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pedrostories · 5 months ago

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𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐕𝐄 | Joel Miller x reader

summary | Joel doesn't have a Mrs. but he does have a sports car.

author's note | @chaotic-mystery made me listen to sports car and i said you know what? yeah. this one's especially feral, sorry in advance.

content warning | 18+ MDNI, no outbreak au, girthy age gap, car talk, sad hot grieving dads gone wild, daddy kink, more specifically daddy issues, mutual mas, no touch rules, cum eating, pure filth

word count — 5k

“Beautiful, isn’t she?”

Your tongue rolls over your teeth inside of your mouth as you stare with folded arms, phone clutched tightly in your hand as you wait eagerly for your driver to arrive and get you the hell out of here.

“Stunning,” You offer a forced smile, watching as your date lingered around the old car, pristine and well-cared for, an unattainable feat for such an immature man-child like himself.

It was the last time you were allowing your friends to set you up on a blind date, nearing the point of swearing off dating entirely, knowing that a man who couldn’t even cover half the check wasn’t driving around in a classic Pontiac, let alone affording the upkeep for it.

“Sure you don’t wanna change your mind?” He asks eagerly, the subtle admiration of the car waning as he comes into view, knowing the old beater a few spots down was surely his.

The bells above the convenience store next door jingle as people enter and exit, taking another impatient glance at your phone. You watch as the boy takes a seat against the hood and it makes you cringe internally, swallowing your words as an even deeper voice interjects from behind.

“I’ll give you about three seconds to get your ass of my hood,” The older man threatened, spinning the keys in his palm as he set the six pack of beer on the roof, the younger kid scrambled to his feet instantly, “—is he botherin’ you?”

“Unfortunately,” You mumble as you take another glance at your phone and curse under your breath, watching the unmoving dot on the screen.

“Get outta here, kid,” The mystery man barks, “looks like you already ruined her night and I don’t need some runt like you fuckin’ up my car.”

You both watch as he sulks to his car, just as you suspected, your lips pulling into a thin line to stifle the laugh that built in your chest, feeling lighter for the first time that night.

“Does that happen often?” You ask curiously, watching as he fiddled with his door before the lock popped and the door swung open, the six pack of beer carefully placed in the passenger seat as he rose back up to answer your question, hands curled around the edge of the roof.

“Ever since I fixed her up,” He pauses, recollecting, “probably a once a week ordeal. They’re easy to run off, fortunately. You waitin’ on something?”

“My ride,” You wobble your phone back and forth weakly and Joel squints, shaking his head as he winces at the guttural backfire of the engine in the car behind him, the final memory of your absolutely awful date as he disappears down the road.

“Kid had a car and couldn’t even bother to pick you up or take you home?” He asks curiously, strangely not unsettled by his openness to conversation given his gruff exterior, “Some nerve.”

“It was a blind date,” You shrug, “My friends they—”

“Those ain’t friends,” He interrupts politely, “if they set you up with a guy like that.”

“Well, maybe—” Your words linger, shifting from foot to foot as the conversation dies out and your feet begin to ache, the summer heat making you uncomfortable, the silk fabric of your dress sticking to your skin as you wipe at your damp cheek and push your hair behind your ear.

“Hop in,” He tells you, stooping into his car as he closes the door, his waiting gaze staring up at you through the window, “I can give you a ride.”

“I…don’t know,” You answer uneasily, “I don’t even know you.”

“I’m Joel,” He answers almost immediately, “I’m not a genius but I figure you had a shitty date, no sense in you paying for a ride home if I can offer one. Chivalry ain’t that dead, sweetheart.”

You offer him your name quietly, approaching the car with some hesitation.

He seemed like an honest enough man, swooping in like a knight in shining armor.

You’ve given worse men a fairer chance—so, fuck it.

–

“My dad had a car like this,” You perk up after a few minutes, the glass bottles clinking against each other from where they sat by your feet, between your legs, “not a ‘67—was a ‘69.”

“You know your shit?” Joel asks curiously, his left hand settled over the top of the steering wheel while his right was settled against the gear shift, “He teach you about ��em?”

Oddly, conversation with Joel was easy. A similar interest, neither of you with any room to judge one another. Equals.

“I pestered him alot,” You admit, “I was supposed to end up with it but he sold it before he died. God, what I wouldn’t give—”

“She is a beaut,” Joel admits, giving a soft tap to the dashboard, “and a labor of love.”

“She? What’s her name?” You ask knowingly, the slightest hint of a smirk on your face.

He spoke so fondly of the car, as if it breathed life into him. It wasn’t unfamiliar to you.

“Sarah,” He offers up more subdued, but a soft smile graces his face for a brief moment, “s’long story, doesn’t matter.”

“My dad named his Jameson,” You say suddenly in an attempt to add some levity, “funny, since my dad was an alcoholic…”

Okay, maybe not funny, but Joel gives you a pity chuckle anyways.

Luckily, your nervous admittance is quickly looked over.

“So, where’m I takin’ you?”

You chew at your bottom lip and glance sheepishly at Joel.

“Um…UT?”

“Goddamn, that’s like—”

“An hour away, yeah,” You sigh, “I won’t be upset if you want to stop at the next gas station, I have the money for a ride, it isn’t that big of a—”

“I’m about five minutes up the road,” Joel begins, fingers flexing lazily ahead as they raise from the steering wheel, “I’ve got a spare room, I can take you up there in the morning.”

“You’re a total stranger, you know?”

“There’s a motel just a ways up,” Joel suggested with ease.

Though as you approach it looks bleak, the fluorescent lights blinking overhead and a glaring spot for much more nefarious activity with the perfectly placed strip club across the road, feeling the car pull to a slow stop.

“I…think I’ll take you up on that spare room,” You stutter out.

Joel nods, a hint of amusement in his eyes as he shifts gears and pulls back onto the road.

The flickering neon lights of the seedy motel fade in the rearview mirror.

“That place ain't fit for anyone, let alone a young lady like yourself."

“I’m not young,” You retort, ‘I’m twenty-three.”

“And I’m as old as this car,” Joel retorts, watching your face scrunch up in thought as you did the mental math in your head before he puts you out of your misery, “I’m fifty-eight, sweetheart.”

Pushing sixty? Big deal.

You’ve had older professors flirting with you inappropriately on a weekly basis, at least Joel was being polite and kind and not at all as sleazy as most men, at least, not yet.

You stare at him without his knowledge, his eyes focused intently on the road. He’s rugged, facial hair thick and unevenly covering his face, plush lips parting as his tongue swiped along his bottom lip, a permanent scowl on his rather softened expression.

He’s devastatingly attractive.

And there’s something about him that comforts you, a remnant of protection despite the unconventional circumstance of finding yourself in a stranger’s care after a terrible date on the way to an unfamiliar place.

Eventually, the car slows, rumbling into a small cul de sac with four other houses surrounding his own, certainly picturesque and not what you would suspect from a man like him. He cuts the engine dead as he pulls into his driveway and wordlessly leans his body over the center console, a hand snaking between your spread legs as he reaches for the six-pack of beer.

“Home sweet home,” He jokes lightly, “C’mon.”

With trepidation and a sudden heat to your face as he peers up at you for a moment while his hand is settled between your thighs, you nod.

Please don’t be a fucking serial killer, you think.

A silent prayer said to anyone that would listen.

He’s a perfect gentleman, fortunately.

Joel gives you a short tour, displaying the spare room at the end of the hall, an attached bathroom and plenty of escape routes—he seems to sense the unease still as it lingers.

“You said twenty-three, right?” He double checks, “You want a beer? Or water? I got some soda, too.”

“Beer is fine,” You answer with a nod, turning on your heels to follow him back down the hall and toward the kitchen, watching as Joel flicked on the overhead light above the kitchen island and pulled two beers from the cardboard casing.

He pops the caps off with ease before he’s pushing the beer into your hand and taking a sip of his own, leading you toward the dining room as he pulls out a chair for you and him, a comfortable distance as his legs spread out when he sits, the glass resting against his denim covered knee.

“So your daddy, he taught you a lot about cars?”

“How to take care of ‘em,” You explain, “What’s good, what’s shit. I’ve got a soft spot for the classics, you know? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I like them fast, too.”

“Smart girl,” Joel notes, but then he lingers for a moment and watches as you sip gingerly at your beer, “I’m curious—and you can tell me to fuck off if you want, but what happened back there? Other than that kid makin’ a complete ass of himself?”

The comment should not make your insides twist the way they do, a faint throb between your legs that you hide with a cough and another long sip, “He’s just…not great. And the gesture was there, he tried paying for the date, but then his card declined and, well…”

“Sounds like a real winner,” He mocks, taking a hefty sip before the liquid is gone, sliding the empty glass along the dinner table.

“He’s not my type, anyways,” You shrug, finishing off your own beer and mirroring his actions, watching as he silently grabbed the bottles and stood up, disposing of them in the nearby trash.

Joel makes an unintelligible noise as he shakes his head, “And what exactly would that be?”

You hum thoughtfully, “A V8 engine for starters, some real hefty horsepower, a nice spacy interior,”

“Damn, just my type,” Joel plays along, “I like that you know your shit—you savin’ up for one?”

A car, he means.

Given that you were attempting to find a ride home, it seemed like a valid question.

“Trying, sure.” You shrug nonchalantly, “It’s more of a dream anymore, college isn’t exactly the cheapest.”

A beat passes as Joel slips back into his seat and you pull your bare feet up into the chair, curling your arms around your knees loosely before you speak again.

“Serious answer—I don’t date boys my age ever. I was only entertaining it because my friends wouldn’t shut up about it. They’re usually older; thirties, forties. You can judge me—I get it.”

“Ain’t nothing to judge,” Joel shrugs, “You like what you like.”

“And you?”

Joel laughs at that, looking away briefly as you smile, poking his thigh with your foot as he thinks for a moment, eyes dragging toward the floor.

“I’m too old for that shit—ain’t nothing for me.”

“I think you’d be surprised,” You tell him honestly, knowing that most of the girls would be ripping each other’s throats out for a moment with him, the perfect amount of mysterious and dark, a hint of southern gentleman in the way he carries himself, a total fucking smoke show.

You knew just how deadly you’d be vying for a chance with him.

And here he was, like an offering plopped right into your lap.

Besides, you were having a bad night, what else did you have to lose?

“That so?” Joel seemed to be testing the waters too, a playfulness in his eyes that was deeply subdued but there, simmering. He wasn’t going to try anything unless you initiated, lucky for him, you were more than eager by now.

“Oh, I know so,” You nod with confidence, “Nice car—you got that whole dark and mysterious thing going for you and you’re hot, s’not like I’m blind, Joel.”

“Is there somethin’ you’re gettin’ at, sweetheart?” Joel asks curiously.

You shrug, a mischievous grin crossing your face.

You’ve had plenty of one night stands; terrible dates with half-decent sex.

You spent two hours getting ready, another getting to dinner, and you’d be damned to waste such a good opportunity when it presented itself.

“I had a shit night and you’ve already managed to make it better,” You admit, “I’m just sayin’ as a thank you, we could—”

“I’m not askin’ for a thank you, sweetheart,” His voice is immediately softer, alluring.

His brow twitches as you lock eyes, like a moment of consideration crosses his mind, large palms splayed out against even larger thighs, the type that made you curious.

He had the body of a man well-worked; a mix of someone who’s aged with grace and maintained his lifestyle through work, broad shoulders that begged to be explored, stretching as he fidgeted in his chair.

“If I told you I wanted you to fuck me, would you?”

Joel speaks your name aloud and you smile sheepishly, though he knows it was an act, feeling a little braver with a few shots of liquid courage from earlier in the night and a beer to loosen your nerves further.

You were staring at the veins in his hands now, calloused fingers rubbing at a soft, flayed spot in his jeans, right above the knee, tanned skin hiding underneath.

“It’s not a question of would I, honey. I can’t.”

So, he would.

“Can’t? Or won’t?”

“I’m gonna save you the regret—besides, I got a few rules for myself, and if not allowing myself to touch you when we just met is one of ‘em, I think that’s fair.”

“Do you think I’m pretty?” You goad, feet dropping slowly to the ground between his widened legs, “Do you want me to touch you? Is that against the rules?”

Joel knows there’s no benefit in lying.

“‘Course I think you’re pretty but you sure got a mouth,” Joel comments, fingers flexing against his thigh as he leans back in his chair, letting out a long breath through his nose as he peers over at you, “I’m willin’ to do a lot more than touch, sweetheart. But, not like this, not tonight.”

“I’m not drunk,” You defend, “C’mon, Joel. I got all dressed up tonight and I’m askin’,”

Half a second short of begging.

“Sweetheart,” He warns, “M’not gonna,”

“Then touch yourself,” You encourage, “let me watch.”

“Now, what makes you think—”

Your straps droop down your shoulders, one adjustment short of your breasts spilling out of your dress as your head nods toward his subtle adjustment between his legs, pulling slightly at the denim suffocating his growing erection.

He’s got a beautiful girl presenting herself to him, one more no away from dropping to her knees to wallow, lips parted as you breathed out softly, thighs separating so far that Joel catches the quickest glimpse of your thin panties, nearly see-through with how wet you were, your hands squeezing at the fabric near the end of your dress like a nervous tic.

Joel wasn’t blind either.

“You were going to do it after I went to sleep, weren’t you?

“You’re stubborn as hell, girl—”

“I bet it’s big,” You throw from left-field, a smirk growing on your face, “I love sucking cock, Joel. It’s my favorite thing—s’not a rule break, right? If I touch you and you keep your hands to yourself? Do you want me on my knees? Wanna see what I look like with your cock in my mouth?”

His jaw clenches, watching the muscle strain underneath his skin as he clears his throat.

“Don’t be shy—”

“I”m not shy.”

Then?

Your eyebrows raise in question, your dress pulling slowly up your thighs, legs widening with the movement before Joel finally relents, the deafening sound of his zipper pulling a soft giggle from your chest as you wiggle with excitement.

Joel's hand hesitates for a moment before he reaches into his pants, shoving them far enough down his thighs, his eyes locked on yours as he slowly pulls out his hardening cock, watching him swell in the loose grip of his palm. Your breath catches in your throat at the sight of it—thick and veiny, an easy seven inches, a heavy set of balls to match as his fingers roll along the tight skin and up, his fingers drifting featherlight over his cock.

“This what you wanted?” Joel asks, low and throaty, a strain to his tone.

You nod eagerly, bottom lip pulling between your teeth as your hands settle beside you, gripping the chair so hard it creaks, legs spread wide instinctually, making room for him despite his distance, your dress slipping far enough down your chest that your breasts were on display.

Soft peaks, nipples hardened in the cool air, your chest rising with slow breaths as you arch yourself forward slightly, his hand keeping a slow, teasing pace as his thumb drags over the thick head and against the slit.

Your eyes flicker between Joel’s face and his tight grip around his cock, watching as he strokes himself with slow intent, belt jingling with the movement as he pushes his shirt up with the other hand, his own eyes trading between different parts of your body.

He’d suckle at your skin if he could, trail his tongue from mouth to cunt, have you a shaking, sobbing mess if he allowed himself the luxury, but he was a man wallowing in his own self-made torture and the energy in the air was palpable, thick with tension.

“Closer,” He groans out lowly, nodding his head in a jerky motion as his free hand beckons you near, “Spread your legs, sweetheart—lemme see you.”

You give him far more than he asks, standing slowly before you’re hooking your fingers in the fabric at your hips and pulling down, letting the damp fabric drop to your feet before you’re leaning down to pick it up, tossing your panties into Joel’s lap before you return to your seat.

One foot propped against the chair, your dress bunches at your hips, giving him a perfect view of your glistening cunt as you spread your fingers through your folds, a teasing touch.

Blindly, Joel grabs at the fabric and wraps it around his cock, like a vice, he squeezes tight.

Joel's eyes darken, pupils dilating as he takes in the sight before him. His grip tightens around your panties, the damp fabric adding a new, chest-tightening sensation as he strokes himself harder. A low groan escapes his lips, his gaze fixed on your fingers as they tease through your slick folds.

“You too scared to fuck a college girl?” You tease him, “‘Is that what you’re worried about?”

“Smart ass mouth, girl,” He gripes, “S’like your daddy never taught you any manners.”

“Oh, ‘cause I’m sure you could’ve,” You reply flippantly, gasping as your finger catches along your fluttering hole, a groan rumbling deep in Joel’s chest as he jerks his cock.

“I ain’t your daddy,” He reminds you.

You shake your head nonchalantly, “No you’re not. Could–could be, though. “What do you want? For me to pout and call you daddy?”

“Careful,” he warns, his voice rough with desire, “That’s a dangerous game, sweetheart.”

You hum at the words, a faint flutter in your chest.

If you stopped to think about what was happening you would psych yourself out completely, so you lean back further, arching yourself forward as you slide two fingers inside yourself. "I don’t mind playing," you moan, eyes fluttering closed for a moment before locking back onto Joel’s.

Joel's breath catches in his throat, his hand faltering for a moment as he watches you sink your fingers deeper into your wet cunt, the soft squelch paired with your innocent sounds.

He scowls as he squeezes his shaft, “Christ, girl,” He grunts, “Tryin’ to kill me, aren’t you?”

You shake your head impishly, “Temptin’ you,” You admit, “Is it working?”

“You know damn well,” Joel says tensely, forcing the words through his teeth as his fingers slide up and squeeze at the head of his cock, precum slick against his fingers as he uses it to add to the friction, his eyes roaming hungrily over your body, “fuckin’ look at you, so goddamn eager.”

“That right, daddy?” You ask breathily, giggling with the word as Joel looks like he could explode, his other hand cupping his balls to keep him busy, knowing if he lingered with his thoughts for too long he’d fuck you into the chair without an ire of hesitation, his eyes close as his head leans back.

“Is that what you need? Someone carin’ for you?” He asks, “Is that why you’re actin’ out?”

The way his hand moves against his cock is mesmerizing, the flex of his wrist as he jerks his cock in a practiced manner, something he undoubtedly does weekly, squeezing his sack gently in his hand as his chest rumbles quietly.

“Eyes up, sweetheart,” He chastises, “I’m askin’ you a question, answer it.”

You nod weakly, a frown forming on your face as you whimper, the softest graze of your fingertip over your clit as your body spasms, gasping at the feeling.

“Words, ‘hon,” He encourages, his own voice wavering slightly.

“Y—yes,” You answer quickly.

Joel chuckles deeply, “S’good. Good girl, sweetheart. You wanna spread those legs for daddy then?”

Obediently, they do, presenting your glistening cunt to him as you fingers slip out, wet with slick and Joel licks at his bottom lip, mouth watering at the sight.

“Fuckin’ filthy,” He murmurs endearingly, a slight smirk stretching across his face at the sight, “—won’t even touch you and you’re mess, been like that since you got in my car, huh?”

You nod weakly, sighing as your fingers circle lazily over your clit.

“Taste ‘em,” He encourages, “clean ‘em up.”

Your fingers, he means.

Like some magnetic pull, you find your fingers pressing against your tongue without thinking and the tangy sweetness melts against your tongue, his breath shuddering as you licked your fingers clean, cunt pulsing with need, silently pleading for Joel.

His eyes narrow, darkening with lust as his hand speeds up around his cock, obscene sounds matching his heady words, neck straining as he grunts, “That’s it, sweetheart. Listenin’ to your daddy—M’fuck—fuckin’ close.”

Through your bleary haze, you nod with the same sentiment, speaking softly, “Metoometoo—”

His movements are more fumbling, quick and furious jerks of his cock that still at the head as he squeezes, his face scrunching up in a mix of frustration and desperation, trying harder than he’s ever had to not shoot his load too soon.

“Yeah? Show me,” He encourages, goading as his unoccupied hand twists into his shirt and hastily pulls it up and over his head, “Spread your legs for me, baby.”

They spread impossibly wider, your hand reaching behind your head to grip onto the chair as your ass slips near the edge, circling your fingers over your clit without much precision, knowing that one more word from his mouth and you’d be drooling all over the seat.

“So fuckin’ desperate, look at you,” He demeans, “Poor little girl with daddy issues, huh?”

You moan shakily, avoidant of his obviously goading question, eyes fluttering closed as your orgasm crept in slow, mumbling out the words without even thinking, “Please—please can I—daddy, can I—”

“S’alright, we’ll fix that,” Joel comments softly, his voice a low growl, “Go on, sweetheart, come for me.”

The feeling is instant, his permission all you need to melt over the edge, legs shaking through the mind-numbing sensation your climax brings, chest tightening as you gasp, fingers working frantically over your clit as Joel’s name slips from your mouth.

Distantly, you hear him groan, his orgasm overtaking him at the sight of you writhing in your chair, spilling over his tight fist as thick, milky ropes of cum spread across his chest and down the underside of his cock, his eyes falling shut.

As your breathing slows, your thighs pull together, shrinking impossibly small into the chair in a sudden overwhelming feeling of shame. Shame that you had shared an intimate moment like this with a man you barely knew all because you had a terrible night and shame over how easily he had made you come, like it was natural.

Despite the obvious, Joel doesn’t miss a beat.

A slow, satisfied smile spreads across his face and he beckons you forward. Finally.

“On your knees, sweetheart,” He instructs as your body moves without much protest, sliding to the floor as your dress pools at your hips, not amiss to the way Joel’s eyes follow the subtle bounce of your breasts as you move between his spread legs, his erection flagging but your tongue peeks out eagerly, licking at the head of his cock as your hands curls around his calves for support, “S’not—hey,” He hisses, “you were listenin’ so good until now.”

He’s salty and sweet, a taste so inviting that you needed more. It made your mouth water, tongue swiping against your bottom lip as your eyes fell on the opaque liquid covering his stomach.

Unfortunately, he still wouldn’t touch you.

He runs a hand through his hair while the other rests against the table, balled into a fist as you shake your head shyly, removing your hands from his legs.

“Sor—sorry,” You stutter, uncertainty evident in your voice.

Joel’s eyebrows raise, an unspoken bond quickly forming between you both.

“Try again.

“M’sorry, daddy—what can—,” You gulp audibly, fidgeting nervously with the silk fabric at your waist, “how can I make it up to you?”

Joel glances down at his stomach, still covered in cum as he breathes, watching the liquid drop down his skin and to his softening cock, still intimidatingly large even as it rests against his thigh, “Why don’t you clean me up? Can you do that?”

You nod eagerly, darting forward immediately as your tongue glided along his skin, into the small patch of hair above his groin and to his belly button, hearing Joel groan as the chair creaks with his shifting weight, struggling against his own forced restraint as you lick the cooled cum off his skin, eyes flicking up to look at him, dangerously innocent.

A facade, he knows. But, he’s in fucking trouble.

“That’s it,” Joel coos, “Clean me up good, baby.”

You giggle softly, dragging the tip of your tongue along the last bit of his cum before you drag up the center, barely reaching his face before you pull away, a soft huff of breath hitting you in the face as Joel shakes his head and chuckles, looking away from you briefly.

“Still not gonna touch me?” You tease him, quietly pulling your dress back up your body and over your shoulders, fingers adjusting the strap as he turns back to look at you.

“I’m tryin’ to be respectful here, sweetheart. And you’re makin’ it damn near impossible.”

Your brow furrows in a mix of confusion and amusement, “Respectful? You call that respectful, Joel? Oh—” You clear your throat and pull your bottom lip between your teeth, batting your lashes, “M’sorry, I mean, daddy.”

“Careful,” Joel warns, “You still have an hour in the car with me in the morning.”

You nod, slowly rising to your feet as you adjust your dress down your body, smoothing it out over your curves as your hands rest naturally behind your back, loosely as they curl together.

“Mmm, no,” You retort, a playful glint in your eyes, “I think you should be worried about me.”

“Is that right, sweetheart?” He mocks, hardly believing your faux confidence against him.

“Or, you could just let me drive?” You attempt playfully, a full belly chuckle erupting from Joel.

“I mean,” Joel shrugs, his voice trailing.

Breaking his rule for a moment, the hand ruffling through his hair trails toward your thigh, curling around the bare skin for a brief moment, sliding up until his fingers grazed against the curve of your ass and your bare pussy underneath, your panties resting near his fist on the table, a keepsake.

“Gotta reward my good girl, don’t I?”

#drive #joel miller #explicit #smut #mutual masturbation #daddy kink #2k~5k #oneshot #tumblr #ao3

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pedrostories · 5 months ago

Text

Joel Dealing with Preggo Wife: Save Me From Your Brother, Tommy!

Summary: you call Tommy to save you from your husband's wrath...

- - - -

Maria just finished making popcorn, tossing one towards the couch where Tommy expertly managed to catch it in his mouth. She sits down next to him as he wraps his arm over her shoulder. They settle in together for a lovely, quiet, romantic evening watching TV when--

Her phone starts buzzing.

Tommy grasps it next to him and checks the ID. It's you.

Maria shrugs and let's him answer.

"Yello?"

Your frantic, desperate, hushed voice carries over the speaker: "Tommy? TOMMY! You have to help me..."

Tommy sits upright. Maria pauses the TV, wondering why her boyfriend has stiffened. "What is it. What's wrong? Are you ok?" Chills run down his spine. He's never heard you like this.

You sniffle, holding the receiver closer to your lips. Your fast, panicked breaths are shaken. "He's... he won't let me go. Please Tommy you have to get me out of here..."

Tommy puts it on speaker, looking at Maria, fear creeping into both of their souls. "Who? Where are you? Where's Joel?"

"Its... its Joel!" You squeak. They can hear more shuffling, like you're crouched somewhere small and enclosed. "I'm home. I'm hiding from him... I'm in the bathroom..."

Tommy's heart is escalating. He knows Joel. There's never been a single fiber inside that guy that could give way he could cause someone such fear. Let alone his own wife. Who he loves to death. Who he's obsessed with. Something must be horribly wrong for you to call so scared...

"What is he doing? Where's Sarah?"

"She's sleeping...she's ok...she's spared from him... from his..."

Suddenly, they can hear Joels voice calling your name distantly from another room. You audibly gulp. "Tommy, he's gonna make me--!"

"Make you what!?"

"Hes calling for me... i have to... he's gonna come looking," you whisper desperately. You turn on the face time screen, and Tommy can see you clearly. You're hiding in the bathroom, the lights off. Your bedroom door connecting to the bathroom is closed, but there's a bright light shining underneath, and Joel's voice calling for you again.

You open the door, and Tommy and Mariah hold their breaths....

Only to see Joel is lying in bed casually, his waist tucked into the covers and back resting against the headset. When he sees you, he smiles and waves. "Baby! I paused it for you, so you don't miss anything." He pats the bed next to him, opening the sheets for your invitation. His toes swish under the sheets, unable to contain his giddiness and joy. Even Spoon, who is lying on the bed, has her paws over her ears, face tucked into the sheets as if she is being subjected to the torture you're referring to.

Joel doesn't seem threatening or menacing or... really anything out of the ordinary that should make you as upset as you are, so what the...?

"Joel...please...." you plea, near tears.

"What? It's the Hallmark Christmas in July marathon!" He cheers excitedly.

Tommy and Maria look at one another and then burst into laughter.

You cry out, stammering your feet like a kid having to finish homework before play time. "Tommy, he's making me watch these fucking Hallmark movies!!! THERE ARE SO MANY. IT NEVER ENDS. Get me out of here!!

