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neoculturetravesty · 3 years

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The waiting game

Image taken from here.

Pairing: Kun x Reader Genre: smut, pwp, it’s literally just filth with a tiny bit of fluff at the end. Warnings: 18+, Daddy Kun, sub reader, daddy/ddlg kink, praise kink, bondage (handcuffs and ankle restraints), fingering, overstimulation with a vibrator, orgasm denial, anal plug, humiliation, spanking, unprotected sex, squirting, facial, fluffy aftercare. Word Count: 3.2k words of the most pwp I’ve ever written. There is no plot whatsoever.

Summary: “Will my baby be okay to bend over like this for a while?” you hear him ask behind you. You turn your head just a little to reply “Yes, Daddy.”

A/N: Kind of wanted to write some absurdist, slightly unrealistic, fantastical, pornographic smut. And it so happened that Kun ended up becoming the vehicle for this piece.

“Daddy, please…” you look up at Kun, fat tears rolling down your cheeks as you whimper.

“I know, baby, I know.” He takes your face in his hands and wipes away at your tears with the pads of his thumbs. He leans in and gives you a healing, nurturing kiss. “Daddy knows you can take it. Daddy knows you’re his brave girl.”

You whimper and your eyebrows knit together as you look up at him to sob. You’re pretty sure you look anything but brave... you probably look like the most pathetic girl to ever exist. But you can’t keep your composure any longer and you suppose that is what Kun wanted. He wanted to strip you bare so you weren’t hiding from him. So you were showing him your true self, your most vulnerable self, your most naked self.

It’s why he had put you in this position for what you’re sure has been an hour. On all fours on a table top, panties pulled down to your thighs, a vibrator attached to your pussy, a shiny pink butt plug inserted in your ass. Your tits were just covered enough by a barely there camisole that said ‘Daddy’s Princess’ across the chest in bright pink letters. Each of your ankles was tied to the corresponding leg of the table. Erotic handcuffs with black leather straps were binding your delicate wrists like bracelets. Your back was beautifully arched and your chest was risen tall because that’s how Kun liked it.

“My princess looks so pretty like this.” He had complimented when he had finished his handiwork and stepped back to look at you. But it was getting harder and harder to stay pretty for him. The vibrator bound to your pussy was buzzing at an agonizing pace--not moving any slower to give you a break, not moving any faster to give you relief. You had, at one point, ground your hips against it to get some variation in friction and you think you must have lost your posture in doing so because it had resulted in Kun giving powerful smacks to your bare ass which made the plug jolt inside you, making you see stars.

Now your ass was red and hot as you struggled to keep your back arched.

“Press down to absorb the pleasure, princess. Make yourself pretty for Daddy.” Kun had taught you and that’s what you had been trying to do for the past few minutes. But now it was getting to be too much. The slow, tormenting buzzing on your core was making it drip embarrassingly. You were pretty sure your pussy had engorged to maybe twice it’s usual size. Plus, any time you clenched and unclenched around the plug; it made lubricant ooze out of you, because Kun had used way too much and asked you to hold it in like a good girl. You couldn’t see it, but you felt the mess your holes were creating. The only upside was that Kun had placed soft pillows beneath your hands and knees.

You felt vulnerable like this. Wearing a barely there shirt, with your panties pulled down to your thighs. Maybe you would’ve felt less humiliated if Kun had simply taken them all the way off. But you were so exposed and your need was building but not being fulfilled. You were so sexually frustrated and so fucking needy that it was making you cry. But Kun kept stalking your body. Circling around as if you were a lab experiment he was studying, as if he was taking notes on how your body was reacting to each sensation. Every now and then, he would press his palm to the small of your back to put you back in his desired state. Or he’d wiggle and smoothen your panties so they laid smooth and stretched around your thighs. He’d fix your top when all your squirming had made it ride over your tits. He’d push the butt plug back in if you had pushed it out. When would he stop? You didn’t know and it drove you crazy. Maybe that’s what he wanted. To break you down bit by bit through this waiting game. To get to the deepest parts of you that no man had ever seen. To get you to show your true submissive self where you would want nothing else but your Daddy for relief.

Right now, though, he was by your head and he wasn’t fixing you anymore. All his attention was on calming you. When you let out a wail and cry so much that your chest heaves, he presses a long, lingering kiss to your forehead and says,

“Just a bit longer, baby girl. You’re doing so well.” He takes your face in his hands and looks at you with nurturing eyes. But it only makes you look back and cry to him.

“Daddy, pleasseeee… I can’t take this any more! I need to come!” you are barely able to word it out between your sobs.

Kun sighs and grabs a stool and adjusts its height so he is at level with your face when he sits. He takes your face in his hands once more.

“Kiss Daddy to take your mind off of it, princess. But if you want it to stop, you’ll have to say your color.”

You think about it for a moment. You had come this far. Your pussy was aching and sensitive and your asshole was swollen. Your back was aching a bit and the makeup you had spent nearly an hour doing was probably spoiled. You’re pretty sure the mascara is streaked around your eyes from all the crying. Your hair was probably messy, too, because Kun had grabbed it at one point. But you had come this far. Kun had never been one to hold back his rewards if you’d pleased him in these waiting challenges. And those rewards were always so toe-curlingly bountiful that they made every moment of sexual agony worth it.

So you end up kissing him though the decision makes you sob into the kiss, like you knew you that you yourself had chosen the torture whereas Kun had offered you a way out. You’re sniffling as you absorb the slow torment in your pussy and Kun kisses you deep. He swirls his tongue in your mouth till you’re drooling down your chin but he doesn’t care. He loved all your messes. He loved that he made you this way: leaking and drooling and crying and submissive. His perfect little princess.

“You’ve made Daddy so proud today, princess.” he coos into the kiss. “Will you be a good girl and stay very still while he undoes everything?”

