#Din said 'not you. you can choke.' | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gay-dorito-dust · 4 months

Note

*shuffles in* au where Luke is good and where he tries to pursue Percy’s older sister reader (reader also likes Luke too)?

Recently you’ve began to take notice how every interaction you had with Luke -past a certain period of time- had shifted somewhat in a different direction that had only seem plausible within your dreams.

What was it that had changed?

He has began to enclose the distance between you and started ramping up the physical affection that anytime you talked to him, it felt as though you were pushing the boundaries between romantic and platonic. Not to mention how when he needed to get back to his camp duties he seemed to hesitate on the idea of leaving your side, his already dark eyes somehow had gotten even more darker in colour with disappointment that your time was cut short, and the way his hand seemed to share the same disappointment by slowly moving down your arm and lingering at your hand longer then usual before pulling away completely; leaving a trail of warmth in it’s wake as though it was still slowly dragging it’s way down your arm.

‘See you at dinning pavilion yeah?’ He’d always ask and you’d always say yes, which seemed to be the right thing to say as his smile became a little less forced and more genuine and his eyes brightened at the prospect of seeing you again, as though it was the only thing that mattered most to him.

Today was no different than any other. It started out like it usually does, with you waking up, getting Percy up and heckling him a little as you tended to do before the both of you got changed and started marking your way out to start the day, where you saw Luke standing nearby the steps of the dinning pavilion, obviously waiting for someone.

Percy to scoff and nudge you in the side. ‘Lover boy is waiting for you, again.’

‘He isn’t my lover boy Percy, so lay off him alright.’ You replied, playfully shoving him by the shoulder and ruffling his hair, smiling when he batted your hand away, unamused.

‘I don’t know,’ he drew out, ‘it seems to me that you’re the only one at camp who’s oblivious to the fact that he’s trying to woo you and doing it way too hard in my opinion.’ He muttered the last bit under his breath as he tried concentrating on sorting out his hair. ‘And besides it’s not like he’s trying to make an attempt in hiding it either I mean look at him! He looks like an excited puppy dog seeing their owner after a while with you!’ Just as Percy said those words, Luke’s expression immediately brightens upon seeing you and he starts to make his way over.

‘Heya Sea angel.’ He greeted before realising that Percy was also there, hands on his hips and looking at him with a raised brow, and laughed. ‘Heya Percy.’ Your brother only smiled briefly at him, ‘hi Luke,’ he said shortly only to then look towards you and patting your arm sympathetically. ‘See ya later coral for brains, don’t choke now will you?’ He smirked teasingly before leaving you both to yourselves; You wanted to smack your brother upside the head for his comment but instead said ‘say hi to Annabeth for me will ya fish breathe?’ At this Percy only looked back at you with a look that told you that’s exactly where he was going, causing you to laugh at how well you knew your brother.

You looked back to Luke and saw him staring at you with a look you only seen him give you in your dreams, a soft look in his eyes that seemed permanently locked onto you and a dopey smile, you had to subtly pinch your arm to make sure that you were awake and not still sleeping before clearing your throat and smiling at him.

‘Heya golden boy, have I ever told you that it’s a mystery how you can always be all bright and chipper at this time whilst the rest of us look like dead.’ You joked and despite not thinking it was at all that funny, Luke still laughed and you didn’t notice that you were showing more attention to the way he ran his fingers through his dark hair until he began speaking. ‘Well maybe I have something that I always look forward to seeing first thing every morning.’ You didn’t know if you were reaching but the way Luke worded that and the way he was looking at you made you believe that he was talking about you in that moment.

‘Whatever it must be has got to be quite important, especially if you’re willing to get up this early.’ You replied, hoping that you weren’t looking eager or desperate so early into your conversation to knowing who this mysterious person was.

‘Yeah they really are.’ Luke admits as he steps closer to you and reaches to brush something off of your shoulder, but let’s his hand linger there as his thumb absently begins to stroke patterns into your clothed skin; You swallowed thickly and tried to remain focused and not let all of your attention to be drawn to the hand on your shoulder. ‘So Luke Castellan, golden boy of Camp Half-Blood has a crush?’ You questioned, putting a hand over your chest as though hurt and sighed dramatically. ‘Whatever will your little groupies who clamber to watch you train will think of this?’

Luke scoffed at this as his hand squeezed your shoulder. ‘They’ll live and besides I’ve had my eyes on this person for a long while and have been trying to muster up the courage to ask them out on a date but only…’ He trails off as his hand drags down your arm excruciatingly slow before grasping your hand, causing your breath to hitch, his eyes seemed to flicker down to your lips on multiple occasions before settling on looking deeply into your eyes. ‘Only if they wanted to, that is.’ You swallowed the lump in your throat, suddenly hyperaware of how this all looked from an outsiders perspective, and feeling at a genuine loss for words but still tried your best to act unaffected.

‘What’s holding you back from doing so?’ You asked, voice barely above a whisper. ‘For all I’m aware you’re a great guy Luke, so I’m sure they’ll say yes because anybody would be lucky to date you.’ You heard Luke inhale deeply and you thought you said the wrong thing but before you could backtrack Luke had already beaten you and said;

‘Then date me.’

You blinked once, twice, three times. ‘I’m sorry?’

‘If you think I’m such a great guy, then why don’t you date me then?’ He continued.

‘I-i mean-‘ you were stammering now at his straightforwardness.

‘You just said that anyone would be lucky to have me, then be the one who’s lucky sea angel.’ He concludes, he was practically pinning you against one of the columns of the pavilion now, his forehead was pressed against your own and you could feel his lips brush against your own with every word that past your lips, you felt like you were going to faint then and there but held strong because when were you going to get another chance like this? ‘What’s happening right now?’ You asked, feeling a little lost and out of your element at this instance. You wanted it to be what you think this was, he was literally confessing to you but your brain couldn’t comprehend what your heart had been waiting for so long.

‘I’m asking you out sea angel.’ Luke said with a charming smile, ‘so what do you say?’

You didn’t need to think twice about your answer that came out of your mouth almost automatically. ‘Took you long enough Golden Boy because i originally thought I was going to have to make the first move. I’m glad that I’m wrong.’

‘So am I.’ Luke replied as he casted his eyes downwards to your lips, licking his own. ‘Can I kiss you now?’ You scoffed, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and closing the last remaining bit of distance between you two, muttering against his lips before passionately kissing him. ‘You didn’t need to ask but I appreciate the sentiment.’

#pjo x you #pjo x reader #pjo imagines #pjo imagine #pjo fanfic #pjo tv show #pjo series #Percy Jackson #percy jackson and the olympians #luke castellan x you #luke castellan fluff #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan imagines #luke castellan fanfic

723 notes · View notes

moonlight-prose · 8 months

Note

If you’re taking those as prompts, ❛ don’t you know what you’re doing to me? ❜ with Din perhaps?

LOVE IS A FIRE THAT BURNS UNSEEN

a/n: so i took forever on this, because i kind of fell out of writing for din for...well....awhile. i can tell you this sat in my wips folder half finished for months. honestly i was wondering if it would even get finished. but i was re-watching mando last night and decided why the fuck not. i can't remember which prompt list this was from because it's been so long, but that's okay. this is not beta read or edited, but we live and die by the pen.

summary: on your list of things that could possibly happen while bounty hunting with din, dying from hypothermia wasn't included. nor was finally admitting the truth to yourself about your feelings.

word count: 3.1k+

pairing: din djarin x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, near death experience, angst, feelings being admitted sort of, p in v sex, a hint of choking, they're so in love it's sickening.

It’s fucking cold in the Razor Crest as you sit in the cockpit waiting for his return. You’re bundled in a jacket that has seen better days, but even with the extra layers you swear you’ll freeze to death before he comes back. Tempted to turn the ship back on in order to get some heat—you do the most to distract yourself from the frost currently eating away at the skin of your face. Din’s instructions were clear. Keep the ship hidden until he comes back with the bounty, which would be simple enough.

That is if the bounty he was currently hunting resided on a planet with a temperature that wouldn’t kill you from exposure. Everything had been fine two hours ago. You were working on repairing an old comlink as he tracked the bounty through space, having caught their signal on the outer edges of the galaxy. Except then…they were attacked. Neither of you could see who caused it or even why, but suddenly a lone ship was heading into the atmosphere on the one planet you always said you’d rather die than visit.

Hoth—a frozen pit that once housed the Rebellion of all places.

So, there you were. Shivering to gain some warmth as you scanned the area for Din’s signal. If the ship was right, he still remained alive. You only wished you could say the same for yourself by the time he came back.

The cold had begun to seep into your layers, hitting your chest directly and causing you to cough harshly. If he didn’t return within the hour he would find you dead due to hypothermia. Except that’s not what scared you. It was the fact that he would be the one to find you—a man who showed absolutely no interest in you whatsoever.

You weren’t sure when the crush started or even why, but you do know the realization hit you harder than a speeder-bike going at full speed one day while you were sitting beside him in the cockpit. He laughed at something you said, the chuckle low and slightly clipped due to his modulator and that’s what did it. What had you sitting there in shock—eyes wide—as it suddenly dawned on you that…you liked him. A lot more than you would have ever thought before.

“Maker fucking above,” you muttered, your teeth chattering with the words. “Hurry up, bucket head.”

Vaguely you recalled some survival tips from your time as a teenager on Bracca working as a scrapper. Never touch live wires, always look out for yourself, and when stuck in freezing temperatures—layers become your best friend. So, you stumbled out of the cockpit chair and towards the ladder that would lead you to the rest of his ship. Slow small steps were all you could manage as your body went into overdrive to try and keep you warm. Except the ship acted as an icebox rather than a heater.

You could lock yourself in his small cot, burrowing under the blankets he’d bought because of you complaining there wasn’t enough on the ship. But you’d first have to get there. It was a struggle to even climb down the ladder—your breath coming in gasps as your lungs fought against the freezing air. How long had you been sitting up there? You held no answer to the question, because the results were clear to you now; you were up there long enough to lead you right to death’s doorstep.

Dragging yourself along the side of the ship wall, you flinched as the cold metal touched your cheek. You should have gone against his orders and simply turned the ship back on. It would keep you from this—currently fighting against hypothermia as Din took his sweet time coming back.

The sound of the airlock on the door releasing when it opened brought a small flicker of hope to life, burning bright in your chest. But it faded just as quickly as it came. You caught sight of him dragging a half dead bounty up the ramp—his helmet turned towards you—before you collapsed to the ground. Your body shivering in a final attempt to generate enough body heat in order to keep you alive.

His voice calling your name echoed in the back of your mind as you drifted off—the concept of sleep far more enticing than it should be.

Steady breaths against your bare back was what you woke up—your mind drifting slowly back to reality. Or at least what you thought to be reality. The last thing you could recall was seeing Din’s helmet as your body did what it could to survive. How you ended up in the darkness of his cot, pressed against someone you assumed to be him…naked, was a mystery to you. Perhaps you were still dreaming. This must be how your mind envisioned some form of peace to ease your soul into an afterlife.

“You’re awake.” His voice caught you off guard—the breath in your throat catching.

“How…”

The shift of his body created a low burn of heat to appear at the bottom of your stomach as his arm tightened around your waist—drawing you closer. “You almost stopped breathing when I got back. Your body went into shock from the cold.”

“I was dying,” you said softly, the realization far less jarring than waking beside him in the nude.

He hummed, the low pitch a vibration you felt along your back. “I had to get you warm.”

“So you took off my clothes?” you asked, the smile prominent in your tone.

“Generating enough body heat only works when—”

“Both of us are naked.”

His fingers gripped onto the soft skin of your belly. “Yes,” he replied—voice slightly strained.

Somehow it never registered that he was actually sans armor and clothing until you felt his hand glide further up. The soft skin of his palm turned the spark into a fully formed flame that traveled its way through your body. He was laying beside you…naked. If you concentrated hard enough, you could feel the rise and fall of his stomach against your lower back—his skin soft there too.

Any other time your brain would have short circuited, but the sluggishness from sleep had yet to wear off. It made you rather docile—something you felt oddly grateful for. You were entirely aware, fully conscious of your words and decisions, but the tranquility in your body seemingly spurred you forward. No other time would you be this centered—this sure of yourself—and maybe that’s where you made the mistake, because this was dangerous. Revealing the feelings you’d harbored for months was like poison to your heart…positively lethal.

“Din,” you murmured, the soft heat coming from his body now spreading into yours.

If you knew you’d end up like this after one visit to Hoth, you would have come here a lot sooner.

“Yes?” Even his breath was warm as it brushed across the bare skin of your shoulder. Maker you were close in his bed that was barely big enough for him, let alone you beside him.

“I—” The words caught in the base of your throat, lodging themselves there like a stone you couldn’t swallow. You wanted to say it. Get everything out into the open and be done with it, but your mind seemed to be slowly coming to its senses.

“What is it?”

Closing your eyes, you let out a shuddered breath in the hopes that it would push down the erratic nerves which jumped under your skin. If you chickened out now, you’d never say the words. They’d be your secret—forever trapped in the cage of your heart until it was far too late to confess them. What’s funny is that they seemed like such easy things to say. How hard was it really to say I love you? How much effort did it take? Only you now realized it took a lot more than you expected.

It was far easier to die than to admit your feelings.

“I have to tell you something and I just—” Inhaling, you curled your hand around the blanket beneath you. “I don’t want you to look at me differently if things don’t turn out the way I hope.”

His thumb rubbed a soothing circle against your hip. “I won’t.”

You scoffed. “You probably will.”

The subtle shift of his body against yours caused flutters to go through your heart—rendering you speechless for a moment. He was so close it was maddening. If you had the courage you’d turn around, press yourself to him, and whisper the words against his lips. But you were practically stone, unable to even turn your head slightly to feel the press of his lips against your neck.

“For a while now I’ve felt…well…my feelings towards you have changed.” You blurted them out, hoping it was like ripping off a bandaid. Except the silence of his response hurt more than you expected.

Until—

“I know,” he said, his hand pressing a bit harder on your hip.

Nothing could have prepared you for the shockwave that went through your body. “You know?” you exclaimed.

“I’ve known since our trip to Coruscant.”

You paused, trying to form something to say, but all you could come up with was: “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Why had he let you think he held no feelings towards you? That you were alone in this. You felt him stiffen behind you, his hand pulling away slightly and your heart sank in your chest. Perhaps you had asked the wrong question. Or even touched on a part of this he didn’t want you to see. But you had to know the truth. You knew why you waited—why you couldn’t get the words out for the life of you—but why had he?

That is until he wrapped his arm around your waist tightly, jolting you back towards his body. A soft yelp left you as you tried to refocus yourself in the pitch black space. Except then you felt it. Pressing hard and insistent against your lower back—a part of Din you had only ever imagined, but never seen.

He grunted, his hand splaying across your stomach as you shifted against him. “Don’t you know what you’re doing to me?”

You gasped. “Din—”

“What you’ve been doing?

His hips canted downwards, grinding against you and sending heat sparking up your spine. Enough to combat the cold that still remained in you, but you wanted more. You craved it. Moaning softly, you pushed back against him, pressing your thighs together to hopefully appease the growing ache that formed. Except he was one step ahead of you. Shoving his bare thigh between your legs, he pressed it upwards, grinning at the way your head fell back against his chest—a guttural moan leaving your lips.

“Every day is fucking torture,” he rasped, his hand sliding even lower until his fingers were hovering right above where you needed him most. “Because I can’t touch you.” His lips pressed against the curve of your jaw. “Because I can’t kiss you…”

“Maker,” you gasped, reaching down to wrap your hand around his wrist. “I-I want you to touch me. Want you to kiss me.”

His fingers dipped down even lower, finally parting your folds. A ragged groan was pressed to your jaw, his teeth scraping down against the skin when he found you wet and dripping for him. You could feel his heartbeat against your back. How it was erratic and almost as quick as yours. He was just as nervous as you were—if not more so, because of his creed.

He wanted you to be his, to love him as he was with his creed, but he was scared that this wasn’t permanent. You wanted to show him the inner workings of your mind, the makeup of your heart—how he was seared into it. He was ingrained so deep into your soul that you couldn’t even fathom the thought of being parted from him.

“Are you always this wet for me?” he asked, disbelief clear in his tone.

Nodding, you felt another moan begin to form, only for it to die as he pulled his fingers away. “No—”

“Shh,” he breathed, cupping your jaw as he moved even closer. “I’ll take care of you.”

Heat flooded your stomach, a whine forming in your throat as he pulled you back, the head of his cock now nudging against your entrance. You dug your nails into his forearm, your lips parting to form around his name. A ragged moan echoing in his small quarters, and he began to push forward. Sliding into you slowly as you fought to keep yourself quiet.

“So fucking tight,” he hissed, wrapping his arm around your torso and thrusting into you completely, his hips pressing against your ass. “Won’t last—”

You keened when his hand fell to your clit, circling it with enough pressure to send jolts up your spine. For a moment he simply held himself there. Encompassed in your heat as he worked you over, building your release steadily until you were pressing into him. Your hips rolling against his fingers—fucking yourself on his cock. Soft moans were pressed to your skin, the stubble on his jaw scratching along your shoulder, and that only heightened everything.

For the first time…he was entirely yours. Bare and open as he indulged in something both of you had held back from doing for so long.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you turned your head and caught the corner of his lips in a kiss. Something so tender yet so powerful. It nearly sent you over the edge and you felt Din’s surprise at the action. How his body jolted, his hips nudging forward and fingers stuttering in their motions. Even though he had proudly claimed he wanted to kiss you, to finally feel your lips against his. He had never expected it to come true.

“Cyar'ika,” he breathed.