Maria is laying fully back on the sofa, nearly capsizing on the edge from her giggles. Tommy is trying to hold her up with his leg, but his hand is clutched over his heart, purple in the face from not being able to breathe from how hard he's equally laughing.

"Tommy, its not funny!"

"You on the phone with Tommy?" Joel asks curiously.

Finally Tommy responds, albeit wheezing through his words. "I didnt know Joel liked Halmark movies..!"

Joel looks at you with a frown. "You said you wouldn't tell anybody..." He says softly, a mixture of embarrassment and betrayal.

"Oh Tommy counts as someone?" Tommy stops laughinh for a moment, now deciding against helping you.

You slouch your shoulder and whimper poutily, trudging your body towards him. "Do we HAVE to?"

Joel rolls his jaw. "If only i did things for YOU, like a loyal, devoted husband, willing to do ANYTHING for his wifes happiness," he growls sternly.

You KNOW hes the best, and even now pregnant with his second baby, and going through the torture of being... well, you in this state. He really doesn't ask for much. But this specifically is payback for earlier today when you made him drive you 2 hours for your favorite bubble tea, only to find it closed because you didn't Google their week schedule beforehand. And then made him drive 2 hours back to your second favorite place, only to find they ran out of boba for the day. To which Joel started lecturing to the poor girl about how a boba tea place can be open and not have any boba. He was already exhausted, angry, and frustrated, and definitely deserved a reward for having to chauffer you around.

But THIS?

"Okay so this isn't an emergency. This is just the consequences of your actions," Maria explains. She always knew you were a dramatic bitch but this really took the cake.

"I dont deserve this torture! Tommy, he's your DNA!"

Tommy shrugs. "And you married him. Have fun!" Tommy and Maria wave through the screen before ending the call.

Your lower lip trembles as you stare at the black screen. You only chance to get out of here, gone.

You look up to Joel, who slaps your empty spot on the bed twice, very firmly, very threateningly. His jawbone flexes. You dragged him around all day, and now ratted out his guilty pleasure, something you SWORE you wouldn't tell anyone. You earned this punishment.

"Still got Christmas House, Christmas on Cherry Lane, and 12 Dates of Christmas! Now.... Come. Here."

You cry but hang you head low, dragging your feet to put up with the fifth day in a row of cheesy Hallmark Christmas movies in July.

- - - -

@jeewrites @harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrsoharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee @cassiecasluciluce @loohoop @himboelover @callsignwidow @wintersquirrel @fluffygoffpanda @picketniffler @bbyanarchist

#save me from your brother tommy #joel miller #general #tumblr #series #ongoing

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pedrostories · 5 months ago

Text

Touch: Part 7

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Previous Chapter

Chapter Summary: Your future with Din seems bleak in the darkness of the ship, that is...until it's not so dark anymore.

Warnings: Consume at your own risk. No tags due to chapter spoilers. Non-spoiler disclaimer- Scenes from the Mandalorian season 3. The story arc diverts from canon, but it does follow the series pretty closely for a couple chapters.

wc: ~13k

a/n- sorry for another no tag/warning chapter. if you need to see a list of the potential things in here, refer back to the series masterlist to see what tags could be upsetting to you.

a/n pt 2: I try so hard to make sure that this is formatted correctly, and makes sense and flows well. I work on the dialogue a little bit-- and it's gonna have mistakes and maybe a spelling error. UNBETA'ED PROOFREAD BY TIRED EYES.

Sleep doesn't come to you easily that night. The only thing you can feel is the shattering of your heart- and it's turning into real, physical pain. It's like something alive and venomous crawled inside your stomach, and is twisting, stinging— biting you, as it moves all around, making you feel sick.

You wonder what Mando is doing now while you lay here all alone in the silence of your room— he probably is sitting in the cockpit, driving you right back to Cantonica. That's probably exactly what he did when he got up and left without a word! Turned the ship around so he could drop you off at Canto Bight Casino.

You could be a tender again, maybe a waitress too. Maybe your room in that woman's house was still available. You still had some credits saved up from before.

You'd be okay.

Everything was going to be just fine now that you didn't have to worry about Mando coming to ask to touch and watch, or put things inside you that weren't him- even though you've never stopped thinking about him, and those nights you shared together. They run through your mind at least once a day— sometimes more.

Mando won't bother you in the night to call you nice, sweet things, and to make your heart feel bigger and also lighter at the same time, somehow. Mando won't come to touch you and watch you and make between your legs feel things. too. Good things. Amazing things.

Eventually, after every single tear left inside of you has been cried out, you drift off to sleep.

The heat that wakes you up isn't confined to just your upper arm like it had been the night you came home from the temple. It encapsulates you, it overtakes everything that you are, and you love it because it's familiar.

You hum, ignoring all the sadness and anger that had been inside of you just hours ago before your teary eyes closed for the last time that night.

Strong arms wrap around your waist and pull you in close. A calm, pacifying voice whispers, "You think I do not care for my little one?"

"You're mad at me," you murmur, pushing your body back against his as tightly as you can, savoring in all of this. "Gonna leave me," you almost whimper, stealing all of the warmth you can from him, even though it's almost too much.

Hands as hot as the sun roam across the supple, soft curves of your body through your clothing. It's hard to think about anything other than the way he feels pressed against you like this, the way that his fingers tease you, tugging the hem of your shirt just over the of soft, gentle curve of your stomach before his hands move to your thighs, or up over your chest to your neck.

He is all over you, and you feel drunk because of—Mando!

"Get out—" you huff, pushing his exploring hands off your eager and excited body. "-of my—"You've betrayed yourself at the hands of a trickster! A slithering sneak who slips into your bed under the veil of the void. "-bed!"

It's probably he fact that you're twisting and turning, pushing against him, and trying to get him out of your bed that brings an urgency to his explanations. Din grips both of your wrists in his hands, his fingers closing around them completely.

"Listen to me, please, pretty girl in her white dress," His soft whisper in your ear melt your spine into liquid that pools somewhere in the core of you. The words, and the way he says them so softly, smooth like the richest velvet you've ever felt, quell the rage inside of you. “You need to understand that I have to wear my helmet,but I would show you if it would tell you how much I care."

There is no inflection, or teasing in his voice. The Mandalorian is serious, and it makes your heart almost still completely in your chest.

“Mando—"

“If you call me Mando again," his voice growls in your ear, but he sounds almost hurt or offended, like he can't believe you're still calling him that. "Offers revoked."

Shit.

There isn't enough time for you to say anything else before he continues.

"I left earlier because I was upset with you…for being upset with me," he starts, his lips pressed to your ear tightly so he makes sure you can hear him. "I was selfish, I should have stayed here with you," he sighs, his breath plumes against the side of your face, and you inhale to take in the sweet scent of him, and it makes your head spin.

This isn't how you wanted this to happen! Din was supposed to show you his face because he wanted to, not because you guilt him into doing it!

The last two years you thought of all the ways you could get him to show you his face and now, you only want one way. For him to want to show you. Not because you made him feel badly for not showing you.

Maker!

“Din, you don’t have to show me— this isn't what I want.” There is hesitation in your voice because you're reluctant to say it, but it's the truth

Din stiffens behind you, his grip on your wrist goes slack, but his mouth stays pressed to your ear.

Everything in the ship is quiet besides him breathing quietly.

“You’re right, though. I should have shown you before I left, like I showed Grogu. I hoped the talk we had the night before was enough. You said you’d do it for free, and I thought…” Din trails off.

You hate when he does that. You never need to. All your thoughts are front and center at all times ready to be said fully at any given moment. And he’s always searching inside that head for something to say.

“I hoped the meaning behind me making Luke and Ahsoka let you stay was worth more than words," he breathes against the shell of your ear.

If you’re really thinking back on it right now in this bed…the man did wait two years for you. Beskar-man got you a pretty focus crystal, said he’d get you a lightsaber to put it in. Took you into his clan earlier…he’s never done that before.

He said he came to visit, and was denied entry.

Din only mirrored your reaction getting off the return ship to the hangar to see him.

Shit.

"Why did you hope it would be enough?" It comes out a whisper, and croaked because of how dry your mouth is.

It feels like the ship hit turbulence, but really, it's just your body trembling— vibrating in anticipation.

What could he mean?

Din's breath grows shaky, like he might be just as scared as you. He starts to say something, but is so hesitant now, like maybe this was too scary, even for Din.

There isn't a time that you can remember him being scared- not that you've seen at least.

"What if you don't like it— what if you don't like me?" He finally says, and the words stab you right in the heart. "Would you still… do all of this for free?"

Din releases your wrists from his grasp; you hadn't even realized he was still holding on to you because you had stopped fighting him the minute he asked. He places his hands on top of your shaking ones, and slips his fingers in the spots between yours.

Deep down you are kind of scared because…what if you don’t like it?

What if he was warning you that first night about you doodles that he didn’t look the way that you thought?

What if he puts that helmet on and never takes it off because what’s under it isn’t nice to look at?

What if the man who has been touching you, and being so good to you; who you think you could potentially be in love with…isn’t what you want to look at?

What do you do then?

Din can put that helmet back on all he wants, but you’ll know.

You’ll know, and you’ll never be able to un-know what his face looks like.

Maker. Maker. Maker.You are a special star- you are. A sick star!

This is unfair. Absolute shit timing, and situation.

Putting you in this position to know? How dare Din, and Maker himself, do this to you!?

Even though this is all you want!

Just not like this!

Another part of you thinks that you couldn’t ever not care for the man who is under that helmet. Despite his looks, right? You’re not shallow, not really. As you think back on it right now, he’s done everything for you, and is willing to do the most everythingright now. By showing you his face.

How do the clans of Mand'alor work? What is their religion? Who are the people of that planet that had been destroyed so long ago?

Bathe in the living waters. What’s livingin the waters? Why does he have to wash himself in them?

You’re unsure. If it was explained in the cave— you blacked out for a minute looking at the nice sand. It felt like you had sand in your ears for most of the conversation.

It's no wonder you don’t know shit about fuck-all right now.

You stare at the wall in front of you, looking at all the rivets and welds that keep this giant, metal monstrosity together while it flies through the sky—

Hold on just one Maker-loving second! You can see things!?

There are all different shades of blue and purple and white filling the room. You tilt your head up and look out the windows, and all those colors are streaking past so quickly, it's all a blur. It's the most beautiful thing you've ever seen. You realize how fast you're moving when you look at it.

If you turned around right now…you'd be able to see Din. His voice has been non-modulated this whole time, his warm cheek and scratchy facial hair has been present against the side of your head since you woke up.

You shut your eyes so tight it almost hurts,

You flip around in Din’s arms, and pepper kisses across his entire face because you can. He's right here in your bed, and you can touch him, feel him, kiss him as much as you want- but you won't look.

You start speaking quickly, urgently— because you feel like such an ass, such a dumb idiot for because you were selfish. Everything he did for you, starting from the notebook, the credits to go to the market, the opportunity given to only you to train with the Jedi? How many others get that? The focus crystal?

He also could have completely kept you in the dark about all of this. Made you stay on the ship while the Armor lady Mandalorian reamed his ass out for taking off that stupid helmet.

Din didn't do that though, he gave you an opportunity to hear the truth and now, he's offering to show you his face.

“Din, I’m so sorry. I’ve been so ungrateful. I care for you so much- with the helmet. It’s enough. You’re enough with the helmet.” You keep your eyes shut tight–and you're glad you do, because you could cry again. You feel so foolish for not appreciating him more."

“Open your eyes, little one in the white dress. Please, before it’s too late and I have to put it back on again for good.” Din moves his face closer to you, the tip of his nose touching yours, his warm breath on your lips.

Din kisses you lightly, his lips are so soft, and so warm just like the rest of him. His hand gently presses into the small of your back.

“Is it going to change everything?” You mumble against his lips, worried.

You're worried everything’s going to be different. What does all this mean? You'll get to see his face once, and then never again?

Do you get beskar’gam like Grogu did? Do you have to learn Mando’a? Because it’s hard! You hear Din speak it sometimes, and it sounds so hard to learn!

You don’t know anything, and you can’t find the strength in your lungs to make the words come out. What is going on? This is a dream. Has to be.

“I don’t want it to change. I want you to rest your head down at night knowing I care,” Din nuzzles the tip of his nose against yours gently. "Rest your head down on me at night— every night."

You exhale loudly—

"Were you holding your breath?" Din chuckles, and steals another quick kiss before you can say anything, or even react to what he said, “This way you know, you can stop wondering. You’d have something to think about besides the helmet.” Din’s voice is so soothing.

If your heart wasn’t about to speed out of your chest and hide somewhere else in the ship his voice could lull you to sleep.

“I willhave to leave again, like before, but I’ll ask you to come when it’s not too dangerous. I won’t keep you trapped here like before.” Din’s offering all you want. To be with him sometimes off the ship. To come with him.

“You want me to look?” You ask again.

This is really going to happen this is not a dream.

Din’s one-million-degree body lets you know that you're not still asleep. This is all really happening, and you’re going to see him for the first and probably last time. That’s okay with you.

Honestly, he could tell you he’s too nervous— and you’d say that you were too and you could both just go to sleep. Your heart, dear Maker, your heart is beating and pounding so fast, there is no way he cannot feel it pressed up against you like this.

“Yes. Please look. I want you to see.” Din speaks so softly and so calmly and he doesn’t sound nervous or uncomfortable anymore. Just amazed to be here sharing this little bed with you.

The calm quietness of the ship is ruined by screaming alarms. Loud ones. Bright, flashing lights fill the ship.

Everything inside of you feels like I could jump right out and lay beside you on the bed.

As fast as the alarms went off, you and Din start scrambling, limbs flailing. Your elbow connects with something hard, and then Din groans loudly.

"Did I!?" You exclaim, already knowing what you've done.

You clamor out of the bed Din is already standing beside, and has his hands covering his nose and most of face.

But you can see his eyes, and they’re dark and perfect—and he’s bleeding.

Fuck.

Everything is so loud, it feels impossible even form one single helpful thought with the alarms going off, you just stand there looking dumbstruck.

Din runs out of the room with blood dripping from his hands and elbows leaving little droplets on the ground. You run into the main hull and look for some sort of first aid kit to help the man whose nose you just probably broke, but you see nothing.

The hallway back to your room is flashing red and white over and over and you think you’re going to pass out. It’s so fucking loud.

There is blood dripping all down the hall to where Din took off, probably the cockpit.

The kid is wailingfrom his room and now you’re on the verge of tears too. Grogu can wait. You need to clean up this blood first. You forget where everything is on the ship, your memory embarrasses you while you try to remember how to clean something up. You’re not thinking clearly. It’s so loud and so overwhelming. Oh, Maker.

The alarms and the lights stop, and finally there is some semblance of calm.

It's so much easier to think clearly when the ship isn't screaming at you. Cleaning supplies are in the dining area, under the sink.

The drops of blood are focused mainly in the sleeping quarters. You can think again. You start to grab everything you need and start the job of cleaning the mess.

The whole ship rumbles enough rock you from side to side gently, and you hear the hydraulics of an opening door below you. There must be a carrier down there, but you're not completely sure.

There wasn't much Din wasn't willing to show you, but he said one door in this new ship was off limits to Grogu and you- while you were still angry with him- so you didn't even question him.

Where is Din going though? Why didn’t he come say goodbye?

Cleaning the little droplets of blood that start in the bedroom next to your bed, you work you way out into the hallway.

While you're cleaning, your mind races with what happened in the bedroom just a couple minutes ago. With everything that happened between him asking you to look, and right now, it feels like a lifetime has passed.

Din Djarin- the mystery man with a helmet and a secret face. A secret life that you know nothing about, as much as you wished you knew, Din doesn't talk about his life.

There hadn't been much for you to share about your life, either. So, the both of you had just fallen into a routine of being comfortable in each other's presence, touching and talking about easy things.

Grogu has stopped crying, but you’ll still go check on him in a minute. It’s just too much with the blood and the kid and the bleeding man.

As you stand up Din rounds the corner in his full beskar minus his gloves—

With a woman…who is also in beskar. Her armor is nowhere near as loose fitting as Din’s, and doesn’t leave anythingto the imagination. She is beautiful with shoulder length red hair, and perfect lips that fit her face so well. She's a couple inches taller than you, but most of the people in beskar you've met are larger than you in some way.

“This is Bo-Katan.” Din's rasp cuts through the awkward silence that fills the ship. “I need to go with her for a while, but I’ll be back as soon as I can. Then we will go to Nevarro. I’ve already turned the autopilot on so we’ll be closer when I get back. I won’t be long.”

Your eyes flick between Din and this woman, Bo-Katan. “Okay…” You force an uncomfortable, and awkward smile. Suddenly, you feel very exposed in only your nightgown. “Have…fun…okay.” You turn and walk into Grogu’s room and try to shut the door.

There isn’t enough space for you, and you have to stand on his little tiny bed to shut it. Now you’re standing on your tip toes, feet angled and shifting so they don’t step on the baby - who is now staring up at you, confused as to why you're in here, and possibly how. You don’t know how you got in here, either.

You’re pretty sure this is a broom closet that Din put a little tiny bed in.

Oh Maker.

Din and a woman? Out in the galaxy together? Alone? Doing what exactly? He didn’t explain.

You scoop the child into your arms and open the door, peering out into the hallway.

It's empty, so you take this opportunity to scurry down the hall towards the room you and Din share.

Bo-Katan comes out of one of the weapons rooms as you try and sneak by, and slam right into her.

Grogu makes an annoyed, sleepy warble and curls up into your arms.

“I’m so sorry," you apologize and hold your hand out and it lands right on her left tit. You stare at your hand on her breast for several seconds before removing it. “I’m so sorry about that, too.” You look at her. Your lips pressed tightly together. “I’m so sorry. I just woke up.” You lie and purse your lips again and point past her to the room one door past the weapons room. “That’s my room," talking for no reason is what you're doing.

You also just touched her boob.

Which is exactly what Din was probably running off to do with her in the night!!

“It’s okay. Don’t be sorry, I’m the one who crashed your slumber party.” She winks at you. She’s so pretty. Her pretty red hair and her perfectly shaped lips. You’ll have to ask Din later if she’s a good kisser or not.

Humph.

You hate Bo-Katan— Not really. She was wonderful– but why did she wink at you?

Why is Miss Pretty red hair and perfect lips here in the night winking at you? Because she can come in whenever in the night and steal Din right from under you?

Because she sure did. Stole him right out of your bed and made you possibly break his nose. She made you miss your opportunity to see the lower half of his face.

“Where’s your helmet?”You blurt the question out suspiciously before you can even stop yourself from thinking about asking her. You just noticed that she had perfect hair and pretty lips and now, you’re just saying the first thing that comes to your head apparently. It just came out all fast and dumb, you couldn’t even control it. “I’m so sorry, again. That was so rude.” You’re so embarrassed. Could just crawl right into any one of these nameless holes in this ship and die kind of embarrassed. You’re here blurting out questions to the beautiful Bo-Katan in your nightgown that you realize now has some blood on it. Shit.

“No, it’s okay! Don’t be sorry.” She shakes her head and puts a gloved hand on your shoulder. You look down at it and she removes it slowly but you wish she hadn’t. She was so gentle and small and felt nice. “I’m not from the same clan as Mando. We just bear different religions and ideas. I don’t have to sport mine all the time.” Bo-Katan winks at you again! Why is she winking at you!? “Our ideals aren’t as severe and old-fashioned as his.”

Din himself comes from around the corner as she says this as you flick your head to him. He looks between the two of you and Grogu who has passed out again in your arms.

“I’m sleeping with him tonight.” You say for no reason. Din nods and puts his second glove on. “I’ll see you…soon?” Din nods again and presses his forehead to yours, one hand on the back of your neck. He holds you there.

See this Bo? Hmm? Do ya?

Din lets you go and rambles off the list.

“Be safe. Don’t let anyone on. Don’t get off. I’ll be back tonight. Soon. Hopefully.” Din nods and then looks down at Bo-Katan. She is still looking at you, smiling softly.

“I’ll make sure he gets back to you. Don’t fret.” You wait for her to wink again but she doesn’t this time. She puts another gentle hand on your shoulder; as if she’s trying to comfort you? Maybe she feels bad for you? Because she's about to go touch him like you do!? What is happening? Din gave youforehead touches, which you assume is a sign of affection from him to you when he can’t take his helmet off. You like it.

Bo-Katan…and her helmet-less head. Who is this woman? How does Din know her? She’s an associateof his. You wonder how oftenand how wellthey’ve been associated.She was nice to you though. And gave you a gentle touch.

Are you…touch starved?

The thought starts racing through your head as they walk down the hallway.

Why did her touch feel so good? So comforting. And that’s dumb because Din waited two years– Did Din wait for two years? Oh, my Maker. Was this a woman who he had been gallivanting around the stars with while his paid babysitter and touch womanwas indisposed?

No.

That didn’t happen. Nope. Not even a little bit. is just someone Din knows. Din can know people. You know people. You know Luke and Ahsoka. And Grogu. And some kids from the temple. And that guy from the sweets shop in the Outdoors Market or whatever it was called. Hmph. You had friends too. Din’s not the only one with friends. Hmph.

You look around the room that’s still being streaked in all the pretty colors and you take all the blankets and lay them out on the floor. You lay Grogu down next to you and his eyes open. He makes a fascinated, intrigued warbling sound.

“I know. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” You whisper down to him.

He holds your index finger in his three little claws while you watch the stars pass by.

“Well...you’ve seen Din’s eyes, right?” You lift your head to look at Grogu and he coos softly. “Yeah, so those are the most beautiful, and then this is a close second.” You explain quietly.

The baby makes a sound like he could be agreeing with you.

“I know. They are so dark. And his forehead, Grogu. And his hair. It was so curly and messy and dark.” You start listing off all the things you saw on Din’s face to Grogu who listens happily.

Grogu makes a shocked warble sound that stops you from your rambling list of things you saw.

"He does have a beard. I saw it tonight!" You exclaim. "When was the last time you saw his face? So long ago, it was. I saw him tonight, little green child," you taunt him.

Grogu blinks up at you silently.

"I don't mean to rub it in, I'm sorry," you cradle him to your side and press a kiss to the top of his head. "I just really can't believe it."

You look out the window and sigh. “Do you know Bo-Katan?” You ask the baby who can’t really answer you. He warbles softly. “Is she a good lady? Is she nice and trustworthy? She’ll keep him safe for us?” You look at Grogu again, but he’s asleep next to you. Fell asleep listening to your voice.

You love Grogu. A real love. Dying for this child would be something you’d do easily. If you knew it would protect him. Grogu snuggles into you as you tuck him into the blankets and snuggle in yourself. It’s hard on the floor. It reminds you of the Crest and your mat. It makes you think of the first time Din ever touched you in the dark.

Sleep comes to you with all the blues and purples streaking overhead.

“Little one..." Din's calm and quiet voice whispers in your ear as you feel him climb into the makeshift bed on the floor. “It’s me.” He sinks beside you and rests his head on your chest. “Touch my hair.” More quiet, non-modulated whispering.

You bring one hand sleepily to his messy, dark curls and twirl your fingers in it mindlessly. Din sighs, and relaxes against you. The child is still on the other side of you asleep. You’ve got your other arm wrapped around him.

“Is your nose okay?” You whisper to Din through a yawn. “Did I break it?” You try to sound apologetic in your sleepiness because you do feel bad. You never want to hurt Din.

Unless he’s trying to spar or fight you.

He had been being so sweet and trying to show you his face, and you hit him all because of Bo-Katan.

“It’s fine.” Din murmurs from your chest, like he could be falling asleep. “Not broken.” A sigh and he’s got one hand on your stomach, touching your belly button under the blankets, tracing around it slowly. “W-Want to see?” You feel his body shake softly like he’s laughing.

The weight of his head lifts from your chest. You tilt your head and Din is looking up at you. He’s got one black eye and there’s blood still crusted under one nostril. You laugh at him and let your head fall back to the pillows.

“Are you sure it’s not broken?” You smirk, your hands still in his hair. “You’re so handsome, even with the black eye and the blood.”

Din chuckles and pulls you into him by your waist, “C’mere.”

You make him rest his head back on your chest and continue to spin his hair in your fingers. You think of his face and how you just saw it and it felt so much more natural and exactly how you had wanted him to show you. Casual. Din cares. You can feel it in your heart now. “Perfect and beautiful.” You whisper into the blue-tinted darkness. “You are.” You wait for a response but Din’s already asleep on your chest.

The next morning, Din pulls the hood over your head and covers Grogu with your robes. The child is sitting comfortably in his little bag that’s slung over your shoulder. You watch Din’s helmet as he focuses.

“Am I going to hear any news that might upset me?” You smirk up at him as he clasps the robe closed around your neck with a small metal pin. His helmet snaps up and you can feel his eyes on you. His perfect dark eyes.

“Stop that.” Din presses his forehead to yours. “No. Maybe. I don’t know?” He sighs, “You can’t get angry with me anymore. It’s the rules.” Then he shrugs his shoulders like he has no say in the matter.

“You make the rules!” You exclaim.

Din nods down at you as he pulls away. “So follow them. Listen to me. Stay close.” Din rattles off more instructions as you walk down the ramp together.

This planet is nice. It’s got a nice town center and Din leads you down a stone pathway.

“Don’t stray, please.” His gloved hand reaches out for you as you take a couple of steps forward.

It’s been such a long time since you’ve been in a place with so many things, places and people to look at, it's hard to not be overwhelmed and want to explore. The city looks like it's in the process of being rebuilt, buildings are in the process of rising higher into the sky

“This is Nevarro?” You ask, looking up at Din as he looks around in the crowds.

He nods and keeps his head swiveling back and forth, observing. "It used to be a hub for pirates and the Bounty Hunter Guild, but the High Magistrate is trying to change that now." He leads you to a droid statue that’s standing tall in the center of town. "Make it nicer for the citizens that live here."

"That's very nice of the High Magistrate," you continue to watch the people walking by, and the buildings and shops that line the street.

“He’s what we came here for.” Din points at the nonoperational droid now in front of you.

“What’d you need him for?” You raise an eyebrow and shield your eyes from the sun as you look up at the droid Din pointed to. “He’s a statue.” You point that part out to him.

Din tilts his head down to you. It’s almost like you can sense that his patience with you is worn thin already. You smile regardless, because you've seen his face, and he wouldn't show his face to just anyone. It brings you a sense of pride to know that he trusts you, cares for you enough to have let you see him like that.

and bring your hand back to your side. It slips into your robe and you rub your fingers along Grogu’s ears. He gives you a satisfied sound of enjoyment as you do.

“Where are we going now?” You ask Din excitedly as he leads you into the crowd. His strong hand finds your upper arm and he holds you close to him. “Are we going somewhere nice? Ooh! Somewhere we can get food!?” You exclaim, seeing a bakery. “Din. Din. Din. Din.” You point to the tarts and sweets in the window excitedly.

Din pushes you past the bakery, obviously in a hurry to get somewhere.

“Okay… But I want to go there before we leave.” You look back at it over your shoulder. It’s been so long since you’ve had anything that wasn’t a bowl of broth or rations.

“Fine. We have to be somewhere now though.” Din continues to lead you through the crowd. You catch people's eyes and smile at them politely. It’s nice to be out in the world again. Not on a ship caring for a child or in a Jedi temple getting whacked with sticks. It feels good to be integrated with the galaxy again. Not just looking at it through windows.

