deep into your eyes and beyond that – to your vulnerable soul. 

“I feel… the same.” You speak, suddenly breathless as your face nears his subconsciously, giving in to his siren call.

Lips meeting like a spark to a fire, a beginning. His hands wander over you, reverent, gentle, as yours grasp at the front of his tunic, urging him as close as humanly possible – as if close isn't nearly close enough.

The kiss grows fiercer, a push and pull of soft pink muscles attempting to gain control, before being forced to part, open around heaving breaths while eyes grow hazy with lust– no, yearning. Gawain draws back to shed that bothersome tunic before his hands attach themselves to your hips to pull you onto his lap. The ease with which he does it has you grinding down instantly, hands running over sweat-slick caramel skin.

His dark curls bounce as he tosses his head back under your movements, desperate for some control of the primal urges suddenly overloading his brain – to fuck you without mercy, to ruin you for anyone else – but no, that’s not how he wants this to go.

“God above, you're beautiful.” He breathes, hands stilling your hips to let his eyes sweep over your features slowly. The intensity of his gaze makes you squirm and the strength in his hands warms your inside more than the fire ever could. 

Burying your face in his gorgeous, exposed neck you speak so low not even God could hear, “Shut up and take your pants off.”

You feel him smile against your hair, laying a kiss against it before drawing away to do as you ask, somewhat clumsily, but earnestly all the same. Sitting still on his cloak, you watch him avidly, eyes catching on every new inch of dawn-hued skin revealed.

The singularity of the moment strikes you suddenly; back at the castle, amongst duties and expectations, this would never be possible – this calm, this undemanding rhythm. You have no place to be, no one to meet, so you can just be. Together.

“Where did you go?” He whispers, caressing your face with a softness undeserving of a knight’s strength, making your eyes focus back on his features and immediately surge forward to connect your lips to his, “Nowhere important.”

Gentle as a breeze Gawain lays you back, body between your legs and arms beside your shoulders. His prominent nose brushes yours softly, sensually as he parts your legs even further, “Good. I want you here with me. For this will not be a moment you’ll want to ever forget.”

“Oh,” You chuckle teasingly, back arching almost subconsciously against his warm, wide chest while his hips start moving against yours, “You’re sure of that, are you?”

“Your reaction tells me all I need to be sure.” He replies, so cocksure you’re suddenly reminded of who he’d been before the Green Knight had showed up proposing a ridiculous game – knowing he hasn't changed completely is oddly comforting.

“You talk too much… Sir.” You grumble in lieu of remaining silent and further inflating his ego, getting a raised brow at the tacked-on title.

“But you like it, don't you? Don't lie to me, it's unbecoming.” The corners of his lovely lips twitching with the effort not to laugh. Quick as a flash, your legs lock around his waist, pulling his center down to yours and he’s forced to take a breath from between his teeth as his long lashes flutter, “Like I said; you talk too much.”

Gawain bites his tongue – there will be plenty of time to get back at you once you’re mindless and thoroughly spent – he reasons. For now, he just needs to get you there.

One large hand settles at the base of your throat as his luscious lips travel down your neck in flickers of contact that have you arching against his firm grip for more. Soft as a feather, he pulls away your undergarments as needed to kiss at your chest; sweetly at first and then so wet and sloppy you’re left gasping and whimpering, hands grasping at his strong shoulders for purchase.

Grabbing you below the knees, he gently pries your legs open while kissing down your body until you're tingling and trembling all over wishing he'd just get to it.

“Gawain…”

“Hmm? Are you going to beg? Go on.”

You pout petulantly; no you won't beg, he'd enjoy that far too much. But you can, however, tempt him into doing what you want.

“Gawain…” you moan seemingly helplessly, nails brushing his skin making him shiver in delight, “won't you take me? It's clear you want to.”

“It's clear, is it?” He chuckles breathlessly, ceasing completely to just watch you and it makes you want to smack the back of his head in frustration.

Breathing deep, your eyes move over him carefully, appreciating every inch of delicious, exposed skin so many yearn to catch a glimpse of before…

“Gawain,” you raise an amused brow, surely he noticed… “Yes?”

Oh, he's far too good at playing dumb.

You raise yourself until your lips barely brush his, brown hues watching you closely down the length of his nose before your hand boldly presses down on his stiff cock and those eyes glaze over before rolling back in overwhelming delight, “I'd call this pretty obvious.”

Hand squeezing in pulses, you're granted a low groan followed by a deep sigh, “God, you're too much. I cannot– wait.”

Gawain's mouth devours yours, hungry as a wolf, pushing down once more while his lithe fingers graze the inside of your thighs, grinning at what he finds. Cheeks warming at how your mouth chases his as he pulls back, he gives his palm a full lick before wrapping it around his throbbing cock and stroking. The flames illuminate this length of his gorgeous neck like an old painting and your tongue longs to glide over it and follow the path of his sweat so deeply you almost miss him speaking, “Will you beg now?”