You nod furiously, your sobs dying down to obedient sniffles as the hope of relief runs through your body. You can feel the mess of tears, mascara and drool on your face, but you don’t seem to care. Kun had already seen the worst of you. No, he had pulled it out of you because that’s what he wanted. That’s what your man wanted.

The man in question walks around to the back of the table now and finally turns the vibrator off. You let out a high pitched, shaky sound of relief, although you don’t feel relieved in any way. You just feel even more sexually frustrated because Kun is taking his time wiping the vibrator off and wrapping the cord and putting it back in it’s right place. Sometimes, you hated his fucking perfectionist guts. Then he methodically undoes the binds around your ankles and you exhale as the circulation returns when you move them around. You place your chest down on the table for a breather when he moves his attention to the huge plug in your ass. He holds it gently and though you know he’s going to be as careful as ever to take it out, you still find yourself gripping onto the edge of the table and holding your breath. But the pain does not come because he twists and turns it so gently, you barely even feel it and only notice it’s absence when the lube starts dripping more freely out of your hole.

You feel his warm, soft kisses on your ass. “My baby did so well.” he praises and you feel your heart soar. All this pain was worth it if you got to hear him talk like that. Then you find him holding you by the waist and sliding you to the edge of the table, holding your legs and helping you find your footing till you are bent over like he wants.

“Will my baby be okay to bend over like this for a while?” you hear him ask behind you.

You turn your head just a little to reply “Yes, Daddy.”

“Good girl.” he pats your bum before you hear the telltale sounds of him undoing his belt and pulling his zipper down. These sounds worked on you like the sounds of bells worked on Pavlov’s dogs. Because you find your pussy dripping for him almost immediately. You move the pillows under your chest and place your cheek on the cool surface of the table as you wait for him to take you. Your wrists are still bound by the handcuffs and it makes you feel so bloody submissive that for a while, you’re happy your pussy is dripping so shamelessly for Kun. You wonder if he likes the mess he’s made between your legs.

But that smugness is chased right away when he pushes his cock inside of you and you’re moaning out in no time. He fucks into you so your mound presses into the edge of the table over and over and your moans become more gurgled.

“Your cock feels so good, Daddy!” you mewl desperately and it works because it encourages him to go faster and soon, your chest is lifting off the table because the pressure in your abdomen is building and building.

Kun grabs your hair and lifts you off the table and hugs your body to him, into his chest. He fucks you like this, standing up and moans in your ear.

“My baby is so good for me. My princess is so good for her Daddy.” He tells you and you think you’re going to burst, so you tell him.

“Daddy, I need to come!”

“No, baby.” He replies and pulls out of you so quickly that you lose your balance and double over the table, breathing out of your mouth erratically.

“Daddyyyy!” you whine with your entire body at the betrayal.

“Come here.” He invites as he takes a seat on his favorite armchair. Your panties are still around your thighs and you know he wants you to keep them there. So you waddle your way to him, all your pride be damned. He cups your ass right away and helps you get on his lap, looping your bound wrists around his neck as you straddle him.

“My pretty baby.” he says as he looks up to kiss you. “Does my baby want to come?”

You nod and your face contorts again and you don’t realize that your frown has turned into a sob “Please, Daddy…” you beg.

He kisses your shoulder. “Shhh. It’s okay, baby. Daddy’s got you.”

He brings both hands between your legs from behind and pushes down your panties that have ridden up and goes straight for your pussy. His hands rub soothing strokes on the entirety of it, almost like he’s massaging you. Both his hands spread your lips apart then his fingers press against your flesh.

“My good girl…” he coos when he sinks two fingers into your hole while the other hand keeps holding you open for him. He begins pumping and you whimper in his lap, saying ‘Daddy’ over and over like an incantation. But then he curls his fingers inside of you and starts pumping up strongly and you know you’re going to burst soon. You unloop your arms from around him so you can push against his chest.

“Daddy, I think I’m going to squirt.” you warn desperately, worriedly.

He kisses you “It’s okay, baby girl, you can squirt,” he assures you.

“Can I get off you, Daddy? I don’t want to make a mess on you.” you bring both hands to your pussy now, covering because you’re not sure how much longer you can hold out before you have an accident on his pants.

But he uses his free hand to grab your bound wrists and loop them around his neck again. “It’s okay, baby. Daddy’s got you. You can squirt right here.” He kisses your cheek caringly.

“Can I take my panties off, Daddy? I don’t want to make them dirty.” you have no idea why you’re so self-conscious about your messes when your face probably looks like one anyway.

“It’s okay, baby. Daddy doesn’t mind if you come in your panties or on his pants. Daddy wants you to come like this, on his lap where you’re safe.” he wraps one arm firmly around the middle of your back while the fingers of the other hand pump with precision because he knows exactly how to make you explode.

You know you have no choice. You’re whimpering in frustration but you have nowhere to go but his arms. It’s what he wants. He wants you coming undone without hiding from him. And you know it’s bad because your hips are hovering off of his lap, trying to get away from all the pleasure and pressure in your pussy. You bury your face in his neck and wail till your voice strains before it cuts off. And before you know it, you are raining down all over him.

“That’s it, baby girl. Just let go for your Daddy. Let it all out.” He’s rubbing your back, nurturing, which is in striking contrast to what his other hand is doing inside your pussy. You’re embarrassed beyond belief because the squirt is falling onto Kun with a splattering sound and you regret lifting off of him. But you can’t really think because your entire body is convulsing and if he wasn’t holding you, you would’ve fallen off already. When you still, he holds you close, rubbing his hands up and down your back, pressing kisses to your forehead.

“Are you sure you let it all out, baby girl?” He asks, bringing a hand back to your pussy and sinking a finger into your hole as if to confirm.

“I think so, Daddy.” you say meekly into his neck.

“Stand up so Daddy can check.” He says and you almost groan because you don’t want to stand up. You just want to go limp in his arms and never move ever again in your life.

