#Dev Patel x reader

[hisbuni]

“my pretty baby” and i’m talking about a grown man who could pick me up and throw me any way he’d like.

[littlemsdelulu]

me when i find a new celebrity crush to overly obsess about

[chaithetics]

Late Night Mends

Pairing: Kid (Monkey Man) x reader

Word count: 2.1K

Warning: 18+ MDNI, mentions of anxiety, injuries, not a lot of spice, some fluff, not proof/beta read lol, does not contain spoilers for Monkey Man.

Note: Absolutely am in love with Dev Patel, he adores the world and fandom love! Also special mention to my friend @mittos who helped with this prompt/story ideas. Go and see Monkey Man if you haven't already! And if you have go and see it again! Also jaan is a Hindi term of endearment. Also can we take a moment for Dev Patel's side profile?! Comments, and reblogs are always appreciated as well! I hope you enjoy!

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It was late, extremely late. It had been a slow night but it was quickly becoming the latest it had ever been without his tired, bloody presence. It made you uncomfortable how late it was becoming, he never took this long to show up after a big match. You bit your nails as you couldn’t help but think about the possibility of where he was and scarily, what condition he was in. 

It was a risky field that Kid was in, especially when he was the losing dog for the overeager, sweaty crowd not to bet on. He took the punches and rarely complained about it, you’d only ever been to one of his fights before and never again. It was too painful to watch, you’d bitten each of your fingernails right down to the beds, and you swore that it gave you a few grey hairs. If you had any, each of them could be traced back to being his fault, you were sure. You loved him, truly adored him, but he certainly knew how to stress you out. 

You’re sitting down waiting for him to arrive. You don’t even realise that you’ve put your hand up to your face to bite your nails but now you know that you must’ve as you’ve been subconsciously biting them as you look out the window waiting, lost in your thoughts. You could think and use that as a distraction but no, the more you think or gaze off, the more you think about him, worry about him and overanalyse every little thing to be analysed, including what would need a magnifying glass to do so. You sigh and rub your face tiredly and also as another poor attempt at a distraction to take your mind away from him. 

It was a ridiculous thought, nothing could distract you from him, Kid lived rent-free in your mind 24/7, no matter what you did or wanted. And now was his prime time for filling your head. 

You rub your face some more and then look up, you can hear the door quietly open and the sound of gentle footsteps start to make their way to you. You look up as you try to glimpse the start of his lean shadow to confirm that he’s really, really, finally here. The light switch turns on as you see his arm stretch out and then he’s standing there in your doorway. 

You look up at him as he stands, he just looks at you for a moment. His gorgeous doe-eyes are wide, he looks exhausted and defeated but there’s a small smile on his face as his eyes meet yours. Ever since you’d known Kid, he had always been a man of few words, which seemed to balance out just how expressive his handsome face was. You liked that though, that his eyes truly were the window to his soul. You did like his voice though as well, you’d have no problem with him using it more. Sometimes he would talk though, about his sweet mother, the stories of Hanuman that his mother had told him and that had vividly stuck with and inspired him still. 

You quickly take him in, there’s sweat in his hair, a cut in his cheek, and his knuckles are bloody as always. You bite your lip as you look at him, chewing over your words so you don’t come across as either a scolding lover or treating him like a patient. 

“Your hands…” You finally say as he steps closer to you and you can see that he made some attempt to cover them with a bit of cloth but the blood is all over his right hand. 

“It’s fine.” He says in a soft whisper, his voice is melodic as always but a little hoarse and deep. He looks down at his hand he tries not to flinch when you take his hand and it’s further proof that no, it really isn’t fine. You sigh and move his hand to check his fingers, it causes discomfort but based on the movement you know it’s not broken at least. It was genuinely impressive that he was still alive, still functioning and not just with everything he’d been through as a young boy, but with the amount of beatings he’d taken at the club. That he’d somehow avoided major damage to his body, that his handsome looks were still intact, and also his teeth. That was a big surprise you had to admit. 

“Sit down.” You look at him with a look of concern, one that he doesn’t like. “Come on, I’ll clean it up.” You say softly.  He runs his right hand, his good hand through his damp but perfect locks and he sighs, sitting down, waiting for you to fix his wounds and to feel your tender touch. 

