This is an 18+ blog, if you are under 18, please avoid any of my smutty things. I have updated my masterlist full of my WIPs, if there is one you want me to finish, let me know, I will make it a priority. Thanks for stopping by!
Not Yet - Fluffy, slight smut, slight angst - Cobb Vanth has some very vivid and quite frankly outlandish thoughts about you. Din starts off interested in your reactions to it but it very quickly turns into a fight and he's forced to back down or step up.
A Thing About Silver - Filth Smut and Angst - Reader is really horny and Mando refuses to give into her ultimatum. She takes comfort from Cobb before returning to Din.
A Thing About Silver Part 2 - Flithy Smut and Angst - Reader picks a fight with Mando when he thinks she’s leaving him.
Catch Me If You Can - Fluff mostly - Din finds new meaning to old words. He reflects on how he feels about the Mandalorian (reader) who has antagonized him since before they both swore the creed.
Space - Fluffy Drabble - Gender Neutral.
Cultural Differences - Fluff Angst - You hadn't even heard of a Mandalorian before you met him so you're a little bit of a ditz when it comes to his culture. Come to find out, you're engaged to one...
Cultural Differences Part 2 - Smut and Fluff - You and Din play a game.
The Belly of the Beast - Angst, slight smut and fluff? - Din's been lying to you.
The Belly of the Beast Part 2 - Angst, smut, a splash of fluff - You discover Din's lied to you.
Little Lights - Angst, Fluff - Din takes your to an emergency medical center when he thinks you might be dying.
Series:
Carnivorous Beasts - Draft - DinxOC - Eira refuses to not treat someone in need, even if they're a wanted criminal. She ends up on the run with a Mandalorian mercenary and a kid that shouldn't be exist. Set in a Fantasy Universe. Orc!Grogu.
Drabbles:
Daddy Kink - Smut
Little Secrets - Din
Works in Progress (titles are subject to change):
A Little Tainted Comfort - SMUT - Din can't stop running into you and all he wants is to taint you with him.
Every Little Thing She Does Is Magic - Angst and Fluff - Din refuses to give you more than a few feet of space when your mad and you're not good with feelings.
Dancing - Din Drabble - Fluff - You like your privacy.
To Define - SMUT, Fluff - I've got baby fever and ya'll are subjected to the my filthy breeding kink, not sorry, you could be somewhere else.
The Little Clone - More smut - Mando's Creed forbids you from not just seeing his face, but seeing any part of him until marriage. You find a loop hole for hanky-panky.
Muddy Water - Smut - You can't fill the medication you've used to focus since before you began jedi training and it has concsequences you never imagined (but don't worry, I did.)
Spice - Young!MandoxMando!Reader, SMUT - Freshly adults and a little too wild for the galaxy, you and Din smuggle spice into your quarters.
Hunted and Hunted - Vampire Mando - Dark SMUT, blood play, gore.
Cobb Vanth
A Thing About Silver - Filthy Smut and angst - Reader is really horny and Mando refuses to give into her ultimatum. She takes comfort from Cobb before returning to Din.
A Thing About Silver Part 2 - Filthy Smut and Angst - Reader picks a fight with Mando when he thinks she’s leaving him.
Boba Fett
WIP - Oblivion - SMUT - Boba is a brat tamer.
Other Pedro Characters
Agent Whiskey
Drunk on You - Smut - Just some Whiskey Drabble
Growing on You - Fluffy Smut - Frankie Drabble (I was playing a word associated game with a friend and this just kind... booped to life)
Something About Teeth - Filthy Smut - You get to dance with Frankie.
Knots - Angst/Comfort - Your fiance comforts you about wedding troubles.
Works in Progress:
Rust and Cashmier - You bump into your old high school flame. Not much has changed. (Frankie 'Catfish' Morales)
The New Normal - Smut Fluff - Joel and Ellie are on their way to Colorado and Ellie doesn't want to sleep in the cold on her period. A stranger over hears this. (Joel Miller)
Hunting Trips - Soft SMUT - You go 'hunting' with your husband and his friends. The nights are cold and you've got insomnia. (Frankie Morales)
Little Boat - Smut? Fluff - Joel meets someone too young and wild for himself. (Joel Miller)
Soap hires Ghost to help him safely complete challenges across the universe to reunite with his father.
Ghost, a bounty hunter and a Mandalorian, is using this bodyguard/ferryman job as a means to a large bounty on a prolific, and volatile kingpin.
Turns out, Soap's father and the bounty are the same person.
Soap doesn't know about the bounty.
Ghost doesn't know why Soap is so desperate to get to this man.
Messaging people for the first time is so hard. What am I supposed to say? Like, "You seem really odd and your blog intrigues me. Do you want to have philosophical conversations or perhaps talk about fictional characters?" What! Whatever. I will just follow you back and stare at your blog with my big beautiful brown eyes.
Reblog if you're okay with people coming into your DMs with the "you seem really odd and your blog intrigues me, do you want to have philosophical conversations or perhaps talk about fictional characters"
We are not going down the road of "Din Djarin could die in the movie" again.
Guys. Star Wars is NOT going to kill off one of their most popular characters. They'll want to milk that man and his story for as long as possible. He's SAFE!!!
A/N: It's been like 3 years since I really wrote and I'm trying to get back into. So enjoy one of my 54 drafts I never published.
Warnings: Force Sensitive Reader x Din Djarin, unedited, angst, light smut, the helmet stays on. Breeding kink.
Din struck you from the moment you met him all those years ago. Back when you were both too young and too stupid. When Zi'an and his disgusting scoreboard of kills was the most of his problems and yours trying to figure out if you were actually hearing other people's thoughts or if you were crazy. A freshly enlisted New Republic Private that was too meek to be the hero and Galaxie's Baddest Boy with a chip on his not-droid shoulder. The peachfuzz on his lip starting to darken when you started getting called pretty.
A popular senator's daughter tired of cracking under the five-star resturant's happy glows despite suffering families that wander on the ground down below. When Mommy had used her codependency on you because she had no real friends. When she'd hold you in bed, stroked your hair and whisper in your ear that she wished that she could be there more to watch you grow. Then a narcissistic bug would bite her when you finally 'fell asleep' in her arms as she rectified herself with changing the world for you.
But kids don't understand that. Kids just want their moms to love them and protect them. They want the gooey support of kisses and awkward dance recitals. In your 'cute' years - the years ranging from baby face to strapped in a new flightsuit - you'd dream about those whispers like she cradled you in jailing arms and laughed until her head fell off. It would roll around, eyes rolling back as her smile twitches. You'd wake up and sob into coughing fits.
Because you realized something was wrong with you. The base was so loud the first formation you fainted despite the 'silence'. Voices shriek and sigh and crackled around. It was a lot to get used to. You were good with a vibroblade too. Quick enough and quiet enough to sneak up on an imp.
More realistically, your days were filled with reporting on nothing all day and drinking too much at the local bar because people's heads were fucked up. Because the empire was gone now you had to rebuild. Some people oozed with slimy thoughts. Violent little dreams delicately weaving innocent people into fucked up ghosts haunting folks. You were getting ballsy as you figured out you wanted to be ambitious and powerful like your mother. Because you'd simply decided you were going to live off spite.
And then you felt ice. The bite of electric claws running by your spine. Because he commanded attention. He was a void, eating everything up with his rage and pain. He was trained to kill and he had anger and resentment building. He was like jumping into space. A dazzle of burning suns drowning in the black waters of his beautifully dark mind. Because despite his rage he had this ridged respect of life. Sadness cooling him deeply.
You'd gone into the phase where you stopped wearing makeup and cut your hair short and now 'pretty girl' became 'boy'. And he didn't look at you right away. Being in a blaster battle in a bazaar with a local gang. They had a mandalorian. And you came out of it alive after chasing him down alley.
You could feel the burn of air getting knocked out you when he body slammed you into wall. When he tried to knee you in the balls you laughed and gave you the upper hand to take him down.
It didn't work though. He'd had infinitely more hand to hand combat experience and easily pinned you against the wall again. Then demanding you meet him back there tonight if you wanted inside information. Which you did.
And after the long week of planning out how you'd arrest Xian. It would give him guild rites and you could promote. Only he stuck around for a week longer because the ship he'd bought needed breif repairs in order to even get it off the ground.
He liked you. You could feel that, despite the ripple of his uncertain inner storms. And then you'd come back to your bunk to find him there, nervous and instead of his waves battering against you, it was calling for you, whirlpooling you in. You were drowning in the black ocean of his mind.
He needed to touch you. Attracted to your smile and free laughter. Drawn into your haunted expressions and shared sorrow. You drink it all up, sinking into the desperation clawing inside him. Something to fill him for a little while. Someone to comfort him and make him weightless.
So you stripped off your flight suit and he pulled off his gloves and touched. Everywhere. His raspy voice wrecked with his vocoder as he verbalized his desire to kiss you everywhere. Since he couldn't, he'd just touch. His hands were smooth from the gloves, hot and big. He touched you like he was sculpting his muse. Painting you in his mind, swirling in his midnight blue desolation. Painted in Din's mind like you were dawn warming him.
It was more romantic than it had any right being as his fingers kiss your labia, one thick digit curling inside the tight heat of your cunt. He was quick to explore it with you on your back, his other hand exploring your mouth in a similar fashion. You were left in a couple puddles, alone in your bunk, trembling. Your chin and thighs cooling with your drool, slickly leaking over your skin.
And you both grew up. Bumping into each other occasionally when he needed some information on a bounty and you were quick to name your price. Seeking comfort in the soft edges of flesh. He'd map your body with his hands or mouth - if you were blind from him - like it was religious. It made you shiver and quake under him. Everything, like he had to commit to replicating you.
