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pedrito-friskito · 1 year

Note

hey kay bb!! hope you're doing well 💖

mando has been on the brain lately so i'm requesting fluffy smut with him pls 🥺😫 (the yearning is *extra* today)

niiiiiiiiik my darling my dear hope you are also well 💗

ok…this got away from me. I blinked and suddenly a plot! exposition! SMUT! (multiple scenes at that) all the things. I’m a slut for Din Djarin and it really jumped out on this one.

(smut below the cut, a full plot, the helmet comes off, a bit of inexperienced!din, reader is kind of a bad ass, descriptions of bodies, unprotected p-in-v sex - wrap ur shit even if ur in space ok)

sleepover saturday

uncharted territory

(word count 9.1k - it REALLY got away from me okay)

gif by @aceofwhump

Then you are a Mandalorian no more.

Din Djarin aches in a way he has never felt before, much more powerful than any injury he could ever sustain. His Creed, demolished. His son, gone. His life, upended. As he staggers out of the Covert, trying to think of where to go next, he cannot shake the feeling of lost that settles around his shoulders like a cloak.

Maybe coming to Glavis was a mistake; maybe he should have stayed back on Nevarro, kept taking jobs from Karga until he finally had enough credits to take the old man’s advice, get himself a camtono full of spice and disappear into the Twi’lek healing baths until he forgot the whole thing.

The truth of it? He knew he could never forget. There wasn’t enough spice in the galaxy to help him forget it all. It wasn’t possible. And the larger part was that Din didn’t want to forget.

His leg aches as he walks. The bacta Paz had sprayed him down with had helped some, but the ache runs deep, and the drills the Armourer had forced him to run with the Darksaber had only made matters worse. He should find a place to lie down, to hide for the night before he decides what he plans to do next, where he plans to go.

Where will he go?

You are a Mandalorian no more.

The echo of the words make his head split, and for a moment, he has half a mind to wrench the helmet off, to launch it off the ring, let space swallow the beskar whole. But he stops himself; it feels as though his armour is all he has left.

His armour, and the Darksaber. The right to the throne of Mandalore.

Maker, he can’t think straight. The ache only worsens, his limp more prominent, and it gets to the point where he can take no more. He falls onto the nearest crate, his injured leg stuck straight out in front of him. His body feels twice as heavy, his head even more so, and he tips it back against the wall to lighten the load. He’ll rest just a moment, he’ll just shut his eyes for one—

“Mando?”

Din pulls his blaster from his holster as his eyes shoot open. There’s the sound of shuffled steps, something metallic hitting the floor, a murmured dank farrik! He hits a button on his vambrace, turns off the thermal setting on his visor.

“Sweets?”

You look exactly the same as he remembers. It’s been ages, but he could never forget your face. He knows what’s underneath your clothes, too, and the memory speeds to the surface of his mind faster than a pod-racer.

Before he had an in with Peli on Tatooine, the Razor Crest routinely parked and tuned up in Hangar 3-5, he had you. You were well-known within the Guild, had more than a few contracts with different gangs and hunters in the galaxy. If something on a ship broke, you were the one to fix it, and you had enough heavily-armed thugs on your side to make anyone think twice about trying to mess with you.

Some called you the Mechanic, simple and descriptive. Others, those you let a little closer, knew you as Sweets, a moniker earned by your penchant for candies and treats. You’d let your favoured clients off easy if they were short a few credits, but had something sweet from the far reaches of the galaxy to offer in lieu of the missing cash.

Din knew he was one of your favoured clients, perhaps your favourite. Or, had been. You’d crowed endlessly about the Crest, desperate to get your hands on it any time he hauled it in for service, whether it actually needed it or not. Sometimes he genuinely needed something fixed, some times he’d found some candy or sweet in a far off corner of the galaxy that he’d brought back just for you.

Other times, he just wanted to see you.

You were sweet in other ways, too. He knew first-hand. And he knew he was the only client you let into your bed. He’d been drawn to you the first time you’d been introduced — a common contact between you and Din sent him your way when the Crest was in serious need of a tune-up, and you were the closest mechanic he could get to without doing more damage to the ship.

Your knowledge astounded him, to start. You were barely into a diagnostic and you knew exactly what needed to be fixed, what parts you had and didn’t, how many credits it was going to cost him. And you hadn’t even set foot on the ship yet. Your competency drove him wild, only spurred on when he brought you aboard the Crest to give the interior a once-over, eager to see if he’d kept everything original, or if you had any modifications to offer that he might be interested in. Din followed you around the ship silently, answering whatever questions you had, mostly just watching you work. It was intriguing beyond belief.

“That’s not much of a bed,” you’d commented, cocking your head to the side when you hit the button that opened the bunk. “When’s the last time you had a new mattress?”

He just shrugged.

“One thing you should know,” you said over your shoulder, descending the Crest’s ramp, heading back towards the entrance to your shop. “I don’t use droids.”

Din nearly fell over. “That’s not a problem.”

“Good,” you replied, tapping at your data pad, your brow scrunching. “It’ll take longer than your usual hangar; I do everything myself.”

“I’m happy to wait,” he said, dipping his helmet, thankful it was hiding the way he was raking his eyes over you. I don’t use droids. Had someone made you in a lab somewhere, on some backwater planet, just for him? “I know she’s in good hands.”

The grin you’d offered him was sweeter than anything he’d ever seen, and you shooed him out a moment later, muttering something about getting back to work.

When he returned three days later to retrieve his ship, he almost didn’t recognize it. You’d repainted most of the outside panels, replaced all the ones that were missing, and the engines were so shiny Din could see his helmet reflected in them. Inside the Crest was another story; you’d outfitted him with a carbonite cell system, top of the line and primed for use. That meant no more mouthy bounties, no more wasting durasteel cuffs and gags when he could just hit a button and have a quiet ride back to the Guild.

And in the bunk, a new mattress, complete with a pillow, and bolted on the wall, a mount for his helmet.

“You don’t sleep with that thing on, do you?”

“The carbonite system,” he nearly sputtered, rubbing a gloved hand over the back of his neck. “I don’t have the credits, I didn’t—”

You poked the toe of his boot with your own. “Call it a gift, Mando. Let’s just say I shouldn’t have had the thing hanging around to begin with.”

“Is that gonna cause me any problems?”

“Nope,” you replied, popping the p. “Wiped all the identification numbers from the system. No one will know where it came from. Except you.”

He stared at you a long moment. “Except me.”

He was sure to pay you in full, plus the candied flowers he’d found at one of the vendors in the markets. You’d smiled again at that, and while Din committed the sight to memory, he also promised himself that he wouldn’t let it be long before he saw your smile again.

And he kept that promise. The next time he landed the Crest in your hangar, it wasn’t because he needed a tune-up or new parts. He’d struck gold at a black market on Coruscant; his bounty had lead him into the belly of a sweet shop, and after the Gungan had been dealt with, Din did some hunting of his own. He took as many boxes as he could carry, trying to take one of each flavour, a few extra of the ones he’d seen on the shelf in your shop.

“What in Maker’s name are you doing here?” you’d called as soon as he landed, stepping out of the shop and into the hangar, your hands on your hips, cocked to one side. “You ruin my handiwork that fast?”

“Not exactly,” he’d replied, walking down the ramp, his arms laden with goodies. Your eyes had gone huge. “I come bearing gifts.”

“For me?” you cried, gasping as you took the boxes from him, tongue poking between your teeth. “Mandalorian, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were flirting with me.”

He’d never been so grateful for his helmet at that exact moment. He might have crumbled to dust if you’d seen how red his cheeks were. “I-I owed you,” he stuttered out, “for the carbonite.”

“You didn’t owe me anything,” you quipped, swaying from side to side on your feet, staring down at your treats. “I told you, it was a gift.” You gave him one of those smiles again, and Din felt his stomach twist at the glitter in your eyes. “Why don’t you stay a while? I’ll feed you and everything.”

You disappeared into the shop, and Din paused a moment before following.

He saw you disappear behind a dark curtain that had definitely seen better days, and Din followed your further to discover there was an apartment of sorts attached to the shop. Apartment was perhaps too kind a word; it was one large room, a kitchen to one side, a large futon spread in the middle. Trunks and boxes and crates stacked along the far wall, a few grease-stained jumpsuits littering the floor. You stumbled over your feet trying to pick them up, tossing the offending fabric into a nearby crate, before you turned back to him. “What are you hungry for?”

You served him first. Noodles with dark sauce and some kind of shredded meat you thought was bantha but weren’t quite sure. But, as you stated with a shrug, “it’s good, and it hasn’t killed me yet.” After you slid the bowl across the table to him, you turned back to the stove and stayed that way. After a moment, Din wasn’t sure what to do, but then your head turned slightly, your eyes trained directly to the left, not wandering towards him over your shoulder. “I won’t look. Swear.”

He lifted the helmet just enough to shovel the food into his mouth. You were right, the mystery meat was good, and the sauce you’d made to go with it was even better. He nearly inhaled the food, not wanting to keep you too long, and when the helmet slid back down, the mechanism hissing back into place, your head turned again, still not looking at him.

“You’re safe,” he said, sliding his empty bowl back across the table.

You turned fully, serving yourself, and he expected you to sit across from him, keeping a bit of distance between you, but instead, you rounded the table and plunked yourself down on the stool right beside him. You ate much slower than he had, and Din let his eyes graze over you. The streak of engine grease on your cheek, the scar that split your lower lip, the intricately messy way you wore your hair. A silver chain sat around your throat, strung with a tiny silver ring. It disappeared down the front of your shirt most of the time, but right then it sat awkwardly, the chain caught on your collar, the ring sitting in the hollow of your throat. He resisted the urge to reach out and fix it.

The jumpsuit you wore was nearly identical to the ones you’d hurriedly swiped off the floor. Torn on one knee, zipper unfurling beneath your chest, a symbol he didn’t recognize patched onto your thigh. You’d tied the sleeves around your waist like a belt, a dirty rag tucked in at your hip. The Mechanic, herself. Sweets.

He thought you were beautiful. He had a feeling you’d look beautiful in anything.

Or nothing.

Din was distracted by your thumb at your lips, swiping a drop of sauce from your chin and sucking your finger into your mouth. His flight-suit was tight beneath his beskar to begin with, and you weren’t helping matters. “So,” you said simply, reaching for your food again. “Tell me a story, Mando. A good one. Best bounty you ever caught.”

The conversation filtered between you two easily. You were a good listener, easy to talk to, and Din felt like he couldn’t stop talking to you, telling you about his first kill, his first bounty. His first ship, before the Crest. He couldn’t bring himself to tell you about the before, before the Guild, before he was just the Mandalorian, when he was just Din Djarin. A foundling. Part of him wondered what you think, what your reaction might be to his past, but a larger part forced his mouth shut.

At some point, he turned himself towards you on his stool, one arm braced on the table, the other resting on his thigh. After you finished your food, you leaned heavily on the table, your head pushed into your palm, legs crossed at your ankles, swinging slowly, the toe of your boot tapping his shin every once in a while.

He could see you were tired, the way you started covering your yawns and rubbing at your eyes. “I should go,” he said, starting to get to his feet. “You’re tired, and I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”

Your hand flashed out quick — not quick enough to startle him, though — and wrapped around his wrist. You’d managed to wedge your fingers right into the space where his glove met his vambrace, and he felt you against his pulse, against his bare skin. “You don’t have to leave, Mando.”

Din. He wanted to tell you. My name is Din.

Slowly, his own hand reached out, hovering in the air, shaking more than a vibroblade. He saw your eyes trace its path, watching until it lowered, dropped until the flat of his palm met the curve of your thigh. His gloved fingers wrapped around the meat of your leg, his thumb pressing towards the inside.

He heard you gasp.

He moved forward an inch, and his hand moved higher, thumb riding the seam of your jumpsuit. You hummed, fingered squeezing around his wrist, and Din moved closer, until he had one leg between yours. He let his hand wander higher, listening carefully to the changes in your breathing, the hitch in your throat. The heat between your legs was almost stifling, and something feral in the back of his brain screamed for more.

Whatever snapped in him, it seemed to break in you at exactly the same time. You both shot to your feet together, and Din’s hands moved to your waist, to where your sleeves were knotted at your waist. Yours roamed his chest plate, fingers tapping along beskar until you hooked them in his cloak. He halted his own hands, ready to help you remove the fabric, but you handled it just fine on your own, finding the hidden snaps with ease.

His blood turned to flame when he felt your fingers along his throat, seeking his pulse in another spot. “You should stay,” you breathed out, your voice barely above a murmur. “Please, Mando, I want you to stay.”

He forced himself to nod, his mind now preoccupied with ripping his gloves from his hands. He needed to feel you, no barriers in between.

He needed to see you, something in him screamed, no barriers in between.

He silenced that voice before it could spur him further. Busied himself with diving his hand beneath the waist of the jumpsuit, the broken zipper catching on his wrist. You were even hotter beneath, and he sucked down a breath when he found you wet, slick coating his fingers.

Your body leaned into him, chasing his touches, and he hooked his other hand around your thigh, lifting you up and backwards onto the table. He could feel you watching, your eyes moving from his helmet down his front, to where his hand was jammed beneath the jumpsuit. He crooked one finger, testing, pressing it into you, and grinned beneath his helmet when you moaned.

Din hooked his arm under your waist, lifting you just enough that he could maneuver the jumpsuit over your hips, down your legs. His cock jolted between his legs at the sight of you bare, leaned back on the table, your chest heaving. Even though the visor, he could see how slick you were, the evidence shining on the insides of your thighs.