You groan most crudely, far over his games and his perfect face and his disarming voice and his damned haughtiness– your hand grasps the curls at the back of his head, delighting in his whimpered response, “Take me now or so help me–,” your not proud of the way your voice wavers but you’re both past that now.

Gawain’s lips connect with yours surprisingly softly, leaning his forehead against yours and lining himself up with your center, “Shh, I’ve got you, just relax.”

A kiss to your hairline is the only warning you get before he starts pushing into you, slow as can be and yet still you cry out at the feeling in between the kisses he places to your lips to offer some comfort.

“There we go, breathe for me. It’ll feel better soon…”

“Gawain…” You moan, clinging onto him as the bite of initial pain melts into pleasure.

Sucking on your neck, his hips sway against yours rhythmically, wavering only when your nails dig into his sides while moaning desperately in his ear, “Gawain please…”

“Now–” his breathing stutters while his hips buck suddenly, pressing a collection of whispered curses from both of your mouths, “Now you beg?”

“Just please fuck me, please.”

The way his cock twitches inside you tells all you need to know on how he feels about your words.

Curls brush the side of your neck as he reaches to bite at your lobe, grunting and moaning into it while speeding up his hips so much your own moans become stuttered and desperate.

As the end nears, Gawain presses his lips to yours, nearly missing in his eagerness, and opens his mouth as if to say something but no words leave him, only a loud moan of your name ringing across the cave just as your body does the same.

Your mind is eerily quiet as you come down, blinking eyes you don't recall closing and feeling the next king breathe against your naked chest while gathering himself. After a moment he raises himself on shaky arms to gaze down at you, hand reaching to brush a stray hair from your cheek and sighing as if suddenly, all is right in the world.

[spikershoyo]

hey hey…mutuals who haven’t, have you watched monkey man (2024)? I think u should go watch monkey man (2024), monkey man (2024) is really neat, I think the people who I follow and follow me back also known as mutuals should go watch monkey man (2024)…if it’s not in theaters and u don’t wanna buy/rent it, go to fmovies…it’s an illegal website and it’s pretty good…go try it…u should watch monkey man (2024)…please I’m begging u

[royalsunshinehotel]

Hello again! Sorry I didnt see that you answered my message tumblr didnt notify me for some reason 🤦‍♀️. And boy do i have ideas for ya boy, our heart and soul, David. (If u still write for him that is).

Picture this: you and david are newlyweds and on a honeymoon. Im picturing something like the channel islands like Jersey, where theres still a nice city aspect but you can get pretty solitary if u want. You run around, do some shopping maybe, goof off together. You both have a cottage that overlooks the water. You both walk by the edge of the water for a bit, completely lovesick and he just chats about how lucky he is that you said yes to him. He keeps telling you how lovely look and you keep teasing him too. Eventually the banter gets very heated and he drags you back to your room in the cottage and ✨️christens✨️ it with you.

This is just an idea btw, not a request or anything so think on this , and have a lovely day!

A Lucky Cloud (David Copperfield x wife!reader, 18+)

Giddy was the perfect word for it.

It had been exactly two days since you had met David at the church and become his wife. You find it's quite convenient because early that morning, you were able to kiss the top of David's nose to wake him, and instead of leaving, the two of you would take breakfast together. Your husband is quite a handsome man, it simply has to be said.

You watched him, as you always do, take a sip of his tea, large hands, long elegant fingers holding the cup. Those were the same hands you'd felt everywhere the evening before. He had the nerve to bat his long lashes at you, "What are you thinking, dearest?"

"You're all mine." You stated simple facts, David smiled and put his cup down.

"I am, we signed the papers." Til death do us part, though David said longer.

"And I'm yours." You grinned for no real reason, and David moved his chair back, leaving his lap open. It would have been a shame to leave that seat empty, so you pounced.

"You are. Gone soft on me, have you?" He sighed as you sat down in his lap, as if he had been holding his breath. 

"I have. How sad." David takes your chin with his thumb, and brings your mouth to his, kissing your pout. He tasted sweet, from the sugar cubes piled in his tea. He enjoyed your mouth for a moment, hands roaming over clothes, but he pulled away…

"As much as I would like to take you back to bed, I think we should take a walk today, just to say we did." You blinked at him.

"Outside?" You cocked your head. Why would he want to do a thing like that?

"Outside. Maybe just along the water." Oh, David did enjoy large bodies of water, you wouldn't deny him that.

"But not too far." You stated, looking him in his big eyes. 

I’d like to be back in bed within the hour, you thought. 