Conversations not usually needed but would occasionally sink into these little secrets you hadn't told anyone else before. Like you mind abilities. He actually really liked after a while. Liked being able to truly express his feelings without words. He had a way of molding you like putty. The two guys before this dull and unexciting to the prayers his hands preformed on your body.
And then he'd gone off grid. Busy two years before emerging to you on some little speeder. But he'd had the kid now. And you much older. Much less cute. Definitely settled and nurturing. Which led to this.
"Fucking Maker!" You cry at the mattress when he slams you on it. Then your scrambling up the pillows with a squeal. Din's hot hands are tightening around you kicking ankles and jerking you effortlessly down your bed on your own ship. You were docked in Tatooine, happy to pay Peli rediculous prices for just a few hours of time alone.
"Running won't stop me." You're dragged until your feet could touch the floor. "I know you." He sighs against your neck. But you feel what he really means. What he's meant for a long time. I love you.
"Wouldn't run from a Mandalorian. That'd be stupid." You tease.. He pins you with his weight.
"What if he means to bred you?" He demands, leaning over you. You go straight dumb for a second. He lifts off you enough to let you roll over to gaze up at his helmet.
You can feel the spinning his words cause. "Really?" You ground yourself by latching into his open mind. The ever vast void of his mind sucking you in like a worm hole. It's a primal need that sinks into his belly. Something deep and brutal.
He holds you in this divine light of stardust. Like he was just a man who fell in love with all of the stars, never done climbing to reach and admire. He would snuff out every other light in the universe - anything polluting your space just to watch you shine.
"Yes. Can I put a baby in you?"
"Are you ready for that? To settle down and raise another kid?" His soul thrills and vibrates at 'another'. He gives a shaky breath as he buzzes with it. He fixates on it hard.
Many. He wants many children.
"Honey, your fixating on the wrong details," you hum, wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling him down on top of your body. He chuckles over you.
"I'll give you everything. No more bounties if that's what you want. Just us." That us carries double meaning. Not just the two or three of you. As many babies as you wanted with him. He would give it to you all of the time.
He was ready.
"Okay," you hum. "Let's have a baby." Din sighs in delight. Not so much relief but in satisfaction. Like you'd granted him a miracle.
The moment so tender with the heavy edges of his mind suffocating you that you don't expect him lifting off you and using a vibro blade to cut the front of your pants wide open. You gasp when he nearly yanks you upright by the front of them and simply slices through the front.
art student!reader x life drawing model!Eddie Munson
E 18+, so nsfw
Words: 7048
read on ao3
find the sequel here
Paint It Black
Summery: You’re frustrated with your latest work and look for distraction by attending the open life drawing class on what looks like a very ordinary Thursday. Eddie, the new model, is everything but ordinary but definitely a distraction.
CW/tags: characters somewhere in their twenties, meet-wild, smut, fluff, some sort of voyeurism/public erection, gets a little rough, unprotected sex, piv penetration, oral for everybody, v fingering, biting, love marks, talky sex, aftercare, art school bullshit, messy sex, artsy sex (I guess), love at first sight (I guess)
A/N: @edsforehead made me do it. (thank you so much)
comments and reblogs are so appreciated
The air is cold, stinging your cheeks as you ride your bike through a clear and crisp winter morning. It does wonders for waking you up and clearing your mind; you had spent way too long in your studio last night, hovering over this painting that just wouldn’t go the way you wanted. Inside your mind, you hoisted it off the wall to place it right in the middle of the room, a bucket of thick black paint in one hand, the other one dipping in until the medium reached your wrist. You drop down to your knees and get to work, blacking the wretched thing out one large swoop of your arm after another, sending hours of work into oblivion.
Oh my, it was so tempting. Your fingertips tickle with the urge to turn your frustration into something wild and rough and… simple.
But your Professor had sworn to make your life very hard if he ever got wind of you destroying one of your works again, so you followed the advice he had given you: You had decided to take a break. Do something different, something simple, something rewarding and easy to clear your mind to recharge your drained batteries.
So it is Thursday and you crawled out of bed after four measly hours of sleep to go to the life drawing class. You are early as always to get one of the good spots. The small auditorium is still empty except for your teacher who is busy untangling the cords of the various space heaters that will keep the model warm for the next hours.
“Ah,” he says as he sees you, “haven’t seen you here in a while.”
“Yeah, been busy wasting paint.” You smile and walk down the steps of the middle aisle and drop your bag on the best chair: first platform, second chair on the right from the aisle. It had the perfect distance and angle and the top of the backrest of first row to put your feet on so you could rest your paper on your thighs and wouldn’t have to struggle through two hours and a half hours of numb feet.
“Good decision to waste some graphite instead today,” your teacher says and grins. “I’m excited to see your progress.”
You hum, unpacking your supplies. “Who’s the model today? Someone familiar?”
“No, actually, I finally could recruit someone new. He should already be here though. Maybe he has difficulties finding us.” The building was old and could be confusing if you never set foot in it before.
“He,” you say, sharpening your pencil. “Guess it’s my lucky day.”
Male models were rare - maybe two out of ten sessions - and you start to get excited about coming in today.
Your teacher climbs up the stairs past you, “I’ll go and see if he’s wandering around somewhere.”
—
The room fills with students; you say your How are you?’s and What are you working on?’s and when the clock shows 9:37, you brace yourself for the session getting cancelled. Just then, the door opens and your teacher hurries down the stairs.
“Good morning everybody. Sorry for the delay, our model got lost in our hallways. Let’s hear: anybody working on something particular and has some requests for poses?”
You crane your neck up to the back of the room towards the overflowing coat rack while your teacher keeps going through the usual procedure.
The model’s back is turned and you see a long black coat being shrugged off of lean shoulders and underneath: more black. Black lines of ink meandering out of the sleeves of a black shirt; a harsh contrast against pale skin. Ringed hands come up to the back of his head to put the long dark wavy hair into a bun.
No! you plead internally, surprised by that strong reaction.
He chooses the far left aisle down, almost disappearing behind the rows of students but your eyes follow him with a burning curiosity as if you wouldn’t get the chance to look at him for hours in a moment. You shake your head and open your sketchbook to do just anything but stare. There was a difference between observing and staring and the latter wasn’t fucking appropriate inside this room.
“Everybody,” your teacher announces, “this is Eddie. Eddie has never done this before so be patient and just let him know if he’s moving too much.”
You look up and grind your teeth. This Eddie is fucking gorgeous.
“Uhm, hi!” he smiles into the room then looks back at your teacher. “So, uh, I just get naked or what?”
Everybody laughs, but you don’t. You’re taking a long slow breath.
“That’s the general idea,” your teacher grins. “You can put your things on that table in the corner and then just come back to this spot.”
But Eddie does not move to the mentioned corner, he simply pulls off his shirt and throws it the distance to the table. More tattoos come to light; all black, no color. He then kicks off his shoes and you watch his fingers as they open his belt and his fly, how they lodge into the hem of his black, frayed jeans and pull them down in one swoop. There are giggles as he throws the bundle, aiming at the table like he’s at the bowling alley, completely naked.
And then you realize, Eddie didn’t wear any underwear.
“The rings too, please.”
“Oh, sure.” He picks them off his fingers; one two three from one hand and one more from the other. Eddie looks at them on his palm for a moment and grins. “Nah, not gonna throw those.”
The class giggles again as Eddie takes two three long strides to the table to put his rings down carefully and prances back, taking his spot in the middle of the small platform surrounded by space heaters.
There is a soft crack coming from your lap and you look down to see that you had pushed your pencil to the paper so hard that you’d broken the tip.
—
It’s as always: a series of short poses to warm up. One minute, then three and up from there.
Except it is not like always. You're flustered, you’re hot and you spend way too long staring, not finishing any of the one-minute poses.
This has never happened to you before and you had been presented with a lot of good-looking people over the years but this guy was something else.
Three-minute poses and Eddie is slouched back in a chair, long legs spread, left arm resting on top of his head, the right one on his thigh. This was sinful. You just corrected the angle of his left thigh for the third time when you look up and find him looking right back at you. No lost glance into the distance over your shoulder, no: your eyes meet. And those eyes are big and dark and curious and he holds the gaze for several seconds before the timer beeps and announces the change of poses.
He’s not only beautiful and scorching hot but also incredibly adorable. He’s giddy between poses, shaking his arms and legs - and with that his cute little ass - bouncing on his toes and you start to think that holding still normally isn’t his forte. When he lies on his belly, soft gaze on the floor, he tries to stifle a yawn once, twice and only lets it out when he’s allowed to move again. You like his dedication.
Five-minute poses and you finally get into the flow; things start to make sense on the paper until you find him looking at you again. And not only that: he mouthes a small 'Hi'. You bite your lip and look down, feeling the looks of some of the students on you.
He’s cross-legged, leaning back, hands braced on the ground behind him. The angle is weird and it doesn’t help that the way his lean, inked chest moves every time he takes a breath makes you want to bite down on those sharp collarbones. You hold your sketchpad in your outstretched arms doing those quick back-and-forth glances to find out where to correct the mess when his eyes move back to you. Every time you meet his gaze makes your spine tingle more and more and you have to bite down on your lip again to not let a fucking noise slip from your mouth.
Ten-minute poses and your teacher has made it to you to give you some feedback. Nothing you hadn’t expected: you go about it too complicated, want to do too much in too little time, too much detail. Eddie is stretched out on his back and smirks towards the ceiling.