“Mando!” A voice calls out from behind you. You and Din both spin around. “I heard you were back, but I didn’t believe it.” The man in gold and red robes booms as he walks towards you.

“Magistrate Karga.” Din rasps from behind the modulator. Your eyes look up to Din as he talks. You’re unsure if he likes this person yet.

“That’s High Magistrate to you.” The man laughs and slaps Din on the shoulder.

“My aliit.” Din speaks a word of Mando’a that you’re not familiar with as he gestures to you. You’ll ask later. Grogu peeks out from behind the robe as the four of you walk into the building Din had been leading you to before the Magistrate stopped you.

Din walks with Karga up the stairs and they speak quietly to one another. You follow with Grogu still behind your robes. They lead you into a large room with a giant balcony. The High Magistrate motions for you and Grogu to sit in the chair behind his desk as he and Din walk outside the doors and look over the city.

Grogu climbs out of the bag and sits in your lap. You’re suddenly being spun around slowly. You see Grogu holding his little hand out. You try to stop him, push his hand down into his lap or something but your chair is still spinning. You put your feet down onto the floor to try and halt yourself but you just end up kicking a metal trash can from under the desk with a loud crash.

The chair slows down and when it finally stops, Din and the Magistrate are staring at you. Grogu’s head won’t stop turning from side to side like he is still moving. You’re still dizzy, if we’re being completely honest. The room is still moving in your eyes and you just smile at Din and Karga. Holding Grogu in your lap. The trash can is still spinning beside you.

“Sorry. It’s hard to stop him when he’s focused on something.” It comes out stuttered and nervous. “He’s just…bein’ a kid.” You pet the top of Grogu’s head softly and he makes a purring warble you’ve never heard before. You look down at him and he’s chewing on something from the Magistrates desk. “I am…so sorry.” You press your lips together tightly and attempt to take whatever the child has in his mouth away from him but he holds on tight. “Do not...embarrass me.” You whisper into his ear and pull– what you come to find is a tracking beacon– out of his mouth and set it back onto the desk in a puddle of slimy saliva. “So so sorry.”

Din hasn’t moved, or stopped looking in your direction once since he and Karga turned around.

The Magistrate looks at you up and down and then at the child in your lap. “...as I was saying… There’s a lot of money to be made on Nevarro. Set you and your group up in a nice tract over by the hot springs.” Karga points out over the small town and out onto the edge of the city. “You, the woman, the child. Hang up your blasters. Live off the fat of the land.”

Is that why Din brought you here? To settle down? You’d have absolutely no issues with that at all. Being Din’s woman and Grogu’s mother doesn’t sound half bad. Sounds all good, actually. You see nothing wrong with this and love that Din brought you here to live with him. He’s so smart. Take his helmet off, settle down. You can try to bake tarts and sweets and breads like in the shoppe you passed earlier.

“Grogu.” Din says curtly.

Karga looks at him oddly and then flicks his eyes at you. “Huh?” The Magistrate looks you up and down again like he can’t believe that’s your name.

“His name is Grogu.” Din turns again and walks to you, taking the child out of your arms; leaving you just sitting in that nice comfy, spinning chair. All alone. Din walks back to Karga and holds him up. “Grogu.”

Karga curls a lip lightly and looks back at you once more before turning back to the town below him. “If you say so,” he doesn’t sound amused. “Like I said, there is a beautiful parcel down by the flats.”

“I appreciate the offer, but I have matters to attend to.” Din explains, less curt and more in his normal, raspy soft tone.

Your heart sinks into your stomach. It was too good to be true. You knew it deep down inside you wouldn’t be staying here. Even if you do want to bake tarts and sew Grogu new robes in a nice little house with a yard to play in.

“Oh? I’m…confused. I thought your mission was over, but you’re still with the chi—Grogu, and the woman I've heard about. They're still with you.” Karga waves a hand at you like you’re not there.

You sit quietly and watch, just happy to be involved. Happy to not be stuck on the ship, so they can talk about you like you're not here— because you could not be here. And you don't want it to go back to that.

“I completed my quest. My aliit returned to me. I removed my helmet and now I’m an apostate.” Your head turns to Din now, looking at him now instead of Karga.

“All the more reason for you to stay here. Where you come from, you may be an apostate but here…but here you’d be landed gentry.” The Magistrate explains to Din as he looks down from the balcony.

Karga is right and Din should listen to him. Stay here, on Nevarro. Din can watch as you bake him tarts and play with Grogu. It’ll be perfect.

The door to the room opens and a droid walks in. Karga groans at the intrusion and lets his head fall back in frustration. The droid explains that there are pirates in the courtyard.

You stand but Din puts his hand on your shoulder and hands Grogu back to you.

“Stay here. Don’t move.” Din sits you back down in your chair with the child.

You humph quietly, and are left alone in the High Magistrate's office.

There is a commotion down below the balcony right outside. You go to look because Din isn’t here to tell you not to. The balcony isn’t high, maybe three or four stories up. The wind blows the hood of your head as you peek over. You’re watching as Karga and Din walk side by side down the road in the center of the courtyard. They stop at a group of mismatched pirates outside of a building. You can’t hear what they say.

Karga steps in front of Din and begins to speak to the pirates. Just talking. Din leans against a tree a couple of feet back from him and watches. They just talk for a while. Nothing crazy and then the pirate Karga has all his attention on; walks out into the street with his hands held out down to his sides. He speaks. You wish you could hear what he was saying. Din pushes himself off the tree he’s leaning against and takes two steps forward as the pirate talks to the High Magistrate. You swallow hard as Karga pulls his red and gold robes back away from his hip. You can see the blaster pistol strapped to his thigh even from all the way up here on the balcony.

It’s so tense. People run past them on the street below you, a woman shouts for her kids to come inside. You swallow hard again as your free hand– the one not holding Grogu to your chest for dear life– grips the stone railing of the balcony. Everyone below looks like they’re frozen in place they’re still for so long. Your heart is pounding in your throat and then it happens. They both reach for their pistols but High Magistrate Karga is faster and unholsters his weapon, aims, and shoots all before the pirate can get his pistol up to his chest. Karga disarms him; shooting the blaster pistol right out of his hand. You let out a long sigh of relief as you can hear Karga say loudly enough,

“Tell Capitan Gorian Shard that Nevarro is no longer friendly to pirates. Now get outta here.”

There is no movement from anyone below you. It makes your heart almost beat so fast you can’t feel it. Din moves his hand slowly to the blaster pistol on his waist and you hold your breath as you know what’s about to come. It happens so fast that you almost miss it when you blink. The rest of the pirates withdraw their weapons but Karga already has his own pistol out and Din had been fingering the trigger on his for at least thirty seconds before the pirates even reached to draw. Every single one of the pirates fell to the street except for the one Karga had disarmed first. The one he had been speaking to originally.

The High Magistrate speaks again but you can’t hear him anymore. The pirate takes off running down the stone-laid street in the opposite direction. Din turns his head and sees you on the balcony. You wiggle your fingers at him from way up in the air and turn around, back into the office you were left in.

You set Grogu down in the chair and watch as he picks up little orange pieces of candy from a bowl on the desk and brings them to his mouth with the Force.

“You cheat. You’re a cheater.” You say to him as you grab yourself a handful of candy and begin to pace, tossing them into your mouth as you think. They crunch delightfully between your teeth with a sugary coating and then the inside is fruity and chewy– you need to find out where the High Magistrate got these– they’re phenomenal.

Din’s not taking any offer of land on Nevarro. It makes you sad but you enjoy your time on the ship. That’s your home, even if it doesn’t really feel like one. You live there, make memories there. Watch the child learn new things. You learn new things too. Inside the ship, you learn about Din. He wants to teach you how to pilot. You’ve seen his face even if it was all beaten and bloody by your elbow. Maybe Nevarro isn’t where you’re supposed to settle down if that was ever even an option. You don’t know.

You also need to learn more Mando’a. What had Din said to Karga and did Karga even know what he called you?

Grogu ate all of the candy out of the bowl on Karga’s desk. You may have helped- it was too good. You just kept scooping up handfuls and handfuls mindlessly as you paced his office. Grogu watched you from his place in the chair.

“What did Din come here for? Did he tell you? I think he tells you more than he tells me.”

Grogu watches as you stand in front of the desk and talk to him.

“What does he need a broken-down droid for anyway? From what I can remember him saying long ago, he doesn't like droids...or they don't like him...or something about a dislike between Din Djarin and droids?” You rest your hands on the desk and lean into Grogu. “C’mon, kid... you've gotta give me something! Anything! What are we doin-”

The door to the office opens and you snap up, taking your hands off the desk. You bring them back up behind you and turn to see Din and High Magistrate Karga walking in.

“Sorry about that, Mrs…” Karga looks at you and then glances back at Din, who says nothing to correct him. “Mrs.” He finishes. “Just had a couple of things to take care of.” He smiles at you apologetically for leaving you here in his office. You shake your head and take a small step to the left, showing him the empty bowl where candy used to be.

“I’m the one who should be sorry. Grogu ate all your candy.” It’s a lie. You ate it all. You couldn’t stop yourself.

“Oh, it’s easy to get. They have it in stock down at the shop on the main road. I’ll send a droid to get more. Don’t worry.” Karga smiles at you, taking a couple of steps towards you. “Miss. Mando, it was a pleasure to finally meet you. I’ve heard plenty about how exceptional you are with the ch-with Grogu while Din is away. Impressive. He’s a handful from what I can remember.” Karga is an attractive man, older with a dark complexion. His facial hair is white and contrasts beautifully against his skin.

“Thank you.” You can feel yourself blushing for all different sorts of reasons. “He’s definitely a lot. Fun though. And a good bug catcher if I ever need one.” You smile up at Karga as he places a hand on your shoulder.

“Don’t let Mando keep you out in the stars too long. Try to get him to accept my offer once he’s done with whatever matters he’s attending to.” It’s said quietly as if Karga didn’t want Din to hear him say that to you. Doesn’t matter, Din’s clearing his throat because he did.

“Those service droids should have brought IG-11 in now, yes?” Din asks, walking to Grogu. He picks him up and cradles him in the crook of his elbow. Karga nods and keeps his hand on your shoulder as he leads you down the stairs.

“I offered him the marshall position here in Nevarro.” The High Magistrate explains, again hushed as Grogu and Din follow behind. “If you can get him to change his mind, I’d also have a job for you here. There is plenty that needs to be done. You wouldn't be forgotten about, Miss. Mando.”

Karga takes his hand from your shoulder and leads you all into a room. The top half of the droid statue Din showed you earlier is lying on a slab of metal in the center of the room.

“Huh.” You look back at Din as he hands you the child. “You’re gonna fix it?” Din nods. You watch Din start pulling on wires, and removing things from the inoperative droid. “We need a droid I trust to help us explore Mandalore. This is that droid.”

You furrow your eyebrows. We. Us. Mandalore. What’s he talking about?

“There. He’s hooked up to power.” Din says as you hold the child in your arms next to him. “Let’s see if we can wake him up.”

“Isn’t this an assassin droid?” Nervously, you look up at Din. He nods. “What are we doing with it then?”

“Before I met you he was the one who took care of the child.” Din explains. He presses two wires together but nothing happens. You watch the droid's head and wait for movement, holding Grogu against you tightly. Nothing.

“There you go.” Karga laughs and points to the droids pinchers at the end of his arms.

“S-subparagraph sixteen-teen-teen of the B-B-Bondsman G-Guild p-protocal waiver.” IG-11 stutters as it sits up, its head twisting and turning right to you and Grogu. “Immediately p-produce said…” You look at Din with worry in your eyes as you turn the child away from the droid. IG-11 reaches for Grogu and you turn further away from it. “That b-b-bounty is mine.” You’re taking steps back but the droid has fallen off the slab and to the floor and is now crawling towards you. “Terminate asset. Terminate asset.” It’s repeating itself over and over. Now Din is shooting at it with his blaster pistol but it does nothing to stop the attacker directly in front of you.

“Miss. Mando!” Karga calls out as IG-11 reaches for and clasps around your ankle. It’s squeezing so tightly you’re sure it’s going to break your bones. It’s happening so fast. Karga holds his hands out and you toss Grogu to him. The droid immediately lets go of your ankle and starts crawling towards Karga with determination.

“Terminate asset.” IG-11 repeats over and over.

“Shoot it!” You shout at Din who is already shooting at it. The droid is about to pass under a large bust of High Magistrate Karga. Another droid, not IG-11 pushes the bust off the pillar it’s resting on and it falls onto the head of IG.

“That’s one way to use your head.”

You stand next to Din with Grogu in your arms. You’re watching the Anzellans work on IG-11. Your ankle still hurts and you’re sure it’s probably already bruised. The little creature in front of you starts to talk in his native language. You understand everything and nod your head, pursing your lips together.

“Huh.” You keep nodding.

“Uh…okay. I don’t understand. Do you speak Huttese?” Din shifts uncomfortably next to you. You look up at him with raised eyebrows.

“He said it broke.” You motion to the small creature who is still talking intermittently with the other Anzellans. You nod as you listen to them carefully.

“That’s no good. I need this one. This one is my friend.” Din speaks slowly to the creatures working on the droid so they’ll understand him.

“Mhm. Yeah…Okay.” You keep listening to the little creature speak. “Yeah. No. The memory circuit is busted. He said this droid is not your friend anymore.” You look up at Din.

“How do you know what he’s saying?” He asks curiously. “Tell him to put in a new one.”

“I learned things while on Canto Bight.” You turn your nose up at him. “I know things.” You look back at the little creature and smile. You ask very nicely if he can put in a new memory circuit. The little man speaks up to you quickly. “Mhm.. really? Okay. Okay. No? Ohhhhh, okay.” You look back at Din and shake your head. “Not happening. The part you need is too hard to find. They don’t make them anymore. He said to buy a new droid. This one is…” You look back at the Anzellan in front of you and raise an eyebrow. He mutters something and you nod. “Poodoo.”You nod at Din.

“Can they fix him without the memory circuit?” Din’s annoyed. The little creature pipes up now so Din can hear him.

“Yeah. IG no think. No think.” His little accent is so cute. Din sighs.

“What if I bring you the part?” Din looks back at the little creature.

“Oh. Then no problem. We fix.” The little man looks up at Din and says it so he can understand.

“He said he can-” You start but Din shoots you a look. Grogu throws one of the Anzellan's wrenches across the room. He must have picked it up when you leaned over to listen and translate for Din.

“I’m so sorry about that.” You apologize and reach for the wrench but Grogu grabs a chain hanging from the ceiling and pulls it as you walk by. It rattles loudly and something from above falls down to the ground. The Anzellans start to mutter again in their own language. “No. No. He’s not a pet. He’s a baby. He’s just young!” Now all the little creatures surround you as Grogu looks down at them from your arms.

“Bad baby.” One of the little creatures says. Grogu throws another wrench you didn’t even know he had down at the creatures. They all scream and go running.

“Yeah, he’s a bad baby!” You growl down at Grogu who is still watching the Anzellans scatter down by your feet. “So bad.”

Grogu is back in his bag. You have a bag of orange candy in one hand and a box of baked goods in the other hand.

“Aren’t you so glad we stopped? They had those tarts! The same one from the market so long ago.” You look up at Din who is focused on getting you back into the ship. Din shakes his head and sighs.

“Are you glad we stopped?” He looks down at you, one hand on your lower back as he gently pushes you through the crowd. You nod happily and lead him back to the ship. “Then I’m glad. C’mon. Speed up a little.” Din pushes his hand into your back and steps directly behind you. One gloved hand slides down and cups your ass while you're walking. It makes you blush.

“What are you doing?” You whisper. Din doesn’t say anything, just gives your ass a nice squeeze or two before his hand moves to your back again. “Do it again.” You look around to see if anyone’s watching but no one is looking at you. Din slides his hand back down to your cheek, gripping it tightly as he presses his chest into your back.

“Being bad.” He rasps into your ear as he continues to push you towards the ship.

Grogu is asleep in his bed. Din is waiting for you in the ship's dining area when you walk out after changing into your nightgown.

“You look strong.” Din nods as you reach into the cupboard for your orange candy. You smirk and flex your bicep for him.

“I’m getting lazy here on this ship with you. Eating candy and sweets.” You smirk at him and sit down at the table. You watch him puttering around with something from his beskar. The question you want to ask is a little scary, you don’t know if you want the answer. You ask anyway. “What does ‘aliit’mean?” The candy is just as good as it was in High Magistrate Karga’s office. “You called me that when you introduced me.” Munching happily on your sweets. Din doesn’t answer you for a couple of moments.

“It means family.” The helmet tilts up to you and you freeze with a piece of candy in your hand. “I hope that it’s okay. Me addressing you like that.” Din looks at you. You toss the candy back into the bag and look at him.

“Is that what we are to you? Grogu and I?” Din places his hand on yours as you speak and nods. “Then it’s fine. I like it.” A smile spreads across your face. “I liked Miss. Mando better but, it’s fine.” You tease as Din squeezes your hand gently.

“C’mon. I wanna do something.” Din pulls you up from the table and leads you into the entry hull of the ship.

“What now? What could The Mandalorian want now?” Din tilts his head down to you and starts to unbutton the top of your nightgown. You watch and smirk down at him. “Ohh, what The Mandalorian always wants.” Din presses his forehead against yours as he slides the fabric off your shoulders.

“You look strong enough for it now.” He rasps quietly.

Frowning, you pull your head away from his but his hands on your shoulders keep you close. “Strong enough for what? Do I want to know?” You’re nervous now.

“I was too worried before. That I’d hurt you.” Din rasps from the modulator and pulls you in close, and presses his forehead against yours. “I didn’t want to hurt you but I think you can do it now.”

You’re still frowning. Hurt you? Do it? What is he talking about?

“What do you mean?” Din takes his helmet off and looks down at you and you almost cover your eyes with your hands but you remember you’ve seen it. He’s just as handsome as you remember. Even with a black eye.

“Let me show you.” Looking at him while his non-modulated voice speaks is like standing under a waterfall you imagine. The weight of it just presses you into yourself. You feel so encapsulated by the deepness and softness and beauty of it. It drowns out all the other sounds you could hear.

Everything happens so fast. Somehow, the both of you are completely naked, even his helmet is off, and he has you sitting on the edge of the table in the dining area— his two thickest and longest fingers pumping in and out of you slowly, stretching you open for what you've been waiting so long for.

Din's forehead is resting against yours, his other hand is wrapped around the back of your neck holding you close to him as he pushes you closer and closer to that edge.

For the first time since you've met him- Din hasn't stopped talking.

"Don't want to hurt you," he whispers, his eyes locked onto yours. "Never want to hurt you."

You capture his words on your tongue and let them slide down your throat, and moan your own wanton desires out to him, "Want you to."

Din pulls back only an inch, giving you a perplexed look as his fingers curl against that spot inside of you once again, the heel of his palm now pressed and rubbing against your clit while he eases you back onto your elbows.

"Really, ad'ika? You want that?" His fingers move faster at the idea of bringing you some sort of pain that mingles with your pleasure.

The words what does that mean, leave your lips, but they're laced in with a moan, and a shiver through your whole body that makes it hard to actually speak.

"Means 'little one'," Din leans over your torso, his chest flush against yours. "You're my little one, yes? My ad'ika?"

Din is so beautiful. If you could etch his beauty into the back of your eyelids so he could be seen whenever you closed them, you would. You'd give all the credits you have saved, you would give years off your life just to know that there would be a place where you could look at him forever.

He was handsome in the dark that night when he showed you, but right now— it's well lit, and there is no sleepiness clouding your vision or hindering your ability to really be excited to drink him in.

And Din lets you. It's like he knows you're trying to memorize his face before he has to put that foresaken fucking helmet back on, so he's letting you take him in, hear him unmodulated— and watching him speak is like a work of art.

"Are you?" He questions, his fingers stalling their movements inside of you. His brown eyes haven't left yours since he got you on the table, it felt like he couldn't look away- even if he did want to.

Swallowing hard, you nod up to him- because you are his. You've been his for so long.

"Say it," his voice is stern, and he doesn't curl his fingers inside of you again, he pushes them further than he has yet, and it makes your eyes flutter.

"I'm yours."

The words leave your lips and Din withdraws his fingers from you, and places them into your mouth.

"Suck," he murmurs, placing himself between your legs. So you do, tasting yourself on his fingers, teasing him with your tongue between space between them.

The table feels like ice under your buttocks, but it's such a stark contrast to the heat radiating off Din between your thighs. Every single atom or fiber, or cell— whatever is holding you together as a person— is quivering. It's shaking like you might vibrate off the edge of the table.

"Ad'ika, are you ready?" Din whispers, pulling his fingers from your mouth and placing them into his. He half hums, half moans at the taste of you still lingering.

"I'm ready," you nod, eyes glued to his mouth. Everything inside of you is telling you to look down so you can watch him notch himself at your entrance for the first time, but you can't pull your gaze away from his face.

Din finally pulls his eyes away from yours, because he wants to watch. You're both trembling, you can feel it in the hand on the back of your neck. It feels time stops, both of you are still, just the heaving of your chests, and Din rubbing the tip of him along your soaked slit.

"Put it in," you whine quietly, eyes still locked onto his face, watching him lick his lips in anticipation.

Din's eyes flick up to yours, and a half smirk plays across his lips, "Ad'ika, I've waited just as long as you—"

"Put it inside," you wrap your legs around his waist and pull him into you.

Din leans in and presses a kiss, a real one- his lips to your forehead, very softly before he pushes just the tip inside of you.

It's breathtaking- you gasp at the sudden stretch and burn as he opens you up for him. With you jaw hanging open, and no sound coming out of your mouth you finally sit up and look down at him lewdly splitting you open around his throbbing, veiny length.

"Maker…"

Both of you breathe the word simultaneously.

Then a soft whimper escapes your lips before you can stop it as Din pushes another inch of himself inside of you.

Din's eyes flash up from where he's pushing further into your dripping hole, to your eyes. "I'm hurting you?" He frowns, his brows furrowed together slightly.

You shake your head, then nod, and then shake your head from side to side again rapidly, "S'really good, please d-don't stop." You plead with him quickly, reaching out for him in any capacity.

Din's hand leaves the base of his cock where he had been holding it, and finds yours still searching for something to hold on to. He wraps your fingers around the back of his neck and they tangle in the mess of his loose, brown curls.

"Don't stop?" Din questions, his second hand now coming to the back of your neck to wrap around the one he still has there.

"Please don't stop," you confirm, beg, plead for him to move, to give you some sort of friction or satisfaction around the immense burn still happening as you mold to fit him inside you. "Please, p-please, Din—"

Din answers your supplications with a firm snap forward of his hips and he's entered you completely. His hips flush against yours.

The pained, moaned sound that's torn from your throat is loud, and it doesn't sound like it feels good— even though you want this. This is pain you're willing to give him— willing to go through to be close to him. It doesn't matter, it's a pain that stings in the sweetest way.

Din's eyes narrow on yours, a silent command for you to give him another confirmation that you still want this- that you still want him to hurt you just a little until it morphs into pure bliss.

You nod, mouth still hanging open silently.

Din groans, resting his forehead against yours once again, seemingly pleased with your silent need for more. "Fuck, little one, sucking me in so fucking good… Maker," he sighs, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. "You're so soft and warm, like I knew you would be."

All you can do is stare up at him, with tears in your eyes- mostly from the discomfort that has yet to settle into something you think you'll be able to enjoy. You'll will yourself to fit around him— you don't care because you love Din. You love him so much, and you wish you could say those words to him— but it's so fucking terrifying, and there are some scared tears in your eyes too.

All these feelings, and now this, this intense wave of new adoration for this man who usually dons beskar and a helmet, naked between your thighs right now. Din migrates his kisses to your cheeks, and the side of your face as his mouth settles directly in front of your ear.

"Shhhh, don't cry, please don't cry— it'll feel good soon, little one."

It feels like a promise as he pulls his hips back from yours slowly.

"Ohhhh fuck," you clench your eyes shut tight, and grip the hair at the base of his neck even tighter, as if that'll keep him in place, keep his massive length from leaving you fully.

"That's it," he coaxes, his thumbs rubbing circles at the base of your jaw, his fingers still intertwined around your neck.

"Take me, take every inch." He rocks forward then, and you whine at the movement, your entire body heating up from the inside out.

You can't think, can barely breathe, consumed by his intimidating size and the pressure of his body against yours, surrounding you completely.

"You're so perfect for me," Din praises, voice low and rough. "So beautiful and tight, and fucking perfect." He grunts.

He starts thrusting then, languid movements that have you arching up into him, feeling overwhelmed by too many sensations. "This okay?" he asks, voice strained with the effort of holding back. "I'll stop-"

Pleasure starts to peek through the veil of discomfort, winding its way up your spine until you're gasping, high and breathy. "Din, Din, fuck," You babble, hands scrabbling for a hold on his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. "Don't stop— don't stop, p-please keep going."

He groans at that, hips stuttering. His rhythm falters but doesn't cease, picking up speed. "Greedy girl," he teases. "It feels good now?"

"Yes," you sigh.

"Good, c'mon on."

Din has both hands pressed against the wall of this new ship by his waist. The bend in your knees is draped over both of his forearms and he’s holding you against the wall. Your back is pressed against it and your hips are pulled away, supported by Din.

His thrusts into you are not gentle or feather touches like the first night he woke you up in the dark. The loud smacking of skin against skin and your dripping cunt echo in the empty, quiet ship every time Din slams his hips into yours. He’s slamming them so hard your back moves up and down on the wall behind you. You're slick with sweat.

Din wasn’t wrong when he said he would have hurt you before. The man cannot hold himself back now that he’s inside you again. He held back on the dining table, but he cannot anymore.

One of your hands is behind his neck, holding onto him tightly. You can feel him at your cervix, it’s a shock when he drives his hips into you. Din’s pushing every sound and every single ounce of air out of you. You are a squeaking mess against the wall behind you. The only sound coming out of you as he’s fucking you is a strained, small, quiet little pant with the tiniest exclaim of pleasure that your body can find inside of you. Your eyes are closed tightly, the grip on the back of his neck has got to be hurting him because what he’s doing to you is sending a completely new tsunami of goodness through you. These are not waves.

It’s been one big orgasm since he started these thrusts into you. You haven't stopped. You’re dripping down Din’s thighs you’re so fucking wet. His sounds of pleasure are filthy. Deep grunts from his chest and guttural moans, unable to control how hard he fucks you.

"You like this?” Din grunts deeply at you. All you can do is nod. “Say it.” He’s demanding it, no stutter, no soft voice of amazement or awe. He’s fucking up into you so deeply, “Say it," Din demands, needing your voice.

“Yes.” You finally find enough air inside you to force it out. Your head is spinning and you haven’t been able to form one clear thought since you and Din watched him slide his cock into you for the first time. You couldn’t even speak over the feeling of it stretching you. It felt like it was going to split you in half at first.

“Yes, what?” More thrusts into you, quickly knocking you back against the wall each time, your sweat keeps you sliding up and down in rhythm with him. Din’s being so aggressive. You got a little tiny taste of it the other night when he face fucked you, but he held back then. He’s not holding back now.

“Y-yes. I-I l-love it.” You’re stuttering with each smack of his hips against yours. Din’s thrusts get faster as you speak to him like you’re the one controlling how fast and how hard he moves.