He wanted to taste you.

He pushed the thought away again. Another time, when he wasn’t smearing the inside of his flight-suit with precum, when you weren’t keening into his touch as he dragged his fingers against the sensitive skin between your legs, when he could turn the lights off and shed his armour, bare himself to you the same way.

You moaned again when his fingers found your clit, drawing a sloppy circle that had your muscles tensing against his hand, knees closing against his hips. “F-fuck, Mando,” you ground out, tipping your head back on your shoulders. “You’re good with those hands.” Another stuttered breath as he twisted his wrist, curling two fingers just inside your entrance, thumb stretching up to swipe over your clit. “Really good.”

He was grinning beneath the helmet again, eyes glued to your face as he pressed further, fingers threading deeper into you. He could feel everything, the twitch of your thighs, the clench of your cunt. You reached out with one hand, using the other to balance yourself, and closed it around his elbow, your fingers digging into the thick fabric so hard he was shocked your nails didn’t bite right through.

“How do you like it, Sweets?” he asked, leaning forward until he was nearly hovering over you. Your hand moved from his elbow to chest, fingers hooked in his armour. “Tell me what you need.”

Your hand moved again, this time moving straight down his front, past his waist, right between his legs. His cock throbbed as you palmed him, a cat-like grin on your lips as you tilted your head level with the visor. You leaned up slightly, pressed your lips to the beskar edge that mirrored his jaw. Another squeeze, and the slow pace of his fingers faltered, his head nearly smacking into yours. “I need this.”

Din couldn’t hold back anymore. Something in the way you stared up at him, eyes tracing over the helmet, told him you didn’t want him to.

“I like it rough.”

It all happened in one fluid motion. He pulled you closer, right off the edge of the table, and you spun in his grip, leaning forward over the table, planting your hands flat. The jumpsuit slid further towards your ankles and you arched your back, your ass grinding against his hardness, and Din groaned audibly, tilting his head towards the ceiling. Your legs spread as much as the jumpsuit would allow, and Din worked his own zipper down, freeing himself from the flight-suit. You made the most delicious noise as the tip of his cock smacked against your ass, the tip dripping with precum.

Your head turned as he took himself in hand, tapping your ass with his cock again. “Maker,” you breathed out, your eyes widening. “I knew you’d be big.”

Beneath the helmet, Din turned crimson.

He planted his other hand between your shoulders, tipping you forward. You went willingly, eyes rolling back as he pushed his hips against your ass. He could see how wet you were as you bent, slick still dripping down your thighs.

There was nothing stopping him from dropping to his knees right then and there, lifting the helmet just enough to drag his tongue through your cunt. The thought alone made his cock pulse.

But then your hand reached back, twisting in the fabric covering his hip, and he couldn’t wait any longer. He bent his knees slightly, notching himself at your entrance, and pushed inside.

The noise you let out was nearly enough to make him cum right then and there. He knew he wasn’t gonna last, and judging by the sounds you continued to make and the way you were bearing down on him, hands clenched into fists on the tabletop, he didn’t think you were either. He set a fast pace, the space filling with the slick sound of him driving in and out of you, your moans echoing each move. Din’s gaze dropped, trained on the sight of his cock disappearing to you. Your hand flapped at his hip, scrabbling for purchase, and he wrapped his fingers around your forearm, groaning when you did the same.

He was right; you didn’t last long, and neither did he. Your entire body clenched as you came, one hand slamming against the table, nails digging deep into his wrist. It spurred his own orgasm, that coil at the base of his spine snapping, and he pulled out, cumming hard across the curve of your ass.

Silence settled over the both of you as you caught your breath. Din couldn’t help himself, rubbing his bare fingers over the expanse of your back, tracing over your spine. You arched a bit into his touch, making a satisfied noise before you lifted yourself off the table. You turned to him, leaned up to press a hot kiss to his bare throat. It made him shiver.

“Think we could do that again?” you murmured, lifting a finger and dragging it along the edge of his helmet. “Maybe you take all the metal off.”

Din cleared his throat, trying to ignore the way his cock twitched, already wanting a second round. “Helmet stays on.”

You stared at him a long moment, smile on your lips. “Helmet stays on.”

He kept close to you after that night. He rarely took bounties that took him to further reaches of the galaxy, loathe to admit that he was always within a few parsecs of your hangar. He brought you a long-distance commlink so he could tell you when he was coming back, so you could contact him if you ever needed him. He didn’t worry about you, per se; you were more than capable of taking care of yourself, and he knew for a fact you knew how to shoot the blaster you kept holstered on your thigh when he wasn’t around.

But then the comm went quiet. He called, you didn’t answer. A lead weight formed in his stomach, and he pushed the Crest’s engines are fast as they’d go. Carefully, though — he wouldn’t dare ruin any of your handiwork.

When he landed in the hangar, the lights were all off. It didn’t help his worry, and it only grew worse as he sprinted off the Crest, heading straight for the shop door.

It was locked, but the lock was no match for his vibroblade and a bit of brute force. Inside, the space was empty. no trace of you left inside. There was no sign of a struggle, no blood smeared on the floor or the wall, but it didn’t ease his mind any. What if someone had come for you, spirited you away in the dead of night to some backwater planet? Dank farrik, what if someone had put out a bounty on you? His mind reeled, raced, chewed him up and spit him out.

He never meant to get so attached to you.

Din switched the settings on his visor, finally determining that all the footprints he could make out on the floor were your own. Then he saw it, sitting on the edge of one of the shelves in the kitchen. The commlink, perched precariously, just enough out of sight that no one else would think twice, but not Din.

He thumbed through the screen, saw the icon flashing with a recorded message. Your face lit up the screen instantly, and he stifled the way his stomach clenched. You looked…scared. Not hurt, not injured, but scared.

“Someone sold me out,” you said, your voice distorted and warped. “I can’t give you details. I can’t really tell you anything. Just know I’m going somewhere safe, and I’ll miss you, Mandalorian. Take care of yourself.”

Your eye were shiny as you reached out to cut the recording, and Din’s heart sank into his toes.

He put the commlink in his pocket, and returned to his ship.

He’d watched the message so many times the words were engraved into his brain. The change in your voice, the way you’d blinked harder the more you spoke. The way you paused in the middle, glanced over your shoulder with a shock of fear in your eyes.

And now here you are, standing in front of him, a pile of metal spilling out of a crate tucked beneath your arm, that same streak of fear in those big eyes. Eyes that have haunted him all these years. You nearly drop the crate as you crouch, your gaze zeroing in on the wound on his leg. “Maker, Mando, what the hell did you do?”

“Long story,” he groans out, wincing as you adjust his leg slightly, leaning to the side so you can get a better look. “What are you doing here?”

“I live here,” you reply, getting back to your feet, retrieving your crate of parts. “C’mon, let me clean you up. You look like hell.”

Din goes willingly, not sure what else to do, his mind racing from the combination of the Covert and you appearing out of nowhere. He lets you pull him slowly to his feet, tuck yourself under his arm. “Sweets,” he starts to protest, but you drag his arm around your shoulders.

“Shush,” you whisper, glancing around as you start to lead him in the opposite direction he’d been going. “Lean your weight on me.” He does as you say, nearly crumbling with relief. “There you go.”

The ache only worsens as you go, Din resisting the urge to lean his head against yours. When you finally turn him towards the door, he thinks he may topple over completely, but you’re quicker, producing a remote from your pocket. The door slides open, revealing the inside of a hangar, and you all but carry him through, discarding the crate of parts the moment you’re through, hitting the button again once you’re inside. The door slides shut, and Din lifts his head enough to look around. It looks nearly identical to your old hangar.

Then he hears a curious little beep, and looks down to see a tiny droid scurrying towards you. A BD-1 unit; he recognizes it from Peli’s, though yours is a little more rusty around the edges, the cleaner bits of metal painted grey and yellow. “Not now, Shrimp,” you grit, waving at the droid. It beeps loudly back at you, like an arguing child, and Din stifles his laugh.

“I thought you didn’t use droids,” he mumbles.

“He came with the hangar,” you reply, moving him across the hangar. Shrimp follows a few more steps before darting off, disappearing into a pile of crates. “Couldn’t bring myself to scrap him. Besides, not like he’s much help; tiny thing can’t even lift a socket wrench.”

He laughs out loud this time, and when you pull him into the shop, he laughs again, despite himself.

There’s a shelf of sweets above the workbench.

There’s no curtain between the shop and the apartment, instead another sliding door, another remote. Din lets out a low hum when he sees the apartment beyond. More than one room, furnished with actual furniture. It’s…nice. It’s really nice.

You deposit him on the couch, propping his leg up on the table in front of it. “Wait here,” you mumble, pointing a finger at him before disappearing into another room.

He doesn’t move, but hooks his fingers into the edge of his helmet and yanks it off, depositing it on the couch beside him. He sucks down a breath of unfiltered air.

You gasp as you walk back into the room, nearly dropping the silver case in your hand. “Mando, you—”

“Din,” he says instantly, reaching down, tugging his gloves off, tossing them onto the helmet. “My name is Din Djarin.”

“Din,” you repeat, slowly, like you’re tasting his name on your tongue. The corner of your mouth quirks. “Din…Djarin.”

He just nods. You approach him carefully, like you’re walking towards an injured animal instead of a man, the silver case clutched against your chest.

“Your helmet,” you start, gesturing vaguely. A memory sparks. He told you before — not in so many words — about his Creed, his upbringing. You’d asked, and he’d answered. It wasn’t information he gave willingly. The second time he had you, when you were sprawled out completely naked on that old futon, writhing and moaning beneath him, when he’d shed almost all his beskar, felt the warmth of your body pressed up against all of him. Afterward, when you’d both been sated for the time being, you’d peered up at him from your place on his chest. “Do you ever take it off?” you asked, your voice laced with sleep.

And he’d answered.

“It doesn’t matter,” he says now, eyes darting towards the curve of silver. “I’m not a Mandalorian anymore.”

“What?” you ask, your brow furrowing. He wants to reach out, let his thumb ride the space between your eyebrows, feel it smooth over as he kisses the spot. “What does that mean?”

“It means…” He trails off. Loaded question. What does it mean? Truly? “My name is Din Djarin.”

There’s still confusion etched into your features, but you don’t question him further. Your brow doesn’t loosen, and you perch on the table.

“What’s in the case?” he asks, jutting his chin towards the silver case still in your hands.

You look at him for a long moment, eyes sweeping over his face, over his features. Like you’re committing him to memory. He’s doing the same, almost scrutinizing your face, trying to remember what it looks like without the filter of his visor, what you truly look like, with no barriers in between.

He could taste you easily now.

The thought catches him off guard, the throb between his legs a welcome change to the pulsing of the wound on his thigh. The bacta the Covert had given him has worn off almost completely, and the pain is climbing.

“B-bacta shot,” you stutter out, shaking your head slightly as you flipped open the case. Your eyes moved to the wound on his leg, peering at the plates of beskar, the flight-suit, the discarded helmet on the couch. “That needs to be cleaned.”

Din just nods.

“Think you can walk to the bedroom?” you ask, shoving the silver case into the chest pocket of your jumpsuit. He recognizes it — the tear in the knee, the patch on your thigh. You fixed the zipper. “It’ll be easier.”

It’s slow-going, getting him back to his feet, shuffling carefully to the bedroom. You ask him if he wants to bring the helmet; he just shakes his head.

What does that mean?

Your bed is unmade, but Din barely notices. The scent of you is amplified in here, and he’s sucking down breaths like he’s been deprived of oxygen. You help him lower to the edge of the bed, and he starts on the armour. You sink to your knees in front of him, setting the bacta shot on the mattress beside him. He removes a pauldron with shaking fingers, and you’re right there to take it from him, your movements sure, setting the metal carefully onto the floor, waiting for the next piece.

“You disappeared,” he says, after more pieces of beskar have been removed, when you’ve moved onto his boots, setting them both carefully at your side.

Your brow had just smoothed out, and it pinches again. “I had to. I left you a message.”

Din pulls the zipper on his flight-suit, reaches into the pocket sewn into the lining, and produces the commlink. “I know.”

Your lips part as you look at the piece of metal, dwarfed by his hand. “You found it.”

“I did.”

Bottom lip caught between your teeth, you look back up at him through your lashes. “It wasn’t safe.”

“You’re safe now,” he says, and you reach for the bacta shot. “Tell me.”

“It doesn’t matter now,” you reply, your voice bordering on stern. “Somebody sold me out.”

“I knew that much,” Din mumbles, and you shoot him a glare.

You sigh. “Let’s just say, there were some parts in the hangar that shouldn’t have been there, someone wasn’t happy with some work I did, and then next thing I knew, there were Imps on my tail. So I disappeared.”

“You could have told me where you were going.”

You shake your head. “They were listening. Tracking every message I sent out. I couldn’t let you get roped into it too.”

“You could have gone to the Guild,” he says. He’s too distracted to notice you pull the syringe out of the case. He doesn’t see the needle until you’re pushing it into his muscle above the wound. He grits his teeth audibly, hands curling hard around the edge of the mattress. “Dank farrik.”

“Sorry.”

“I would have come for you,” he says, breath hitching in his throat as you push the plunger down. It feels like his body has been flooded with ice water, his teeth chattering for a moment before the cold turns to a woozy sort of warmth that spreads through his chest like Corellian fire whiskey. He blinks hard, slow, one eye than the other.