On the next round of feedback, he tells you to really look at Eddie’s hips. You get the angle wrong, it throws off the stance, and you know why all your stupid drawings look a little wonky: you try to avoid looking at his cock for too long. You never thought about a penis as a cock before in this class and it drives you up the walls seeing it twitch slightly while your teacher keeps explaining things you already know and you’re forced to stare at Eddie's crotch, knowing he's side-eying you and your flustered expression the whole. Damn. Time.
Eddie gets a brief pause to stretch and have some water and you want revenge. While his back is turned to you - shoulder blades rippling deliciously under his skin - you open the top two buttons of your blouse, sliding the collar off your shoulder.
One final five-minute pose before the session ends with a twenty-fiver and Eddie is crouched down with his knees pulled under his chin. He shuffles a little before he really settles, tilting his head slightly in a way that forces him to look in your direction unless he wants to lower his eyes to the floor for five minutes.
When he finally looks up, you’re waiting for him, head titled yourself exposing the side of your neck down to your shoulder where your bra strap is barely holding onto your skin.
Eddie’s eyes widen and you smile, tongue poking out just a little to lick your bottom lip before you focus on the paper in your lap to roughly map out the pose. You don’t linger on him while you draw, quick glances only, but you can feel his gaze heavy on you.
This sketch is turning out to be the best so far. You lean back a little, biting down on the back of your pencil and start rolling your shoulders. One gets stiff sitting like that for so long, so people stretch all the time and nobody will notice that you’re giving Eddie a little show. You tilt your head to the right and run a hand over the muscles in your neck, massaging the achy spot right beyond your skull for a moment. When you give in to look down at him, you do it from under your lashes, taking the pencil stuck in your mouth between two fingers and let your tongue play with it ever so slightly.
Eddie takes a deep breath; you can see it in the way his shoulders rise and his knees are pressed forward. You grin and he pulls up his brows and you can’t tell if he begs you to stop or go on.
Twenty-five-minute pose and the crowd demands him to stand.
“Twenty-five minutes of standing is ok?” your teacher asks Eddie, who hasn’t jumped up like a spring toy after the timer rang.
“Uhm, yeah,” he says, legs still drawn to his torso. “Sure thing, uh-hn.”
It takes him another beat to push himself up and come to a stand. Your eyes wander from the top of his cheeks, tinted in a pretty pink, down to those hips to find him not exactly half hard, but on a good way to it. You feel your eyes roll up.
Shit.
Your teacher instructs him how to stand, feet wider apart - a little more, perfect - arms crossed over his chest which too is now slightly pink. His biceps’ flex a few times as he waits for more instructions.
“Can you turn a little, to the left?” a guy in the top row asks and Eddie does.
“Like this?”
Like this you get him in a three-quarter-view and your heart is racing; will he look at you again or did you push it too far?
“Anything else?” your teacher asks and you want to bite down on your tongue but instead it’s moving and forming words.
“Can we have the hair down for this last one?”
Eddie’s head snaps up, catching you in the middle of your request. He pinches his eyes shut at the approval of your fellow students. Below the waist, he’s twitching again.
Loosening his hair tie, Eddie musses around in his dark waves with practised fingers until he seems satisfied with what he sees in the mirror across the room. You suppress a moan, breaking the tip of your pencil again. He’s not looking at you, this time choosing to turn down his eyes while his face points in your general direction again. You curse at yourself internally; you should have just gone to him after the session and slipped him your number or asked him if he was busy after this while the both of you were still flooded with whatever this was and—
Shit!
Whatever Eddie is thinking while not looking at you did not help with what was going on in his loins. That pretty cock was getting bigger: half-hard-hello! And judging by his current state, he was big. You involuntarily grind your hips on your chair and drop your pencil in the process. A groan escapes you, sounding much too pleasant for a case of dropped art supplies and you bend down to get it back. When you come up, brown eyes are waiting for you. There is a smile playing around them while his pretty pink lips are slightly pressed together. Thank god he doesn’t look mad or annoyed, only the blush giving away that something was going on.
You can’t help it, you’re biting your lip, eyes wandering between his face and his cock and his brows draw slightly together before he averts his eyes again, breathing a few times: deep and slow.
Deep and slow.
Holy shit you are throbbing and wet and all you can do is fake another stretch and while shuffling around, press your thighs together for a little bit of friction. You tilt your hips down slightly and the sensation is so good and welcome that your eyes pinch close and your back arches. The movement is jerkily and you stretch your arms over your head to conceal it, slowly opening your eyes again.
Eddie is watching. Eddie is hard.
You grab your pencil and start drawing the spectacle in front of you; concentration isn’t the right word for the sharp focus that settles over you. It’s fucking lust.
It’s not the first hard-on you’ve seen in this class, not by any means. It happens now and then and usually a slight blush from the model was the only reaction. But this wasn’t any hard dick: you did this. You did this to this gorgeous man and you wanted to capture this with your own hands. In case he just bolted right after the session, you would have something to remember this.
You’re leaning in, literally, sketch pad balancing on your knees and bent over your thighs you almost forget the additional loosened buttons on your blouse until you catch those eyes directed at your chest. Seems like Eddie figured the damage was done anyway so why hold back now?
And fucking hell was that precum glistening at the tip?
This is when the timer starts announcing the end of class.
Eddie shoots you one final look, a sharp grin, a slight shake of the head, tips of his hair tickling his shoulders and hops off his little platform to get dressed.
“Holy shit,” says the guy next to you, leaning over. “Have you seen that dick?”
You huff a laugh that throbs in your pussy. “Hard to overlook.”
“Exactly,” he groans and picks up his things.
—
You look at drawings of Eddie of all kinds. They are all beautiful, even the bad ones. You rub your forehead catching that corny thought and look across the room where Eddie is talking to two people, gesturing to the drawings on the floor, laughing. The two of you are slowly moving towards each other. The journey consists of looking, talking: This is a good one! and That one is crap, right? and glancing to your right. You reach the row with your own stuff, groaning internally at how very off everything looks, everything but two.
Suddenly, a chest presses to your back and an arm sneaks past you to point at a drawing.
“That’s amazing.”
The explosion in your insides barely travels to your voice and you’re impressed with yourself. He even smells amazing. “Thank you.”
“Oh, that’s one of yours then?”
You turn to face him. The smile on his face is obscene.
“Hi.”
“Hi, Eddie.”
The smile shrinks a little and his nostrils flare with the air he pulls in. His voice is low and deep when he speaks. “You… uh, made that a very hard job to do.”
“I’m almost sorry,” you croon. His face is way too close; one uptilt of your head and you could bite his plush bottom lip.
“Don’t be,” he licks the spot you just imagined nibbling on. “I didn’t start it for nothing.”
You both jump when someone hijacks your moment. “Those detailed studies are really nice.”
“Yeah, right?” Eddie says with genuine enthusiasm. “Almost the only ones who got some of my tattoos…”
“Uhg, tattoos are hard in that short time, man and you know, not really anatomy.”
The exchange goes back and forth a little longer until Eddie loops his arm under yours and not so causally pulls you in the direction you’d come from under the disguise of looking at sketches.
“So, uh, what are you doing, like, right after this?”
“You, I hope.”
“Shit…” he shakes his head, hair falling into his face. “You’re killing me already… where do you want to go?”
You think about this for a moment, greedy and soaking through your panties you’re in no mood to wait much longer to have him naked again.
“I have a studio two corridors down…”
His brows shoot up. “You ahm…” he blurts out, then lowers his voice, “want to do me here at school?”
“Yes, Eddie… like the pretty little muse you are.”
—
His hand is warm in yours as you pull him along behind you through the hallway past your fellow students who throw curious glances over their shoulders.
Eddie catches up to your side and leans close to your ear, “Are you already wet for me? The way you moved on that chair…”
“Drenched,” you breathe against his neck and almost stumble over your own feet. Eddie sneaks his arm around you, keeping you steady.
“Easy, sweetheart. Let me be the one to bruise you, ok? I’ll do it in aaall the nice places.”
You stare at him, mouth hanging open.
“Promise,” he adds, tapping the tip of your nose, a devilish smile spreading on his face.
You drag him on and he laughs behind you until he catches up again. There is a brief moment where you leave him in the middle of the empty foyer to get your key from the doorman, interrupting his lunch break, praying to whoever deity will listen to your horny call that none of your studio mates is in there already. You almost moan when the guy hands the key to you and you bump into Eddie’s chest face first when you turn around in a hurry.
“Fuck you’re so pretty,” he rasps, takes your face in his large hands and bends down to press a hot kiss to your mouth. Your fists close around the lapel of his coat as he licks along your teeth until your tongue finds him. The world around you feels vague and unimportant until the doorman behind you knocks against the glass of his booth.
“I don’t need to see this, folks.”
This time Eddie takes your hand and walks on. “Show me the way, babe, or I’ll have to hoist you up one of those windowsills… you people are doing performance art here, right?”
Eddie is mumbling filthy things at you the whole way down the empty corridor where your shared studio is the last room on the left. You try to fumble the key into the lock and drop it because Eddie is already busy bruising your neck. Pressed flat to your back he brushed your hair to the side and started sucking at the spot just below your ear, his hands sneaking around you, cupping your tits through your blouse. As you bend down to pick up the key, Eddie grabs your hips and rolls his own against you, almost pushing you into the door. You both laugh and he pulls you up by your waist.
“Sorry,” he chuckles as you finally unlock the door. “I couldn’t help myself.”
You let him inside and lock the door behind you.
“What’s your workspace?” he asks, already poking his nose into things. “No! Don’t tell me… it’s… this one.”