“Say forever.” Another guttural demand forced out between hard upward slams of his hips into yours.

“Oh my Mak- For-ever,” It comes from somewhere deep inside you like he just forced it from within you with those thrusts.

“Little one-” He’s looking down between you now, watching his hard cock disappear into your velvety wetness as he bucks his hips up into yours. The base of him is gleaming in your leaking slickness. It makes him groan, watching it. Encourages him to move faster. “-so per-fect.” He draws the word out, his forehead finds your shoulder.

You’re suspended in the air, you can no longer even find the energy inside of you any more to keep your head up. It’s leaned back against the metal wall. Your eyes are closed as he rips another orgasm out of you. You don’t even make a sound when it happens. The only way he knows is by the walls of your cunt tightening and squeezing around his cock thrusting inside of you.

“That’s a good girl.” It’s another low guttural sound in your ear. “Love w-when you come on me. Love feeling you c-come.” You’re obsessed, love when he calls you a good girl and tells you to come on him. It’s the soundtrack you want to fall asleep to when he’s gone.

Then he’s withdrawing from you. Your feet touch the ground before you can even comprehend what’s happening. Din’s hands are on your waist, turning you. He puts his hand flat on the wall from behind you.

“Hands.” It’s a guided instruction on what Din wants you to do. You follow it, placing both of your hands on the wall. “Beautiful.” He’s still behind you, hands on your hips again, pulling them back against him. Din’s feet kick yours apart gently and you let him open you up. Then he’s pushing himself back into you.

The sounds your skin makes when he jackhammers into you are obscene. Like someone’s being beaten up. You are being beaten up...technically. You’ve never ever been fucked like this before. Your supple mounds bounce below you as he rams himself into you over and over.

“Perfect— everything about you is perfect. Your cunt, your mouth... your ass,” he grunts, checking the list in his head aloud as he fucks you. "All so beautiful.” Then you hear his mouth wetly suck something from behind you, and the thoughts of what he’s doing run through your head. He presses his thumb against your puckered hole. “I want it. Can I t-take it? Please?” Din grunts, but is still being so polite while he thrusts into you angrily.

“Yes.” You’re able to whimper out. You want him to take it too, thinking back to the time he used the Amban on you. “Take it.” Whimpered again.

“My little one,” he whispers as he slips the tip of his thumb into you.

The pleasure between your legs completely masks any pain that might have happened when he did that because you don’t feel a thing. Just being stretched around his digit. The feeling of fullness as he rests the rest of his fingers just above your ass. He pushes it in deeper and holds it there as he continues to slam against you, again the sounds in the ship are salacious and filthy. Wet-smacking skin, your choked on sobs of bliss as he made you come once more.

“Fuck.” He groans and his hand grips your hip tightly. “Fuck, take it. Fucking take it.” His thrusts become more staggered and sloppy. Din slams himself into you one last time and then holds himself against you, still grinding his hips into yours. You can feel him twitch and throb inside of you as he releases.

You’re ebbing off your orgasm for the seventeenth time. One last thrust of his hips to fully empty himself. He’s quivering. It makes you smile as you rest your forehead against the hull.

“Perfect.” Din’s out of breath but uses what he’s got left in his lungs to let you know. His forehead finds the center of your shoulder blades. He’s sweating.

You can feel him leave his sticky sweat on your back when he stands, slowly and carefully pulling himself from within you. You groan at the empty feeling, his spend dripping down your thigh.

You stay, leaning up against the wall like that until his hands pull you away from it.

“I can’t.” You gasp. “Oh, my Ma-ker.” Another forced-out gasp of approval of what he’s just done to you. “I can’t. Tired. Sore.” You whine as you push yourself off the wall.

“Tired. Bed. Sleep. Perfect. Beautiful.” Another list in his head that he audibly checks off to you as he leads you backward towards the softest sheets and the most perfect bed on the floor as long as Din is beside you.

tag list: @thereaperisabitch @pedrospookie @furiousmushroom @creepycorbeaux @harriedandharassed @realmamabear79 @blahkateisdone @picketniffler @cheekychaos28 @lilac-boo @pedrostories

let me know if you want to be added or taken off the tag list!!! (I'm also sorry if i forgot anyone, I am trying to be good for you all.

#touch #din djarin #series #ongoing #general #>10k #tumblr

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pedrostories · 5 months ago

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Never took you for a pervert, Miller.

pairing: dbf! joel miller x female reader summary: you borrow a jacket from joel, and it returns to him with a stain. he goes crazy over your scent, and he wants more. warnings / contents: 18+ (minors please dni!), big unspecified (but legal!) age gap, brief mentions of alcohol, smut, f masturbation, dbf! joel, perv! joel, dom! joel, spanking, choking, dd/lg dynamic (kinda), daddy kink, praise kink, light dacryphilia, pet names, unprotected piv (wrap it before you tap it please!), creampie, no outbreak, no sarah word count: 4k a/n: i recommend listening to every girl gets her wish by saint avengeline while reading this! it really sets up the whole vibe >< enjoy °༄ !

It all started with that damn jacket.

“It’s so cold, Joel. Please.” You whined, skin shuddering from the breeze. “Told you to bring a coat or somethin’, y’never listen.” He huffs, shedding off the outermost layer of his clothes. He holds it over you, eyebrows raised combined with pursed lips.

You smile at him, quickly grabbing hold of the jacket and putting it on. You waste no time, zipping up the front of the jacket and tugging the ends of it to try and fit your body. It felt huge wrapped around you– it extended past your torso, and you had to tug the sleeves up just to use your hands.

You looked so cute like this, he thinks for a moment, staring at you blankly. His eyes raked over you, eyeing you from head to toe. “Anyone ever tell you it’s bad manners if you stare?” Your voice chimes in like a chirp of a bird, and he’s back to reality.

He shakes his head, walking past you, “Shut up.” He mutters. And you smile.

You were fully aware of what effect you had on him. Ever since moving across his house a few months back, you’ve made it your life’s mission to make him fuck you.

It didn’t take long for him and your dad to form a friendship over football and beer. However, ever since meeting Joel, he was always just this stuck-up, grumpy– presumably lonely– middle-aged man to you. You were just determined to help him, what’s wrong with that? Every time your dad invited him over for dinners or outings, you made sure you wore something that caught his eye.

Even if that means wearing something skimpy during a cold weather.

“I’ll wash this up for you and bring it back tomorrow morning, promise!” You say, looking at him with a glint of mischief in your eyes. He nods, shaking his hand in the air, “Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

Is it wrong that he turns you on?

Is it wrong that you’re thinking about getting stuffed full of his dick? Of his cum?

“Come on, girl.” He calls out to you, and you follow.

For the evening, your dad had invited him to an outing. A fancy word your dad uses for just ordering take-out and eating it in the truck by the woods. They talked for a while, with pauses and laughs in between.

“.. Anyway, I have to drive back to our old place tomorrow.” Your dad says, biting down on his food. You nod before tilting your head, “Why?” He finishes his food before wrapping the packaging and throwing it in a piece of plastic, “Forgot some of my boxes, kid.” He shrugs casually then turns to Joel, “Keep an eye on her, would ‘ya?”

When you get back home, you rush up to your room. You sigh in relief, welcoming the warm air while taking off his jacket. You lay down on your bed, holding the jacket close to you and taking a deep breath of his scent. It was so distinct, so unique, so.. him. Your fingers trace over the fabric, a mental image of him appearing in your head. Your breath hitches in your throat, and your other hand hooks your panties down.

You take a pillow, placing the jacket above it. You straddle over it, forcing the pillow between your thighs. You lean down, burying your face in the jacket as you start grinding on it. Your pussy rubs over the cloth of his jacket, and you can’t help but whimper at just the thought of that.

You were like a woman possessed, chasing your own high as you kept his jacket close. It didn’t take long– his scent drives you mad, almost crazy, and just a few moments later, you let yourself unravel. Sweaty and tired, you collapsed on top of the jacket, coating it with your sweat and essence.

You woke up in a panic, your dad’s knocking alarming you. You sit up straight, tossing the jacket to the side and yanking your blanket over your legs. “Yeah, dad?” You clear your own throat, stretching out your limbs. “Joel’s here, and I’m going.” He says from the outside of the door. “Alright, drive safe!” You call out.

You make out the thuds of his boots down the stairs. You then eventually hear the engine of his car. You look out your window, waving your hand as your dad honks the car before driving off completely.

You get up, picking a pair of shorts from your drawer and putting them on. You grab the jacket from the side of your room, sighing to yourself before stepping out. You walk downstairs to the smell of a fresh coffee pot and some pancakes.

“Figured you could eat somethin’.” Joel’s voice grounds you, his back facing you as he finishes cooking the last pancake. “Coffee’s there, if ‘ya want.” He points towards his right, the tone of his back muscles visible through his shirt. You nod, setting the jacket on one of the table chairs. You help yourself to a cup of coffee, taking a sip before sitting by the table. He turns around to face you before slipping the plate of pancakes in front of you.

“I have to head out to the hardware store, d’ya wanna come?” He asks, sitting on the chair across from you. You nod, taking a fork and getting a bite out of one of the pancakes, “Mhm. Should let me change though.” Your voice is muffled, you haven’t finished the bite. “Now, sweetheart, I believe it’s bad manners to talk with your mouth full.” He grins at you, a smug look spreading across his face.

You roll your eyes, swallowing it before locking eyes with him. “Let me shower and change, Miller.” He chuckles, nodding as he takes a bite of a pancake. You finish your cup of coffee along with the pancake with a satisfied hum before standing up.

Oh! You almost forgot his jacket.

You reach over to the hunched cloth on the chair, grabbing it and sliding it in front of him. You’re off to the shower now, your footsteps echoing throughout the hallway.

He swears you’re trying to fuck him over.

After your little banter, you slip him his jacket and you’re off on your feet. He shakes his head with a smile before his eyes glaze over his jacket.

Just as he was going to turn his gaze away, something caught his eye. A stain. A dried-up stain that left a darker patch on the hem of his jacket. It couldn’t be water, it would’ve dried up normally. He’s familiar with it. After fucking around with multiple women in a variety of compromising situations, he’s all too familiar with what it was.

Dirty. Fucking. Girl.

He takes a deep breath, the confines of his shorts tightening around his hardening erection. He looks down at it, shaking his head.

This is fucked. He thinks, his hand going down to palm his cock through his shorts. He grabs the jacket, bringing the stain close to his nose to get a whiff of it.

Fuck. You smelled amazing. Something sweet, something fresh. By now he’s rubbing his cock with his hand, hips bucking up into nothing.

“Joel! Mind handing me a towel?”

Your voice cuts through his heated session. A grunt caught in his throat, shaking his head and trying to shrug it off by clearing his throat. “Yeah, erm,” He lets go of the jacket, “Where?” He stands up quickly. “Should be one by my room.” You hum from the shower.

“Fuckin’ hell.” He mutters to himself, dragging his feet up the stairs and towards your room. He creaks open the door, scanning the room for your towel. He sighs, walking in and looking at every corner. Your scent is everywhere, making his head spin and cock harder.

He finds your towel hooked on the back of your door, and relief washes over him. He grabs it hastily, pulling a top you discarded days ago with it. It drops down to his boots, and he stares at it. A white lacy tank top, one you wear at home only. He takes a deep breath, every fiber of his being screaming no.

This isn't right, he's too old for you.

He was just going to put it back where it came from. What’s the harm in that? He was just going to put it back nicely, as if this never happened. He scoops it up, the soft feel of the fabric a contrast to his rugged hands. Then it hits him. Your scent. He can smell it all over the top. Didn’t even need to bring it close to his nose to be able to get a whiff of it.

He folds it neatly before tucking it in his pants.

Oh, he was going to hell for this.

It took you days to notice that some pieces of your clothing went missing. First were the tank tops you wore at home, you always tucked them away by the first drawer of your cabinet. Second were the laced bras you bought from a city a long time ago, you mostly just use it when you’re out. Then finally, your favorite white lace thong.

Joel started to come over more frequently, always by the front door with a pack of beer. Your dad was more than happy to let him in. It was strange, some pieces of your clothing came back during the days Joel was over. You thought nothing of it.

Not until you saw him sneaking about the door of your room. He had just excused himself to go the the bathroom, a routine you picked up on ever since he came over more. It was like a tick in your brain– you just needed to know what he was truly doing in there.

Instead, you catch him by your room, thong in hand, nose-deep, and cock hard. You were by the lower part of the stairs, enough to get a good view of what he was doing. Your eyes widen in shock, a grin tugging at the corners of your lips.

You had him hooked.

Joel knew how fucked up it was. He was inviting your dad for drinks and a good time, only for his main objective to be to sneak into your room and snatch a few pieces of your garments. All for what? Jerking himself off late at night, when all of his pillows are covered in your scent, when all he can think about is the way your hips move, the way your tits bounce.

He knew how fucked up it was, cumming on your garments, moaning your name, and imagining how sweet your pussy would feel wrapped around his cock. He knew how fucked up he was.

But it was better than actually touching you, than actually crossing the line and fucking his friend’s daughter. He kept a safe distance, he kept boundaries, and he made sure he never stepped the line. So, surely, this was better, right? He’d slip into your room, grab a bra, a thong, or a top, and he’d be satisfied. And that was enough.

It had to.

But goddamn you were making it hard. You were making him really hard.

You knew how to push his buttons, knew how to drive him to his limits. Every outfit you put on for him just got more and more enticing. And for tonight, his eyes are now shamelessly scanning every curve and dip of your body.

The hour was late, your dad had excused himself to his room– his head was hurting. It was only you and him now, sitting on the couch, in front of the television. The past few moments were pure torture for him. Every skin-on-skin contact with you made him go crazy, and every time you walked past him, he could just inhale your scent.

He has one of the couch pillows set over his thighs, a weak attempt to cover up the hard-on he earned just by looking at you. Your eyes were glued to the screen, a knowing smile displaying itself on your lips.

20 minutes pass, and so far, he wouldn’t budge off the couch or even get a new bottle of beer. “Would you like a new one?” You turn your head towards his direction. He hums, nodding, “Mhm, sure.” You walk over to the table, grabbing a new bottle of beer before walking back to him. You bend over a bit, handing it out to him.

His eyes lock in on your chest, the soft flesh of your boob peeking out through your low-cut top. And for a moment, he stays like that, mind completely distracted by the view in front of him. “Joel?” You ask innocently, beer bottle still in hand. He clears his throat, nodding his head before taking it out of your hand.

He quickly takes a sip, trying to focus on what shows the television is playing. You smile to yourself, taking a seat beside him. You have a finger over your mouth– you feel the tension, and you scooch closer to him. “What’re ‘ya doin’, kid?” He asks, his voice low, eyes never leaving the screen. “It’s cold.” You shrug.

He turns his back on you, his body facing the other way. Your eyes graze down on his back, admiring the way his muscles bulge through his shirt. Then, you catch a glimpse of your thong in his back pocket.

That was it.

“You know, it’s weird..” You start, looking at him. He looks over at you with his eyebrows raised, “Hm? What is?” You hook your finger on it, pulling it towards you in one swift motion. You dangle it in front of him, a smug look on your face.

“Never took you for a pervert, Miller.”

He looks at you, eyes wide with shock as his grip on the pillow tightens. “M’kay- fuck, I can explain–” He starts, standing up and letting the pillow fall to the ground. Your eyes lock with his boner, a smile forming on your lips. “Yeah?” You tilt your head to the direction of his boner.

His eyes look down for a second, assessing himself. He sighs, running a hand over his face. “Been sneaking around and stealing my things when you could’ve just asked nicely.” You tut, standing up on your feet. “I know you want to fuck me, Joel.” You take a step closer to him. He looks at you, unsaid thoughts crossing over his eyes. He sighs before shaking his head.

“Not here.” Is all he says before picking you up and placing you over his shoulder. You giggle quietly, feet dangling in the air as he makes his way to your room. He fumbles with the door knob before clicking it open and setting you down on the bed. He locks the door behind him, turning around to face you properly.

You’re on your knees, fingers hiking up and glazing over your thighs. He eyes your movements, shaking his head. He walks closer to you until all you can see in front of you is just his tall frame. He grabs your chin, forcibly tilting your head to make you look at him. You don’t utter a word, your eyes scanning the entirety of his face.

“Makin’ it so fuckin’ hard to control myself around you, angel.” He rubs his thumb by your bottom lip. You poke your tongue out, eventually taking his thumb in your mouth. “Just so happens you don’t have enough clothes to cover yourself with when ‘m around, is that it?” He looks at you with a dark gaze, his other hand reaching to unbuckle his belt. You nod, the sides of your lips curling into a smile.

He takes his thumb out, tossing his belt to the side. He sits down on the edge of the bed before unbuttoning his pants.

“Bend.”

His voice drops an octave lower, his hand gesturing to his lap. You’re dumbfounded, lips parted with shock. “What are ‘ya, deaf?” He glares at you. You shake your head and do as you’re told, bending over his lap. He yanks your cotton shorts down, the cold air hitting your bare ass. “No panties?” He asks, his hand groping and getting a feel of your ass. You shake your head, squirming under his touch.

You flinched as the sharp sound echoed throughout your room, a sting following– hot and immediate.

“Words, baby. Let me hear ‘ya.” His gruff voice cooed from above you, his hand soothing over your flesh. “Deliberately wearin’ nothin’, hm? Is this for me, angel?” His fingers rub against your pooling hole. “Y-Yes.” You shook out the word, your hands pressing against his thighs.

Another slap. “Yes what?” Oh, he sounds pissed.

“Yes d-daddy-!” You whimper, your knees pressing together. He leans down on you until his lips are just by your ear, “Now you’re gonna have t’be quiet if you want me to fuck ‘ya properly, understood?” He presses a kiss to the top of your head. You nod your head, a tear slipping out of your eye. “Aw, poor baby.” His thumb brushes over your cheek, wiping your tear away, “Does it hurt?” He hums. “N-No daddy, promise!” You say earnestly, trying your best to be good for him.

“Count for me, sweet girl.” He orders, his tone leaving no room for protest.

His hand landed on the flesh of your ass, sharp and unyielding.

“O-One.” Your voice trembled under the contact.

“Wearin’ nothin’ but short skirts and cropped tops, tryin’ to kill me.”

The next landed with no hesitation, your cheeks retracting at the contact.

“Two!” You bite your lip, muffling your whimpers.

“Intentionally wearin’ nothin’ underneath those pretty white bottoms.”

The next was harder than the last, more painful– the impact of it spreading heat through your skin.

“Three..!” By now you were crying, your pretty pink cheeks glistening with tears. He pulls your body against his, letting you lean against him. His hands were brushing against your ass, a tender touch– a contrast to his earlier actions. “Did so good for me, angel.” He kisses your cheek, his arms wrapping around your waist, “Makin’ me so proud.”

You straddle on his lap, taking one of his legs between your thighs. You start moving, eager for the friction. “What’s this? Pretty baby beggin’ to get fucked?” He coos against your ear, the palm of his hand on the back of your head. “Y-Yes please, please.. been so g-good for you..” You whine, moving your hips faster. His hands travel back to your waist, holding you in place before flipping you over and letting you lay on your back.

He pulls away, tugging his pants along with his boxers. Your mouth waters at the sight of his cock, long and girthy, twitching and begging to get buried inside of you. Your legs unconsciously spread open, your pussy all on display for him. He smiles at you, leaning over you before kissing your forehead.

“Keep quiet. Think you can do that f’me, baby?” He whispers, his hands on the back of your knees. You nod, your pussy pulsing against the tip of his cock. He leans down, pressing your thighs to your chest as he pushes his cock deep into you. Your knees touch your shoulders, and your hands find their way to his.

Your pussy is stuffed, and you lightly tap him as a signal for him to give you a few seconds to adjust to his size. “Little girl taking me in so well.” He breathes, his hips staying in place. You bite down on your bottom lip, trying your hardest not to make a sound.

Just when you thought he was all in, his hips pressed further against you, driving the extra inches of his cock inside you. “D-Daddy..” You hiccup, tears flowing from your eyes as your legs tremble in pleasure. “I know baby, I know.” He kisses the tips of your eyes, nodding, “Don’t worry. I’ll stretch you out real good, angel.” He whispers by the side of your ear. “Have you beggin’ for more in no time, you want that, yeah?” He lets out a low moan, burying his cock deeper. You try to relax your body, nodding at his words.

His grip on your legs tightens, his hips rocking into you. A moan slips out of your mouth, and he’s quick to cover it with his hand. You look up at him, beads of sweat forming around his forehead, some of his hair sticking on his skin. He looks down at you, his eyes gazing at your chest– your hardened nipples moving against the fabric of your top. He removes his hands from the back of your knees, relocating them to grope on your tits.

He grabs the fabric, tearing it into two impatiently. You gasp at the contact, his hips snapping rapidly as he grunts by your ear. Your tits bounce, and this only fuels him further, “You’re so beautiful, angel,” He praises, peppering kisses on your hands, “Always so good for me.” Your legs hook around his waist, his other hand making its way to your neck. He puts pressure on your airflow, your hands wrapping around his arm.

The obscene sound of your squelching pussy and his invading cock fills the room, and you start to feel light-headed. Your eyes roll to the back of your head, your back arching against his towering body. You clench around his cock, your legs pulling him closer to you. “Need me buried deep in your pussy, yeah, angel?” He smirks, his other hand teasing your nipples. Your pussy pulses with his words, your head nodding frantically. “M-Mhm- mmfh..”

“You needed this so badly, huh?” He asks, his fingers glazing over your clit. You buck your hips up, desperate for his touch. “So pretty for me.” He rubs your clit with a soft and teasing touch. “M-More.. pleasepleaseplease– hngh–” You gasp, “So close, daddy!” He nods, adding more pressure to your clit.

He looked so perfect right between your thighs, his large frame towering over yours, his hands exploring your body. His hips staggered, “This pussy is mine, understand me?” He lets go of your neck, hands pushing the back of your thighs to your chest. You nod, biting your lip while tears threaten to spill from your eyes. “D-Da- haaah– yours, all y-yours..!” He speeds up the pace, his fingers working their way on your clit.

Your hands fall to your sides, your mind solely focusing on your release. “Just needed t’be fucked stupid.” He whispers, pulling his cock out before slamming it back in. Your back arches, and you’re met with your release. His hands land on your hips, pulling you towards him as he thrusts his cock into you one last time.

He holds you still, his hands kneading on your hips as he leans over you. You feel his cum seep into you, steady ropes of it shooting inside you. He keeps still, making sure that you got every last drop. You feel breathless, your hands finding their way to his chest.

He brings one of your hands to his lips, pressing a soft kiss on your fingertips. “So good for me, sweetheart.” He pulls out, collapsing by your side. He snakes an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

He scans your face, his hand cupping your face. He rubs his thumb over your cheek, leaning closer to kiss it. He was so tender, so sweet with you– like you were the most precious thing to him. His hand rests over the back of your head, cradling you to his chest. You sigh contently, your eyes fluttering as your breathing steadies itself.

He kisses the top of your head, muttering sweet nothings and praises as you drift off to sleep in his arms.

Every girl gets her wish.

white lace divider by @chilumitos , cupid divider by @ioveartfilm ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ !

a/n: my second work! tried to do something new DOMJOELAHA, please feel free to correct me about any mistakes i made! i hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it! reblogs, comments, likes, or any kind of interactions are deeply appreciated!! xo, pearl!

tags ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ @pedrostories @syd-djarin @knockk0ut @joelscowgirl @rav3n-pascal22 @joelsdagger @joelmillerpascal @joelmillerihardlyknowher @tokkiwrites @taeslarityy @tcmmysheiby @magpiepills @joelsrose @slowdivinqs @mssalo @il0ve-urm0m @ladybirdswritings @fuckyeahdindjarin @joeloverture @wannab-urs @amyispxnk @yxtkiwiyxt @littlcdarlin @joelscurls @goldenispunk @coquettepascal @hellishjoel @joelslastofus @punkshort @iamasaddie @almostempty @gutsby @arcanefox207 @sanarsi @pedrohub @katiexpunk @lover-of-books-and-tea @joyceyayo @loveryoushouldcomeoverr @anenay @ashleyfilm @inept-the-magnificent @skullieispunk @iknowisoundcrazyreads @callsignmedusa @pixelspunk @puduvallee

#never took you for a pervert miller #joel miller #explicit #smut #dd/lg #daddy kink #praise kink #dacryphilia #tumblr #oneshot #2k~5k

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pedrostories · 5 months ago

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Eyes on the Mirror - part 1

Pairing: neighbor!Frankie Morales x f!reader Rating: +18, NSFW Words count: 2631 Summary: You're at a turning point in your relationship with Frankie, he tells you that his mother insists on meeting you. Tags/Warnings: POV second person, no use of y/n, reader wears dresses, heels and uses make-up, no other description of her is given, no mention of her skin tone and she doesn't blush, no description of her hair, Frankie can lift her but he’s a hunk of a men you know, mention of food, established relationship, enemies to lovers, smut, fluff, kissing, mention of unprotected p in v, nipples play (f receiving), oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), panties in mouth (don't know how it's called in English, I just know that I like it lol), Frankie is our canon PEK and also the perfect boyfriend okay, mention of being caught (well, to be more specific, to be heard lol), pet names. Let me know if I forgot something and I'll add it right away. A/N: This has been a long journey and I think it took me longer than expected. Second part is coming tomorrow. It's an emotional work, it's smut, but it's smut with feelings and I think I put a lot of myself into it. So I ask you to be especially delicate. This Frankie is the same guy from You look like a fun place to sit and Give me more Anyway, let me say a few thanks because I can't believe I had two people volunteer to be my beta, I'm very lucky. Kate @aurorawritestoescape and Ally @arcanefox207 The fact alone that you took some time to read and proofread my stuff is so important to me and you have given me so many helpful suggestions and advice, I am very grateful ❤️ Thank you Odi @joelmillerisapunk , to let me blather, to cheer me up, to always have the right words, I don't know how you do it, you're literally a gem ❤️ We’re going back to the emotional unavailable men agenda asap but for the moment I hope you’ll enjoy my lover boy neighbor!Frankie who is crazy about his girl 🥰 English is not my first language, any mistake is still on me, so if you come across one I’m very sorry. Frankie Masterlist ⎮ Masterlist ⎮ part 2

You and Frankie have been together for four months now, and you’re incredibly happy. Your neighbor, the man you spent a year hating, revealed himself as the best man you’ve ever been in a relationship with.

You haven't said “I love you” to each other yet, you're taking it slow and you're perfectly fine with that, you know you have strong feelings for him but you don't know if he's ready to say it and the last thing you want is to ruin the best relationship you've had because of words said too soon.

So you respect his timing without forcing his hand. And still you often think you don't even really need to say it, all you really want is to keep being with him, the man who can make you laugh in a second, with whom you like to do everything from the most mundane things like grocery shopping and running errands, to talking for hours and sharing everything with him, cooking, going to parties and concerts, even bickering.

And sex.

Oh, Frankie is a fucking magician.

The most shockingly fiery and at the same time sweet lover you've ever had.

You feel you can be yourself at all times with him, he knows your flaws and frailties and accepts them. And from where you were starting out it already feels like a considerable accomplishment. You never thought that the man who used to spend time judging you, once you penetrated his armor, was actually such a tolerant and nonjudgmental person.