“Can you stand?” He nods. Or thinks he does. “The bacta will help, but I need to put a bandage on that wound, at least.” More nodding. He’s vaguely aware of you draping his arms around your neck, your arms sliding around his waist to haul him up. He plants his feet beneath him, forces his weight over his ankles. His movements are slow, languid, like he’s moving through water. You manoeuvre one arm out of his flight-suit, pushing the fabric down his shoulders, until it settles around his hips. The metallic sound of the zipper seems to echo through his brain, and he knows you’re touching his waist, moving the fabric slowly over his injured thigh. But it doesn’t hurt.

All he can feel is you.

You sit him down again, work on pulling the suit off completely. Your hands are warm, soft, gentle against his bare legs, and he nearly buries his nose in the crown of your head when you bend down. Once the flight-suit has been removed, leaving him in his boxers and undershirt, you disappear again, and Din’s not sure if it’s thirty seconds or thirty minutes.

Something cold presses against his thigh, and he flinches. “Does it hurt?” you ask instantly, and your voice is clear, then muffled, then clear again. “It shouldn’t.”

“Nuh-uh,” he slurs out. He hears you laugh, and the sound is like tinkling bells. He wants to hear it again. “Sweets.”

“Yes, Din?” Clear, muffled. His name is a song on your lips.

“You’re beautiful.”

“So are you.”

“Mesh’la,” he mumbles, and then his eyes fall shut, his body slumps back, and he thinks you laugh again. He’s not quite sure; sleep is too busy yanking him under.

Din wakes to the sound of running water.

He’s disoriented, confused, not sure where he is until he pushes up on his elbows, looks around, drinks in the sight of your bedroom. The memory floods back; the Covert, then the hangar, taking the helmet off, the bacta shot that knocked him out.

But more importantly: you.

He rubs the sleep from his eyes. How long was he out? He can’t be sure; there’s a window on the far side of the room, but time on Glavis is different, artificial nighttime and starlight instead of sun. His armour has been moved from the floor, neatly piled on a dresser against the wall, his boots on the floor underneath. His flight-suit is spread out on a worktable in the middle of the room, and he can see from his spot that you’ve tried to mend it, patching the spot the Darksaber had cut open with a square of fabric. It’s looks to be the same kind of material, but the colour is darker. Beneath the sheets, his leg is wrapped in cotton bandages, and there’s no sign of blood seeping to the surface.

His head turns in the direction of the noise of the water, and he pauses, waits for some kind of pain to prick through his body, but it never comes. He feels…good. Well-rested. His eyes follow the sound, and then he sees it.

The door to your bathroom is wide open, and from his spot on your bed, he can see directly into the shower. You’re inside, steam pouring over the top of the glass wall, and Din’s whole body jerks. He never forgot what you looked like naked, and it’s been a long time, but somehow it still feels like the first time. He can feel the blood rushing south, and his hands clench in the bedsheets.

He just stares, watching the water move over you, cascading down your spine, rolling in rivulets over your curves, following the lines of your body. He wants to follow them too, wants to read you like a map only he knows the key to.

Dank farrik, he’s missed you. He hadn’t realized how much.

The water shuts off, and he sees you reach for a towel, wiping your face first. He sinks back down on the bed, wondering if he should feign sleep, feeling like a kid caught doing something he’s not supposed to. But before he can— “You’re awake,” he hears you call, and looks back just as you wrap the towel around your middle. “I thought you’d be out for the night.”

Din coughs, shifting the blankets, trying to hide the tent that’s formed in his boxers. “You don’t close the door?” He doesn’t know what else to say.

You laugh. “I live alone,” you say, stepping out of the bathroom, walking towards the dresser his armour sits upon. “Force of habit.”

He clears his throat. Loudly. Pauses. “…it’s a nice view.”

Your tongue peeks between your lips as you walk over to him, still in just the towel. Your hair is still dripping, water droplets dotting your shoulders. You sink slowly onto the edge of the bed. “How do you feel?”

“G-good,” he spits out, adjusting himself, making more room for you. “Really good.”

The corner of your mouth quirks. “I’m glad. You scared me, Man—” You catch yourself. “Din.”

A drop of water splashes down from your hair, starts a path down your upper arm, and Din reaches out, catching it on his finger. You watch his hand, lips softly parted, and he continues the path, drawing his hand up and down your skin, the backs of his knuckles against your bicep.

“I wondered where you were, all these years,” you whisper. There’s longing in your voice, he notices; the same feeling sits like a weight on his chest. “I never stopped wondering.”

“I’ll tell you sometime,” he whispers back. There’s something forming in the air between you, thick like the steam that still foams from the open bathroom. Din can almost taste it, and the thought he’d had in your living room resurfaces, making him twitch beneath the sheets. He could taste you so easily now. “It’s a long story.”

The corner of your mouth quirks. “I got nothing but time.”

So does he, he realizes. He’s without a ship, without his son, without anything anchoring him to one planet or another, to any sort of path. He’d been wandering already, trying to find the Covert, and now he is unmoored once more, yet somehow managed to find his way back to your hangar.

To your bed.

His hand stops chasing water droplets, and he sees your teeth sink into your lower lip. He lowers his palm until it rests on your bare thigh, and he can feel how your skin is still hot from the shower. “I never kissed you,” he rasps. “Before.”

Your head shakes slowly, and you turn towards him more fully. The towel is loose around your chest, your hand holding it in place, and he reaches for it, slowly uncurling your fingers from the fabric, until your grip falls slack, and the towel goes with it. “You should fix that,” you murmur.

“I’m out of practice.”

Your lips twitch again. “How bad?”

“Few decades,” he says softly. “Since before I swore the Creed.”

“You were a child.”

“It was a childish kiss.” He pauses, moves his hand again, brushes dripping locks of hair from your face. “I don’t want to kiss you like that.”

“Just…” Din leans in slightly, tilts his head to the side. “Do what feels natural.” You mirror his movement, and his eyes are glued to your mouth, to the way your lips stay parted even when you’re done speaking, the way your collar lifts with shuddered breaths. He sees your hands move the towel out of the corner of his eye, pulling the fabric away from your body completely until you’re bared to him, head to toe.

You’re just as beautiful as he remembers. If not more.

The tip of his nose drags along the slope of yours, and his hand slides from your thigh to your hip. “I need you closer, Sweets,” he murmurs, and you nod against him, your foreheads tapping together. There’s a bit of shuffling, the blankets moved back, his tented boxers exposed but barely acknowledged as you climb into his lap. He revels in the way you look above him, your knees pressed either side of his hips. You’re hesitant to lower your weight onto his leg, and he guides you slow, giving you a quiet it’s okay as you settle onto him.

He doesn’t feel any pain; he just feels you.

Once you’re comfortable, your hands clutching at his shoulders, he adjusts his grip on you, palms skimming up your spine, mapping out your ribs and the curve of your ass. You make a quiet noise when he squeezes one cheek, the movement propelling you forward, making your hips roll into his, your core pushed against his hard cock. It makes him hiss with pleasure, and he slides one hand up to your hair, knotting his fingers in it and dragging your mouth down to his.

It’s not artful; he’s sure it doesn’t look pretty from the outside. There’s a lot of teeth and tongue, the fumble of hands as he tries to get you even closer. He’s sure you’ve been kissed better than this, and it makes his cheeks heat, makes him pull away, tucking his chin towards his chest. “I’m sorry, I—”

“Hey,” you say softly, your hands moving to cup his cheeks, tilting his face back up towards you. “It’s okay. Just…follow my lead?” You say it like a question, your thumbs swiping over his face, through the smatter of facial hair along his jaw. “I got you.”

Din nods, lets his lips part as you cock your head to the side, leaning in slow. You kiss his top lip and then his bottom one, giving him just enough teeth that he wants more, wants it harder. He grips your hips as you move, but your kiss stays tender, slow, your tongue a wet heat against his own. He’d dreamed of this, of kissing you, and this one — albeit the second attempt — is everything he ever imagined.

Finally, your mouth grows more insistent. He’s hard as steel between his legs, and he can feel how hot you are, your wetness spreading across his boxers with every roll of your hips. Your mouth is sweet, almost sugary, and he finds himself chuckling against your lips, still trying to get you closer. Your stomach presses to his as you wrap your arms around his neck, kissing him harder, your tongue licking into his mouth.

“Sweets,” he grinds out when you start pulling at his undershirt, insistent to get it over his head. He lets you, and when you lower your head again, your mouth moves to his throat instead, and it makes him moan. “Mesh’la, wait, please, I need—”

You pull back instantly, your eyes bright with worry. “What is it? Are you okay?”

“I want…” His eyes drop, tracing a path down your body, his throat growing dry when they land on the apex of your thighs, the glistening wetness he knows he’s caused. He lets one hand follow the path his eyes made, rubs his thumb over your clit. Your whole body shivers. “I want to taste you.”

Your eyes go big, pupils blown with lust, and Din uses your momentary shock to his advantage. He’s stronger than you, perks of the bounty hunting lifestyle, and he flips you easily with one arm around your waist, his other hand hitching your thigh over his hip. You squeak as your head hits the pillows, clinging to him until you’re laid out beneath him.

It’s his turn to kiss his way down your throat, and he does, laving his tongue against your pulse as he makes his way down your body. He pauses at your chest, moves to the side to close his lips around your nipple. It makes your back arch, a high-pitched noise falling from your mouth, and he grins against you, giving you just the edge of his teeth before he’s wandering across your chest to give the other the same attention.

You’re a writhing mess by the time he’s settled between your thighs. He can’t keep his eyes still, raking over every inch of you, trying to remember every part. He can see the muscles in your legs jump as he traces his fingers over them, the more sensitive parts of your skin making you keen.

With your legs spread, he can see everything, and his mouth waters at the sight of your wet cunt, walls fluttering around nothing as he teases you with his fingers, collecting your wetness on the tips before drawing them to his mouth.

He moans at the taste. Of course, you’re sweet. Deliciously so.

“Din,” you groan out, propping yourself up on your elbows. He can feel you watching, and his gaze flicks up to yours as he drops his jaw, lowers his mouth to you. Your eyes roll back for a moment, one hand moving to knot in his hair, and Din moans into you. His tongue explodes with the taste of you, sending shocks down his spine, making his hips rolls into the mattress, seeking relief.

Just do what feels natural, your words echo in his head. So he does. He licks into you, wide stripes with the flat of his tongue, smaller kitten licks to your clit. He can’t get enough of your taste, hooking his hands around your thighs, pulling himself deeper into you. And you guide him some, your hand in his hair an anchor of sorts, tugging slightly to get him right where you need him, a gasped oh fuck, right there! reaching his ears.

It’s not before long that you’re smacking at his shoulder, muffled moans on your lips with your teeth sunk into your lower one. He detaches from you, gets one more good look and lick in before he’s following your grip, kissing every inch of you he can reach as he makes his way back up your body.

“I need you inside me,” you slur, your hands reaching down, pushing at his boxers. His cock springs up against his stomach and he groans, the sound growing louder when you wrap your fingers around him. “Please, Din, I want to cum on your cock.”

It’s a miracle he doesn’t cum right then and there, hearing your words turn filthy. And filthier still as he hauls himself over you, plants one elbow beside your head, looks between you, reaches down to line himself up and—

Freezes.

He can feel your eyes on his face, features pinched with anticipation. Your hands have found homes along his ribs, fingers tapping out rhythmless patterns. Hips lifting, you must see something in his expression, because you move a hand to his chin, lifting his eyes to yours again. “Din,” you say, and a shiver shoots down his spine again at the way his name sounds on your lips. “It’s okay. We can stop, if you need to.”

“No!” he nearly shouts, and feels himself flush, lowering himself slightly, careful not to drop all his weight on you. “No, that’s not what I…I don’t…”

“Don’t what?” you murmur. Your voice is quiet, understanding. You give a soft laugh. “I know you’re not a virgin, but if you don’t want to, it’s okay, I won’t say any—”

“It’s not that,” he cuts you off, petting his hand over your still-damp hair. “I want to. I want you. It’s just that…” He chews at his lip. “No one’s ever seen my face, while we…when I…”

Realization slides through your features. “Oh.”

“Yes.”

“I don’t have to look,” you say quickly, skimming your knuckles along his cheek. “I can turn over, if you like, if that’s easier than—”

“No,” he says, not a shout this time, but firmer. “I want you to see, Sweets.” He drops his chin, emboldened by your softness, your understanding. He kisses you soundly. “I want to kiss you while you cum.” His words pull a silky noise from your throat.

He breaks the kiss as he takes himself in hand, pushes into your dripping cunt. You’re hot, clenching down on him instantly, arms draped around his neck as he lowers himself further, latches his lips to yours. He hitches one of your legs high on his hip, drives into you deep. He had you close on his tongue already, and he rolls his hips hard, catching something deep inside that makes your entire body seize.

“Yes, Din, please, oh gods, please, please, please,” you’re babbling against his lips, one hand pressed flat between his shoulders, the other knotted in the back of his hair. “Yes!”

Just as he said, he kisses you while you cum. He feels it pulse through your body, your limbs taut and then lax, still holding him close. Your hips chase his, cunt clenching tight as a vice, and Din’s not far behind you, pleasure lighting a fuse down his spine.

You pull your lips from his just as he starts to spill in you. Your hand moves to grip his chin, and you force his gaze to yours. He gasps and your mouth mirrors his, lips parted in a soft o, turning to a grin as he grinds into you, painting your insides as deep as he can go. It feels like an implosion, his bones rattled in his body, but then set on the softest bed of silk as he collapses into your chest. You hold him close, petting one hand through his hair, breathing deep and slow until his own evens out, matches yours, until your heartbeat syncs with his.