“How did you know?” you ask surprised, taking off your coat and fully unbuttoning your blouse while he looks at your work lined up on the wall, hand on his chin like a proper little art critic.
“Well, I saw your drawings and this stuff here… it has the same… Duktus?”
“Christ,” you moan and he looks at you. “That was so sexy.”
“Hey, you’re starting without me?”
Eddie rushes to you, hands instantly sliding inside your open blouse against your bare skin. His hands are rough, calloused in some places and the slight scratch is making you shiver in his arms. He pulls the fabric off of you and drops it to the ground. His coat falls next, then his shirt. Eddie hisses as you sink your teeth into his collarbone as soon as you have access to them.
“Too much?”
His eyes are lidded and so very dark as he shakes his head. “Just start pulling my hair too and you’ll never get rid of me again…”
“That a threat or another promise?” you purr as you open his belt and fly over the impressive bulge in his pants.
“Which one turns you on more?” You hook your fingers into his waistband and drop to your knees, pulling his pants down with you, making his breath hitch. “Oh, s-shit…”
This is the close-up you've been yearning for all morning. Fully hard and flushed a deep pink already; you wonder if it will feel as heavy on your tongue as it looks. You run a finger along the underside and it twitches again, bobbing up and down in front of your face. You lean in, stick out your tongue and give the swollen tip a lick that makes Eddie whimper above you.
Again you meet his eyes and the expression in them is so unexpectedly soft that you almost whimper too. Your cunt is clenching around horrible nothingness as you lick him again, flat tongue sliding along the underside, feeling a vein, tasting salt, watching those big brown eyes roll up and close as a moan escapes him.
“You’re gorgeous, holy shit.” You firmly grip his cock around the base and stroke him a few times, your mouth watering, before you close your lips around the tip, your tongue swirling in lazy circles around it. Eddie’s breath is uneven and laced with soft moans from his glistening parted lips while you softly play around with his cock. Every twitch of his face is a delight, the way his abdomen tenses when you press small kisses to the length of his shaft makes you swoon with adoration. You reach up one hand to trace up the lines of a tattoo on his ribcage and he catches it, pressing it flat against his chest. Eddie’s heartbeat pounds against your palm and you moan around his cock.
“Holy… fuck… I wanna watch you so bad but I don’t know if I can take it.”
“You can take it, big boy,” you say in a low voice. “Look at me.”
It takes him a few more seconds until he opens his eyes and looks down at you; the moment you lock eyes you take him down as far as you can. A string of loud but mostly intangible curses echoes through the large room as you suck him down again and again in long leisurely motions. Your lips stretched around his girth curl up into a smile when his hands look for something to hold onto in your hair and you place your index finger at the corner of your mouth without stopping your onslaught to signal him to keep the volume down.
“Sorry, ah fuck fuck FUCK… I’ll try… shit I’m balls deep in your mouth and still don’t know your name—”
You don’t want to stop, not even for the moment to tell him your name. There’s a big portfolio folder leaning against the wall and you point in the general direction before running your fingers through the dark curls around his base and up the trail to his stomach while he’s trying to figure out what you’re showing him, failing at his attempt to stay quiet.
Then he says it: your name, no, he moans it. And he doesn’t fucking stop.
Suddenly your abdomen is on fire and you have to pull back to catch your breath. But you can’t, not really, because Eddie has kicked off his pants the rest of the way, dropped to the floor and pushed you to your back to peel you out of your clothes.
The floor is cold under your ass and back and you thump your head a little as he wraps his arms around your thighs and pulls you closer to him.
“Shit, you okay?”
“Yeah,” you giggle, “keep manhandling me.”
Eddie grins like the devil himself and goes to work. He’s everywhere: kissing, lapping biting at your mouth, your jaw your neck your tits, his fingers pushed into your thighs and you know it will bruise. He’s keeping his promise, leaving wet tingling marks all over you, a purple trail of small galaxies. His fingers find your cunt, finally, and Eddie eats the moan out of your mouth.
“Shh,” he says with a cocky laugh, his forehead pressed to yours, two fingers circling your clit in dragging motions. “You’re loud, beautiful. You don’t want us to get caught before I had a chance to fuck you.”
“N-no… ahhh.” Two thick fingers slide into you and your muscles grip down hard at the sudden intrusion.
“Hi,” he grins down at you as if he wasn’t just pounding your g-spot out of nowhere and making you see stars.
You hold on to his face, grappling for purchase and finally wind your fingers into this wild tickling hair and pull.
“Jesus, finally!”
“I— I’m so close.”
“Keep holding on,” he groans and moves down your body, fingers stilling for a moment.
You keep your hands in his hair, pulling in frustration from the ebbing pleasure.
“Of course, you have the prettiest fucking pussy, you—“ he doesn’t finish his thought, diving in with his tongue to lap at your clit like he’d been starving for you his whole life.
You bite the back of your hand to keep from yelling out at the sight alone. His eyes meet yours, of course they do and he sucks one of your lips into his mouth.
“You’re a fucking tease, Eddie… what’s your last name?”
“Munson,” he mumbles against your core and keeps on feasting.
“You’re a fucking tease, Eddie Munson… ahhh don’t stop please.”
And he doesn’t. He gives you his fingers and his mouth, his eyes fixed on you— well, most of the time, he keeps looking to a spot behind you but you have no time to inquire as your legs start to tremble and everything inside you starts to tense and pulse and you’re coming apart under his mouth before you’ve really seen it coming.
Yeah, that guy was something else.
When you’ve come down he gently pulls his fingers from you and litters your thighs and belly with kisses. His fingers are sticky against your skin but a slight roughness remains.
Your head lolls against the floor while you’re still blissed out and Eddie still puts those feathery kisses to your skin.
“You… you’re a musician…” you drawl out.
He looks up. “Yeah! How do you know?”
You take his hand from your chest and lick your wetness from his fingers before you turn his palm to him, sliding a fingertip over the calloused skin.
“You like that?” he grins.
You let go of his hand and nod. “Something with strings?”
“Guitar. And vocals.”
“Fuck you, you’re way too hot as it is…” you squeeze him with your thighs and his eyes go to that spot behind you again before he kisses your chest.
“What do you keep looking at?” you wiggle and crane your neck. It’s that painting. The one that has been haunting you for weeks.
“Sorry,” he scrunches up his nose. “I don’t know, draws me in somehow… it’s… weird… sorry.”
“No, no, don’t be…” you say and pull him up to you, kissing him. “You’re right.”
“Yeah?” he glances over again. “Well, fuck… yeah… m’ not gonna lie to you it’s kinda terrifying.” You both laugh. The warmth in your chest only expands more.
“Want to slather me in paint and fuck me against it?”
Eddie’s eyes widen as he glances between your face and the canvas. “Yes? Fuck yes!”
He pulls you up and into a hungry kiss, his thick cock hard against your belly.
“Is that stuff safe to use?” he points his chin to some paint tubes on the trolley in the corner.
“No, oh god, no. But…” you leave him to look for a large bottle of black paint letting out a triumphant ha when you find it. You turn around beaming. “This here is… and will wash out of hair with no problem.”
“Come here…” he curls his finger to beckon you to him. “And hand that over.”
“Is that turning you on?” you ask as you join him.
“You have no idea.” Eddie takes the paint from you and wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling your back to his chest. “You’re so pretty already with all my marks on you.” He walks you over to the canvas that way, his lips pressed close to your ear.
You turn in his arm and reach for his cock, stroking him softly. “How do you want me?”
“Fuck if I know… gimme a second and don’t stop that.” He looks at the canvas, really thinking about this. You suddenly want to pull his hair again. “Hands above your head, babe,” he says, opening the bottle of paint and squirts a generous amount into his hand. “Keep them clean. You have to put me inside you.”
You lean against the canvas; it’s large, so large that your outstretched arms above your head just graze the wooden frame inside.
Eddie’s hands are dripping black paint as he grabs your hips, bends down and sucks your nipple into his mouth before he kisses up to the crook of your shoulder to suck on you once more. “One last one before I make a mess out of you.” The contrast between the warmth of his lips and the cool paint as he slides his hands up your sides to your ribs makes you squirm and whimper. Eddie steps back to look at his work.
“Fuck, I’m an artist.”
He grabs the bottle from the floor and gets more paint, letting it drip right to your tits before smudging with splayed fingers. You watch him, mesmerized. When he is satisfied, he spins you around and pats your thigh as a sign to widen your stance. You feel him shuffle behind you as he presses himself against you and your chest against the canvas.
“Ready?”
You reach down, fumbling in the air for a moment before you find him. “You ready?”
“Ye—ahhhh, you little minx,” he groans as you line him up and push back on him half the way. He holds you steady and slides in the rest of the way breathing out a long low fuuuuck. Then he stills. “Are you holding your breath? You ok?”
You are more than ok and you let the air out, your forehead dropping against the canvas. “It was that or letting everybody in the building know I’m getting stretched real fucking good right now…”
He angles your hips back and pushes closer. “Yeah, you are… shit, you’re unreal.”
“And you’re big. Gimme a moment.”
“All the time you want, I’m cosy here.”
While you get used to the stretch, Eddie caresses your back, rubbing small circles up the sides of your spine.
“I have a show next Tuesday,” he says kissing your shoulder. “Would love to see you in the first row.”
“Wouldn’t miss it… I assume it’s something hard?” you wiggle your ass, making you both sigh.
“You like it hard?” he laughs. “Music, I mean.”
“I do.”
“’Course you do. Can I fuck you now? Please?”
“Yeah,” you sigh. “Before the paint dries.”
He starts slow, pulling out almost all the way and sliding back in till he bottoms out. Your front slides against the canvas blackening out parts of it in big splotches.