You’d had the first aid kit ready to go, sitting on the floor waiting for his entrance. You always used it, he always needed it. Your medical background certainly helped, some nights you’d crack a joke that that was the only reason why he was with you. The first time you made that joke his eyes widened at first, and he immediately stuttered to try and reassure her that that wasn’t the case. He didn’t realise that it was a joke. You’d kissed him to reassure him and he kissed you back so sweetly. Now when you made the joke he’d just look at you and give you a small, precious chuckle. You just want to make him smile, make him laugh, bring him joy, and make him feel safe. He deserved that at the very least, especially with his gigantic hug. 

His hand clearly had taken the worst of it, you hold it gently in yours, and his hand twitches for a moment. He’s spent most of his life being devoid of affection. He craved a gentle touch, to feel seen and safe in the company of another. He’d started to find that with you, in the way you looked at him, how you carefully held his hand in arms when cleaning an injury and wrapping it up. You somehow had never noticed it, he figured it was because of how attentive you were to his injuries, to him, and his lips quirked up into a secret smile you’d miss over the irony of you not noticing this because of how attentive you were being to him. 

“You were later than usual.” You say as you clean his bruised and bloodied knuckles. 

“I know.” He whispers as he looks up at you, he’s tired but there’s a small smile on his lips as he knows the scolding is incoming, just what degree is it going to be from you tonight, is the question. 

“I was worried, my fingernails are almost as bloody as your knuckles because of how much I was biting them.” You say as you try to clean his hand gently, noting how his hand occasionally twitches in response.

“Would’ve been quite a match.” He whispers before he looks at your hands, noticing your nervously bitten nails. His cheeks heat up as he can’t help but feel a little bit of guilt about causing you to worry so, he’s spent so much of his life without someone who cares about him like this. You sigh and roll your eyes at his response. 

“You’re going to be the cause of every single grey hair I have in this lifetime.” You say as you treat the knuckle wounds, making sure you’re gentle. “All I do is worry, you spend every night getting beaten, thrown off tables. It’s going to be too much one day. Something will go wrong. Then what?” Kid can’t help but look up at you, it’s a conversation that’s happened more than a few times. “What if it’s your spine or something? I won’t be able to fix that-�� “It’s okay. It’s fine. I’m okay, jaan.” He says as he looks up at you, his big brown eyes are widened and he’s looking at you with his sad puppy dog eyes, he feels bad for making you worry so much. 

You sigh, biting your lip as you try to stop yourself from saying anything else. He’s too sweet and so you nod and finish cleaning and bandaging everything. After a moment, you cup his cheek as you look at his warm eyes and you go to get him some water to drink. He watches you and continues to as he drinks the water. You two have become quite good at playing a game of watching each other, almost like it’s a sport to observe the other. 

He looks at you, tilting his head which tousles the gorgeous locks he has a little. You sigh and run a hand through his soft brown curls, damp with sweat but somehow miraculously not blood. His hair has always been absolutely perfect. You feel bad for essentially venting your anxieties at him right as he’s come from a long night of work at the club. 

“I only scold because I care.” You say but you’re not sure if it’s him or yourself that you’re trying to convince more as you say the words, but it’s true technically. “It’s a form of doting really.” You say as you look at him as he adjusts in his seated position, looking up at you with his wide, doe-eyed orbs. Even if it was a form of doting, you could never stay mad at him for long when having to look into those gorgeous eyes. They’d melt away any troubles and you’re sure if awards were given out for best brown eyes, he’d win. You hated that he did this, that this was how he had to get by. That he had to take these awful, unhealthy beatings but you love him anyway.

He was freshly bandaged now, he moved his hand up and Kid started to slowly caress your cheek, he traced some invisible line so gently with the pads of his fingertips as he looked at you. His doe eyes were filled with adoration and peacefulness as he concentrated on your beauty. You let him, it was soothing and sweet and you had no reason to even consider stopping this. You were his and he was yours. 

Your eyes glance down at his fingers, and then you put a hand up to cup his cheek and look into the most beautiful eyes you could ever imagine seeing. After he feels your touch his eyes quickly close and he inhales. He isn’t sure if he’ll ever get used to the feeling of your fingers on his face, of how your hair feels against his skin, or your breath, but he knows for sure, that he’ll at least never tire of it. 

His fingers glide down do your mouth and he traces your lips as he looks at them. He tilts his head and before he can even move, you’ve moved your head to press your lips together. There’s something about how gentle his hands are with you, how they feel even after everything that has happened to him and that he does. How it just takes a glance at you for him to melt into a puddle. 

