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buckyalpine · 1 month

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18+ AF Minors dni. Just a lil smutty thought with a scene I imagined. Bucky finds out Tony updated the security system for the compound and upgraded all the cameras to HD quality.

"So what you're saying is that footage would've recorded everything in the kitchen from morning to evening and the middle of the night...everything?" Bucky shuffled by Tony's desk after everyone had left the briefing about the latest Stark tech. Everyone's phones w

"Yes grandpa, that's how a security system works" Tony snorted while Bucky hummed, his mind still wandering.

"Yeah but....everything..in full detail? Including sound?"

"Yes, why, what are you doing in the kitchen" He cocked his head in confusion while the super soldier gave him a blank stare, only blinking twice in response, his cheeks growing redder with each passing second.

"Oh"

"OH"

Bucky scrambled out of the room, leaving behind a cackling Tony, his fingers desperately tapping his phone to unlock and check the security archives. He locked himself in his room, his stomach already churning when he saw the date of the video still very much accessible, dragging his finger to find the exact time-

"FUCK Sergeant!!" Bucky nearly flung the phone, quickly lowering the volume of the video, your loud, slutty moans and fucked out face clear as day. "P-please Sergeant, harder!"

"That's it baby, tell your soldier how you want to get fucked, beg for it"

What had started off as wholesome date night had turned into something else by the time Bucky had you alone in the compound. He'd struggled to keep his hand to himself all night with the dress you were wearing and it didn't help that the waiter at dinner shamelessly flirted with you the entire time. You didn't entertain it but it didn't stop the former assassin from growing jealous, itching to remind you who you belonged to by the end of the night.

You'd gone by the kitchen to grab a glass of water and the sight of you leaning over the counter to fill your cup was enough to break Bucky's resolve. His bedroom could wait.

"Princess" Bucky swallowed thickly hearing his voice dripping with possessiveness, watching himself cage you against the counter, purring in your ear. He could see you shiver as his lips trail up the column of your neck, preening as he licked your skin, pressing his achingly hard erection against your ass.

"B-Bucky" You whimpered, squeaking at the spank he gave you, clicking his tongue.

"Try again, baby"

"Sergeant Barnes" Your voice melted into a moan as he hummed, taking his time slipping your dress up over your hips to give himself a perfect view of your lacy covered cunt.

Bucky fully intended on deleting the video. He was going to highlight the section and get rid of it for good. He desperately tried to ignore the way his cock stirred the longer he watched, unable to tear his eyes off the way you were bent over the kitchen counter like such a good girl, waiting for him to do something.

"That's right. Your Sergeant" The clink of his belt hitting the floor made you whine. He wasn't interested in prepping you, no foreplay, this was pure possessiveness, every vein in his body itching to own you. "You're a little slut for your Sergeant, aren't you princess?"

"M'your slut" you nodded, gasping at the tear of your panties, the lacy material tossed to the side.

"Let me show I fuck my slut" Bucky didn't give you a second to adjust, immediately setting a brutal pace, your hips bumping against the marble countertop.

"S-SERGEANT BAR-NES!-" Bucky slapped his hand over your mouth, your broken screams muffled against his palm.

"Take it" He growled, his other hand pressing against your shoulder blades, purely using you for his pleasure, "You love how your Sergeant fucks you, my perfect little slut, mine"

"Fuck Sergeant!!" You wailed while Bucky snaked his hand to circle your clit, his cock starting to leak at the way you tightened around him. You'd never looked prettier. Your makeup was ruined. Sweat covered your body. Your eyes rolled back. Bucky replayed that part of the video over and over again, finally giving into his heavy cock begging for attention. He gave himself a squeeze hoping it would calm him down but before he knew it, he'd pulled it out and started to tug, precum glistening at the head.

"That's it baby, tell your soldier how you want to get fucked, beg for it"

"Pleasepleaseplease-fill-me" you slurred, unable to form sentences while Bucky's grunts grw louder, his pace faltering.

"Gonna fill you up with so much cum, you'll feel me in your pussy for days princess" Bucky fucked you like an animal, eyes feral as he kept you caged under him, his heavy balls and hard cock ready to blow, "We'll go back to that restaurant. Have that same waiter try and talk to you while I drip out between your legs. Won't even let you wear panties baby, want you to make a mess on their chair, let them see where I marked you, fuck m'cumming!!"

Bucky tightly held the base of his cock to keep from cumming as he watched himself pump you full, hips stuttering. He couldn't cum yet. Not when he knew what was coming up next. He watched himself pull out of you, cooing at your soft little whimper before decidedly acting like a deranged feral fuck again.

"Shhh, let your Sergeant clean you up again" He smirked, picking you up with 0 effort and setting you down on the counter, spreading your legs apart so he could lick up every bit of cum that dripped out of you, the most salacious sounds filling the room. He greedily lapped and sucked at your clit, groaning at the tasted of his spend mixed with yours, loving that no other man would get to taste something so good. No other man would get to watch their cum drip out of you after filling you past the brim. No other man would get to have you at your most sensitive, cleaning every bit of their cum off you with their face buried between their legs-

"F-fuck" Bucky whimpered, quickly biting his lip to shut himself up but it was no use. His chest heaved, breathy moans growing louder as he jerked himself faster. "Yes, yeah, shit-" Bucky was nearly whining at this point, his hand working at his sensitive cockhead, giving himself quick, hard strokes, "OH FUCKK" Thick ropes of cum spilled from his cock, a steady stream making a mess all over his sheets as he continued to touch himself, rewinding the video to the beginning. His hard cock wasn't going to go away anytime soon.

Maybe he wouldn't delete the video just yet.

Later in the groupchat:

Tony: Everyone, please don't check the kitchen footage from two days ago at exactly 1:04 to 1:38

Sam: Why would I check that in the first place

Nat: Wasn't planning on it

Steve: I don't know how to access the footage.

Tony: Trust me. None of you should check that exact time stamp.

Tony: 🙂

*a few minutes later after everyone obviously checked the footage*

Nat: Holy shit.

Sam: BARNES YOU DIRTY DOG

Nat: That's hot

Steve: Tony, I still can't access the footage.

Sam: YALL ARE NASTY

Steve: Who is nasty?

Sam: I love it though

Y/n: 😏He's the best sergeant

Sam: HAHAHA

Nat: You guys are so cute 🥺️🥺️

Bucky: I hate you all

Sam: What you gonna do about it Sergeant

-Bucky has left the chat-

Steve: Why did Bucky leave

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ro-is-struggling · 9 months

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Self care || Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky always seemed interested in your skin care routine, so when one day he arrives tired and drained from a mission, you take the opportunity to show him the importance and benefits of self-care.

Warnings: established relationship, brief mention to Bucky’s past trauma, a fuck ton of fluff, my little knowledge of skin care lol

English is not my first language

Word count: 2200

Notes: this was inspired by a dream I had. I thought it was cute and I couldn't get it out of my head, so I wrote this little thing. If it doesn’t make sense, blame my dumb dreams lol

It was one of the first times you slept over at Bucky's place that you discovered he didn't have a skin care routine. He would look at you cleansing your face from the bathroom door, watching you apply creams and serums with a mixture of admiration and confusion in his expression. And every time you picked up a new product, he would ask you what it was and what did it do.

It didn't really surprise you, most of the men you had dated tended to use a small number of personal hygiene products and usually the facial skin was only treated with soap and water. And if that was men your age, it was to be expected that Bucky and his over one hundred years of age were not aware of the benefits of skin care.You found his reactions kind of adorable. It wasn't every day that you caught Bucky acting with the naïve curiosity of a child, and you couldn't help but laugh as you answered his endless questions.

"Please tell me you at least wear sunscreen." You said and Bucky remained silent. "Oh my God, Bucky!" you complained, explaining to him how dangerous the sun was for his skin.

"After all I've been through, I don't think a little sun is going to kill me, doll." He laughed, coming up to you to hug you from behind. You wrapped your arms around his, smiling at him in the mirror as he rested his chin on your shoulder.

The bastard knew how cute he was —looking at you through the mirror with blue eyes full of love—, and he was using it to his advantage to keep you from scolding him. He was probably right, the super soldier serum surely protected him from skin cancer in the same way it protected him from hits and falls that would be fatal to the rest of humanity. But still, it wouldn't hurt him to take care of himself a little every now and then.

"You smell nice." Bucky praised you, inhaling the subtle floral scent the creams had left on your skin. He gave you a kiss on the cheek, his stubble tickling your sensitive face. You laughed and he knew he had won.

"Don't think you're getting out of this so easily." you warned, tilting your head to the side so you could kiss him. "Flattery will get you nowhere!"

From that day on you decided that you would put together a skincare routine for Bucky. Super Soldier serum or not, everyone's skin needed a little help from time to time. And besides, you believed it was something that could benefit Bucky in more ways than just one. It would teach him to take better care of himself and to value the precious 'me time'. And god knew he needed that. So you made a mental note to buy a couple of products for him the next time you went to restock some of your kit and stopped thinking about it for a while.

That was until one day Bucky came home tired from a mission. You didn't quite know what he had to do and he didn't want to tell you much about it either when you asked him. Not knowing tore you apart, but you respected his wishes and didn't press the issue, deciding to help him in a way that wasn't invasive. You started with running him a bath, filling the tub with warm water and using some of your bath salts and lotions to create a more relaxing environment. You insisted on taking care of him, although Bucky didn't put up much resistance, surrendering to the soothing power of your caresses on his hair. Your fingers gently massaged his scalp, coating it with shampoo to remove all the dirt before rinsing it and repeating the process with conditioner.

He still found such intimacy a bit strange. Even though he enjoyed it, he still wasn't completely used to being cared for with the affection you showed him. It had been so long since anyone had treated him with such love and care that he could hardly remember it. But he felt safe in your hands, happy to have you in his life. A light of hope at the end of the dark tunnel of agony that had been his life. That was what you were to him. His second chance to live, to love. So he relaxed under your touch and let your gentle caresses take all the tiredness and worries out of his system.

But your pampering didn't end when Bucky got out of the tub. After he changed into his pajamas and laid down on his side of the bed, you emerged from the bathroom with a small white bag in your hands. You rested it on the nightstand and began pulling out various products he recognized from your skin care routine, arranging them in a nice neat line.

"Doll... what are you doing?" Bucky asked, looking at the pink cat-ear headband you held in your hands. It was the one you always wore when you did your makeup or skin care routine, a tool you used to keep your hair out of your face while you worked. He always thought you looked adorable when you used it, but he didn't understand why you were directing it at him this time.

"Taking care of you." You replied as if it were obvious, "I want to show you the benefits of having a good skin care routine." Bucky hesitated for a moment, but eventually gave in to your soft smile and the sparkle of enthusiasm in your eyes. There was nothing he could say no to if you looked at him that way.

He gave you a slight nod and you took that as a signal to continue. You climbed onto the bed, settling onto his lap with one leg on either side of him, so you could face him and work more comfortably. Bucky put his hands on your hips instinctively, the cold metal of his fingers giving you goose bumps at the unexpected touch. But you didn't move them, you liked his hands there.

"First we have to make sure your hair is out of the way." You announced as you placed the headband on his head, making sure no hair was out of place or near his face. You couldn't help but let out a giggle as you admired Bucky wearing the accessory. The pink, furry cat ears looked so out of place it was ridiculous. The clear feminine energy of the headband clashed against the distinctive masculine look on his expression in a fun and charming way. It made him look adorable if you were honest, especially when he smiled at you. He could definitely pull it off.

"How do I look?" Bucky asked, batting his eyelashes in an exaggerated fashion.

"Adorable." You replied between giggles, before giving him a quick peck on the lips.

When you broke apart, you began your skin care routine, taking a piece of cotton and your favorite micellar water to cleanse Bucky's skin. He looked at you closely, taking advantage of the position you were in to admire your beauty up close while you concentrated on soaking the cotton ball in the liquid. You were the most beautiful woman in the world, he was sure, and not only that, you were kind and loving too. A wonderful person all around and he still didn't understand how he had managed to get you by his side, but he was happy about it.

"Why do you have to clean my face? I just showered." Bucky mumbled with his eyes closed, feeling your delicate fingers on his chin as you ran wet cotton across his face.

You let out a giggle. "Water is not enough! And regular soap is too harsh on the skin of our face, so you need to use a cleanser or cream that is meant for the face."