But nothing good even comes out of defying Kun so you’re up on your feet, supporting yourself with your bound hands on his shoulder. Your pussy is right in front of him like this and he furrows his eyebrows, pushing his fingers inside of you and inspecting you with an almost clinical concentration. When you moan out, he nods like he’s confirmed something.

“I think you can come one more time.” he turns you so you’re standing sideways to him. He brings one hand from behind, under your legs and into your hole, while his other hand splays over your lower abdomen, pressing as if to squeeze anything that’s left out of you. Your toes curl as you moan restlessly because you weren’t sure you could, but once Kun had decided he wanted something, he almost always got it. You let out dry, frustrated sobs and he looks up at you.

“Baby girl. Concentrate and come.” he scolds and he reaches with his thumb to rub circles on your clit as well. You stand there whimpering, moaning, giving into your boyfriend’s desires and soon, you find your body convulsing once again. Kun has to hold you tighter by the pussy because you’re doubling over as your orgasm hits. Soon, he has pulled you into his lap once more, making you sit on his thigh as he kisses you.

“Good girl.” He kisses your lips while his hand goes between your legs to soothe over your aching pussy. “That’s my good girl.” he says in between kisses and you smile lazily because you’re happy you pleased him.

“Is my good girl going to take Daddy’s cum on her face?” he asks lovingly as he gently pulls your panties up and puts them snugly in place, covering you.

“Yes, Daddy.” You say, in a soft, almost sleepy voice. You were spent.

Kun kisses your temple, tender and long. “Get on your knees for me, baby girl. Take Daddy’s cum all over your pretty face.”

“Yes, Daddy.” you say sweetly as you get on your knees and look up into his eyes from below, like the loving submissive that you were. And he stands up and unzips himself more so he can take his cock in his hands and look at you adoringly as he pumps himself. You rub your palms over his thighs to help him along and soon his breaths have turned to moans and his moans have turned to grunts and he is coming all over your face, hitting your cheek, your forehead, your lips, your eyes. It clings onto your eyelashes; some of it even lands on your hair. You squeeze your eyes shut and keep them closed, staying very still as Kun holds the top of your head and strokes every last drop out onto your face.

He stands back panting “Fuckkk, you look so fucking gorgeous, baby.” he breathes out and you smile gently without opening your eyes.

“Stay like that.” you hear after a while and then feel his thumbs swipe carefully over and between your eyelids. “Open.” he says and you blink your eyes open but soon realize that he meant your mouth because he’s scooping all the cum off your face with his thumb and feeding it to you. You oblige because when he’s done, he kisses you deeply in gratitude.

He walks away for a while and you stay there on your knees, wrists bound, spent to the bone, feeling like your legs have turned to jelly. So you lay your head on the seat of Kun’s chair so you can doze off just like that but he’s back before you’re totally gone. He’s undoing the handcuffs and kissing the skin of your wrists when it is exposed. He is lifting your shirt off of you and your panties and scooping your naked body in his arms and carrying you till he’s placed you in a hot bath. He bathes you thoroughly, massages your scalp when he shampoos your hair, then dries you off and anoints your pussy with soothing balms when he’s done. Then he puts you in one of his shirts that hangs to your thighs like a dress and then pulls you into his arms and tucks the covers around you so you’re snug into him, warm and comfortable and safe.

You feel so good that you decide that you would make breakfast for him in the morning just to thank him for being the best boyfriend in the world. But like all mornings, he beats you to it and you wake to breakfast in bed.

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elenamiria · 4 years

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A False Marriage

Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader

Rating: PG-13 Summary: On a recon mission you and Obi-Wan must pretend to be a married couple. This brings feelings to light that neither of you realized were there. Written for @sugared-strawberrys who was a winner of my 600 follower giveaway! I hope you enjoy this, I absolutely loved writing it. It turned out really soft and I hope you don't mind 🥰 Also I really can’t help myself with the tropes in this one haha oops. And this is the inspiration for the dress reader wears in this. Word Count: 3.2k Warnings: Tension, kissing, mentions of sexual situations, fem reader, talks about braided hair and putting hair in an updo Tags: @crazycatladyjenga @oneirnaut , @a-dorin , @blxwjobsforclones, @lynnie51 @katrynec @mistermiraclee @theelvenvalkyrie , @ifvckedurmom Masterlist & Obi-Wan Kenobi Masterlist

You had tried to hide the terse look on your face as you sat next to Obi-Wan on your transport to a high class gala on Alderaan for your mission, but unfortunately you were never good at holding you expressions in check. You would have felt much more comfortable in your A-wing than the civilian ship you and your mission partner were travelling in.

A short sigh left your mouth as you tried not to worry yourself about the mission, after all there wasn't much you could do to change your circumstances. Your brief noise caught the attention of Obi-Wan and he tilted his head towards you, taking in your tense features. A small smile covered his lips as he quipped, "Come now, it's not as if you actually had to marry me."

You rolled your eyes at his statement and shot a facetious glare his way, "Not everything is about you Master Kenobi."

Settling back into your seat you allowed your eyes to slide to the window in front of you watching space pass by. Though you could certainly see why he would think your little huff was directed at him considering you had been less than pleased at your mission partner when in the mission debrief. It wasn't that you lacked respect for the Jedi General in fact you held him in the highest regard. However, your perfectionist nature and the fact that Obi-Wan seemed to be naturally gifted in most things he did led to a fiercely competitive friendship through the both of your lives. In truth you weren't really upset that you had been paired with him, the frustration stemmed mainly from within and your worry that you would make a fool of yourself in front of the esteemed Jedi next to you.

Apparently you missed his reply, lost in your own thoughts, and you were startled from your racing thoughts by a call of your name. Turning abruptly you met his genuinely concerned gaze and you blinked blankly at him for a second until he prompted, "Are you are alright?"