You haven't moved in together, but you spend almost every night together, and yet, you are still trying to navigate your relationship without making the other one run off before taking the next step.

So when Frankie tells you that his mother would love to meet you, you get a little scared but you try to put on a good face.

"You really don't mind?" he prods you.

You can never hide anything from him; Frankie has an ability to read your mind, the talent that you had never found in a man.

His eyes scan you and he has a cunning little smile as he’s standing on the other side of the table, eating the eggs you prepared for him.

“Yeah, don't worry, it's okay,” you nod, your movement a little forced, and Frankie notices it.

“You're nervous, huh? Look it's normal,” he tries to reassure you, his hand slides across the table until it meets yours.

He squeezes it gently and then intertwines his fingers with yours.

“I'm sorry, she's been nagging me for at least a month now, I've managed to keep her at bay until now but she grilled me yesterday and told me that she was expecting us for dinner on Friday.”

“Yeah...I just feel a little pressure, you know, but it's okay,” you admit.

“Babe, she will like you very much, I'm sure.”

You look into his eyes, those big eyes the color of coffee and chocolate, and the comfortable glow they give off immediately takes away part of the weight you feel on your chest.

“Are you sure?” you murmur.

“Of course!” he smiles at you, ”Well, you're a little sassy but...”

You slap his hand “Frankie! You're not helping me!” you complain.

“Come on, I'm kidding. She’s going to adore you, I have no doubt about it,” he chuckles.

“Mmmm we’ll see” you still mumble with uncertainty.

"Come here," he says softly.

You get up and walk over to him before he welcomes you on his lap and you wrap your arms around his neck. He rests his forehead on yours looking into your eyes and repeats softly, “she will adore you…not as much as I do but she sure will”

The thing is this with him, he's been circling around that word for weeks, so you're pretty sure he's going to confess sooner or later.

"What if she doesn't like me?" you ask him and bite your lip, looking at him expectantly.

“Uh, I don't want to stop fucking you, you know... so, you'll have to stay in a clandestine relationship while I'm dating a woman, personally chosen by my mom.”

You kiss him, muttering “god, you're so...”

He giggles and asks "what am I like?" tightening his grip on your waist a little tighter and pulling you closer to his chest, your tits pressed against him.

“An incredibly lovely fucking bastard.”

________________________________________

You are in the kitchen preparing dinner, which in your case means putting take-out pizza on plates, as you hear Frankie come in.

“Hey, are you here?”

He gave you his keys a few weeks ago to make it easier for you to get around.

“In the kitchen!” you shout to him.

You hear his footsteps approaching from the hallway until he comes in with a bag.

“Hey, baby.”

You walk up to him to give him a kiss, he immediately puts down the bag and hugs you tightly. “mmm I missed you. What's for dinner?”

“Pizza,” you tell him smiling through your eyelashes and stealing another kiss, his beard tickling your cupid's bow pleasantly “And I was thinking about…uhm…your cock for dessert.”

He squeezes your butt, chuckling, “So eager, huh?”

“For you? Always,” you purr, looking into his eyes, veiled with desire.

His stomach grumbles slightly making you giggle, “Do you want to eat first?”

“Uh, no,” he whispers, and as he does so he slips two fingers under the straps of your dress and pulls it off, letting it slide to the floor.

You're in your panties in front of him, no bra, he looks at you spellbound with a smirk that unknowingly puckers his lips, "do you know how beautiful you are?"

His eyes move from your face down to the crease of your neck, your cleavage, your breasts, your stomach, slowly, as if he is drinking from your body, the source that keeps him alive.

He takes his time, still hasn't touched you but you'd swear you've never felt more caressed than now, nurtured, sensed, accepted in your body's every disheveled and flawed manifestation.

You could swear you could moan from that alone.

When his hands approach your hips you want them so badly that you instinctively lean into them to meet his palms, the warmth of his skin welcoming you.

You cling to his broad shoulders, bringing his body closer to yours.

He lifts you up as if you weighed nothing and lays you on the kitchen countertop, next to the sink.

Your legs hang over the edge as he commands, “open wide, baby,” and settles in between, still fully clothed.

“Frankie, please.”

“You know what I like?” he asks with a smirk, ”the way you light up as soon as I touch you. God, it drives me crazy the way you instantly become a needy little animal, you know that?"

You feel your eyes heavy and your voice shaky as you repeat his question, “You know what I like? The way you know exactly what I need.”

He smiles, leaning down to your neck to bite the soft skin over your pulse point and soothing it right after with his warm tongue.

He lowers himself onto you, leaving a trail of kisses on your beating chest, pausing on your tits and spreading his lips over your nipples, first one and then the other, caressing them with his tongue, swirling it around. You moan with each touch, tilting your head back as he sucks them harder, his beard pinching you gently, his warm lips enveloping them.

You pull his cap off and sink a hand into his dark curls.

He knows you so well, it is as if he has memorized your every little reaction and in his mind has written himself a manual on how to make you completely lose control.

He continues to work on your nipples, grazing them with his teeth, licking them up and down with his tongue, sucking them between his lips, hard and covering them with his saliva. His tongue goes around your areola, returning to your little pebble every time you pull his hair a little harder and mewl.

He suddenly leaves your tits and returns to your neck, you groan in disappointment but his tongue immediately soothes you trailing up to your jaw and licking over your lips, inviting them to open for him and dragging you in a sloppy, feral kiss that leaves you breathless.

His hips are rocking into you, brushing over your damp underwear while you wrap your legs around his waist, pushing him against your core.

His eyes are dark with lust as he moves one of his hands over your soaked underwear, brushing your folds with his knuckles, “I’m going to make you scream my name so loudly, baby”

“That’s exactly what I want,” you prod him, biting down softly on his lower lip. “Do your magic, Morales.”

You loosen the grip of your legs, gently pushing his shoulders to invite him to lower himself, and Frankie grumbles jokingly, "bossy".

He kneels in front of you holding his hands down on your back, just above your butt and pushes you toward him, you falter for a moment balancing on the edge of the counter but his grip is strong and secure.

You run a hand through his curls, tugging slightly.

He licks a strip over your panties, taking the fabric between his teeth, without stopping to look at you.

A fucking tease.

He stills for a moment and then kisses your clit.

Then he moves his flat tongue flat down, almost to your tight hole and then back up, again and again, lingering on your clit with quick flicks of his tongue.

The fabric of your panties is wet with his saliva as a new stream of pleasure floods you, soaking them even more.

“Oh fuck, yes,” you holler.

He looks at you mischievously. “Thinking about it… we should take some measures to make sure you stay quiet, honey, you know?” he nods to the half opened window right behind you.

You glance back and then blurt out, “oh, whatever, let them hear us.”

Frankie chuckles at your impatience. “Do you really want to put on a show for the whole neighborhood?”

“There are curtains, they can't see us,” you frown

“But do they need to hear us?” he says as he pulls off your panties, sliding them down your legs.

He sniffs them for a moment- “fucking sweet, darling” - while you wonder what he's going to do, then rolls them and stands back up, sneaking his hand behind your neck and looking at you authoritatively, his lips pursed in a smirk.

He runs his thumb over your mouth, stops in the center and pushes gently, silently commanding you to open it. The moment your lips part he thrusts your panties into your mouth. “That's it, good girl” he coos.

It’s so wrong, keeping your panties in your mouth like that, your tongue numbed with the taste of it and your body tense under Frankie’s gaze. But also fucking right.

He graciously holds his power over you, always considerate of your need while he plays with your mind in a delicious nasty way.

He caresses your cheek, moving down to the column of your neck, wrapping his fingers around it, “Don't try to take them out or you won't get what you want,” he gently orders. “Can you behave for me?”

You nod.

He gives you a smirk and gets back on his knees and admires your glistening pussy for a moment. “Always so fucking wet for me,” he whispers before sinking into you again, licking and sucking on your clit and down on your folds, his nose hitting your most sensitive part.

When you’re basically dripping on your inner thighs, he slides two fingers inside you, so easily moving over the spot he knows makes you see double.

His fingers are inside you up to his knuckles when he curls them, pushing and grasping.

You are thrown into a frenzy almost immediately as he gently hits you with his fingertips again and again, sucking avidly on your clit as you’re stifling your moans by clenching your teeth on your panties.

He laps at your folds so thoroughly, then goes back on your bundle of nerves, sloppy wet noises fill the air mixing with your gasps as he scissors and pushes into you.

He hums against you, whines evenly, you watch him through your eyelashes as he palms himself from above his jeans, seeking some relief.

He doesn’t stop until he feels your legs shake and your stifled mewls trying desperately to get out of your throat.

Your orgasm crushes over you like a wave, leaving you quivering and breathless.

He gets back up and removes the panties from your mouth, kissing you with his mouth still smeared with your essence.

“You’ve been so good, baby.”

You pull him by his shirt protesting, "You haven't got anything yet, though.”

“That’s not a problem, hun, we can eat something and then you’ll eat me. Dessert, remember?”

You giggle “deal.”

You steal another kiss from him before slipping your dress back on and setting the table.

As you eat you notice the bag he left in a corner by the kitchen door.

“What is that?” you ask, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh, I almost forgot, it's a gift for you."

You squint your eyes “For me? You didn't have to!”

Frankie smiles “I saw it in a store and thought of you. Open it.”

You get up and go for the bag, not before giving him a kiss.

When you open the bag you find a dress.

Very simple, black, not too low-cut, with a tulip skirt.

As you're looking at it, leaning it over your body to see the length, Frankie suggests that you could wear it to his mother's.

____________________________________________

“Are you ready, honey?”

Frankie's voice is muffled by the bathroom door as you're finishing putting on your lipstick.

“Almost, you just need to help me with the zipper.”

Frankie opens the door and peeps into the bathroom.

He stops behind you, admiring you in the mirror as you stand there with your lips parted, leaning slightly over the sink, your legs slender from your heels, you wear the dress he bought you, unzipped at the back.

“Jesus, you’re a vision,” he breathes. “Maybe we should skip dinner at my mom’s.”

He approaches you and settles his big hands firmly on your hips.

“Come on, Frankie, be serious,” you giggle.

“I'm serious,” he replies in a rough, deep voice.

He leans down to leave a trail of kisses down the exposed skin on your back, his soft lips send shivers down your spine and you are almost on the verge of giving in.

You set your lipstick down on the sink countertop and turn to look at him pouting

"You can't do this to me now, you know we can't skip it.”

“Well, it might help you relax though,” he continues to flirt, his lips curved into a little smile.

You’d fall for it any other day but not now that you’re trying to figure out how to impress someone you don’t even know.

Frankie told you something about his mom, how protective she is and overall pretty conservative, you’re the exact opposite.

You don’t know why he stays so positive about the dinner, you’re pretty sure she will hate you.

One look from you is enough to let him know how nervous you are.

Frankie leaves a light kiss on your shoulders and says. "Okay, I'll behave, turn around."

He pulls up his zipper looking at you in the mirror, “Anyway, I wasn’t lying, you look really beautiful.”

You smile softly, feeling your heart fluttering.

general tag list: @baronessvonglitter , @milla-frenchy , @thundermartini , @harriedandharassed , @almostempty let me know if you want to be added or removed and I’ll do it right away.

Archive tag: @pedrostories💗

Thank you so much for reading!

#eyes on the mirror #frankie morales #tumblr #series #ongoing #explicit #smut #2k~5k #f!reader

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pedrostories · 5 months ago

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Eyes on the mirror - part 2.

Pairing: neighbor!Frankie Morales x f!reader Rating: +18, NSFW Words count: 3814 Summary: Dinner at Frankie's mom's is a disaster, she doesn't like you at all but her son doesn't fail to show you how much he likes you instead. Tags/Warnings: POV second person, no use of y/n, reader wears a dress and heels, she has hair but it's not described, no mention of her skin tone, she doesn't blush, she understands Spanish (but I didn't write sentences in Spanish because I don't know how to do it and I don't want to do it badly when I'm already writing in a language that is not my native), Frankie's mom is pretty conservative, traditionalist and closed-minded and she's mean towards reader, unprotected p in v (do better irl, please), sex in front of a mirror, oral (m receiving), Frankie is a good man ❤︎ and we love that for him. A/N: It's an emotional work, it's smut, but it's smut with feelings and I think I put a lot of myself into it. So I ask you to be especially delicate. This Frankie is the same guy from You look like a fun place to sit and Give me more. Thanks again @aurorawritestoescape and @arcanefox207 for your precious help and advices ❤️ I made a few changes from the first draft, English is not my first language, any mistake is still on me, so if you come across one I’m very sorry. @joelmillerisapunk just 🥹🥹🥹💖 Part 1 ⎮ Frankie Masterlist ⎮ Masterlist

Frankie's mom has the same eyes as her son, brown, big and deep, but there is a sharpness in them that does not belong to Frankie's.

She has a simple, well-groomed appearance, wearing a white tunic dress that comes down to her knee, her hands are slightly cracked but her manicured nails are painted a pearly pink.

She is a short, thin woman with the haughty, imperious appearance of someone who doesn’t let anyone step on her toes, a woman ready to bargain, to work hard, to take care of an entire household without anyone's help.

She's a tough lady and you're pretty sure she hates your guts.

She addresses you rather nicely but you can tell something is wrong.

Her tone of voice sounds mocking and she's constantly whispering things to Frankie in Spanish that you don't hear well but you're pretty sure aren't anything nice.

“So what do you do, dear?” she asks you with a forced smile, sitting at the head of the table as she has arranged you and Frankie facing each other.

“I…um…work in a graphic design studio,” you mutter.

Frankie quickly adds, “She's so good at her job!”

The way he’s trying to enhance your skills since you arrived moves you, but his mom doesn’t seem impressed.

Mrs Morales is intimidating, staring at you like she’s trying to catch every single flaw you have.

You can't even use your usual sarcasm because she would surely think you were insolent and certainly not right for his son.

“Have you done anything that I might have seen? Any national commercials?” she prods.

“Um, I don't think so, we're a pretty small studio at the moment, we've mostly worked on graphics for local stores and websites for professionals here, you know.”

“Oh.” She raises her eyebrow. ”I see.”

Trying to compliment her, you say the food is delicious, the best you've ever eaten, and she reserves a cold “thank you”

Then she presses you again, “Can you cook?”

You lower your gaze to your plate and admit, “no, actually, I'm not very good at cooking.”

“What do you usually eat?” she asks suspiciously.

"Um...well...I can cook pasta and eggs..." you try to say and she looks at you in shock as if you just said donkeys can fly.

“Mom, please” Frankie tries to calm her down and she hisses at him “she will starve you!”

He hisses in turn “I am not perished! And she’s adorable, she’s smart, kind, funny and beautiful”

You feel Frankie's sorry look comforting you from across the table, he's doing what he can and you are truly grateful, but right now there’s nothing that can make you feel happy to be here.

You don't want to fight with her because you love Frankie and you know he loves his mother, you don't want to lose him because of scowling at her.

You see her giggling and shaking her head and you feel like crying but you don't, you don't want her to add ‘pathetic’ as one of your flaws.

She turns to Frankie and says something like, “How can you be with someone like that?” in Spanish.

Frankie leans over the table and reprimands her, “Mom, stop it.”

She responds irritated in Spanish, “why? She is no good at cooking, and that job? Tsk, you don't want to marry her, do you?”

Frankie rolls his eyes and hisses, “Mom!”

You understand Spanish just fine but all this whispering is putting a strain on you, you just want her to see how much you care about Frankie and for her to like something about you.

Even the dress didn't have the effect you had hoped for, she looked down on you even though her son had chosen it.

You brought her flowers and a cake to be nice and she huffed about the flowers because she would have to find a suitable vase to put them in and as for the cake, you bought it, so obviously it’s another proof of your failures in the culinary field.

She waves her hand at Frankie to shush him and turns back to you.

“Do you want anything else, sweetheart?” nodding at the serving dishes in the center of the table with another fake smile.

Your stomach churns and you respond politely that you are full.

She turns back to Frankie, squinting her eyes, "she won't even eat! how is she going to give me grandchildren?!”

You look at your hands resting on your lap, feeling lousy and tired.

Frankie must see this clearly because he finally blurts out, “Mom, if you don't stop now, we're leaving! She has done nothing wrong to you to be treated like this”

Mrs. Morales brings a hand to her chest, a shocked grimace is painted on her face.

“How dare you address your mother like that! I'm just trying to protect you, she's clearly not good for you!” She no longer even bothers to say it whispering in Spanish so that you wouldn't understand, in fact you think she said it loud and in English precisely so that her disappointment would be clear to you.

You get up while they are still busy arguing and lock yourself in the bathroom.

You knew this evening would be a disaster, but you hoped so hard that you were wrong.

You’re glad Frankie stood up for you but you never wanted him to fight with his mother because of you.

You hear their angry voices in the distance as they continue to argue and you feel so guilty.

You sit on the floor on the turquoise tiles in Mrs. Morales' bathroom, thinking only about how much you want to get out of here.

After a few minutes you hear a knock on the door.

“Honey, open up, it's me” You get up and reluctantly open the door.

“Hey, come here” Frankie says to you as soon as he sees your eyes on to the brink of tears.

He closes the door behind him and takes you in his arms, holding you tightly.

You hide your face in his chest, letting the soothing warmth of his body envelop you.

He strokes your back and whispers, “I'm so sorry, you don't deserve any of this.”

“I wanted her to like me so much,” you sob.

“I know, honey, it's not your fault. She is fixated on things I don't care about. But you don't have to worry, everything will be fine.”

You pull away from him “I don't want you to fight over me”

"She can’t treat you like that, I'm the one who wants to be with you, and I like you the way you are.”

“Yeah, but…it’s still your mum,” you murmur.

“I gave her a little speech, don’t worry, you’ll be fine now,”

Frankie smiles, leaving a kiss on your forehead and caressing your cheek, wiping away your tears. “Don’t cry.”

“What did you say to her? You didn't threaten her not to visit again, did you?” you ask worriedly. His eyes become a little shy, he’s quiet for a moment and then whispers to you, “no, I didn't tell her that.”

“What then?” his enigmatic expression that doesn't let anything out intrigues and agitates you.

He looks straight into your eyes and candidly admits, "I told her that I love you."

You've felt it in the air for some time but now that you've heard it come out of his mouth, plain and simple, you are stunned.

“Do you mean it?” You ask in a low shaking voice, looking into his big brown eyes for evidence of his sincerity.

"I've never been so serious, miss," he smiles at you, expectantly.

And then you feel you can say it, no matter how scary it is for you, “I love you too.”

It doesn't seem real to you that you have just made yourself so vulnerable in front of him, your neighbor who until a few months ago was bothering you while now you feel you have a total and deep connection with him, no matter how much you poke and bicker at each other, your heart sings every time you are with him and you feel it loud and clear in your chest as it skips a beat every time Frankie looks at you a certain way, smiling with his eyes, with those little wrinkles around them and that dimple on his cheek that you adore.

You love the way he mumbles in the morning as soon as he wakes up, the way he stretches under the covers and then again as soon as he gets up, his golden skin under the morning light, his playfully mischievous eyes that settle on you while you're still lying down trying to wake up, the way he always leans down to give you a kiss, whispering, “Good morning, princess.”

You also love how he keeps that silly little cap glued to his head at every opportunity.

You like kissing him and feeling his lips tasting like coffee, you like the way he hugs you as if he wants to shield you with his body and protect you from the world, you like the way his eyes become attentive and receptive when they rest on you and the way he listens to you, remaining silent and caressing your hand as if to invite you to tell him anything that is on your mind.

You love how loyal he is to his friends, how he takes care of people, you love when he tries to make you breakfast even though he leaves a mess in your kitchen as if a barbarian invasion passed through.

And you love him now, standing in his mother's bathroom, hugging you as if only you existed in the world.

“I love you,” you repeat and he looks at your face as if he wants to study the map of how much you truly care about him on it.

His hands slide down your back to your butt and he pushes you hard against him without breaking eye contact.

His eyes are dark, his pupils dilated, he squeezes your butt tightly and then kisses you.

You know exactly what he wants and you whisper into his mouth as soon as you break away from the passionate, deep kiss in which he engulfed you, “Not here, come on, take me home.”

He turns to the door and locks it still holding you close.

“Let it go, baby, it’s okay” he replies and winks at you.

Feeling so desired by him is a real relief after feeling stupid and unfitting all night.

He turns you to the large mirror above the sink, leans to your ear and whispers, “Look at yourself.”

His hands move up your back, reach for the zipper of your dress, and begin to pull it down.

You look at him and he rebukes you, “eyes on the mirror, honey. Watch yourself while I do it.”

He slides off your dress breathing on your skin while you keep your eyes fixed on the mirror.

You remain in your bra and panties.

He brushes against your skin, rising on your arms only with his fingertips, climbing up your shoulders, your collarbone, the point where your shoulders and your neck meet and up to the column of your neck until he reaches your jaw. He tilts your head a bit and holds your chin to make sure you’re going to watch the entire time.

He holds you so that you can lean against him, and with his other hand he reaches down to your stomach, touching the hem of your panties.

You sigh happily as he slides two fingers under the fabric and caresses your folds, slides down the sides to the bottom and pushes upward.

You moan softly, “Frankie, please”

“Don’t be impatient, babe” he reprimands.

He curls your panties between his fingers and starts brushing them over your folds, you whine at the sensation as he tilts your head down a little bit to make sure you’re seeing what he’s doing. However you would not be able to watch anything but his movements. Right, left, right, left Frankie's fingers expertly maneuver the fabric over your pussy.

Your inhibitions are long gone, everything is faded and far away.

There is only you and Frankie.

He suddenly lets go of your panties and massages you over them, soaking the material in your juices. You’re so wet that it doesn’t take much for his fingers to get wet too.

Your breath becomes shallow as his hand slithers under the fabric and he begins circling your clit.

You can already feel your legs going weak so you raise your arm and place your hand behind his neck to keep yourself more stable against him.

“Yeah, just like that honey. You want me to make you feel real good, huh?” Frankie’s voice vibrates against your neck and you mewl a yes feeling your body mold for him.

Your eyes are fixed on the mirror.

You see your hot and bothered face, your lips parted, your pleading eyes and your body impossibly tense against him.

It’s all painted there, the amount of desire and hunger that you have for him, a grimace of lust and need spread out on your features.

“Fuck me,” you babble.

“Yeah? You want my big cock inside, baby? Want me to fill you to the brim?” Frankie’s smirk is wide on his face, you see his eyes focused on you, and his commanding tone sends shivers down your spine as he doesn’t stop rubbing on your clit.

“Yes” you breathe “please”

Your legs wobble as you try to stand on your feet while he undresses.

His shirt falls on his mother’s bathroom tiles, he unbuckles his belt and places it on the countertop, he kicks off his boots, unbuttons his jeans and slides them down his legs, stamping on them to get them off his feet.

Through the mirror you see him standing behind you, wearing only his boxers, the muscles of his chest highlighted by the lights, his soft belly just above his boxers that makes your mouth water, the happy trail that goes to hide inside, his strong thighs and the imperious erection that grows between them.

It's a perfect picture of everything that makes your head spin.

“On your knees, baby, I want to feel your mouth first,” he orders you.

You immediately kneel, feeling your heart flutter in your chest, the coolness of the tiles on your shins, and his simmering gaze dominating you from above.

You caress his hips, pulling down his boxers, and taking them off, and his cock finally springs free and almost smacks your face towering before your eyes.

You take him in your hand, feeling that familiar warmth, the softness of his skin, the pulsing of his veins, as he leaks pre cum within an inch of your lips.

As soon as it slips on your tongue you feel a new slick of arousal dripping on your panties.

You lace your gaze with his, your open mouth curved at the edges in a smirk as you let him in, you love doing this to him.

You usually take in as much as you can while taking care of the rest with your hand but tonight you want to feel it all the way down, so you relax your throat as much as you can and keep sliding it until you feel the tip touch the bottom.

You have a slight hint of a gag reflex that you manage to quell right away and you keep him there, nestled inside you, pulsing on your tongue as he looks at you raptly and whispers, “God, you're amazing.”

And then you begin to suck him, slowly, enjoying every moan and every involuntary twitch of his hips, cocooning him with your tongue.

You’re fully immersed in the act, intent on giving him all the lustful pleasure you can, licking his tip like a lollipop, swirling your tongue around and collecting his oozing pre cum.

And then you go down again, spreading it on his shaft, mixing it with your saliva, hollowing your cheeks to suck him as deep as you can.

Frankie is whimpering and you know how much he’s close to the edge.

Your hand caresses his base, then you move it to his balls, with every intention of getting him to finish in your mouth and swallow everything he gives you but he grabs your wrist, stopping you.

You let him out with a pop, passing the tip over your lips and smacking it against them twice, wetting them with his pleasure.

You give him a mock pout for stopping you but the truth is you can't wait to feel him split you in two.

He smiles at you, taking your hand and helping you up, you give him a kiss with your mouth still smeared with him.

He turns you back towards the mirror and gently orders, “bend over the sink”

He slides your panties down your legs, exposing your drenched pussy, bending down to admire it, “So fucking wet…it’s all for me, baby?”

“Just for you, always,” you turn to look at him and see him leaning behind you as he reaches down and licks your folds, a long deep lick that makes you gasp.

“So good, honey, I would never get tired of this perfect pussy.” His voice vibrates on your skin sending a thrill all over your body. “It’s the only part of you that I like to see weep for me”

His rough voice charged with ardor and his words send you into a frenzy.

He comes back to stand behind you and looks at you in the mirror, resting his large hands on your hips, “You are so fucking beautiful like this.”

You feel his cock rub against your folds, and you throb intensely overwhelmed by your craving, you mewl at him and he finally aligns with your entrance and starts to push in.

You slowly stretch around him, he groans as he slides into you, every inch of his length parting your walls.

His hands still clasp your hips, holding you steady as he gives you a moment to adjust.

You're full of him and you wouldn't want to be any other way.

Frankie holds you firmly as he sinks into you, slowly at first and then increasing the pace as your moans grow rougher and closer, his balls slamming against your ass in a feverish rush.

“Fuck, baby, you’re squeezing my cock so hard.”

He pulls you toward him, his fingers reaching for your nipples, tweaking and tugging.

You can't help but look in the mirror now and what you see is the most exciting sight you've ever had before your eyes.

Your body is completely surrendered to him, your skin glistening with tiny droplets of sweat, your hair disheveled, your expression ecstatic, Frankie's hands firmly clinging to your hips as the wet, squelching sounds of his cock pounding incessantly in your cunt fill the room along with your moans and Frankie's groans.

And Frankie is literally a dream, his broad figure towering over you, his mouth roaming your neck, his hands enveloping your tits, squeezing them so right.

He’s completely lost in you, his eyes half-closed, his tongue darting out from time to time soothing your sweaty skin.

Now you know that you have never experienced such strong feelings in your life.

You thought so, but you were wrong.

It’s not the usual cliché of feeling complete with someone else, you are already a whole.

It’s the fact of knowing that you can share with him, that you do not have to be afraid to be who you are with him. It is the fact that he knows how to understand the workings of your brain and unravel the skein that tangles it. It is the fact that you can feel that there is nothing you cannot face together. It is the fact of feeling seen, perceived for who you really are and held close for it.

It's knowing that wherever you run, Frankie will pick up the crumbs you leave on the road and bring them back to you.