"I never heard about that." Bucky frowned, tilting his head slightly to the side in confusion.

"Because you're a guy and guys are used to using one product for everything hygiene related."

“That’s not true!” he tried to defend himself, although he didn't sound very convinced.

You decided to skip a few steps in the routine to keep things simple. The idea was not only to pamper Bucky and help him relax, but also show him that maintaining a skin care routine didn't have to be complicated and could bring him many benefits. So you went straight to the eye cream, taking some with your ring finger and carefully applying it to the bags under his eyes.

"Stay still! You're gonna make me poke your eye if you move like that!"

"It already feels like you're poking my eye!"

"Don't be so dramatic!" You laughed, men really were cry babies. "Just close your eyes and trust me." Bucky grumbled, pouting. You planted a quick kiss on his lips, and that seemed to please him because he kept his eyes closed and stopped moving. Carefully, you spread the eye cream over his dark circles, giving his skin time to absorb the product before proceeding with the last step.

"What is that?" Bucky asked you curiously as you reached for the last tub in the line of products.

"It's a night cream. You're supposed to use it at night after you wash your face to keep your skin moisturized."

"Isn't that what the other cream did?"

"No, silly! That was just for your under eye area, this helps hydrate the rest of your face. We need to give back all the good things we got rid off when we cleaned your skin of all the dirt and oils clogging your pores."

Bucky made an annoyed face, muttering about how complicated it all sounded. But the truth was, he was enjoying the extra attention you were giving him. He had you all to himself, the warmth of your body enveloping him in a comforting embrace as your fingers gently massaged his face. He couldn't think of a better definition of paradise than that. Just the two of you sharing an intimate moment, far from the horrors of the outside world. He could commit to a skin care routine if it involved at least a third of the pampering you were giving him at that moment.

"You don't need to use much," you continued your explanation, dipping one of your fingertips into the cream before bringing it up to Bucky's face. "Just a little bit here, here, here... and here." You painted a couple of white dots on his cheeks, forehead and chin, kissing the tip of his nose before applying a bit of cream to the area. It was such a cute and intimate act he almost blushed.

The first thing Bucky noticed about the cream was the scent. It had a light rose fragrance that was familiar to him, comforting even. It traveled up his nostrils as you massaged the cream into his face, sparking a warm and fuzzy feeling inside him. It took him a few seconds to understand that it was because that was the same rose scent he recognized on your skin whenever he kissed you, that sweet floral scent he had learned to recognize as home. He finally knew he had your choice in moisturizer to thank for it.

"You're using your cream on me?"

"Yes, it's the only one I had. The perfume doesn't last long, don't worry. I'll buy you an unscented one tomorrow."

"No, don't! I like this one, it smells like you... it's like having a little piece of you with me all the time."

You didn't expect him to say that, so you weren't prepared for the tingling warmth of love that coursed through your body. The idea that he wanted to keep you close at all times, that he recognized your scent and found comfort and safety in it, made your heart melt with love. Bucky was normally a man of few words, and tended to show his feelings with other things rather than words. Acts of service were his most common way of showing how much he loved you, although he also resorted to spending quality time together whenever you had free time. But every once in a while, he would manage to drop a sentence like that, which in concise words made it clear how much he loved you. Always taking you by surprise, he would drop them at the most casual moments, leaving you completely stupid for a few seconds as you processed his words and wondered what you had done to deserve having someone so wonderful in your life.

Bucky gave you a shy smile, cheeks turning pink under your gaze, feeling exposed and vulnerable. He looked so adorable that you couldn't help but join your lips with his in a slow, loving kiss. He reciprocated immediately, one of his hands leaving your waist to cradle your cheek, pressing you tighter against him and deepening the kiss.

"I love you," you muttered against his lips, pressing your forehead against his as you gazed into his deep blue eyes.

Bucky smiled, feeling the last bit of stress evaporate from his system thanks to you and your sweetness. "I love you too."

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x fem reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x reader fluff #bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n

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goldenstring6123 · 2 months

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Lnds: The type of kiss they like or so they think...

Warning: for 16+ only, Suggestive, Mildly implicit, self-insert, gender neutral.

Author's notes: Here's my first Lnds post! There's many more to come so i'll be creating a masterlist once i make 3 hcs

If you ask Sylus:

He'll say he likes the deep, breathy kisses during your make-out session with him; you pressed against his bed or his sofa, sometimes on the counter, and him being in between your thighs. He likes it when he grabs your jaw and leads the kiss. He likes seeing you flustered, even more so: Teary-eyed and catching your breath, but in reality—he likes the quick, chaste peck you give him at random parts of the day. It always catches him off guard, be it a quick peck as a goodbye or a peck you give him after winning a plushie. To almost every chaste kiss you give, he'll freeze for a moment, like a deer caught in headlights, before watching you move along with your task as if the kiss was something spontaneous. It makes him feel like something…something pleasant, of course. Of course, he'll never admit that to you.

If you ask Zayne:

He says the kisses during quiet, intimate moments are the ones he likes most: kissing while you stroll the park late at night or passionate but brief kisses between shows. Sometimes, he also prefers kisses in public spaces. However, not necessarily the long, deep ones, but rather the kiss where you pull him down to kiss you, or he reels you up so you can reach his lips; the sort of kiss where you ignore everyone around you for a reasonable amount of time. And he believes he won't ever tell you this unless he gets maddeningly drunk, but he likes it when you kiss him when you're angry or when you're in a bit of a daring mood. Unbeknown to himself, he likes it when you play rough and take the lead when you give him orders and glare at him, sitting on his lap and forcing his mouth to open and make way for you. Whenever this happens, it is also a way for him to let off some steam from work— he knows he doesn't have to be gentle with you, especially with how rough you're kissing him by then.

If you ask Xavier:

He'll almost always say he likes the kisses he steals from you after eating something sweet and flavorful. He likes how you're taken off guard by him holding your wrist and licking your glossy lips from the lollipop you ate or that instance where a thin film of icing hung at the corner of your lips. He likes the taste of the food and you mingling together. Your blushing is a bonus as well. But between him and his favorite action figure, He likes it most when he backs you into a wall when he no longer acts meek & cute and turns into a sly little minx with you. He likes it when you don't realize you're being pressed against the wall with nowhere to go. When he towers over you and doesn't break eye contact, those rare moments are when you go silent at his off-character actions; He likes those moments, especially knowing what entails beyond the kisses he gives you shortly after he's done teasing.

If you ask rafayel:

He says, almost too confidently, that he likes the kisses where you compliment him soon afterward. Be it a short kiss or a long, deep French kiss, it doesn't matter if you say the right words to make him feel assured of himself and your relationship. "You're beautiful," "My little fishy," and "I love you" are always appreciated as they fuel his ego the most. Without realizing it, he likes a particular type of kiss, the kind of kiss where you leave him marks. The kiss during your steamy sessions where you nibble at his delicate skin in areas where it wasn't visible to the public. On his chest, back, or stomach, and if he allows it, on his neck. He likes it when you trail kisses on any part of his body. Still, he loses his mind when you leave marks, treating him like a canvas, which is pretty ironic considering he's supposed to be the artist.

Author footnotes: Kinky Xavi— i genuinely believe he's a super freaky guy beneath that doe eyed cutie. Layout by me, using canva premium | Do not repost | Dividers by cafekitsune

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bababaka · 1 year

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Yall need to interact with fanfiction author's more.

So. After the ddos attack on ao3.

I was encouraged to write more comments and make my love known to fanfic writers.

I dont really like commenting. Because im a bit shy and soooo lazy.

Now though. I am writing more comments. And dude. This is so heartwarming. Ya'll need to treat writers better. They are doing the lord's work.

Take for an example, couple of days prior, i was searching for something interesting to read, and found an oneshot quite compelling.

I read it. At the end of it, i was blown away by how good it was. It promised me something and it went beyond my expectations. But then i saw a crime, zero fucking comments!

At that moment, i wasn't feeling up to writing a comment. Because, normally i like to write huge paragraphs. But because im lazy i decided to be brief.

Next day, the author answered that the comment lift their mood for the whole day.

That warmed my heart.

Duuuuuuuude! Write comments! Suport the writers of the fics you like! No need to be something super elaborate. Just give your thoughts. Freak out. Ramble. Ask something. Make theories. Compliment. Make a joke about how you wished to give kudos every chapter but ao3 sucks(not true bby) and won't let you.

Truly. Just. Comment. It can make someone's day. And that is part of the apeal of writing fics. Interacting with people.

Just give love to fanfic writers yall. They deserve this and so much more.

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mariasont · 4 months

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Tie a Tie - S.R

a/n: i'm a slut for a good tie

masterlist

₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: spencer reid x bimbo!receptionist!reader

summary: you ask spencer to teach you how to tie a tie

warnings: cuties being cute!

wc: 1.2k

"How do you tie a tie?"

The question and the voice attached to it made Spencer do a double take, his pencil pausing mid-stroke. He directed he gaze upward, and there you were. Beside his desk. Looking angelic as ever.

Today, your hair was embellished with ribbons, pretty pink bows tied neatly above your two braids. It was cute.

You hardly visited at his desk, in fact, this might be the first time. He had always been the one to seek you out at your receptionist desk.

He realized the lapse in conversation had gone on longer than what social norms dictate. He cleared his throat and reached up to rub his neck, offering you sheepish yet attentive look.

"Do I have something on my face?" The question came with an uncharacteristic frown that didn't suit you. A shimmering nail reached up, brushing your cheek as he fought the urge to replace your hand with his.

"No, no sorry," he assured quickly, a sense of equilibrium returning as your mouth flipped into a bright smile. "Just--, you want to know how to tie a tie?"

His intention wasn't to question you, but he was curious. What did you need to know how to tie a tie for? The answer seemed clear, yet unwelcome, as he begrudgingly considered the possibility of a significant other in your life, leaving a sour taste in his mouth.

"Yes," you affirmed, nodding like one of those dashboard bobbleheads, sending your ribbons dancing. "There's this outfit on Pinterest that I wanted to recreate, but it needs a tie, and well, I immediately thought of you, Dr. Reid. You're the tie expert, after all. I know you're super busy, so it's totally okay if now isn't a good time, but maybe you could text me? Or write it down, or--"

The tension dissipated from his frame, and he interjected with a soft smile. "Yeah, no problem at all. I'll teach you," he said, rising to grab an empty chair. He placed it opposite his, motioning for you to take a seat. "And please, It's Spencer."

He doesn't know how many times he's told you that Dr. Reid sounded too formal coming from you.

"Oh, right, Spencer." They way his name rolled off your tongue sent a wave of warmth through him. You bit your lip, crossing one leg over the other, the tip of your kitten heel brushing his calve in the process. "Thank you so much. I tried to watch YouTube tutorials, but it wasn't really working out."

"It's no problem," he said, trying to keep his cool as his surveyed the vacant office, immensely grateful the team was out on a case, and he was left behind to work on documents.

It wasn't that he was embarrassed by you, he would be an idiot to feel that way. He was embarrassed by how utterly out of control he felt around you. "Uh, here--"

His hands moved with practiced ease, a brief hesitation passing before he placed it around your neck. Your smile was disarming, compelling him to avert his gaze to prevent any impulsive actions. Gently, he swept your hair aside at the nape of your neck, careful not to entangle it with the fabric.

Spencer's fingers stalled, suspended over the smooth silk encircling you. The awareness of your focused gaze was palpable, almost tangible.

"Okay," he started, his tone even despite the butterflies attacking at his stomach. "The first thing you need to do is cross the long end over the short end, like this."

He illustrated the motion, his hands lightly skimming over your collarbone, eliciting a soft giggle from the unexpected tickle.

"Like this?" you repeated, your tongue making a brief appearance against your pink stained lips, trying to follow his lead.

"Exactly," he confirmed with a nod, smile inching across his face. "Now you bring the long end up through the loop around your neck."

His touch was light on the fabric, his fingertips just grazing the skin below your ear, a reaction visible in the slight shiver that traveled over you, goosebumps taking over.

You watched his every move, your head tilting to the side, a lock of hair falling into your face. "And then?"

"Now, you fold it down through the knot you've just made." Spencer's voice was soft, almost a whisper, as he focused on the task at hand. "Pull it all the way though, and then adjust the tightness by holding the short end and sliding the knot up."