“I want…” You gasped, hips rolling against his fingers in quick movements as that blinding feeling continued to overtake you. “Kiss me Din. Please, please—”

His mouth found yours in the darkness of his cabin, and you felt your heart scream out. Felt your entire body give into him, his name, his signet forever carved into your heart. He was your future and he knew it. Which is why he kissed you with a fervor that you believed only existed in your dreams—a passion that you felt right down to your toes. His tongue slid along yours, tasting the shitty caf you had earlier—the desperation on your tastebuds.

“Ah…” You tried to form the words on your tongue. The feelings that were trapped in your heart, but they refused to be let loose.

“I know you want to cum,” he breathed, fingers speeding up as your walls began to flutter around his cock. His other hand shifted, wrapping gently around your throat to keep your face close to his. Pressing down lightly as you gasped. “Let me feel it.”

A keening broken moan of his name ripped from you, hands scrabbling to grasp for something, settling for his arm that kept you pressed against him. White flashed behind your closed eyes, his lips swallowing every sound you made as you writhed against him. Gushing around his cock.

You didn’t hear the hoarse shout that he pressed into your mouth, his hips thrusting into you quickly as he followed you off the edge. Filling you with a warmth that you swore you felt in your chest. Biting down on his bottom lip you sucked into your mouth, moaning when he canted his hips forward, prolonging the sparks that ran up your spine. He was a panting mess and you tried to picture what he looked like.

Was his hair a mess? Were his cheeks stained red? Were his lips swollen?

The urge to simply open your eyes nearly overtook you, but you understood what came with that action. What would have to happen afterwards. Din had explained enough for you to grasp the basic details of what being a Mandalorian meant. So you kept them closed and opted to simply feel. You memorized how his lips against yours felt, what being full of him felt like.

You kept what you could nestled against your heart, remaining here for as long as possible. Din’s cock softened in you, twitching every now and then when your walls fluttered. But you solely had him to blame. Because he was running his hand along your body, grazing your nipples lightly before pulling away—the familiar feelings in your stomach stirring once more. If he wasn’t careful neither of you would be leaving this bed for quite some time.

Which didn’t bode well for you seeing as how you hated the planet you currently resided on.

“Din,” you breathed, pulling away to catch your breath before he dived down again—ready for round two of the hottest makeout session you’d partaken in.

“You want to leave,” he panted. There was something scary about how he could see your thoughts so clearly. You’d have to ask him about it later.

“No…” Your head fell back against his shoulder. “I want to stay here, but Hoth.”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “We can stay here for as long as you want.”

Half expecting him to pull out and place his helmet back in its rightful place, you were a bit surprised when he remained put. Curling himself around you closer until his body perfectly molded yours. The cold still remained in the ship—the heaters unable to counteract the snowy planet—yet you found that you were perfectly content to remain right where you were. Wrapped in his arms—the certainty of your future now nestled in his heart. Mimicking yours in every way.

“Din,” you breathed in the darkness, feeling him trace something along your waist.

“Yes?”

“I just wanted to say…” You took in a breath, trying to calm the racing of your heart. “I feel like you should hear me say it.”

He pressed a kiss to your temple, his fingers pressing down. “I know cyar'ika. I feel the same way.”

“You do?” you asked softly.

“I do.”

You settled into the bed, allowing your muscles to relax and your body to once more give into the temptation of sleep. With Din right there, you felt as if you were able to finally relax. To give in and allow yourself to float.

“You know…” You yawned, feeling his chin settle against your shoulder. “Maybe Hoth isn’t so bad.”

He smiled, his lips brushing along your skin as you drifted off, mind succumbing to the sweet snare of unconsciousness. “No,” he breathed, continuing to trace the shape of his signet on your skin, because whether you wore it or not…you were a part of his clan. His life. “It’s not.”

#din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin smut #din djarin #the mandalorian #the mandalorian smut #my writing

861 notes · View notes

salfishersface · 5 months

Note

Hhhh I’ve reread Baby Fever more times than I can count, can you please do like a part 2 or something similar?

Baby Fever Part 2 || Sal Fisher

Synopsis - Sal has baby fever.

Warnings - NSFW.

Notes - All characters are aged 18+!

Notes - Read part 1 here.

Word Count - 1.4k.

{Caffeinate Me}

Part One || Part Three

You watched as your boyfriend gave the overactive toddler a ride on his shoulders for the third time today. Soda was giggling and shrieking as she pulled on Sal’s shoulder-length blue hair. “Uncle Sawwy! I’m so high!” She shrieked giddily, kicking her legs in the air against Sal’s shoulders.

“Yes you are baby,” he cooed, spinning around and causing another gleeful sound to leave Soda’s lips.

“It’s time for dinner!” You called from the kitchen as you plated up the food you had been preparing. Chug and Maple would be back any minute now, but you knew they had had a busy day shopping and whatnot so you thought you’d feed Soda for them.

“Uncle Sawwy, take me to the din din table!” Soda yelled, pointing in the direction of the kitchen.

“You got it angel,” Sal said, manoeuvring his way through the sea of toys scattered amongst the floor and to the kitchen. He placed Soda at the table who immediately licked her lips upon seeing food. She certainly had her fathers appetite. Sal walked over to you after securing Soda at the table and wrapped his arm around your waist. “You look good being all motherly.”

“You think?” You asked softly.

“I know,” Sal whispered, pressing another kiss to your temple. You both watched from the side as Soda wolfed down her food, hardly even chewing the contents before swallowing. Sal chuckled before narrowing his eyes. “Soda, you need to be careful when you eat!” Sal said, slight panic in his voice.

“Why uncle Sawwy?” Soda asked, looking towards Sal.

“If you don’t chew your food, you could choke!” Sal exclaimed, trying to be as lighthearted as he possibly could.

“Oh otay,” she said before taking another mouthful of her food, this time chewing properly.

You looked at Sal and grinned. “What?” He asked, raising an eyebrow under his prosthetic.

“You look good being all fatherly,” you said, mimicking his words.

“I know,” he grinned, pressing his prosthetic to the side of your face as if he was trying to kiss your temple. You looked up at him and smiled softly. You both continued to watch Soda eat and not long after she had finished, Chug and Maple came home.

“We’re home!” Maple chimed as she smiled softly at the three of you. You were sitting on the sofa now, curled up watching Soda’s favourite movie.

“Mummy! Daddy!” Soda said, quickly retreating from her spot on the sofa and toddling over to her mother and father. “Uncle Sawwy gave me a wide on his shoulders!”

“Did he?” Maple asked, laughing slightly.

Soda nodded in response before sticking up three fingers and exclaiming, “three times!”

“Want one more before we head off, Soda?” Sal asked, standing up and holding his arms out to the toddler. Soda nodded and walked, unsteadily, over to Sal who picked her up with ease and placed her on his shoulders. He began to walk quickly around the room, delighting in hearing Soda’s giggles.

You stood up and walked over to Chug and Maple with a smile on your face. “How was shopping?” You asked.

Chug shrugged. “It was alright,” he replied.

“You know, he’d make an excellent father one day,” Maple said, motioning towards Sal.

You nodded in agreement, the smile on your face never faltering. “He will.”

You and Sal had said your goodbyes quickly, hugging the little girl that had captured your hearts before heading back home. You knew where this was going. Sal’s hand never left yours as you made the short walk back to the apartment, his grip becoming increasingly harder the closer you got. When you arrived, you kicked your shoes off and said hello to Henry and Lisa before Sal mindlessly dragged you to your shared bedroom. “God, what are you doing to me?” Sal asked as he took off his prosthetic and placed it carefully on the bedside table.

“What do you mean?” You asked, your head automatically tilting to the side.

“Just wanna fuck you and stuff you full of my cum, all day everyday until your swollen with my babies,” Sal growled as he pressed his lips fiercely to yours. You let out a gasp of surprise as his lips collided with yours. Your soft lips moulded against his scarred ones as if you were made for him. Sal was quick in undressing you, throwing your clothes every which way around the room for you to find later before pushing you onto the bed. You could already see how rock hard his cock was against his skinny jeans, but Sal was quick to remove his jeans, finally freeing his cock from its restraints. His cock sprung up to attention, your mouth watering at the sight of it throbbing for you. His balls were heavy, full of cum that he wanted to pour into your womb. Sal got onto his knees at the edge of the bed and pulled you by your legs. You let out a shriek of surprise as his face immediately delved between your legs, tongue lapping at your folds and clit like a man starved, not even giving you time to comprehend what was happening.

“Sal,” you whimpered softly, hands falling to tangle into his blue hair.

“Yeah baby?” He asked, pulling away from your pussy momentarily to look into your eyes.

“Don’t stop,” you beg quietly, pushing his face further into your already dripping cunt.

He mumbled something against your folds but you couldn’t understand what he said. He sucked deliciously at your clit. Obscene noises of his slurping filled the room and you felt your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. “Shit, you taste so good.”

“Don’t say that,” you whimpered, covering your face with your hands.

Sal pulled away from you, kissing up your thighs to your stomach, to your neck and then finally to your lips. “Taste yourself on my tongue,” he groaned, shoving his tongue into your mouth immediately. You let out a moan at the intrusion, eyes rolling back into your head momentarily. When Sal finally pulled away from your lips, he was breathless. Gazing into your eyes, he slicked his cock up your slit to lubricate himself before pushing into you slowly, a quiet moan falling from his lips. You grasped the sheets below you as Sal placed your legs over his shoulder, forcing his cock to kiss your cervix. “You gonna make me a daddy tonight, huh?” He asked, kissing your cheeks.

“Yes,” you managed to choke out, tears springing to the corner of your eyes at both the pain and pleasure you were feeling.

“Good girl,” Sal groaned, kissing away your tears. “Fuck, you feel so fucking tight around me.”

“Oh God Sal,” you cry, trying to wriggle away from him slightly.

“Hey, hey,” he growled in your ear. “Where do you think you’re going?” He asked, pulling you back against him. “You gotta make me a daddy tonight baby. Fuck, I need it.”

“I will! I will!” You screech, not caring as to whether Henry or Lisa could hear you anymore.

“Shhh baby girl,” Sal cooed softly. His fingertips dug into your hips and you felt like you were going to break at any minute.

“Gonna cum Sal,” you whimpered softly.

“Yeah? You gonna cum precious?” He mocked, his hips still rutting into you at a pace out of this world. You nodded enthusiastically, a hand flying down to your clit to rub quick circles against the sensitive nub. Within seconds you were spraying your juices all over Sal and his torso, not caring about the mess you were making. “Ohh you’re such a good girl for me,” Sal groaned.

“So good,” you whimpered softly. Your voice was barely audible but Sal had managed to hear you.

“Gonna fill you up now baby,” Sal whispered into your ear as his hips stuttered against yours. “Make. Me. A. Daddy,” he growled with each thrust of his hips. You nodded, completely fucked out. You felt his thick ropes shoot deep into you, his cock twitching with his release. You let out a silent moan as Sal shivered against you, but he didn’t pull out. He kept you plugged up as he kissed your tear stained cheeks. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” You whisper softly, leaning against his touch. “You really have baby fever, don’t you Sal?”

“You have no idea,” he chuckled. The two of you cuddled like that for the rest of the night, with him plugging you up to make sure his cum didn’t escape from your cunt as he whispered sweet nothings into your ear. This one felt like it would be the one.

I'm so glad you enjoyed part one anon! I hope this part satiates your hunger for more baby fever!sal<3

#sal fisher #sal fisher imagine #sal fisher imagines #sal fisher x reader #sal fisher x you #sally face #sally face fandom #sally face imagine #sally face imagines #sally face one shot #sal fisher oneshot #sal fisher oneshots #sal fisher one shot #sal fisher one shots #sally face one shots #sally face x reader #sally face oneshots #sally face oneshot

730 notes · View notes

fettuccin-e · 8 months

Text

A Kind of Demon

Kinktober Day 3: Monster AU

Tags: Din Djarin x Reader, Incubus!Din Djarin, afab!fem!reader, unprotected piv, Din has a demon dick lol, force sex? yeah pretty much, fingering, overstimulation, making up my own demon lore as I go (w/c: 1.7K)

A/N: SO I have never, ever written something like this so this was way way out of my comfort zone, but I wanted to try it out! I really like incubus!Din, so I might come back to him again, who knows. Din does have like "force powers" in this, but since it's not the Star Wars universe, it's just like demon magic lol. (I am using prompts from this list by flightlessangelwings!)

You should be terrified of the power he has over you.

You’d hadn’t meant to summon someone like him, something other. He looks vaguely human, or is just human-shaped, but he’s covered in a dark, metallic armor that makes him seem more mythical than man. And the power he exudes cannot be explained as anything other than supernatural.

He calls himself a Mandalorian, a word that seems made up, not of this world. It’s a type of demon, he tells you, his sentences controlled and short, the type that you’d summoned. A kind of incubus.

“I didn’t summon a fucking demon!” you yell, throwing object after object at him, anything you can find. They bounce off of his dark armor, and he stands stock still, unfeeling and utterly monstrous. He says your name in a way that has your knees buckling on the spot, from fear, of course.

“I have been summoned to you, whether intentional, or unintentional. Your unconscious needs have brought me to you, and I cannot leave until my duty has been fulfilled.” His voice is clear and deep through the metal helmet shielding his face, and try as you might to peer into the dark visor, all you can see is nothingness.

“What does an incubus even do?” you shout, throwing your hands into the air. He chuckles in a truly demonic way, terrifying and somehow endlessly charming.

“Are you lonely, little one?” he said, stepping forward and looming over you like a fucking predator. You don’t answer, staring straight ahead into his armored chest, lips pursed. Why the fuck would he have to know that? Your, frankly terrible, sex life is none of his business.

His gloved hand reaches forward to nudge your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze, even though you can’t see his eyes.

“All of these needs, trapped in your pretty little head, I can feel them. I can see them. Fantasizing in the dark night after night with your fingers in your pussy, desperate for someone to take care of you. I can see everything you want, and I can do it for you. I can take care of you, little one.” You swallow, harsh and painful, like sandpaper down your throat.

Your pussy soaks through your panties as he murmurs darkly into your ear. “You only need to say yes, girl, and I will make you feel so, so good.”

Your head swims, your knees weak and your body aching as you whisper a yes.

God, you should be terrified. Terrified of the way he takes control so easily. How, with only a touch, he makes your clothes vanish like nothing, leaving you bare to his invisible eyes. You should be scared for your life at the way you can feel his power all around you, touching every inch of your shaking body, pressing you backward to lay on your bed. Instead, your pussy leaks between your quaking thighs. A force, his force, you realize, invisible and yet so solid it might as well be his hands, strokes across your body, against your throbbing clit. A choked moan rips its way out of your throat.

“That’s right girl, let me take care of you,” he murmurs, looming over you as he steps forward to kneel on the bed. “I can take any form you want, just tell me. Is there someone you desire?”

Oh. You’d hadn’t realized it was an option, for him to take the shape of someone else. He could be anything, you realized, a crush, a celebrity, even yourself. The realization makes you stock still, wracking your brain for someone, anyone. But looking up at him, with his dark visor and broad chest, God, you don’t want him to be anyone else. Just the sheer sight of him has you desperate enough.

“No,” you breathe, a little too eagerly. “No, this- this is fine.”

He pauses. All of him, his chest, his mouth, the force he has enveloping you. You both stare at each other, stock still and silent. And then, he moves.

He’s got you turned over on your sheets in seconds, your face pressed into the mattress as he hikes your hips up. You clutch desperately at the sheets as he sinks two thick fingers into you, gloriously human but somehow not human at all. There’s no way he could be human when he finds that spot so deep inside, the spot that you can barely reach half the time, immediately.

“Holy- holy fucking shit, oh fuck,” you choke on your moans as he grinds the pads of his fingers into you, sending lightning ricocheting up your spine. Your hips twitch back into his hand without your permission, desperate for the kind of touch you haven’t experienced in so long.

“That’s it, girl, take what you need from me,” he growls, fucking his fingers into you at a pace that is truly obscene. His force surrounds you, a warmth that cannot be explained in earthly terms. It ghosts across your nipples, surrounding them and pulling on them in a way that brings tears to your eyes. It moves down and presses hard on your clit, flicking across it in a way that feels like a fucking tongue. You can’t hold back the way you scream.

He sinks another finger into you, stretching you out more than you have been in months, years. Maybe I have needed this, you think. Maybe I did summon him.

He leans over you, close enough that he is able to murmur directly into your ear, “Think you can take my cock, little one?”

The whine you let out is downright embarrassing. “Please.”

You glance behind yourself, to where the Mandalorian has his thick fingers buried deep in your cunt, to where he’s pulling out his cock with the other hand. That, for the first time, is distinctly inhuman. His cock is huge, so big that you have a brief thought about it splitting you in two, right down the middle. Rigid bumps run down his length, and the tip is thick, leaking, and oh shit, you want him in your mouth, you want him in your pussy, you want him fucking everywhere.

“Fuck me,” you whine, and the demon chuckles.

“Do you really think you can take me, girl?” He growls.

“I wanna try, oh please, please, I need it, ah-” he cuts off your whining by ripping his fingers out of you, leaving you empty and gaping. It doesn’t last very long before he notches the head of his cock against your entrance and pushes.

The stretch seems fucking endless. You can only clutch the pillows and sob as he breaks you apart on his thick cock, reaching so deep you swear you can feel him in your fucking lungs. It should hurt, God it should hurt, but his force only makes you relax as he pulls you back onto him. You feel dizzy with it, the way that force keeps licking maddeningly at your clit, pulling at your nipples while the biggest cock you’ve ever had settles deep inside.

You cum. Just from the way he sinks into you, fills you like you’ve always been empty, and you’ve only been missing him all your life. You writhe against the sheets, clutching at your pillow as you convulse around his cock. It’s debilitating, destructive, and all you can think of is how much you need more.