"Not too far." He confirmed, kissing your cheek. Your husband helps you up off his lap, coughing lightly, ignoring the state of his trousers. 

It's just another moment, that the two of you finished your breakfast, and got changed. You wouldn’t bother to tell David why you’re not putting on your various layers. You’ll just be wearing your overcoat and hoping for the best. 

You squeaked as David kissed the back of your neck, while helping you put on your coat. It was something simple, but you still felt weak in the knees. How strange it was! You weren't a woman who squeaked before you met David, and it still managed to surprise you.

He opened the door for you, and you tried not to wince as the cool air hit your skin. This would be a lovely interlude to what had been an alarming amount of time spent on marital relations. You would enjoy the break, or you wouldn’t let David see that you would much rather be inside, underneath him. 

Overall, you’d say your honeymoon was going quite well. You never saw yourself as someone who could get married, but then David barreled into your life and showed you how wrong you were. 

The autumn sun hit your skin and you sighed lighty, letting the cool fresh air take hold. He was right, as much as you’d hate to admit it. It was a lovely idea. 

You snuggled into your husband's arm, fingers toying with the cuff of his wool overcoat. Jersey was a fantastic choice for the two of you, plenty of good food in town, but plenty of nature too. You knew David grew up with natural life close by, maybe you could give your children the same luxury!

The two of you leisurely made your way down to the stony beach, you released his arm, and let him go to the edge of the water like you know he loves to do. 

“You were right husband, just this one time.” He scoffed at you, giving you a big toothy grin, sticking his hand into the lake. 

You sat on a large log and watched your husband enjoy himself. You breathe deeply, letting the air refresh you, cleanse. David came to sit by you. 

“Do you think our children will come here one day?” You asked, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“Our children?” He asked, voice tinged with incredulousness. 

“Tell me you’ve thought of them.” Before the wedding, it was practically all he could talk about!! 

“I have!” Since the wedding, he hasn't. He’d been a little lost in you. But he was thinking of them now.

David put your hand in his own, linking your fingers. 

“David.”

“Yes?”

“Do you want to meet our children sooner?” 

“...Yes.”

Getting home was both a sprint and a blur. 

As a former chorus girl, you had to be athletic. David, your beloved, was typically not. However, today the power of desire would make him keep pace, behind you like a loyal dog.

A chilly fall breeze blew the two of you through the front door, David slammed it immediately after, as you pinned him against it, about to tear through his coat and shirt to get to him. 

He beamed as you put your mouth everywhere you could reach, frantically, like the two of you were reuniting after a war. He moaned into your mouth, your grip on his coat lapels unforgiving. 

“You’d debase me in the hallway, dearest?” he asked, coming up for air, only for a moment. You scowled at him, pretending to pout. 

Slowly, you backed away from him, and he batted his big eyes at you, “You should run then,” he cocked his head, “Or I’ll start without you.” 

His eyes flash as you strip off your coat, and sprint to the main bedroom, you whirl around and try to slam the door, only for your dearest husband to dramatically throw himself into the door frame. Oh bless him…

He gaped at you, and you laughed at him, “Minx!” he declared, “You’d lock out your husband?” 

“When he’s misbehaved, yes!” How dare he be unwilling to take you in the hallway! It never stopped the two of you before!

“I’d argue it was you who misbehaved!” He tried, as if you hadn’t been suffering on your day out. 

“Then come over here and punish me for it.” 

David stared at you a moment, as if he was trying to make a memory. You huff at this, kicking off your shoes, and flopping back in bed. He wouldn’t punish you, he puts the idea down immediately, as well as falling to his knees. 

“May I serve you?” 

“Since you asked so nicely…” He crawled to you, and you pulled him up next to you on the bed. How ridiculous it was, to have missed someone you had spent the whole day with. 

“I’d like your mouth, husband.” You purred, brushing your nose against his. 

“So take it, wife.” He replied softly, waiting for your next cue. 

You think a moment, about the first time you mounted your David’s face, and how relentless he’d been for you. Only stopping when you said. What a good man you had. All yours, just like he said. 

Your heart skipped as David gave you the goofiest of smiles, before pulling your shared pillows into place. He’s much too tall to fuck around without pillows.

“You’re a very good husband, dearest,” you beamed at him. You had read it was important to share such thoughts. 

“I can be better!” You scoffed, undoing the buttons of David’s shirt to reveal a lovely amount of his chest. The bedroom in the house where you were staying was tightly insulated, the autumn sun streaming through the windows, making the two of you perfectly warm. 

David’s face should have felt more familiar with how much time you spent enjoying it. It was almost unfair how he was designed, looking up at you from two comfortable pillows, expectantly, mouth open. 

You thanked yourself for having the foresight to strip off your heavier clothes, as you migrate in bed, to do what David had so nicely prepared for. 