With his guidance, you managed to complete the knot. "I did it!"

The excitement in your eyes was infectious, and he felt the rosy hue take over his face, a blush he couldn't contain at the sight of you. His laughter spilled out in response.

"You're a quick learner." His hands remained on the tie, a touch too long, maybe.

The intrusive ring of his phone fractured the moment, like a glass dropping on hard ground. He glanced at the caller ID--Hotch, of course--and sighed.

"Sorry, I have to take this."

"It's okay. Thank you for the help, Spencer."

Spencer almost died the moment you entered the bullpen the next morning, almost toppling over and dying of asphyxiation because of how easily you took his breath away.

There you were, in what he could only deduce was the Pinterest inspired outfit, a pink tie neatly arranged around your neck, its tail slipped into the waistband of your skirt.

"Spencer, you forgot your tie yesterday," you called out, extending the forgotten piece of fabric with a smile.

A red akin to a ripe strawberry bloomed across Spencer's face as he watched Morgan and Prentiss freeze mid-step, exchanging knowing looks as they glanced between you two.

"Reid, what's this about a tie?"

Of course, Morgan was butting in, because it just wouldn't be a normal day of work if he wasn't.

"It's not--We didn't--," he faltered, his eyes meeting yours, finding an innocent cluelessness to the implications around them. Opting to dismiss the others, he focused on you, taking the tie with hands that weren't quite steady. "I mean, thank you."

You simply beamed at him.

"Do you like my outfit?" you asked, doing a little twirl that made the hem of your skirt flare out. He had to avert his eyes, knowing that the way he was looking you over would certainly not be perceived as innocent. "I got your text with the instructions. It was so sweet because I definitely did not remember everything you said yesterday. It gets kind of confusing with all the steps."

He was momentarily lost for words. "It's... you look... amazing."

Spencer was still fumbling for words when you stepped closer, the soft scent of your perfume wrapping around him.

"Well, it's all thanks to you."

Before he could respond, your rose onto the balls of your feet and planted a gentle kiss on his cheek. It was quick, innocent, but it left his knees feeling like they might buckle

As you pulled away, his skin tingled where your lips had been, and he stood there, utterly dumbstruck, his face a canvas painted with various shades of pink.

Morgan stared at him, his eyebrows raised in silent question, but Spencer didn't care. For a short moment, he didn't care about anything else--not the case files, not the teasing of his colleagues, not the world outside. There was only the warmth on his cheek and the sudden lightness in his chest.

He decided this was his new lucky tie.

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x bimbo reader #spencer reid x fem reader #spencer reid x receptionist #spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds #dr reid #reid #criminal minds fluff #Spotify

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chlorinecake · 3 months

Note

It's sad you haven't written that much for sunoo

𐙚 — 𝐜𝐫𝐲 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐭 | 𝐤.𝐬𝐧

▹ PAIRING: boyfriend ! sunoo x girlfriend ! reader

▹ SUMMARY: While on a picnic date with your boyfriend in honor of your one year anniversary together, things take an unexpected turn as one simple touch leads to another...

▹ WARNINGS: TOUCH DEPRIVED SUNOO who can't help but leave marks all over your neck and thighs, fluff mixed with super messy smut, fingering + oral (f. r), handjob, protected sex (love that for them), tit and spit play, exhibitionism, mentions of food

▹ WORD COUNT: 2.5k

“You brought ice cream to our picnic date in the summer?”

“Yes... and you wrote me a love letter,” Sunoo replied frankly, the gentle park breeze blowing his wavy bangs to the side of his face slightly... “of course I appreciate the gesture, baby, but why go through all that trouble of trying to hide it from me?”

His question made a memory resurface in the back of your mind.

One from earlier this morning when you threw a pillow at his face in an attempt to sneak away with the letter undetected.

Not one of your best moments, you'll admit, but he took it lightly anyways, laughing off the confusion your strange behavior brought about...

“You weren’t supposed to come back home til tomorrow, Sunoo, and I wanted to surprise you…” your voice trailed off just as your boyfriend rested his hand at your thigh, caressing the flesh in a soothing manner…

“I wanted to make it more special,” you went on, feeling your heart flutter slightly at the way he suddenly tilted his head at you, almost as if cooing at your worried confession.

“____… what could be more special than a letter with your sweet kisses all over it?” Sunoo asked, gaze falling to your lips for a second before his eyes flicked back up, displaying his comforting smile.

“Just open it already,” you whined playfully, making your boyfriend giggle a bit at your impatience.

“Wait, I wanna guess what’s inside first!” He paused excitedly, looking to the clouds as he sat in thought…

“Hmm,” Sunoo hummed, feeling through the envelope with his fingers to see if it'd give him any clues… “are these... condoms?!!”

“What!? No! Why would I give you such a thing!?” You laughed out loud, giving the park a brief scan to see if anyone was around to have heard your boyfriend's wild revelation.

“Relax, ____... nobody’s watching the romantic couple on their picnic date,” Sunoo reassured with a light-hearted chuckle, running his hand a little higher on your thigh this time, making your breath hitch slightly.

What was getting into him today?...

“Righttt... so it’s just us and the trees now, huh?” You asked sarcastically, just as a random hiker came walking up the trail a few feet behind you two.

“Yup!” Sunoo answered confidently, letting his touch leave your skin, “just us, the trees... and no protection…”

Tear ˎˊ˗ ...

Sunoo tore open the triangular flap that once sealed the envelope, opening the paper-pocket to reveal a set of tiny squares poking back at him…

“Wow,” his voice started, a feigned shock to his tone, “you must really wanna take me raw after this…”

“Oh my God, you’re being such a slut today,” you whisper-yelled, smacking his shoulder playfully before taking the envelope from his grasp, shaking out the contents into his open palm.

“They’re P o l a r o i d s,” you enunciated slowly, “of us, baby...” you continued with a smile, watching as he brought each photo to his face, one by one to examine them...

“Aww,” Sunoo pouted, feeling his own heart warm up at the burst of memories. “Thank you, love… this is such a sweet anniversary gift,” he said, leaning forward to hug you, his weight accidentally overtaking you to the point where your back fell against the picnic mat with a soft thud.

It wasn't unusual for Sunoo to underestimate his strength, especially whenever he got excited and wanted to show you his affection... still, it's something that he always felt bad about doing...

“____, I'm so sorry! I didn’t mean to...” your boyfriend's initially apologetic voice trailed off, all thanks to the mistakably erotic sound that slipped past your lips while caged beneath him.

“S-Sunoo… it's okay,” you stammered nervously, feeling his thigh brush up against your core as he adjusted him position, a small wet spot from your soaked panties now marking his jeans.

You couldn't think of anything to say, especially not with the way your sundress was hiked up now, putting your hips and bottom on full display.

Propping yourself up on your elbows, you were met with the wet sight yourself now, Sunoo’s flexed thigh doing nothing but make things worse for the ache growing inside you...

“T-that's not what I think it is... right?”

Your boyfriend's voice came out quietly as a delayed silence followed right after, his eyes staying fixed on you as you raised to sit on your knees now.

You put a hand to his chest, pushing his back against the picnic mat now before leaning on top of him and whispering, “Stop staring and just kiss me already…”

Sunoo almost couldn't believe those words had left your mouth so smoothly, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat with anticipation as his eyes fell back to your lips.

Your gorgeous, kissable lips...

“And if anyone sees us?” He asked with a slight rasp to his voice, eyes sparkling beneath the sunlight as you traced the side of his face with a finger...

“Then they can cry about it…”

That's all it took before you two started kissing, both of your eyes fluttering shut as gentle sounds of pleasure were exchanged by the tips of your tongues.

You felt one of his hands find the side of your face and drift down to your neck, his touch gripping just enough at your throat for the pressure to be noticeable, but not overwhelming.

“Been wanting to do this since we got here,” Sunoo groaned, a little weak yet heavy at the end as you broke away from the kiss, meeting his eyes with your own lovestruck ones as you noticed his touch wandered lower, pulling your sundress over the curve of your hips again, tugging at your panties.

“Wanna get these off of you so bad, baby,” your boyfriend said breathlessly, your legs wasted no time in moving just enough for him to slip your panties down and toss them.

“Much better,” you hummed, letting your lips find his again in an even more hungry kiss than before as you felt his fingers ghost over your folds, circling your clit in a way that had you twitching almost instantly.

Something about the way he kissed you in this moment was so raw and greedy, a bit of spit dribbling down the side of both your mouths, only for you two to take turns licking it back up with your tongues.

And he was gathering so much of your slick on his fingers, too, making your clit throb with need as he kept toying with it, your hips subconsciously rocking against his fingers as you grew closer and closer.

“You're making such a mess of me, Sunoo,” you said in between kissing him, his mouth traveling to your neck where he sucked even harder against your flesh, groaning against your skin.

“Can't help it when you taste so sweet, love,” is all he managed to say before rolling you over on your back and taking dominance again, your body being sprawled out face-up on the picnic mat as he started to pepper kisses down from your jaw, to your tits, before finally reaching your swollen cunt.

You couldn't help but close your thighs around his head, even though it was only a matter of time before he forced them open again, taking a break to finger your pussy while marking the expanse of your thighs, holding intense eye contact with you the entire time.

“Could play with your pussy all day, baby,” he mumbled against you, moving from your thigh to lick a stripe up the middle of your core, “might have to beg me to stop...”

“F-fuck,” you cried out, arching your back at the way your core trembled thanks to his skilled fingers curling inside you, “I'm so close, baby...”

“Yeah?” He asks breathlessly, looking you straight in the eye again while still fucking you with his digits, “gonna cream on my fingers, baby?... clench that pretty pussy as you cum for me?”

A string of desperate yes's spilled from your lips only to get caught in your throat, your teary eyes rolling to the back of your head as you felt yourself release from the inside out, shaking from the wave of pleasure that washed over you.

“That's it baby... let it all out,” Sunoo cooed, fingers not ceasing in fucking your hole until you reached your hand down to stop his wrist from moving.

Sunoo just stared at you for a second... and even though he knew you hated when he did that, he couldn't help it. You just looked so beautiful to him right now. Cheeks a flushed hue from your orgasm, covered in his marks from your chest to your thighs...

Using his free hand, Sunoo reach for the picnic basket, digging under a few things before pulling out a shiny gold package.

A condom.

“Babe, you... you planned this?” You asked with a glint of amusement to your voice, body still moving in slow-motion as you recovered from your first orgasm.

“Hey, don't judge me,” he smiled softly, tossing the condom in the middle of you two as he got started with unbuckling his pants, “you can put it on me, if you like...”

Timidly, you crawled towards your boyfriend on all fours, thankful to God that you didn't flinch once his dick sprung out from the confines of his boxers, nearly hitting you in the face given how hard it was.

Still, there was something about the subtle look of shock on your face that made Sunoo feel good about himself, reaching out a hand to caress your head as you tried opening the package with your nails.

“Just use your teeth, love,” Sunoo suggested, just as you took the plastic in your mouth, tearing it away with ease.

Pulling out the ring of rubber, you aligned it over his tip first, sliding it down in a stroking motion.

It doesn't take long before you have the whole condom slid down his shaft, but your ministrations don't stop there.

You kept pumping him in long, drawn out movements, experimenting with pressures and slightly escalating the speed with each stroke.

And it didn’t take long before he started moaning all loud and shamelessly, biting his lip with slightly screwed brows as you continued to jerk his cock in your hand, caressing his thigh with your free hand to help him relax.

“Sh-shit,” Sunoo cursed beneath his breath, eyes glued to the way you fisting his length, your hickey-stained cleavage coming into view as your sundress fell further down your shoulders with gravity.

The whole sight was just so intoxicating to him, especially coupled with the sensation of your fingers wrapped around him.

It was only a matter of time before you had him coming undone, filling the condom with his load as you started to stroke him more slowly now, somehow craving his dick even more.

He was a panting mess, pretty chest heaving beneath his shirt as you sat up on your knees now, crawling over to straddle his lap.

His lust-ridden eyes watched you the entire time, too, pants still lazily hanging around his thighs as you untied the bow keeping the top of your sundress together, revealing almost your full chest to him.

He didn’t hesitate to start groping your chest, squeezing the soft flesh in his hands as you humped against his lap, sliding your slick folds over his wrapped dick and shivering from the returned stimulation.

You moaned at his actions, clinging onto your boyfriend’s shirt at the sudden feeling of his tip prodding at your entrance.