“It’s- oh fuck, it’s- I can’t,” you sob over your words, tears leaking down your cheeks, but you can’t help but press back into his body, trying to get him as deep as possible.

The demon snarls, using a thick hand to reach forward and grab your wrists together, pinning them to the small of your back. He pulls his hips back, slowly, so slow that you can feel every bump drag endlessly over your walls, before he drives back into you so hard the breath is knocked out of your lungs, the tip grinding deep into that spot he’s able to find so easily.

Then, the Mandalorian fucks you. No, fucking is too gentle. There is no earthly term to describe how he destroys you in a way that is so pure, so primal. He holds onto your wrists and drags you back onto his cock with every thrust, keeping you at his mercy while you can only moan and cry as he rips you apart into a million little pieces. You feel like a bitch in heat, getting fucked like that is all you’re meant to do. The demon uses you like a fucking toy, his force sucking at your abused little clit endlessly.

You can hear little grunts escaping his mouth with every thrust, tiny uh, uh, uhs that have your head spinning. You’re pretty sure you’re drooling, but you can’t bring yourself to care, not when this man, this demon, is fucking you within an inch of your life, ruining you for anyone, anything else.

Your pussy makes obscene noises around him, echoing throughout the room as your headboard smacks hard against the wall. You can barely even make a noise anymore, overwhelmed sobs forcing their way out of your throat every time he reaches deep, deep into your body.

“I can feel you clenching for me. Are you going to cum for me again?” He growls. “Go on then, little girl, make a mess of yourself.”

Your mouth opens in a silent scream as you squeeze tight around his cock, your body trembling in his hold. He fucks you through it, prolonging it, and it’s too much, it’s too fucking much. Your vision blurs, your head light and fuzzy, and you can only gasp wetly as the world blinks into darkness.

As your eyes blink open again, you’re warm. Your sheets feel clean, smelling of lavender and chamomile, and your room is blissfully, astonishingly quiet. You sit up in bed, a twinge going through your arms, and you nearly scream as you look across the room to see the Mandalorian standing still in your doorway, unmoving.

“Are you alright, girl?” he says, like he hadn’t just ripped you apart in every way that matters.

“Uh,” you cross your arms over yourself, feeling strangely vulnerable. “Yeah, I’m alright.”

He nods, once. “Good. My duties have been fulfilled.” He doesn’t let you get a word in.

You blink, and the Mandalorian is gone.

#i don't think i'm a monsterfucker just yet #but who knows #i could become one #kinktober 2023 #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x female reader #the mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian smut #din djarin smut #star wars smut #star wars x reader

497 notes · View notes

dominantslasherking · 1 month

Text

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen With Dominant Male S/o

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

181 notes · View notes

trensu · 8 months

Text

Some more of stasis in darkness. you have no idea how many times i've written this scene. i discarded three or four different versions of it before i came up with this one. i feel like this version worked best for the characters. or at least i hope they feel in character.

It was the ninth night.

Steve took his usual spot before the shrine. He greeted his god as he had before but decided tonight was going to be a quiet night. He didn’t have much to say so he’d simply let his faith burn bright in his silent vigil.

Hours passed, and again the strange man didn’t show up as he had been the nights prior. This time, Steve didn’t bother putting it off. He decided to do a perimeter check. As he stood, however, a cacophony of squeaks and beating wings filled the air.

A massive colony of bats burst into the clearing. They moved shockingly fast as they neared Steve and the shrine. Steve ducked his head under his arms but let the bats come. He ignored the little Robin in his head yelling about rabies. He couldn’t risk hurting one of his god’s favored creatures.

There were so many of them, more than Steve had ever seen in his life. They flew round and round dropping altitude until they coalesced at the foot of the shrine. The din stopped as abruptly as it had started. When Steve could no longer hear a single squeak or feel wings zipping overhead, he lowered his arms. Cautiously, he lifted his head, eyes drawn immediately to the shrine to check for any damage.

Not a single bat remained. Instead, the strange man sat, cross legged, at the statue’s feet. He wore a dark cloak comprised of deep navies, bruising purples, and an inky black. Each color slowly, gracefully shifted and melted one into another, again and again before Steve’s eyes. Flecks of light littered it in familiar formations. The clasp that secured it around the man was a bright silvery white. It was shaped exactly the same as the waning moon above.

“Ta-da!” the man said, fluttering his hands in a showman’s gesture.

Steve took in the man's appearance. The ratty travel clothes, the cloak of constellations and its clasp…Steve leapt back in shock. Everything suddenly clicked into place very quickly to paint a very unflattering picture of himself. He whirled around. He couldn't face the shrine.

"Shit," Steve's voice was loud with a stunned sort of panic as he remembered the events of the past week. He paced anxiously. "Shit, shit. It was y–the whole time, you were–FUCK. How did I miss–and even if you weren't you, you were still a traveler in the night and I treated you like–I'm a fucking idiot. I'm the stupidest man alive, how–"

"Probably from getting dropped on the head so much, huh?" the man asked with that same annoyingly self-satisfied voice he'd been using every night. The annoying stranger with his annoying questions and his stupid smug tone.

Mindlessly, Steve turned on his heel to glare at the man. He jabbed an accusatory finger in his direction, frustration flaring.

"Oh, you can fuck right off, man," Steve replied reflexively. "I am having a crisis!"

A split second later, he felt his stomach drop to his feet. This wasn't just a stranger talking. He backpedaled hard.

"Oh, ohhhh no, I didn't mean that, Lord, I-I wasn't thinking."

The man exploded into raucous laughter. It shook his whole body until he doubled over from the strength of it. He continued to laugh when he toppled off the side of his perch and landed with a thunk on the ground. The man sat up, wheezing and wiping at his face, mirth clearly keeping him in a choke-hold.

"Oh, far be it for me to interrupt your crisis," the Lord of Night forced out amidst the laughter. He flapped a hand at him. "Please, continue."

The god attempted to regain composure but all that did was turn his full bellied guffaws into snorting giggles. Steve waited, his anxiety fading in the face of the god’s genuine good humor. It took another couple of minutes before the god calmed enough to pop back to his feet and climb back onto the plinth. The man made himself comfortable at the foot of his own statue as he had before.

"So how goes the crisis?" he asked mischievously.

"On hold," Steve said evenly, fighting back the start of a smile. The man said nothing but still radiated amusement. Steve crossed his arms over his chest. "Are you really the Lord of Night?"

"The one and only!"

“And you’ve been here the whole time?”

“Yep!”

“So why didn’t you say anything? I mean, I talked to you every night! I don’t get it.” Steve paused as a thought occurred to him. “Was this a test?”

“Uh…yes? Yes.”

Steve narrowed his eyes. The god shifted in his seated position. It reminded Steve of the time Dustin shattered a jar of his most expensive hair product and tried to hide it. Dustin had squirmed guiltily under Steve’s expectant gaze until he confessed to his dastardly crime. Apparently, the method worked on gods as well.

“Okay, it started more as an attempt to get you to leave me alone,” the Lord of Night admitted.

“Oh.” It came out blankly, which Steve was grateful for, because he felt like he’d been kicked in the chest by a mule. “You don’t want me.”

Steve wasn't sure why he was surprised. This was a classic Steve problem. He tamped down the old familiar sting of rejection. Steve knew going in that this had been a possibility. It was a god’s right to reject an offering.

“I never wanted any holy warriors,” the Lord of Night corrected. “Hence the attempt to make you leave.”

Steve supposed that lessened the blow a little. It was an impersonal rejection. That was better, right?

"If you didn't want me as your holy warrior you could've just said," Steve said ruefully.

“You seemed pretty determined to come back, though.”

“Only because I thought you’d want to, like, use me for something. If you’d asked me to, I would’ve stopped bothering you. I could’ve gotten someone else who could worship you better,” Steve said, trying to keep his voice light and unaffected.

"Yeah, I really don’t think you could have,” the Lord of Night said in a strained tone.

“No, I mean it,” Steve insisted. “I told you, Robin and Dustin wanted to come along. They would make sure you’re not alone again. You would like them. They pick up on stuff faster than me. They’d be good worshipers.”

“That’s not what I meant. Your worship was, uh, it was…no, nevermind, forget that. The thing is, the more you came back the more I…”

The Lord of Night trailed off. He tugged his dark starry cloak around him tighter. When he spoke again, he seemed to have switched tracks entirely.

"Look, I don't know exactly how the holy warrior thing works, but you guys do quests for your gods, right?"

"Well, yeah, that's the whole point. We're your boots on the ground. We do acts in your service to spread your faith. Like priests but less boring."

The god snorted which made Steve grin.

"Priests are so boring," the Lord of Night agreed.

Things went quiet again. The cloak of constellations made it hard to see his god, but Steve got the impression that the Lord of Night was fidgeting. Steve remembered the conversation from a few nights before, about nervousness and not knowing what to do. Steve fell back on his social graces, his good old Harrington charm, and carefully picked something that would encourage the god to speak.

"I can't believe I didn’t see it,” Steve said, with a self-deprecating shake of his head. “Like, I know I'm not the smartest guy around but I didn't think I was that slow."

"Don't worry about it,” the god replied instantly, breaking out of his internal reverie. “That's not on you. I didn't want you to notice, so you didn't."

"Oh."

"Yep. And, it's not like I have a face to remember, so, y'know. You're good."

"I guess that does make me feel bet–wait. What do you mean you don’t have a face?” Steve squinted at the Lord of Night.

“Well, I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I lost my name,” the Lord of Night said with a hint of irony. “No name, no face.”

“But I saw it,” Steve insisted.

“Did you?” the Lord of Night asked, amused. He slid off the plinth and walked up to Steve until he was only three feet away. The god lowered his hood without any flourish. “What do I look like?”

Steve squinted at him studiously. The god was pale as moonlight and had hair as dark as the night itself; as for the rest of him…it was the strangest thing. Steve knew there was a pair of eyes under a brow. There was a nose above a mouth. He knew the right features were in the right places. However, he couldn’t tell if the eyes were dark or pale. He couldn’t say whether the nose was large or small. The mouth could be thin or it could be full.

“I don’t know,” Steve relented. The Lord of Night nodded.

“Yeah, me neither.”

“Is…is that the quest? To find your name?” Steve asked, dread pooling in his belly. That quest would involve a lot of reading and…he didn’t even know. Language things? General research, for sure. None of which Steve was particularly good at.

“That’s a bit presumptuous of you,” the Lord of Night smirked. He didn't give Steve a chance to apologize. “But yeah, there’s something important that needs to be done. I’m not strong enough to do it myself and I’m running out of time to do it.”

“I can do it,” Steve responded. “I’ll do it for you, my Lord.”

“You don’t even know what the quest is,” the god said wistfully.

“But I know you wouldn’t ask me to do anything cruel or unfair.”

“You’re unbelievable,” the Lord of Night muttered under his breath. Steve didn’t think he was supposed to hear that so he kept quiet. In a louder voice, the god resumed. “Okay, are you sure you wanna do this? Be a holy warrior? Because you could be literally anything else. You told me you liked cooking during one of your prayer sessions. You could open up a restaurant! Restaurant owners don’t usually die in the line of duty or whatever.”

Steve resisted the urge to roll his eyes. This is what Steve trained for, what he was good at, and he wanted to put those skills to use.

“You said you needed help to do something important. I want to be the one that helps you. I want to be your warrior. I can do it, I know I can. I won’t let you down.” Steve bit his lip uncertainly as a thought struck him. "If you don't think I'm worthy–"

“It’s not about worthiness!" The god cut in. "Do you know what it would mean to be my holy warrior? The weight of the night sky, with all the stars and the moon, will be on your shoulders for as long as you walk the land. I don’t know much about holy warriors but I remember this: there’s no take-backs. You can’t just quit and go off to become something else later.”

“Yes, I know. We covered this in lectures at school. It wasn’t all swordplay," Steve said impatiently. "I did think about it once I finished training and I decided if I could find a god to pledge myself to, I didn't want to be anything else. Then I found you."

“...Okay. If you're sure, then okay,” the Lord of Night said decisively. “So what do I have to do? How do I make you mine?”

“Um, I think it’s different from god to god?” Steve stuttered, heart thumping at the god’s words. “But I guess we can do our own thing? I’m pretty sure it’s the intent that matters most.”

"I can work with that." The Lord of Night gestured downward. "Kneel, kneel. I have an idea of what to say.

"Should I close my eyes or something?" Steve asked once he’d gotten to his knees.

"Nah, this is good," Lord Night said.

The god squared his shoulders and straightened his spine. Then, something miraculous happened. The Lord of Night spoke his name aloud.

“Steve Harrington.”

It was the first time his god ever said his name; it was stunning in a way Steve couldn’t begin to comprehend. A bolt of lightning down his spine. A roaring forge in his chest. A whirlwind in his lungs. It felt like all of that simultaneously, yet nothing like that at all. How could pitiful human speech hope to encompass the intensity of a god’s undivided attention; his god’s specific acknowledgement of a primitive life such as his?

Tears sprang unbidden in Steve’s eyes. He became aware how lowly and frail his own body was, and how utterly insignificant his existence was in the vastness of the stars in the sky. He curled forward, hiding his face and making himself as small as he could. He could not bear his god seeing his mortal failings and imperfections. It would invite an exquisite, holy agony Steve surely wouldn’t survive.

“Oh,” the Lord of Night breathed. “I forgot how that could feel to a human. I’ll try not to do it again.”

“No,” the word tore out of Steve’s throat without any conscious thought. “No, please. Please, my Lord.”

Steve didn’t even know what he was begging for because the singular attention of a god was agony but the thought of his god leaving him filled him with terror. He shattered, left with no purchase save his god’s words. Then there were arms around him, pulling him close, and enveloping him in constellations. Steve’s vision blurred. Great, heaving sobs overcame him as though ripped from his very soul. The Lord of Night murmured comfortingly.

“Alright, there we go,” he said softly. “I’m here, Steve. I see you in the night, every night. The stars shine for you, Steve. The moon turns its face for you. I’m with you, Steve.”

The words crashed into him with the unrelenting force of ocean waves. They swept his footing from underneath him and sent him spinning endlessly, endlessly. They lifted him upwards and sent him plummeting down until he was deep below the surface where the currents finally slowed. Surrounded by eternally burning stars, he was left weightless and suspended in an unearthly calm. The words rang in his skull with the surety and strength only a celestial being could claim.

Somewhere between an eternity and no time at all, Steve came back to himself feeling overexerted, though he hadn’t moved from where he knelt. Steve’s heart and soul had been scraped out of his chest, put between a pestle and mortar before getting unceremoniously dumped back in his weak flesh, but in a weirdly good way. His sobs subsided. His breathing came in and out slowly.

Eventually the cloak of constellations released him as well. He blinked his eyes open gradually to see his god kneeling before him at arm's length, palms resting on Steve's shoulders. Steve felt a stab of shame at having brought his god down low to a mortal's level.

“Sorry. I’m sorry,” Steve croaked. “Do you still–? Can I still be–?”

“No, yeah,” the Lord of Night said straight away. “That was on me. Not your fault at all. I’m out of practice interacting with mortals."

The god’s words lost the gravitas from before in a way that would've been jarring if it weren't such a relief. He finally broke his hold on Steve. He got to his feet, somewhat gracelessly.

"Let’s try that again?” the Lord of Night asked.

Steve cleared his throat. He straightened up where he knelt and kept himself still. He nodded to show he was ready.

“Steve Harrington,” the god said. This time hearing his name on his god’s lips was exhilarating but at a level a human could bear. “Do you swear to spread my values in the minds and hearts of mortals, through action and word?”

“I swear.”

“Then will you, Steve Harrington, do me the honor of being my sword and shield? Will you carry my crest through all your agonies and all your joys?”

“Yes.”

For a breathless moment, their words hung in the air, resonating through the night with finality. The Lord of Night reached out and gently traced something on Steve's forehead. Steve assumed it was his god's sigil, though neither Robin or Dustin could find any images of it so he couldn't be sure. It felt like an incomplete circle with a squiggle running through it. The god stepped back to observe him when he was done.

The stillness that followed, ironically, rattled Steve’s bones with relief and joy that it was done. His god had accepted him. Then the Lord of Night shuffled his feet in an awkward, shy manner.

“Cool,” said the Lord of Night.

The heaviness and tension brought down by the gravity of their oath ruptured with that single world, and Steve could do nothing but dissolve in helpless, giddy giggles.

#trensu tells stories #stasis in darkness #stranger things #steddie #steve harrington #you know what #i'm actually pretty proud of how this scene worked out #there were parts of the other versions that i really really liked but they ultimately didn't fit the tone of the story #but i'm glad i ended up with this version #and that this scene is done #because the next scene is one i've been churning in my brain for ages but i couldn't start it without establishing how this one would go

408 notes · View notes

dyns33 · 4 months

Text

The way to communicate

Being a while since I did a Din Djarin x female reader.

It was rare for Din Djarin to get angry.

It's hard to say if it was because of his creed or if it was in his temperament, but he did his best to always keep his cool.

Becoming the father of a little green gremlin who had a hobby of getting into mischief probably forced him to be even more patient than he was before finding the kid, or meeting Y/N.

Even when the little one put himself in danger, Din didn't scream. Maybe he knew it wouldn't have any effect on Grogu, but he gently picked him up, using an equally gentle voice to scold him.

“I already told you not to do that.” he often sighed, patting the child's head. "You know you risk choking if you swallow a whole frog. Especially since you've already had two meals, you're not hungry."

“Gah !”

"No."

Y/N watched the scene with sparkling eyes and trying to hide her smile, because a great Mandalorian warrior, no matter how patient, probably wouldn't like to be thought of as adorable. He was supposed to be scary and awesome.

When he was with Grogu, Din Djarin wasn't scary at all. He didn't scream when the little one drew on the walls, or hid in a corner, or played with the buttons. Never.