Your firm grip on his hair, his long eyelashes fluttering, a pleasant, sharp nose. How every lady he set eyes on didn’t fall, was beyond you. 

Properly seated, and your husband’s neck supported, you slowly grinded against his beautiful face. Your husband didn’t stand for this, taking a harsh grip on your ass, and pushing you down further. 

Rolling forward, you took hold of the bed frame, and took one of David’s wandering hands in your own, placing it on your belly, the other supporting your lower back. 

You adored his tongue. You practically married him for it. 

You continued to rock slowly against his face, harder and harder as your skin gets hotter and hotter. David made it so hard for you to contain yourself! You had been so calm and concealed when you met him, and now you were practically about to break his nose! 

A hand wandered up to feel your breast, and he groaned against you when he found it. 

You came loudly, boldly, onto David’s tongue, and you swore you could feel him smile against your pussy. He used his tongue to fuck you the whole way through, wobbling, clinging to the bedframe as tight as you could. 

He was the only one who could do this to you, the only one who stripped you down to your most vulnerable, and lavish you with care and sensitivity regardless of what mess he might see. 

His face was still wet with your release as you leaned back, your knees angry with you for staying still for so long. A lovely floaty feeling settled on the top of your head, like a very lucky, wispy cloud. 

David caught his breath, observing you closely. You crashed, pressing your face into his neck, his grip steady, unrelenting.. 

“Need you,” You mumbled into his hair, and you heard the vibrations of a chuckle in his chest. You really were a minx, and you knew it too.  

He helps you pull your underskirts up to your waist, his forehead pressed to your own as you feel a blunt pressure against your wetness. He’s warm, familiar by now, and it’s absolutely perfect. 

The two of you weren’t rushed by any means. David firmly rolls you back on top of him, your mouth sucking and biting at his neck at your leisure, as if he was some kind  of rare treat.

He thought, for a moment, about the first time he had you, like this, completely calm and unguarded. He vaguely registered you changing your pace as the relief the two of you were chasing got closer and closer. You’d said something so ridiculous he could almost laugh now, “You’re so good to me David, I’m afraid I don’t deserve you.” 

“What utter nonsense.” He said in the bedroom. You didn’t notice his words, completely preoccupied chasing release, faster and faster as you kept his pulse under your teeth. Your breathy little gasps and familiar squelching sounded like music, and your husband thinks to write this down. For personal use, obviously. 

The two of you held each other tightly through the come down, your head firmly resting on David’s chest, and he drew thin lines all over your skin with his fingertips. 

“I think I want to keep my hands on you forever,” He hummed into your hair. You laughed a little, leaning to press a kiss to his throat. His eyes fluttered shut at that, as they always did. 

“You can, you know,” you replied warmly, smiling as he did what he said, running large hands over you. 

“Hmmm…legs,” he traced his hands down feeling you there, as you casually brought your fingers through his dark, curly mane. 

“Hair.” You announced. He brushed his nose against your own.

“What are we doing?” 

“Saying what we love.” You hummed as if it was the most simple thing in the world. 

“Everything.” David sighed into your mouth, “Everything. Us.”

consulting credits to my dearest @youlooklike-clarabow

[sodacatz]

I'll be writing a few monkey man fics so leave some suggestions! My request are open.♡♡♡

Please read the blog rules ♡

[faeyun]

okay hehe what is you guys dream eiffel tower?? mine personally is sunghoon and dev patel

[thesecretcornerintheroom]

Fulfillment ✨👑

Pairing: Gwainin x Black female reader

Warnings: Rated R for sure 18+, Breeding, praise kink

Word count: 1,506

The plot: Y/n is getting married to Gwanin and is expecting to have there special night of there marriage.

(This idea has been in my head for a while since I saw Green Knight Years ago)

“Well, it depends on who you ask”. My sister wrote, “Mom says sex is an obligation and isn’t supposed to feel pleasurable. She says it’s our duty as ladies of the house. Luckily, I have been in love with the man I was married to since childhood. Sex doesn't feel like an obligation, more so a…fulfillment”. I heard my sister's tone in the letter. I raised my eyebrow in curiosity. No wonder she has three kids and is pregnant with her fourth child. I sighed as I folded the letter and stuck it in my drawer. Today was the day I would be married and seal the deal. I was to be married to Gwainin, the mysterious, adventurous night from the Round Table. I know nothing of him besides that he went on an adventure, killed a monster, and came home a man. Others say I’m lucky, but his demeanor is cold. His eyes hold some emotion I cannot put my finger on. Once he came back and took over his father’s position, he was in line to be married. My mother, who runs the estate, ensured I would be in his view for marriage. My estate, the place I loved, my home with a lovely peony garden and air that smelled of old books and coffee, will no longer be mine. “Y/N, there you are. Stop daydreaming. We must make hast for the wedding.”