“God, I need to be inside you so bad, ____... need to feel you taking me nice and slow...” Sunoo practically mewled against your lips, the desperation of words making your pussy clench around nothing.

You let your hips grind against his length even faster now, despite how you both were extremely sensitive at this point.

You didn’t expect one fleeting kiss to get you here… a slimy, moaning mess in your boyfriend's lap all in the middle of nature… but you were too far gone to turn back now, and besides… something about the risk of being caught like this was a turn on for you, anyways…

Reaching down for his dick, you let the head find your hole again before slowly feeling him slide past your ridged walls, shaky sighs coming from both your lips now…

You two stayed like that for a few moments, too, simply basking in each other’s closeness until you got ready to move, Sunoo’s delicate hands resting at your hips, eventually guiding your speed.

“S-Sunoo,” you started weakly, thighs trembling at the way his tip grazed your sweet spot as he rocked you back and forth against him, “we’re not gonna last very long in a state like this…”

Your sultry words sounded like fuzz in his brain for a second, his body being too pleasure drunk to focus on anything other than the way your perfect pussy was taking him.

You kept your hands secure at his shoulders, grinding against him the best your tired legs could manage as his lips connected to the skin below your ear, speaking the feathery words: “Might as well make it worth it, then…”

That's when your boyfriend let his back fall against the picnic mat, releasing his grip from your hips, only to find your hands instead, connecting you both by your latticed fingers.

His pelvis snapped up to help you both reach your highs faster, your chest heaving with emotions as you gasped at the feeling of his cock plunging inside you so well, a mere matter of seconds passing before your orgasms hit you both like a crashing wave.

Sweet mmm's and ahh's of pleasure left both your squirming bodies, Sunoo's thighs twitching beneath you as your walls clenched down on his length, your climax taking it's sweet time to leave you.

You felt his cum slowly fill up the condom from inside you, gentle pants escaping his swollen lips as your hands stayed intertwined, eyes slightly teary beneath the shining sun.

“I can't believe we just did that in public,” you sighed, lifting your hips from his to free yourself from the stimulation, helping yourself to removing the now filled rubber from your boyfriend's dick and tossing it in a picnic napkin.

Sunoo smiled at your choice of words before sitting back up to readjust his pants, still feeling a bit wobbly in his movements after everything that just happened.

“And I'm more than open to doing this again,” he said, crawling towards you on the mat to help re-tie the bow at the top of your dress, “… and again, and again, and again...”

“Okay, okay, I get it,” you chuckled with a smile, watching his hands finish up each bow before he creating a small distance between you, placing the picnic basket in the center of the mat and flipping open it's lid, his hair slightly disheveled as he asked, “In the mood for some ice cream soup?”

AUTHOR’S NOTE 𐙚 | To the anon at the very top of this post, I hope you enjoyed what I came up for with for everyone’s favorite sunny boy !! That is, if you ever happen to cross paths with my blog again >< !!

TAGLIST 𐙚 | @squoxle @nikisvanillaccola @ashgonedash @yourmomscuntis2tighy @wonbinisbabygurl @addictedtohobi @watamotee33 @ot7sevenlvr + link to my enhypen bookshelf if you’re interested !!

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sinsofsummers · 1 year

Text

push & pull

5.7k | din djarin x f!reader

summary: after convincing him to help you hide from the guild, you teach mando how to enjoy himself. this is the way. warnings: smut (duh), 18+, mdni. canon-typical violence, but otherwise it's super canon divergent. din is a touch-starved virgin, soft touches, lap-sitting, the helmet stays on, mask kink, din does lots of whimpering, experienced!reader, mutual masturbation, virginity loss (m), praise kink, creampie, brief aftercare at the end. note: look me in the eye and tell me he wouldn't crumble at the thought of skin-to-skin contact. yeah. you can't. anyways this is so long and so self-indulgent. pls forgive me. if mando takes his helmet off by the end of this, mind ur business this is sooooo not canon. note p.2: i'm so sorry this took so long but i was hungover. also this was not meant to be this long. so count this as a big fat thank you for 1.4k as well as my bday present to you guys (for my bday.) impaired editing i apologize.

With the light of both suns in your eyes, forcing you to blink the spots from your vision, you brushed a hand across your forehead. The dry, dusty atmosphere of Tatooine was no joke, and you scowled under the cloth you'd brought with you to cover your mouth and nose.

"Figures," you mumbled to yourself, looking down to see a small pile of sand building on the tops of your boots, the wind blowing it into place. "Why would anyone choose to live here?"

Of course, you weren't looking for a resident; you were looking for a fugitive. The infamous Mandalorion, no less. You'd been given less-than-satisfactory information on the bounty hunter and the reasons for such a high reward for his capture, but it wasn't like you had much choice than to accept the job. Despite what you told yourself, you did actually need the money.

That was before you'd figured out that everyone else in the Guild had been tasked with the same job, turning a high stakes bounty hunting gig into a near-definite suicide mission. Something you didn't want anything to do with.

But alas, here you stood, practically sinking into the hot Tatooine desert. You had to keep shifting your weight to keep at least one foot above the surface. You never knew when you'd have to make a quick getaway. There were still a handful of Guild members left that presented a challenge to collecting your bounty, and of course they were the most dangerous ones.

You kicked a foot forward and watched the sand shift, cursing the trouble that was inevitably on its way. You'd managed to bribe your way to Tatooine, where the Mandalorian was apparently hiding from the Guild. And if you had found the Mandalorian, there was almost no possibility that the others hadn't found him.

Because, if you were being honest with yourself—the one task you excelled in—being a bounty hunter wasn't exactly something you were good at. In fact, you were far from it. With luck and just enough anxiety to keep your feet moving, you'd floundered your way through three years in the Guild, searching for a way out just as quickly as you'd begged for a way in.

So you'd gotten yourself into this mess. Wasn't that how it normally went, though? Quick decision-making skills weren't necessarily a blessing if the decisions you made would determine your chances of living past thirty (spoiler: the chances were significantly slimmer).

You rubbed the dust out of your eyes once more and saw some movement in the distance, the subtle glint of beskar blinking toward you as it reflected the sunlight. Gotcha, you murmured inwardly. The Mandalorian was here, and you were going to get him. Not to turn him in, no; you held no loyalty to the Guild and its cult-like policies.

This job was an escape mission. If he could stay hidden, maybe he had room for one more. You'd cut a deal.

There had to be something you could offer him, if not your skills in combat, or stealth, or—

Or simply human mobility, you groaned inwardly as you felt your ankle roll underneath you, the sand softer than you'd anticipated. It'll be a good day when I leave this damn place.

—

It was a wonder that the two of you had survived. You'd hardly gotten the chance to give your proposal before he was aiming his blaster at you, and then at the Guild members that showed up in droves behind you. It was all you could do to get out of the way, knowing you'd be hopeless in the fight.

Now, with their bodies scattered around your feet, the Mandalorian standing a few feet from you with his chest heaving, and his beloved ship somehow still functional, you had your chance.

"You're not...very good at this," he said, the helmet masking his voice in a way that made it scratch along the insides of your ears as it traveled to your brain. "You do know that?" he asked, but it sounded more like an accidental insult than a real question.

You threw your hands up, letting them fall heavily to your sides. "Yeah, I told you that," you scoffed. "That's why I'm asking to go with you. Wherever you're headed."

His head tilted, the beskar shining in the setting suns, and you wondered what his eyes looked like under that helmet. Would they be sparkling with mirth or lined with mockery?

"I thought you were kidding," he said sheepishly, shifting his weight. "To get me to underestimate you." He looked like the picture of careful relaxation, although his blaster was still held tightly in both hands, poised in case he needed to aim and fire.

You couldn't help the exasperation in your tone as you lifted your head to the sky, squeezing your eyes shut and placing a curled fist over your eyes. "Why would I do that when I don't want to turn you in?"

He didn't answer.

"You know that there's only two ways out of this, right?" He still didn't answer you, just held his blaster taut and his head tilted to the side, so you continued. "You killed every Guild member that's left. Now it's just you and I. If I don't bring you in—which I'm not exactly dying to do—those rich fucks that are more powerful than us are gonna come find us."

"Find you," he corrected. "Why would I want to add another target to my ship?"

You shrugged. "Yeah, they probably will. But that's only part of the first option. Either they come for me, and you leave me here, and I die—also something I'm not particularly thrilled to think about—or the two of us..." you gestured with your hands to imitate the pair of you getting on the Razor Crest and flying away from Tatooine and its dusty expanse of a landscape.

"Could be a third option," he said quietly, "if you think about it." He lifted his blaster until it was lined up with your chest. "I might just kill you and cut my losses."

Fear might have struck you, but you didn't have the energy to entertain the panic unspooling in your chest. "That wouldn't be very humanitarian of you. Besides," you insisted, hands lifting to portray the image of surrender, "I'm light. I'm quiet. I won't stay with you longer than I need to. Once you get me off this planet, I'll find a place for you to drop me off."

He didn't answer for a moment.

"Literally," you pushed once more, "you can open the back door and push me out for all I care. I just want out of the Guild and all their dumb shit."

You'd known Mandalorians to be quiet, pious, and ruthless, but something about the way his helmet betrayed no hint to what he was thinking or how he might respond...it made you more anxious than you'd ever been in your life. Finally, he spoke, his voice calm. "Well...you're not coming with me. Ship's full."

"Your ship?" you said, incredulous. "That thing would be gone without me."

"Damn luck, that was." His voice had gone hard, but his body was still.

This was...partially true. Your mind flashed with a memory of the way you'd accidentally pulled the trigger on one of your blasters, effectively stunning the last Guild member who'd been attempting to strap explosives to the hull of the Crest. It was the only good thing that you'd done all day.

You curled your lip, annoyance rippling off you in waves. Lifting a middle finger in front of the helmet, you scowled. Hope he can see this under all that beskar, you snarled inwardly. "Still counts."

With a soft huff that you could hear come from under his helmet, the Mandalorian lowered his blaster. "One jump into hyperspace. The first little space rock that's big enough to stand on—"

"Perfect," you interrupted firmly. "I'll be out of you...armor...soon enough."

—

You'd missed your stop about three years ago. One jump into hyperspace had turned into four, and then ten, and...now you had your own spot to rest your head at night on the Razor Crest.

On that first day, you hadn't known the Mandalorian—"Din Djarin," he'd introduced himself reluctantly one day—was still traveling with Grogu, the sweet child that had begun his journey across the galaxy, hiding from the Guild. But you'd quickly decided it was nice to have another partner in crime, to interact with whenever Din was in the middle of one of his quiet days.

As the days had turned into months, and subsequently into years, the inability to meet Din face-to-face had become less frustrating, although sometimes you wished you could sneak a glance at his hands, or his wrists, or something that might resemble the human underneath the armor.

Once in awhile, deliciously, you could tilt your head just the right way and look forward at him when he was in the cockpit, his helmet pulling away from the cloth under his armor. Between helmet and armor, a sliver of golden skin would glimmer back at you, just begging to be touched. Of course, you never gave in to your silent desires.

This was not the Mandalorian way; you knew this well. Even when you felt his head turned toward you, even when you were sure his hands were reaching for you when you needed his help climbing somewhere, you kept your distance.

Well, for as long as you could. Until he forced your hand.

It wasn't long before you were unable to keep your hands away from him; going up and down the ladder on the Crest, or climbing over the occasional boulder on the routes you walked along when forced to take a respite on an unknown planet. His gloves were always rough in your grip, but you couldn't ignore the way his hands seemed to squeeze yours, tighter than might have been necessary.

And you'd begun letting your hands linger on the beskar of his armor for moments longer than you should—his helmet, tracing the indented curves of the spot where his cheekbones rested underneath, or on his chestplate, where you swore you could feel him lean into you, as if pressing your hands closer and closer to his skin beneath the armor.

You stood beside him as he sat in the chair in the cockpit, guiding the Razor Crest through the galaxy once more, aiming for some undisclosed location he'd neglected to tell you. He usually did things like that; you'd learned not to be offended by his unbreakable instinct to keep things to himself.

It hadn't occurred to you just how long he'd been wearing that helmet until you looked toward him again and noticed the soft curl of a few brown strands of hair that crept from the edges, kissing the back of his neck. They were short strands, but they were long enough to wink up at you as they curled around each other, begging to be touched.