Of course, it wasn't the same with enemies or bounties. He didn't like killing, he would avoid it if possible, but he had no problem accomplishing his mission without the slightest remorse. It was the Way.

Honor, strength, and protection of his clan were his priorities. As he was patient, Din was discreet. A man of few words, preferring actions.

Because of this, Y/N wasn’t sure where she stood in relation to his family. After she helped him find a former Empire general, while risking her life to protect his son, they had stayed together.

At first, Din had considered himself indebted to her. Then, he offered her a job, seeing that she took good care of Grogu when he was absent and that she had some knowledge of mechanics, very useful when the ship had some problems.

But could she consider herself a member of the clan ? Y/N wasn’t sure.

It would have been easy to ask the Mandalorian directly. He would then have clearly answered whether he saw her as a member, or as just a flying partner who took care of his child.

Asking the question directly meant taking the risk of having to face reality and accept the possibility that she wasn't as important to Din as he and Grogu were to her.

She therefore preferred to say nothing and take advantage of the time offered to her with them, experiencing many adventures, as well as wonderful moments.

Until the announcement.

"There are no new contracts at the moment and Grogu needs some rest, so we'll head back home to Nevarro."

"Oh. Okay. I'll probably go to Coruscant then. You can contact me if necessary." Y/N said without looking at him, continuing to play with the kid.

"… I'll drop you off."

The silence in the ship grew colder than calm as they headed toward Coruscant.

Rather than wait to get there, Din decreed that it was necessary to make several stops to buy supplies, check that they had enough energy, that the engine had no problems, and lots of small details that wasted their time unnecessarily.

"We could do all of this on Coruscant. It's not that far."

“I don’t want to take a risk.”

"But we checked everything before the last mission and…"

“I said we were stopping for water !” the Mandalorian then repeated with a loud voice and violently placing his hands on the dashboard.

This made Y/N jump, but also Grogu, who stared at his father with wide eyes, full of surprise and fear. Visibly ashamed of his reaction, Din sighed before muttering that he needed to cool off, leaving them alone in the cockpit.

Things didn't get better when they arrived in Mos Eisley. Not really wanting to stay idle, Y/N took advantage of the little one's nap to go for a walk in the market, while Din chatted with Peli.

She didn't want to go to Coruscant at all and all these stops might have been a blessing, but like with a bandage, she knew it would be better to leave right away rather than torture herself like this.

It was normal that the clan wanted to go home to rest. It was normal that she wasn't invited since she wasn't part of the clan.

What was less normal was Din's behavior, who seemed to avoid her as much as possible and be tense whenever they were in the same room. He had no reason to be angry with her, who continued to work normally despite her sadness.

The situation was also complicated for Grogu, who felt that something was wrong between the two adults. The poor kid ate less, sticking to Y/N every chance he got. It was almost impossible to get him off.

So Y/N wanted to take advantage of this little moment alone to get out of the ship and clear her head.

She didn't expect to be caught by bounty hunters who had spotted the Mandalorian's arrival. Despite Moff Gideon's death, there were still some people who wanted Din Djarin's head.

Since he was training Grogu to be a fighter, Din had also shown her some techniques, so she could defend herself if needed. Although he always added that it wouldn't be necessary, since he would be there to protect her.

Fighting a nice Mandalorian who held back his punches was one thing. Trying to do the same thing with three guys who didn't care about hurting her was something else.

Fortunately for Y/N, when she had just taken a blow to the nose which had made her fall to the ground and the leader of the gang approached to pick her up, Din arrived at that moment, quickly shooting the brigands without missing a target.

He then ran to pick Y/N up and take her back to the ship to tend to her injuries. Wanting to help when he saw her bleeding, the kid used his powers before his father had time to grab the first aid kit.

The panic subsided, a long silence returned, only broken by the little noises of Grogu asking to be carried by Y/N. But when she moved to lean towards him, the Mandalorian spoke.

"What possessed you to leave alone ? Without a word, without saying where you were going ? You were lucky that I noticed your absence and went looking for you."

"I didn't think I needed permission. And I didn't ask to be attacked."

"That's not what I said. But you could have gotten kidnapped ! You could have died ! Why didn't you tell me you were leaving ?! I thought… I thought that you left us. That you had gone to find another means of transportation to Coruscant."

“Why would I do that, since you’re taking me there ?”

“Don’t pretend to be stupid !” Din then shouted, pointing at her, almost scaring her.

The gesture probably scared Grogu more than her, who knew he was going to do nothing but scream like an idiot, but something happened that they would have thought impossible.

With his powers, the child pushed his father against the wall of the ship, as far away from Y/N as possible, then he jumped on her knees, clinging to her while moaning in fear.

The two adults remained frozen. Even though she couldn't see his face, Y/N could guess Din's shocked and hurt look, who understood that his son had thought he was capable of hurting the one he seemed to consider his mother. He saw fear in Grogu's eyes.

"No, I… I shouldn't have shouted." he whispered as he sat on the ground, lowering his head in shame. "Sorry."

"It's okay. I know you weren't going to do anything."

“Obviously he doesn’t know.”

“He doesn’t like shouting.” Y/N said, stroking Grogu’s head to comfort him. "He doesn't like arguments. We should go to Coruscant quickly, it would be better for everyone."

“You really want to leave us so quickly ?”

Din's voice almost broke at the end of his sentence. Y/n stared at him, but he didn't raise his head to look back at her, thus not seeing that she didn't understand his question.

"… You're the one who wants me to leave. So you can return to your home to Nevarro."

"… I meant our home. Grogu, you and me. I thought… I thought you understood, Cyare, but you rejected the invitation. I thought I misunderstood and that you didn't want to to be part of our clan."

“You mean… I’m part of the clan ?”

"Of course." the Mandalorian whispered, finally looking at her. "Mesh'la, we have traveled together for so long. We fight together. We raise Grogu together. I know our customs are different, and we haven't taken our vows yet, but…"

"Our vows ?!"

"… Yes. I've been courting you for a while. You accepted the gifts. You train with me. You let me kiss you. I didn't think it wasn't clear. Forgive me, cyare, I shouldn't have had any illusions."

Words were less important than actions to the Mandalorians, even if they had certain songs and rites. Y/N totally didn't understand that receiving a weapon and touching the helmet with your forehead had special meanings, and Din hadn't told her that.

In his corner, Grogu had only understood that his parents loved each other, because that was obvious, and they just needed to be together to be happy. The rest didn't matter.

All it would have taken was for Din to take them back to Nevarro without opening his mouth, and Y/N would have been surprised but delighted to be welcomed into their little home. Instead, he had tried to communicate, and it had been a disaster.

Now the son was afraid, trembling against Y/N who was processing the fact that Din had been thinking about marrying her for some time, until he realized that he had done everything wrong.

He had yelled at his clan, even if it was because he was afraid of losing Y/N. He hadn't known how to protect them properly. He was covered with shame.

"I don't want to go to Coruscant."

Since he didn't move, too busy determining if he had poked his head by being thrown by the Force, Y/N slowly got up, keeping Grogu close to her, to join him on the ground.

"I was disappointed that you didn't ask me to come. It wasn't clear to me that I was part of the clan, but it was my dearest wish. To stay with you and the little one. If you still want of me…"

“Cyare !” Din sighed, taking her hand. “Nothing would make me happier.”

“Bah ga ba !”

Grogu stirred then, patting his father's hand insistently so that he let go of Y/N's, his large eyes piercing the Mandalorian's berskar.

"... I have already apologized."

“Pato !”

"… I'm sorry for scaring you, and for yelling at Y/N. I won't do it again. I will never hurt any of you. And I'll make sure there are no misunderstandings before drawing conclusions."

“Aaaaaaaah.” was Grogu's response, who smiled again, holding out his arms to be picked up by Din, who complied without hesitation.

This made his parents laugh. They hadn't laughed in a long time.

The ship's coordinates were changed to go directly to Nevarro. No need to make any more unnecessary detours, since all the stops they had made so far were useless. Din was only trying to buy time, not knowing how to get Y/N to stay.

“So, you talked about vows ?” she said shyly as they landed, the kid sleeping on top of her.

"Later, Mesh'la. My request wasn't very romantic."

“Mandalorians worry about romance ?”

"No. But I imagine it will please you."

Y/N could have said she didn’t need all this. Knowing that he saw her as a member of his clan, as the mother of his son, was enough. But she didn't want another misunderstanding that might hurt Din, and she would be happy to be his wife, so she just nodded.

There was no more arguing, no more shouting. Not even when Grogu swallowed the ring that Din had the Armorer make. He simply sat down in a corner, grunting while tapping his helmet, while the little one hiccupped, regretting having eaten the little shiny circle.

“We can get it back in a few days.”

"No."

“We’ll clean it up.”

"Cyare, there's no way I'm giving you a gift that was eaten by the kid and which passed… Hmm !"

Luckily, the ring was spat out, but it took a while for Din to agree to take it back, and then officially offer it to Y/N. He insisted on going to Mandalore to purify it in the waters, while announcing to his peers that he would soon have a riduur.

He didn't bring Y/N and Grogu with him on this trip. The little one was too tired, and someone had to watch over him.

“Karga could have kept him.” Y/N remarked when Din had returned.

"He would have ended up losing his mind after Grogu destroyed everything in his office. I don't think the kid would have liked to be left alone either. Besides…"

"What ?"

"You are beautiful, Mesh'la. Some Mandalorians might have wanted to take you. I would have had to fight and kill them to prove that you are mine. I preferred to avoid that."

It sounded ridiculous, but he said it very seriously, his tone quickly becoming dry and somber.

Din Djarin did not often get angry, except when it concerned the protection of his clan, when someone tried to hurt them or take them from him. He hid his anger and jealousy beneath his armor, but it was there, ready to come out against those who had the audacity to confront him.

But never against Y/N and Grogu. Only for them.

#the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin imagine #din djarin fanfiction

254 notes · View notes

luxurychristmaspudding · 4 months

Text

let me be needed

summary: the mandalorian pays you an unexpected visit. you both get more than you bargained for.

pairing: din djarin x f!sex worker!reader

ratings/warnings: 18+, MDNI. set in the star wars universe. sub!din, soft dom!reader, oral (m receiving), thighriding. established sexual relationship. you get cockblocked by grogu and feel a little sad at the end :(

wc: 3k

an: written for @iamasaddie's writing challenge!! <3 i know i said this would be for dieter, i know. it still might be. the links to din are SO tenuous but that tin can has left me with devastating brain rot.

The Razor Crest is docked in a terminal in the main part of the city, but you are yet to see the Mandalorian.

Not that you particularly expect to, but it’s rare that he takes a trip to your city and doesn’t visit.

You’ve been busy enough with customers all day not to dwell on it, and as the evening begins to wind down, golden light slanting through the windows, you begin to make peace with the fact that he might just not have time. He has the child to look after, and, presumably, quarry to retrieve.

You make your way back to your room with a fresh cup of caf, passing the droid which mans reception and the welcome area.

‘You have a client waiting,’ it says, smooth and robotic. You frown.

‘Who?’

‘A walk in. They did not leave a name.’

You nibble at your lip and sigh, gut swooping, heart kicking up a notch at the thought of him seeking you out at last. You shake it away. The last thing you need is to be disappointed further by some ragged old merchant laid out on the bed.

When the metal of your door clicks and sweeps open, you do well to suppress your delight. The Mandalorian is sat upright on the mattress, hands clasped over his lap.

‘I’m surprised to see you, Mando,’ you say, placing your mug on the console and busying yourself with your data-pad to check his information. ‘I wasn’t expecting you today.’

‘I wasn’t expecting to be here.’ He answers, voice smooth and husky through his vocoder. But it’s twinged with something a little different, a little warmer - you notice it the more he speaks. You smile up at him.

‘Anything changed?’

‘No.’ He says, and you tick the relevant boxes on the data-pad, tucking it away again on the console by the threshold.

‘Business or pleasure?’ You ask, locking the door.

‘Business.’

Your mouth quirks.

‘Nothing to do with me?’

He cocks his head at you, and you flutter your eyelashes like he hasn't already paid the droid on reception your fee and, likely, a generous tip.

‘No. No bounty for you.’

You smile with your teeth as you move towards him, the helmet tilting to watch you, to look up and down your body.

‘So pleasure, then?’ You purr, placing your hands on his shoulders.

‘Pleasure.’ He echoes, voice a little tighter than normal, betraying him more than you’re used to. You cup the side of his beskar cheek, stroking your thumb over the cool of the steel, though you know he can’t feel it.

‘What do you need?’ you ask, gently. ‘Do you want to watch me again? Or do you want my hands?’

Mando’s head drops to look down and away from you. You’re getting used to it - to an extent - his hesitancy, his shame. It spurs you on, wants you to make him feel good, to realise his desires. To live them, and not push them away. It’s why you wait for him to come around.

‘I want -’ he starts, but cuts himself off with a choked sound, and you tilt your head. You place two fingers below his helmet and tilt his chin up towards you.

‘Use your words, Mando,’ you remind him. You’re rewarded with a sharp intake of breath.

‘I want - your mouth.’ He breathes.

And whatever you were expecting, it was not that.

You keep his chin tilted upwards, eyes searching his visor as though you could see the face beneath.

‘You’re sure?’

The Mandalorian nods, once.

‘Yes.’

You nod back, considering, thumb swiping back and forth again over the beskar.

‘Are you gonna be good?’

A broken moan filters through the modulator, and his head tips back further of its own accord.

‘Yes.’

You smile down at him.

‘Take yourself out for me, baby.’

You step away from him as the hunter’s hands scrabble with his fly, shifting his hips up briefly so he can pull his cock from his trousers. He grunts when it makes contact with the cold air of your room, and holds it steady, squeezing at the base. You coo at him, at the deeply flushed tip, at the precum already smeared down his length.

‘Oh, baby boy,’ you breathe, lowering yourself to your knees with two hands on his. You blow even cooler air on his tip, smirking as he flinches and hisses. ‘How long have you been like this?’

‘Dinner.’ He grits out. You raise your eyebrows at him.

‘Hours?’

He nods quickly, squeezing his base again. You watch, thrilled, as more precum oozes out.

‘Yeah. Couldn’t leave without seeing you. Knowing you were so close by. Just had to get the kid to sleep.’

You pout at him.

‘My poor Mandalorian. Let me make it better.’

He watches with dogged devotion as you lean forward and brace your elbows on his knees. You watch as his gloved hands clench the edge of the bed in anticipation as you draw near, watch his thighs tense beneath his clothing and armour as he feels your breath against his skin.

You don’t let him think anymore before you’re licking a long, hot stripe from his heavy balls to his tip, and his whole body goes slack, helmet thumping against his breastplate. When you do it a second time, a ragged, torn breath echoes from the modulator, and you hum against him, bringing a hand to his base to squeeze as you slot your lips over the tip.

Mando knows the rules from here. He has to watch you, has to keep his visor trained to your movements, has to keep his hands to himself. These are his rules every time.

You’re excited to see how he holds up tonight.

You swirl your tongue around his slit, and he groans long and loud, twitching as you flutter at his frenulum. His precum is thick and salty in your mouth, and you swallow it greedily before loosening your jaw and taking him all the way to the base.

The Mandalorian’s whole body goes rigid as he watches you, feels you take him down your throat and swallow around him.

‘Fuck,’ he half-sobs through the modulator, and you hum against him. ‘So good. How is your mouth so good? How do you -’ he cuts himself off as you begin to bob up and down him, swirling your tongue and hollowing your cheeks. He chokes out moan after moan, lost at what to do with himself.

But he doesn’t touch you. He’s a stickler for rules, after all.

When you pull off him to breathe, you make sure he sees you palm your tits through your dark tunic. Make sure he sees you cup your sex through your trousers, rolling your eyes back for good measure, already feeling the wetness soak through the linen.

‘Fuck, baby,’ you groan, ‘If you could feel what you’re doing to me.’

He moans desperately as you move your mouth back to him, taking him faster, deeper, stroking what you can’t manage so easily.

You huff against the neatly trimmed hair at his base as your nose presses against his belly, and the Mandalorian physically holds his breath, drawing his spine straight as you swallow around him again, as you move a hand to cup his balls, feeling them tighten.

‘Please,’ he gasps, ‘Please, please, I’m so close -’

You draw off him, painfully slow, and pump him with your hand as you talk.

‘You wanna come, baby boy?’ You coo, fluttering your eyelashes and drawing your brows together. His helmet bops hastily, sharp breaths being drawn in through hidden teeth.

‘Please,’ he chokes.

You nod.

‘You can come, baby. You’ve waited long enough.’

He whimpers loudly, unrestrained as you continue pumping his base and sucking his tip, fluttering and tracing with your tongue, sucking with just enough pressure to send him hurtling over the edge. His hips push up into your throat as he comes, spilling himself, warm and salty, down your throat. His cock twitches and jumps as he moans brokenly above you, the noise unusually vibrant through the vocoder. You keep him in your mouth long enough for the overstimulation to kick in, and let him whine and beg and thrust shallowly a little longer before you pull off him, smiling.

You swallow and open your mouth, and he groans at the sight of his spend disappearing.

‘You okay, baby boy?’ You ask as you gently tuck him back into his trousers, doing up his fly. He tries his best to catch his breath, heavy head hanging limply between his shoulders.

‘Yeah,’ he gasps. ‘So good. Thank you. So good.’

You hum approvingly at him, standing.

The sight of him still so spent, so fucked out, has you burning. You press your thighs together through your trousers just as he looks up.

His movements are languid, his words slurred, but his shoulders square. His hands twitch at his sides, loosening their grip on the mattress.