The wedding was quick. We exchanged I do’s, flowers were thrown, and the music was loud. People in the kingdom sang and celebrated our wedding with a joyous tune. How on earth were they happier than the bride and groom? I’ll never know. As I turn in my chair to look at him, his gaze never meets mine. It’s fixated on the crowd. His jaw tightens. His brown skin now darken from being in the sun. His wet curls cling to his face, and his brown eyes hold something in them: sadness, worry… pity. Does he pity me? Does he pity this marriage? I turn back to the crowd, and my heart tightens, tears threatening to fall.

As I walked into the room, it was dimly lit by a crackling fireplace and books scattered across the fire place, the floor it seems the noble dwells in his own fantasies like me.His bed was large taking up most of the room. Red sheets adorned it. The room was empty and had no life only a fire place brick walls and a desk. I turned as I heard the door crack. There he was, looking at me, his eyes still holding pity. “Must you stare?” his voice, stiff but deep, even though it was riddled with angst, was still soft. “Apologies,” I whispered as I looked away. He looked at me, soaking me in. I was in a loose silk nightgown. It hid my body. My hair was down, the curls framing my face. “Go lay down,” he said. My body was numb, and I couldn’t feel my feet as I moved to the bed. My hands made the connection to the bed as I crawled into it. My back meets with the soft sheets under me.

Nervous heart racing wonders what he shall do. He climbed into the bed with a book in hand. “Read this to me,” he said as he handed me the book. I felt his hand make contact with my hips as I shutter. He lowered himself beside me. His head lay gently on my stomach, his hand caressing my hip under the nightgown. Confused, I began to read the book. Isn’t this the night I do my obligation? He hasn’t acknowledged me the whole wedding, and now he’s lying in bed with me wanting me to read a book. Bewildered I began to read the words leaving my mouth; the more I read, the more I felt his face nuzzle into my stomach. His hand grabbed mine and placed it on his head; my fingers unstiffened as I played in his hair. He released a sigh.

Two weeks passed, and me and Gwanin have warmed up to each other. Random dates around the castle for onlookers to see as well as stroll through the village. His room which was on empty now filled with some of my belongings. We slowly built a routine for each other but every night. I read a book written by scholars as he listened and laid on my body as I laid as read captivating stories. Now, I was reading a new book, complete with poems. “In a lady's lair, her toys laid bare as she played with her garden. Her rose was rare, and her sweetness was unfair as she called for her lover to bear witness to her.” I gasped. This book is about sex the obligation I was told I would have to do eventually.“Where did you find such a thing?” I looked at Gwainin as he stared at the ceiling. “ I bought it off a paddler he said, his voice deep. The air was now stiff and warm. “Okay,” I said as I grabbed his face, my hand caressing his cheek. “I believe I am ready, but you must promise me to make this a fulfillment and not an obligation”. I looked into his eyes as he looked at mine. His eyes, though once cold, had turned warm over these weeks. His eyes lower to my lips, his hand wraps around my waist and my back as he pulls me quickly to him, his lips sink onto mine. A moan is released from my lips as he caresses his lips with mine, soft and gentle and caring. His tongue swiped across my bottom lip. I gasped at the spark that I felt his tongue enter, fighting for pleasure.

I moaned again as his hands began to untie the top of my gown. As he ripped it off my gown causing the button to pop, I looked at him again. His eyes are warm, and his smile is full of that. He went back in to kiss me. His hands made their way to my breast. His fingers caressing my nipples caused me to shudder, the feeling tingling down my spine as he kissed my neck, licking and nibbling and playing with my nipples. The gasp released from my mouth landed in the air like a moan as he played me on his back. He disposed of his pants he nodded as he looked at my body, his finger meeting my clit. Rubbing it so eagerly, a gasp climbed as my hand matched his rhythm. I brought him down to my lips to kiss me again, trying to subdue the feeling that was bubbling in me, his fingers rubbing me as I became wetter, pooling around my legs and on his sheets. An ocean you are, he bit out. He said, my eyes in Hayes's legs open, looking at him with full attention. His eyes were on mine. This may hurt. He grabbed his dick, and he rubbed up against my clit. Feeling his warmth caused me to hold his arms as he pushed inside of me. The feeling was intense, and the sting was interesting. I moaned. Wait, please be stopped immediately inside of me. My breath quickened as you wrapped your hands around his arms, which he held, still breathing heavily. I could feel everything. His breath quickened, his face flushed, his curl sticking to his face from the sweat gathering slowly. In a deep voice, he said, "I will go slow, slowly." “OK”, his eyes were looking at mine, trying to see if I wanted to stop. “OK”, I said with a breathy tone.his rhythm was slow and hypnotizing. This sting was soon replace by pleasure as I felt his thumb circling my clit. This feeling cause me to clinch on his dick I have never felt such a euphoric feeling. Moans escaped our mouths as we moved together. His hands grab my hips as they match the rhythm we set together. I could feel his member throbbing inside of me. He lowered himself, his lips latching onto my nipple, the sensation driving me wild. I didn’t even know you could do such a thing. As he began to move again, I felt something inside of me tighten and come undone. “Please”, I begged, “please.” My moan is coming out like sobs as my hand from the neck of his neck. He moaned, lips on my nipple, causing the vibration to drive me crazy. He released his lips from my nipples, making a popping sound almost there. He said his voice husky as he began to push in harder, holding my hips in place as I moaned, feeling his member starting to twitch. Not wanting this feeling to leave, I put my body clenched around him, my stomach tightening again as I fuck myself released from the pressure. As I was coming, I could feel him warm inside me, coming as well. Our almost matching each other. His pace was still steady as he moved his hips aside from me, my over, my sensitive body jolting at the feeling. As he kept pushing, I felt myself now, the sense of a feeling becoming too much. He pushed into me once more timeHe grunted I could fell his body tense as he released inside of me. Causing me Gasp in surprise. “Do you feel fulfilled now” he said, as I felt something drip from between my legs.