"Din?" you asked, hoping to distract yourself from the thought.

He didn't look at you, but he tilted his head in your direction, just a centimeter. It was enough.

"Why'd you let me stay with you?" you gripped your hands together, as if they had a mind of their own and couldn't be trusted to remain at your sides. "I was horrible at any aspect of being a bounty hunter."

You were used to the way that it always took him a few seconds to answer, coming up with an evenly-expressed response. This, of course, gave you more time to stare at the tendrils spilling from the edges of his helmet.

"You were a risk," he admitted with a shrug, the helmet (of course) not betrayed anything. His voice was calm, even as he continued softly. "I have a particular...proclivity for picking up foundlings," he said with a tilt of his head toward Grogu, who cooed at the mention of him.

You lifted an eyebrow. "I'm not a foundling, though."

If you could have seen his eyes, you were almost positive that they'd be giving you a look that said, are you sure? Instead, he only spoke in his perpetually smooth voice. "You were lost, though, mesh'la."

You still weren't sure what each word in Mando'a meant—he'd been dropping a few words here and there, as if he knew you couldn't interpret them—but you blushed all the same. Before you knew it, your hands were releasing their grip on one another and reaching up to comb through the curls at the base of his neck.

They were softer than you'd imagined; smooth and thick in your grip. "Alright," you said gently, "maybe I was. I never got to thank you, you know."

Your hands were moving on their accord now, silently twirling the curls around the tips of your fingers. You were used to his silent, immobile exterior, so you didn't think he'd be able to feel the way you pressed your hand to the back of his neck. He'd never said anything before that gave the impression that he was aware of your ministrations, so when he leaned back into your touch then, something strong and addiction bloomed in your gut.

When he spoke, you were surprised to hear how shaky his voice was. After three years of hearing nothing but steady syllables fall from his masked lips, you nearly flinched at the stutter in his voice.

"Thank me?" he said quietly. "For..." you could have sworn you felt his heartbeat flutter rapidly in his neck when he trailed off. "For what?"

You pulled your hand away, pretending not to notice the way he shuddered at the loss of touch, his shoulders slumping as if in a pained relaxation. You hid your smirk. "You're not seriously asking that, right? Without you, I'd probably be dead by now." Or worse, you reflected with a quiet pang in your chest.

Din's response was quick this time, an unusual—but not unwelcome—surprise. "And without your perfectly timed luck, I might be without a ship." His voice was thick, trembling with something that might have sounded like desire had it been someone else speaking.

You didn't even think Din had the capacity to know something as heavy as desire. Well, not that he was incapable of feeling desire, just...you'd never thought about what he might do if he did feel it. Would he shove the temptations down, destined to die in the corners of his mind and body?

Your cheeks warmed at your next thought. Perhaps he took care of it himself in the dead of night on the Razor Crest, or on those mysteriously long patrol walks that he insisted on doing alone.

"Yeah, well..." your answer was pitiful and you knew it. But you were too busy looking at the way his body was slumped in his seat, facing forward despite every limb beginning to turn toward you, as if you were a magnetic beacon.

His fingers twitched in his gloves, angling toward you just as his knees began to do the same thing. "Will you..." he trailed off, clearing his throat awkwardly. "Mesh'la," he breathed, and he leaned to the side, as if his shoulder was chasing your touch. "Put it back."

You were going to ask what he meant, but you didn't have to. Even with his helmet on, you could practically see the pleading in his body language. Here he was, a devout Mandalorian, begging you to put your hands back on him.

"Please," he said quietly, almost a question. It sounded so unlike him that you wondered briefly if he'd been killed and replaced with an imposter. But by the way that his hand trembled as he took his focus away from flying the Crest and moved it toward you...this was Din.

"You...okay?" you asked, but you obliged his request in return, replacing your hand at the base of his neck. You watched in an unfurling dizzying sense of satisfaction as he reached up his own gloved hand to cover yours, squeezing it gently. "Din," you started, but he shook his head.

"I've never disobeyed the Way of the Mandalore," he said, his voice muffled under the mask. You strained your eyes, wishing you could see beneath the beskar. "I've never wanted to. Not before..." he brought your hand around to rest on his chestplate, and you could feel the pressure of his chest leaning into your touch. "Not before I knew what it might feel like to want someone like this."

Your eyes widened, but you didn't pull your hand away. "You...what?"

His head tilted down. "For once, I don't know how to manage this." He stood up, and suddenly he was towering over you, the cloth under his armor making your fingers itch to tear it off. "How do I manage this?"

"I..." you couldn't hide your shock. "I don't know. It's...isn't it against your religion? It's not the Way."

Din shook his head. "No, it's not." He spread his hand down your wrist and extended it toward your own chest, the leather of his glove seeping into your skin. "But I've also never told anyone my name. Never heard it spoken since I was a child."

You swallowed roughly. "So?"

He huffed a chuckle. Lifting your hands to his helmet, he let your fingers find the divots of the beskar. You didn't miss the way his chest shuddered with a stuttering breath at your touch. "So," he said, "to hell with the Way. For tonight, at least. I need to know you in every way I wish I could."

Such a harrowing request, given the circumstances. But you couldn't stop your hands from tracing the lines of his masked face. "Din..."

"Please." His voice cracked over the single syllable, and it was all you needed.

To hell with the Way, your thoughts echoed his words, and you nodded softly. "Alright," you acquiesced. With one look down, you saw the tent growing in his pants, sending a spike of desire down your spine, settling in your core. "How'll you have me?" you asked.

He let out a soft noise that sounded like a whimper. "Any way that I can," he choked out, his hand returning to your wrist and enclosing it in his grip. "I'll have you any way you'll have me."

You could hardly speak, so you didn't. With a gentle nudge, you pushed him back into his seat. When he sat back, his legs fell open; there was an inviting space between them.

Standing in the spot, just inches from his face, you stared into the black mass of his helmet, hoping you'd get a glimpse of his face. Of course, you knew he would only go as far as he wanted to. If the mask was destined to remain, then...so be it.

With your eyes on his, you moved his hands to your waist, pressing them to your skin and enjoying the feeling of his leather against your body.

He shook his head. "Take them off," he said, again with that whimpering voice. "Please."

You nodded wordlessly and shed his hands of the barriers, heat pooling in your core at the sight of long, thick fingers, his skin finally exposed to you. Returning his hands to your waist, you tilted your head back at the sensation. You were never going to forget what his skin felt against yours.

The melody of shuddering breaths that fell from his lips was unreal, and you wanted to soak up every second of it. Without more than a second thought, you slid your legs over his, straddling his hips and pressing your chest to his chestplate. His hands remained on your waist, but he let them wander, curling them around to cup your ass.

The feeling of his hands on your body made you unconsciously roll your hips forward, which released a strangled moan from his lips. "Oh, god," he mumbled. "Mesh'la, please take it off."

You paused. Your hands fell to your lap, and your eyes were wider than saucers in the reflection of his helmet. "What?"

He picked up your hands in his own, the rub of skin against skin an intoxicating intimacy. "Please," he begged. "If I'm going to touch you like this, I need to see you, cyar'ika. Nothing in the way."

You were going to argue further, but you couldn't ignore the pulsing need that was clouding your thoughts, the same need that pushed your hips further down into his lap. It was impossible to miss the way his cock twitched against your clit, eliciting a soft moan from your lips.

“Are you—”

“Don’t fuckin’ ask me if I’m sure,” he begged, and he squeezed your hips under his hands. “Never been more sure, mesh’la.”

This time it was your turn to let out a shaky breath. “Okay,” you whispered, more to bolster your own confidence than his own. His resolve was clearly rather strong in this matter, and nothing would change his mind.

With a hand on either side of the helmet, you gently pulled it up and away from his face, hardly able to believe that he’d agreed to let you rid him of his every barrier. For a moment, as each inch of skin was revealed to you, you caught yourself frantically wondering what he might look like.

Would he look like anyone else? Would he look familiar to you in that way that only lovers can? Or would he be hiding a deformed brow bone or an abnormally small nose or a crude smile?

Of course, you shouldn’t have even worried. When the helmet lifted off of his head and you let it fall to the floor with a hard thud, you smiled at the face that blinked back at you in wonder. With those brown strands that were just long enough to hang down over his forehead, and the matching brown eyes that twinkled with the moonlight in his pupils, Din Djarin was exquisite.

“I knew it,” you hummed, your eyes tracing every line on his face, every strand of hair that clung charmingly to his forehead.

His response was a strangled moan, and his eyes fluttered closed of their own accord when you dragged a finger along his jaw, then the hooked line of his nose. “Knew what?”

“I knew you’d be one of the pretty ones,” you grinned, and you leaned down to press your lips to his, swallowing his groan of ecstasy.

You drank it down like the sweetest liquor, the sound pulling your own moan from your chest. His lips were chapped and dry from lack of care, but his mouth was warm and wet and his tongue was deliciously shy as he darted it towards yours. His hands stuttered as they pressed further up your chest and felt for your breasts. You weren’t sure how long he’d last; his chest was already heaving.

“Din,” you pulled back with a grin. “Din,” you repeated when his eyes remained closed. “Thought you wanted to look at me?”

“I do,” he said, his voice choking in his throat. “I do, mesh’la, I just…I think I might come in my damn suit if I look at those lips too long.”

You cooed, letting a hand search for the roots of his hair, finding a home on his scalp. You curled your fingers in the strands and watched his eyes squeeze shut, his jaw go slack, and felt his hips buck up into yours. “You’re so sensitive, baby,” you hummed, your mind running wild with thoughts of what this could mean.

“Never been touched like this,” he mumbled, voice cracking again. “Feels perfect, mesh’la.”

“I need you to look at me, Din,” you nodded. “It’ll keep feeling good, I promise. I just need you to look at me.”

When his eyes opened, you could have fallen apart right there at the sight of his glassy brown depths. His lip quivered and you almost thought he’d cry, but then he was letting his hand fall from your chest to your waistband, trailing his thumb along the skin there. “Can I?” he asked gently.

Nodding, you stood up. “Just keep breathing, pretty boy,” you said softly. “I’ll make you feel good. Show you just how good it can be.” You guided his hands to your waist and let him pull your pants to your ankles, revealing the front of your glistening slit to him.

Din was just starting to understand the drug-like effects of physical touch, so you weren’t surprised when he leaned forward, fell to his knees, and pressed his forehead to the soft skin of your stomach, breathing deeply as if he were a zealot bent to pray at the altar.

“C’mere,” you whispered, though unable to hide the growing smirk on your face. There seemed to be nothing more addicting than the sight of the Mandalorian on his knees before you. “Sit back down for me, baby,” you said, tilting his chin up to look at you. “Take those pants off, they look awfully restricting.”

He nodded quickly and obeyed, slipping his pants down to his knees as he sat back on his chair. It was downright sinful—the beskar on his chest but his helmet removed and his cock springing free, the tip red and angry and leaking. “Please,” he begged. “I—”

“I know,” you breathed, stepping closer to him. “We’re gonna make each other feel good now, yeah?”

Din nodded once more, his eyes fluttering shut. “Please, please.”

Well, how were you going to deny him then?

You straddled him once more, your clit throbbing at the sight of his cock underneath you. But rather than shock him with the feeling of your pussy milking him for all he was worth, you hovered over him, just enough that the head of his cock lay just an inch from your entrance.

“Mesh’la,” he begged, “please don’t tease. I’ll be good. I’ll make you feel good, I swear to everything I’ve ever believed in—”

A finger pressed to his lips, you shook your head. “I know,” you repeated. “Deep breaths for me, Din.”

He inhaled sharply and shoved his breath out of his chest. For a moment, his eyes cleared.

“Good,” you encouraged him, relishing in the look of his wide eyes at the praise. “Such a pretty boy, baby.” You moved his hand to your core, guiding his fingers to your clit. “Rub little circles for me, baby. Make me feel good and I’ll make you feel good.”

He obliged quickly, rubbing tentative circles to your clit in a way that had you smiling gently, loving the sacrilege you were participating in. “Is that g—oh!”

Din’s question was interrupted by your hand reaching down to grip his cock, delivering a quick stroke and making his hips stutter. He tried his best to lift his hips from the chair, clearly aiming for your entrance, but one hand on the beskar on his chest had him sitting back.

“It’s okay, baby,” you cooed, “just like that. Just touch me for a while.”