“Mesh’la?” he calls after a moment, cheek still pressed to your sternum.

“Yes, Din?” you reply, your voice scratchy as your nails start to drag along his scalp. His eyes are heavy.

“I missed you.”

He can hear the smile in your voice. “I missed you too.”

Din wakes alone in your bed again.

He thinks it’s the next morning — the rest of what he assume to be evening was spent in your bed, both of you naked and wrapped in each other. Again and again and again, he pulled pleasure from your body, let you pull it from his, found your bliss together. By the time you were both too tired to move, sprawled on the mattress, your head on his shoulder, you’d whispered, “You’re a good kisser, Din Djarin.” And then you were asleep, Din not too far behind.

He dresses quickly, boxers pulled back on, undershirt in his hand as he pads out of the room. He finds you standing in the kitchen, a steaming cup of caf in your hands. The droid — Shrimp, he dimly recalls — is perched on the table, beeping out a message to you. You’re nodding along, blowing the steam off the top of your caf, and your eyes flick to him as he steps into the kitchen.

“You know Peli Motto?”

Din’s brow crinkles with confusion. “You know Peli?”

You scoff. “That woman taught me everything I know.”

“You’re joking.”

“Swear on my hangar.”

Din just laughs, walking around the table. He slides an arm around your waist once he’s close enough, leans into kiss the side of your head. You lean into him. “Why are we talking about Peli?”

“She sent me a message,” you say, offering him your caf. He takes a sip, only feeling more confused. “Asking if I had any spare ships laying around my hangar. A replacement for her Mandalorian friend.”

Din balks. He hasn’t told you about the Crest. “Sweets…”

You step away from him, pressing a hand to his chest as your eyes go wide with realization. “Din Djarin, what did you do to that ship?”

“I didn’t—”

“Din.”

“It was Imps,” he says, trying to reach for your hip. “It wasn’t—”

“Where is the Razor Crest?”

He sighs heavily, and reaches out to take the cup of caf from you again. “Now it’s nothing but a scorch mark on the planet Tython. It was the Imps. They took my son.” The words are out before he can stop them.

Your eyes go so wide he’s worried they might pop out of your skull. “Your son?”

“It’s a long story.”

You pluck the caf out of his hands, walk around the table, pull out a chair and sink into it. “I got nothing but time.”

#sleepover saturday #my fics #din djarin #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fic #din djarin fic #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin smut #din djarin fluff #din djarin headcanon #din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian smut #the mandalorian fluff #the mandalorian headcanon #the mandalorian fanfiction

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cubarsis · 2 months

Text

—heated sheets | m. guiu paz

synopsis : marc needs to cuddle his girl, but it’s a little too warm for her liking.

Genre : fluff

requests are open 🎀

MARC LAY AWAKE IN THE BED, the oppressive heat of the summer night weighing heavily on him.Despite his girlfriend's presence beside him, he still felt a palpable sense of longing. He shifted closer, hoping for the warmth of her embrace, but she remained resolutely distant.

His heart sank as he realized that she didn't want to cuddle him. The heat, the discomfort-it was all too much for her. He couldn't blame her; after all, she had endured countless sleepless nights because of his insistent need for closeness.

With a heavy heart, Marc resigned himself to the reality of the situation. He turned away, trying to mask the disappointment that gnawed at him from within. Even though she was right there, the distance between them felt insurmountable.

As he lay there, staring at the ceiling in the dim light of the room, a wave of loneliness washed over him.He missed the intimacy they once shared, the simple act of holding each other close through the night.But now, with the summer heat as an unyielding barrier, their connection seemed to falter.

But she lay on her side of the bed, unmoving, the thin sheet barely covering her as she sought respite from the heat. Marc's heart ached with longing as he watched her, knowing that her inability to cuddle was not out of reluctance or indifference, but simply a concession to the sweltering temperatures in Barçelona that enveloped them.

"Please,"

he whispered, reaching out to her, his voice a desperate plea in the darkness.

"I can't sleep without you beside me. Just sleep without the blanket, baby."

"Mmm, it's too hot," her voice murmured from the other side of the bed, barely audible over the hum of the fan.

He sighed heavily, feeling the weight of loneliness settle over him like a heavy quilt. It wasn't just the physical discomfort that plagued him; it was the absence of her warmth, her presence, that left him feeling incomplete.

In the darkness of the night, his thoughts drifted to her, to the way her laughter danced like music in the air and the softness of her touch that could soothe even the deepest of wounds.

But tonight, there was no solace to be found in memories. All he wanted was her by his side, her body pressed against his, sharing in the intimacy and comfort that only a lover's embrace could provide. Yet, he knew the futility of his desires. The summer nights were relentless, the temperatures soaring to unbearable heights that made cuddling an impossible feat.

Marc felt a pang of disappointment. He understood her reluctance; after all, he was well aware of how his body heat seemed to amplify in the summer months. But still, the ache for her closeness persisted, a physical yearning that seemed impossible to ignore.

"Babe, please," he pleaded, his voice tinged with desperation. "I can't sleep without you. I need you here with me."

After what felt like an eternity of silence, Marc felt a shift in the air beside him. He turned to see his girlfriend's silhouette drawing nearer, her arm tentatively reaching out to envelop him in a hesitant embrace.

A rush of relief flooded through him as her warmth enveloped him, and he nestled into her embrace gratefully. But before he could fully relax, her teasing voice cut through the stillness.

"You big baby," she whispered, a playful edge to her tone. "You owe me big time for this."

Marc couldn't help but chuckle at her playful jab, grateful for her willingness to set aside her discomfort for his sake. "I'll make it up to you," he promised, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

She responded with a mock glare, but the corners of her lips twitched with suppressed amusement. "You better," she warned, her fingers tracing lazy circles on his back.

"And no snoring, or I'm kicking you out to the couch."

A silent chuckle left his throat, making her able to feel his chest vibrate as her boyfriend laughs.

He laughed softly, the sound mingling with the soft hum of the fan. "Deal," he agreed, squeezing her hand in his.

The striker is quick to draw her closer into his awaiting arms that have been yearning at least half an hour for his girl's comfortable weight. Glad to finally have convinced his love to snuggle up into his warm body.

"I don't know what it is," Marc murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, "but I just can't seem to settle without you."

His girlfriend's fingers traced soothing patterns on his back as she listened, her presence a comforting weight beside him in the darkness. Marc sighed, the weight of his restlessness pressing down on him like a heavy blanket.

"I toss and turn all night,"

he continued, his words tinged with frustration.

"It's like my body knows you're not here, and it just can't relax."

She squeezed his hand gently, a silent gesture of understanding. Marc shifted closer, seeking solace in the warmth of her touch.

"Thank you," he murmured, smearing a kiss to her neck. "I don't know what l'd do without you."

His girlfriend's laughter filled the room, a melody that chased away the shadows of his worries. "You'll never have to find out," she assured him, pulling him closer until their hearts beat in sync.

hectorth 2024

#ɞ 𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐡 #marc guiu x reader #marc guiu #marc x reader #guiu x reader #Marc guiu paz x reader #marc guiu imagine #fcb x reader #fc barcelona x reader #marc guiu fluff #pedri x reader #pablo gavi x reader

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tarjapearce · 7 months

Note

soccer family Miguel meeting wife’s family for the first time and vice versa?

Oh dear. What a bumpy ride. 🙃

Bit of angst in the end. (Will do her meeting his family later, don't worry ~)

Pt 2 here

Teeth pulled at the inner soft skin on your lips, chewing and biting away the waves of raw anxiety that washed over you.

"Stop that. You'll hurt yourself."

Miguel mumbled as he drove to your family's home. It was an unsettling surprise for you to know that your family wanted to meet him. But what truly surprised you was the fact that they knew.

Ever since you moved out from your family's home at 18, many things stopped happening. Fights, verbal and emotional abuse that went both ways, the constant comparison to your other same age family members and you, and of course, you being pushed around and invalidated.

College was a different kind of freedom for you. And the start of a new life without them. You barely visited them, even skipped the most important holidays to be away from them. In a way, it was thanks to that that you met Jessica. She had been a wonderful support on your life.

"I know... just-"

His large hand covered yours to then give a kiss on the back of your palm

"You'll be fine. And if you don't feel comfortable enough, we can go."

"I'm uncomfortable already and we haven't even arrived yet."

"They can't be that bad"

You deadpanned and sighed.

"Corazón, look. I know family's difficult. I really do, but a couple of hours won't kill you. It's a good chance to prove them wrong."

"I've got nothing to prove them, Miguel."

"Right. Still, won't be a bad idea for them to see you doing fine. Talvez asi se callan el hocico y te dejan en paz" (Maybe that way they'll shut the fuck up and leave you alone)

You giggled at his words.

In truth was that you told him everything, it was sort of sad yet amusing that you bonded over trauma sharing. It was a mutual catharsis that somehow ended up strengthening your relationship. He didn't know them, but for the things you had shared with him, he knew he'd be curt and polite.

You'd warn him about their modus operandi. They'd present themselves as kind and welcoming, but bit by bit the snide and passive aggressive remarks and comments would show up. You had hope that after years of barely visiting they'd change.

Something you were about to find out as he parked outside the colonial looking home.

"No matter what, stay away from the Horchata. My auntie thinks she is good at it but... it's yuck."

He chuckled and soon, you'd get out the car. Miguel rubbed your shoulders soothingly in an attempt to ease your restless nerves.

----

"Buenas gente" (Hey, People)

One of your elder aunts, the only one you truly liked and always supported you back in college came to greet you with a loving hug, "Mija!"

"Hola tía" (Hey auntie)

You hugged her back and mumbled a quick 'I missed you' before letting Miguel come into view.

"Tía, This is Miguel. My boyfriend."

Auntie gasped at the sheer size of him but gave him a gentle smile.

"Nice to meet you, mijo."

"El gusto es mío, madrecita" (The pleasure is mine)

"Oh! He speaks Spanish!"

The two shared a brief laugh as auntie invited you further. With a hand Miguel held a small present, a bottle of your dad's favorite rum and bunch of roses for your mother. and the other one he held your hand.

It seemed like a regular carneada for him, except that this time there wasn't meats to roast, but soup. Your mom's special seafood soup that was only done in special occasions. You could tell it would be difficult to leave emotionally unscathed when your mom and dad, three aunties, two cousins, and your brother were there.

Upon you making an appearance before all of them, the world stopped for a second, your breath was caught in your throat as you mentally prepared for the game of pretense.

"Mi niña! Come here!"

Your dad followed by your brother made the first ones in making an approach. The size difference sure was shocking for them all. Your father and brother had to crane his head up to see Miguel.

"¿Qué tal? Un gusto conocerte." (How's it going? Nice to meet you)

Miguel shook his hand with him firmly, something your dad approved. And then Miguel handed the packaged rum to him.

He had explained how you'd told him about his favorite drink. Your dad invited you and introduced Miguel to the whole family.

Some of your cousins oggled him shamelessly. Earning a frown from you.

However the biggest challenge laid ahead. Your mother had been watching both from afar, tending to the food with some of your aunties.

And when it was her time to be greeted, you held tighter on his hand. His thumb rubbing on your skin, reassuring.

You'll be fine.

"Mamá" You mumbled and her so ever deep stare settled on Miguel. Not even in you first, but Miguel.

"Fo you, Ma'am" Miguel gave her the roses which she took with a strained smile.

"Thank you very much. Miguel was it, right?"

"Así es." (Correct)

"Are you hungry? Made your favorite soup."

Her stalking gaze shifted between Miguel and you.

"Thanks. A bit would be nice."

"Hm. Go sit, Miguel. We'll tend to this."

Her gaze returned to the food and you nodded at him. He wasn't comfortable with the idea to just sit and watch. But by the things you had told him, it was better to not create unnecessary drama for you.

-----

Everyone seemed at the expectance of something happening between you and your mother. Your brother was trying to make casual conversation with Miguel, but his curt and simple answers made him desist. Plus, it didn't help his mahogany eyes seemed lighter.

If they were nervous about him looking so big with deep red eyes, they'd surely freak out by his fangs. It instantly made your stomach churn, you knew Miguel didn't appreciate people pointing at his insecurities so brazenly, even worse without knowing him.

Everyone sat down, a little blessing before anything and soon the feast begun.

Of course, eyes were settled on both of you and your interactions. Miguel followed your instructions to then help you break the crab.

One of your aunties smiled at it.

"So, Miguel, where do you work?"

Here we go

"Lab Manager at Alchemax."

Your brother whistled and nodded approvingly, just like your father.

Your relationships with him sure was strained, but at least he seemed to have a bit more self criterion than the rest when it came to pick sides. You'd rather him neutral. Just like your dad.

"Wow, you surely outdid yourself this time, cariño."

That cariño sat sickly fake in your stomach. She was the one that always instigated the fights further when you thought everything would calm down. You didn't smile, just ate.

Miguel was given a beer, a round of collective gasps as he tried to open the beer with his fangs. Your other auntie made a cross sign on herself and your mother's eyes widened.

A custom you still couldn't get out of him.

"Do they hurt?"

"How does one get those? They look so cool!"

"Are they comfortable?"

Your eyes caught the glimpse of him tightening his grip on the spoon.

"Ya pues!" (Knock it off!)

"There is no need to yell"

Silence immediately came to the table as your gaze and your mother's clashed.