[imninahchan]

[#𝓕𝓮𝓶𝓓𝓸𝓶]⁺　　　　🍷 　　﹒﹒　　não revisado　♡

𝐃𝐄𝐕 ───── se submete naturalmente. Não é algo que vocês pararam pra refletir, ou desejavam desde que começaram a se relacionar, só... acontece. Ele pode ser aquele que te despe, te deita sobre a cama. Cujos beijinhos estalados estão sendo distribuídos do seu pescoço ao ventre, mas quando ele põe os olhos em ti — os olhos de luxúria — todo o controle que pareceu possuir se esvai no brilho das íris castanhas, das pupilas dilatadas. É automático, como a regência parece vaga, você acaba recebendo o poder nas palmas das mãos, e somente sendo muito tola para não aceitá-lo, não?

Não é sobre se aproveitar do estado de transe em que ele sempre se encontra quando teso, é saber agir no momento certo. Usa a pontinha dos dedos do pé para impedi-lo de te devorar entre as pernas de imediato, olha-o com carinho, a voz tem que soar mais baixa, mais manhosinha para poder orientá-lo, afinal ele é tão bonzinho pra ti, não há necessidade de dureza. Fala exatamente o que quer que o homem faça, cada detalhe; toque, lambida, sucção. Ele escuta e atende, não questiona. Apenas o fato de que vai sentir seu gosto se espalhando pelo paladar já é suficiente para acatar quaisquer que sejam as suas vontades. É porque gosta tanto do vaporzinho que ficam nos lábios e nos dedos molhados sempre que se aparta, da bagunça melada e dos sons que tremem na sua garganta, que diz para si mesmo que poderia ficar com o rosto ali até o maxilar magoar.

Talvez apaixonado seja o termo correto. Dev ama não só o que te faz perfeita pra ele por dentro, mas, claro, também por fora. Um sorriso estampa o canto do rosto ao te notar estremecendo, trêmula, a respiração desgovernada porque se desfez na língua dele mais de uma vez. E o sorriso dobra de tamanho se você diz pra ele que quer senti-lo, agora, dentro. Seja meticulosa novamente, pode exigir uma velocidade, ou o nível de profundidade. Vai te moldar ou a si próprio na posição que você deseja na cama, na sala, no banheiro, na cozinha...

Se considera sensível demais quando está mergulhado em ti, é estranho. Pode ser culpa do amor que sente, que acaba aflorando os sentidos, porque é como se entrasse num estado febril. Tão quentinho, bem abraçado, e se você pulsa, nossa, ele pulsa junto quase toca um pedacinho do céu. É uma tentação grande, para mais do que pode suportar. Embora servil e fiel à servitude, fica difícil não se deixar levar pela sensação. As mãos seguram no seu quadril e o foco se torna continuar prolongando, prolongando, acelerado, o prazer que se acumula, esquecendo completamente do pedido. Usa todo o cérebro, frágil e estúpido demais para racionar além do arquejar rouco. As têmporas suando, os olhos cerrados e a boca entreaberta. Você não se incomoda nesses momentos, é bonitinho de ver a ânsia o cegando — é quando te desobedece que mais se mostra submisso.

𝐒𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐍 ───── se submete dentro do lúdico que se faz o sexo. É uma grande performance, ele admitiu uma vez, mas não se deve atuar de verdade. Vocês brincam com certa frequência entre quatro paredes; nada que soa condenável, tudo que fuja o convencional. E de todas as possibilidades, confesse que essa é a última que se passou pela sua cabeça. Ele se porta territorial em demasia, seja na conversa ou no jeito de te segurar, e pela diferença de idade, não acreditou que fosse de dar tamanho crédito. Não poderia estar mais enganada.