This time your huff was directed towards him and you narrowed your eyes in annoyance, this was just like him to question you like that. You knew he was truly just wanting to ensure there was nothing wrong but the part of your brain that enjoyed pushing his buttons seemed to take over as you muttered, "Fine. Just thinking about how I have to pretend that I, your wife, let you keep your hair like that."

Obi-Wan's mouth parted and a rather indignant noise flew from him before he glared back at you, one hand subconsciously tugging at the end of his long locks, "Yes, well at least you don't have to deal with a partner who's recon missions tend to go as well as falling into a sarlacc pit goes."

An audible gasp flew from you as you spun towards him, your face heating in anger, and you spit out, "You're lucky I don't have my lightsaber on me Kenobi!" A smirk covered his lips and you knew whatever was coming next would only serve to further provoke you. Your thoughts were proven absolutely correct as Obi-Wan smugly questioned, "I think rather it's you who's lucky that your weapon isn't on you as we both know how embarrassing it would be for me to best you after that little quip."

Having known Obi-Wan for so long you could pretty easily predict what was going to come out of his mouth and this time you were ready. You let out a short laugh before retorting, "I'd only hope that you'd grant me the small mercy of knocking me out so I don't have to listen to you prattle on anymore." "My dear it seems that would be the most beneficial option for both of us." Came Kenobi's smooth reply. Crossing your arms and sinking further down into your seat you snapped back a short 'fine' and allowed the space craft to fall into silence. It remained that way for majority of the few hours left in flight, the quiet only disturbed by the occasional question as you went over the mission plans again. The mission in question was to find out if a high ranking Alderaan official was secretly pushing a separatist agenda - something that Bail Organa's wife had become suspicious of. You had questioned why this wasn't simply a solo mission and much to your displeasure had found out that this man had a penchant for married women it seemed, thus here the two of you were.

Thanks to your rigorous study of the mission details it didn't seem all that long until you were arriving on Alderaan and being escorted to your room within the royal palace. When you arrived you barely had time to take in your surroundings before Obi-Wan was softly muttering that he would get ready first and you could make yourself comfortable. He quickly retreated to the bathroom of the luxurious accommodations and you took a moment to take a look around. Though the room was grand it was decorated minimally, not that it mattered when a large window gave a stunning view of the snowy topped mountains.

You took a long breath to soak in the beauty that you didn't often get to see within the bustling confines of the city before turning and setting your bags down. One bag was dedicated solely to the gown you were supposed to wear tonight - a truly impressive dress that made you feel like royalty and at the same time completely out of your element. Pulling it gently out of the bag you laid it across the couch, ensuring there were minimal wrinkles. Satisfied you let your eyes roam the room and then you settled your gaze on the bed in the room. Blinking for a few seconds your head quickly turned to look around the rest of the room as if you could will a second bed into existence. A deep exhale left your mouth as you pinched the bridge of your nose already deciding that you would offer to let Obi-Wan take the bed, after all you had been the one to pick a fight with him on the ship, it seemed the least you could do.

Settling on the couch next to your dress you pulled out a small mirror and began to undo the tight braids your hair was in to hopefully save you some time in the bathroom. It wasn't often that you wore your hair down and your could feel your scalp thanking you as you lightly massaged any sore spots. You weren't sure how much time had passed, once again allowing your thoughts and worries about the mission consume your thoughts despite your best efforts to simply relax, and you startled slightly when the refresher door slid open. Obi-Wan strolled out dressed in a similar style to Bail Organa and you wondered if perhaps the senator hadn't lent him some of his clothing. Though all thoughts flew from your head as he passed the window and the sun caught on his cheekbones, highlighting his skin and lighting up his brilliant blue eyes. You could have sworn time slowed down as he offered you a gentle smile and your breath caught in your throat as you tried to regain some of your sense. It was only after a few moments that you noticed he had trimmed his hair, where the curls had fallen just past his shoulders they now just brushed them. Had he done that because of your snarky statement? Your brow furrowed slightly as you questioned why you were so caught up in his appearance in the first place and the moment was broken by your gaze snapping to the floor.

Obi-Wan's gaze lingered on you, a slight frown covering his face as he wondered if he had somehow upset you when you quickly gathered your belongings and practically fled into the bathroom. A small noise distracted him from your retreating form and he bent down to pick up the fake engagement and wedding rings you had been given to wear. Standing he turned to call out to you but as the refresher door slid shut he simply held onto them, figuring he could give you them before the two of you left for the gala.

Staring into the mirror you sighed deeply, shaking your head. The only reason you were distracted by Obi-Wan's appearance was because of your nerves about the mission you had decided. Nothing more and nothing less. You had certainly never looked at Obi-Wan in that light before - though there were all the times when you found yourself captivated by his grace in combat and how his......no you definitely had never seen him like this before.

Focusing back to the task at hand you applied your makeup and finished putting your hair into a simple updo, one that you had done before and that was elegant and yet functional at keeping your hair out of your face. And then came the dress. You disrobed rather quickly, folding your clothes into a neat pile, and stepped into the dress. Pulling it on you could admit that it truly was a beautiful dress though as your arms slid into the small off the shoulder sleeves you could tell that there was no practicality in the dress. Your arms seemed to fit into the sleeves a bit snugly and thus your movement was quite severely limited, an issue you found when attempting to reach back and lace the back of the dress. After several futile attempts you hung your head in defeat, taking a deep breath before calling out for your Jedi partner. You waited several seconds before calling out again, this time hearing several hurried footsteps before you heard your name come from the opposite side of the door. Sighing you gave in and as quietly as you could manage (while still ensuring he could hear you) asked, "Will you please come help me?"