"Disculpa eso, Miguel." (Im sorry for that, Miguel)

your dad shook his head at your cousins.

"Do you plan on having kids?"

You couldn't help but hide your face in your palm.

"Mamá, stop."

"What? I just wanna know! You're getting old enough to have kids. And Emanuel is always asking about you."

"We haven't discussed it yet." Miguel cleaned his hands with lemon, rinsing away the fishy smell out of his fingers. The coldness in his voice only matched your mom's icy stare.

"Oh."

"But do you want to have kids, Miguel?"

"Dios mío, ma! Ya basta." (My god, Mom! Enough.)

"Why are you so mad over a question?"

Miguel's jaw clenched. It made sense for him why you didn't visit. The way you rolled your eyes, made the ones that had finished already to stand up and leave. Their cue to leave things unfold.

Your elder auntie seized your mom with a glare. Your dad only recoiled to himself and your brother sighed.

"Ma, eso no se pregunta." The only attempt of him to calm the boiling tension between the two. (Mom, you don't ask such things)

Miguel gave you a 'do you wanna go now' stare. And you shook your head. Leaving would only make things worse. But you found the perfect excuse to leave the table.

"Need help, mi amor?"

"Sure."

He was perceptive to pick up your cues, the both cleared up the table and took the dishes to the sink.

---

"I'm so sorry you had to put up with it." You mumbled as you washed and he dried. The kitchen felt tiny for him.

"S'fine."

"Are you mad?"

"A bit uncomfortable. But no, not mad."

"We're leaving after we're done here." a deep sigh escaped your lips, "This is exactly why I don't come here."

"Whose Emanuel?" You groaned and shook your head.

"A man mom thought it was fun to pair me with a long time ago. I never indulged him but he never got the memo ever since I left this place"

"Sounds like he never got over you."

"Yeah, cause mom kept feeding his hopes of me getting with him together."

"Is that why you moved out?"

"One of the reasons, yeah."

You finished the dishes and Miguel excused himself to the bathroom.

He could hear the voices from the other side. One of your aunts surely and your mom.

"I give them a year."

"Did you see his... fangs? I've never seen something like that! And his eyes too!"

"Esta niña... Me va a sacar canas verdes. From all The guys she could pick, she gets one that is twice her size. Why she can't pick up normal guys?" (This girl, will get me green hairs)

Miguel's eyes turned apprehensive as his mouth settled in a straight line.

He had to hunch over the sink to take a look of himself in the mirror. He looked pretty normal, by any standards, until of course, he smiled. Pointy canines bigger than the average people stood out the most. His eyes were a different shade of brown. That was all.

He was fine.

He was normal.

He knew things like this would happen, he expected a bit of trouble. Not this.

His head felt heavy. Sudden spiral thoughts plagued his mind, corrupting the good things he held dear in his mind.

"As long as he's rich, don't care."

"Emanuel's surely richer than him"

That was the final straw. He knew you weren't that type of woman. Hell, you had invited him multiple times, knowing that you'd get broke for a couple of weeks. And still did it anyways. You loved to pamper him.

Why?

His steps guided him back to you. You were stressed and surely would cry at night. But so far you were keeping it together.

Your heart sunk a bit when looking at him. Neither of the both could stand being a second longer in the house. He followed you as you said your goodbyes. You didn't hug none but your elder aunt, and your dad, though the latter got an awkward hug.

You went back home. Neither of you said much during the trip back.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #soccer family ⚽🕷️#t writes✨#Pre Soccer Family ⚽🕷️

571 notes · View notes

cher-rei · 2 months

Note

gavi long distance + secret relationship smau??? if you do end up writing this can you please tag me

in between— pablo gavi smau [ P.G ]

pairing: pablo gavi x fem!reader

masterlist

notes: this one actually broke me a little, like it wasn't even that deep so why am I sad for them😭😭💔 @weekendlusting (translated spanish!!)

isa.bella

liked by pablogavi and 678 876 others

isa.bella cerca de allí... ✈️💌 (nearly there...)

see all comments below

user you're so pretttyyy I'm going insane

user travel vlog time!! it's been a hot minute

bsf.name ¿adónde esta vez? 😉 (where to this time?) [liked by isa.bella]

→ isa.bella ¿¿dónde más?? (where else?)

user are we collectively going to ignore gavi in her likes...? [liked by isa.bella]

isa.bella

liked by pedri and 762 123 others

isa.bella hogar📍 (home)

see all comments below

user ahhh she's back in barcelona !!

pedri mucho tiempo sin verte😊 (long time no see) [liked by isa.bella]

→ isa.bella estoy muy feliz de estar de vuelta hermano (I'm so happy to be back bro)

pablogavi me encantan las flores🌷 (I love the flowers) [liked by isa.bella]

→ isa.bella gracias, mi novio me lo consiguió. (thanks, my boyfriend got them for me)

pablogavi

liked by ferminlopez and 987 182 122 others

pablogavi mi lugar favorito 💕 (my favourite place)

see all comments below

ferminlopez ¿te perdiste la noche de juegos por esto? (you missed game night for this?)

→ pablogavi cualquier día (anyday)

user bro has the whole of twitter trying to figure out who this is??

user shut up gavi said it's his cousin😭😭

user we're about to pull up like the fbi. I need anything at this rate

isa.bella

liked by bsf.name and 563 122 others

isa.bella noche de cita 🍿🌙 (date night)

see all comments below

user you have a boyfriend??

user guys she's wifed up, what do we do😭

user I wanted to say that he looks kinda familiar but I'm probably tripping due to the shock

user if you need me I'll be getting my P.I on this

→ user I'll be waiting for the twitter thread

pablogavi

liked by ferrantorres and 986 299 224 others

see all comments below

pablogavi 🤍

ferrantorres disfrútalo mientras dure hermano 😂 (enjoy it while it lasts bro)

→ pablogavi por favor no me lo recuerdes 😭 (please don't remind me)

pedri ahora vas a estar deprimido por los próximos 5 meses. de nuevo. (now you're going to be depressed for the next 5 months. again.) [liked by pablogavi]

user oh yeah this is so his cousin

user I bet my right kidney that it's @isa.bella

→ user wait... that actually makes sense

→ user guys it's just his cousin pleaaseeee. this boy does not have the time for relationships

user where's the twitter thread girl??

isa.bella

liked by bsf.name and 568 297 988 others

isa.bella me acaban de recordar que me iré pronto. voy a vomitar (just got reminded that i'm leaving soon. i'm going to throw up)

user hold up 😃

user didn't ferran say something about gavi having to enjoy his last few days???

→ user bro I'm gonna fjdjdjdj

user ain't no way. I don't believe it

user the twitter thread is being made!! my P.I is working overtime

isa.bella

liked by bsf.name and 766 976 976 others

isa.bella vale, se acabó la broma, quiero recuperar a mi novio. 😃💔 (okay the joke's over, I want my boyfriend back.)

bsf.name solo 5 meses más nena 😫 (just 5 more months babe)

→ isa.bella déjame en paz estoy de duelo 🥲 (leave me alone, im grieving)

user nooooo my favourite couple

user I've been so invested in this relationship the past few weeks. my heart is actually breaking rn 😭💔

user not the long distance relationship 😭

user someone check gavi's insta!!!

pablogavi

liked by pedri and 873 828 282 others

pablogavi hora de reiniciar la cuenta regresiva 🥲 (time to restart the countdown)

user shut up the screenshot of their text!! I'm crying I can't do this

user me and who...?

pedri al menos esto te motiva a jugar bien 😭 (at least this gives you motivation to play well) [liked by pablogavi]

user the twitter thread is up!!

user bro beat the cousin allegations

#footballer imagine #fanfic #footballer x reader #footballer x you #football imagine #pablo gavi fanfic #pablo gavi x reader #pablo gavi imagine #pablo gavi #pablo gavi smau #footballer smau #fc barcelona imagine #fc barça #fc barcelona x reader #cherrei rambles #cherrei writes

197 notes · View notes

piggyinthesea · 5 months

Text

The Night After Monaco

part 2 of this fic

pairing: charles leclerc x reader, max verstappen x reader

word count: idk prolly more than 2k

warnings: shouting, smut, messy charles, stress, anxiety, fluff, kind of sugar daddy charles, max being desperate, gaslighting

summary: charles teaches you things you didn’t know about yourself he shows you what it means to truly be taken care of. but, does this mean things are really done with max?

Son las cinco 'e la mañana y yo no he dormido nada

It’s 5 in the morning and I haven’t slept at all

Pensando en tu belleza, en loco voy a parar

Thinking of your beauty, going to end up crazy

El insomnio es mi castigo, tu amor será mi alivio

Insomnia is my punishment, your love is my relief

Y hasta que no seas mía no viviré en paz

And until your mine, I won’t live in peace

There’s always someone watching. Every time you do something there’s always someone or something watching. You realized that when you found a post on Instagram about the other night.

f1exlusiveupdates

f1exlusiveupdates: Charles Leclerc, ferrari driver, spotted leaving an exclusive club with company shortly after his Monaco Gp win. No images including the female’s face.

↳ user233 just a hook up, not a big deal.

↳ charlesismybf it’s me guys, I’m the female☺️

↳ formula1luver baby come home the kids miss you

327 comments 15,000 likes

Charles had sent the article to you that had been posted that same evening with a message asking to talk. It shouldn’t have bothered you the way it did but, you became extremely anxious to hear what he had to say.

The moment Charles’s had woken up he was met with a text from his brother, Arthur. Arthur had sent the article with an abundance of questions of who, what, when, why. After Arthur persisted, Charles had told him everything.

He explained your situation, the ‘break’, and he even threw in the hickey on Max’s neck to ease it all. Arthur had nothing to say. His moral compass was being challenged and he didn’t know whether the whole thing was right or wrong.

1. It was Max’s idea to take the break.

2. The relationship was already running its course (Due to mainly Max’s fault).

3. Max cheated on you too.

He explained to Charles that it wasn’t right to take his chance with you right after taking a break knowing you were vulnerable and just needed a friend, however, technically speaking he did nothing wrong. Charles definitely needed to talk to you and figure out what exactly was going on and what the both of you intended to do. He had an entire speech prepared. He wanted to ask you if you’d consider pursing a relationship with him. He understood that it’ll definitely cause a scandal and he planned to assure you he could take it as slow as you wanted to. He wanted to tell you he didn’t see you as just ‘a hook up’. He wanted a deep and meaningful relationship with you, if you’d let him attain one.

However, his speech was forgotten and completely eradicated from his brain when he saw you. You wore a simple outfit. A graphic t-shirt with jeans. Yet, you still knocked the breath out of him.

For a moment he didn’t know what to say. “Hey.”

You awkwardly smile. Your anxiety was booming and him looking so gorgeous did not help you. You had already mentally prepared yourself for rejection.

“Hi.”

You let him in and the both of you begin walking towards the couch in the living room. Awkward silent moments pass. Still, no one had said anything and the both of you stayed staring at each other.

“H-“

“Y-”

You cut each other off.

“You go first.”

“No, sorry you go first.” He says with his cheeks burning up.

“I understand if the other night was just something casual to you. And I’m sorry about the article.” You ramble. You didn’t mean to cause a scandal and make things messy for him. You hoped he didn’t hold anything against you.

“It wasn’t casual! Sorry. Sharing that night with you was so amazing. I want more of that. I know it’ll be extremely hard for you but, if you’d have me, I’d enjoy a serious relationship with you.” He quickly states, mentally cussing himself out for acting a fool.

His words take a few moments to process. You hadn’t considered the possibility that he’d want a relationship with you. Maybe it was because you had low-self worth but being in a public relationship with Charles scared you. His fan base was crazy.

The internet would have a field day if they had ever found out you have a relationship with Charles. They’d call you out kinds of names. Slut, whore, homie-hopper. You could see it clearly. “I don’t know if having a relationship would be the best idea. I don’t even know if I still have one. And besides the internet-”

“Forget about the internet. Do you want me?”

You answered within a flash, “Yes.”

“We shouldn’t let it the internet rule our lives. They won’t understand, but at least we’ll have each other.” He reaches towards your hands and holds them together, “Ma belle, I promise we can take it as slow as you need to.”

His eyes silently pleaded at you. He looked at you with his big brown eyes and long eyelashes. He was irresistible and oh-so-pretty. He acted as if he expected you to say no. How could you though? When he looked at you with longing and passion the way he was doing right now…it’d be hard to ever say no.

“Okay. But first I need to talk to Max. We never officially broke up.”

“Of course.” Before leaving, he pulls you in and leans forward. His lips feel soft against yours. A simple act of affection is so tempting and before the kiss is deepened, he pulls away and leaves your flat.

You knew what you had to do now. You dreaded every second of it but you texted Max.

vroom vroom

come over, we need to talk.

I’ll be there in a couple minutes

read 2:03 pm

It didn’t take long for the door to your pad ring. Each step you took as you walked closer and closer made you feel extremely uneasy. The door knob felt sticky against your sweaty hands.

Max stood in front of you with a bouquet of flowers. Without asking, he let himself in (a perfect reminder that he’s been here plenty of times before and this might as well been his second home).

“These are for you. I decided to forgive you and move on. Look, we can just forget this ever happened.” He handed the bouquet of flowers to you. You stood confused, yet you quickly became agitated the moment his words process.

“You forgive me?” You questioned, daring him to elaborate.

“Are you serious right now- look, I didn’t come here to fight. Baby, I don’t want our relationship to end. Don’t end this because of one mistake you did.” He says in a condescending tone.