And you had no idea that it could really be like this.

You always thought, it's only 4 months, don't push it when in the meantime he proceeded to tiptoe into your heart without even being noticed and sat there, waiting for both of you to be ready to say the most terrifying words out loud.

Not "I need you" but "I'm so damn happy you're here", not "you're mine" but "I love holding your hand as I navigate my life.”

Not by owning, but by letting you do your own thing while you look at each other and think, “this is the person I love and I am proud of them.”

You're just out there being the most fragile human sometimes but you're never afraid to break down next to him.

Frankie comes, dripping onto your walls, his orgasm and whimpers shuddering against your body.

He wraps one of his big, strong arms around your hips and holds you up against him.

And you're safe, really safe, being vulnerable in front of a mirror, watching yourself come apart for him, feeling every inch of your body catching fire while Frankie is the match and the water at the same time.

He holds you tight until you both recover normal breathing, still nestled inside you.

He pulls out and embraces you, leaving small kisses on the soft skin near your ear, his large hands caressing your back.

“I love you so much” he whispers once you make eye contact again.

“I love you too, Morales” you smile, tracing his cheek with your fingertips.

You both get dressed and leave the bathroom.

You walk down the hallway leading to the living area as you wonder how much his mother heard. You cannot even quantify how long you were locked in the bathroom but it was worth every second.

You find her in the living room, watching TV with the volume on full blast.

Frankie approaches his mother, without saying anything, rests his hand on hers while she has her eyes fixed on the telenovela you watched with your granny.

“Do you think Javier will finally be able to confess his feelings to Lola?” you ask quietly.

She turns, just for a moment, and finally gives you a genuine smile.

For the first time you feel that maybe, after all, despite the way you and her son just desecrated her bathroom, all is not lost.

general tag list: @baronessvonglitter , @milla-frenchy , @almostempty , @harriedandharassed , @thundermartini If you want to be added or removed just let me know, thank you so much for reading!

Archive tag: @pedrostories ♥️

#eyes on the mirror #frankie morales #explicit #smut #tumblr #series #ongoing #2k~5k #f!reader

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pedrostories · 5 months ago

Note

Hey, could you do one for Javier Peña for piss kink please? :) if you can. It can be any scenario. Thank you!!

notes: it has been a minute for smut writing and especially PK, but thank you to those who are still ready to read!

Javi's Letting Go

Javi Peña x F!Reader

Warnings: Piss kink, slight piss drinking, unprotected sex, creampie, brief shower sex, rough sex, dom!javi then docile!Javi!, oral m!receiving, not proofread

18+ ONLY

- - - -

It was way too fucking humid tonight. His clothes stick to his body even after showing in his own apartment. Even his leather couch was painful to get up from.

They got another false lead today.

He was going insane. Set up a whole squad to track it for two weeks only for it to be bogus. Wasted time. Wasted money.

He wanted to be wasted right now.

So that’s what he did, right as he called you up.

When he opened the door, you were standing there with glittery lashes, a tight dress borderline wedging up your ass, and fishnet stalkings begging to be torn.

His eyes were baggy and hooded. He made no attempt to hide the way he looked up you and down, purring low in his chest as he checked your legs. A brown bottle dangled loosely from his left hand as he propped himself with an elbow against the wall.

“Already started without me?” You coo, grasping his chin with your thumb and sauntering in like you were here daily.

Lately, you were.

“Fuck, Javi!”

The bed frame rattles aggressively against the poor wall. It was hot as shit in here, but the activities between you were not helping cool anything down in the slightest.

He bares his teeth as he shoves your face into the mattress, pulling your ass flush against his hip again. He cock plunged deliciously inside you, his tip kissing your cervix.

He was trying to fuck you into oblivion.

You weren’t lost on it. The way his fingers dig a little too incessantly into your sides. He keeps re-gripping you, like he’s not happy with any place he can put his hands and keep them there. The sweat dripping from his chest onto your back makes you think he’d been thinking more with his brain too lately than his body. That’s why you’re here.

His pace is hard and fast followed but deep, harsh strokes in and out. He’s putting his hips into over drive, trying to find the spot inside you to get both of you to cum.

You’d already cum, with how much he’s been drilling you into the bed. A pillow propped right below your waist, your clit snagged perfectly against its plushness. You shivered and whined each time, but it never did him any good. He just kept going ,determined to reach his high. He could always feel when you cum. In fact, he’d usually change his own dynamic to make sure you rode yours out before going for another.

There was nothing else on his mind right now. With the way his thighs slapped obscenely against the back of yours, he wasn’t thinking about anything else except his own elusive orgasm.

“Javi—please,” you croak. You manage to tilt your head to the side, breathing in the air instead of the sweaty pillow you’d been biting the last hour. “Let me—let me suck you off this time--mmf!”

He grasps your mouth with his meaty palm and crowns over your body tightly. His hips pumping madly, in and out, while you whimper into his palm repeatedly.

You can hear his panting, like it’s desperate and hoarse. Like he’s trying to strangle his cock in your cunt. He’s been on the verge for hours and yet—nothing has crescendoed him into release.

“FUCK!” He shouts, forcing his dick deep one last time inside you before pulling out and away from you.

You let out a breath through your lips.

The slick sound of his cock beating against your pussy lips makes you turn slightly, your eyes scanning his face for the first time in a minute.

His eyes are squeezed shut, veins in his forearm and bicep flexing to their straining point as he fists his shaft at lightening speed. his nose scrunches in frustration. It’s not working.

You know he had a bad day without him saying so.

He breaths out one last time then tosses both arms into the air in defeat. His hands come down and fist his own hair, but he says nothing.

He’s staring up at the ceiling for so long, he almost forgets you’re there were it not for the gentle tickle of your lips pressing ever so softly below his belly button.

He looks down, your doe eyes staring back at him. You kiss him again there, hovering over his happy trail. He feels your pretty nails grasp his pelvis, splayed out across his lower abdomen. It’s like a tease, but he’s still trying to figure out what you’re doing.

His wet tip bumps against your chin.

“Try something f’me,” you whisper, giving it a soft kitten kiss while watching him.

He doesn’t respond, but doesn’t flinch away either.

You take that as your cue to press a little firmly into his public area. He lets out a surprised grunt.

“Shhhh.” You nuzzle your nose against his lower belly there, right above the base of his cock.

You’re doing something to him, something he’s not sure about. It’s like you’re unwinding him from the inside, convincing his body to let go of what his mind is so damn tightly holding on to. He’s too intrigued by your actions that he doesn’t have half a mind to fight it off. the alcohol in him is finally able to take over. Swimming through his veins and finally letting him breathe.

“I want you to do what feels natural,” you hum, your thumb dancing along his hairs before pushing in again.

“Oh shit—“Javi lets out a grunt again, almost a whimper. “I don’t think—“

“Then don’t.”

Your tongue swirls around his bulbous head, tasting his precum and your dried juices mingling together. You part your lips, tongue holding his cock upright so he can see his tip resting in your mouth. You jerk his lightly, just enough that he can feel tingly.

His chest rises and falls, stuttering. He swallows. He feels his hands dangle uselessly by his sides but he doesn’t mind. His stomach pulls in on itself then pushes out.

He looks at you one last time for reassurance. You nod. You’ll take it from here.

So he closes his eyes and surrenders. Floats for a minute. Only feeling you stimulating him down there, and nothing else matters.

For the first time all week, he feels cool again.

A feint hissing sound brings him back to Earth. When he looks down again, he almost falls backwards.

A steady stream of yellow liquid is leaving his tip and entering your mouth, flooding your tongue before spilling down your cheeks and chin and onto your tits and stomach.

He’s pissing in your mouth, and you’re letting him.

There’s a little tug at the corner of your lips, wanting to smile. You’re proud of him.

He should stop. Fuck he should stop, this is so wrong—he’d never defile you like this!

But his body in control now, and there’s no stopping it. He goes and goes and keeps going. Urine splattering the back of your tongue and bouncing out to trickle below. You’re absolutely covered in it, shiny under the lamp light and dampening the sheets below you as if it were yours.

The taste was bitter but you stayed still, letting him piss out everything he had drank tonight. You cup your tits below, and his eyes flicker down.

Pursing your lips, you slurp the messy stream loudly like a water fountain. He helps angle his cock so that it aims down your neck and over your breasts, splashing. The two of you grin.

It’s fucking good.

Using your fingers, you draw the hood of your clit back. Javi catches on quick and directs his stream down there. “Oohhhhh,, fuck yeah baby…so fuckin’ warm,” you moan. You spread your legs wider, one hand keeping your folds apart so he can piss on your pussy, the other groping your tit and pinching your nipples.

When he finally releases everything that was inside him, he lets out a sight. You’re completely covered in urine. his urine. Slick and smelly and sexy as ever as you play with your pussy mixed with his piss.

He falls on top of you, your body wetly pressing against his. His tongue finds your lips, uncaring of the taste of his own liquid gold as you make out heavily. He slips his cock back in, thrusts in and out deep but slowly. The two of you moaning into each other until you’re both cumming. Shivering from toe to head, he paints your walls white. You feel euphoric, your core warm and squeezing perfectly around him as you milk one another.

He kisses your collar bone, sated. “Thank you.”

It’s on the fifth night straight in a row that you’re over. He’s just pressed you flush against the shower wall, petting out a harsh pant before you feel the overwhelming rush of warm filling you and quickly leaving between your legs and down the drain.

“You’re getting better each time,” you hum, biting your lip. The sensation overwhelms you, and your own piss is joining his down your legs.

He chuckles against your cheek. “You’re gonna do it in my mouth next.”

- - - -

Taglist: @harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrsoharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee @cassiecasluciluce @loohoop @himboelover @callsignwidow @wintersquirrel @fluffygoffpanda @picketniffler @bbyanarchist

@romana-after-dark new pk for you

#javi's letting go #javier peña #piss kink #explicit #smut #tumblr #oneshot

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pedrostories · 5 months ago

Text

Touch: Part 8

Previous Chapter | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Series Summary: The Mandalorian is quite interested in what you've been doodling. What happens when he finds out?

Rating: Explicit

Chapter Summary: Tatooine is nice, Grogu... not so much.

CW: me making things up about a ship that I have no reason to even think about, smut: mutual mast (whaaat? again???) unprotected P in V, creampies.

a/n: this chapter was heavily Rough Day inspired as is the whole story, but one part from Rough Day stuck with more than the rest-- you'll see. love you @no-droids, miss you.

“This is your hyperspace map.” Din points to one screen on the left side of the ship's cockpit dashboard.

You’re sitting in the Captain's chair with Grogu in your lap.

“Both of you, pay attention.” Din snaps his gloved fingers in the child's face. Granted, Grogu had been looking around in awe of all the screens and buttons and things that neither of you had been allowed to touch until right now.

Grogu faces forward and you give him a comforting squeeze.

"You can determine your range by looking at your fuel gauge.” Din turns his helmet in your direction to make sure you’re paying attention.

You nod in understanding. “Determine your range by checking the fuel gauge. Got it," you imitate Din's rasp with a smirk.

He shakes his helmet from side to side and turns to look down at Grogu, who is looking at a different screen right next to the fuel gauge.

Din points to that one now and as he does, it starts blinking red and the alarms start going off in the ship again. Not as loud in here though. The Captain needs to think clearly.

“This is your enemy proximity warning indicator...” Din sighs softly. “Okay, get outta the chair. We got pirates. Go somewhere you can hold onto something, or strap in-” he motions to the chair beside him in the cockpit.

That is terrifying-- being where the action goes down inside the ship!? No, thank you.

The comlink in the cockpit kicks on and a voice begins speaking to Din.

“You cannot just run away after cuttin’ down four of my brothers in cold blood, Mandalorian.”

The voice rings out through the ship and makes you flinch. You look down at Din as you stand in the doorway of the cockpit. This unlike anything you’ve ever dealt with before.

Din kept you packed away safely on the Crest-- far away from whatever this was.

Pirates. Cutting down in cold blood.

The man continues to speak as dreadful thoughts of what could happen to you and Grogu floats through your head.

Din is always safe, never has failed to come home but you’re barely a Jedi. You’re realizing that now when you get scared or overwhelmed. You might be able to fight but being a Jedi takes way more time than two years.

“Gorian Shard should stick to hijacking and ransoming."

The ship suddenly jolts, and is now speeding much more quickly than before. It makes you stumble back several steps but you grab onto a doorway and hold on tight as Din weaves in and out of asteroids.

Maker--this is not what you thought Din did out here in the galaxy. Getting chased by pirates!? He was supposed to be a bounty hunter, that’s what he told you when he hired you.

This doesn’t really look or feel like hunting. It feels like being hunted–that’s what it feels like.

It’s all okay. You’re gonna be fine! Din won't let anything bad happen to you, ever. Not now!

“I’m actually going to need you to strap in. Hold on to Grogu.” Din’s voice is strained as it calls back to you from the captains chair.

You struggle to make your way back up to him, but you manage to get yourself into the co-pilot seat and strap in. “Please hold on. Pay attention too; free lesson.”

For what?!

This isn’t what you signed up for when you agreed to let him teach you how to fly the new ship. No, you thought you’d have fun in the seat he’s in- maybe take off, land the ship sometimes. Not this! This is all getting a little too real now.

The wound on Din’s leg was the start of it two years ago- when you nursed him back to health. Now he wants to you fly this damn ship sometimes, and be chased by pirates or whatever else was out there waiting for him. Now you too! And Grogu! Three more enemies start approaching from the front of the ship, not from the rear where the other three were coming from.

“Din…” You point to the screen and show him what you’re seeing.

“Three more?” He sounds confused as he turns the ship in the opposite direction. “Where did they come from?” You don’t know, you don’t care, you just want him to get you all out of here safely. You wince and hold Grogu tightly to your chest and try to cover his eyes. “No. Don’t . Let him see, he’ll be a Mandalorian one day.” You sigh and take your hands away from the child’s face so he can see all the asteroids and other ships that are shooting at you fly past.

“This just-fuck!– sorry,” you look over at Din apologetically, but he almost just hit an asteroid! You’re expected to not swear? “This is just a lot…for a child. What if he has nightmares?” You ask, your free hand now holding on to the wall on your side. You go to push for brakes that aren’t there on the floor and your whole body is stretched out in the chair beside Din as he heads straight for another asteroid. “Din. Din. Din. Din. Din.”

He’s going to fucking kill you, but at the last second he pulls up and you think you can feel the ship ding it–just scrape right along the tip-top of the giant floating boulder in space.

“Oops,” Din rasps from behind his modulator as you glare at him. “Just a scratch.”

You roll your eyes and hear an explosion behind you. Don’t wanna know. You guys keep doing this until you run around the biggest asteroid you’ve personally ever seen. There’s a giant ship hidden behind it.

“Lemme guess…umm… Gorgan–no…Gorian Shard!” You say excitedly, pointing out the window. “That’s Gorian Shard’s ship, isn’t it?” You smile very pleased with yourself for listening so well. You look over at Din after taking in the sheer size of the destroyer in front of you–

Oh shit... A destroyer?

You watch in horror as all the guns drop down from the bottom, and then the giant ships blasters on top point right in your direction. Your smile drops. "Uh-oh."

“They’ve got a target lock on us. Be quiet.” Din rasps softly. The coms click on again and you hear a new voice in the ship now.

“Stop where you are, Mandalorian.” This new voice calls out.

It’s Gorian Shard. You know it is.

“You’re outgunned.”

Outgunned?

You had just woken up, sore as all hell from your activities the night before–walking around like you just spent two days on a blurrg nonstop- when Din says let's look at the cockpit. Let’s play pilots. Now you’re being outgunned. Wonderful.

“I have no quarrel with you,” Din says calmly into the coms.

You think back for a moment, and are sure he’s never not spoken calmly around you. He’s always calm. How does the man do it? Maybe the only time was after your trip to the market when he shoved credits at you but even then, he never raised his voice.

“Ha! What a sentiment of a man who just destroyed four of my fighters.” The voice buzzes out over the coms.

Four? When did Din get four of them? You were sitting here the whole time! Your eyes might have been closed for a minute, sure, you don’t really remember.

“Surrender your ship and I will spare your lives.” The voice calls out again.

You look over at Din silently. He turns his helmet to you.

“Listen– both of you- don’t ever trust a pirate. Hold on to the kid." And then he fingers some button near the proximity warning indicator and the ship is being hurled towards Gorian Shard's destroyer.

"Din..." You draw his name out as you get closer and closer, but Din knows what he's doing and you fly right past the destroyer at hyper-speed. "I hate it." You close your eyes and shake your head. "The Crest couldn't do this."

"It sure couldn't." Din laughs through his modulator.

“We have to go where? I thought you said we were going to Mandalore.” You’re watching Din as he rubs his bare fingers along your bruised ankle. He’s got his helmet off and the sun-shields isn't up so it’s a pale darkness in your room. You’re sitting against your bed as he lays on the floor in front of you. Grogu is sleeping in your blankets somewhere beside him.

“We need a memory circuit. For IG-11, remember?” Din mumbles with his eyes closed.

You can’t look away from him. He’s really so handsome.

“What do we need the droid for anyway? He tried to kill us.” You motion to the blanket pile next to Grogu. The two of you don’t need to be nearly as quiet as you used to have to be. Grogu really does sleep like a rock. “Almost broke my ankle.” You wiggle the foot he’s running his fingers across the top of.

Din snorts softly, but keeps his eyes closed.

“I don’t know what the atmosphere is going to be like there. Or what the planet is really like at all since it was destroyed.” Din explains.

You remember hearing about the Great Purge as a child and what the Galactic Empire did to the Mandalorian people. Your aunt would tell you all the things she knew. Even if they weren’t always nice or sweet. She let you know that real bad things happen out in the galaxy. There were bad people out there that made those bad things happen.

“I'm gonna send the droid out first to see what happens.” Din’s voice is still so calm- just as calm as he was in the cockpit this afternoon.

“And then what? You go and bathe in the waters? Then you can never take the helmet back off?” Your voice is quiet and wavers slightly.

Din silently nods his head.

“And that's what you wish for?" You’re genuinely curious.

“It is. Do you not wish me to?” Din asks now, rolling his head to the side to look at you. It draws a smile on your face. You don’t want him to put the helmet back on, not at all. You won’t ever tell him that.

“I wish for you to be happy. Safe, more than anything.” You whisper to him, still grinning sheepishly. “That’s all I wish for- us all together like this when we can be." You old your hand up to him and Grogu sleeping next to him. "For you to just be safe and come back to me when you must leave. Helmet. No helmet. I'll take you as you come to me."

Your words make Din smile. A real smile. Not a sleepy ‘look, you almost broke my nose’ smile in the night. This was Din’s real smile. You wonder how many times you missed out on it because it’s hidden from you behind that helmet.

Din gives your foot a soft squeeze. It’s impossible to not think about the future with him. It never really comes up and you can see why now after that small chase today. There is no guaranteed future-- so why talk about it?

The memory of being in Nevarro with Din was more than enough to keep your heart happy, the idea that maybe one day, you'd be able to find a nice plot of land there and live in a real house-- maybe give Grogu a non-green sibling.

“Are you happy?” Din asks, his other hand ghosting across your thigh. You'll never get tired of the way his heat feels against you. It's the thing you look forward to most when the day is wrapping up and you know he's going to hold you in his arms or you'll press yourself into his back and keep him close and safe all night. “You still want to stay? Even after our run in with Gorian Shard?” Din’s fingers tickle you gently. Not enough to actually tickle, just touches.

You scoff, “Gorian Shard doesn’t scare me," you shake your head from side to side, looking at Din through your lashes. “I used to work for this guy who was a real ass. Now he was scary,” you wink at him.

He leans up careful to not wake Grogu and points a finger at you. “I was only an ass because… I liked you and knew better,” Din whispers. “Don’t call me an ass again.” He warns through a playful smirk, and lays back down, holding his arm out for you.

You crawl to him and put your head on his bare chest.

“Perfect and beautiful. From the very beginning,” Din sighs, his hand now moving up and down your back. The other holds your arm across his stomach.

“Is that the real reason you wanted to see my doodles so bad that day?” You yawn and close your eyes, listening to his heart. Din chuckles to himself. “Why is it funny?” Your eyes are still closed when you ask.

“I had already seen them- I wanted to see if you'd show me.” He says through his laughter. You keep your head on his chest waiting for more. You know by now there will be more. “You doodled all the time. I always watched you draw the child- and then the man...” Din trails off and his fingers grip you, tightly enough for you to feel it. “I got nervous you pinned for another. A man without a helmet.” You tilt your head to look up at Din with furrowed eyebrows, but he continues before you can speak. “I was jealous.” He has his eyes closed now, thinking back on that day.

You do the same and it all comes back to you like it happened yesterday. "I thought it was my secret,” you whisper to him. “I didn’t want you to know I was thinking about you like that. That I had been...picturing you that way-- I thought of you knowing what was in my notebook, and then having to fly around the galaxy with you after. I would have died.” You chuckle at the feeling of being so nervous. You were so scared. “I thought you’d be mad at me.”

“A secret.” Din sighs. “You thought I was going to kill you.” Din teases just as quietly. “I tried to not be jealous-- you weren't mine to be jealous over. But... I couldn't sleep for so long wondering who it could be. What did he look like?” Din starts to explain again. “I went through your things. Betrayed your trust. I shouldn’t have done that. But I had to know. Then I see my helmet, my beskar...” He trails off and squeezes you against him tightly. “You drew when I wasn't around, because I hadn't seen all of your doodles. Mesh'la--”

"What does--"

"Beautiful. Very fitting for the girl in her white dress," Din glances down at you, raising his eyebrows suggestively.

You roll your eyes at his compliment, feeling the heat pooling behind your cheeks and now, in your lower belly. “I wanted way more than for you to just touch me that first night,” You tease him. “I liked it though, what we did that night. It was very sexy .” You say the word slow and drag a finger up his stomach. “Maybe one day I can watch you in the dark.” You swirl a finger around his nipple and then rest your palm flat against his chest. “I’d watch you touch yourself in the dark.”

Din’s breath hitches in his chest when you speak. “I can do that for you.” His voice is steady and even when he talks. “I’d do anything for you.”

That makes your breath catch in your throat. Din…would do anything for you? You would do anything for Din. If he asked you to bathe in the waters with him you would, despite whatever was living in there waiting for you when you jumped in. You would do anything for him and to be with him like this. You snap your upper half up and look down at him with the most seriousness in your eyes you can muster. He looks up at you, confused.

“I would do anything for you. I mean it.” You lean down, careful of his nose, and give him a kiss. “I would-- Anything .” You whisper and pull away. You lay your head back down on his chest before he can respond. Din never says anything. He just places his hand on your head and holds you close to his chest like that until he falls asleep.

The next morning when you wake up, you’re alone in the sheets. You stretch out on the floor and sigh. The galaxy through these windows is incredible. You could lay here all day and watch the stars pass you by. Once you get up and change into your clothes for the day you go and look for Grogu.

Him and Din are sparring in the hull. You watch carefully as Din teaches Grogu the correct form. Grogu shows Din that he doesn’t really need good form by picking him up by the waist and setting him down ten feet to the right with the force. You smirk as Din struggles with the invisible fist around his middle. You know what it feels like, Grogu does it to you about fifty times a day. Din walks over to Grogu kneels beside him and says something you can’t hear. Now, there is an invisible force around your middle and it’s dragging you into the room Din and Grogu are in.

“Did you tell him to do this?” You ask, getting dragged right by Din. You turn your head to look at him with lifted eyebrows. “I hate when he does this.” Grogu sets you down right beside him and holds his arms up to you. “Luke said I have to stop holding you.” Grogu continues to hold his arms up to you. “Some Jedi Mandalorian you are.” You tease him playfully as you reach for him. “A cute one, that’s for sure.”

“You should probably grab your robes. It’s gonna be wet on Kalevala.” Din explains as he presses his helmet to your forehead. A Mandalorian kiss.

“What’s on Kalevala?”

As the ship door opens you’re greeted with the most beautiful sight. A giant body of water, more water than you’ve ever seen in one place. It’s breathtaking. Din was right. It is wet here. The rain drips onto your forehead as Din walks beside you with his hand on your lower back. No funny business this time.

You have to pull the hood down over your face to keep your eyes from being pelted with the drops of rain. It’s beautiful, but wet. You slip on the smooth stone path that leads from the landing pad to the castle Din pointed out on the way in. You manage to not fall but Din still grabs your wrist with his other hand to steady you before you carry on.

“Please be careful, don't fall,” Din rasps to you as you start up the stairs. It is a long way down to said beautiful body of water. You eye the edge of the steps carefully and Grogu for once, follows behind in his floating orb that sits in the corner of Din and yours’ bedroom now. Barely used anymore.

The three of you follow a droid who had been waiting for you out in the rain. It leads you down two long hallways; yours and Din’s footsteps echo as you walk slowly. There is water dripping off the hood of your robes onto the floor and also your forehead. You push the hood back, and wipe the water off your face.

Even from a distance, you can see Bo-Katan’s red hair. She smiles and waves at you as you get closer, but frowns at Din.

Something bad must have happened the last time they saw each other.

“What are you doing here?” Bo-Katan almost snarls at Din.

You’re taken aback! She didn't seem this angry last time they were together? She was nice to you. You remember that part. Bo-Katan smiled at you when you walked in just now!

Why would she be mad at Din?

Their conversation gets kind of heated– as heated as a Mandalorian argument can get, you think. Neither one of them raises their voice the entire time even though it sounds like they should be.

Din explains his plan to go to Mandalore.

This makes Bo-Katan laugh at Din. Laugh right at him! “Your cult gave up on Mandalore long before the purge. The Children of the Watch, and all the factions that came before it shattered out people.” Bo-Katan growls. It makes you want to take two steps back and one to your right to be behind Din. This woman is scary. You need to train with her for two more years and you’d be unstoppable. “Go home. With the woman. She’s nice. There isn’t anything left on Mandalore, Din Djarin.”

“I have to go. I need to bathe in the Living Waters for my transgressions.” Din explains quietly.

“You are a fool. You’d drag her there? Let her and the child stay here. They don't belong in a place like that. Let them stay, Din. I’d be a good host to them while you went to bathe .” She rolls her eyes at the last part but then her head flicks to you and she smiles. “Would you want to stay? Do you miss girl talk ? We'd have such a good time."

Uh, yes the fuck you do. To both of those things. It’s like Bo-Katan is hypnotizing you as she speaks. Girl talk sounds like fun. Gossip? A real slumber party? Maker, yes, please. She’s probably got such good snacks. She lives in a fucking castle, of course, she’s gonna have good snacks. You wonder if she’d let you sit in her fancy stone chair.

“They both come with me,” Din says flatly, completely crushing your dream of having a best friend. Bo-Katan snorts and turns her head back to Din, frowning. Her eyes move up and down on him like she's

“There are flames in the mines, Din. Not magic. Beskar came out of them one to supply our ancestors. Nothing else. It’s all superstition. The planet is dead. Raved. Poisoned.

The more Bo-Katan talks the more you think Din should just go back to High Magistrate Karga and accept that job offer. With a nice house by the hot springs. Din responds to her about a curse or something. You were busy thinking about how you'd decorate your new house on Nevarro when you snapped back to the conversation happening in front of you.