The door slid open and you stubbornly stared at the counter as your face heated in embarrassment, "I just- I can't get the laces and I'm not really even sure how they're supposed to go. Please don't laugh, I know I look completely ridiculous and I-"

You were cut off by a soft, calming call of your name and then you felt Obi-Wan's fingers brush at your back, gathering the laces. His gentle tone caught you off guard yet again and you stilled, chancing a glance in the mirror. Blue eyes caught yours and the serious look on his face had you freezing where you stood. Deftly he laced up the back, tugging and pulling as lightly as he could, only breaking eye contact for a few moments at a time. His sureness had you feeling more calm by the second and when he finished, tucking the laces in between the layers of your dress, his gentle smile brought you back to reality. Turning your face heated for an entirely different reason as you realized how close you were, gaze dropping to the floor again.

A warm hand captured your left hand and gently raised it, calloused fingers brushing softly over yours. Looking up at him in confusion you were met with a mischievous grin and his opposite hand procured the rings you were supposed to be wearing. You let out a small laugh as you relaxed completely in his grip, "Looks like I'm not getting out of this marriage am I Obi-Wan?"

"Most certainly not my dear." A smile crossed your face as he slid the rings onto your finger delicately. Your other hand rose to run through the hair at the nape of his neck as you questioned, "Did you cut your hair for me?"

General Kenobi tensed slightly at your question and as your eyes met his a light pink dusted his cheeks. That was answer enough for you and an airy laugh fell from your lips, "Thank you darling, it looks wonderful."

Purposefully you drawled out the pet name in an attempt at his accent. There was a pause and the Obi-Wan let out an equally as bright laugh before he squeezed your hand, "Well I'm glad you think so. However, I do believe it is time for us to head to the gala."

As if sensing your nerves about to spike Obi spoke again in a teasing lilt, "And you don't look ridiculous, you truly look absolutely ravishing."

With that he swept out of the room, leaving you to pick your jaw up off of the floor and your hands smoothed down your dress before you followed after him - an air of confidence overtaking you.

The two of you arrived shortly after the gala had began, a steady flow of officials and ambassadors filling the room. Swallowing you took a step closer to Obi-Wan and a comforting hand met your lower back. Sharp eyes scanned the room as the two of you searched for the target.

"I don't see him." You said lowly and Obi-Wan nodded in agreement, "Nor I. While we wait would your prefer to mingle with others, dance or should we make ourselves known at the bar?"

You opted for the last option, as it offered a solid vantage point of everyone entering and having a small drink never hurt. Courteously Obi-Wan guided you through the crowds and even pulled out your seat for you, ensuring you were sat comfortably before taking his own seat next to you. Ordering quickly your partner slid around on the stool to face outwards and you turned to face him, your thighs brushing together lightly.

The contact had you taking a healthy swallow of your drink once it arrived and then you distracted yourself by keeping an eye out on the entrance. A warm palm settled on your knee and a shock shot up your spine causing you to nearly choke on your drink. Glancing at Obi-Wan you noticed his eyes trailing someone. A look towards his eyeline confirmed that he had located the target, who in a stroke of good fortune was heading directly towards the bar. Deciding it would be best to play up your false marriage you softly called out for Obi-Wan's attention, which was promptly given. You inhaled deeply as you made eye contact and whispered, "Do you trust me?"

Obi's eyes searched yours as he nodded and surely stated 'of course'. That gave you the courage to lean forwards, left hand coming up to cup his face, and connect your lips together. The Jedi jolted and froze for a split-second before responding to the kiss more eagerly than you had anticipated. His lips were soft and warm, moving in tandem with yours, and when his hand slid up to your thigh a small nip on your lower lip had you melting into him. In the moment everything faded away - the mission, the crowd surrounding you, the cacophony of sound - it was only you and him, that's all that mattered. His other hand rose to cup your hand on the side of his face and he gave it a soft squeeze as he parted from you, a warmth gleaming in his eyes that hadn't been there before.

You felt your face heating as he gave you a sparkling smile, you pulled back slightly but he kept your hand clasped in his. A brush of his lips against the tips of his fingers sparked something in your lower stomach and you had to suppress a gasp as he then pressed a kiss to your palm, lips trailing to the pulse point on your wrist. As his lips made contact you swore you forgot how to breath, his cerulean eyes locked with yours as your lips parted in a silent exhale. With that gentle touch he slowly rose, brushed a stray hair off of your cheek, and bent to your level. Beard tickling at your cheek he whispered to you, "He's directly behind you, I think we peaked his interest darling."

Standing up to his full height again he made it clear that he would be right back before pressing a kiss to your forehead, seemingly leaving you alone with the target, your heart racing from the intimate touches. You knew that he wasn't going far, the banquet hall in the palace had secret eavesdropping locations hidden behind screens and you knew he would be retreating to one of those.

Spinning to face the bar again you caught the bartenders attention to order another drink and a gruff voice spoke up from next to you that he would be paying for your drink. A false smile coated your face as you turned to thank him and you made sure to show off the ring on your left hand as you finished the first drink. As the man gave you a smug smile you knew you had him exactly where you wanted him.

He turned out to be a ridiculously easy mark, caring more about impressing a stranger who he thought he could fuck than keeping his mouth shut about his views. It was only after you got the information you needed to relay to Senator Organa that Obi-Wan swooped back in. His arm sliding around your waist and he pulled you close to him had the stranger grumbling as the two of you excused yourselves. To keep up appearances you made your way around the ballroom once before sneaking out. You weren't going to lie the two drinks had you speaking a bit more freely than normal which led to several bouts of unrestrained laughter from the two of you as you made your way back to your quarters, Obi-Wan’s arm never leaving the comfortable way he had it wrapped around your waist.

When you reached the doors Obi-Wan hesitated and you tilted your head at him in confusion. There was a pause before he spoke, "I know throughout our years we've both strived to best each other and given that you are a fierce competitor I wouldn't have it any other way. However, I enjoyed tonight and how easy it was with you."