You put your hand back into his hair and run it through his curls as he kisses you back and the kiss deepens almost immediately. He cups your cheek gently as your lips move together in sync and you can’t help but start to tug his locks a little and his hand moves to your waist to hold you close against him. You continue to play and tug his hair as his lips move down your chin and jaw and he kisses your neck. You gasp out and tug on his hair a bit more as you feel his breath tickle your throat between his passionate kisses. You struggle to not let out a giggle as he does this and you feel your cheeks heating up as you tilt your head back so your neck is as exposed as possible for him while he kisses your throat and makes his way to your collarbone. 

He always gets like this, and so quickly. He just needs a little touch, the reassurance of you being there and he feels an all-consuming need to make up for the years of loneliness, the lack of affection, the lack of physical contact outside of a fight he was guaranteed to lose. He has you in his arms and it’s something right for once, if it was a game this would be a victory, some kind of peace.

[mieldreams]

I think I might have a

type

(alexa play just my type by the vamps)

[stargirlfics]

DEV PATEL BLURBS

18+ CONTENT - smut, fluff and comfort

What aftercare is like with Dev

What I think his kinks are

Size kink smut

Dev Patel x Inexperienced!Reader headcanons

Inexperienced!Reader part 2

Waking him up on his birthday ;)

Honeymoon sex w Dev

Giving him head while he plays video games

Brat tamer!Dev headcanons

He comforts you after a hard day

Professor!Dev AU

Dev as your bf headcanons

Rainy day in bed together

Mutual masturbation w Dev

Dancing to old records in the house with him

Worshipful steaminess w Dev

[royalsunshinehotel]

Hellooooo, I hope this ask finds you well! If at all possible could you do some form of drabble of Kid with his obvious thing for biting?

He’s cute. 

You already knew that, but it does bear repeating. He comes to see you every now and again, more frequently now. It’s good to have him here with you, hiding away from the world. His face is resting against your belly, breathing softly while you tease his hair. 

The rain had stopped some time ago, but the humidity in the air left the two of you sticky in more ways than one. 

The light is low, but just enough to cast a gold light into your room. He shifts, and you see two round eyes looking up at you. 

You raise an eyebrow at him, daring him, just a little. Take a bite, if you want. 

He rolls you to your side smoothly, taking some of the flesh of your shoulder between his teeth. He doesn’t bite down, not really. He just keeps you there for a minute, before working his way down again. 

He seems a bit happier after he gnaws on you, he’s a beast sometimes, but not here. 

You gasp when his mouth works down to the meat of your ass. His teeth grip down harder. 

Not pain - but almost. 

He moves you as he pleases, chewing the entire way, settling back between your legs, comfortable, as the rain starts up again.

[spikershoyo]

why do they look the same

[thatg8rl]

I definitely know that dev patel fans on this app r starved asf

[ellethelynx]

❥ Dev Patel dating headcannon!

- He's definitely a golden retriever, I must say. We cannot hide from the truth which is: he's a very active person, always on something, doing things, etc.

- He talks a lot...a lot. Rambling anything that passes through his mind (he loves to share his thoughts with you).

- Dev is a warm person. Loves to smack you with kisses. Slow ones, eager ones, simple pecks, wet smooches, GEEZ!

- I have a feeling dev is a silly romantic. Like he would appear one day using a sweatshirt with your initials written on.

- He would combine your outfits secretly. You both are almost ready to go, you're using something black and white for example, he would RUN and change to match your pallet. YES I KNOW WHAT I'M SAYING!

(+ he would deny in the beginning of your relationship but further would confess proudly)

- He cannot cook... I mean it. But he knows how to chop so...you guys can try to have a dinner date thing... Don't recommend it though... He's messy...

- Dev is a tall man but he loves to have you in front of him, to watch you downwards with puppy eyes waiting for you to get closer. He's waiting for you to finish talking so he can grab your thighs, pull you to his lap and kiss under your hair.

- Observers while you talk about your day attentively. Takes some mental notes: bring some baked goods in the next day to cheer you up.

- Doesn't like to cook but loves to feed you and have you all comfie and warmed up, all cuddly.

- At last, he's pathetically in love with you.