“How’s this?” He’s so careful it makes your throat feel tight.
“You feel in-incredible.” You push back, meeting his thrusts as he picks up the pace.
“You’re incredible, sweetheart.”
Then you’re just getting lost in each other. His movements get rougher, more confident as he thrusts into you. You feel him deep inside you lighting little fires everywhere. A hand presses to the canvas next to your head, an arm loops around your waist and you yelp as he sharply slams into you. You beg him to do it again but he’s already on it, relentlessly fucking you into the canvas. Most of the paint is dry now, it’s prickling on your skin. Eddie moans your name into your ear, squeezing your tits and you squeeze your muscles around his cock.
“Shhh, babe…” you chuckle after he cries out.
“Fuck you,” he laughs hoarsely into your hair.
You’re so close again and you slip your hand between your legs but Eddie stops and pulls your arm to your back. “No nono, shit, not-not like that…”
“Eddie…”
“Stay like that,” he says and pulls out of you, leaving you empty and confused. There is some shuffling and then he is back behind you. “Going to be cold.”
“What— uhn!”
Paint trickles onto your arched back, sliding down your spine and making you shiver. Eddie gives your ass a little smack and turns you around, crowding you against the canvas, and hoists you up by your thighs.
“Oh my god,” you huff, wrapping your arms around his neck while he balances you out.
“Can’t do that all day but you’re close ‘n I wanna see that face when you come.” He leans you back to create some space between you. “Help me out, put me back inside you…”
You do as you’re told and you clench your thighs hard around his hips as he starts up almost at the same pace he stopped. He kisses you, so sloppy so wet you feel a string of spit between your mouths when he pulls back again to hook his arms under your knees and spreads you open so wide that you’re crying out his name.
“I got you,” he assures you, pounding into you at a new angle, so deep it makes you dizzy. “I got you, you can juuust fall apart…”
The noises you two are making where you’re joined are obscene.
“Holy shit,” you moan, “li-listen… those sounds.”
Eddie drops his head to your shoulder, sweat dripping from his forehead onto you. “Like fucking music…”
You laugh. “Fucking music indeed.”
“God, you’re perfect,” he presses out through a laugh and really leans into you. You grab a thick strand of hair and pull as your insides begin to tense.
“Oh… oh shit, don’t stop.”
The world tilts as he leans you back again. “Wouldn’t dare… touch yourself for me, I need to feel you come around me.”
“Come inside me, yeah?” you rasp as you circle your swollen throbbing clit.
His eyes bore into yours, the strain and pleasure all over his face. He’s a mess as much as you are. “Come on, darling… come for me… I want you to run through my fingers.”
And you swear you do: your head thumps against the wood frame as your muscles try to create a black hole or whatever happens under so much pressure, but who cares when this stupidly perfect man fucks you through the hardest orgasm anyone ever had while looking at you like he was fulfilling his fucking destiny. You can’t hear him over the blood rushing through your ears, but he looks so pretty with his nose scrunched up, a streak of black paint running over the bridge and his eyes shut tight. A few more thrusts and he collapses against your chest with stuttering hips, pinning you so hard against the wall that it drives the air out of you.
There is only breathing, hot air from his lungs against your tickling skin. You cup the back of his head and stroke his hair; he nuzzles deeper into your skin and makes a noise that sounds like fucking home.
“I need to put you down now… sorry.”
He puts you down but doesn’t let go. Kisses cover your face until you cup his cheeks and claim his mouth while he’s dripping down the inside of your thighs.
Then you giggle together, Eddie squeezing your ass with both hands, smiling at you so silly and soft. You’re thirsty, you let him have the bottle first and he gulps the water down, spilling down his chest, creating little rivers of paint that let the ink show through. You want to study those lines up close without twenty people around you, without the blinding fire of lust, but calm, taking your time asking questions.
“What’s going on up there?” he asks, tapping a finger against your forehead.
“I wanna study you some more,” you say, taking the bottle and down what’s left.
He doesn’t ask you what you mean, only tilts his head and smiles. Then he sits down in that worn-out armchair your mate had dragged in a few months ago, still naked, it isn’t time to cover up yet and you find a clean enough rag, climb into his lap and clean the paint off his face as gently as you can.
“Stop,” he grabs your hips, “do you have a camera or something?”
You do and the timer takes too long for you two not to start fooling around before the soft click of the shutter sounds. One more and one more and the film has only two more left and he pulls you in to kiss you just before the camera rewinds.
“You want to join me when I make the prints?”
“You, red light and chemicals?” he grins. “It’s a date.”
The painting is dry already; Guache dries rather fast, you explain to him. It’s itchy, he adds and scratches his chest, small flakes of black falling down to the floor. You sit in front of both your work, your head against his shoulder and your fingers fumbling with a strand of his hair that is stiff with paint.
“You know,” he says, “it would have made a damn good record cover before…”
“You can have a picture… I document every night before I go home.”
“Really? I mean, the picture?”
You brush sweaty hair off his forehead, “I’m sure it’s in good hands with you.”
He almost shoves you over when he kisses you, the giddy streak you saw earlier during class showing when he chuckles and licks your cheek like a puppy.
“It looks really good now though, don’t you think?”
“You’re just horny,” you laugh.
“What? You don’t like our work?” he pouts and this shouldn’t pull at your heart that much.
“I do,” you kiss the pout, “I was just teasing.”
“I mean it,” he looks at the canvas, “It’s a bit crooked and dented now, but that just adds to the charm.”
“It has nothing on you though when it comes to charm.” You lean in with a sultry smile and his palm cups your breast and then—
A knock on the door. “Come on, you still fucking in there? I need to work.”
You look at each other with large eyes and break out laughing, scrambling for your clothes. Eddie hisses sharply when you slap his ass just before he pulls up his jeans and you forgo the bra because one strap did not survive Eddie’s enthusiasm. There is paint sticking out of his collar that you couldn’t clean before your photo shoot and you remember to put the film in your pocket while he kisses your temple because he seems to can’t help himself but stay close to you.
“Ready?” you ask and he grabs your hand and nods, following you out.
“Finally,” your mate says, but smiles when she sees you. “Aren’t you that new model?”
“Muse,” he grins without further explanation.
You hand her the key, mouth a small sorry and admit it when she calls you out on your lie.
His hand is warm in yours, his thumb playing with your knuckles as you walk back through the hallway.
“So,” he says, “we gonna shower at your or my place?”
Literally all I want is 15 seasons of Din and Grogu getting dragged into side quests while bounty hunting and Grogu getting mandalorian training in the side. That's it. Give us one episode a season of helmetless Din. I'm a simple woman.
Okay wait I need to know. What would Din Djarin/Paz Vizsla/Boba Fett’s reactions to riduur in lingerie be 👀
A Mandalorian being soft and horny for their S/O in lingerie is something that can be so personal
Boba Fett
Green
It's fucking green, of course
Strappy too, little bands criss-crossing over your curves, hugging your hips, your tits, your thighs
You call to him from your bathroom together in the palace, the one attached to his suite, pausing coquettishly in the doorway as he looks up and stares
He doesn't speak, not at first, but he does blink a few times as a pleased, knowing smile spreads over his lips
"Come closer, little one." He beckons, putting aside the armor he had been tending to, spreading his thighs and inviting you to stand between them
You pace over, feigning shyness, swaying your hips in a canting little walk that has him chuckle before you pause between his legs
His hands cup your ass, and you stand on your toes a little with a gasp, smirking knowingly down at him, hands resting on his shoulders
"and where did you get the funds for this, hmm?" He asks, and snaps one of the bands against your flesh, making you stifle a grinning little yelp
"I...may have borrowed some cash from your account." You tell him cheekily, and Boba raises an eyebrow up at you, his pleased eyes betraying him as he attempts to glower in disapproval
"So it belongs to me, then." He muses, and you do gasp this time when his hands squeeze on your ass, imprinting his fingers there.
"So I shall be the one taking it off."
You don't have time to protest, because he secures his arms around you, topples with you back against silk sheets
Paz Vizsla
He's dumbfounded
You can tell, even with his helmet on. The way Paz freezes when he sees you without your armor, dressed in floaty, gauzy teal underwear tells you everything to know about the expression on his face
It's quickly pushed aside, however, as he stands, uses three long strides to cross the room to where you stand. Your warrior stalks towards you like you perhaps might duck under his grasp, might try and flee
You don't, of course. There's no way you would. Your Paz is safety, warmth, shelter, a bastion of protection that you lay your affections into ceaselessly.
His hands outstretch to you, take the silky, draped fabric between his gloved fingers and holds it aloft as if to examine it. Entirely foreign, unexpected for a man of his resolve and brutal efficiency. Yet endearingly gentle with you as he asks:
"All this...for me?"
You beam up at him, hearing the touch of tenderness, of want in his voice, shifting on your feet so you splay your bare hand flat against his chest plate
"Just for you, Riduur." You purr, balancing on your toes as you stretch up to bestow a chaste little kiss on his Ka'rta, the iron heart where his soul lays.
When he growls, the sound is warm but possessive, shivering through your exposed skin as his hand drops, curls suggestively against the roundness of your hip.
"I think I like you better out of armor" He rumbles, and your eyes dance as you stare up through his visor.
"I think I like you that way too"
The hand at your hip flexes, drags you closer to him so you're pressed flush against his form
"The come and take it off, Riduur."