“Make up your mind.” Din rasps from behind the helmet. Woah, Din, let’s be a little nicer to your best friend Bo. Okay? She sounds like she’s trying to help him.

“You want to explore the mines so badly, go right ahead. Bring your aliit there and let them see. Try and find proof and bathe in the waters that don’t exist.” Bo-Katan is pissed off, it’s pretty evident and now you’d just like to leave. “They’re beneath the city of Sundari. The civic center.” Bo-Katan rolls her eyes and waves her hand at Din dismissively.

“Thank you.” Din says as he turns. Grogu follows him. You give a small wave to Bo-Katan but she motions over with her fingers. You start to walk to her but stop, looking at Din who is already ten or fifteen steps down the hallway.

“C’mere.” She calls you over now. Din’s footsteps stop in the hallway and he’s turned around looking at you and Bo-Katan. You’re on the stairs leading up to her fancy chair. “Do you wish to stay? You could.” She asks with concern in her eyes. “I’d hate to see anything happen to Din’s aliit .” When she says that, her eyes flash to Din quickly then back to you. “You’re more than welcome to stay. I hear you trained with the Jedi. I’d love to see what you learned from them.” She gives you a smile with her perfectly shaped lips. Who is telling everyone about you? Is Din out here giving away all of your secrets?

“My aliit comes with me. No discussion.” Din rasps from down the hallway. Bo-Katan frowns at you but takes one of your hands in her ungloved ones.

“Someday.” She coos to you, rubbing her thumb across the top of your hand. “Be safe out there, little one.” You try to hide the shock in your eyes when she calls you that but it’s hard. You’re not necessarily a ‘little one’ you’re grown. As grown as you’ll be. You’re smaller than the Mandalorian people, yes. But not enough for her to call you that. You pull your hand away from hers slowly and smile.

“Someday.” You’re calling back to her as you reach Din’s side and press yourself into him, uneasy with the exchange you had with your new best friend.

“Did you hear what she called me?” You snap your head up to Din, despite the rain as you two step outside of the castle. “Why’d she call me that? Why’d she say it the way that she did? Are you not telling me something about Bo-Katan?” You ask Din so many questions as he walks beside you back to the ship.

“What did she call you?” Din asks as he raises the ramp to the ship.

“She called me little one.” You repeat it just like Bo-Katan said it to you inside the castle. Din’s helmet snaps to you but the rest of him freezes. “What? Is that your pet name for all the women you touch?”

Why else would Bo-Katan know his sweet name for you? It’s probably not uncommon but for her to just guess correctly on the first try? No way. Not even for perfect lips and eyes and hair Bo-K. No way. She’s not that perfect.

Din watches as you stare at him waiting for a response.

“Is that what you were doing the other night when you left?” Your eyes go a little wider at his silence. “Din..?” He still doesn’t answer. “Din!? You didn’t!?” You’re in complete shock. This isn’t happening. Your worst fear as of two days ago? Because before that it had never crossed your mind that Din even spoke to other women let alone flew around the galaxy unsupervised with them. Now it’s starting; the planet in your throat is back. “Did you…and Bo-Katan– did you?” You take a step back from him and that snaps him out of his trance. His helmet shakes softly and he looks at you.

“No. Nothing’s happened between me and Bo-Katan. I would have told you.” Din explains.

You have no reason to not believe him. He’s been very honest with you in the past. “I was with her the other night because I asked her to get me something if she happened upon one in her travels. She had wanted me to come get it. We argued that’s why she wasn’t happy to see me today.” Din talks slowly, and you’re trying to pull the words out of him faster with your lack of the force but it doesn’t work.

“What did she have?” You ask quickly, trying to make up for time lost when Din speaks. “Why did you argue? Why did we even go see her today if she’s mad at you?” Din looks at you for a long time–the reason you speak to him so quickly– and then starts walking into the belly of the ship. “Where are you going? I’m tal-”

Din reaches for your hand and pulls you into the door he told you to not open or go in or anywhere near. You have to climb down a ladder to get into the small carrier below the ship. It feels heavy in here like there might be more gravity in here, somehow? You don’t know. You don’t pretend to understand how things work on the ship.

“This is an N-1 Starfighter,” Din explains as he climbs into the cockpit. He grabs something from down below, where his legs would go. “Come on. Get up here.” Din calls down to you. You look for the footing and handholds he used to climb up to get into the cockpit.

“Wh…en did you ge…t this?” You strain as you pull yourself up to kneel on the small ledge just around the outside of the pit Din is sitting in.

“When I got the ship.” It’s said like it was a two-for-one special or something that you should know about. You roll your eyes.

“What are we doing down here?” You look into your own eyes when you stare into his helmet. “What are you going to teach me now? You want me to fly this thing too?” You give him a look but Din hands you something wrapped in a black muslin bag with a drawstring. When you take it from him, you’re surprised by its weight. “Something new to put inside me ?” You roll your eyes again.

“Open it.” Din’s voice is soft as he watches your fingers fumble with the knot in the drawstring. You get it open, and inside is a cold, metal object. You almost can’t believe your eyes when you pull it out of the bag.

“Din…” You voice trails off as your fingers trail over the unfamiliar metal that’s in your hands. It’s beautiful and dark and reminds you of-- Din’s beskar. “Is this…?” You can’t even get the words out but you look up at Din and he’s nodding.

“There aren’t many lightsabers made from Mandalorian Iron, but Bo-Katan found one. I told her how badly I wanted ner ad’ika to have one. The beskar just made it more special. Like you.” Your eyes flick between the lightsaber in your hand and Din’s helmet as he speaks to you.

“What does that mean?” You’re quiet when you ask because you liked it when he called you his aliit and don’t want that to change.

“My little one.” Din rasps quietly. “We can put your Kyber crystal in it tonight, I put it somewhere safe so the other little one didn’t get it. Eat it.” Din puts his hand on the back of your neck. “ Ner ad’ika ratiin. ” Din whispers through the modulator. “My little one always.” The tip of his helmet touches your forehead.

“Why did you and Bo-Katan argue?” You ask Din, pulling away from his helmet so you can look down at your new gift. “Were you upset with her about something?” Din shakes his head and sighs.

“She doesn’t want me to take you to Mandalore. She worries it’ll be too dangerous. She tried to talk me out of it.” Din leans back in the seat of N-1 and sighs. “It is going to be dangerous. That’s why I wanted you to have this before we went there. There could be all sorts of dangers hidden away there. You need to be prepared.”

You show Din how to put the Kyber or Focus crystal into the lightsaber. You both are sitting on the floor of the carrier below the ship.

“Okay, so I think if you just snap and turn this bottom part back in like this.” You press hard on the bottom plate of the lightsaber in your hand and then twist quickly to the right. You hear a soft metallic click as everything locks back into place. The weight of the handle you’re holding suddenly feels one hundred pounds heavier. It feels good in your hands like it belongs there.

You jump to your feet, take ten large steps back from Din, and press the small button on the side of the handle and a pale pink plasma extends four and half feet out of the handle you're holding. It’s so bright and so hot you can feel it from here and it makes you squint your eyes. It hums quietly as you hold it in your hand. You can feel it vibrating softly.

“Perfect.” You whisper as you spin the handle around gracefully in front of you. The plasma moves so fast in your hand it looks like a solid pale pink shield in front of you. The dull humm whizzes past your ear as you twirl the handle in one hand by your side. “It feels so good.” You look to Din as you slice the plasma blade through the air easily. “It’s prettier than any of the ones I got to use at the temple.” You hold the grip tightly in both hands and hold the searing hot line of pink plasma up in front of your face. The heat is hot even from a foot away.

“You look like you know what you’re doing with it,” Din says with his legs splayed out in front of him, leaning on his hands behind him. “That injury I received on my leg years ago was from a darksaber.” He says it so casually. You hadn’t forgotten about the injury. You had just never asked again what happened. Din said a fight and then you just became so worried about taking care of him, it never came up again. Then you went to Ossus with Grogu and never got the chance to ask him again.

“I love it. It’s the best. Thank you, I couldn’t ask for a better one. So now we go to Mandalore-” You ask Din, strapping the saber to your belt.

“No, now we got to Tatooine. I need to see someone about a memory circuit.” Din explains, standing up from the floor. “We should be there tomorrow sometime. You should rest.” You give Din a look.

“It’s the middle of the day. Grogu doesn’t even nap anymore. When would I rest?” You ask Din looking at him through your lashes.

“Grogu is also mine to look after too. I think you forget that sometimes. Always, actually.” Din shoos you out of the carrier part of the ship. “I wonder what he got into while we were down here.” Din grumbles while you climb the ladder ahead of him.

Grogu surprisingly didn’t get into anything. You’re so pleased with him, that you give him a small handful of orange candies. He squeals with delight when you put them in the small pockets of his robe. You don’t see him again for forty-five minutes as he munches happily on them sitting next to Din in the cockpit while you go to your room. You undress and lay naked on the floor under the windows, covered by only the softest sheets you’ve ever felt in your whole life.

What Din said downstairs resonates inside your head.

Aliit. Ner Ad’ika. Ratiin.

You memorize those words. Remember how he spoke them to you. You’ll learn Mando’a for Din. So that you can speak poetry to each other in his native tongue. Say all the nice things he says to you back to him so he can understand, really know how much you care for him. You’ll learn, no matter how hard it is or how long it takes you.

The nap you end up taking is heavenly. Stretched out like a star in the sheets on the floor. You dream of all the exciting things your aliit will do together now that you’re weaponized. You still need Din to teach you how to fire a blaster pistol correctly. You’ve never actually shot one, just held one in your hands that one time.

The child is crawling on you.

“You always give him to me when I have no clothes on.” You mumble sleepily, pulling the covers up to your chin. “I just need a couple-” But you're cut off when Grogu puts his entire mouth on your right eye and eyebrow. It stinks. His breath is putrid. It makes you gag and you have to wipe his slime off your face when you sit up. You flick your hand out onto the floor and the slime splatters against the metal.

“That’s why I keep the helmet on.” Din rasps, chuckling over his words. “Stinks, doesn’t it?”

“Oh ha ha ha. The Mandalorian can crack a joke.” You wipe the remaining slime off your forehead and look at the cute child in your lap looking up at you. “You do stink. You stink so bad. Do you want to… take a bath?” Hold your hands up to him like you’re gonna get him. Grogu’s eyes go wide with terror and he bolts, faster than you’ve ever seen him move out of the bedroom.

“He needs one,” Din says, helping you to your feet. “You probably do too.” He says, wiping missed slime off your cheek.

“I do need a bath. I haven’t had a proper one since the temple.” You look fretfully at Din who just shakes his head.

“We’ll stay somewhere nice tomorrow. It’s the Boonta Eve festival in Tatooine. We’ll take one night off from the ship.” Din holds one finger up near his helmet.

You could pass away, you're so overjoyed. “Say you mean it. Please? Don’t mess with me.” You hold on to the chest plate of Din’s beskar. “Don’t play with my emotions like that. We can get good food? And sleep in a real bed? Not on the floor or squeezed together on a mat?” You’re speaking so quickly because you’re unsure if he’s being serious. “Din, I want to sleep in a real bed with you. I want that so badly and I want to watch people on the streets and see things. I want to spend my credits. Really bad. Don’t tell me you were joking. Please.” You take a deep breath in when you’re done speaking. You still have a grasp on his chest plate. “Please.”

“We could stay for two if you need it. For your…emotional needs?” Din sounds…uncomfortable with your desire for normal things.

“Do you not like good food and soft beds?” You ask, tilting your head to the side. You’re not even being smart or funny, you’re actually curious because he seems very content with his bone broth and vegetables and mats he calls beds.

“I do enjoy them.” Din rasps. “I enjoy making you happy.” You see yourself blush in his helmet. It’s crazy that the man who started your time together by telling you everything you did was wrong every chance he got, is now trying to give you everything you could ever ask for more and more. Giving you things you didn’t even know you wanted.

Fireworks are going off outside. They’ve been going off since you guys got off the ship. Now, you’re standing in front of a woman, Peli Motto. She’s looking you up and down with Grogu in her arms.

“So this is your lady ? Huh. Smaller than I imagined…being with you and all.” Peli looks Din up and down now too and then shakes her head, not understanding. “Anyway… I missed this little guy. He talkin’ yet? Sayin’ Peli?” She turns her head down to Grogu and tickles her index finger along his stomach. “Yeah, Peli sure missed her little guy.” It makes you smile how much Grogu enjoys her. He’s warbling and cooing happily. They’ve met before.

“I’m looking for an IG memory circuit.” Din rasps, ignoring her remarks and questions. Peli gives Din a look of exasperation and then flicks her eyes to you.

“Guy’s talkin’ like your grandpa.” She turns her eyes back to Din and snorts. “They don’t make those anymore. Those things are ancient history, old man.” You start to wonder how old Din actually is. He’s definitely not old enough to be your grandfather… that’s for sure, but now you’re curious. You’ve never asked. “I could ask the Jawas.” Peli tilts her head from side to side slowly like she’s thinking about it.

“Could you please. I need it for my droid.” Din explains. Peli gives him another look, up and down before she calls out to one of her pitter droids.

“What’d you need the droid for anyway? I got this beauty right here! Already not broken either!” She exclaims, pointing down to an R5 astromech while waiting for the Jawas to come to talk to her. She’s a funny woman. You like her. She seems interesting. Don't take any shit. Likes to give it. You like her a lot. The Jawas finally appear and they speak in their native tongue, which you do not understand. “Nope. No circuit. But the astromech is still available.” Peli wiggles her eyebrows at Din and then looks at you, still wiggling them. You smile.

“I need a droid that’s rated for spelunking.” You and Peli both turn your heads to Din.

“Spelunking?” Peli and you say in unison. You look at each other and then to Din and then again in unison say. “What are you spelunking?”

Din tilts his helmet to you like you should already know this. You should, but there are so many moving parts to his whole plan it’s starting to get a little confusing. Peli and you wait for a response. The droid that was sitting at Peli’s feet bleeps happily. You kneel and hold your hand out for it. It rolls to you and lets you press your fingers against its cool metal. It bleeps again happily. You smile at it.

“Cute.” You say to Din, standing beside him.

“See, your lady likes it.” Peli keeps wiggling her eyebrows.

“I need to send a droid to see if the atmosphere is safe to breathe on Mandalore,” Din explains. You remember this part now. Yes. The droid goes on the planet... yes. You remember. The R5-astromech bleeps loudly and starts to roll away. Peli grabs it by the top of its domed head and stops it.

“Oh no, you scaredy droid. It’s time to shine.” She spins the droid around back to face you and Din. The R5 blips nervously. A couple of lights flash on the front of him. "Oh stop whining. Don't be a coward. You're an astromech, act like one, don't embarrass me." Peli looks back up at Din.

“It’s falling apart, Peli.” Din holds one hand out to the droid.

“Mando its an adventure droid. R5D4 is as good as the day it came back from serving in the Rebellion. Since it’s Boonta here’s what I’ll do…half price and a free oil bath?” Peli wiggles her eyebrows at both of you again.

“C’mon. It’ll be okay.” You wave the R5 over to you and it rolls, taking its place behind your legs on the opposite side of Din. Good, it can stay there because it's just as cute as Grogu maybe, and now you're it's mother. Just a cute little hunk of rolling metal that bleeps and bloops? Yes. You want him. He's yours now and Din can find a new droid to send out onto Mandalore because this R5D4 is your second son.

“Don’t get too attached.” Din grumbles down at you. You shoot back with a look of disbelief.

“Too late.” You snip at him. “Already attached.” How could he? R5 is adorable.

Din pays Peli and takes Grogu back from her arms. “Do you think the Spaceport has rooms available? With the festival happening, I wasn’t sure.” Din asks Peli quietly.

“Oh you guys have a hot date tonight?” Peli says loudly enough for you to hear. You glance over at them, unaware that Din had asked her anything.

“Huh?” You have your fingers on the top of the R5’s dome, holding on to him gently. “I just want to sleep in a bed.” You chuckle when she asks about the hotel room.

“Does he make you sleep on the floor? Or in a closet?” Peli gives Din a look of disappointment. Her eyes moved up and down his body with a look of disgust now.

“Yes. But Grogu is the one who sleeps in the closet. I got a whole room.” You explain innocently. Din shakes his head and sighs.

“She has a bed.” He's exhausted with you already. “She chooses to sleep on the floor. And it’s not a closet…it's uh… Grogu…sized room.” Din is exhausted with this. You can tell he doesn’t want to be explaining this.

“So a closet?” Peli asks with her face scrunched up, her hands reaching for the baby again but Din pulls him away slowly.

“The child likes it.” You say to Peli. “He’s got his own bed in there. He doesn’t sleep on the floor. Unless it’s with us in our room.”

“Alright–we have to go.” Din takes two steps towards you and places a gentle hand on your upper arm. You wave to Peli as Din drags you away.

“It was nice meeting you!” You call out to her over the fireworks.

“May the force be with you!” Peli calls back, waving her arm wildly.

Din leads the four– now four with the R5– down the crowded street, Grogu’s back in his floating bassinet.. The fireworks overhead boom loudly and they fill the sky and scene below them with different colored lights. You stumble twice over the R5 in front of you trying to watch the fireworks.

“Be careful,” Din says, placing his hand on your lower back behind your robes now. His hand is hidden away from the eyes of others. Behind your robes, Din slides one gloved hand into the waistband of your pants and cups your cheek. “Do you want to spend your credits?” He rasps into your ear. “Look at all these beautiful things.” Din walks you past tables and stands of artwork and jewelry. His hand squeezes and grips you tightly as you walk and look.

“This is beautiful.” You hold up a necklace. It’s got a small almost black stone hanging from a chain, it’s wrapped in dainty silver wire. It reminds you of Din’s eyes, his hair, and his beskar. “I want this.” You look up to Din who had been gazing down at you while you admired it.

“Then it’s yours.” Din takes it from you and hands it to the vendor who places it in a small box while you rummage around in your bag for your money. Din hands you the box and you see him hand credits to the vendor while you’re still searching for yours. “Stop.” Din waves your hands away from your bag. “Another gift.” You stare up at him. Din leans into you and rasps into your ear quietly. “I’d like to watch you try it on later.” His gloved fingers dig into your ass softly.

“Okay.” You whisper as he pulls his helmet away from your ear. Din leads you down the street, buying you whatever you pick up and admire in your hands. A new sleeping dress– as Din called them. A small stained glass picture of a loth-cat that you would hang in your window. A small box of fancy-looking chocolate.

You eventually stop picking things up because he’s buying everything you touch.

The hotel is beautiful. Not as nice as the one on Canto Bight but you have a big room with windows overlooking the festival down on the street below. It’s perfect. You put Grogu to bed and close his orb. You set the R5 unit up for a sleep mode and then you go to look for Din. He’s drawing you a bath.

“Hi.” You smile at him from the doorway. He’s still in his helmet but he took the top half of his beskar off. Din turns to you and waves you in, he’s sitting on the edge of the bathtub. You press yourself into him and he runs his hand along the back of your thigh and up your ass, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“For you. You smell like Grogu.” His helmet tilts up to you and you smirk down at yourself into the helmet. “I can smell you now.” You laugh at him and wrap an arm around his shoulder.

“Join me?” Din nods at your question.

“Get in.” Din motions to the bathtub.

Once you're in and submerged in the water Din kneels beside the tub.

“You’re perfect.” He whisper-rasps as his fingers dip into the water beside your thigh. You bring one hand to his helmet and drag your fingers across the cool iron. “I like making you smile,” Din speaks so quietly as his fingers move across the top of your thigh, towards your middle. You inhale softly as you watch them dip further into the water as you part your legs for him. He sighs loudly as his fingers slip into your wet folds.

Din moves slowly against your clit, his helmet tilting up to you as you slide further down in the tub and close your eyes. It’s all of his fingers, rubbing and moving over the wetness between your thighs. No meaning or rhythm to his movements, just touching you. Feeling you.

“You make me smile…very well” You sigh out as he strums his fingers against you quickly with a little pressure. The water around his wrist splashes softly as he does it. You arch your back slightly and gyrate your hips against his fingers.

“Do you like it when I touch you? You haven’t grown tired of me yet?” Din asks as he presses his two middle fingers a little harder than the rest and focuses his motions there, around your clit instead of back and forth against it.

“I love it.” You moan quietly. “Never get tired of you.” You close your eyes as he increases his speed. “Love when you touch me.” You can barely form a sentence when Din pulls his hands away and splashes the water off them. “Nooo.” You whine, your eyes snapping open as Din stands from the side of the tub. “Unless you’re getting in?” You grin up at him as you close your legs. Din shakes his head.

“Wash. I have a surprise for you.”

It’s nice to take a real bath and wash and scrub and feel clean when you get out. You take your time a little bit, but you’re excited about what Din has to show you. You put on your new sleeping dress and quietly walk out of the bedroom and into the separate part of the hotel room that has a couch. Din’s sitting on it, the rest of his beskar is off beside his helmet.

“What’s out here that you have for me?” You walk to him and kneel between his legs. Din presses his hand against your cheek and sighs. He holds up the white box and shakes it gently.

“Can I put it on you?” Din removes his hand from your cheek and takes the necklace out of the box. You turn around and pull your wet hair off your neck. Din drapes the necklace over your head and claps it around the back.

“How’s it look?” You ask, turning so he can inspect it. He nods in approval. “I got it because it looks like your hair…your eyes.” You lean in and give him a gentle and quick Mandalorian kiss.

“Do you still want to watch me in the dark?” His voice rasps quietly. You raise an eyebrow at him and nod.

“Yes. I do.” Din nods back at you, turns the light on next to the table, and stands up in front of you. You lean forward and press your lips to his lower stomach as he sidesteps you and goes to close the curtains. It’s hard to take your eyes off him as his strong arms reach and pull the fabric closed.

Din reaches and takes his helmet off once it’s secure and no wandering eyes can see in. You’ve only seen him without it two other times and it still makes your breath catch in your throat how handsome he is.

“It’s noisy in there. It’s a lot on your senses–overwhelming if you’re not used to it.” Din says as he walks towards you. You raise your eyebrow again, not understanding. Din sits down in front of you again, turning the helmet towards him, so he is looking into the face visor. “If you hate it, just say so and I’ll take it off.”

Maker…are you gonna put the helmet on? Is that what Din is trying to say to you?

Before you can ask, Din is lifting the helmet over your head and sliding it down your wet hair. It’s tight. You wonder how this can be comfortable as the modulator slides down over your forehead. It’s dark–dark as the void in here. How does Din see anything? Once the helmet is completely on, and the speakers are directly on your ears, you hear what Din is talking about. It’s a constant static clicking in your ears. It’s annoying, sure, but then the screen behind the face visor comes on. It makes you jump back and you see a picture of Din before you, holding onto your shoulders. The screen is an entire one-hundred-and-eighty-degree image of the room you're in. You turn your head to the side slightly and you can see behind you. Like your peripheral vision is extended.

“Woah.” Your own voice rasps out of the modulator and you look at Din who’s smirking at you. “This thing’s fucking wild. Now I see why you keep it on all the time.” Din chuckles and you watch him through the screen and turn the light off. You’re plunged into the darkness and reach for Din’s legs but in a flash there is a green screen now, softly painting pictures of the darkness before you in shades of green and gray and yellow almost. “Wow.” You whisper and it raps into the dark.

“Can you see alright? You’re okay in there?” Din grabs the helmet in both of his hands and turns it so you’re looking right at him. His voice sounds like it’s coming out of a speaker. Not clear at all. It’s also raspy.

“That’s what I sound like when you have this thing on?” Your head tilts to the side and your face wrinkles up behind the helmet. Din laughs and nods. “Wow.”

“So you can see me?” Din asks after a moment of you admiring night vision, looking all around the room. You nod and snap the helmet back to him when you get a glimpse of what he’s doing out of the peripheral of the screen.

Din’s got one hand wrapped around the shaft of his cock and the other is holding the waistband of his pants down below him. You eagerly help and pull his pants down to his thighs. Then you lean back and watch as Din starts to touch himself in the dark.

At first, he just grips it gently and tugs upwards, the skin and everything moving along the hardness beneath. You can see in the dark as Din’s head falls back as he jerks himself quickly for a moment and then stops. He takes his hand and brings it to his mouth and licks his fingers. It makes between your legs throb when he does that, something about the action just got you slicked up.

“Oh wow.” You whisper out quietly but it registers in the modulator. Din smirks and spits into his palm and brings his hand back down to his cock. He palms his saliva across the head and down the shaft. Your hips start to gyrate even though you’re not doing anything, just watching for right now. Din wraps his hand back around his shaft, the other cups his balls while he strokes himself slowly. He lets out a small breathless sound of pleasure and you see the muscles in his arms flex as he squeezes.

You can't stop yourself now, you hike your sleeping dress up and bring your hands to your middle. It’s so hot watching him touch himself like this, now you know why he wanted to do it to you. It’s already soaked when your fingers find your cunt, it’s swollen and you want Din inside you but you’re not going to let him stop. You touch yourself like he did in the bath earlier, quickly strumming your fingers across your clit. It’s noisy and wet, you can hear it through the speakers in your ears.

Din’s head sits up and listens in the dark, his hand freezes on himself when he hears you. Your fingers keep moving around the wetness.

“Don’t stop.” You rasp through the modulator to him. “I want to watch.” Your fingers move in slow circles now around your clit as he resumes thrusting his fist up and down on his cock. “Go slower.” You demand and you watch as he slows down a little, not a lot but you can see he’s grabbing himself tightly as he strokes, all of the muscles in his arm are flexed. The hand he’s got on his balls moves slowly and gently as he massages himself.

“You’re so fucking…wet.” Din groans softly. “I can hear you from over here.” He pants out like he’s just run a race. His words make your hips move.

"Fuck, Din..." You moan through the voice modulator.

Din’s head falls back against the couch as you speak and now his hand moves with vigor on his cock.

“Slow down," you whimper softly as your fingers slip inside of you. “Don’t come yet.” You curl your fingers against that spot inside of you.

Din groans in frustration as he slows his fist down once again. “I want to be inside you,” Din growls into the dark as he slowly strokes himself while you time your ministrations against your g-spot with the movement of his hands.

It makes you moan softly as he thrusts against himself. He can hear what you're doing and it makes him close his eyes and sigh deeply.

You’re leaned back on one elbow, one leg stretched out in front of you, the other is bent at the knee while you finger yourself as Din struggles to keep his slow pace. He can hear your fingers inside of you.

“Please,” Din begs as he strokes himself.

You smirk behind the helmet and moan while your fingers start to curl wildly. You want to make yourself come with Din. “Okay.” You whine through the modulator. “Tell me when you’re gonna come.” You pant as your fingers slow down. The ball in your belly has started to grow and you don’t want to come before him.

Din unleashes himself at your command and he’s stroking himself with meaning. His bicep is fully flexed as he massages his balls a little faster, a little harder. You take a mental note that he likes that. You watch and touch yourself while you do. Din is moaning softly, head resting on the couch with his eyes closed.

“I’m gonna come.” Din whispers breathlessly. His legs are twitching and his hips are thrusting up into his fist as he stokes. “I-I I’m gonn-” He strains the words out as you watch the ropes leave his cock and jet out onto his chest and stomach. Din’s mouth is hanging open as his head snaps up like he can see what he just did. His words send you over the edge though, and your fingers draw your own orgasm out of you as he comes. You whimper softly through it, Din looks in your direction longingly like he wishes he could see.