[imninahchan]

𓏲 ๋࣭ ࣪ ˖ 𐙚 ⌜ 𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐒: friends to lovers, dev homem patético com síndrome de second lead, size kink, masturbação masculina, dirty talk, a leitora é uma loba, sexo sem proteção [todo herói tem que usar capa] ⁞ ♡ ̆̈ ꒰ 𝑵𝑶𝑻𝑨𝑺 𝑫𝑨 𝑨𝑼𝑻𝑶𝑹𝑨 ꒱ eu disse que agr teríamos 6 fics dele nesse site, a win is a win fml ─ Ꮺ !

⠀⠀⠀

⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ───── 𓍢ִ໋🀦

“E COMO FOI O ENCONTRO?”, ele te pergunta, enquanto termina de guardar as compras pra você no armário de parede.

Você cruza os braços, o corpo pendendo pra parede, ao observá-lo desempacotar tudo e colocar direitinho nos lugares em que você costuma deixar. É incrível como Dev não se esquece de nenhum detalhe, mesmo depois de tanto tempo. Não se esquece de nada sobre você. “Ele me pediu em namoro.”

Nesse momento, o barulho do papel de embrulho e das portas do armário sendo fechadas se cessa. É como se, embora de costas pra ti, você ainda conseguisse ver a expressão que assombra a face masculina. Com certeza, os olhinhos escuros estão paralisados, abertos, sem vida. Os lábios separados. O ar preso dentro dos pulmões, porque escuta o suspiro que vem a seguir, precedendo um nossa, que legal, que era pra soar animador, porém só demonstra o contrário.

Um sorriso bobo se estica no seu rosto.

“E você aceitou, né?”, ele quer saber mais, incapaz de se virar para te encarar. “Você ʽtava bem a fim dele.” E que bom que o homem não está te vendo, pois o jeito tolo que você sorri, passa as mãos pela face tentando conter uma risadinha, denunciaria totalmente o suspense que planejou fazer nesta manhã. Não, o responde, após se esforçar ao máximo para soar neutra.

Agora, ele vira o rosto na sua direção.

A mão ainda segurando na maçaneta da porta do armário, o enlatado na mão prontinho para ser guardado, mas a carinha de personagem de comédia romântica que acabou de receber uma notícia que vai levá-lo para o final feliz do filme é mais importante. As íris brilham. Grandes. Pupilas dilatadas e tudo.

“Mas por quê?”, o questionamento ecoa genuíno. “Ele é um cara legal”, defende, “é basicamente o que você ʽtava procurando, não é? ”, se encosta na bancada, “Eu entendo que às vezes você tem muito medo de se apaixonar, mas você nunca vai conseguir ninguém se não permitir tentar pelo menos uma vez.”

Dev, você chama, com bom humor, um risinho brotando no automático, assim que se põe a caminhar na direção dele, de braços abertos para envolvê-lo, “é sério”, ele resmunga, sorrindo por osmose. Também tô falando sério, devolve, séria pra passar credibilidade, mas depois perde tudo quando solta outro riso. Abraça a cintura dele, o queixo se erguendo para olhar nos olhos alheios. Se sente pequenininha tentando escalar uma árvore para colher um fruto apetitoso ao perder-se no desenho da boca à sua frente. Desejosa. Ambiciosa. Acompanha a respiração do Patel; calma, inflando e esvaziando o peito, porém sente o contraste que vem dos batimentos acelerados. É que não tem sentido eu continuar procurando quando eu já achei você.

É tão bonita a forma com que os olhinhos dele parecem ainda mais cheios. Os ombros caem, o ar abandona os pulmões outra vez, como se o corpo maior fosse desabar, sensível, nos seus braços a qualquer momento.

Tirou um peso da consciência, definitivamente. Já deveria ter dito isso há uns meses, no entanto sempre tinha receios — seja um possível cenário em que o perdia, em que nada dava certo e era uma completa catástrofe. Mas o quão boba foi, não? Era óbvio que estava apaixonada por ele, e melhor, ele por você. Dev é irreversivelmente apaixonado por você.

Como hoje, ele não precisava estar aqui, guardando todas as suas compras pra ti. Não precisava ser essa pessoa que está sempre do seu lado, pra qualquer coisa. Não precisava fazer da mãe dele a sua segunda mãe aqui em Londres, nem se sacrificar tanto pra realizar os seus desejos. Cuidar de ti quando bebe demais com saudades de casa, cozinhar sua comida favorita pra beijar seu sofrimento. Ler seus livros preferidos, ouvir as músicas que ouve e estar onde você está. Muito menos ser aquele que está acariciando a sua bochecha enquanto você dorme, depois de uma noite inteirinha em claro com ansiedade sobre o futuro em terras estrangeiras.