‘Take them off,’ he begs. ‘Please. I just want to see -’

You raise an eyebrow at him, at his tone. You want to be unimpressed, want to be disappointed. But the horrible, deep ache you feel in your core won’t let you. You’re soaked, and as Mando continues to meet your eye from the helmet, you begin to move.

He sucks in a breath, huffs out a moan as you hook your thumbs in the waistband and push them down. They pool easily at your feet and you step out of them, left bare after having forgone underwear as soon as you’d seen the Razor Crest this morning.

Your chest heaves, and all the Mandalorian can do is stare at you, taking in the shiny slick covering your pussy, so painfully obvious now you’re not covered.

‘You’re wet,’ he says, voice heavy and desperate, cracking. ‘You haven’t been touched. Come here. Come here, sit down -’ as he moves one of your legs on either side of his thigh and presses you down onto it, hands on your hips. You let him, going easily, brain fogged with arousal.

The metal is bitingly cold, and you hiss as your clit makes contact. But Mando continues, unfazed.

‘Go on, pretty girl,’ he groans. ‘Go on. Wanna see you come like this. Want you to feel good, too.’

You moan against him, driving and grinding your hips down. It feels wrong, the way he’s so quickly taken control, but having him finally in charge makes you feel lightheaded. Wanted, needed.

And it already feels so good.

‘Good girl,’ he whispers in your ear as you lay your head on his shoulder. ‘Such a good girl. Using your fucking mouth on me. I want you to come. Need you to come.’

You moan loudly against him, gasping at the coolness, how solid he feels as he rocks you back and forth. You’ll recall this later, imagining his cock instead, imagining dragging yourself over it, onto it, feeling him thick and long, moving inside you as you whisper praises to each other, as you clench around him. The tightness in your stomach grows more ferocious, winding itself until it’s hot, strong. If you can catch the right angle, if you can steal five more minutes -

A loud, ringing shriek fills the room, and you jump out your skin. The Mandalorian’s firm hands on your hips are the only thing that keep you from leaping up. He growls as your heart hammers in your chest, as you look around wildly for its source.

‘Mando -’ you moan -

‘Keep going. It’s nothing.’ He grits, and the shock of hearing his voice firm like this, close and a little clearer than usual, makes your cunt clench. You moan against his pauldron, teeth scraping against the metal as you give in, as he moves your hips faster, as you feel yourself moving easier over the slick you’re swiping over his armour.

‘Feels so good,’ you murmur. ‘Wanna soak you. Want you to go back outside to your ship and everyone to know where you’ve been. Want them to know how you made me come for you.’

He groans back at you, digging his fingers into your flesh, pulling, pushing, pulling, pushing, and you grit your teeth against a particularly strung out fuck as his vambrace begins to shriek and buzz with more urgency. Mando’s hands on your hips falter and then stop completely. You whimper against him, sucking in air as you bury yourself in his clothed neck.

‘I’m sorry,’ he says, and you tilt your head back to gaze, bleary-eyed, at him. ‘I have to go.’

He lifts your hips effortlessly off his lap and sets you on unsteady feet, holding your arms until he’s sure you won’t fall.

‘Did I do something wrong?’ You croak, panic clawing up your throat as he rises. Your legs shake, wet almost down to your knees, and you feel so bare and vulnerable. Fuck, you should have known -

‘No. No. Stars, I -’ The Mandalorian looks around the room, exasperated. He looks down and catches sight of your wetness spread on his thigh guard. He groans breathily, and your cunt pulses at the noise. ‘I want to stay. I want this. It’s the kid -’ he huffs, shaking his head. ‘He’s fuckin’ with the ship. Maker, the day he listens -’

‘It’s okay,’ you soothe, relieved. ‘It’s okay, let me clean you up.’

‘No.’ He barks. You flinch, and he rounds his shoulders apologetically. He repeats it, softer. ‘No. I want people to see. Want them to know,’ he steps closer, a gloved hand coming out to touch your jaw. You allow your chin to dip into it. ‘And I want to remember. Before I come back.’

You swallow, staring into his visor, seeing yourself reflected back - needy, wide-eyed - a state he has never had you in before.

Another sharp, tinny noise echoes from his vambrace, and he hisses out a frustrated, pained sigh. You soften your gaze.

‘Next time.’

‘Next time,’ he agrees. ‘Next time, I’ll - I want you to feel so good. Going to make you feel so good.’

You can’t help the shudder that runs down your spine, the way your body curls in on itself at his promise. Mando clears his throat, agitated, and busies himself with signing the data-pad, his back to you. You’re grateful. The longer he stares at you, watches you, the easier you find it to forget about the adorable little green frog he travels with.

‘And get your helmet checked,’ you say absentmindedly, gathering your trousers from the floor. The Mandalorian stops at the door.

‘What?’

You flush, biting down on your lip. Shake your head, shrug.

‘Your vocoder. One of the filters for the frequency bands in the modulator sounds like it’s damaged.’

He whips his head to look at you, unreadable. You twist your mouth at him.

‘Used to be a mechanic.’

‘A mechanic?’ He asks from the doorway. You try to smile at him, wishing you’d kept your mouth shut.

‘Little while ago, now.’

The Mandalorian stares at you for a while, the beskar of his helmet glinting in the low light from your bedside. You shift from foot to foot, heart beating so hard in your chest you can feel it in your arms. Leave, you chant in your head. Please leave, please go, please -

‘What happened?’ His tone is so soft that it skips past being condescending. Past the point of what’s a pretty girl like you doing in a place like this and straight to worry, to sadness. Stop. Stop.

‘The usual,’ you say quietly. ‘Not enough money, some hostile competition.’

‘You didn’t have anyone who could help you?’ The question is simple. You know why he’d ask it. Mandalorians have always been big on family, only abandoning them with good reason.

‘No. My parents died when I was young. A man who lived close by took me in. He was a farmer. Taught me all he knew,’ you huff a little laugh. ‘If it weren’t for him, I’d have been a foundling.’ Your heart stutters and you suck in a sharp breath as soon as you say it, eyes shooting to the Mandalorian’s visor. He doesn’t react, doesn’t move an inch. Your skin burns hot, anyway. ‘Sorry.’

‘It’s okay,’ he says. ‘What planet?’

You furrow your brow at him.

‘Lothal.’

He looks away, up at the steel ceiling, piecing it together.

‘Your hostile competition…’

‘The Empire.’

A breath rushes through his vocoder, easily heard through the fault in the mechanics.

‘And the farmer?’

‘Got me out in time. He - he didn’t -’ The softening of the hunter’s stance is enough to tell you he understands.

‘I’m sorry.’ He says.

‘It’s okay.’ You murmur. You want to reach out, want to touch him. Want to be held, even against the coldness of his breastplate. People don’t usually ask, don’t care enough. But he has, he does. He curls up in your arms after a particularly intense session. He loves watching you come. He makes you feel safe, like he sees you.

It makes you feel sick.

The silence is heavy, thick, until you turn your back to him to place the dirtied trousers in the laundry chute. It breaks the spell, and you clear your throat.

‘You should get back to the child,’ you say, strained, facing him again.

The Mandalorian dips his head, once.

‘Take care.’ He says, voice part-controlled, wrapped over that warmth trying to escape.

‘You too. Be safe.’ The words are soft, quiet as they leave your lips. Mando nods at you once more, still, before stepping out into the corridor, past the droid, back out into the city.

You watch him go, bereft, throat tight. And you can’t work out for the life of you why.

#din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you

254 notes · View notes

poopersdoopers · 7 months

Text

thinking about more stuff n things involving poly shanks x fem.reader x mihawk . can’t be bothered to edit.

👀

tw: nsfw, mean daddy doms, marathon cumming/ overstimulation; bdsm, age gap.

Imagine Mihawk milking you for all you’re worth, while Shanks holds you down.

Mihawk’s eyes are always so intense so unnerving. Just a simple, unblinking stare at you unsettles you.

A small touch running up and down your arm.

A firm grasp at your jaw.

His soft lingering kiss at your lips has you shivering.

Another hand grabs you at your waist tightly, you were melting.

“I wish I could get her like that from just a kiss.” Shanks laughs, always the least serious lover.

You flushed, he was right only Mihawk got you like this. You wanted to be good for him.

“Tell me what you want, little one”, his hand never faltering in his hold. His eyes scanned your face.

You shuddered this…it felt like your mind was being examined,like he was testing you.

You’re brought out of your thoughts by Shanks kissing the shell if your ear. You giggle.

“Don’t be shy now. Come on tell Daddy what you want. Yeah?” You can feel Shank’s smile right behind your ear.

Mihawk changes his grasps to gently choke at your neck, you swallow.

“Speak little one”, he tightens his grasp a little more, suddenly Shanks is wrapping his arms around your waist, keeping you locked in place.

“Oh!” you gasp as your face turns completely red and begin to feel that familiar heat spread across your body.

Mihawk steps backwards, leaving your neck lonely, and you pout. He grabs a glass of wine at the edge of the dinning room table. Before you could beg for more, Shanks snakes a hand down your belly. His big hands begin rubbing circles on your belly, then ghosting over pants, before palming on your clothes core.

“I bet Daddy got you all excited all ready, baby”. You whine and the red haired man coos at you before biting down on your shoulder lightly You squirm. “So cute.”

Mihawk watches his lovers closely, the way Shanks expert hands tease at your little hole. The way you moan and gasp so sensitive to everything. He smiles to himself. You two were beautiful together. A rare flash of emotion washes over his face, as he takes a long sip from his glass.

You glance up at Mihawk, teary eyes begging, “Daddy I wanna cum so bad—Oh!”

The red haired man gribs impossibly larger at this, “Oh so she speaks?”

“Very well then, I shall give you what you want”, the raven haired man saunters over eyes even more intense. Shanks snakes his hand from your pants a runs it back up you belly. Grasping at the flesh. You pout again.

“Daddy I don’t like that.”

“Sorry I couldn’t help myself you’re just si cute”, everywhere darling.”

“Id have to agree.”

Mihawk pulls you in for a kiss. Pecking your lips softly, before sliding a tongue in to sweetly lave at your mouth. Shanks runs his hands up your shirt, unhooking your bra from the front. He begins his assault on your nipples. You moan into your intense lover’s mouth and he rewards you by sucking on your tongue.

He pulls back face flushed slightly, “Lets take this upstairs, shall we?”

After quickly undressing. Shanks takes quick work of manhandling you on your large bed. Mihawk sits at the edge of the bed, ready to pounce.

“Hold her legs open for me, you know how she’s squirms.”

Shanks, takes both of your ankles into his hands. Bending you in half. You felt yourself leak on the bed and hid your face behind your hands in shame.

“ Oh no baby, Daddies want to see your cute face. Don’t be shy.”

“That’s right little one.”

You whined at this. The raven haired man stepped closer to inspect his little girl. Rubbing the meat of your strong thighs down to your pelvis. He rubbed his calloused hand down your slit. “So wet and ready for me, just like daddy said”, he growled. Taking a taste of your sweetness.

“You wanna clean up Daddy’s fingers?”

Your mouth was already wide open. Mihawk quickly pushed his fingers onto your tongue, as you licked obediently. You could feel Shank’s hardness from where you lay. “Suck them clean too baby girl”.

You closed your mouth, suckling. Mihawk sighed before shoving the fingers down your throat. You whined around his mouth.

“Fuck such a good girl..princess”, Shanks thumbs rubbed slightly at your ankles. “She’s leaking all over the bed.”You shivered again.

Mihawk waited until you earnestly began crying to remove his fingers from your mouth. Opting to shove his long, thick fingers into your wet pussy.

“So tight, it’s like your Daddies don’t fuck your sweet hole everyday”.

Ge began pumping his fingers in and out, curling them slightly to press on your bundle of nerves. His palm ground on your clit. You squealed.

“Fuck Mihawk, baby, she’s so wet”, Shanks could hear the squelch so loudly.

You whimpered and Shanks bent down to kiss you. “Play with your nipples, I wanna see how much you can cum”.

Mihawk added a third finger in, watching your face intently as you listened to Shanks request.

Tugging slightly at your pebbles, you gasped. Your breasts were always insanely sensitive, sometimes rivaling your clit. Mihawk couldn’t help it he had to tase you. Removing your hand he bent down, to take the sweet pebble into his mouth and sped up his fingers.

You cried out, another wave of heat crashing over you. His teeth lightly grazed over the bud, before biting down.

“Daddy Im gonna mmmm”.

You wanted to buck up into Mihawk’s hand but you couldn’t stop the vice grip of Shanks hands keeping you open for him.

“Already? So sensitive,” the red head cooed.

Mihawk rubbed his thumbs over your clit, smoothing soft circles into the skin. You came hard. All over his fingers and on the bed. He fucked you through it, until you felt the sting of overstimulation. You forgot to ask for permission.

You looked up at Mihawk, crying slightly.

“Daddy, so sorry. Your fingers feel so good oooh so full”, you hiccuped. There was the intense look again looking through you.

“You asked to cum, little one. You will cum again and again for me until I’ve decided you’ve had your fill.”

Shanks pulls your head into his lap. You could feel his hardness.

Mihawk and Shanks look up at one another. The red head smiles at him, knowingly.

Before you know it, Shanks is holding your wrists between his one of his big hands.

Mihawk kisses your clit, lightly before sucking. He plunges three fingers into your heat. You immediately buck you hips up to meet his mouth. He holds your waist in a vice grip, warning you. Replacing his fingers, with his tongue, he licks into your wetness moaning.

The raven hair man grabs your thighs, keeping you open before licking up to your clit again. He sucks hard. You cum again harder than the first time.

“So sweet darling. So good”, he licks his lips,”Baby you want a taste too?”

Shanks immediately pulls Mihawk into a ravenous kiss. Tongues and teeth clashing. Shanks sucks at his lover’s lips. The raven haird man moans softly, lips pulsing.

You whine and the men’s attention turns back to you, “You’re so needy little one”, Shanks bops your nose to emphasize his point. You pout.

“Hush little one”, Mihawk recounts before shoving two fingers into you again. Then three, then four. Pumping them in and out, before twisting slightly snd rubbing your sweat clit.

“So wet you could take daddy’s full fist if you wanted?”

You whined again feeling so full , so small, so loved.

“Gonna cum again just from my fingers? Haven’t had your fill yet?” the raven haired man teases. Shanks flicks at your right nipple then your left with his free hand.

“Ahhhh!”

A calloused tanned hand pulls at the abused nipples. You cum again, a vice grip on Mihawk’s fingers.

His face returns back to your core. “Greedy baby”. All you could feel was the lathing of his tongue, his long fingers inside of you, the pulse of your puffy nipples as you came again and again and again.

Your core was aching. You couldn’t anymore.

Until you felt the press of Mihawk’s thumb against your clit. You were too weak to protest. Caged in the strong grip of tie two men. Sobbing. Body shivering. Unable to escape. It was too much. But you wanted to make daddy proud.

As if sensing this, Shanks rubs your cute little belly.

“Aww baby, I promise I’ll give you something to suck on later, just be good, yeah?”

You sob.

Mihawk stares at your face, eyes unwavering. Rubbing slow circles onto your bud.

Your back arched, “Daddy no I can’t I—“, he sped up his movements. Shanks removed his hand from your wrists finally to grab at your face, forcing you to look up.

“Look,little one, as Daddy ruins you”.

You could see it. Mihawk’s flushed face, golden eyes halfway shut. His usually pink lips red and full from abusing your clit. Slick dribbling down his face and covering his upper chest. A sheen of sweat glistening his upper body. Abs tight and on the edge of ecstasy.

He snaked a finger in your throbbing pussy. His alabaster biceps bulged at the effort. You screamed, overly sensitive as you sensed the next peak coming. Mihawk moaned.

Shanks tightened his grip on your throat at you were gone. Dizzy and dazed, both men kissed down your body. Licking away your tears.

They held you in their strong arms as you came down.

“That’s a very good girl”.

#shanks x reader #mihawk x reader #one piece x reader #shanks smut #mihawk smut #poopersdoopers writes a fic

282 notes · View notes

peterparkersnose · 1 year

Text

Rough Day

pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

word count: 1k (short but sweet)

warnings: death (not prominent character death), child abandonment, descriptions of medical terminology, not angst but reader is comforted by joel, defined relationship with reader x joel

a/n i cannot wait for the last of us, im writing so much joel content to feed you babes in late december/early january (and after jan 15 when the show airs) title is not to be compared to the iconic din djarin fanfiction, it just fit too perfectly to pass up and make a possible reference (update 01/16/23 first episode was brilliant. only word i can use to describe that masterpiece)

summary Y/N comes home after a hard day of working at med bay and Joel comforts her

masterlist

join the tag list

read time: 3 mins 23 seconds

The walk home seemed longer tonight. Maybe it was because of the sheer exhaustion from not sleeping in almost days, or maybe it was just from the horrible day you had.

The vision of the woman with the fresh bite on her leg plagued your mind.

Her sobbing baby next to her made matters even worse.

The tourniquet didn’t work. The infection spread too fast. The woman didn’t even know she was bitten for days. How could you not notice an open wound on your leg?

How could Tommy had let someone into the compound who was clearly not well?

You shook your head as you fumbled through your keys to get the right one. It was silent. The crickets were even gone, nothing else moved except the flickering light on your porch.

Joel had to fix that one of these days.

The old door creaked open. The only light left on was the lamp Joel would leave on for you when nights like this would occur.

What time was it now- after 11? He would most definitely be asleep.

You kicked your boots to their place and set down your bag. Angry with the state of your scrubs, you began peeling your coat off and leaving it on the floor.

The stairs creaked slightly as you made your way up them. You pulled at your socks that clung to your feet. The bedroom door was left slightly ajar, you could see the lamp light peering through the crack.

Pushing the door slightly open, you found Joel propped up in bed with a book.

“Your still awake?” you asked, immediately taking the top of your scrubs off.