Ever the gentleman, Din kept his eyes on you and his hand on your pussy, pulling sweet sounds from your lips just as you wrecked him beneath you. Your thumb slid against his tip and he almost came; you could tell by the way his breath caught in his throat and his eyes squeezed shut, lip trapped between his teeth.

You wanted his fingers to wander toward your dripping entrance, but you knew he might not last long enough for any more foreplay. Next time, you thought smugly.

Now…now you needed him inside you.

“Gentle, baby,” you reminded him when he gripped your hip too tightly. You didn’t want to tell him you enjoyed the near-bruising strength; that would be for another time. You could already see that you were close to losing him, and you weren’t going to end this experience without riding him until the both of you saw stars. “One more deep breath, yeah?”

He was a mess of tumbling words in Mando’a that you didn’t understand, and his brow was furiously furrowed, as if it was taking all of his focus not to come on your hand. As a matter of fact, it probably was taking all of his focus. “Please, mesh’la,” he said again.

You wondered briefly if you’d begin answering that now; treating it as your name. Mesh’la.

“Deep breath, baby,” you reminded him, and when he obeyed, you sank your hips towards his. The tip of his cock slid in with no resistance; you were wetter than you’d ever been in your life. “Good boy,” you moaned as you kept your hand on his neck, softly cupping the underside of his jaw to look at you. “So fuckin’ pretty like this.”

The stretch of his cock inside you was delicious, and pleasure licked sharply at your insides, begging for a quick release. You knew he wouldn’t be able to hold himself together much longer based on the whimpers that still crumbled from his throat, broken and jagged.

“So fuckin’ pretty?” he repeated, his voice a high squeak. He gripped your hips and threw his head back. “So fuckin’ pretty for you?”

Your breath rushed out of your chest in a strong blow and you had to take a deep breath yourself to calm down. “All for me, Din, that’s it,” you continued, and you lifted your hips up. Dropping them back into his lap, you soaked up the feeling of being filled so completely by his cock. With every shred of patience left in your body, you pushed your lips back to his and tasted his moans on his tongue.

His hips began lifting into your own, the only clue you’d get to his desperation for more. Without a word, you began moving faster, more rhythmically, as you bounced gently on his cock. With the base of his cock pulsing against your clit at every drop of your hips, you were approaching that edge quicker and quicker. “Din,” you moaned, “baby, I’m gonna—”

“Please,” he said, “I want you to feel good, mesh’la. Use me, please, use me, please…”

You were sure your brain short circuited. With no more patience left in your bones, you picked up the pace and chased your own orgasm, knowing he wasn’t far behind. With every squelch of your pussy on his cock, your moans became less coherent, and you leaned your head forward against his neck.

Pulling back to press a kiss to his jaw, you felt his loins tense beneath you. Something nearly snapped inside you at the sound and sight and sensation of his pleasure so close to release; at the knowledge that it was you who had done this to him. “Good,” you mumbled against his jaw, getting closer to his ear. “Pretty boy, just for me,” you mumbled.

Din’s chest tightened and his moans became longer and more high-pitched, true whimpers if you’d ever heard one. “Mesh’la,” he begged, “Mesh’la, I—”

You dipped your head down and, while grinding your hips back and forth on his cock at a feverish pace, you darted your tongue out to his neck. Licking a stripe from the crevice of his neck to the spot just behind the soft part of his ear, you groaned in his ear as you crumbled on him, releasing the tension in your body as you came hard.

Din was ruined beneath you, with his neck bobbing and his eyes shut, his head thrown back. Mouth opened in a wide moan, his voice broken over the sound, you felt his release sink into your fluttering walls. He let out a deep cry of words that you didn’t recognize, but you blushed all the same. With the way that his eyes glossed over when he said it, you were sure it was something that reeked of sin and sweat and sacrilege.

“So good,” you mumbled again, “you’ve done so good for me, Din.” Your face tucked itself into the crook of his neck, and you inhaled the heady scent that belonged only to him. You sat motionless on his lap, but you could still feel his head pulse inside you at the overstimulation. “Did that feel good?” you asked, your hand reaching up to smooth down his hair comfortingly.

He let out a breathless laugh. “If this is sin, I’ll want more of it,” he replied, his arms snaking around your middle to tug your chest closer to him. “I’ll never know how to thank you,” he finished, sighing deeply. His eyes twinkled at you when you pulled away to look at him.

You shook your head. “No need,” you assured him. “Just catch your breath, brave Mandalorian. Then we’ll talk.”

He nodded, his eyelids growing heavier with the expense of energy now catching up with him. His cock had grown soft inside you, but he made no move to lift you from him. “I did well?” he asked. This wasn’t surprising; you’d known him to be quietly confident, but the Mandalorian was never one to pass up the opportunity for someone to reassure his talents.

You grinned and leaned forward to press your lips to his hooked nose, fighting the urge to nip at it with your teeth. Next time, you reminded yourself. “You did well,” you nodded. “Feeling okay?”

He splayed his hands on your back and inhaled near your chest, his face buried into the soft skin of your breasts. “Never better,” he reassured you, rubbing his hands along your spine. “So sweet to me, baby,” he murmured, repeating your own affection back to you.

The two of you remained like that, just wrapped together in a mess of limbs and sweat and come mingling together. When he began to wince with the overstimulation, you lifted off of his cock but remained in his lap. You pulled back and leaned your forehead against his. You watched his lips, plump and sitting perfectly, waiting to be kissed again.

“What does mesh’la mean?” you asked instead, the word strange and unfamiliar on your tongue.

He looked at you for a long time, bringing a finger up to trace the line of your mouth. “Put your lips on mine again and I’ll teach you,” he offered casually, as if his pupils weren’t still blown wide, his eyelashes still fluttering from the power of his release.

You smirked. “This is the Way, huh?”

For once in his life, Din Djarin smiled at you. “This is the Way.”

tysm for reading! so glad to be back, i'm sorry if the smut scene seemed rushed and out of pace! again: i was hungover. pls forgive. lemme know what you think!

adding tags here cause i'm going grocery shopping at 8:30pm BYEEEE

this is a good morning fic for @thetriumphantpanda and the aftercare bit at the end was specifically for @cavillscurls i know u crave it girl

the rest of the taggies: @mingiast @iluvurfather @cupofjoel @morning-star-joy @darkroastjoel @tightjeansjavi @chaotic-mystery @dinsdjrn @huffle-punk @tommymilllers @milly-louise @struig @butiknewyoudlinger @alejaa-a @worhols @thegreat-annamaria @easaud @country2212 @sleepdeprived-feelalived @pertinentpostmortem @lailaispunk

#din djarin smut #din djarin x reader #din djarin x f!reader #virgin!din djarin #din djarin x experienced!reader #the mandalorian fic #the mandalorian fanfiction #mandalorian #star wars #star wars smut #star wars fic

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moonstruckme · 20 days

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It's me once again! Bothering you twice in a day, I'm annoying like that, ha just kidding. But yes James is soooo wholesome, it's crazy how he became my favorite boy. So Mae, I suppose you are super busy because being such amazing writer is no easy job when you have requests coming all the time but, if you have the time, whenever that is, could you write something about James? Like James being so wholesome, the best boyfriend, the fluffiest thing you can think of, maybe something with words or affirmation and kisses and hugs and just very lovely things, feel like I need that. If you can of course.

Hope you are having a very cool weekend and my username is basically my favorite colors and it has something to do with Van Gogh and my favorite singer but this kid knows something, haha it's so funny, kind of serendipitous if you ask me :) love that. Well, I'm going to set you free, read you soon.

P.S. Sorry this was so loonng

Hi lovely, thanks for requesting!! Sorry this took so long lol, I had to wait until I had an idea that wasn't already in my requests but I appreciate your patience! This is perhaps more hurt/comfort than straight fluff lol, but he is the most wholesome ever <3

cw: concussion

James Potter x fem!reader ♡ 603 words

James’ hand is especially gentle as he strokes over your hair. Your nose dents into his thigh, and his jeans are coarse and scratchy but the slight pressure is nice.

“Still dizzy?” he asks, carefully quiet.

“A little.” Your own voice is thin, fraught. “Not as bad.”

He sighs, and you feel too weird to decipher whether it’s in relief or dismay. “I’m sorry, angel.” He lifts one of your hands to his mouth, kissing the side. “Is it hurting in one place?”

“It’s my whole face. But most in my forehead.”

James’ touch is featherlight, ghosting over the spot where you’d smacked your head on the stairs. “Here?”

“Mhm.”

He makes a worried humming sound in response. You sit in silence for some time, and it’s not uncomfortable, but nothing is comfortable for you right now. You feel terrible, unlike yourself and unsettled because of that and also weepy but not as much as you are embarrassed. And dwelling upon any of this for too long makes your head spin worse. You don’t think you’re dying though it feels like you might be.

The warm bead rolling down your nose brings you to the realization that you’re crying. James’ coo follows a moment later, and his hand splays protectively atop your head.

“You’re okay, sweetheart. Do you feel alright to sit up?”

“Okay,” you mumble.

He does the work for you, though it’s hard to keep track of the movements. One second your head is on his lap and the next you’re propped against his chest, one muscled arm supporting your back while James rests his lips against your forehead.

“You’re okay,” he promises. “You’re okay, I’ve got you.”

“I don’t really feel like going to dinner anymore,” you admit, tasting salt as a tear finds its way into your mouth.

“Oh,” James lifts his lips to look you in the eyes, “honey, I didn’t expect you to. I’m going to call Remus and cancel in a minute, okay?” He brushes a lock of hair away from your face with his pinkie finger, stroking a sweet line down your cheek. “If you go anywhere, it should probably be to the doctor.”

“No.” You close your eyes, too upset to care about the low whine that escapes you. “What’re they gonna do?”

“I don’t know, baby.” James traces the same line again. “They might want to do an MRI or something. I’ve had a concussion before, they’re serious business.”

You sigh, leaning your head on his shoulder. The material of his jumper is soft beneath your cheek. “I can’t think about it right now.”

There’s a brief pause.

“Okay. Okay, we can talk about it tomorrow, if it’s still bad then.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to be sorry.” James’ arm wraps around your middle, squeezing lightly in a gentle sort of hug. You think that he’s being very careful with you, which you appreciate. You don’t imagine you could handle much more sensation at the moment. “I know it sucks, angel, and you’re handling it so well. We’re gonna do our best to get you feeling better. I love you so much, you know?”

You feel like you might cry again. You don’t think you have the energy to stop yourself. “I know,” you tell him. “I love you so much, too.”

“Heaps and heaps.” He gives you another little squeeze, his ability to repress his affection tenuous at best. “Probably the most anyone has ever loved anyone, if we’re being honest.”

“James.”

“Yeah?”

“I can’t do that kind of math right now. I love you a lot, okay?”

“Okay. Same here.”

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bumblesimagines · 1 month

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War Between Kin

Request: Yes or No

Summary: When Rhaenyra Targaryen takes her throne back, she ensures to take care of the remaining Greens in the Keep. Jacaerys attempts to figure out the whereabouts of the Usurper King Aegon by questioning his younger sister.