Não é um homem de comer na palma da sua mão. Não diz palavras de serventia, ou fisicamente se coloca a um nível inferior. Pelo contrário, caçoa de todas as suas tentativas de tentar dominá-lo. Ri, despretensioso, o cigarro queimando entre os dedos enquanto assiste o salto fininho deslizando pelo peito dele até repousar perto da braguilha da calça. É complacente com falsidade quando te escuta dizer você é meu, porque sabe que o pronome possessivo, sozinho, não te dá o poder que você espera. E esperar é justamente a questão aqui.

Deixa ele te guiar, te morder e virar do avesso. Deixa ele cansar, fazer a sua pele arder. A caça é sobre paciência. Observe-o respirando pesado. Corra os dedos pelos fios grisalhos, monte sobre o corpo estirado. Ele está mais mansinho, não? O oceano dos olhos cintilam de volúpia. Aproveite que Swann gosta de se divertir e traga a diversão materializada no silicone transparente para a cama. Banhe no seu mel ou no artificial disponível na garrafinha antes de, bem alinhadinha, se empurrar pra dentro.

Os olhos dele se cerram, os lábios separam mas não te oferece um lamúrio vulnerável. A postura sisuda permanece até quando a dinâmica está invertida. Mas é isso que deixa o momento satisfatório. Capta a face madura, as linhas de expressão, e se regozija por ser você, com toda sua existência fresca, aquela quem está arruinando-o. Ele te encara de volta, como um rei que não abandona o trono. Não é uma competição, entretanto. Não está interessado em te derrotar o que há de viril em ti, pois, caso contrário, jamais conseguiria provar do deleite que o momento proporciona.

Vai manchar o abdômen todinho com o gozo, os músculos formigando e a vista turva. Aceita as suas mordidinhas no pescoço de bom grado, acariciando a sua lombar. É do lúdico que se faz o sexo, por isso o bom humor não abandona o vocabulário masculino nem quando mal tem fôlego pós orgasmo — “Você faz direitinho, mas vou te ensinar a meter melhor.”

⠀⠀

𝐌𝐈𝐊𝐄 ───── se submete porque existe contento em ser usado. Usar, um verbo que soa agressivo, porém aqui é sinônimo de “utilidade”. Desde que o conheceu ele sempre se pôs verbalmente inferior. As declarações de serventia respaldam-se no olhar caído, nos ombros encolhidos e nas mãos escondidas pra dentro do bolso. Foi conquistada sem demora, feito formiga cegamente atraída pelo torrão de açúcar. Ele segue os seus passos, imita as suas reações, não como uma sombra irritante, mas como um súdito aguardando a oportunidade de ser útil.

Deixou clara as intenções: faça o que quiser comigo e na hora que quiser. Por isso, não há sensação mais gostosa senão a adrenalina que corre as veias ao ser acordado de madrugada pelo esfregar do meio das suas pernas na coxa dele. O colchão afunda conforme o seu joelho se escora para que possa montar no colo do garoto. Um sorrisinho cresce de lado, grogue de sono. Te oferece justamente o que te excita nele: os murmúrios quebradinhos, ronronando, o sexo teso e farto, prontinho para te abarrotar. Ele mesmo descansa as costas das mãos na cama, antes que você o prenda os pulsos.

Te olha. As suas expressões de prazer são o que dão vida à existência masculina. Emula a forma com que os seus lábios se entreabrem quando o seu quadril desliza pra baixo e guarda cada centímetro. O sorriso vai aumentando, absorto, enquanto assiste o seu torso vibrar, o choque na virilha dele se tornar mais audível. Saliva, tomado pela sensação de que está sendo ignorado diante das suas pálpebras cerradas. O peito aperta, sem fôlego. Da garganta, se não decorada pelo seu toque ríspido, ecoam os ecos do deleite que desfruta. Cheio de manha, incapaz de se calar mesmo ao deslizar dos seus dedos pelos lábios dele, se afundando pra dentro da boca. Chupa, lambuza de saliva quente. Transmite pra língua habilidosa a sordidez de tudo que se passa pela mente.

De praxe, não se importaria se você apenas se aliviasse e tornasse a dormir. No entanto, mais aprazível é para ambos se o rapaz não se segura, jorrando primeiro, fraco, e, maldosa como pode ser, você não cessa a velocidade apesar da sensibilidade masculina ser gritante. O sorrisinho fácil dele se torna uma risadinha quase de escárnio. Ri da própria fragilidade, da maneira com que os músculos adormecem e até a pontinha dos dedos está formigando. Não leva a sério o vazio nos ouvidos, ou os espasmos do corpo. Se você parasse agora, ele te sobrecarregaria com soluços incessantes até que continuasse o compasso que detinha anteriormente. Use-o. Use. Use. Use.