You simply smiled and entwined your hands, pulling him into your quarters for the night. Once the door slid shut you pulled him into another soft kiss, this time it was short and sweet, leaving a tender smile on both of your faces.

It seemed there were many unspoken things left to be said but for tonight as the two of you lay on opposite sides of the bed (both of you had refused to let the other sleep on the couch) nothing else needed to be said. It wasn't long before you had rolled over and scooted close to the center with Obi-Wan following shortly after. As he wrapped you up in a cozy embrace you nuzzled into his chest, sleep nearly overtaking you but you couldn't let him go to sleep without a teasing reminder of, "I hope you know this won't make me go easy on you when we spar. I'll still have no problem beating you." A chuckle rumbled in Obi-Wan's chest as he muttered something that suspiciously sounded like 'you can certainly try'.

#obi wan kenobi x reader #obi wan kenobi x you #obi wan kenobi x y/n #star wars fanfiction #reader insert #obi wan kenobi #obi-wan x reader #obi-wan x you #obi wan x y/n

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kizardofkoz · 3 years

Text

Muscle

It was a little over a year ago and we were visiting with our best friends over Labor Day weekend. I was still in my first year of new baby, knee deep in first-year-baby-love and my all too familiar struggle of *bouncing back* (which has Never been my actual experience. It’s more like a slow rolling on the ground mixed with some crying, disgust, guilt, disgust at my guilt and guilty about my disgust, very slow muscle gain and trying to figure out how many WW points are in the scones I just made - because friends, I make a mean scone) and I was just feeling so irritated with where I was compared to where I wanted to be. Our friends looked so lean, healthy, toned -and I?

I was jealous.

I felt soft and annoyed. While I was grateful that I carried a baby for the fourth time, I was So. Over. Losing. *The Baby Weight*.

They said the only real change they had made in their lifestyle was that they had been running. (They also only have half as many children and are in a different life stage with their ages, but we’re focusing on the health portion here.)

And so.

I began running.

100% it was born out of a competitive desire to look and feel better and become a runner. But I actually found a part of me that I lost during quarantine, and the several year pattern of having and raising baby boys.

I would leave my house for 30-60 minutes, put on a podcast that scared me (it was early fall when this love affair really began to take hold and I would listen to Spooked! - holy crap, it is absolutely terrifying. So I would throw in some true crime, just to shake up my amygdala) and as the weather started to cool and leaves started to turn, I found my alone time, running the streets of my neighborhood.

And it was good.

Necessary.

Healing.

_______________________________________________________________________

I have had an interesting relationship with running and fitness my entire life. Exercise, up until this past year probably, was usually a punishment. A method to burn off the calories that I so painfully counted and tried to delete one way or another. (For several years -junior year of high school through sophomore year of college- that would involve sticking a finger down my throat, which is not a unique story for a teenage, American girl, yet it still feels quite vulnerable as I have never publicly mentioned it, like on this blog that has hundreds of thousands of followers. ;) I grew up sitting on a piano bench. I was never a super athletic kid (and was often told that) and things like running, and sports and physical coordination seemed like another realm that I would never know. So I would admire all of the athletic kids that looked so sinewy and strong and natural, and I would feel embarrassed and frustrated that God gave me the body that I had. I was grateful for my artsy, musical abilities, but in this culture, as a young woman especially, there is no greater skill or attribute, then to be small, smooth, and beautiful.

I am still trying to figure out how to undo parts of this thinking.

Stretched skin, years of confidence building, therapy and relearning that food is actually really delicious (who knew!) has helped tremendously. I wish I could hug younger me.

But she had to learn this on her own.

In her own way.

In her own time.

So at this time, as a matured 37 year old, I went into running differently. I would leave my house and find new paths that had more gradual hills because you don’t realize how hilly your neighborhood is until you try to run. Or ride a bike. Or in my case, walk a bike up a hill.

But I would also allow myself to slow down. To walk. For the first time in my life I listened to my body, and if she was tired, I walked. If she couldn’t breathe, I slowed down to catch my breath. And it changed everything. I built strength and avoided injury. I looked forward to my next run because I wasn’t too sore, and because once I had quit using running as a method of torture it actually started to become quite rewarding. My soul needed the exercise as much as my muscles.

Minus all of the true crime and ghost stories, it was kind of like prayer at times. Or some really bizarre, spooky therapy.

_______________________________________________________________________

Three weeks ago I had the absolute honor and life blessing of being able to attend a women’s retreat in Estes Park, CO. I flew there early on a Thursday morning to meet up with 20 women who I had never met to reconnect with a God that I was missing dearly and to find myself again.

Oh my gosh.

I can’t even explain the exact magic of that weekend and I actually won’t give away too many details because part of the retreats’ (there are two: a mens ones and they just began a women’s one last year) magic is the slight, secret-society-ish-ness of it, so a previous group won’t ruin the experience for those that follow.

But I felt so taken care of and loved. I have not had the time and space to release and let go the way I was able to. In years. Every meal was prepared and cleaned by a woman named Jess. Every activity was thoughtfully planned yet not overbooked. I didn’t have to make a decision, make breakfast or make a to-do list. My nervous system settled and my brain was clearer than I feel it has been in my adult life.

And my heart.

I didn’t realize how lethargic I had become in my own faith. Of course I love God and Jesus and my faith is the most important thing to me, but was I actively doing anything to strengthen and encourage it? Negative.

And this is where muscle comes in.

I have been running and conditioning my body over the past year to run miles, to handle hills, build my stamina and improve my pace. I have put in the work and time and my body is stronger. Muscle memory.

In Estes, I feel like I just went through a spiritual bootcamp. I received a megadose injection of peace, love, refinement, depth, stillness and Jesus. I can either keep going and try to maintain and strengthen this muscle, or I can become apathetic, put it off for tomorrow, make excuses that were never meant to be excuses and just not prioritize this thing that I claim is the most important thing to me.