“You know I can’t fall asleep without you,” he said, a harmless dig at your absence lately.

You genuinely felt bad for being gone. It wasn’t your intention to work a double at the hospital wing and then have 3 people come in with all very serious problems.

“I’m sorry,” you sighed, opening your drawer and searching for a comfy shirt.

Joel raised his brows in concern. Your tone was off. “Everything alright?” he asked, folding the corner of his page and slowly placing the book next to him.

Ignoring the question that would most definitely bring tears to your eyes if you answered, you changed into some of Joel’s old flannel pants that were two sizes too big.

You turned to the mirror in your bathroom, staring blankly at your toothbrush.

“Y/N?” he asked, the bed creaking as he sat on the edge. “Please don’t,” you whispered from the bathroom, finding the courage to turn on the water to brush your teeth.

Looking up from spitting out your toothpaste, you found him standing adjacent of you with a worried look on his face. Your eyes looked tired and he knew you had an awful day. Joel knew there was definitely a story behind that face causing your mood.

The stress of the day always seemed to fizzle out when you were around him.

“Come here,” he says, accepting your embrace. The tiny sniffles you gave broke his heart. He held you close to his chest. One hand rested on your head, another arm wrapped around your back.

“It wasn’t supposed to happen. She could have lived,” you choked out. “Mhm, I know baby. Let it out.” he sighed.

Joel didn’t have to know the story to understand what was happening. He felt the energy coming off of you. It was bad.

“Everything will be okay.” he whispered, kissing the top of your head. “Let’s get to bed now, hm? We both could use some sleep.” he said, placing his hand on your waist and walking with you towards the bed.

You anxiously sat at the edge of your bed as Joel turned off the hallway lights. He hated the look on your face when he returned. Zoned out, you stared at the tiny photo on the dresser of him and Sarah. His large body broke your trance, engulfing you in another hug. “Everything’s going to be alright. Stop lookin’ so pitiful,”

Your hands grabbed his hips and drew him closer. The scent of pine filled your nose. He had been on patrol earlier that day you assumed. His hand carefully rested on your head, stroking your hair. Your forehead sat against his stomach. Joel’s stomach gargled, causing you to let out a brief laugh.

“Get in,” he said playfully, tipping your shoulder back as you fell into bed.

“Gassy,” you whispered, bringing your eyes up to match his. He was standing over you, your knees in between his legs.

“What did you say now?” he asked, smirk on his face. His large frame fell over yours. You yelped as he caught himself with his forearms next to your body.

“Watch it,” he whispered in your ear. He showered your face in kisses as you squirmed. Using his body as a catapult, you forced yourself out under him. Finally free.

You scooted over to your side of the bed and curled into the smallest ball you could. Joel knew exactly what you wanted.

He pulled up the sheet quickly with a snap, and let it fall over you slowly. He knew you loved this.

“Pillows good?” he asked. You nodded, a small smile appearing on your face. “You need anything else while I’m up?”

“No. But thank you.”

He climbed slowly in next to you. Joel clicked off the lamp and moved in right next to you. It was almost as your body was fit to compliment his. You two matched perfectly.

“We can talk about it in the mornin’ if you’d like.” he offered. He felt your head nod against his chest.

“Goodnight darlin’,” he said, wrapping an arm around you. “I’m sorry today didn’t go well. Tomorrow will be good, I’ll make sure of it. We can make a day of it,”

A sigh of relief came from you. He always made things better. He was right. Tomorrow would be a better day.

tag list: @dani5216 @uwiuwi @alohastyles-x @samanthacookieone @maddieinnit0 @alexxavicry @scoliobean @jmillerswife

1K notes · View notes

janaispunk · 3 months

Text

end game

series masterlist • this is part VII

pairing: Dave York x f!reader

word count: ~3.8k

summary: Heartbreak, an explanation and an epilogue.

warnings/tags: explicit smut (-> 18+ only!), angst, feelings, heartbreak, depression, mention of weight loss, fluff, able-bodied reader, reader has hair, dom!Dave, sub!reader, sir kink, degradation kink, fingering, unprotected p in v (it's never stated in the fic but i headcanon that reader is on birth control), basically free use kink, rough sex, dirty talk, spanking, spit kink, praise kink, Dave is a menace, praise kink, idiots in love, please let me know if i missed anything!

a/n: the biggest thank you to @joelscurls for letting me scream about this again and againnnnn, and reading over my drafts countless times, you’re the best, jess! <3

thank you to @daddy-dins-girl for talking plot holes with me and motivating me to write <3

thank you to everyone who has read and loved this series, i have received sooooo many kind words, feedback and just so much love. i started writing this as a pwp oneshot and the fact that it has turned into my first series ever and one that i had soooo much fun with is wild. i’m incredibly emotional about saying goodbye to my babies, maybe i’ll revisit them when i need to write some kinky shit out of my system haha. i hope that you like the ending that i’ve built for them.

a few words about the plot: i actually have zero clue how the hitman business works (shocker, i know), so some parts of this are purposefully vague in a way that i hope is believable and somewhat realistic. just roll with it, thanks :D

dividers as always by @saradika-graphics 🫶🏻

find my full masterlist here & follow @janaispunknotifs for fic updates.

The first week you don’t hear from Dave, you’re confused, but not necessarily worried yet. There have been weeks of silence in the past, though you’ll admit that you had thought that things might be… different now.

Your texts to him stay on delivered, never switching to read. Which has also happened before, especially when he was away on business, but still… The thought that he has gone back to his normal life without sparing as much as a glance back at your time together is nagging at you.

You can still feel his hands on your skin, can still hear him whisper in your ear how beautiful you look, how perfect you are for him. It’s hard to come to terms with the thought that it wasn’t real, that his words and actions didn’t hold the same weight for him that they did for you. Reality has finally caught up to you and it hurts.

When two weeks blend into three weeks and you’ve still heard nothing, you start getting worried. He had said his line of work was dangerous, after all.

Your conversation, still so close and yet a lifetime ago, echoes in your mind. 'Nothing's gonna happen,’ you had said. ‘Not to the girls, not to me. And not to you.’ And not to you. ‘You don’t know that, sweetheart,’ his voice rings through your head. Sweetheart. The word tastes bitter on your tongue and wraps itself around your chest until you feel like you’re choking with it, like you can’t draw breath into your lungs anymore.

Sweetheart.

You don’t know that.

Sweetheart.

You start looking him up online, to find anything that might at least tell you that he’s okay. You don’t want to believe that he would be cruel enough to ghost you, but you barely dare to consider the alternative. You find nothing, no mention of his name, like he doesn’t even exist.

Your calls stay unanswered, your messages stay unread. You find yourself subconsciously checking your texts and your emails countless times a day, catch yourself staring out of your window in the blind hope that he might appear outside. He wouldn’t just leave you like this, would he? Would he?

Days blur into weeks and eventually into months. You’re painfully aware that it’s not healthy, this kind of heartbreak, especially not over a relationship that never even meant anything. If only your heart would understand that.

It was never serious enough that you told any of your friends about it, never wanted to be labeled as the girl that sleeps with married men, never wanted to admit your feelings to someone else when you could barely admit them to yourself. Regardless, even without knowing what exactly was going on, your friends had tried to be there for you, to convince you to go out with them, to cheer you up, but you had turned them down often enough that on this Friday night, your phone stays silent.

It’s better this way. All you want to do is rot away on your couch, staring at the TV with unseeing eyes until it’s an acceptable time to go to bed. Maybe it won’t take you hours of lying in the dark to fall asleep tonight. Maybe it won’t remind you of a different kind of darkness in a different room, a room where the sound of waves against the shore and the deep breaths beside you lulled you to sleep.

You need to get yourself together, your inner voice whispers. Next week, you think. Or the one after that.

A knock on your door shakes you out of your thoughts and you pad over, expecting to be met with the Chinese takeout that you had ordered in hopes of fueling your appetite at least a bit with the prospect of comfort food. Absentmindedly, you note the surprisingly short delivery time. You barely look up as you swing the door open, busy fiddling with your purse to extract a few dollar bills.

After finally managing to pull them out, you face the doorway. A greeting dies in your throat.

Familiar deep brown eyes burn into yours, framed by the face that you wish you’d forget but can’t. The short brown hair, the clean shaven jawline that you can still feel underneath your fingertips, the memory all too fresh in your mind. He looks tired, you think, and instantly scold yourself for knowing him well enough to even notice.

The seconds tick by as you motionlessly stare at him, blinking slowly, your mind running a mile a minute. Why is he here? He can’t be here. Are you making this up? If so, things are far worse than you had thought.

He clears his throat, shifting his weight uncomfortably. It’s probably the least sure of himself that you’ve ever seen him.

“Hey,” he murmurs, his hand twitching like he almost reached out to you but changed his mind. “Can I- can I come in?”

You regard him for a moment longer. The sound of his voice makes him appear more real, and the fog in your head slowly clears. He’s alive. He’s here. In front of your door. Alive and well. Your emotions boil up inside of you.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?! You think you can just show up here after months and ask if you can come in? I thought you were… I thought…”

Your voice betrays you, breaking at the sharp sting of pain in your chest that you’ve fruitlessly tried to suppress and the feeling of your throat closing up. Tears spill over and you furiously wipe at your cheeks, determined to keep some semblance of dignity.

“I know,” Dave breathes, defeatedly. “I’m so sorry. Please let me explain.” His hand reaches towards you again. You shy away from his touch and an expression of hurt ripples across his face. “Please, sweetheart.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Your voice only trembles a little as you snap at him. After another look at his face, you eventually step aside and jerk your head towards your living area. You briefly think about how messy the place is, for how many weeks you didn’t have it in yourself to clean up. You can’t bring yourself to care. Seeing him walk through your flat again after being so painfully aware of his absence leaves you almost dizzy. You take the opposite ends of your couch, both of your bodies stiff, careful not to touch one another.

“Okay,” you sigh. “Explain.”

So he explains. How he received a call, barely thirty minutes after he stepped into his house, with a mission that was too perfect of an opportunity to pass it up. There had been no time to let you know, the risk too high to use his personal phone once he started working.

He goes back to the persona that took up half of his life for so long, the identity that is no more, the man that fell down a watchtower and was washed away by the sea. Body never found. At least that’s what everyone who knew this man thinks. Everyone who knew him, but not Dave York.

He’s been thorough with it, with the most important mission he’s ever done. There are no loose ends, no one who could trace things back to the real him.

It took longer than he had anticipated and he kept laying low afterwards, until he could be absolutely sure that no one would be looking for him anymore.

He doesn’t think that he’ll ever get rid of the worry, ever stop looking over his shoulder, but rationally, he knows that he did it. He got out.

Then he had talked to Carol, let her know that he wants a divorce. It had been- easy, almost. She didn’t cry, didn’t scream at him, just nodded like she had known this day would come for a long time. He thinks that she almost seemed relieved, in a way.

Your eyes had been glued to his face since he started speaking. Tears are silently running down your cheeks.

“I know that I should have found a way to contact you. I didn’t-” He sighs, running a hand over his face. “I didn’t know what to do. I was so worried that someone would find out about you. I never wanted to hurt you, you have to believe that.” He knows that he looks a mess, that his desperation to make you understand is written all over his features.

Every day that he didn’t call you, he knew that he was hurting you. He tried justifying it with himself, that having you think he left you was better than risking somebody coming after you. It never gave him much comfort.

It’s even worse, now that he sees the damage he had done. You have lost weight, deep circles have formed under your eyes and you move like you’re barely holding yourself together. He saw the panic on your face when he tried reaching for you at the door. No matter what he had done to you in the past, you always sought out the safety of his touch afterwards. Until now.

“Please believe me,” he whispers.

You study his face for what feels like a lifetime. Tears are glistening on your lashes. You look so tired, so defeated that it makes his heart ache.

“You’ve done it?” you finally ask. Your voice is a quiet thing, barely bridging the distance between the two of you. A flicker of hope rings with it. “You’re safe now?”

He nods silently, fighting the urge to gather you in his arms, to promise you that he’ll always be there from now on. A small smile curves your lips upward as you mirror his nod, like you’re trying to let this new reality sink in.

“That’s good,” you murmur.

You lean forward, your fingers tentatively closing around his fist that’s clenched tightly against his thigh.

Hope flickers inside his chest. He can taste the three words that he’s been wanting to say to you for far too long on the tip of his tongue. He’s not going to, not right now, not today. But someday soon, he thinks that he might.

Two years later

“Bye girls, say hi to your mom and Matt from me,” you smile, embracing each of them in a tight hug before they dash out of the door, a jumble of giggles and excited chatter. Dave trails behind them with a grin on his face, pecking your lips and calling out for them to slow down.

Your heart is full, overflowing with love for this family that, against all odds, has become yours. You watch Dave usher his daughters into the car and push the doors closed behind them, the smile still on your lips. As you walk back into the house, your eyes linger on the thin silver band adorning your ring finger.

It’s still new, still an unexpected sight when you catch it on the edge of your periphery. It’s the tangible proof of you being the happiest you’ve ever been.

Things had been rough at first, after Dave came back to you. You understood why he handled the situation the way he did, but it took you a long time to trust that he wouldn’t disappear again. To believe that he left his old life behind, that he chose you. But he did.

You busy yourself with cleaning up the inevitable chaos that having the girls over for Dave’s days with them always creates. It’s not the life that you would have expected yourself to have a few years ago, but right now, it feels like you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.

A few minutes later, your phone pings with a message from Dave.

Be back in 15. I expect you naked and on your knees waiting by the door.

You bite your lip, heat building inside you with rapid speed. Your phone pings again.

Don’t disappoint me.

Fuck. Wetness is already gathering between your legs as you jump into action.

The car door slamming shut has never sounded so good before. You’re listening intently, catching Dave’s heavy footsteps on the stairs and the jingle of his keys before the door opens beside where you’re kneeling.

You look up at him from your place on the floor, watching the mix of smugness and adoration on his face as he takes in your position. A shudder runs through you and your nipples harden under his demanding gaze. He steps closer, caressing your cheek.

“Such a good girl… my obedient little wife, aren’t you?”

“Yes, sir,” you whimper, the coherent thoughts slowly draining from your brain and craving more of his touch, more of him.

He smiles down at you, his eyes glinting predatorily. You’ve come to know this shift into the darkness since you first met, but it’s more playful these days, not laced with the urgency that possessed him back then. Still, he gets intense, especially after having the girls over forces you to keep things rather tame during those days.

“Show me your ass, face on the ground, come on,” he demands coldly.

You obey without question, turning around and bending forward, pressing your upper body down to the floor and presenting your backside to him. He lands a couple of slaps on your cheeks and you flinch, moaning out softly. Your pussy already feels slick with arousal.

“What do you say?” he asks, rubbing his hand over the heated skin.

“Thank you, sir,” you whisper.

Another slap hits you. “Do you know what you did to deserve this?”

You wrack your brain for a few moments, but come up blank.

“I- no, sir.” Your voice is small and breathy, your body bracing for the impact of his hand again.

He chuckles. “Nothing. I just felt like it.” Another slap. “And you’re mine to do as I please, isn’t that right?” Your thighs are trembling. You’re so wet that it feels like you’re dripping onto the floor.

“Yes, sir. Thank you.”

“You know what’s the most fucked up about this?” He crouches down beside your face and strokes your cheek softly, smiling down at you. “How much you whore like it.”

He straightens up and heads for the stairs. “Bedroom, come on.”

You don’t even try standing up, knowing that he won’t let you, and crawl behind him, which earns you another chuckle and a “good girl”.

The image of your naked form on your knees behind Dave who hasn’t removed a stitch of clothing sends another bolt of arousal through you. You’re desperate for him to touch you.

He roughly lifts you up and manhandles you onto the bed until you’re spread out underneath him.

“So…” He grabs your wrists and holds them over your head, pressing them into the mattress. “These stay right here, you hear me? Don’t move, or do I have to restrain you?”

You pout at the prospect of not being allowed to put your hands on him, but obediently hold them in place when he eases his grip on you. “I’ll be good, I promise.”

He grins down at you. “I know you will. Got my girl well trained, haven’t I?”

His words make your pussy clench around nothing and your “yes, sir” comes out in a whimper.

He leans in closer, spreading your thighs wider with his body and you force yourself not to buck your hips up against him. The craving for any part of him to touch you, for any kind of friction, is overwhelming.

“Please, sir,” you whisper. Your pleading eyes hold his cold gaze as he’s leaning over you.

“Patience,” he growls. “Open your mouth.” A disapproving click of his tongue. “Wider.”

You part your lips as widely as you can, sticking your tongue out and trying not to squirm against the sheets. He remains motionless for a few seconds, taking in your desperate state with a cruel smirk on his face.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you. Then he tips his head forward and spits into your waiting mouth. The filthy feeling of his saliva coating your tongue and filling your mouth almost drives you insane with want and you groan, shifting against his thick thighs between yours, but to no avail. You wait for his next command, your mouth still wide open, not daring to swallow before he tells you to.

But no command comes. Instead, he reaches up to press two fingers down on your tongue, dipping into your mouth and smearing your combined spit over your face. The silver band on his ring finger is cool against your skin and you shudder, loving the reminder that he’s really, entirely yours.

Your body feels like it’s burning up, your hands are twitching and you’re desperate to move them, to touch him, to do something, but you hold yourself still until he finally tells you to, “swallow, baby.”

He smiles and finds your lips for a surprisingly soft kiss, cupping your face in his hands. “You’re being so good,” he tells you gently. “Are you having fun?”

“Yes,” you smile, chasing his lips when he pulls back, but he tuts at you and you fall back against the bed, huffing out a breath. “Just… please.”

“Patience,” he reminds you, the softness gone as quick as it came. “Don’t make me tell you again.”