The nerve of him. There’s no possible way he believes he’s still in the right. For fucks sake, he still has a hickey from another woman on his neck yet he’s coming to you as if you were the one in the wrong.

“My mistake? Max you have a fucking hickey from another woman on your neck. You don’t think this has anything to do with you?”

At this point, you were seriously debating throwing his shit-bouquet at him. He remained speechless, standing like a dumb ass waiting for another word to come out of your mouth. “You know what just leave. We’re done .” You angrily push him out and (gladly) shut the door.

You let out a huge sigh and ran both hands through your hair, frustrated as ever.

y/ninstagramuser has unfollowed maxverstappen1

y/ninstagramuser has followed charles_leclerc

charles_leclerc has followed y/ninstagramuser

It was only half an hour you’ve unfollowed Max until you heard a notification from Charles. It was a link…to yet again another gossip article. You physically groaned and mentally prepared yourself to get bashed.

formulaonebestgossip

formulaonebestgossip: Has the beloved grid couple broke up? Evidence to back this claim up consists of the fact that Y/n had just recently unfollowed Max. No posts from either party has been released confirmed this.

↳ user288 highly doubt this lol

↳ redbulll24 prolly was an accident since he still follows her🤷‍♀️

↳ user444 wait, does anybody know if Y/n followed Charles before this? I just checked and they’re both following each other 🌚

replying to user444 I think so? I’m not sure tbh but it doesn’t make sense why she would follow him after all this time

replying to user444 she definitely didn’t, I remember cause I used to stalk her followers all the time

8,600 comments 20.6k likes

3 familiar bubble dots popped up on your chat with Charles. After what seemed like a minute or so, they disappeared. Then, they came back.

charles🫠

did you break up with him?

yeah, he says he still wants to work things out though.

…do you want to?

Nope.

Good.

I want to take you out.

what if someone sees us?

If that’s something you’re worried about, I can work around that. I told you, the other night wasn’t just causal.

Okay then. I’d love to go out with you☺️

I’ll send you the details ❤️

seen 12:04 pm

Suddenly, you were in high school all over again having a schoolgirl crush. It didn’t take long for Charles to let you know the time he would pick you up tomorrow. You were excited and weirdly intrigued. What type of date could either of you go on where the public wouldn’t see you?

max v.

why’d you unfollow me?

because we’re not dating anymore ??

we’re not done. I’ll have you again, for sure. 😴

what the hell weirdo. don’t make me block you.

seen 12:26 pm

Without thinking of how Charles would feel, you took a screenshot and sent it to him. Within seconds, Charles replied.

Charles🫠

I’ll make you forget him tomorrow, don’t worry sweetheart.

oh yeah? how so?

First, I’d fuck you dumb on my private jet we’re taking tomorrow. No one else would be around, so it’d be just the two of us. Then, we’ll look through online lingerie shops together while you’re sitting on my lap as I picture you wearing them. I’ll make sure you always have something pretty. Maybe I’ll even get you some nice Versace heels for funsies. By the end of the day, you’ll probably memorize my bank digits. Not that I mind, as long as I get to see you wear the stuff you’ve bought.

are you alone?

why, are you touching yourself?

can you answer my question first?

Yes, im alone. Now you answer mine.

Of course I am. I feel like you say the right words to get me going on purpose.

No, it wasn’t on purpose. How was I supposed to know you were that needy?

I’m sorry

Don’t be sorry, I love when your needy for me baby. Tell me how your touching yourself.

I have my fingers in my shorts. They don’t feel as good as you though. My body misses you.

I bet it does. Don’t worry though, I’ll see you tomorrow princess. Can you insert a finger into yourself?

I did it. I wish it was you instead :(

Don’t be sad, ma belle. Just keep touching yourself.

I’m close Charles. I wish you were here.

keep touching yourself sweetie.

I didn’t come. Max texted me.

Can you block him for me, cheríe? With the cherry on top.

Of course, anything for you.

Thank you 💗. I have to go but I’ll talk to you soon.

liked message

You felt as if you’d been robbed from you high. The pleasure you’ve felt until the moment Max texted you was something you’ve never experienced by just merely looking at words on a screen.

Max was still ‘asking’ to start over. Yet, it was something about the way he said it that proved he still truly didn’t think he did nothing wrong. He pointed the faults at you and hasn’t realized his own mistakes in the process. This had got you second guessing. What if you really were the one in the wrong? You quickly shook the thought away and scrolled through Instagram.

Nothing interesting had happened today and so you took a small walk around your neighborhood before returning back, sweaty and tired. When you arrived to your door, a large bouquet of flowers sat in the door step. It didn’t take much to figure out they were from Max. You like being gifted things. Receiving gifts was your gift language, something you’ve told Max plenty of times, yet only now he’s doing the gifting. You ponder for a moment. Maybe it was because of how pretty the flowers were that you began to second guess yourself. You looked at the pink wrapping and the white roses decorated with golden butterflies and fairy lights. You wondered if you’d been to hard on Max.

You tossed the flowers onto your couch, not caring about the fragility of them. The rest of the day had been spent with updates from Charles, who had been attending formula 1 meetings all day long. Once night came, you texted your good nights to each other and went to bed.

It didn’t take long for the sun to rise and finches to start singing. The color of the sky had been a beautiful light blue color with cotton candy shaped clouds. You got up and splashed water on your face and rubbed your inner eye boogers away. The time read 11:49 am as you checked your phone. No new notifications other than Charles good morning text had been sent to you, sadly. It’s your own fault for having no social life.

Since Charles was meant to pick you up at 1:30, you had a decent amount of time to get ready. You picked a white summer dress with spaghetti straps and floral prints. It reached towards your mid thigh, enough to be slightly scandalous yet still long enough to remain a proper dress for any occasion. For jewelry, you opted to a small pearl necklace and shiny small earrings. The shoes you were white platform 3 inch heels with a cute lace ankle buckle strap. After putting on light make up, it was 10 minutes until 1:30 and someone knocked on your door.

You fully expected it to be Charles, until it wasn’t. Max was standing in front of your door once again with a plain light blue button up and navy jeans.

“Where are you going looking so pretty?” Max stares at your body with intent as leaned against the door frame. A voice behind him spoke to him,

“She’s going with me.” Charles held a luxurious looking box and he pushed himself in front of Max and passed it to you.

Inside, there was about 50 small cut roses mixed in with a couple pink roses to make a heart effect. The black box had a bow around it. The brand was in another language you couldn’t pronounced in a gold and Italian style.

“These are beautiful, Charles.” You pressed a kiss to his cheek as Max had burned holes through his back.

“Those are okay. Where are mines though?” Max desperately looked through doorframe into the apartment.

“Somewhere on the couch. Probably dead by now.” You said, locking the door behind you and holding Charles hand. “We have somewhere to be, don’t we?”

He nods in agreement as you guys begin to walk away from Max who still stood in front of your apartment.

Click📸

The ride to the airport was talks about each others childhood and teenage years. His hand rested upon your thigh as he drove with his other arm. You’d found out Charles had 2 siblings. One older and another younger. He asked questions about, where you grew up, where your family’s from, and asked questions about your job. Your mother was a well-known model in the 80’s, so with the amount of traveling, you technically grew up everywhere. Naturally, you pursued a career in modeling. People loved you. Not because of your ‘beauty’ but many say it was the way you carried yourself and how you manipulated the energy around you to feel comforting and safe. Some called you a nepo baby, but really, that’s just what they want to believe. You believed modeling was made for you. You loved the sponsered gifts from extravagant brands, the free beauty products, the party invitations, traveling, but overall it was the way you felt on the runway that won your heart. Some may argue you were a little too materialistic, but if there’s no harm in it, what’s the problem? Max was sweet, most of the time, during your relationship. Though there was this one time, he ‘jokingly’ called you a gold digger. It was one of those phrases that just stuck with you for some reason. You didn’t believe it. You rarely asked for him to buy you stuff and so you were just confused, not offended. Besides, you had your own money. If there wasn’t a man to spoil yourself, you’d do it yourself. As you arrived to the port, Charles took a different entrance than the regular one. He pulled into a large lot with big green hangars in a row, each holding a different jet. There was only one jet outside the hangar. It was standard size yet smaller than the average public jet and by the looks of it ready to go on any command. Boarding the jet and taking off didn’t take long however the cocktails that you’ve both ordered did.

The attendee had finally returned with the cocktails and before drinking, you and Charles clinked your glasses. His hand rested on your thigh and you asked, “Where are we going?”

“Las Vegas. I was hoping you’d attend attend the gp there.” He said. He lightly traced circles around your thigh. You felt small shockwaves of electricity shooting towards your core. Even though he sat right next to you, you felt as if you were so far from each other.

“Don’t you think it’s too soon? The internet thinks Max and I only broke up barely a week ago.” You said, looking into his eyes while scanning his reaction.

“But…” his hand inches closer to your inner thighs, “I want to see you.” He quietly pleads into your ears as his hands travel further and further. There was an urge in your core begging him to go further, like it was thriving off his touch. His hands caress your inner thigh, squeezing them and teasingly brushing over your panties. One of his hands reach your head and pulls you in a breath taking kiss. It was deep and slow yet it was enough to get your heart beating like crazy. His other hand reached towards the inside of your dress, snapping the band of your panties against you in a teasing manner. He pulled away, grabbing your hand and lifting you from your seat towards his lap.

You sat on his lap, facing towards him while your legs were in an M position sticking out. Your heads clashed as your mouths merged together, intensifying the feeling in your crotch. His hands felt like fire as they traveled from your thighs to your waist. He ran them slowly up your waist during your kiss and then slightly pushes you further down his lap, letting you feel his hard-on. You feel your core soaking up and you find yourself wishing you were doing more than tongue kissing. Not breaking from the kiss, you grind down on him and as a result a soft groan left his mouth. “You drive me so crazy.” He whimpers, eyes never leaving you.

“I sure hope so.” You tell him, hands trailing down his chest down towards his crotch. He looks at you daringly, gasping when you cup his clothed crotch and slowly pull down the zipper to his pants. You take his member out, admiring the beauty that laid in front of you. His pink almost red tip with pre-cum sliding down looked so perfect in your hands. You slowly massage him up and down. He tilts his hand back and lets out a pornagraphic moan.

You suddenly let go of his shaft to turn around. With your back facing his face, you pulled down your panties and raised your pretty summer dress, flashing your ass for just a moment before aligning yourself to him. You sit down on him and instinctively the both of you let out noises of pleasure. You feel him slowly filling you up more and more until you finally sink down all the way. You begin to grind forward before you sharply get pushed back down.

“Stay still.” Charles warns you. “Let’s get you a new wardrobe.” You confusedly wait for Charles to pull out his laptop and place it in the movable table in front of you guys. He types in his passcode and searches up, ‘Victoria Secret’.

“Each set you get, you’re allowed to move once.” He whispers to your ear then pulled the computer closer towards you.

“But I want to move already.” You begged and whined.

“Then start shopping, baby.”

You scrolled down the page, quickly browsing to add the first thing you see into your cart. The first set was a light red pretty coquette set. The bra had beautiful lace designs with a tiny bow in the middle of your breasts.

“Wouldn’t you look so pretty in that?” He says, trapping your hips and grinding on his dick, finally creating some sort of friction for you. You were craving more movement by the second and so you glued your eyes to the screen.

The next set was a navy blue set that had a strap design around your hips. As you were about to add it to your cart Charles stops you, “You’d look absolutely beautiful in this but, I don’t like the color blue.”

You whined but continued scrolling until you found a maroon 3-piece lingerie set. It had heart shaped garters around the thighs and another connecting to your stomach with the ring of the garter stopping in the middle of your stomach, where your belly button was at. Charles had hummed in approval and moved your hips up and down with his hands stuck on your waist.

This had gone for what you thought was eternity. At the end there were 17 sets of lingerie in Charles cart which he had pay for (happily). The sets ranged from dark to light shades of red with the occasional pastel purple sets. It got to a point where you got so desperate that you outsmarted his game. You filtered the results the block all blue sets and after you started spam pressing ‘add to cart’.

After your post-orgasm bliss wore off, you had excused yourself to the restroom and roughly cleaned yourself up. You returned from the restroom and sat in your original seat next to Charles. He took your hand and entwined it with his. He rubbed circles around your hand before pressing a kiss to the top of your head. It didn’t take very much for the two of your to fall asleep, hands still entwined lovingly.

Charles had woken up groggily and let go of your hand to rub his eyes. He looked out his window seat into the dark sky and reached into his pocket for his phone. He grabbed it, only to find out it was yours. Yet something had caught his eyes. You had a message from a random number.

1+400-765-3479

Unblock me, Y/n.

He wasn’t sure who this was at first, then something in his brain clicked. He needed to be sure, though.

who’s this?

Max.

Charles had physically laughed. A little part of him wanted to show his claim on you yet there was still a rational part in him begging him not to be messy. Except, Charles is a messy person. Without a blink, he grabbed your hand and entwined it with his. He took your phone, took a picture, and sent the photo to Max. Max left him on read for the remainder of the flight.

A firm hand on your shoulder shook you awake. You learned outwards to the window and saw a bright blue sky then you looked to the right and saw Charles smiling at you.

“Morning, cheríe. We’ve landed, let’s go.” He said, gathering his carry on bag. You gathered all strength to get up and walk down the hoarding stairs. You felt a pit of hunger dwelling in your stomach and you suddenly wished you had ate before the flight.