Mas ele faz.

Você pega a lata da mão dele, deixa na bancada. Os olhos masculinos te assistem, cada ação, concentrado, imóvel. Os fios pretinhos ganham um carinho teu, o toque suave escorregando por entre as ondinhas até alcançar o maxilar e deslizar na linha pela aspereza da barba. “Você é um bobo”, sussurra, ao que ele, atônito, só consegue fazer que sim, “ia me deixar ficar com outro cara quando me quer.”

É porque eu te amo, a voz dele vem baixinha, soprada. É tão suave, docinha, que você não contém o sorriso. Tira os pezinhos do chão para juntar a sua boca na dele. Dev se entrega ao beijo, ao estalar molhado dos lábios, o peso do corpo masculino tombando na sua direção, guiando até te prensar contra a geladeira. Ele segura com ambas as mãos os cantos do seu rosto, enquanto as suas descem pelo torso dele, se agarram à barra da blusa e suspendem a peça. Você não quer deixar transparecer o tesão quando o vê seminu, e pra sua sorte, o britânico está absorto no desejo da sua boca que nem nota o seu olhar nada discreto para o abdômen dele.

Está devorando os seus lábios, chupando a sua língua, alheio ao barulhinho metálico do próprio cinto sendo desafivelado por ti, ou do fecho dos jeans sendo desfeito. Só é afetado quando sente a sua palma quente envolvendo a ereção, nos primeiros movimentos da punheta. Oh, fuck, murmura, teso, pegando no seu pulso. Você sorri, o vê de olhinhos fechados, apenas permitindo que o toque como quiser, e acha tanta beleza na rendição dele.

O peitoral se enchendo, ofegante. Por entre os lábios entreabertos, não reverbera somente o ruído da respiração descompassada, mas também o som meigo dos gemidos curtos, extremamente tímidos. O seu ego vai nas alturas, de nariz em pé. “Agora é uma boa hora de admitir todas as vezes que bateu uma pensando em mim”, murmura, viperina. Dev sorri, culpado, com dificuldade até para estender os lábios, quando o toque dos seus dedos foca em massagear a cabecinha inchada. “Pode admitir, vai”, e você continua, “tanta porra que podia ter jogado em mim...”

Ele encosta a testa na sua, suspira. É como se lutasse contra a vontade do próprio corpo para não se deixar levar pelo prazer e se desfazer agora, aqui nas suas mãos no meio da cozinha. E, felizmente, vence. Toma ambos os seus pulsos, torna a boca pra sua num ósculo confuso, mas necessitado, intenso, enquanto te guia para a sala de estar. Passos curtos, apressados, cambaleando por entre os móveis do apartamento pequeno. Eu preciso te foder tanto, o escuta sussurrar, ébrio.

Depois que te deita no sofá, nem se preocupa muito em te despir por completo. Quer estar dentro de você, te invadir, encher. Deliciosamente cego, patético na maneira desesperadinha que te livra da calça, da peça íntima. Mais tolinho ainda quando se encaixa em ti e empurra devagarzinho, quase numa catarse, as mãos no seu quadril, te erguendo do estofado para conseguir ir o mais fundo possível.

Você tranca as pernas na cintura dele, se diverte com o ânsia masculina. Dev se coloca inteiro, vem e vai de modo a atender a todo o apetite que vem guardando há meses por ti. Rápido, as estocadas soando alto, babadas, os olhos flagrando o anel de porra branquinha que se forma ao redor do pau. A projeção do corpo masculino te cobre todinha, uma sensação gostosa de se sentir pequenininha sob o homem. Os músculos dos braços fortes e da barriga contraindo a cada estocada funda que te acerta, contrastando com a fragilidade de quem está metendo em ti com todo o cérebro, usando feito uma bonequinha, sem fôlego, até suando nas têmporas, mas tão, tão determinado a te rechear que chega a ser fofo. Pô, deveria ter dado pra ele antes...

[jd-loves-fiction]

𝐎𝐩𝐢𝐚

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

✦ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Sir Gawain x GN!Reader

✦ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: smut + fluff

✦ 𝐰𝐜: 2.2k

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

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

Stupid quest. Stupid forest. Stupid rainwater puddle.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Gawain…”

“Hmm? Are you going to beg? Go on.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Just please fuck me, please.”