You bite your lip, but stay put while he stands up to finally start removing his clothes. He’s agonizingly slow with it, holding your hungry gaze while he unbuttons his shirt in unhurried movements that make you want to tear the clothes off his body yourself.

You drink him in, first the sight of his broad chest and his strong shoulders, then his muscular legs, and finally, making your mouth water and your pussy burn with desire, his cock.

As much as he keeps taunting you, you know him well enough by now to be able to tell that he’s just as desperate for you as you are for him, even when he’s trying to conceal it. He returns to you, sitting back on his haunches and drinking you in, until after what feels like hours, he finally reaches out and swirls his fingers through the wetness between your legs. It’s a barely there touch, but you’re so painfully turned on and sensitive that you let out a gasp.

“So fucking wet,” he marvels and applies the slightest bit of pressure to your clit. It’s enough to make you see stars and you’re sure that he could make you come just from this. But, of course he won’t. He laughs at your reaction and retracts his hand to lean forward instead until he’s on top of you again, your legs spread wide to accommodate him and his cock slides through your folds.

He lowers his head to nip and suck at the skin under your jaw, one hand toying with your breasts and your hardened nipples. Your whole body is buzzing, he’s so close and it’s so much, but it’s not enough, not enough, not enough.

“What do you want, baby?” he asks, peppering your skin with kisses and rocking his hips in small movements that make his cock nudge at your clit over and over.

“F-fuck me, please, I’ll do anything,” you beg, your body still obediently stretched out underneath him with your arms above your head. He nods wordlessly and reaches down to position himself at your soaking entrance.

“Be as loud as you want,” he growls against your neck. “I missed making you scream.”

He bites at your skin at the same time as his thrust into you punches the air from your lungs. You scream, just like he asked, as he hammers into you, his lips still attached to your neck, sucking and biting at the delicate skin. The sensation of finally being filled by him, of feeling the stinging stretch of the way he forcefully pounds into you is like heaven. You think that you’re talking, crying out a mix of his name and sir and please over and over.

You’re flying towards your climax and judging from his groans, he can already feel you tighten around him.

“Go ahead,” he groans, before you’ve even strung the words to ask for permission together in your mind. “Come for me, sweetheart.”

He pinches your nipple just once and the additional sensation is enough to send you flying, your pussy clenching around his cock and drenching him in your arousal as you scream out his name. It’s pure bliss, and you never want to come down.

“That’s it,” he growls, not slowing his movements, fucking you through the aftershocks until you’re a whining mess beneath him, “that’s my perfect girl, fuck-”

You force your eyes open to smile up at him, taking in the wrecked expression on his face, relishing in the knowledge that you’re the one to make him look like this. You just really wish you could touch him.

“P-please, can I-” you’re breathless, barely able to speak, and jerk your head towards your hands above you.

“Yeah,” he rasps, his thrusts somehow growing even more forceful, “do whatever you want, baby.”

Your hands fly towards his body, touching every inch of his skin that you can reach, nails digging into his back and fingers grasping at his hair, pulling him closer, closer, until he’s everywhere, all you can see, all you can taste, all you can feel.

“Fuck!” he swears, grabbing your shoulders and holding you in place as he’s pounding into you, “give me another one, touch yourself, come on-”

His thrusts are becoming erratic and you know that he’s close to his own climax. It only takes a few swipes of your fingers over your clit until you’re coming again, soaring through the heights of your pleasure, your whole body trembling with your release. Dave’s hips stutter and he comes with a shout, pulsing inside of your fluttering pussy until finally, you both still.

He drops his sweat-slicked forehead against your chest, peppering your skin with kisses and engulfing you in the warmth of his arms. After cleaning you up, he moves your bodies until you’re tucked against his side, one arm thrown across his chest while he holds you close.

You’ll never get tired of the feeling of his naked body against yours, of the way he feels like he was made for you. By now, you can admit that he had always felt like this.

“I love you,” he says, lips moving against your hair.

You press your face deeper into his neck. “I love you.”

It’s easy, now. Words that you say every day.

…and i love YOU, thank you for reading! 🤍 if you liked this, a reblog or a comment would absolutely make my day.

#janas fics #the dress series #dave york #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fandom #pedrostories #pedro pascal fanfiction #dave york fanfiction #dave york smut #dave york x reader #dave york x you #dave york x female reader #dave york x f!reader

195 notes · View notes

moonlight-prose · 7 months

Text

✧ STILL OF YOUR HAND ✧

a/n: i think this is the only fic i've struggled to title all kinktober. it took me thirty minutes to figure it out, but i can always count on hozier to help me out. so this is messy. honestly it was written in a 4am haze of simply wanting to finish, and i never read it back. so i have no idea if it's okay. but either way enjoy my loves.

day twenty-three - restraints | kinktober 2023

summary: "din was always scared he would hurt you. always tentative to give into your desires of being taken apart roughly, because he was a gentle person when it came to you. his life revolved around violence, yet when it came to this—you—he was anything but that."

word count: 1.9k+

pairing: din djarin x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, restraints, rough sex, p in v sex, din fucks, dirty talk, yet another man who runs his mouth but we love him, dom!din, yearning, no editing cause it was 4am and i lost part of my sanity.

Two weeks ago you’d proposed the offer to him in the middle of sharing a meal. He was in the middle of hunting a bounty; a way to pick up some extra credits while you traveled. The question wasn’t scandalous. At least to your standards it wasn’t. Yet there still lay some apprehension between the two of you about where you boundaries lay. How far you could truly go with one another when it came to sex.

Din was always scared he would hurt you. Always tentative to give into your desires of being taken apart roughly, because he was a gentle person when it came to you. His life revolved around violence, yet when it came to this—you—he was anything but that. And you thrived off it. You loved him and everything he gave you, but the prospect still remained, still continued to flicker in the back of both your minds.

“I want you to cuff me later tonight in bed,” you had said while drinking your caf. While the words came out simple, matter of fact and as if you were discussing the latest news of the galaxy. That’s not how he took them.

Din choked on his spit.

“Cyar'ika?”

You glanced at him over your mug, lips twisting up into a soft smile. “Yes?”

He was silent for a moment, body shifting where he stood and you wondered if he was hard beneath his suit. The question lingered in the air, waiting for a response, but Din was never one to outright tell you things. He was ever the silent man you met on Corellia a year ago. That didn’t seem to change as time went on. You simply learned to read him better.

“Din…”

“You know where the binders are,” he replied at last. His voice was rough through the modulator, body stiff and waiting. It seemed that your request had affected him more than you expected.

With a sharp intake of breath you nodded, slowly walking away from him and towards where he kept his weapons. The doors swung open with a loud creak, echoing in the ship like a fucking blaster bolt being shot off. Or perhaps that’s how you heard it in your head. You didn’t have much time to ponder over it, because there they were. Hanging neatly on the wall. An unassuming thing used on his hunts.

The same binders he had used on fugitives and criminals.

Suddenly the air felt thick with heat in the ship, your mouth dry and eyes dark with lust at the thought of him using them on you. There was always an understanding between you and Din. He liked control. Or at least most of it. Yet you always remained a part of the equation—always there to tell him what you wanted, what worked for you.

With these…you were officially out of the equation.

You felt your heart rate rise, excitement fluttering through your body. Grasping onto the cold metal, you ran your thumb over the slight design on the side. Merely bolts holding pieces of metal together, but the sight alone made your head spin. Digging your teeth into your bottom lip, you turned to head back towards the small cargo area.

Only to ram right into a very broad, very hard Mandalorian. With a soft yelp, you stumbled back, nearly landing into his weapon’s hold if it wasn’t for his hand shooting out to grasp your waist. Dragging him back to his body with a quiet grunt. The binders hung loosely in your hand as he cupped your face, tilting your head up to face his helmet. For a moment you swore you could feel the burn of his eyes on your skin.

“I found them,” you said softly, body humming beneath his touch.

His hand clasped around your wrist, removing the metal from your hold. “Turn around.”

“Am I your bounty Din?” you teased, sliding a hand up his beskar clad chest.

Only for him to whirl you around so quickly you barely had time to gasp in a sharp breath. His hand slammed against the button that shut the weapon’s hold, your body being pressed to the doors within moments. Your eyes fluttered shut, cheek rubbing against the cold metal as he reached for your wrists. The audible sound of the binders locking shut echoing in the small area.

His helmet pressed to the back of your head, a sigh leaving his modulator. “Cyar'ika. Is this…Is this what you want?”

“Yes,” you breathed, pushing yourself back against him—the outline of his cock pressing against your ass. “Maker, yes.”

He groaned, his hips pressing forward and grinding up into your body. “You want to be my bounty?”

“Fuck,” you breathed. The throbbing between your legs was growing by the second. Yet no matter how much you pressed your thighs together, you couldn’t appease it.

“Is that what this is?” His hands grasped at your pants, popping open the button before he tugged them down to your thighs. Dragging your already soaked through panties with them. “Maker you’re fucking soaked.”

His gloved fingers spread you from behind, taking in the sight of you dripping down your inner thighs. You shifted, whining softly as he took his time sliding his fingers through your slick. Coating the leather of his gloves thoroughly. He’d fuck himself with them later. Tasting what remained of you off the fabric, but for now he watched as his fingers found your clit. The sound you made was loud enough to echo off the walls.

“You wanted me to treat you like my bounty?”

You cried out softly, canting back onto his hand. “Yes. Fuck Din I do.”

His other hand reached up, gripping onto your hair and dragging your head back. The cold metal of his helmet pressed against your cheek, your breath no doubt fogging up the sides of it. But all you could focus on was the two fingers sinking into you, dragging along your walls. He growled when you grinded down onto his palm, a weak moan drifting to his ears, causing his cock to twitch.

“Dirty girl,” he groaned. “You need more don’t you?”

You nodded, teeth digging harshly into your lip until you tasted copper. You wanted to kiss him. To taste him, but this was all you would get for now. Later in the darkness of his cabin, he’d indulge in taking his helmet off. He’d kiss you as many times as you wanted.

For now you’d take this with open arms.

“Need me to fuck you.”

“Yes,” you whispered, your thighs trembling as he dragged his fingers out of you quickly. “Oh fuck. Din please—”

The sound of him fumbling with his pants silenced you, dragging a moan from your throat. You nearly crumpled against the wall when his cock slid through your folds, the head of it nudging at your clit. A high pitched whine came from you, hips dragging along the length of him and soaking him in your slick. But Din knew that this couldn’t end so quickly.

He grasped onto your hip, stilling your movements until you were pressed fully against the wall. The cold seeping through your clothes.

“You wanted this cyar'ika.” Lining himself up, he nearly lost it at the way your pussy fluttered around his tip. “Wanted me to fuck you like you’ve been running from me. Needed me to hunt you down.”

The words continued to spill free, unable to be reigned in and it nearly sent you over the edge from that alone. Din filling you in one smooth thrust brought you right there. A sob tore from your throat, knees giving out and if it wasn’t for his hold on your body, you would have hit the floor. He moaned brokenly, hips right against your ass and arm latching around your waist.

“Fucking perfect,” he spit, helmet digging into your shoulder blade. “Always feels so fucking good. Fucking made for me.”

“Din!” you mewled, hips canting back to get him to move and with a deep breath he finally gave in to your request.

The pace was ruthless. Quick and deep, each thrust shoving sounds you’d never made before from your chest. It was the opposite of every soft touch he’d given you. The bruising grip on your hip sent pain flickering through you, igniting the pleasure like a match to a flame. You felt your chest swell, head going hazy with the bliss that quickly filled you. And it just kept going.

He fucked you hard. Grinding his hips up with each forceful thrust, until he heard it. The squelch of your slick echoing in the space. The audible slap of his balls against your clit mixing with it. He felt his body fry—the strings that usually kept his sanity together now fraying to their breaking point.

“Can you feel me?” he asked, sliding a hand around to your pelvis, pressing down right above your mound and as if you were electrified, pleasure rocketed up your spine. “I’m so fucking deep inside of you.”

“Oh—fuck—”

Tugging your head back to his shoulder, he placed his slick covered fingers at your lips. “Suck.”

And you did without question. You took his fingers with a happy hum, sucking them into your mouth as if they were his cock. Your taste burst across your tongue, heady and tangy. He groaned deep and guttural as his body began to grow taut, balls drawing up painfully, but if there’s one thing you understood about Din…you always came first.

In everything.

Ripping his fingers from your mouth and gasping at the string of saliva that connected him to you, he dropped them down your body. Sliding them along your clit with ease. A sob was wrenched from you, fingers digging down on his arm as he rammed into you with quick stunted thrusts. Shoving you towards the very edge.

One pinch of your clit between his fingers and a deep grind of his hips sent you flying. A cry of his name hitting his ears as you clamped down around his cock, soaking him as your body writhed in his hold.

“Fuck yes,” he hissed.

Grinding up into you, he felt the white hot burn of his release rush through his body. He cried out against your shoulder, pressing his body against you completely. You were shoved up against the wall with nowhere to go, but you had never felt so safe. So content to remain right where you were. He came down with a sharp gasp, the last of his cum spilling into you, sending a warmth through your body that elicited a soft moan from your lips.

“You never answered me,” you slurred, body lax against the wall.

He huffed, hands sliding along your hips—soothing the places he’d held you too hard. “No.”

“No?”

“Don’t pout,” he replied, pulling from you with a rough breath.

You grinned, letting him collect you in his arms. “‘M not pouting. Just thought you wanted me to be your bounty.”

“You’re more than that,” he murmured, hand pressing against your stomach gently. “You always have been.”

Giggling, you felt the high of your orgasm begin to fade slightly, bringing you back to reality. “You say that as if I wasn’t your bounty once.”

“Cyar'ika.” The warning was clear in his voice, tingeing with something you never touched on, but the box had been opened.

You simply turned slowly in his hold and placed a kiss on his chest. “Have I mentioned how glad I am that you never took me in?”

He muttered under his breath, but still held you close. You’d have to ask him about it later, but for now you let it go. Accepting his soft response of me too as a final answer to something bigger.

#din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x y/n #din djarin smut #din djarin #the mandalorian fic #my writing #kinktober 2023 #pedrostories

267 notes · View notes

din-miller · 11 months

Text

Yaihadla

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Word count: 800+

Summary: Pregnancy is a wonderful, beautiful thing. Breast tenderness, not so much. It's a good thing you have a caring husband to take care of you

Warnings: fluff, pregnant reader, female reader, married couple, implications to sexy times, nonsexual nudity, title means pregnant in mando'a

You thought the worst part of being pregnant was the insecurity that came with the weight gain of growing another life inside you. It's not. Though you'd rather take that over this any day of the week. Din can chase away any insecurities you have but he can't chase away the tenderness of your breasts.

Though Din is nothing but persistent and would gladly try to kiss away the pain.

Normally you'd indulge him in his 'you can make anything better with a few kisses' method of fixing every problem, but right now the brushing of your nightshirt against your hardened nipples is making you want to scream bloody murder. You shift in the co-pilot's seat, leaning forward a tad so your shirt falls from your skin without causing a scene.

"Is something wrong?"

You glance up at your husband, meeting the back of his helmet. You blush at being caught. While you might be a good bounty hunter you can never sneak things past Din. You straighten up, toying with the hem of your shirt as you ask, "Would you mind if I take my shirt off?"

Your husband's grip on the Razor Crest's throttle slips at your words, making the ship jerk to the side. His head snaps your way and he chokes out; "I'm sorry?"

"My breasts are sore," You explain and slowly lift up the bottom of your shirt, giving him a clear view of your panties and a sliver of your rounded stomach. When all he does is stare in your direction, you repeat yourself, "Would you mind if I take my shirt off?"

"Would I mind…" Din trails off in disbelief, words stumbling over each other as he continues, "No, I-I have no, um, no complaints here. Whatever makes you feel comfortable, mesh'la."

You can't see his expression but you know his eyes are blown wide – half from shock, half from rapidly growing lust – and his mouth parted, tongue unconsciously wetting his lips.

"I think I'll forgo wearing a shirt to bed tonight too. The material is irritating my breasts." You sigh, shifting in discomfort again. You know your husband wouldn't mind in the slightest if you fully strip naked and strut around the ship.

If you weren't so sore you might have actually done so. Unfortunately all you can manage is the lamest strip tease in history as you awkwardly tug your shirt over your head, wincing when the fabric brushes over your nipples.

Din's chair is spinning towards you before you can even blink, his arms resting on his knees as he leans forward. You let a cocky grin slip across your features, throwing your shirt at his gawking helmet. He catches it and tosses it aside without any remorse. His helmet follows, then his shirt is next to add to the growing pile.

"Ner cyar’ika, your beauty is beyond words," He pushes himself from his chair, kneeling between your parted legs. One hand freely dances along the stretched skin of your belly, and the other paws at the side of your thigh, "The shape of you with my ad’ika brings me to my knees time and time again."

You have to clench your jaw because now is not the time for hormones to trigger tears. If you start crying now, having said to Din that you're sore, he'll start fretting over you.

His eyes drift from your face to lazily trace the curves of your swollen breasts. Transparent lust swallows his pupils and threatens to ignite a fire inside you.

You know this isn't going to go anywhere tonight. Even if your hormones change and you want to jump his bones until you're boneless and satisfied; you've already expressed your discomfort and Din's too much of a good man to give in to his own burning desires knowing it would end up with you in more pain.

Din's hand comes to lightly trail a path following his greedy eyes, avoiding touching your sensitive nipples as they drag across the skin of your breasts, "They've gotten bigger, ner kar'ta."

You glance down at them too, "Have they?"

He hums and gently cups both of them, "Mmm, heavier too. When you're not feeling sore I'm going to kiss the pain away. For now how about we turn in for the night? I'll even sleep up here if it's more comfortable for you."