Guys. (And gals!)

I did it.

I’m doing it.

I am actually carving out time each day (mostly) and I am keeping a prayer journal and reading from a devotional (I go between Shauna Neiquest’s “Savor” - thank you Meredith Hopping and Sarah Young’s “Jesus Calling”, thank you Mom), and I am Reading My Bible. (I’m a Message girl, which should not be surprising at all. The Poetry and FEELINGS!) And I am actually WANTING to read the bible. Like, I am finding it interesting and I actually kind of look forward to reading it the next day because I want to know what happens and not “I am reading this because I am Supposed to and because I have promised God since I was a child that I would read the whole thing and there’s no time like at age 37 to make good on a promise to Jehovah that I made as a 6 year old. That makes sense.”

I say all of these words NOT TO BRAG AT ALL BECAUSE NO NOPE NOPE NO NO, but to hopefully encourage others out there. (PS, I’m reading 1 Kings - if you’re Trump, that would be “One Kings”, I’m also praying for compassion and less judgment from myself. And that was the most compassionate way I could say that.:) I realized that just like with exercise, I often felt that if I didn’t have enough time to really sit down and read chapters of the bible, or have 10-15 minutes for a deep, thoughtful prayer, then it wasn’t worth giving God any time at all. I was being a perfectionist with my faith life and refused to not partake if it couldn’t be what I thought it would be. Or should be.

And I don’t really think God, in the end, gives a shit.

I think God wants any and all. God will take a 10 second, or 3 minutes or half hour long prayer. As long as it is authentic and humble and vulnerable because I think that is what God works with best and how we can refine and mature the most. I also think intentional longer prayers that include time to pause and listen (especially with the terrifying, faith building fear of But what if God doesn’t answer). God and I have always chatted throughout the day, but overall, I realized that I was getting in my own way with some twisted perfectionism, when all God wants is my truest, most imperfect self.

Along with this, I have also been much more gentle with myself. I skipped a day the other day. (And yesterday!) And this is okay. I wasn’t able to get it in and instead of shaming myself and feeling guilty, negative and embarrassed, I gave myself love. I let myself walk instead of run because there are busy days and hills and we aren’t made to run and dominate every single one of them every single time.

It is also important to note that I spent much of this weekend eating chips and birthday cake as it was our eldest’s first sleepover party. I stepped on the scale this morning and it was 2-3 pounds higher than it normally is. And you know what? I am actually okay. I am probably the most okay I have ever been in this situation and I am absolutely floored and comforted that I know God sees me and knows what I need. I know that in time I will get back to where I was, not with punishment but with mindfulness. And to stop eating the cake (it was so good though). And maybe ease off of the chips.

And to joyfully run.

God’s grace is so wild, and beautiful, and abundant.

I think I grew up with a bit of a childish, lopsided idea of God. I don’t know if it was my education, my church, my family or my own absorption and interpretation, but for a very, very long time I knew God was loving, but I also knew God was wrathful, jealous, vengeful and judgmental. After years of growth and exposing myself to other theologies, biblical philosophies, and finding my own spiritual and path, I have rediscovered Jesus and God in a whole new way. I have been reminded of, or relearned, God’s tenderness.

God’s Gentleness.

God’s Compassion.

And I truly think if we could remember these qualities first, and also use these qualities first as Christians - to one another, to ourselves, and to *gasp* non-Christians - the world would literally be a different place.

So.

I am going to continue building these muscles. I have worked really, really hard to get to where I am physically and I am really, really proud of it. I can run and keep up with my children, I have no idea what I could bench or deadlift but I can pick up our enormous <99% 1 year old multiple times each day and I feel like that in and of itself could be a really popular WOD. “The Kepler”: pick up 35 pounds 50 times and run across the house between each set of five. Then halfway through you change the laundry over as fast as you can and at the very end you realize you forgot to push start on the dryer.

Repeat as necessary.

And I am going to continue building my spiritual muscle. This looks like prayer time, bible reading, (I even installed a wall light so I can read in this special spot because we know that special spots are really important to Jesus.) and prioritizing this priority to me.

And this also looks like tenderness.

Gentleness.

Compassion.

Because even God knows we need a sabbath and sometimes the body just needs to rest.

The soul, too.

And I am learning to be gentle with myself. To love me and give grace to me even when I skip a day.

At least spiritually.

Because physically, I am still doing “The Kepler” daily.

Even more exhausting because my warm-up is “The Wyndsor”.

The charcuterie board that puts all other charcuterie boards to shame. Jess, a pilates instructor with a gift of hospitality, healthy cooking and presentation made us the most beautiful meals. And coffee. And wine. And pop corn. And fudge. I miss Jess.

I know what you’re thinking - *Now I see why they have 4 boys!* BECAUSE I LOOK SO DAMN GOOD IN OVERALLS!!

Just 20 something of my new dearest friends. I can’t wait to see them again next fall. So I can start crying every six sentences and zen out in all of God’s natural beauty coming through the landscape, the carved out time and the stories each of these women are carrying. Ready to drink around a fire with all of you again. I will try to stay up later this time. Maybe. (Who have I become??!) #Revel2021

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shewhowasbornlucky · 5 years

Text

Reckless

Summary: He does something reckless - he goes after her.

“Did he propose?”

“I suppose he tried,” if she was startled by the prince’s sudden appearance, she did not show. Turning to face him, she bows. “My prince.”

“Lady Kumiko,” he greets her with a nod and offers his arm. She accepted it with reverence and warm fingers and allows herself to be guided to the gardens. After having heard Captain Zheng, she needed air. Her head is spinning.

The two walk in silence, trying to get away from prying glances and the murmur of court. There was a celebration inside. Inside, where they are Crown Prince Iroh and a simple noblewoman. Inside, where their chains and their roles are suffocating. Where a bride and a heartbroken man are waiting for them, their souls in their hands, the weight of their promises heavy.