Din Djarin
It hadn't been the color you originally hoped for, but the options in the Nevarro market had been sparse, so you had to make do
You frown in front of the mirror, fingering the white, delicate, lacy material of the chemise. It's too girlish, you think. Too...virginal. Maybe he'll think it looks silly
You yelp when he knocks on the door of the bathroom behind you, surprise ringing out before you can stop it. Worry instantly colors his voice when he calls out for you, and in your rush to reassure him you knock over a clatter of items from the sink
He opens the door before you an stop him, as you lean back and look up at him nervously
Din freezes, halfway inside, one hand still on the door control.
"What-" He tries, voice tight, strained. "What are you wearing?"
He doesn't like it, you think, and your chin falls to your chest
"I thought...I'd surprise you." You tell him lamely, and for a moment he doesn't move, doesn't breathe.
He moves forward at last, crowds you back into the sink, wedges a beskar clad thigh between yours, lifts your chin to his stare
"You look...really nice." Din manages at last, and for some reason your fearsome bounty hunter sounds shy.
"Really?" You mumble, and Din gives you a tight, quick nod as he swallows.
"Can you take it off?" He asks then. "I want to see you."
You shiver at that, at the clear indication in his voice, but retain enough wherewithal to pout at him.
"I literally just got it on." You whine, and something changes in Din's gaze at that, a subtle shift of his head so the lights of the room don't dance across his visor, darkening his stare. His body shifts, presses closer to you, cold radiating from his armor as his voice dips low in your ear.
There’s something horrifyingly beautiful about Tess’s final moments. In the midst of the most dire chaos, as she waits for her death to come rushing past so she can blow it sky high and give cordyceps a big fuck you one last time, one of the infected stops. It looks at her, really looks. Her own mortality is personified in this infected. It’s death that’s looking at her, and it sees her. She looks her own death in the eye, and the suspense is so high as it approaches. But then, it doesn’t bite her throat out like we all expect it to.
It kisses her. What’s more, it kisses her gently. And I think it was a brilliant choice on the writers part, because it reminded me that the infected aren’t supposed to be evil. Sure, they’re scary as hell, but really, they’re just trying to survive. They’re connected to one another, they can feel each other from miles away. They seek out and want to be close to their own kind, just like the human survivors do. And when they do find each other, they kiss hello.
And after so long apart from a loved one, someone you know and trust with every instinct in your body, wouldn’t you want to kiss them too?
Summary: Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh… Porn with plot…. but most of the plot has happened. You and your betrothed play a game…
A/N: YOU ARE MOST WELCOME FOR THE SMUT! THE TIME HAS COME! *insert burning elmo gif* Sorry it took so long. Its been a weird week, might be a vampire… Sorry, I don’t have the patience to edit this on today.
Warnings: SMUT
You sink down next to Din on the cot. The last couple weeks hectic leaving barely any room for conversations about Mandalorians and betrothals. Finally, you both were returned to hyperspace and the kid was now fast asleep.
Din was crabby. In fact you both were pretty irritated today. The cause of his was separate from yours, however. You were basically stranded on a habitable 'backwater planet' with lovely blue vegetation only he could figure out what was causing the engine to misfire.
Din was a lot of things. An actual mechanic was not one of them.
Granted he knew his way around most of his ship. That came with having it destroyed so often. It had been three days since he essentially had his tantrum and dropped you both down. He refused to allow you to actually take a look at it and that was part of where your irritability came from.
You've watched him spend three stubborn days missing the chunk of rock lodged in one of the thrusters. You're petty. He's been agitated ever since it happened and he'd been rude to you ever since Nevarro, three bounties ago. Everything had gone wrong since.
You'd offered your assistance and he'd snapped at you. Insisted on casting them in himself and leaving you alone on the ship with the kid. It was making you stir crazy.
He'll at first you even made sure to fix nicer meals and try to cut him some slack but it was like Din was determined to be miserable this go round and you were done with it. Already determined to take leave the moment you hit Nevarro. You needed space from him or you'd go mad.
He was pushy and snappy and refused to listen which after attempt after attempt after attempt you refused to give an inch.
"Dank farrik!" He finally shouts, whipping a tool off to the side of the cockpit. His cussing up a storm up there when he shouts your name in frustration followed by an order. An order! "Get me the fucking circuit breaker!"
Your response is immediate, furious and stupid. "GET IT YOURSELF, YOU RAGE RANCOR!" The kids ears tuck back.
You're met with silence for a moment. Then it's followed by Din's distinct stomping. Trying to suppress the adrenaline dump you just got from it. He stomps right up next to where your stirring a freshly made pot of soup you were brewing for Grogu who was tucking behind you in terror.
"The hell did you just say?" You don't even look at him. Unable to bear your rage on his silver impassive visor right now.
"I said 'get it yourself'. Since you don't want my help, I'll stay out of your way."
"You're joking."
"Does it look like it?" You snap.
"What am I even paying you for?" He scoffs loudly and you jump to your feet.
"What are you paying me for? It's sure as hell isn't enough to put up with your prickly banthashit! I'm not putting up with it so shove that ridiculous attitude up your ass."
"I'm trying to get us back into hyperspace, maybe if you helped-" you snap your face inches from his.
"You want my fucking help?" You snarl lowly. He's quiet with that. "Are you done with your little temper tantrum? Hm? Fine. But you're flying back to Nevarro and I'm taking leave." Din scoffs a second time and your blinding rage causes you to lash out. His head reels back as your forehead connects with his visor. You hear the stunned noise leave him and the adrenaline floods your blood, dulling the pain you'll be feeling from that as you press the button to open the gang plank.
Switching the heating element off on the kid's food you stop down to grates and you hear Din follow. He's calling out your name in a softer tone than before. You ignore him, instead reaching for the first branch of the tree near the crest.
"Cyare, what are you doing?"
"Don't fucking call me that, right now." You snap back, dragging yourself effectively up the branches until your high enough to jump onto the top of the Razor Crest. You've been parked here so long then top is covered in loose foliage. The durasteel clangs with every step you make towards the first engine. You pick up a hefty branch. Din watches from the ground as you pry and climb in. When the rock pops put, you do too.
It's silent as you make your way back down. He's waiting at the base of the tree for you.
"Did you know about that the whole time?" He rumbles, fury lacing his tone.
"About an hour after we landed I found it." You tell him.
"You didn't tell me? I've been busting the fucking cockpit apart for three days!"
"I tried to tell you! You told me to leave you alone!" You snap. "So I left it!"
"You always have to make things harder, don't you?" That one hurt. It was like a vibroblade to the core. You bite your cheek as you mull that line over. Fully aware that emotions are running high. You turn, heading the opposite direction of the ship.
"I quit. Fuck you."
"You quit? How are you getting back?"
"I don't even fucking care right now."
"Get back on the ship!" You don't even warrant him a response, just keep trekking into the brush. He calls your name again. "I will leave without you!" He threatens. Still no response. "Final call! GET YOUR ASS BACK ON THE DAMN SHIP!"
"MAKE ME!" You finally shout back. You've got about five seconds of silence until you hear the thumbing of his footsteps. You spare a shocked glance to see the Mandalorian sprinting at you head on.
You take off now too as his approach is coming much quicker now. A bolt of fear is fueling it as you duck and dive through the brush ahead of you. He's gaining on you still. You can hear it. Is this what if felt like to be hunted by him? It's terrible.
You make it another fifty yards before he slams into your back, dropping you both to the ground. "Get off me, you crazy bastard!" You shout as he lifts off you. Your eyes blaze up at him.
"Ship. Now." You sling a fist full of dirt at him, knowing it does nothing but give you a nasty feeling under your hands.
"Get fucked."
Din snatches your wrist to yank you off the ground but in your rage you twist and yank. It makes the joints in your hand shriek. "Are you kidding me?"
"Stop being so mean to me!" You shout, fighting the hot tears bubbling up in your eyes. When he doesn't relent you dig your heels into the ground and hoist. He immediately let's you go, making you fall back. The moment you try to climb back up he's reaching for your ankle. You kick out at him.
"Quit it!"
"No!" Your voice cracks with it but he doesn't relent. He snags your ankles up when you try a second time and yanks the back of your legs against him. You lock your feet behind the back of his head, refusing to allow him to stand to his full height. He adjusts his hold, wrapping his arms tightly around you legs, he lifts.
Your eyes widen as he clears you off the ground completely. "Don't you-" you grunt when he swings you down ward. It doesn't hurt. If anything you can tell he's actively trying to not hurt you. You're too pissed off though and this take three attempts before your ankles give and you stay on the ground.
"Ship," he pants out.
"No."
He drops to his knees and you feel the first streak of hot tears leave you. You push your knees against the beskar of his chest when he reaches for you, ready to haul you up across his shoulders as you've seen him do before.
He hooks his hands behind your knees and effortlessly flips you backwards. You roll over your shoulders with a shocked squeal. When you hit yours stomach you try to push off the ground but he jerks your arms out from in front of you and you eat dirt. He drags you upwards, towards him as you wiggle and struggle away.
You're jerked into him, flush so your glaring through blurry eyes at his helmet.
"Are you done yet?" He pants. It flares the fires of your rage. So as he stands, dragging you up with him, you wrap around him, hooking your ankles. "What are you-ngh!" He grunts when you flex and squeeze as hard as you can. Your muscular legs tightening around his middle. "Damn it!" He manages to wheeze as you squeeze the breath out of him.
Back to the ground you go. This time he drops on top of you.
"Ship." He repeats, groaning out as he tries to pry your legs back. Much to your surprise, he's actually able to pry them open only this time you go lax and pant beneath him, utterly exhausted already.
That's when you notice.
"Are you hard?" You demand, flabbergasted at the rock solid mass pressing right up against your cunt. You hate that it makes you throb. He pants above you for a moment. "Maker, are you serious right now, Din?" You slap his helmet, wanting to be irritated but deep down its chilled you out.