"You know the baby doesn't like when you're not in bed with us," You gesture for him to help you up, "We don't sleep well unless you're holding us. Protecting us."

Din pulls you up and spins you around so your back is pressed against his chest. His left hand finds yours and brings them both to lay over your bump. His other hand trails up your thigh until it finds his favourite prize. He gives the elastic band of your panties a snap, mouth hot against the skin of your neck as he smirks, "These coming off too?"

#din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #din djarin #married couple | the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x female reader #mandalorian fic #justice joy writes #pregnant reader #tw: implications to sexy times

460 notes · View notes

korebringerofded · 5 months

Text

You Can Hear it in the Silence- Part 1

Roronora Zoro X F!Reader

Summary- A handful of moments, Zoro realizes he has feelings for you, you realize you have feelings for him, tension tensionnnn Warnings- Future smut, adult content, sexual tension? Romantic feelings? Crack fic energy, lots of fluff and pining. Usopp being personally victimized by Zoro, emotionally unaware and distant Zoro, Reader wears a dress? Strawhat!Reader

A/N- I ask that you read my rules before going any further on my page. Reblogs, likes, and comments are always appreciated and keep me going All requests are always open and you can find my entire masterlist here. Please do not copy, use my work, or put it through AI without my permission or I'll be really sad about it!!

A/N- Hope you enjoy! This was supposed to be an imagine buttttt now its a multi-part fic, sorry for no posts. Its mental illness aint it. Reblogs, likes, and comments are always appreciated and keep me going All requests are open and you can find my entire masterlist here

Roronora Zoro was not the kind of person who would often find himself discomposed, he was undeniably brave and headstrong, sometimes to a fault.

He was practically a one-man army, him being a ruthless pirate hunter turned pirate meant he had seen countless battles, faced many challenges.

So far, only two things could really cause that stoic image to falter, losing a fight, and you.

From the very first day that Monkey D. Luffy dragged you aboard the Going Merry, Zoro had taken notice of you. His sharp eyes followed you closely, taking in the curve of your pretty lips and the flutter of your lashes. It started as a simple interest, a curiosity for the newest crewmate, that was all.

At least, that is what the renowned swordsman told himself.

For the first few months of you being aboard, Zoro had believed he had been successful at ignoring the blossom of warmth he had started to feel towards his new crewmate. He had convinced himself it was truly nothing more than a friendly interest.

That was all, just a friendly and completely platonic interest in you.

You, who had a habit of wearing short dresses when it was a particularly hot day, skirts edge swaying at your thighs as you moved around the ship.

You, whose warmth and kindness made Zoro’s skin crawl and his chest ache in an uncomfortable and unfamiliar way.

You, whose sweet and musical laugh would play on repeat in Zoro’s mind like a siren’s song, no matter how hard he tried to stop it.

You, who would spend entirely too much time with that damn cook.

Not that Zoro cared, of course he didn’t care.

He cared, he cared a lot.

It was dinnertime, the sun setting over the shore while everyone was settling into their normal routines as the salty breeze blew along the deck. The entire crew sat around the dining table eating and conversing as they did nearly every evening. Nami, Sanji and Chopper sat next to you on one side of the table while Luffy, Usopp and Zoro sat on the other.

Luffy was talking to Usopp who sat at the other end of the dinning table, his voice loud as he shoved an absorbent amount of food into his face, his face pushed out like a chipmunk with chubby cheeks full of acorns.

“L-Luffy! Be careful, you’re gonna choke!” You stammered, watching with wide eyes and a pale face.

“Ah, I wouldn’t worry so much about him. I’ve seen Luffy eat 12 whole roasted chickens in a row before.” Nami said with a sigh as she patted you on the shoulder.

“What about the bones?” You asked

“Oh yeah, he ate those too. I’m not even sure he noticed he did it.” Nami said.

“I rike food, is that suwch a crime?!” Luffy asked with a huff as his teeth tore into the juicy meat of a chicken leg, the grease coating his face and the food muffling his complaints.

That sent everyone at the table into a fit of laughter, except for Zoro, who was sitting directly across from you at the table and was entirely too distracted staring directly at you to even notice the rest of the crew,

He had an almost unreadable expression on his face, his jaw tight. His body was tense, heart beating rapidly in his chest, like the echoing beat of a drum. Zoro’s eyes never left you, they followed the way your chin lifted into the air and your head tilted back as you laughed with your whole body.

He could see the small tears that formed at the corner of your glossy eyes as you laughed so hard it seemed to hurt, curled lashes fluttering as your hand reached up to brush the tears away.

Although he wouldn’t admit it to anyone, even himself, Roronora Zoro started to live and breathe for those bite-sized moments of your life. He wanted to see everything, experience all of you in every way possible.

Eventually, it got to the point where every thought that ran through Zoro’s brain would somehow descend to thoughts of you, your smile, your laugh, and those fucking eyes that were starting to ruin him.

As was normal aboard the Going Merry, Zoro was working out on the deck, doing countless amounts of reps with an abnormally huge weight, his rippling muscles twitching and sweat forming on his brow as he enjoyed the breeze and the sunshine soaking into his already tanned skin. He passed the weight between each of his arms after each set of reps, making sure each of his arms was properly matched.

Zoro was training particularly hard today, his bandana tied around his head to catch the sweat from stinging his eyes. He couldn’t help it, he had been distracted for weeks, he had to try and clear his head.

He needed something, anything to take his mind off of his new crewmate, you.

No matter how hard Zoro tried to avoid you, to ignore you, or be cold towards you…you would appear, and melt away that cold exterior like the onset of spring over a fluffy snow-covered field.

Just as always, as soon as Zoro’s clouded mind started to clear, your voice and presence appeared and sent a spark down the swordsman's spine, his muscles twitching as he glanced over his shoulder to see his only real weakness, you.

“I made some lemonade, you want some?” You asked in a honeyed tone.

Zoro’s eyes immediately scanned down to take in your outfit, gritting his teeth to contain the audible groan that threatened to escape his mouth. You were wearing a rather short dress, the brightly colored skirt swaying in the breeze as you held a tray with a glass pitcher full of lemonade and a few glasses on it.

“Damn…why do you have to be so cute?”

“That damn cook didn’t touch it, right? I think he's trying to poison me.” Zoro grumbled, only half-joking.

You giggled softly, looking up at him as you quickly shook your head back and forth. You sat the tray down on a small table off to the side of the deck, bending over just a bit to pour Zoro a full glass of the lemonade.

Zoro couldn’t help it, his eyes wandered down the curve of your back to your round hips, his hand clenching around the dumbbell in his hand as he saw the skirt of your dress ride up the back of your plump thighs as you bent down.

“Nope. I made it myself, it’s definitely poison-free.” You said with a toothy grin, standing back up as you offered him the cup, the ice clinking against the sides of the frosty glass.

“Hm.” Zoro smirked. “We’ll see about that.”

You giggled softly, still holding the glass out for him to take.

Zoro didn’t even realize what he was doing, your presence alone was like a bucket of ice water that short-circuited his brain. All rationality left his mind the moment he laid his eyes on your pretty face.

For a split second, you could have sworn you caught his eyes flickering down to your thighs as the edge of your dress fluttered in the salty ocean breeze.

“That was just my imagination, right?” You thought to yourself, your heart starting to thunder in your chest like an approaching storm.

Zoro didn’t notice the weight starting to slip from his hands and without really thinking about it, he took another step forward. His sharp eyes were staring intensely into yours as his free hand reached to take the glass you had offered him, your fingers brushing against his calloused ones for just a moment before…complete chaos.

SMASHH-CRACK

It was a splintering, echoing sound, the ship trembling back and forth at the sudden impact.

Usopp was pale as he rushed over and stared down at the weight sticking half-out of the deck and tottering back and forth between you and Zoro.

Ussopp stepped around the weight with his arms flying up around him wildly as he tried to get out actual words. He was puffing out air as his face turned red.

“WHAT…THE…HELL?!” Usopp managed to stammer as he looked up at Zoro with a perplexed look on his face.

“Uhm…sorry.” Zoro mumbled in a hoarse voice, clearing his throat with a cough, though his cold, sharp eyes never left yours.

“Is that all you have to say? Now I have to fix this!” Usopp huffed, his face red in frustration as he threw his arms up one final time and he ran off to the storage room to get some tools and supplies.

Usopp ran off, his body slumped over as he mumbled curses and complaints under his breath.

As Usopp left, Zoro’s eyes wandered from the weight sticking out of the splintered wood and then back to your beautiful eyes.

He was sure he would die of embarrassment then and there, your eyes were wide and you were looking up at him with a shocked expression on your face.

He was certain you would tease him, absolutely positive you would…but instead, he saw admiration in those big, beautiful eyes. You were honestly too awestruck to even notice Usopp's ramblings or to care about the damaged deck.

“Do you lift those everyday?” You asked, taking another step closer to him.

“Oh..yeah…” Zoro answered, his mouth suddenly going dry.

“That's…incredible. What do those even weigh?!” You asked, eyes glossy.

“Um…I have no idea. I think…1000 pounds, maybe?” Zoro chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish grin creeping up on his face.

Your eyes widened as you stared up at the swordsman, his chest was wide and littered in twitching muscles and pale scars from his many adventures. He had been training for a while and his tan skin was glossy with beads of sweat that rolled down to his rippling abs. Your eyes couldn’t help but follow the beads of sweat until they rolled down to his curly green happy trail.

Yeah, after that you were completely and totally head over heels for Roronoa Zoro, not that you could ever tell him.

Preview to part 2

“I can’t do this.” Zoro shook his head, shooting a glare at Nami.

“Yes, you can.” Usopp said with a chuckle. “She is totally into you!”

“Usopp is right, she is absolutely into you.” Nami nodded, hands on her hips.

“Why is he here, anyways?” Zoro grumbled in a whisper, pointing his thumb in Usopp’s direction with a look of disgust.

“Hey! I’m great at romance!” Usopp scoffed with a look of offense.

“This is going to go so badly.” Zoro said in a low voice, almost at a whisper as he started to rub his face with his hands, back slumped.

“All you have to do is ask her to spend the evening with you.” Nami said, one of her eyes twitching slightly.

“And if she says no?” Zoro retorted.

“She won’t! Now stop being such a coward!” Nami snapped, giving Zoro a slight shove towards the steps leading up to the main deck of the ship.

Zoro glanced over his shoulder to see Nami and Usopp each of them giving him two thumbs up before turning back towards the steps with an audible groan before he started up the stairs.

“Why did I agree to letting these idiots help?”

“I am not doing this. No way.”

Zoro’s thoughts came to a complete standstill as he made his way to the top of the stairs and to the main deck. It was like the unshakeable man had been struck by a great bolt of lighting at the very sight of you. His calloused hand was wrapped so tightly around the banister that the wood trembled under his grip, sure to shatter to splinters if the pressure kept up.

You were splayed out on the deck of the Going Merry, the afternoon sun shimmering down in bright rays of light and dancing over the surface of the freshly washed deck and your incredibly tempting skin.

Your hair was fluttering behind you as you lay in the sun and thoughtfully flipped through one of your favorite books, laying on your stomach and kicking your feet absent-mindedly. You had on one of those absolutely maddening dresses, they always had an effect on him but that dress drove Zoro’s mind to recesses of his mind he never thought existed.

He really couldn’t help it as his eyes flickered over your body, slowing as he scanned over the round curve of your ass and the plush skin of your thighs. It all was starting to make his head spin and his dick twitch uncomfortably under his clothes.

Zoro was so caught up in subconsciously memorizing the shape of your body that he didn’t even notice you had looked up at him, the book still laying open in front of you. You both just stared at each other for a moment before you eventually spoke.

“Did you need something?”

Part 2 Coming Soon

371 notes · View notes

orcasoul · 26 days

Text

Din Djarin Headcanons:

Din when you're injured

Oh how we love a protective and attentive man, and Din Djarin is the perfect example :)

Din shifts nervously, head searching in every direction. Something's wrong. He can feel it in his bones, in the pit of his stomach. "She should have been here by now," he mumbles nervously to Grogu, while placing a hand gently on his tiny head. Grogu wriggles in the satchel at Din's side, a little wimper of concern coming from him. This was only supposed to be a quick supply run on Tatooine so where the hell were you? And why, as the minutes pass, does Din's chest feel like it's about to cave in on itself?

When contact via com link fails, he decides enough is enough. He's waited too long as it is. "Don't worry, pal," Din said, softly, "We'll go find her." The market is still quite busy as Din and Grogu make their way through the crowded streets. Ten minutes of searching has turned into twenty, and still, no sign of you. Apprehension swirls in Din's gut, anxiety conjuring up the worst things imaginable in his head.

'What if she's hurt? What if shes scared? What if she's screaming for me right now?' He can't lose you, can't let anything happen to you! Why the hell did he let you go off alone? His heart beats wildly behind his ribs, panic and frustration taking root the longer you are missing. After questioning a few of the vendors, a woman informs Din that someone fitting your description had come to her stall earlier, pointing in the direction you'd left.

With a nod of thanks, Din immediately makes his way to the outskirts of the market. It's getting late now, the side street he's searching eerily empty and still. The silence is broken by a wailing Grogu, causing Din to look down at his side. Grogu's large brown eyes stare worriedly while pointing ahead. Din's stomach sinks when he sees it; Your satchel. Your unmistakable sage green canvas bag, with a picture of a loth cat on it, abandoned with it's contents strewn across the dusty ground.

With shaking hands Din picks up the bag and calls your name, over and over. The silence is deafening. He just needs to hear your voice, to know you're okay. 'Please, please answer me, Cyar'ika!' The world is suddenly too much, too suffocating, oppressive darkness closing in around the edges of Din's periphery. To lose you would be to lose the very best part of himself. His breaths begin to come shallow and quick, causing his head to swim.

Squeezing his hands into fists, he takes slow, deep breaths, trying his best to maintain some composure. He'll be no good to you if he falls apart now. Engaging the sensors in his helmet, Din urgently scans the ground. Dank Ferrick, there are too many footprints to discern. But then, an area of kicked up dirt at the entrance of a nearby alley catches his attention. Upon inspection, it's obvious a scuffle had taken place here very recently.

In true hunter mode, Din follows the telltale signs of dragging, all the way to a dead end, to be greeted by a sight that almost stopped his heart. There you are, face down and unmoving! Din's legs move of their own accord, carrying him to you by pure instinct and adrenaline alone. He drops to his knees beside your prone body, your name leaving his lips like a prayer, a prayer he's desperate for you to answer. Gently cupping your shoulders, he rolls you over onto your back.

Din chokes on a breath at the sight of you. His vision now clouding over in a sweeping tide of red, rage boils his blood to the point where he feels like he's going to explode. Your face is almost unrecognisable. Two black and swollen eyes, a clearly broken nose -still trickling blood - a split lip and a nasty gash across your forehead is the last thing he would have ever expected to see on you. "Cyar'ika?..." his voice trembles while trying to rouse you. "Can you open your eyes? Come on, sweet girl, I need you to open your eyes for me!"

Grogu reaches out for you, whimpering. Din can see he's distressed but what can he do? He could say you're okay, he could tell him not to worry, but how can he try to comfort him when he, himself, is cracking at the seams? Din cautiously scoops your unconscious body into his lap, handling you as if you were made of fine china. With your head lolled back, he can now clearly see big purple bruises littering your slender neck, bruises in the shape of fingers.

His whole being is now shaking with outrage, teeth almost cracking from the pressure of his clenched jaw. Who the fuck did this to you?! Why would someone do this to you?!.... And where can he find those fuckers?! A small groan slips from you, and Din released a breath he didn't realise he was holding, shoulders slumping, slightly in relief. You're alive. Thank the maker you're alive!

But that relief is snuffed out when you weakly cry out and clutch your side. Din removes your trembling hand and gently tugs up your top. How the kriffing hell did he miss this?! He'd been so preoccupied with trying to wake you, that he'd missed the stab wound, which is still oozing blood. "Dank Ferrick!" Din curses under his breath while inspecting the wound. To his relief, it doesn't look too deep. Clutching your limp form to his chest, he quickly rises, being careful of your state, and also trying not to jostle Grogu too much, who's sad eyes have not not left you.

Back at the Razor Crest, Din is silently seething. He cleaned and applied bacta patches to all lesions and stitched up the knife wound. A part of him is thankful that you'd lost consciousness along the way. The last thing he would want is for you to have to go through any more agony. Grogu has become your shadow, refusing to leave your side and snuggling up to you in the bunk. Now that the adrenaline has vacated Din's system, and you are home safe with him, he feels like he can breathe again.

He could have lost you today. It's unthinkable, the very notion that you could have been ripped from his life in the blink of an eye. How could he exist in a galaxy where you don't? He'd failed you toady. He should have been there to protect you. He'll never forgive himself! Looking at your battered and bruised face, Din is overwhelmed with a primal and desperate need to shield you from succumbing to harm ever again.

It brings tears to his eyes and a lump to his throat, seeing the brutal devastation left all over you, painting your body with all the horrors this cursed galaxy hides around every corner. This will never happen again. He'll make damn sure of it! He will destroy every bastard foolish enough to even try and lay a finger on you or Grogu ever again, starting with the pieces of Bantha fodder who attacked you. But that will come later. The main priority now is you. Din sits beside you on the bed, holding your hand and smoothing his thumb gently over your knuckles.

His heart skips a beat as your eyelashes flutter open, your heavy and exhausted gaze meeting his behind his helmet. His taut shoulders instantly relax and a warm wave of reassurance fills his aching heart with the smile you give him. You're okay, you're home and you're safe and he'll never let anyone hurt his Cyare again!

#pedro pascal #din x reader #mando x you #din djarin fanfiction #pedro pascal fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin #din djarin x female reader #pedro pascal fandom #mando #the mandolarian #grogu

70 notes · View notes