“I have the pleasure of knowing Captain Zheng,” he offers with a side glance at her, once they are away from the crowd and possible curious ears. “He is a good man.”

“That he is,” she concedes, careful not to give too much away. This game is getting old, though, and the pain in her heart makes it almost unbearable, no matter how much comfort and joy she finds speaking to him. “He told me he seeks to slay a dragon. He is certain that would bring me in.”

“Not an easy feat, but one he might be able to perform," he says, and then he looks at her, all mischief. It is during those small moments she finds herself lacking the energy to protest, to fight his advances. To suppress her own feelings. "The dragon, I mean.”

“The dragon,” she repeats, a small smile on her lips. “Why would anyone want to kill such a wonderful creature?”

“Are you not interested in marrying a powerful warrior? Captain Zheng is loyal to his nation.”

“If only he knew loyalty to his women,” she says with a roll of her eyes and a teasing smile. Iroh feels the punch but makes an attempt not to react. He is loyal to the woman he loves, even if said woman is not the lady waiting for his return, a princess that already owns the title.

Pursing her lips, she sighs. “If I ever marry, it will be for love,” she says, already in a reverie that leaves him wanting nothing more than being a part of. It lasts a few moments, though, and before he can say anything, Iroh feels her eyes burning on him, awaiting a response. He finds it difficult to speak.

A warrior and a prince should never be at a loss of words, yet he has found himself more and more speechless whenever she is around. The picture of royal eloquence. His father would send his tutors away if he saw him like this.

If he ever learned about his heir's treason, that is.

Clearing his throat, he says, “not all of us can presume such an honor.”

“And what a shame that is,” she sounds honest, and it is that honesty and warmth that are his undoing. She seems to catch on the meaning of her words, probably slipped before she could filter them, and quickly adds, cheeks as red as a cherry, “b-besides…I really can’t do so until my sister Seina marries as well. There is little sense in me encouraging his advances if no such thing will come out of it.”

He hums low in his throat. That might suppose a problem in the future, if he ever decides to go that way.

If he ever can.

This night, however, he finds he couldn’t care less about his future. Iroh, Crown Prince of the Fire Nation and famous perfectionist, allows himself to let go. He does so by taking her hand in his.

“I heard Lady Ming Ming is going to join court soon,” Lady Kumiko whispers in the night, but Iroh does not give her the pleasure of letting her hand go. She feels angry at her relief.

“She will. She was expected to arrive in two days, but she...”

“Your wedding must not be far,” she says, forcing a smile. Iroh knows what a smile looks like on her, and he is not fooled by her courageous act. It makes him ache.“You must be happy. You’re a lucky man,” she says, and finds relief on the way her voice does not break, even though the pain in her heart makes it unbearable. “I have heard she is wonderful.”

“I am," he simply whispers, and it is weak and hollow.

The crickets sing, under the moonlight there is no reason to look for words. She feels this must be a farewell, but he is not so ready yet. He holds on tighter, and she feels she can kill the man that dares take them apart. Fire Lord or not.

“Would you care for a ride?”

She startles, as the comfortable silence had already stretched between them. Her eyes are curious as they study the prince besides her. “Where to?”

He can’t help but smile. “The sky,” he says, with a nonchalant movement of his hand.

She laughs at this, and the sound reminds him of bells in an empty hall. “Do firebenders have mastered the art of flying?” she asks, an eyebrow raised.

“Though we have… Who says I was the one doing the flying?”

“Iroh…?” she frowns.

“Follow me,” his voice is gentle as he takes her hand. Her hand is smaller, and much colder than his. The contrast is welcomed, and he can’t help but feel the need to caress with his thumb, to hold on tighter.

The creature lies over some rocks, yellow eyes gleaming in the darkness. It seems to look upon the Caldera like a mother would look upon her children. The scales move slightly every time the dragon takes a breath, iridescent under the moonlight. Kumiko observes having lost the conscience of just how indignant it is her surprise, but she could care less. The creature in front of her is majestic.

“Dear Agni, this can’t…”

“Don’t be frightened. Den here is a darling.”

“I’m not scared,” she whispered, her eyes locked on those of the dragon, who seems to study her. She hopes she is found worthy, though she knows not why. “Den,” she pronounces, tasting the way it flows from her mouth. The dragon seems to nod, as if it could understand her. As if it were the only creature on Earth capable of that. Its citrine eyes remind her of someone she trusts deeply, and she finds she is no longer afraid.

If she had doubts magic existed before, she is sure of it now.

“Come up with me, Kumiko,” Iroh calls from above Den, and Kumiko is surprised she did not see when he mounted it. The dragon is just that fascinating.

Without room for second thoughts, she nods. Accepting Iroh’s strong hand she climbs the dragon, feeling the strength of its scales pressing into her legs. She caresses them, marveled.

“We are going to die,” she murmurs, but she finds that she does not care. She could die right there and then, and she’d do so with a smile on her face. She holds on tight, feeling the warmth of his back burning on her chest.

“Nothing’s going to happen to you if you don't let go,” he says, and she feels the vibrations of his voice touching her like a caress.

“Are you sure?”

“Do you trust me?” He asks, his clear eyes intent on her, waiting. She wets her lips, already knowing the answer.

“I hope I don’t regret this,” she whispers, and the mortified tone of her voice actually gains her a chuckle.

“You won’t.”

And with that, they took flight.

For a bit, her screams pierce the sky, echoed by his laughter.

“Hold on tight!”

“I’m already doing it!”

“Then nothing’s gonna happen to you!”

Her hair flies in the sky, and he swears he can smell the roses she bathes in, and the wind carries his laughter and his wanting.

She feels she can touch the stars, and nothing matters anymore, for at least up there she is free and loved, and what else is there to wish?

#iroh #atla #iroh's wife #my writing #royal family week

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