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

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

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

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

[hisbuni]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[ohcaptains]

on my hands and knees begging for ur monkey man thoughts whether it's fanfic or just the movie pls PLS PLS PLS-

i think about that hand touch scene soooo much. like the gentle caress of his hand against hers, and they’re both covered in blood. just the knowledge that they’re so so similar and ohhhhhh.

random monkey man fic thoughts under the cut

you work at the club as one of the girls, and see him in the kitchen, see him around the bar, and he’s always just watching you…like, studying you, and he almost goes to say something, but never does. so intense. you communicate without language, until he sees you nursing a bloody lip in the back alley, and queenie scorning you for overstepping your mark. nobody wants a smart girl, she sneers, before stepping back into the club.

he comes out of the shadows, curly hair hanging on his forehead, with beads of sweat running down his neck. you flinch from your seat on the barrel, and he holds his hands up, walking towards you as if you’re a frightened cat.

when he eventually nears you, he pulls a handkerchief out of his pocket, and displays it so you can see. once you give him a short nod, he reaches out and wipes the blood from your split lip.

he catches you with his big, brown eyes.

she’s wrong, you know. about nobody wanting a smart girl.

[chaithetics]

Where to Put My Hands

Pairing: Kid (Monkey Man) x plus size f (afab) reader Prompt: Reader having a fixation on him and his hands and him doing something about it. Word count: 1.4K (I tried to keep it concise lol) Warnings: 18+ MDNI, fluff/comfort, smut. Reader doesn't have any other physical descriptions other than being plus size. Not proof/ beta read. A/N: I'm so excited to share our first Fics for Palestine! (Learn more at that post) Our kind donator has wished to remain anon but a massive thanks to them! I hope you all enjoy this Monkey Man fic!!! Let's keep rising Dev hive! Comments and reblogs are always welcomed and appreciated! 🫶 P.S. Keep doing what you can to support Palestine! It's all important, whether it's donating, contacting your local and relevant political reps, sharing and engaging with resources and posts, showing up to local events etc. Here is a post I made with free things to do from home to help Palestine. Much love 🖤❤️🤍💚

Kid and you were lying down, he was a man of few words, even in tender moments. But you weren’t bothered, you’re holding one of his hands with both of yours, running your fingers over him. Every side of his hands and then up his forearm, exploring every inch of skin. With each day of your relationship, you’d been able to warm up a part of him that had been shut off for so long. 

He looked at you as you focused on his hands, your favourite body part of his. While you’d melted him, his hands and everything they could do had continued to melt you (in their special way) more and more each day as well. His brown eyes were warm as he took in all of you, how your eyes were fixed on his hands, the gentle touch of your hands, how the sweet smile you wear makes your full cheeks look, how your soft arms looked in the evening light. His beautiful personification of peace. 

“Is it weird that I just want to be seen by you?” His voice is quiet, it often is, and there’s a vulnerable look on his face, his eyes searching for reassurance. There’s something so warm and comforting about being in this relationship but it’s an extremely new and vulnerable feeling for him. 

“Not at all.” You whisper as you rub his wrist gently with your forefinger and thumb. “I see you.” you respond as your gaze turns to him and you smile. 

He smiles at that, clearly feeling comforted in the unexplored waters he’s swimming deeper and deeper into each day. Kid moves and presses a soft kiss to your lips, slowly deepening it as he moves his hand out of yours so he can cup your full cheeks. 

You’d initially relaxed easily into the kiss and were content with it, that was until he’d moved his hand. It was pretty rude considering it had been a strong fixation of yours lately, something he knew. “Hey,” you whispered, “I wasn’t done playing with your hands.” You whisper in a voice that sounds almost annoyed, he tries to distract you with another deeper kiss. 

“Really?” His voice has a slightly playful tinge. “Do my hands belong to you now, jaan?” 

“Yes. It’s in the relationship rules.”

“Well I better put them to good use, I suppose…” He leaned back and then sat on his ankles as he looked at you. “Because I don’t know where to put my hands...” He teases you but there’s a knowing look in his eyes. Oh, how those big brown orbs mesmerise and melt you. 