“I have a special day for us. We’re going to this beautiful private beach and I’ve had someone set up a small picnic for us. You’ll like the beach, it’s beautiful.” He says, holding your hand down the stairs. His infamous ferrari was only a couple meters away.

“How come we didn’t come in that car on the way here?” You asked, curiously.

“Well, I had to ship it out here so I sent it out earlier than when we left. That’s why.”

You let out an ‘oh’ as he opened the door to the passenger side for you. He gets in his seat, turning on the roaring engine and drives out of the port. As always, his hand rests on your thigh rubbing circles into your skin. A sudden realization hits you.

“I didn’t pack any clothes.” You say, looking at him in disbelief.

“I didn’t either. We’ll hit the mall after we get to the beach.” He says, unworried.

The drive towards the beach was fairly quick. You figured it was because the port was close to the ocean. He pulled into what looked like a cliff only to surprise you by stepping off the cliff into well hidden stairs. The stairs were narrow and so he reached backwards to guide your hand down and ensure your safety. The stairs were long and risky yet you made it down with no issues. At the bottom, there was a small booth with a worker in it, giving a small nod towards Charles. Charles continues guiding you into the sand and he leads you to a gorgeous picnic set up. There was a white blanket across the sand with pillows placed elegantly in front of a white small table.

The table was placed under the shade of a white with hints of beige umbrella. China plates were set on the table with napkins on top of them shaped in elaborate designs. There was 2 fairly large wooden basket and a glass of wine next to it.

“How did you set this up?” You asked, walking around the beautiful set up. He sat down and you mimicked his actions.

“My brother’s in the country. I paid him to do it. I thought he would’ve just did something simple but he impressed me.” He reached towards the wooden basket. “Let’s see what he chose for our lunch.”

Inside the first basket, there were endless fruits such as watermelon, grapes, cherries, dragon fruit, and pineapple. Two silver sporks were set in the side of the basket along with extra sets of napkins. In the other basket there was plenty ingredients for a do-your-own sub. Two butter knives were also included. One to spread the mayo and another to cut the 2 medium sized baguettes.

The two of you began making your own, adding the right ingredients to satisfy your taste buds. You munched on your subway sandwiches until they finished, then the two of you fixed yourselves a plate of fruits. A comfortable silence was shared between the two of you as you took in the view in front of you.

Charles had pulled out 2 wine glasses and opened the wine bottle letting out a loud ‘pop’. The red liquid poured beautifully into the glass cups. Within moments, the two of you clinked your glasses and drank the liquid. You ached to be closer to Charles and so you moved yourself to his side. He wrapped of his arms around you and continued sipping the wine with the other.

“This is beautiful, Charles.” You murmur softly. He holds you tighter in response.

“You know I really like you?” He says, while staring off into the ocean. His eyes move to you only to find you already staring at him.

“I really like you too.”

He places a kiss on your head. “I hope one day we can walk through the entrance of the paddock holding hands in front of everyone.”

Your heart warms up. You’ve never felt happier than you do right now and you find yourself hoping that maybe, just maybe, you’ll be able to maintain this happiness forever.

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen #f1 #formula one #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x female reader #girljournal #smut #sugarbaby

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sourbinnie · 10 months

Text

☆ beso.mp3 ☆

♡ genre ¿? ♡ -> fluff ♡ pair ¿? ♡ -> ot8!skz x gn!reader ♡ plot ¿? ♡ -> voicemails they leave you when they miss you on tour. ♡ warnings ¿? ♡ -> cursing ; no use of (y/n) ♡ request ¿? ♡ -> nope

a/n: short one but sweet one, hope yall like it:) haven't written "voicemails" in a while!

yo quiero que me de' otro beso

"baby, baby i miss you so fucking much. i might be a little drunk and a little needy as a treat but i can't help but think of you and i need you here. it's been too fucking long since i've last seen you even if we speak to each other every day, i can't get enough of you. i need to hold you and kiss you, feel you against me whatever way you want it to be of course. i don't know why i suddenly got the need to just be buried in your arms and for you to hold me tight, hope i can see you soon and tell you that i love you because i can't take it anymore. goodnight darling..."

- voicemail from hyunjin.

uno de esos que tú me da'

"i need your kiss. i know it's abrupt to start a voice message like this but i've been wanting to kiss you ever since i left and i gave you the last one at the airport. i hope i get all of the kisses i deserve when i come back and that you're taking care of our children. i hope you know that i miss you so much and that even if i don't show it at times, i've been so clingy for your affection. i can't wait to cuddle you again, to hug you and not let you. like i said before, save all those kisses for me because i'm coming for them all when i get back and you will not get rid of me."

- voicemail from minho.

estar lejos de ti e' el infierno

"i'm not used to being this far away from you. maybe i'm not the most affectionate person or the one that says the most romantic things but i feel the need to show you that i still love you. i want you forever and ever, no turning back now because i knew when i found you that i would want what you make me feel for the rest of my life. right now it's hell being away and not having your embrace, your eyes looking at me or your sweet kiss on my cheek. i want to hear you say that you're proud of me after every show. i just need to hear you again or i'll go insane."

- voicemail from seungmin.

'tar cerca de ti es mi paz

"it's been stressful and i feel it even more now that we're far. i remember when i had to go to australia and i wanted to take you so bad, it's the same today. i want you here and for you to experience what i live for, what i'm passionate about and what i need. but i also need you, need your love and affection because it's the one thing that keeps me calm. when i'm burying myself in work and drowning, you're there to take my hand and i think i haven't been appreciative enough of it. so thank you, i love you to the moon and back baby."

- voicemail from chan.

y es que amo siempre que llegas

"how long till we see each other again? i want you. i wanna be with you right now yet we're so far, i don't wanna forget you so i keep reminding myself of your habits. your smile follows me everywhere i go and it shines so bright, your eyes are the only ones i look for in the crowd. i wish you could come by one day, i wanna see you there supporting me and having the time of your life with your friends. you would look so cute in our merch and with our lightstick that i'm almost getting you tickets to the next show. we'll see what i can do baby."

- voicemail from felix.

y odio cuando te vas

"i had a dream, well it was more like me remembering how we said goodbye. i fucking hated it and i don't wanna live that ever again, next time you're coming with me to every part of the world that i'll take you. i want you right beside me, i want to see you and just be captivated by your beauty because that happens every time i take a look at you. you can call me cheesy all you want but i'm so in love with you and i know we haven't talked about it but i need to buy a ring soon. spoiling the surprise? yeah but i don't care, i hope you say yes though."

- voicemail from changbin.

yo me voy contigo a matar

"i might be too young for love like a lot of people say. i might be a little too naive or too persistent but when i approached you for the first time, i knew i would do anything for you. even right now when we're in a relationship, i feel the need to please you, to love you, to show you that you're worth it because you are so much more than what you show. i didn't see a future where i would be loved but right now i can see us everywhere and i think that's the thing i miss about you the most. i'll do anything to have you here so i'll try my best to get you something, alright?"

- voicemail from jeongin.

no me dejes solo, ¿pa' dónde vas, pa' dónde vas?

"i haven't been alone in such a long time. i'm used to having your presence by my side 24/7 and now it's weird not seeing you beside me. i know i have everyone from the boys to the crew but i miss my sunshine, you know? i miss the one that keeps me going. yeah i never told you that but you're the reason i wake up every day as happy as i am. even right now the bed feels so cold without you and it's not the same as the one at home, if only i could close the distance. i think i would hug you, kiss you and love you like i haven't done before..."

- voicemail from jisung.

#sourbinnie #skz imagines #skz songfics #skz short imagines #skz drabbles #skz scenarios #skz #stray kids #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids drabbles #stray kids imagines #skz fluff #skz x you #stray kids fluff #stray kids scenarios

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marivenah · 1 year

Text

OC Appearance Survey

tagged by the beloveds @natesofrellis @thomrainer and @leviiackrman to do this fun little game about my clown's appearances! thank you! <;33

no pressure tags; @sstewyhosseini @hoesephseed @aceghosts @poeti-kat @adelaidedrubman @dihardys @risingsh0t @indorilnerevarine @roofgeese @lethal-justice @josephslittledeputy @confidentandgood @ghastlyrider @socially-awkward-skeleton @purplehairsecretlair @shadowglens and anyone who wants to tag me!

Rules: BOLD (and/or color) what applies to your muse. Repost, don’t reblog. Feel free to add words!

BODY

Long legs. Short legs. Average legs. Slender thighs. Thick thighs. Muscular thighs. Skinny arms. Soft arms. Muscular arms. Lean arms. Toned stomach. Flat stomach. Flabby Stomach. Soft stomach. Six-pack. Beer belly. Lean frame. Beefy/muscular frame. Voluptuous frame. Petite frame. Lanky frame. Short nails. Long nails. Manicured nails. Dirty nails. Small breast. Average breast. Big breast. Flat ass. Toned ass. Bubble butt. Small waist. Thick waist. Narrow hips. Average hips. Wide hips. Big feet. Average feet. Small feet. Soft feet. Slender feet. Calloused hands. Soft hands. Big hands. Average hands. Small hands. Long fingers. Short fingers. Average fingers. Narrow shoulders. Broad shoulders. Average shoulders. Underweight. Average weight. Overweight.

HEIGHT

Shorter than 140 cm. 141 cm-150 cm. 151 cm to 160 cm. 161 cm to 170 cm. 171 cm to 180 cm. 181 cm to 190 cm. 191 cm to 2m. Taller than 2 m.

SKIN

Pale. Rosy. Olive. Dark. Tanned. Blotchy. Smooth. Acne. Dry. Greasy. Freckled. Scars. Birthmarks.

EYES

Small. Large. Average. Grey. Brown. Blue. Violet. Green. Gold. Hazel. Doe-eyed. Close-set. Wide-set. Deep-set. Narrow. Monolid. Heavy eyelids. Upturned. Downturned.

HAIR

Thin. Thick. Fine. Normal. Greasy. Dry. Soft. Shiny. Curly. Frizzy. Wild. Unruly. Straight. Smooth. Wavy. Floppy. Cropped. Pixie-cut. Afro. Jaw length. Shoulder length. Back length. Waist length. Past hip-length. Buzz cut. Under cut. Shaved. Bald. Weave. Hair extensions. Mohawk. Dreadlocks. Box braids. Faux locs. Mullet. White. Platinum blonde. Golden blonde. Dirty blonde. Blonde. Ombre. Light brown. Mouse brown. Chestnut brown. Golden brown. Chocolate brown. Dark brown. Jet black. Ginger. Red. Auburn. Blue. Dyed. Thin eyebrows. Average eyebrows. Thick eyebrows. Plucked eyebrows.

TATTOOS/ PIERCINGS

Full sleeve. Thigh tattoo. Neck tattoo. Chest tattoo. Back tattoo. Shoulder blade tattoo. One tattoo. Face tattoo. A few here and there. Multiple. No tattoo. Monroe piercing. Nose piercing. Septum. Nipple piercing(s). Genital piercing(s). Industrial piercings. Earlobe piercings. Prince Albert piercing. Eyebrow piercing(s). Tongue piercing(s). Lip piercing(s). Top of the ear. Tragus piercing. Angel bites. Labret. Stretches out ears. Navel piercing. Inverse navel piercing. Cheek piercing(s). Smiley. Nape piercing(s). No piercings.

COSMETICS

Eyeliner. Light eyeliner. Heavy eyeliner. Cat eyes. Mascara. Fake eyelashes. Matte lipstick. Regular lipstick. Lipgloss. Lip balm. Red lips. Pink lips. Dark lips. Bronzer. Highlighter. Eyeshadow. Neutral eyeshadow. Smoky eyes. Colorful eyeshadow. Blush. Lipliner. Light contouring. Heavy contouring. Powder. Matte foundation. Shiny foundation. Concealer. BB cream/tinted moisturizer. Wears make-up regularly. Wears it from time to time. Rarely wears make-up.

SCENT

Floral. Herbal. Earthy. Fruity. Fresh. Perfumes. Aftershave. Cocoa. Moisturizer. Shampoo. Cigarettes. Leather. Sweat. Food. Incense. Marijuana. Cologne. Whiskey. Wine. Fried food. Blood. Fire. Metal. Rain.

CLOTHES

Jeans. Tight pants. Overknee socks. Tights. Leggings. Yoga pants. Pencil skirt. Tight skirt. Loose skirt. Tight/Form-fitting dress. Cardigans. Tunic. Blouse. Button up shirt. Band-T-shirt. Sports-T-shirt. Sweatpants. Tanktop. Cut off t-shirt. Designer. High street. Leather jacket. Thrift. Lingerie. Long skirt. Miniskirt. Maxidress. Sun dress. Tie. Tuxedo. Cocktail dress. Highslit dress/skirt. T-shirt. Loose clothing. Tight clothing. Jean shorts. Sweater. Sweater vest. Waistcoat. Khaki pants. Suit. Hoodie. Harem pants. Basketball shorts. Boxers/Boxer-Briefs. Thong. Hotpants. Hipster panties. Bra. Sportsbra. Crop top. Corset. Ballerina skirt. Leotard. Polka dot. Stripes. Glitter. Cotton. Linen. Silk. Lace. Leather. Velvet. Patterns. Florals. Neon colors. Pastels. Light colors. White. Black. Dark colors. Fur/Fauxfur. Revealing clothing. Heavy armor. Medium armor. Light Armor.