Mostly due to the fact that you bastard of a mandalorian employer has a raging erection from pinning you to the ground. It rips the rage out of you violently and your left with the emptiness of your hunger for him. There's still buzzing energy filling you, you're not quite ready to fold yet. It drives your anger for him right out of your body, leaving a hollowness.
"You're not quitting," he insists, hold loosening on the crook of your leg as your entire body goes slack. Only then he's reaching for your arms, pinning those down with you. His whole body sinking yours into the dampened earth below you both, his thumbs stroke on your arms.
You still have adrenaline pumping through you, you're still humming with life. Deep down you know you're not quitting. You were both running your mouths with high emotions. That being said you wanted to exhaust yourself.
"Fine." When you relent he sighs in relief, dropping his helmet down and you can feel his body shake with his uneven breathing.
You've rested for a moment, so you easily slip out from under his hands, your own burying between the two of you. He grunts and lifts off you when you begin tugging at his flight suit, jerking the front of it open.
Din sits up long enough to completely jerk your pants and underwear down to your knees, your boots stop them there. "For fucks sake," he grunts and you gasp when he flips you over without any difficultly.
The both of you are shedding clothes and plucking at skin like you've done this before. Like this happens once a week. Fuck, you think, if this is fighting with Din you ought to do it more often.
He shoves you hips up into the air when his gloves come off and you face down in overgrown grass. A wild cry rips from your mouth as two thick fingers slowly breech you open.
"Stars, you're fucking wet."
You can hear it. The slick, sloppiness of his fingers drawing back followed by another slow plunge, allowing him to listen and watch.
You can feel it, too. You feel swollen, hungry for anything more. Ready so suck in something to stretch you.
"Just fuck me," you whine.
"It'll hurt if I don't stretch you first."
"Please, I need it." He groans with that. You can feel him line up with you. His shadow blankets you as he blocks you from the setting sun. It makes him feel enormous as he notches the head of his cock on the rim of you.
You both gasp out as he sinks down to the hilt with minimal resistance. "Holy fuck, your big," you gasp.
He responds with his hips, drawing back slowly before pushing himself back into the end of you. When Din whines you lose it, drawing off the appendage he's spearing you with. A sob breaks through the air. "Please, Din, more. I need it. I need more, please, please." His fingers dig into your hips and you don't get the opportunity to beg more.
Suddenly he's fucking you. He's ramming into you repeatedly, crushing you with his weight. Din is splitting you apart exactly how you need it. He's groaning behind you, rutting like a wild animal and you have to hold as still as possible so he doesn't knock you flat. Holding yourself, resisting his battering.
You're not one to come easily but there's a rapidly growing need filling you up. A coil that's tightening below. "Oh, fuck, oh, fuck, oh fuu-uuck."
"Shit, that's so tight. Are you-?"
"Ah! Coming!" You cry out as it hits and sob into the air as the damn breaks. He groans around your sobbing cunt cursing as you fucking spray for the first time. You're screaming through it. It's blinding pleasure, making you feel like a bursting supernova. It lasts longer than you expect, him continuiously fucking you through it.
There's a hand in your hair jerking you back off your face. The air makes you aware of the cooling drool dribbling down your chin, your dirt smeared cheek evidence of your pleasure.
When your hair is released your head lolls back against a cold pauldron. He's still grasping your hip with one hand but the other is pressed low on your belly after it rakes your shirt up over your breasts. Your bra exposed and bouncing with the motions.
He gives a low groan as his hips slow. "Look at that, pretty." Your eyes first slide to his visor as he peers over your shoulder then follow his gaze down when he sinks you further onto his cock. You hiccup with it. The new nickname he gave you melting you down to ash. One breath and you dust away.
At first you think he's taking about the newly shiny grass, the darkened earth below you that you just squirted on. Then he draws back slowly and thrusts back in. His bronzed hand is caressing you, emphasizing the buldge that sinks away only to be pushed back out.
A whimper bubbles from your throat and you throb around him.
"Such a good girl," he praises, "does it feel good?" You nod when you sink back against him again. Your entire body a pool of jelly and there's only his hands to hold onto like this. "My dirty girl takes it so good." You tremble with the words. "Think she can come for me again?"
The hand grasping your hip is the one he moves, evidently the one palming your buldging belly is deemed too important to slide down to your cunt. He bypasses you clit. Flipping to cover your hand with his own. He moves it lower, a stretch for you both with the angle.
His fingers guide yours around where he's breaching you. Everything is wet and slippery. You're sopping. He groans when your pussy flutters around him. "More," you moan.
He rasps out his breaths through his modulator. "Yes, pretty." And the his fingers leave yours and dip back below your palm where they hone in on that elusive bundle.
You don't have the energy to cry out any more. At least not more than twitching and whimpering in his hold. This time when you come, again, more effective than ever before, you tense in his hold and he grunts with it. You head dangles and you give a cry when his cock slips out of you, pressing instead between your thighs.
You can see the red tip from here. Inflamed and glistening with everything your body has given. It disappears and reappears several times before he jerks against you with a cry of your name. You watch as he just comes and comes and comes. Rope after rope of it shooting into the air and adding to the mess you've both made. It covers your thighs, splattering on the grass in front of you.
You can't help yourself. You're already dirty. The thought complete flies past the logic and reasoning side of your brain as you sweep a finger through some of the mess on your thigh.
"I'm sorry," Din mutters. "For being mean."
You hum as you lift your finger to you mouth for a taste and he gapes at you. You can feel his stuttered gasp against your back as you savor the flavor of him on your tongue.
"Forgot what we were fighting about already," you murmur lowly, resting fully against his chest. "You hungry?"
summary: It’s your first time on an ice planet, and Din didn’t warn you about the dangers of snow. Luckily, he knows just how to warm you up.
rating: E (18+!! Soft!Din Djarin, unprotected p in v (wrap it up!), creampie, first kiss, love confessions, Din taking care of you, protective!Din Djarin, Din being a consent king, feelings, softness, blindfolds.)
pairing: Din Djarin/f!reader
word count: 2400+
a/n: A fic for my follower celebration for @secondalto, who requested Din Djarin and the prompt, “Stay here, and I'll run you a bath.” This one kind of took on a life of its own. Reader in this one was born and raised on a desert planet and has very little knowledge about snow/ice planets. I know I said I'd post Tuesday, but I was feeling it. Shoutout to @juletheghoul, who helped with ideas and is amazing. Thank you to @invisibleismyname for the beta!
Masterlist
You’d never seen snow.
It’d been fascinating, coming out of the Razor Crest to see the white wisps falling from the sky, the ground and everything surrounding it bright white. You’d also never been somewhere so cold, either, pulling your jacket closer to your chest, hugging yourself as Din led you through the snow-covered streets of the small town, people moving out of the Mandalorian’s way.
It always made you smile how he intimidated people without doing anything, when you knew he was actually very soft and sweet under all that shiny beskar.
You’d been traveling together for some months now, after he’d stopped on the desert planet you lived and grew up on for a hunt. You had been looking for a way off of the world without anyone knowing, your family having ties to some unsavory people that you wanted no part of, and since you happened to be a grown woman, taught at an early age ways around ship security without detection, you just broke into the Razor Crest while Din was gone, and stowed away.
Yes, sneaking up on a heavily armed Mandalorian was not a good idea.
But you’d been desperate.
Luckily, he hadn’t found you for hours, the ship on course through hyperspace. He’d pulled a blaster on you, which was expected, helmet tilted in confusion, demanding to know how you’d gotten on board, and you made sure he knew you weren’t a threat, and offered a substantial bag of credits for travel.
“I’m not a taxi. You’re off when we land.”
Except, you’d made yourself useful around the ship; helping him make the security better, cleaning, talking to him, and at some point, he’d decided he didn’t mind having you around and said you could stay on as a crew member.
You got to know each other, and feelings developed, one thing led to another, and eventually, the tension snapped. You found yourself bent over a crate, pants down your legs, cool beskar digging into the backs of your thighs with each push of his hips as he made you see stars. He’d told you his name while he was deep inside you, wanting to hear you say it when he made you come, and you’d said it, repeatedly.
That first time had been a couple of months ago, and you’d both jumped head first into the relationship. Din was sweet and devoted to you, and constantly showed you how much he cared; you were so unbelievably happy, giving him the same energy back. You hadn’t seen him without his helmet and understood his creed, he slept with it on, removing the rest of his armor so he could hold you close on the tiny cot at night, and you didn’t mind it one bit.
Now, Din was leading you through the cold streets to an inn, getting you a room. He was going on a hunt that would take an hour or two, and he wanted you to be cozy while you waited for him to return, and for the both of you to have an actual bed to sleep in—the fact he’d thought of such things made you feel all soft and gooey.
“Is it okay?” He’d asked when you’d entered your accommodations.
It wasn’t anything too spectacular, but contained the necessities you’d need—a bed and ‘fresher. You were surprised to see a bathtub, so used to only having access to showers.
You stood in front of him, leaning up to kiss his helmet.
“It’s perfect,” you smiled.
“Good.” He nodded.
“I am so excited about the bed.”
“We’ll sleep well.”
“Oh, I was thinking more space to do activities that didn’t require clothes. Don’t get me wrong, we make the cot work, but imagine all we could do on there.” You pointed with your thumb at the bed behind you.
You heard him clear his throat, the sound staticky from his modulator.
“Fuck,” he breathed.
You grinned.
“Now, you go catch your bounty, and I’ll be waiting for you to come back.”
He pulled you into his arms, tucking your head under his chin.