Kid uses his knee to spread your legs out and then moves so he’s kneeling between them. He caresses your soft jawline for a moment, his fingers gently holding your chin for a moment as his free hand starts to run along your thick thighs. You breathe in a sharp inhale as you look at him, you know what’s going to happen but each cell in your body is buzzing with anticipation still. 

You watch him with bated breath as he runs his fingers along the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, his eyes are looking at his hands as he explores this intimate area of you. His hand that had gently been holding your chin let go, letting his fingers fall, travelling over your chest, where he gave your left breast a squeeze that made you gasp and bite your lip. 

His hands then glide along the smooth, softness of your round stomach he runs his fingers along where stretch marks and moles are and he takes a soft breath in as he looks up at you. He moves his hand over to palm you above your underwear, you let out a small whine and your head falls back. His left hand massages the plump flesh of your thigh as he continues to palm and move his hand along above your underwear, teasingly.

“Please…. Please…” You beg in desperation as your hips thrust up to try and meet his hand. To be buried against it, in desperate need of more friction and pressure. A need only he can satisfy.

He can hear the neediness in your voice, he can feel it radiating off of you, and he can feel it against his hand. He quickly pulls your underwear down, lifting one of your legs slightly so it’s off and just hanging around the other one. He moves his hands closer to your needy hole, dancing around your inner thighs for a moment. You breathe in shakily as the feeling almost tickles. 

You watch him as he palms you once again, his other hand is now gripping your round hips, starting to run his fingers around your vulva, slowly along your folds to tease you, watching your reaction. Amazed at the power he has over your body, his ability to please you with just his hands. His fingers were touching every part of you but your hole that wanted to swallow him, or your clitoris. 

Kid can see the need in your eyes, how you're looking at him letting out soft moans and gasps as he teases you. 

“Look at you, good girl… such a good girl…” He whispers in that voice that makes you let out a small whine as he rubs your bundle of nerves in a circular motion with his thumb. 

He continues and then slips a finger into your hole, it’s barely in, just a teasing taste as he watches you. Drinking in your reaction, the way your back arches and then comes back down as your hips thrust up to try and swallow more of him, to feel him deeper inside of you. Kid obliges and quickly moves his finger in deeper which pulls the sweetest moan out of you that makes him smile. 

You let out a chorus of moans growing louder as you feel him move his finger deeper and deeper as he moves it back and forth, it’s at this point that he inserts another finger which makes you whine and close your eyes. It’s an incredible sight to him as he watches this. He moves his fingers at the most perfect rhythm that he knows will bring you closer. 

He moves a hand to squeeze your breast again, to run it along your nipple as he keeps pumping his fingers in and out of you. You’re whining as it’s building up deliciously, in an overwhelming way. He brings his hand back down and he starts to give your clitoris more attention again, just as it deserves. He rubs your clitoris faster, applying a little more pressure which makes you cry out. “Does that feel good? Do my hands feel good? Is this what you wanted, what you were thinking about before?” He asks as he keeps going faster and building to that rhythm that he knows is going to make you release. 

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” You whine out as you nod frantically, you have one hand gripping his shoulder as he keeps moving. All you can think of is his touch and you know you’re on the edge, he’s bringing you there and you’re whining louder. “Go on, be a good girl…” He says as he keeps this current pace of pumping, he’d slipped a third finger in and he’s now giving equal attention to both your sweet spot of nerves and your vagina equal attention. He’s urging you to release, he knows your close. You nod and whine out as you know you’re almost there. He continues and it feels perfect, your back starts to arch as you feel your eyes roll back as you claw his shoulder and come. You come hard and it’s perfect, equally what you knew his hands would give you. Exactly what you’d been fantasising about as you’d held his hands earlier. 

You let out a deep breath, Kid gives you some time to recover from that release but he spends the rest of the night praising you as he gives you exactly what you wanted. Showing you just how he can use his hands and how good they feel.

[anjaelle]

A beat passed in the conversation and your tongue darted out to lick coffee from the corner of your mouth. You watched his eyes track the action as he took a slow, deep breath.

"Careful," you cooed, swiveling the chair around to redirect your attention back to your computer, "wouldn't want You-Know-Who to get mad, again.” You took another drink from the plastic cup and smiled subtly to yourself, peeking at him over your shoulder.

"I don't particularly understand it, it's not like she has anything to worry about. Right, D?"

- Work/Wife Balance (Dev Patel x Reader)

[sodacatz]

I'm so down bad for this man it's not even funny