SHOES

Sneakers. Slip-ons. Flats. Slippers. Sandals. High heels. Kitten heels. Ankle boots. Combat boots. Knee-high. Platforms. Stripper heels. Bare feet. Loafers. Oxfords. Gladiator shoes

BODY

HEIGHT

Shorter than 140 cm. 141 cm-150 cm. 151 cm to 160 cm. 161 cm to 170 cm. 171 cm to 180 cm. 181 cm to 190 cm. 191 cm to 2m. Taller than 2 m.

SKIN

Pale. Rosy. Olive. Dark. Tanned. Blotchy. Smooth. Acne. Dry. Greasy. Freckled. Scars. Birthmarks.

EYES

Small. Large. Average. Grey. Brown. Blue. Violet. Green. Gold. Hazel. Doe-eyed. Close-set. Wide-set. Deep-set. Narrow. Monolid. Heavy eyelids. Upturned. Downturned.

HAIR

TATTOOS/ PIERCINGS

COSMETICS

SCENT

CLOTHES

SHOES

Sneakers. Slip-ons. Flats. Slippers. Sandals. High heels. Kitten heels. Ankle boots. Combat boots. Knee-high. Platforms. Stripper heels. Bare feet. Loafers. Oxfords. Gladiator shoes

#oc: zoiya #kinda missing this binch ngl #oc: paz acosta #don't perceive me #tag game #i may have a problem #me making an oc for us military propaganda - the game?? it's more likely than you think #uhh I'm just thinking thots rn #didn't want to insert the original ravager baby into a different verse (she's from an original work of mine) so paz is sort of semi-new?#she gave herself that first name because she didn't have one :(#would've done this for more clowns but it's already so exhausting going through only one character lol

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needgoodthings · 1 year

Text

Y volvi a caer, una vez mas

#notas de desamor #te necesito #escritos de amor #desamor #i miss you #te estoy olvidando #amor propio #notas de amor #amor #dolor #dejame en paz #fragmentos

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absurdthirst · 6 months

Text

Kinktober 2023: October 31st

Day 31: Free For All

Mando x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: Fight Club style sex, anal sex, mlm, voyeurism, exhibitionism, fucking and fighting, face riding, oral sex (female receiving), helmet riding, vaginal sex, unprotected sex

|| Kinktober List || MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

The loud squeal brings your eyes back to the center of the floor, stopping the conversation between you and another armored warrior as you watch Paz Vizsla take his prize. The the ruby red back armor of his opponent bows, the body lurching forward while a cock that you swear is as thick as your wrist sinks into the man to the hilt, the blue heavy- armored warrior pawing at the black flightsuit of the man under him so he can wrap his beefy, leather cladded paw around the smaller man’s cock while he fucks into him ruthlessly.

The sight is one that is common now, occurring every week after he challenges Dorin Fatuk and wins.“I don’t know why Vizsla just doesn’t enter into a Riduurok with Fatuk.” Magda grumbles underneath her helmet. Scoffing and turning back towards you while dismissing the very public coupling that is occurring as other Mando’s talk and watch.

You snort indelicately, watching Paz’s frantic thrusts while Dorin moans and writhes under him like he does every week. Giving in and accepting the defeat with a certain frantic relief. You don’t miss the way Dorin starts to rock back against the cock hammering into his ass. It just further proves your theory that maybe the smaller Mandalorian wasn’t fighting as hard as he could when Challenged. “Because then the Armorer wouldn’t let them fight.” You hum knowingly, sending a smirk back to the purple and gold helmet of your friend, watching your reflection in the T of her visor.

Mandalorians love to fight, you think they goad one another on purpose, to have them pull their blades and clash. It was why the Armorer had decreed that all fighting be done here, in the Pit.

The Pit was a portion of the covert that is far from the large passageways that house foundlings and younglings. Wanting to keep the noises away from their tender ears and the sights from their young eyes. The Pit’s rules had evolved along the way until it was known as the Fuck Club.

You had the opportunity to deny a challenge, no one would look down on you if you did. Beyond the usual shit talking that seems to be second nature to Mandalorians when one or more gathers together. You wouldn’t be forced to fight.

If you did fight, there were two outcomes if defeated. You would have your helmet removed, disgracing you and breaking your Creed, or you would be fucked. Anyway that the winner wants, right in front of the entire crowd that had gathered in the Pits that night. It was public, dirty and often violently satisfying. Nothing was better than fighting and fucking to a Mandalorian. You don’t remember the last time someone actually had their helmet removed.

“Vizsla’s always been a showoff.” Magda huffs, making you grin at the annoyance in her tone. “Guess we can add exhibitionist to the list of traits.”

You hum, turning back and watching the scene unfold. Paz pulls Dorin upright, nearly lifting him off his knees as he continues to thrust into him. The other man’s cock dribbling pre-cum and looking like it’s about to explode. You can’t even imagine how it feels to have the fucking hulk of a man batter against a prostate. Although you swear you had seen Paz and Dorin huddled off in a corner of the tunnels before the fights started. Hopefully it was so that Dorin’s poor little hole could be prepped to take that fucking python.

“Are you going to fight?” You roll your eyes at the question, hearing it every time you decide to come down to the Pits to watch.

“I wear no armor.” You remind your friend, motioning to your uncovered face and the noticeable lack of beskar that covers your body. You aren’t a Mandalorian, you have not sworn the Creed, although you are allowed to live among them. Their protection and acceptance among their covert in exchange for going out and securing supplies and bartering for necessities so that they can remain relatively hidden.

“And?” The indelicate snort coming from your friend makes you grin and shake your head. “You could still beat half of them, armor or not.” Just because you did not wear their armor did not mean the Mandalorians had not trained you to fight. You enjoyed the time you spent training. They had wanted you to be able to protect yourself when you went to the surface.

“Still-” You break off when you hear another cry, watching as Dorin’s cock starts spurting ropes of cum and hearing the roar of the heavy armored warrior behind him as he thrusts deep one last time, obviously cumming himself. The cheering among the covert was loud, raucous as they thump their fists on the plates over their breasts, covering the sounds of the two men as they ride out their pleasure.

The noise turns into a mixture of conversation, the attention no longer on the men in the center of the ring but on the figure that has moved away from the wall.

Din Djarin. He rarely comes to the Pit. The shiny, silvery beskar reflects every light in the place. Drawing more than a few visors his way.

He’s a bounty hunter, often away from the covert. Traveling the galaxy and traveling to places that you can only dream of. The most you see is the rough market in Navarro, going above ground for the covert so they don’t draw more attention to themselves than necessary. Often wishing that he would take you with him, but you know that Din Djarin doesn’t even know you exist.

His steps are slow, almost a saunter as he walks into the center of the Pit. The almost lazy perusal over the crowd, as if he is searching for his quarry makes a shiver run down your spine. He looks imposing, even among the Mandalorians here. There’s a moment when his helmet stops on you it seems and your heart skips a beat when he lifts his hand and points at you, loudly announcing your name to the spectators.

You, he challenges you. Your eyes widen and you can feel the hundreds of eyes suddenly on your helmetless face. Making you wish that you had their armor to hide your surprise and embarrassment. To have that shield from the world and make them interpret your silence or the tilt of your head.

Everyone is waiting for your refusal, you can hear the whispers starting to rise through the crowd. Djarin’s visor is still fixed on your face, body completely still as he silently demands an answer to his challenge.

Why you? There are others to challenge. Plenty of available women in the covert who would gladly fight or fuck him. Is it some sort of test?

When you stand, the crowd roars, their leather clad hands pounding together in a muted, yet impressive thunder of applause. Making you a little more sure of yourself as you make your way down to the center.

The rules are simple. No bombs, no blasters, no blood. Anything else is on the table, although you don’t wear hundreds of weapons strapped to your body at all times. Your flight suit is plain. A blaster on your hip, discarded onto a table to be retrieved later, a vibroblade that you have tucked under your sleeve, and a throwing knife in your boot.

Standing in front of him, you weigh your options. Wondering what kind of strategy to take. There are weapons available. Sticks and practice swords. Something that you imagine the younglings using when they are training, but these weapons never leave this room.

He’s quick. Moving before you can even blink and making you feel like you are behind the curve as he jumps towards the table to grab one of the weapons. Knocking into his shoulder harshly and groaning at the solid weight of the man. He’s like trying to move a giant wall of beskar.

The noise of the crows fades as your vision narrows. All you see is Djarin, watching his core, his footwork as you start to pummel each other. You have a longer staff, a spear that you are using to your advantage. Pushing him back and knocking him off balance in a feverish melee attack.

He’s good, you have to give him that. He’s quick thinking and his skills are impressive. Taking hits equally as well as dodging them and your attack is quick if you do say so yourself. Despite not being a Mandalorian, you helped train the younglings at times.

‘Crack!’ The sound of your spear snapping over his chest plate makes you hiss, rolling off to the left when he attacks, bringing the sword down where you had once been standing. Giving you time to leap to your feet and sucker punch him right behind the ribs. A weak spot between his chestplate and backplates. He groans and stumbles forward, clutching his side and you use his bend over frame to climb up his back, wrapping your thighs around his helmet and starting to squeeze.

Din is trying to throw you off, but you hang on. Making sure that his helmet was firmly in place but you apply pressure to the cowl wrapped around his neck, effectively using it against him. Making it where he is struggling to draw breath and you both fall down when he collapses. Tapping your thigh and effectively tapping out of the fight and yielding to you. Making you the winner of the skirmish.

The crowd roars over the victory, and you reach down to grip the edge of his helmet to begin to lift it. He grunts, panting under his helmet and he grabs your hand, squeezing the back of it, although he can’t stop you. If you want to pull his helmet off, it is your right as a victor.

You don’t. You expose just the lower half of his jaw as your other fingers drag the lower zipper of your flight suit down. Exposing your cunt to his mouth.

You’re going to ride his mouth. Using him to get you wet enough and then you are going to fuck him. Once again, the roar of the crowd fades as you hold Din Djarin’s helmet and grind your cunt down onto his mouth.

He licks through your folds, groaning at your taste, or in relief that you did not pull his helmet off. You aren’t quite sure, but all thoughts but pleasure flee your mind when his tongue starts to move. Caressing and flicking over your clit eagerly, and you know that everyone is watching you ride his face, even Magda, from her spot in the stands.

The edge of his helmet grinds against your clit as your rock your cunt over his face, riding his mouth and his helmet at the same time. Smearing your juices over both.

Quickly working you up with the quick, harsh licks, you reach behind you and squeeze his cock through his own flight suit. He doesn’t wear a codpiece, but he’s as hard as steel when you grip him. Obviously turned on.

When you pull away, his lower jaw is covered in your juices, the wetness of your arousal glistening through his stubbled hair. He apparently shaves under his helmet, but not everyday. It is sexy to see, because you’ve never really wondered and now all you will think about will be that patchy brown hair.

The crowd is still cheering, some of them shouting what you should do with Din, others just wanting to see you fuck. Your hands slap his own leather covered ones away to reach down to the zipper yourself. You want to pull his cock out. This is your show, your right as the victor to touch him as you wish. To decide how you are going to fuck him.

Din groans again when you reach inside and wrap your fingers around him. Like most in the Pit, most Mandalorians in general, he’s not wearing underwear. Letting you pull the thick, uncut cock free and moaning yourself over the sight of it.

He might not be as big as Paz, but he’s thick. He’s long enough that you know you will feel him in your guts when you sink down on him. Quickly pumping him a few times as you straddle his waist again.

“I’m going to ride you, Djarin.” You accounce, knowing that the second your mouth opened, every Mando in the place would go dead silent, straining to hear what you are saying. Especially since this is the first time Din’s fought. It’s also the first time you’ve ever accepted.

“Your victory.” He pants back, yielding to you and it’s strange to see his mouth move since his helmet is still halfway off. It also prevents him from seeing clearly, his head tipping down slightly to get a better look.

It stretches you, your walls parting at the intrusion of his thick cock when you start to sink down on him. The slow beating of fists on armor starts to echo around the room as you take him. All visors on you as you start to ride Din.

Your eyes slip closed and you don’t push his hands away when they move up to grip your hips, tossing your head back as you move. Feeling him twitch and pulse inside you. “Mesh’la.” He moans, making you whimper at the term.

You can’t believe you won, that you are riding him in for all to see. Hands slide up to your breasts, squeezing them as you bounce on his cock and then you gasp when he pulls your zipper down, exposing your tits to grope them.

The pace turns frantic, harsh. Galloping on your prizes' hard cock as you chase pleasure. Feeling him completely fill you up and press against that spongy spot deep inside you. Every roll of your hips pushes you closer to cumming.

“Fuck.” You choke out, feeling your pace falter for a moment and you look down at his still exposed lower jaw. Reaching down to stroke a finger down the edge of it. Feeling him pulse and jerk inside you at the contact.

He squeezes your tits, bucking his hips up hard enough to make you squeal. “More!” You cry, knowing that even if he takes over, it’s still your victory.

That order is all it takes, Din holds onto your tits as he starts to drive up into you from underneath. Pistoning his hips up at a nearly unhinged pace. Feeling just as desperate as you are as the crowd continues to thunder around you.

The second you start to cum, your entire world goes white, the wild cries from the crowd nearly unheard as all you can hear is your own blood rushing through your system. Even your own scream sounds muted.

You don’t even realize Din is cumming as well. That he’s still inside you, lifting you both off the ground as he paints your walls with his cum. All you can feel is the pleasure. The tight squeeze of your cunt around him as your entire body shakes in pleasure.

Collapsing down onto the hard armor of his chest plate, you pant, trying to catch your breath. Feeling him relax under you as well as you try to come down from the bliss that had blown you into the atmosphere.

Fuck, you love the Pit.

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