Pronouns: She/Her/Hers, F!Reader

CW/TW: Typical GoT/HOTD warnings, AU where what happened in the Gullet does not occur, for plot purposes Jace and Baela are not engaged, potential spoilers for S3/events in the books, mentions of Targcest, brief mention of arranged marriage, bastardphobia,

I'm about to fill up the fucking tag because of this man. Super short but here you go for my fem readers!

~~~

"Where is Aegon Targaryen?"

"I've already told you, I do not know."

Jace had long grown tired of repeating himself, and he knew for certain his aunt had grown tired of the questioning the first time he asked. A rough near twenty minutes had passed since he'd first entered the bedchambers she'd been confined to when his mother returned to her rightful home, and he'd learned nothing new about the whereabouts of his missing uncle nor who could have had a hand in smuggling the usurper out of King's Landing.

Truthfully, Jace's patience always had a tendency to run out. He certainly felt it reaching the end of its line as he bounced his knee and laced his fingers over his stomach, eyes tracking his aunt as she paced the room back and forth clad in that godsforsaken shade of green Dowager Queen Alicent often wore. His legs ached just watching her continuously move, although he suspected if she stopped and sat across from him as he'd asked her to numerous times, she'd likely strike at him until someone tore her off him.

"He is your eldest brother, is he not?" Jace spoke through near-gritted teeth, the bouncing of his leg intensifying with each passing second.

The longer they went without locating Aegon Targaryen, the longer his mother went without rest. He remained a threat to them all, even in his battered and ruined state. Half his body burnt, they'd said, and hardly able to walk by himself without help. Jace hardly understood why anyone would desire someone in his state on the throne.

"I am not my brother's keeper." (Y/N) seethed lowly, voice laced with irritation and legs continuing to move back and forth across the room. Her hands tightly clutched the skirt of her dress, keeping it barely lifted to avoid tripping over it.

Despite the rather eyesore of a color reminding Jace of her traitorous family, he'd be a fool to deny it wasn't a beautiful dress that suited her well. She looked regal, if not incredibly furious with him and the rest of his family. It'd been expected after all the fighting and bloodshed between their families even before the war began.

"Do not lie to me, Aunt." Jace scoffed, bracing his arms against the table before him. "All my life, you've always been the watcher amongst your siblings. I doubt not a single thing happened in this castle, in this city, without you learning of it. You must tell me where your brother has fled before Daemon's patience with your stubbornness runs thin. He will not be as kind as I have been."

(Y/N) scowled at him and finally ceased her mindless pacing, her back turning to him and hands raising to her face. In all the years Jace had known the beautiful woman before him, he'd only ever seen her lose her icy demeanor once when Aemond's eye was taken and she'd bitten the skin around her nails until they were raw. He disliked it. He much preferred her snarky attitude over her anxious habits unbefitting of a lady such as her.

"What of Helaena?" She questioned abruptly, her dress swishing when she spun around to face him and her eyes squinting with an unspoken accusation. "You have kept your dogs at bay, have you not? She is not of sound mind."

"Helaena is the most innocent out of the lot of you! Her Grace would never bring harm upon Helaena, of all possible people." Utterly absurd! Jace hardly believed his ears, hardly found it within himself not to snap at her and remind her it'd been her brother who'd killed Luke mercilessly. Still, (Y/N) released a dry laugh, her shoes smacking against the ground as she stormed up to the table.

"Do pray tell, Nephew," She spat the word venomously, as if it were full of filth. "What were Rhaenyra's intentions when she hired those animals who forced Helaena to choose between her sons? What were Rhaenyra's intentions when those animals killed my nephew before his siblings, mother, and grandmother? Helaena has lost her mind. She relives that night every waking moment. A son for a son, they claimed, justice on behalf of Rhaenyra the Cruel."

Jace shot up from his seat, nearly knocking the chair back from sheer force, and slammed his palms against the table with his lips pulled back into a snarl. "Her Grace did not order the death of any of Helaena's sons!"

"Oh, even better, she cannot keep a leash on her own people, then?" (Y/N) laughed again, dry and bitter. "Let us pray Aemond and Daeron arrive quickly with their army, shall we? At least then we will be spared the reign of a queen who cannot control her own allies. It's pathetic, Jacaerys, utterly pathetic. Even if the Realm allows a queen to sit the throne, they will never accept a bastard."

"Mind your tongue, Princess, before I-"

"Before you what?" (Y/N) rounded the table swiftly, gliding along the floor until she reached his side. He managed to turn sideways to face before their chests pressed together, their faces mere inches apart and noses threatening to brush against each other. Jace stiffened, his hands rolling into tightly clenched fists and eyes struggling to remain focused on the lilac of her irises. "Before you cut my tongue out as your grandfather once threatened? Do it, then. Cut my tongue out, here and now, and show your subjects you will not be a king of words alone."

Jace remained silent, his nostrils flaring with his deep inhale and jaw clenching. A challenge, a rather blatant one from his aunt of all people. His cheeks warmed against his will, the embarrassment trickling in because he'd never dare to lay a threatening finger on a lady, much less a beloved princess of the Realm. Jace stared into her eyes and swallowed, his mind searching for words he could shoot back at her.

"A bastard and a coward, then? You will be the end of our dynasty with your tainted blood." She hissed lowly, her breath fanning against his face. "The Gullet did not make you a warrior, did it? Not when you had to be dragged out of the waters full of arrows by another bastard."

"You-"

The sound of a sword unsheathing filled his ears and made his blood bubble with dread, unable to do anything else when she stepped back and pressed the tip of his sword against his throat. Jace's head instinctively tilted up, his heart beginning to drum against his ribcage when his adams apple dragged along the sharp blade threatening to cut his skin. Her lips curled up cruelly and she shook her head slowly, her earrings swaying with her movements.

"The Realm will never a bastard such as yourself to sit the Iron Throne. It'd be an insult to each of the Great Houses. I could end this pathetic display of a boy pretending to be man right here... but your inheritance would fall on the shoulders of young Joffery, and Gods know what Daemon would do to that boy with the line of succession so close to reaching his own sons. I would rather witness Daemon stew in his desperate desire to see his own blood on the throne than offer him up a child on a platter. Unlike your mother, I am not that cruel."

"Daemon knows his place." Nobody would ever believe those words, not even Jace himself. "He is King Consort. He's achieved what he's always desired."

"Has he?" (Y/N) slowly retracted the sword from his throat and tossed it onto the table with a clatter. "Or is he merely lying in wait as he's done time and time again? When he was refused the throne, he waited for the opportunity to arise to bring humiliation on your mother. When he was exiled, he waited for Ser Laenor to be no more so he could take the heir for himself. You are not his son, Jacaerys. You are an obstacle, and Daemon obviously despises obstacles. It will only be a matter of time before he realizes if something were to occur to your mother, he would rule as regent, and as regent, he'd do whatever he desired."

(Y/N) turned away from him once more, her skirt dragging along the stone floor as she walked toward her open window and stopped by it, staring out into the long expense of ocean. Jace took his sword and slid it into his sheath again, internally scolding himself for having grown distracted before he approached his aunt, his steps slow and cautious.

"Rhaenyra should have never been named heir." (Y/N) murmured, and Jace's eyes fell down to her hands, watching her scrape her nails along the skin of her fingers. Her eyes danced, never focusing on one thing for longer than a second as her mind continued working with thoughts and ideas Jace surprisingly longed to hear.

"And yet, she is the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms... and by late morrow she expects you to bend the knee publicly before the court."

"Or what? She shall behead me as she did my grandsire? I hear the executions have become a daily occurrence. Rhaenyra the Cruel's bloody reign, they shall call it. You will see in due time that we would have all been better for it if she had accepted the terms for peace. Your brother may have yet lived, and you would not have nearly met the Stranger in the Gullet."

"We are still at war, Princess, and we'd be fools to keep traitors in our midst," Jace spoke, but he could not stop the tremor in his voice. It'd been satisfying at first when they spilled the blood of Otto Hightower and his son, as well as the Small Council members who'd so openly opposed his mother. But then, blood continued to be spilled, and neither Rhaenyra nor Daemon would stop to hear of it. "It is... for the good of the Realm."

(Y/N) shook her head but otherwise remained silent, the fury she'd contained in her body dissolving. She continued watching the distant waves in the water, her nails only digging harder and harder into her skin until they threatened to break through to her flesh and blood. Unable to help himself, Jace clasped his hand over hers to stop the constant scratching, his lips pressing together and a quiet sigh escaping him.

"I am here to question you about Aegon Targaryen's whereabouts... but I suppose I should also inform you that your mother has made a proposal in an attempt to stop the bloodshed and put an end to the war. She's offered up a betrothal between you and I so that both sides may come together in marriage. Her Grace agreed to some of the terms that came with the proposal, among them a promise to not bring harm upon Helaena, Jaehaera, or Ser Daeron if he bends the knee. She will have the heads of Aegon and Aemond regardless."

His aunt stared at him for a good long while, her body eventually tilting to face him fully. Her arms dropped down to her sides, forcing Jace to drop his hand as well. She wet her lips and turned her gaze away, the news finally beginning to settle into her body. She opened her mouth, looking back at him: "I would rather fling myself from this window than marry a bastard and further tie myself to a hopeless cause."

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muwapsturniolo · 2 months

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♱ 𝐁𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐝 𝐆𝐨𝐝, 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐖𝐞’𝐥𝐥 𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐤 ♱

pt.01

IN WHICH…A virgin meets the new priest of her church, father Matt, and her world of all things holy begins to crumble.

WARNINGS… NSFW AHEAD! Religious figures, god is mentioned, Demons, slapping, sex, masturbation, parents being rough with their kids, mind fucking, orgasms, innocent!reader, slight asshole!matt. IF I MISSED ANYTHING PLEASE LET ME KNOW!!!

APOLOGIZING NOW TO ANYONE WHO IS SUPER RELIGIOUS! THIS IS NOT MEANT TO DISRESPECT ANYONE, I JUST GOT THE IDEA FROM OTHER SMUTS I'VE READ, THE SONG BY PATD!, AND THE MOVIE MOTHER!

Matt has slowly but surely made a name for himself within the clergy and the church attendees.

He had a way with words that seemed to captivate any and everyone he was speaking to, whether it was male or female. His words gave hope, they soothed you, they made you want more, crave it. It wasn't long before the odds worked in his favor and Father Jon gave him a permanent place in the church, letting him jump from being a deacon to a priest. Some of the clergy members had a problem with it, claiming it was unfair for him to jump to such a high rank in a short period of time.

"Proverbs 14:30...A peaceful mind gives life to the body, but jealousy rots the bones."

The way Matt had stated the scripture sounded much more like a threat rather than a piece of advice. His eyes were dark, his posture firm, and a malevolent smirk plastered on his face.

It was that day the clergy knew they shouldn't speak down upon him, he radiated power, a power no one wanted to defy.

He would usually stand side by side with Father Jon, helping preach to the attendees of the church. Other times he was in charge of the confessional, listening to the people confess their sins.

Father Jon quickly became impressed with his knowledge of the righteous path and integrity, So impressed that he offered a teaching position to him.

Matt took the position by thanking Father Jon with a firm handshake, grateful for the opportunity to teach the young minds of the right way to live.

For the next few months, he taught the senior class. He wasn't strict when teaching, he was laid back for the most part, but he made it a point that he wouldn't tolerate disrespect toward him or Christ. Instead of tests, he opted for long lectures and presentations. His way of teaching made the students love him, they participated in class willingly and showed him the utmost respect. The girls in the senior class were ecstatic about having Father Matt as their teacher, swooning and whispering about him at any given moment.

They fell victim to his charm.

They would call him cute, bring him slices of pies and cake they made themselves, they even talked about marrying him one day and raising their children in the church.

The only one who wasn't following suit in the schoolgirl crush was Y/n.

Now don't get her wrong, she could admit he was attractive, but he was too attractive.

There was something off about him that she couldn't place her finger on.

She would hear whispering whenever she was too close to him, the voices sounding hushed and scratchy. She would see glimpses of shadow people in her peripheral. Most of the time they were standing in the corners, looming over students, or simply sitting at Father Matt's side.

And worst of all...she began to have impure thoughts.

Images of them kissing under the tree in the park would pop into her head, vivid glimpses of his hand trailing along her shoulder only to drop down to her breast...She would see brief glimpses of them rolling around in bed, naked.

It scared her and intrigued her all at the same time. She had never had an impure thought like this before, and she blamed him....But she also wanted to expand on these thoughts.

She knew it was wrong, if God even looked inside her mind she would be stricken down and laid to rest.

"Just like that Angel, so good f'me." He groaned in her ear as she took all of him, inch by inch. Y/n whimpered at the burning but pleasurable ministration that was happening between her thighs, craving more, feining for it.