Quando dói é quando fica mais gostoso. Quando você o aperta no interior é quando sabe que está sendo prestativo. Só termine depois do ápice — o seu ápice. Mas não se esqueça de reconhecer os sacrifícios do seu servo: pode mordê-lo pelos ombros, acertar um tapa na bochechinha até deixá-la rosada ou derramar um filete de saliva entre os lábios separados. Tanto faz, você escolhe os mimos e você escolhe as palavras; bom garoto.

[spikershoyo]

morning light | Kid x GN!reader x Sita | fluff | mild suggestiveness

warnings, tags, and notes: mild suggestiveness, kissing, mentions of violence, this is purely self-indulgent and for everyone at the dev patel hive, this is a poly fic don't like it don't read it, if I missed anything please feel free to let me know! @ashsimpsalot MY OFFERING TO YOU BABE

You're reluctant to open your eyes as the sun shines through the window, a gentle reminder that you have to leave the house for work.

But how could you?

You had everything you needed at your side. Well, more like everyone you needed.

Sita was curled up into your chest, her arms wrapped around you while Kid's slithered under you, his other arm draped over both of you. You felt at ease, feeling both of your lovers so close to you.

But that ease is short-lived, seeing that time kept ticking and you needed to head to work.

As quietly as possible you slide out of their grasp and look over both of them, they seem so at peace. It was as if they weren't running away and knocking on your door just a month prior.

You hoped they never had to go through that again. Sita's rose gold dress still hangs over your hamper. Kid's suit was tucked away into a plastic bag in your dresser. The evidence of Queenie's blood along with Baba Shaktie's and Rana's was all over their clothes from that night. It was the only remaining thing tying them back to the violence.

You think about how they looked at your doorstep, both of them shaking because of different reasons. Fear and adrenaline. You could see it in their eyes.

But you don't dwell on that thought, instead opting to head to your bathroom and shower.

At the sound of water running Kid's eyes open slowly, noticing you are no longer in bed with them. It takes him a moment to wake up fully and he relaxes, pulling Sita closer to his chest and hoping you come out before she wakes.

His hands run through her long dark hair, fingers playing with the strands and twirling them. She still smells like roses. Kid smiles at the thought of his girls, his cheeks getting hot. Whether an hour or 15 minutes pass by, he doesn't know, but you're out of the shower and in your work clothes.

He smiles softly when you catch his eye, you seem more awake when you notice he's up. You walk over and sit at the edge of the bed, smiling at the sight of Sita still asleep and curled into Kid's chest.

"Good morning, darling." You whisper and kiss his lips gently. He eases into the kiss and reaches for you, bringing you closer and making you lean down. He was always so needy, especially on the mornings you had work. "Morning." He whispers back, entranced with you already.

Sita stirs softly but you both don't pay mind, too focused on each other. Kid reaches for your waist and you have to force yourself out of his hold because if you didn't you were definitely not going to work that day.

Sita's eyes flutter open, seeing how both of his lovers were in a heated makeout session. She wanted in. "Wow, I see how it is." She whispers, a teasing lilt to her voice. Both of your eyes tear away from each other and fall onto her, the unexpected attention makes her curl into herself but she smiles. You sit on the bed and beckon her over, Sita eagerly shuffles closer to you and kisses up your neck, her customary wakeup routine for you.

You hum and run your hands through her hair then slowly inch under her sleep shirt and rub her back. "How's my girl?" Your voice rings through her ears and she almost purrs, feeling how Kid's eyes run over both of you. Kid looks into your eyes and you see how his gaze begs for both of you.

"I'm great," Sita answers, her hands now running down your arms. The temptation to undress you is a lot for both Kid and Sita, wanting you back in bed. "I'm doing really great." She hums, and her kisses never stop even as she feels Kid's hands snake around her hips.

If only it excites her more. You're just as tempted to ditch work until you see what time it is. Your eyes widen and you cup her cheeks, pressing a kiss to her lips and reaching for Kid's hands and squeezing them. "I need to go." You chuckle, seeing as they are a bit stunned.

Kid fights back a whine, wanting to just pull you down and for him and Sita to have fun with you. Yet he understands that you have more people to take care of since they can't head outside yet, their faces all over the news.

"Fine. But come here for a sec." Sita smiles, leaning in to kiss you one more time. Kid is eager for a kiss as well, you can tell. You give him one and run your hand over his cheek.

"You two behave while I'm gone, yeah?" They share a look, one that says we won't. But you know better.