“I wish I didn’t have to go,” he said softly.
“I know,” you replied. “You’ll be thinking about the bed the entire time.”
“I’ll be thinking about you.”
You felt your chest get tight.
“I’ll be thinking about you, too.”
He moved to press his forehead against yours, hugging you against him. He said goodbye, and when he went to leave, he stood at the door, watching you for a moment like he was trying to imprint in his mind exactly how you looked before he left, and you’d smiled at him, wishing him luck before he left, the door swishing shut behind him.
You spent your time lying on the ridiculously comfortable bed, browsing the holonet on a datapad.
Your eyes kept moving to look out of the window, seeing the flurries falling from the sky, and you thought it might be fun to go look at the town and get a closer look at the snow.
You’d put on your jacket and headed for the outdoors.
You walked around, cold in what you were wearing but not unbearable, browsing shops until you came upon a little park, teenagers of various species bundled up tight, throwing wads of snow at each other. Something hit your arm, and you looked down to see the ice melting as it fell off you.
“Sorry!” One of them said.
You smiled.
“It’s okay. What are you playing?” You asked.
He gave you a funny look.
“It’s a snowball fight. You throw the balls of snow at each other. Wanna play?”
You weren’t too sure.
“What’s the objective?” You asked.
“To try and hit people. It’s fun! Join us. Just scoop up the snow like this and use your hands to make it into a ball.”
It seemed easy enough.
You bent over, getting some into your bare hands and doing what was instructed.
“And throw it!” He said.
You aimed it at him and threw it, him laughing when he dodged.
You played with the teens, your hands going numb and teeth chattering. Your jacket had started soaking through, and even with all of the running, you were beginning to feel the cold seeping into your skin, you’d need to head back inside soon.
All the kids froze, staring past you with wide eyes, and you turned to see what was wrong.
Din was walking purposely towards you, long strides, to get to you as quickly as possible.
“What are you doing?” He asked, worry in his tone.
You frowned.
“Having fun?” Your words stuttered from your jaw moving involuntarily as you showed him the snowball in your hand.
He was in your space, plucking it from you and tossing it, grabbing your hands to inspect them.
“You’re freezing,” he said.
He rubbed his gloved hands over yours as you shivered.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re going to get frostbite. Let’s go,” he said, brokering no room for argument.
He didn’t give you a chance to respond, just pulled you along by the wrist in a hurry.
“I’m okay,” you said.
He grunted in response, making you frown.
“What’s frostbite?”
“Something that happens when your skin is exposed to extreme cold.”
Your eyes went wide.
“Is it bad?” You asked.
“Yes.”
You looked at your free hand, seeing the wrinkled skin, it tingling uncomfortably, like pins and needles. Coming outside had not been your best decision, you were realizing. Nights in the desert got pretty cold, but you could get by in just a jacket—all of the planets you’d traveled to, just that outerwear had been fine. You should have gathered you weren’t dressed appropriately by how many layers the others had been wearing and their gloves.
When you made it back to the room, Din was immediately removing your jacket from your body.
“Strip,” he said.
“What?” Your teeth chattered.
“Get naked.”
“Why?”
He sighed.
“Stay here, and I'll run you a bath,” he said in a gentle tone. “Take off your clothes.”
“A bath?”
“We need to warm you up so you don’t get sick.”
You could hear how worried he was.
“Okay,” you nodded.
Din couldn’t help himself, pulling you into his arms, and squeezing you tightly, the beskar cold against you, making you hiss.
He pulled back immediately, “Sorry,” he said, hands holding onto your arms as his t-visor tilted to look you in the eye.
You smiled reassuringly.
“It’s okay,” you said.
He sighed.
“I’ll let you know when the bath is ready.”
You nodded, and saw him hesitate.
“You can kiss me,” you said, referring to the way he pressed his helmeted forehead to yours—his way of ‘kissing’ you.
He did just that, leaning in, his helmet touching you for a few seconds, before pulling back.
“Give me a few minutes,” his voice was soft.
“Sounds good.”
He left you, heading into the ‘fresher and you heard the sound of water as you quickly removed your clothes and boots, hugging your arms against your naked chest as you shivered uncontrollably.
Din called your name, and you went, him ushering you to the bath and helping you into the hot water.
He was crouched at the side of the tub, his gloved hand stroking your cheek.
“I’ll be right back,” he said softly.
“Okay.”
You were incredibly comfortable under the water, your body warming up and making the feeling come back to your appendages. Din left the room, and you heard rustling, and minutes later, he was walking back towards you in nothing but his helmet.
Your mouth fell open as you took him in, admiring his broad shoulders and chest, his belly that had slightly softened with age, the visible silvered scars scattered on his flesh, and that tantalizing trail of hair that went down and down, your eyes following until they were between his legs, making you gulp. You’d seen him in different states of dress but never entirely naked, and you were drinking him in, mapping out every piece of golden flesh until he was beside the tub.
“Scoot forward,” he said, and you followed his order, Din stepping into the water and sinking down behind you, water sloshing as his legs stretched on either side of yours, his arms wrapping around your torso, pulling you flush against his front.
You leaned your head back against his chest and closed your eyes, smiling as he held you. You were content, happy, the chattering had stopped, and your body relaxed, melting into him.
It was minutes of silence while your body warmed, Din holding you, until he finally spoke.
“You weren’t here,” he said softly, squeezing you a little tighter.
“What?” You breathed.
“When I left, you said you’d be waiting when I returned. I…,” You felt his chest move as he took in a deep breath. “I thought you left.”
You frowned deeply, eyes flying open.
“Left? Like off-planet? Like left you?”
“Yes.” You could hear the sadness, and your heart clenched.
“Din, I’d never. I lo—care about you deeply. I’d never leave you; the thought has never once crossed my mind.”
“Are you… happy?” He asked.
“More than I’ve ever been in my entire life,” you answered truthfully.
“I feel the same,” he said.
“I’m sorry I scared you.”
“I’m glad I found you when I did.”
“I’m sorry,” you whispered.
“Don’t be.” He sighed. “I should have warned you and told you to stay in the room.”
“I just wanted to see more of the snow.”
“My sweet desert girl, almost catching her death from seeing snow for the first time.”
You snorted.
“It’s just so pretty.”
“We’ll get you the right clothes,” he said assuredly.
“I’d like that,” you smiled.
“Can you close your eyes?”
Your eyebrows creased.
“Yes?”
“Okay, close them,” he said.
You did what he said, Din moving behind you, feeling him lean over the side of the tub, and the sound of something set down.
“Keep them closed,” his voice was no longer modulated, and you sucked in a breath. “I’m going to touch you and cover your eyes. Is that okay?”
“Yes,” you whispered.
Fabric was placed over your eyes, a thin washcloth material from the feel of it.
“Lean forward.”
You moved, feeling him tie it securely to the back of your head.
“Does it feel loose at all?” He asked.
“No,” you shook your head.
“Turn around.”
You moved quickly, the water disturbed as you turned around, straddling his thighs, your hands carefully feeling his chest and moving up to wrap your arms around his neck.
“Hi,” he said softly, and you felt his breath close to your lips.
“Hi,” you replied.
Your heart was hammering in your chest, having an idea of what was about to happen.
“Can I kiss you?”
“I hoped you would.”
He chuckled, and the sound was warmer without the helmet and made a tingle move down your spine.
His big hands moved up your back, wrapping an arm around you, while a hand rested on the back of your head.
Lips brushed against yours, softly, tentatively, and you pressed harder into him. A surprised sound came out of your throat when you felt a mustache tickle your lip. You could tell he’d never done this before, and you led him, showed him, and you moaned when he’d licked across your bottom lip, happily letting him deepen the kiss. You could feel him growing hard beneath you, the kisses getting more urgent, Din figuring out quickly what to do. Your body was thrumming, core aching, wanting him desperately.
You broke the kiss panting.
“I need,” you gasped. “I need.”
“Anything,” he rasped.
“I need you.”
He groaned, hands grabbing your ass, lifting you while you moved a hand down to wrap around his length, hot and hard in your palm as you positioned him at your entrance, and started sinking down on him slowly, both of you moaning as he filled you, stretching you open.
You’d never tire of the way he felt inside you—how full you felt, the way it knocked the breath from your lungs when you bottomed out.
You both were feeling something, the emotions taking over, all of the trust and care, the way deep down you knew there would never be anyone else, that he was it for you, and you were it for him, everything came bubbling to the surface, and things got frantic.
You started working yourself on him, his hands helping you move as your mouths crashed together, tongues sliding against one another like you were trying to consume as much of the other as possible. Your fingers were tangled in his hair, surprised at the softness of the thick strands, bodies working together, feeling that familiar pull in your belly winding tighter, everything spurring you higher and higher, the rough sounds of his grunts coming out of his throat.
The coarse hair at the base of his cock was rubbing deliciously against your clit, the added stimulation rocketing you towards your high, and when it happened, when the tension in your body snapped and fell over the edge, it was with his name tumbling from your lips as he swallowed the sound, groaning as you clenched around him. He fell with you, holding you down against him, a rumbling sound vibrating against your chest as you felt him spill deep inside you, your kisses becoming languid until it was just panted breaths against each other's lips, coming down from your highs.
“I love you,” he whispered.
A smile spread across your lips.
“I love you, too, and I’ll never leave you. You’re stuck with me for the rest of your life.”
“Then marry me.”
Thank you for reading! If you'd like to be tagged in future fics, I have a link to my taglist form in my bio or on my masterlist, or you can just let me know!
When y’all are writing is there ever a point when you’re like “if someone does not lose their mind over this specific bit right here then what am I even doing?”
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