He thrust into her harshly, her back arching as a strangled cry left her throat. He kept going, feeding off of her cries and pleas, gripping her sides harshly and leaving indentations into the soft supple skin

She felt something forming in the pit of her stomach, the pressure so large she felt like she was going to scream and pass out all at once.

"Let go Angel, let go for your god" He whispered in her ear, a wicked grin across his face. Her eyes clenched shut as she let out a loud and strangled moan.

"Y/N!"

She's snapped back to reality, blinking profusely as she tries to figure out what's going on. She looks around and notices all of her classmates staring at her, some snickering, others with judgment.

She feels the brown flesh on her face heat up in embarrassment, her eyes finally landing on Matt whose already fixed on her.

He's staring at her as if he knows what she was imagining.

"I-I'm sorry, what was the question?" She asks nervously. Matt crosses his arms and licks over his teeth, his eyes narrowing. "You should be paying attention in class Y/n. Spending your time daydreaming instead of learning about your God is disrespectful, and what do I not tolerate?"

She can't help but shrink in on herself from his harsh words, her gaze now cast downward, " d-disrespect towards you o-or God..." Her voice is meek, a clear indication of fright from being reprimanded.

He hums and stares at her for a few seconds before continuing with his lecture.

The day soon ends, the girl quickly making her way through the church to go home. However, she's stopped by Father Jon himself.

"Y/n."

"A-afternoon Father." He smiles at her polite words, but soon turns serious. "Father Matt told me about your little situation today in class. You're never distracted, is everything alright?"

She glances at him nervously before looking down at her shoes. Father Jon can see something is tearing the girl apart, he's known her since she was born and knows this is out of character for her.

"Do you need to confess?"

A barely seeable nod is given, her eyes still cast downward.

"Why don't you go confess? Maybe that will ease your mind and get you back on track."

That seems like a good idea to the girl. If she confesses her impure thoughts and asks for Gods forgiveness, maybe they will stop.

Father Jon sends her to the booth, letting her know someone will be in shortly for her to talk to. She sits on the cherry wood bench of the small box, waiting patiently and anxiously for someone to sit on the other side.

She stops the fiddling of her hands when she hears the door on the other side open and close, a loud thud being heard. She flinches at the sound and listens to the harsh ragged breathing on the other side.

"H-Hello?"

"Confess..."

The voice is one she's never heard before. They sound sick, as if there's a bunch of mucus in their throat.

"U-umm...I-I'm not sure where to sta-Free yourself of the shackles." The words spoken sound like they are being spoken through a sea of static. It's unnerving, but she blames it on her being nervous already.

"I... I have thoughts... sinful thoughts."

She's met with silence so she continues.

"They-They're thoughts of me...with a man...A man of the church... h-he's touching me and I enjoy it. T-they've been happening for a while now, every second of the day....They're worse when I'm around him. It's causing me to be distracted from Christ and I feel dirty, I don't like it. It's wrong and I- It's not wrong"

Her words get caught in her throat and her brows furrow.

"W-what?"

"Your thoughts, they feel good correct? Whenever you imagine him touching you in your most delicate...sensitive areas...it feels nice. You wish your own hands could give you the pleasure. Your skin feels like it's on fire, your breathing speeding up. Your thighs clench together, and you begin to pulsate, an aching feeling in between your legs. Your core aches, wishing that everything you're imagining is real-" As the voice begins to spew the erotic words, the images begin to flash through her mind, knocking the air out of her lungs.

She can feel them.

Her thighs clench together tightly, one hand gripping the bench while the other claws at the wall of the confessional to steady herself. Her skin feels hot, her clothes suffocating her. She feels the sweat forming on her forehead, dripping down the side of her face.

Unintentionally she begins rocking her hips, grinding down on the bench. The combination of her clenched thighs and rocking caused a knot to form in her abdomen, her movements getting faster. Faint whimpers fall from her mouth as she clenches her eyes shut, chasing whatever it is shes running after.

"That's it Angel."

The voice, Matt's voice, sounds so real, almost as if he's whispering in her ear instead of in her head.

"You feel it, that hot burning ball in your stomach? Let go, let it take control."

The back of her head hits the wall of the confessional harshly, her eyes rolling back as her thighs shake. She feels a liquid roll down the inner part of her leg and dripping on the floor.

Her once tense body relaxes, her mind in a state of delirium as she takes deep breaths.

Her eyes snap open when she hears the door of the confessional slam. She comes to her senses and quickly scrambles out of the booth. Her head turns both ways, analyzing the empty hallway. Once she figures no one was a witness to whatever happened a few seconds ago, she speed walks away from the booth.

On her way home, she kept replaying her moment in the booth. The words that were spoken, the euphoric feeling she experienced...

She loved it.

She wanted more.

She soon makes it home, immediately being met with her parents in the kitchen.

"Y/n, you're home late." Her father gruffs out. "Father Jon wanted to speak to me after class." She lies swiftly, not even thinking twice like she usually would about it.

"About what?" Her mother raises a brow, questioning her response.

"Me joining the choir."

Her parents become elated, glad their daughter might finally have a place in the church. They usher her out of the kitchen, telling her to go shower and get ready for dinner. She does as told, taking the time to lather her body in vanilla-scented suds.

she dries herself off and pulls on her satin nightgown, putting on her slippers and making her way to the kitchen by skipping.

She feels awake, she feels alive, she feels happy.

The family of three eats their dinner, mainly in silence. The only noise heard being the scraping of utensils against the porcelain plates.

As she eats dinner, her mind drifts back to the confessional booth, that aching feeling between her thighs returning.

She discreetly clenches her thighs, adjusting the way she was sitting. Her parents noticed but chose not to say anything, figuring the chair was just uncomfortable. Dinner is soon finished, Y/n helping her mother wash the dishes.

"Did you want ice cream for dessert? I picked up the vanilla one you like." A loud clap of thunder is heard as Y/n turns to her mother.

"No, I'm going to go to bed."

Her parents were shocked by her turning down the dessert. She loved vanilla ice cream, for her to turn it down was unusual. They watch as she retreats up the stairs.

The girl waltzes into her room, closing the door softly, and falling into her bed. Her body melts into the twin-sized mattress, some of her stuffed animals falling to the floor. She relaxes as she hears the pitter-patter of rain falling onto the roof, falling into a calm trance as she closes her eyes.

Her relaxation is quickly interrupted by the ache between her thighs returning. It causes her to become restless, her body twisting and turning.

She clenches her thighs hoping to soothe the ache, but she's unsuccessful. She huffs and sits up, sliding to the edge of her bed. She tries to recreate her actions in the booth, her bed squeaking as she moves back and forth.

But once again, she was unsuccessful.

She grunts and crawls back to the top of the bed, falling back into her pillow. As she does so, her nightgown slides up, showing her white panties.

She looks down and bites her lips, contemplating. She recalls a story from one of the girls at school whose older sister was caught using her hand to do what's called "masturbation". She claimed her sister did it every night until her parents found out.

Of course, the girl was sent away by her parents, but Y/n wasn't thinking about that. The only thing on her mind was satisfying the throbbing between her legs.

Her right hand shakes as she moves it toward to cotton material, hesitant to do what she believes is wrong

But It's not wrong... Right?

The clergy member who listened to her confession told her it wasn't wrong.

leading with that, she dives in.

She slides her hand under the band of her panties, flinching at the foreign feeling but continuing. She props her legs up, planting the soles of her feet flat on her mattress.

She slides a single finger through her folds, gasping at the new and exciting touch. She feels a thick wet mixture on her fingers, moving it around. As she does so, she touches a certain part of herself that makes her gasp softly, her back arching as another flash of lightning hits. Deciding that she likes the feeling, she circles that spot, her index finger drawing lazy shapes.

Her body twitches, her toes curling as her eyes roll back.

This was an all-new feeling that she quickly became accustomed to. She doesn't understand why masturbation is such a taboo,

It was euphoric.

As she draws lazy patterns, gasping and whimpering softly, her closet door creaks open...But she doesn't stop. In the back of her mind, she thought it was whatever shadow she's been seeing the last few months coming to get her.

But it wasn't the shadow...

It was Father Matt.

It seems as if the whole house shakes with the booming thunder, lightning striking once more as he moves closer to her.

Her jaw drops as a shock goes through her body, her eyes fixated on Matt.

"You look perfect Angel....Masturbating right under the lord's eye." His eyes fall on the cross right above the head of her bed.

The erotic words make her back arch.

She feels that hot coil in her abdomen again, her finger moving faster to reach that high from before.

"Oh God, Matt!"

Matt smirks at her, his hand coming down to grip her jaw, "You're so close Angel...and yet, you're not going to finish."

Before she could question his confusing words, her door was slammed open.

Her head turns and her eyes land on the baffled and enraged faces of her parents. She snatches her hand from her underwear, her eyes wide in fright. She yanks her nightgown down as she sits up, her heart thumping in her chest as her father marches toward her.

"Daddy wait I ca-" Her face whips to the side, her body falling to the floor.

"How dare you! You're a Sinner, a Jezebel!"

His voice echoes throughout the home, mixing with the sound of booming thunder. Tears form in her eyes as she looks up at him, "I-I'm not a Sinner! I'm not a Jezebel! What I did was ok, I felt good! It's not a sin!" Her parents stare at her with wide eyes, their ears ringing as they hear her words.

"S-she's possessed... She needs to be cleansed." Her mother murmured, her face pale and looking sick. Y/n turns to her mother in fright, "W-what? No no! I'm not possessed! I swear to God-You lie under God's name!" Her father shouts once more. He grabs her by her arm, yanking her to her feet and yelling in her face.

"I always knew you were a hellion, getting into trouble by claiming you would see shadows, and had an imaginary friend named Matthew!"

He scoffs in disgust, barely able to look at her.

"You're a liar, a sinner, an awful excuse of a daughter." He begins to pull her out of the bedroom, ignoring her cries and pleas to stop. He drags her down the stairs, not caring about the way she misses a few steps and falls.

He yanks her back up and pulls her out of the home, the harsh falling rain drenching their bodies.

"Daddy stop! Please! I'm sorry! I'll do better! I'll pra-PRAYING WON'T SAVE YOU NOW!" Just as his words fly out, lightning strikes a nearby tree, the branches falling into the street immediately.

"We need to get to the church!"

While soaking wet from the rain, her father shoves her into the backseat of the car. The two adults climb into the front of the car and fly out of the driveway, heading straight to the church.

Y/n sits in the backseat sobbing. She doesn't know what she did wrong, she was told it was ok.

"Please! I-it was an accident! It won't happen again!" she pleads hopelessly. "You're damn right it won't!" Her father shouts as he quickly parks the car.

He tries to pull her out of the car but she fights back, kicking and screaming at him to get away from her. In a fit of rage, he grabs a handful of wet curls, yanking her out of the car.

She yells in pain, her knees dragging against the wet and rough pavement.

The clergy was currently having a meeting, the main fathers' gathered around the podium, talking about Sunday service. They were in the middle of choosing what scriptures to read when suddenly the doors burst open, the family of three tumbling in.

"Oh my, what's going on here?" Father Marcus asks as everyone looks at the crying girl in her father's arms.

Y/n's father drags her towards the priests, "Forgive us for intruding, but we need your help! Y/n she's-she's possessed!"

The fathers gasp at their words.

"Possessed? What do you mean possessed?" Father Jon asks as he stares at the crying girl. " Tell them what you did!" her father sneers. She shakes her head, too embarrassed and frightened to even speak.

he throws her down to the floor, yelling at her to confess her sins.

"He told me it was ok! H-he told me sex and touching myself was ok!" she sobs once more.

The fathers gape in shock, this was new for her. She was usually so bright and innocent, always following the right path, but they have noticed a difference as of late.

"I have noticed a difference, she's not as bright as she used to be...Always looking off into corners as if she sees things." Father Garrison speaks lowly. "Please, help us! Do what you did before, she needs he-Dousing her in holy water won't help."

Everyone turns to Father Matt as he speaks, "What do you mean Matthew?"

"I mean that she needs more than just holy water."

The other fathers look at each other, then back at the new member.

"Then what do you suggest?"

Matt's eyes fall on the mess of a girl on the ground, staring down at her with hungry eyes as she looks up at him with tears.

"An Exorcism"

PT 2!!!! WHAT WE THINKING YALL?!?!?! SEND IN STUFF TO MY INBOX WITH YOUR THOUGHTS OR EVEN JUST COMMENT!!

𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨 𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 🍑: @mattslolita @thenickgirl @guccifrog @luverboychris @zayyluvz @mrsmiagreer @chrisssluttywaist @78yaz @hoesformatt @freshloveforthefit @3lizaluvs @mattsturniolosgirlfriend @jetaimevous @luxy-nyx @ts-is-my-spirt-animal @iihrtsturniol0 @idontexistman @katw4shereee @madisturn @starlace111 @zivall @adoreindie @imwetforyourmom @sturnsxplr-25 @sturncakez @theyluvme-2315 @moonk1ss3d @@babyalliah-777 @sturniololol @oliviasturniolo21 @ariithereyet @blahbel668

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