Your orgasm isn’t even fully over before you are on your feet and crawling into Din’s lap. You straddle him.

“I need it.” You rasp down to him. His hand comes up and his fingers slip into your folds, feeling how wet you made yourself watching him.

“Fuck.” Din growls. His hands grip your waist and pull you down into his lap. He’s already getting hard again, you can feel it pressed up against your ass. “How badly?” Din moves your hips against his and you rock them fluidly with him.

“Please, I need it so badly.” Your voice rasps into the dark. Din reaches one hand up to cup your breast, his mouth finds your nipple easily in the dark and he sucks it between his lips. “Oh fuck.” You whimper and melt into him. His tongue circles it slowly as he wraps one arm around your waist and lifts you. His other hand leaves your mound–it’s not going anywhere– and he grabs his cock and lines it up at your entrance.

It gives you butterflies because he is big and it did hurt for a while the first time but you’re not scared. No. It’s going to feel so good. And it does, Din guides you down with the arm around your waist, not letting you sink fully down onto it. He eases you down as the head of him splits your opening. His mouth is still attached to your chest, now his teeth nibble at your erect nub in his mouth and it’s making you hold onto his shoulders. You’re looking down through the helmet and watching as he moves from one soft mound to the other, his tongue pressing flat against your flesh and he drags it up the curve of your breast and sucks the diamond peak into his mouth. It makes you shiver as he pulls you down further into his lap. Your chests are sticky with his release from earlier, but you keep going. It doesn't matter.

“ Fuck .” Din groans against your flesh as he sheathes himself fully inside of you. You cannot make any sounds. You’re not sure if it's the angle or if it’s because you both already just got off but he’s deeper inside of you than he was the first time. Your nails bite into the skin on his shoulder and he hisses sharply in pain until you start to move your hips slowly. Din lets your nipple fall from his mouth and he leans back into the couch. “Yes.” He moans softly, pushing his hips up into you.

“ Oh .” That is all you can say as he grips your hips again tightly.

“Hurts?” Din’s head snaps up and he sounds concerned.

“ No, don’t stop. ” It doesn’t hurt. It’s like pure bliss in your head, just clouds and stars and everything good you could ever imagine is flowing through you. “Please, don’t stop.” You move your hips a little faster and Din obliges you. He thrusts his hips upwards into yours as you start to lift yourself off his lap slightly. Din grips you and pulls you back down on him to meet his thrusts.

“Perfect.” Din groans as he starts to hammer his hips up into you at a brutal pace. You grip his shoulder tighter as you hover just above him and let him fuck you.

“I’m coming.” You whimper through the modulator. You hadn’t even felt it coming, it just happened, but Din keeps going with the speed and force and you’re dripping down onto him as you come. “Din. Din. Din.” You whine each time his hips meet yours. “Fuck. Din.” There are tears in your eyes from behind the helmet. You come again, almost in rapid succession as he continues. You’re trembling and you’re resting the helmet on the top of Din’s forehead because it’s like ten thousand pounds and Din’s fucking all the strength out of you.

Din groans and slams his hips into yours one last time before he pulls you down into his lap so he can finish. His hips move slowly in a circle beneath yours while he empties himself inside of you.

“ Oh my Maker.” You whisper as the tip of the face visor finds his shoulder. “Oh. My. Maker.” You pant.

Din chuckles and lifts you in his arms easily, “Let’s sleep in the real bed the little one needed so badly.” He teases as he carries you into the bedroom, and sets you on the soft sheets. They’re not as nice as the ones on the ship but they’ll do. Din lifts the helmet off your head and now you’re plunged back into darkness. Din’s lightsaber-degree hands find your waist after he crawls into the bed beside you.

“Was it good?” He whispers in your ear after he’s snuggled himself comfortably into every crook your body makes when you curl up.

You nod, already half asleep on the pillows. The thoughts of how amazing Din is run through your head and how lucky you are he accepted your plea out of the Canto Bight Casino and to someplace else– anyplace that wasn’t here.

You don’t even remember how you worked up the courage to ask. You had a couple of drinks after your shift and while you were walking out…Din was just getting onto his ship. You called out to him and asked him for a ride anywhere– that you’d do anything. He had looked at you for so long that you thought he was ignoring you or maybe didn’t hear you.

The only thing Din said was... “Are you ready to go right now?” And you were. Not really but you didn’t care. Your old life was boring and monotonous. Not this life.

“I want my own helmet.” You mumble into the dark sleepily.

Din kisses your shoulder and chuckles. “Then you'll get a helmet.”

The R5 bleeps at you from the side of the bed. You open one eye to look at him. His lights start going off and he whoops and beeps happily. You reach out and press the top of his head like maybe he has a snooze button on the top of his little dome head. R5 blips excitedly when your fingers touch him. Grogu’s floating orb appears in your peripheral.

“It’s so early. Go back to bed.” You wave both of them away with your hand and roll over to snuggle into Din but he’s gone. Beds cold. Like he hasn’t been here in a while. You sit up and look around the room but he’s not in the bedroom area of the room. “So he just locked me in here with you two and went off to do Mando things? Dank farrik.” R5 bloops sadly and you raise an eyebrow at him. “Really?” The droid bloops again in the same way. “Huh.”

Grogu grabs the edge of the floating orb and now your raised eyebrow turns to him as you see him wiggling, getting ready to pounce. You hold your finger up to him knowingly. You cock your head to the side slightly.

“Don’t…you…dare.” Grogu eyes you as you hold your finger up to him. “I had a bath las–” Doesn’t matter, before you can finish your sentence Grogu is flinging himself through the air and attaching himself around your neck. “No! Don’t! Bad baby!” You try and peel him off of you as the R5 unit starts to wheel itself around, wildly bleeping and screaming mechanically. Grogu mouths the side of your face and jaw. His little teeth never once biting down hard, just his mouth and slimy pink tongue slither across your face and now over your eye and forehead again. “NO!” You yell at him. It does not deter the child.

The R5 droid is still rolling around the room screaming in fear. This cannot be happening. Grogu never did stuff like this!? Now you have the droid making all this extra noise. Where is Din!?

“Okay! Enough!” You slide your hand up between your face and Grogu’s body and push him off of you. His little claws drag down one side of your cheek as you pull him off of you. “Grogu! Stop!” You shout at him as his claws break skin.

Grogu, sensing that you’re not liking this game actually, goes limp in your hand and you have to reach out beneath him with your other to catch him so he doesn’t fall off the bed. Once he’s in your lap and you’re now covered with stinky, sticky slime saliva on one side of your face and the other has three semi-deep scratches down your cheek, blood is pooling at the open skin and beginning to drip.

You wipe at your bloody cheek with the back of your hand at the feeling of something warm and wet on your cheek, thinking it’s Grogu’s mouth juice. Nope, the back of your hand is covered in blood and now your cheek is stinging and burning and you feel tears come to your eyes.

“Oh no.” You whine, holding the child in the crook of your elbow as you scramble out of bed as fast as you can. As you look in the mirror, the three cuts on your cheek are still bleeding and the other side of you is slick with slime. The R5 bloops from the doorway. You look down at him and sigh. “You can’t fix this, can you?” Pointing to your cheek. The droid makes a sad powering down sound and then rolls away. “Okay thanks.” You call out to him flatly.

The mirror shows you that the blood has dripped down your face and onto your chest and new nightgown. You sigh and start to draw a whole new bath. You don’t even care anymore. You bring Grogu’s floating orb into the bathroom and get in the tub.

“This really hurts.” You point to your cheek and look at him in his orb from just over the edge of the tub, you're sunk in deep enjoying the warm water. “Why’d you do it, huh?” You’re mad at Grogu even though you don’t think he meant to hurt you, the moment you shouted at him he stopped. But it did still hurt and now you’ve got three mini claw sized scratches on your face that probably need some sort of bandage.

Grogu warbles softly at you and sinks deeper into the orb so you can only see his eyes and ears. You nod at him and do the same thing behind the edge of the tub, showing him only your eyes. Grogu gurgles and warbles.

“You can play with the R5 now.” You respond to his noises. “You can’t hurt him like this!” Showing Grogu your cheek again. “Ouch.” You say slowly.

The bathroom door opens and Din is standing in the doorway.

“There’s blood all over the bed; are you menstr–” Din stops when he sees your face. “Oh.” You nod at him and flick your eyebrows up and bring one hand out of the water and hold it to the baby, dripping all over the floor.

“ Your son felt it necessary this morning to give me podracing stripes.” You sink back down into the tub so Din can’t see even though he already did. Din’s helmet tilts down to Grogu who has completely disappeared from your line of sight from below his orb.

“You hurt her?” Din asks, sounding disappointed in the child. “Not okay. Not nice.” Din points a finger at him accusingly. “No. We don’t hurt. We don’t scratch.” Din scolds the child and you hear him whimpering in his orb quietly.

“Okay, okay. He’s got it bad enough coming from me. You don’t need to go in on him either.” You feel bad for ganging up on the baby.

“But you’re bleeding.” Din holds his hand out to your hidden cheek still looking down at Grogu.

“Yeah but it was an accident. I think he was trying to play? I don’t kn– Maybe he’s teething? He did the mouth thing again, I don’t know. He’s never done anything like this before.” You let Din see the full damage. He kneels beside the tub and takes your chin in his gloved fingers so he can turn your face to the side gently.

“Got you good too. Damn.” Din sighs. “We need to see a medical droid. You’re going to need mechnosutures.”

You frown at Din and pull your chin from his hand. “Scar worthy?” The water in the bathtub splashes softly as you move. Din shrugs his shoulders.

“With some bacta-therapy you might be alright. Makes you look tough though.” Din presses his hand to the other side of your face, avoiding your gashes on the other cheek. He cups your cheek gently and sighs down at you. “Still perfect.” He shrugs again. “And beautiful.” You blush and it hurts your face. “Do you want to stay again tonight or did you have your fill of people and food and beds?” Din stands, turning back to Grogu to pick him up.

“We can leave. Are we actually going to Mandalore now?”

Din nods at your question.

You think for a long time before you ask your next question. “Can I come the whole way with you? Like into the mines?”

“I was going to have you stay-” Din starts but you nod your head.

“I know, I was going to stay in the ship but I want to come instead. I’m really good with my lightsaber. I’ll be very careful and I’ll listen to everything you say and-”

Din nods silently.

“Really?" You weren't expecting him to actually say yes.

“I’ll show you the mines and what’s inside of them. What’s left of the planet."

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#touch #din djarin #tumblr #series #ongoing #smut #explicit

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pedrostories · 5 months ago

Text

his gift

a/n: I swear this is just a Marcus Acacius blog now, sorry everyone. I'm dedicating this chapter to my girlie @221bshrlocked, who I can always count on to lose her shit with me💕 I always welcome any and all comments and questions or deep dives, if you've sent me an ask for him and are thinking that I have missed it or ignored it, I'm not! I just have so many, but I promise to get through them all! Hope you enjoy 💕xo

Warnings; 18+ no minors, vague but big-legal age gap, piv sex, dirty talk, Roman era sex toy according to me (taking a big liberty) female masturbation, soft dom Marcus vibes, and soft submissive reader vibes, also some tiny allusions to being devoured? Context is important so read and be the judge, desperate, filthy Marcus, sexy bath, let me know if I missed any! **takes place between chapter X and XI**

This is the fic I referenced in this preview

Pairing: Marcus Acaciusx F!Reader

word count: 3.1k (whoops!)

reblogs are appreciated

Masterlist series masterlist

He had not mentioned anything about venturing out, you hadn’t even noticed until his guards and his attendants flank around him, his cloak being fastened to his shoulders while you frown.

“I will be back in a few hours.” He nods to his guards and they make their way towards the door ahead of him.

“May I accompany you?” It takes two of your steps to keep pace with one of his.

“No my love, you may not.” he smiles, mischief on his face and you frown further still. “I have an errand that you cannot know about, not just yet. It is a surprise.”

“A surprise? For me?” The annoyance evaporates, and curiosity fills the whole of you.

“Yes. A surprise for you, now I must go. I will see you before nightfall. I will be here in time to dine with you.” His kiss is full of promise, and you chase his mouth for a moment before he leaves with a wink.

—

He finds you in your chambers, mending a small tear in one of his togas.

“We can have someone else do that–” He frowns, but you stop him.

“I am aware, but I enjoy it. It passes the time and I am skilled with needle and thread.” Your eyes are focused on the task, cutting at the string with a small knife.

“That, I cannot deny.” He huffs out an amused breath, resigned. “Have you eaten? Shall we dine together?” he places a small bundle under the bed and your eyes track it, narrowing at him.

“And that? Is that not my surprise?” knife safely tucked into your basket of sewing supplies, you rise and move towards it but he stops you.

“Yes, but it is not for you to see just now. I will give it to you in due time.” Softly, but firmly, he guides you out of your private chamber, and towards your meal.

He speaks of nothing and everything as you eat, plans he has for the villa, people he ran into during his errand, supplies he must replenish and you listen intently.

Hours pass and you enjoy your evening with him, sitting in the peristyle drinking mulled wine and eating honey cakes while the dogs lay at your feet. You sit out there together, laughing and speaking of all manner of things until night truly settles and it is time for bed. By the time you are cleansed, and curled up in his embrace, the package is all but forgotten.

Weeks go by, and Rome beckons him once more. People he must meet with and delegations he must lead. The lines around his eyes deepen, the grey in his hair spreads, a visual representation of how it tires him but he takes it with good grace. Above all else, he is a soldier, and soldiers do not balk when duty calls.

Despite your wish to, you cannot accompany him. It is not a place for wives, my love, his tone is soft, but firm and you have no choice but to accept. There is no doubt he will return to you, but it does not make his time away any easier to bear.

You oversee his arrangements, hand-picking the robes he will take and making sure that he has everything he needs. You keep yourself busy with the tasks of preparing his journey while keeping your house in order, ignoring the glaring absence of him looming over the horizon. He does his best to reassure you even though he himself is so busy. His hand ever a comforting weight on your hip, his lips on your temple, a soft whisper in your ear.

On the day he leaves, as you walk him to the door in the blue dawn, he reminds you with a smile. “The package under the bed, open it tonight, while you are in our bed.”

His expression is one you carry with you throughout the day and it's that unshakeable foundation of obedience that stops you from running to it as soon as the door is closed. You suspect he might know this, despite never commanding or ordering you to do anything once your relationship had been established. Once the change from slave to wife had been made.

His words ring in your ears as you sit nestled in your shared bed once the house is asleep, altogether too big and too empty without his form filling it alongside you.

Curiously, you pull apart the strings tying the small bundle closed, unable to guess just what it might be.

What greets you when you finally breach it, makes you gasp out loud.

It is a polished, sizable wooden cock. Heat floods your cheeks as you hold it in your hands, the size and shape almost identical to Marcus.

A small vial of oil falls from the seemingly empty wrappings onto your lap and the intended use of this gift is quite obvious. You laugh, inspecting it in your hands, half embarrassed, mostly aroused to know that in his absence, he still wants you to be satisfied.

It feels forbidden in your hands. Smooth as glass, the grain in the wood like the stripes of a tiger. It has been years since you touched a cock not belonging to your now husband, years since you felt pleasure from anyone that was not him, with exception to yourself. Heat blooms from head to toe to imagine him having this made for you, an ache for him grows between your legs.

It is with a rebellious glee that you slip back into your nest of pillows, surrounded by the scent of him in your linens and test the efficacy of his gift.

It helps, and you do enjoy it, but in the end it isn’t him.

When he returns, you greet him without any sort of decorum. He laughs, weary and just as eager to be home with you, the strong grip of his arms around you, the desperate edge to his lips at your neck all proclaim it.

“How I have missed you, my love.” His words seep into your skin like a balm, like a breeze on a warm day and you sigh your response.

“As have I, come, let me feed you.” You pull him towards your table, calling forth a spread and your attendants are quick to obey. He smiles, obliging you despite the droop in his eyes, the weariness of travel, the toll it all takes on him.

“Eat, and then I will have water warmed for a bath, we can retreat, spend the next few days in our bed, yes?” He pulls you forward to sit on his lap, presses his face into your chest. The grit in his hair collects under your fingernails, he smells of smoke and dry heat, his own sweat, the oil he favours and no other scent has ever pleased you more.

“My wife is wise, she knows the remedy for all.” His hands are restless at your back, spanning wide on your shoulder, taking up so much space your heart races. “I would have you bathe with me.” His lips crawl across your collarbone, his voice lower, calling forth gooseflesh.

Platters of food and good wine are set down before you, but his lips only move further up your neck, before capturing your mouth in a searing kiss. A dry, calloused palm slips under your robes, across the side of your thigh before grabbing at your backside. It pulls a laugh from somewhere and you break the kiss.

“Patience my love, eat first.” Your fingers comb through his waves and he makes a noise from deep in his chest. “Eat, and then I will bathe with you.” You kiss one cheek, then the other, he lets out a breath, nodding before reaching for bread with one hand, while holding you close with the other.

He breathes out a groan when he lowers himself into the tub, steam rising, the scented oils and salts filling your nose. The tub had been filled in the peristyle, the perfect place for it amongst the greenery and warm air of dusk.

The silver of his hair darkens to iron when he tilts his head back, fingers running through the strands to slick it away from his face. Silvery scars mar his face but they do nothing to diminish his beauty, the strength in his arms, the strong grip of his hands, he’s the picture of virility and your thighs press together to finally have him back home.

“Come my love, you promised to bathe with me.” His smile is sharp, but his eyes are soft and you press forward, following, obeying, submitting to him freely and happily.

His touch is reverent, almost shy despite the edge of pure want in his expression.

“Gods above, I could devour you whole.” He pulls you closer, slippery skin gliding as you slide right into his lap. Your breasts pressed against his chest with how tightly he hugs you and you laugh, breathless. The water sloshes over the edge with every one of his movements, darkening the mosaic below but he doesn’t even notice, he doesn’t even care. Your hands sweep over his back, his shoulders and up his neck in gentle attempt to soothe, to slow him down.

“Peace Marcus, we have all night, let me reacquaint myself.” You smile, pull back when he presses forward, relishing the way he bites his bottom lip in all his bottled up desperation. “Slow, soft.” You press kisses to his cheeks, ignoring the ache in your core at just how hard his sex is under you.

His hands flex at your sides, his sincerest attempt at control and you keep your expression neutral, keep the taunt hidden, the game fair.

“I missed you Marcus, missed you so much it was like a wound.” You rake your nails across his scalp, clean the dirt and sand from his skin while his hands slip across your belly, your thighs, while his fingers graze and pinch at your nipples. The hitch in your breath bolsters him.

“My poor—“ his lips caress at the soft skin just below your ear, dragging softly along your neck as he speaks, “neglected, lonely little wife.” The press of his fingers into the cheeks of your backside is hard enough to bruise, hard enough to make you gasp softly before he claims your mouth in a kiss that blanks your thoughts, stills your hands for a moment.

“Tell me how you missed me, tell me you imagined me in our bed.” You pant into the empty air at his words, his tone, cunt clenching in painful arousal when he maneuvers you onto his cock, hot and hard and slotted perfectly between the lips of your sex. “Did you enjoy my gift in my absence?”

The head of his cock slides deliciously against your clit, slowly, maddeningly, unraveling the strings of your arousal as well as your sanity.

“Yes-“ your arms wrap around his neck, letting him rock you onto his cock in the warmth of the water, in the open air smelling of jasmine and laurel leaves, the sun baked bricks of your home.

“I want to watch you, I want to see it, the thought of you fucking yourself and thinking of me kept me awake at night, fisting my cock and coming in my hands.” His words, his intensity, the thought of it lights you up from the inside, a sunburst of arousal bright enough to blind you.

“I want you to come just like this, want you all wet and open for me when I get you in that bed my love.” His mouth lowers, lips pressing against your nipple, the warmth of his mouth and the flicking of his tongue, then the cold air against wet skin before he moves to the other breast and repeats. His hands are a brand on your hips, rocking you back and forth, that perfect slip of the head of his cock against your clit building the pleasure in your hips, in the base of your spine.

Soft, breathy moans spill from your lips and your fingers curl into his hair, holding him tightly to your breast as you climb that steady ladder higher and higher.

“Come on, my pretty girl, come on my cock, I know you can do it.” He breathes against your chest, teeth gliding against your peaked nipple and it’s like a slow wave when it crests.

His mouth sucks harshly, making you gasp, thighs trembling as he keeps rocking you, every bump tightening the muscles in your belly as you ride out the pleasure.

“That’s my good girl, my perfect little wife with her pretty little cunt.” His eyes are black pools, lust blown and wild.

You catch your breath, heart slowing as you finish cleansing him, limbs syrupy and pliant in the afterglow of your flutters.

Once finished he rises and pulls you to stand with him, he barely lets you wipe yourself down with your clean linens before he is all but pulling you towards your chambers. Naked and stumbling through the halls of your house in the red haze of passion.

When you land in your bed, he does not follow, he doesn’t line himself up and sink into you like you thought he might.

“Where is my gift?” You rise up to lean on your elbows, momentarily lost in the arousal of him before your mind catches up.

“It is where you left it, under the bed.” Once you’d finished with it, you’d cleaned it and put it back—you frown when he pulls it out and brings it with him. Once settled between your thighs he unties the covering while his cock slips over your mound, a hot, teasing weight over your sex.

“I want you to show me.” He tosses the wrappings aside before holding the wooden cock out for you. Your eyebrows rise into your hairline.

“But, but you are home, I want you—“ your fingertips reach down to tease the head of him but he slips the wooden cock into your hands instead.

“I want to see it, I want to see how you take it.” He urges, soft tone but hard gaze and your heart races. The need to obey him, to make him happy, to oblige him makes your cunt clench. You take the toy from him and he settles on his haunches, hands lifting your legs, pressing against the backs of your thighs to hold you spread open wide for his gaze.

The wood is cold against the slicked up mess of your cunt and you’re wet enough that you don’t even need the oils, it slides right in, stretching the dark pink of your insides open for his eyes.

“That’s it, fuck yourself, how does it feel?” Slowly, you spear it into yourself, in, out, wetting it in you as his hands press harder, spreading you wider.

“Feels good—“ you pant, tongue peeking out of your mouth to wet your lips.

“It does doesn’t it, look how fucking wet you are.” One of his hands slides down, his thumb sliding through your slick at the edge of where you’re spread around the thick of the wood, he smears it against the lip of your sex, petting, sliding up to work at your clit.

“I think you can go a little faster, I think you want to fuck yourself a little harder, don’t you my love?” His thumb swirls, sliding and circling around your clit as you speed up.

Your heart races, sweat beads at your temples, heat crawls across your body under the strain of it, under his heavy, burning gaze.

The sounds are obscene, the ache of working it inside you growing in your shoulder, in the tensing of your belly but you can’t stop, not with how good it feels, now with how enraptured he is at the sight—

“Is that all you can do?” He tsks, thumb working just a little bit harder until you flutter around the toy, the pleasure taking you by surprise, thighs tensing but he doesn’t let you close them, doesn’t stop swirling, and suddenly the pleasure comes again, too quick, too strong and you whine at the intensity of it.

He pulls his hand away and removes the wooden cock from your hand and from your cunt and throws it somewhere in the linens, only to replace it with his own. A mutual groan fills the air between you, high and breathless from you, low and punched out from him. He gives you no respite from your release, no softness, he ruts—fucks you like you haven’t seen him in years.

That aspect of him that you see sometimes, the caged animal within rears its head, sharp snaps of his hips into the slicked-up, swollen, dark pink of you, heavy hands and a firm grip that reminds you, schools you on the fact that you are his.

You flutter around him again, the blunt head of him stroking, petting at that bundle of nerves only he ever seems to find until you seize, scream and gush around him, soaking him in your passion.

“That’s it, that’s it my love, take it-“ he pushes forward, turning his heavy stroke into a tight grind while you balance on that edge of pain and pleasure, ecstasy and excess. Your hands press against his shoulders, the middle ground of pulling him closer and pushing him away.

His mouth sucks at the delicate skin of your neck, teeth scraping and for a heartbeat you wish, or hope, or just imagine that he might actually devour you, moan at how much the thought excites you. His groan is loud, his cock swells before the warmth of his gift fills you, his forehead moving to press to your chest so he can watch it, watch himself spearing inside.

It’s quiet in the immediate after except for the heavy thump of your pulse in your ears, and his sharp pants against your chest.

With limbs weighed down by pleasure, you lift your hands slowly and thread them through his damp waves, admiring the warm golden skin pressed to yours. The wet spot beneath you cools, making you wince in discomfort, despite how lovely it is to be surrounded by him. He senses it though, and pulls out with a hiss and hauls you into his embrace.

“Give me a few moments, and I will have someone change the linens.” You nod into the sweet smelling skin of his chest, pressing your lips to a scar on his shoulder. “I missed you.” He whispers into your temple, soft and devastating, the animal satisfied, the man in the forefront.

“I missed you too.”

Tag list: @frannyzooey @greeneyedblondie44 @lola4pedro @artsymaddie @supernaturalgirl20 @sleep-tight1 @sherala007 @cannedsoupsucks @thirstworldproblemss @ilikechocolatemilkh @freeshavocadoooo @hrk-fic-recs @maxwell--lord @the-feckless-wonder @kirsteng42 @thisshipwillsail316 @feministfanboi @stevie75 @readsalot73 @pedrostories @tobealostwanderer @mandocrasis @elegantduckturtle @diogodxlot @alczysz17 @evyiione @absurdthirst @beskarboobs @andruxx @littlemissoblivious @1800-fight-me @maievdenoir @gracie7209 @omlwhatamidoinghere @magikfanatic @frankiecatfish @pedritoispunk @studythoreauly @missswriter @pintsizemama @mswarriorbabe80 @a-trial-run-on-paper @la-le-lu @chickadee-djarin @dobbyjen @rosiefridayrogersunday @ajeff855 @johnsrevelation @the-witty-pen-name

@zombiesnips-blog @sarahjkl82-blog @fan-of-encouragement @queenofthecloudss @deadhumourist @felicisimor @toomanystoriessolittletime @what-iwish-you-knew @pedrostories @athalien @bi-thewayy @literallydontlook @pedrosbrat @gamingaquarius @luxmundee @iamafadedmoon @nakhudanyx @littlemisspascal @grogusmum @recklessworry @heyitmelexie @killyspinacoladas @gothicxbarbie @evildxad @dragonslarimar @spideysimpossiblegirl @chemtrail-mix @breezythesimp @altarsw @artooies-scream @staygolddindjarin @softsweetedbeauty @littlemisspascal @yuiopiklmn @squidwell @just-blogging-around @bbyanarchist @girlofchaos @maddiedrmr @frasmotic @acourtofsnakes @buckybarneshairpullingkink @astoryisaloveaffair @harriedandharassed @shirks-all-responsibilities @androah @alwaysachorusgirl @dindjarinsmut @captain-jebi @gallowsjoker

@tusk89 @dadbodfanatic-x @naiomiwinchester @blazedprince @avidreader73 @mr-underhills-things @avengersfan25 @tastygoldentaters @nyotamalfoy @mymindfuckery @its-nebuleuse @missladym1981 @inept-the-magnificent @yesjazzywazzylove-blog @ladyofmidlo72 @greenvita @honey-on-your-tongue @ladylovesloki @alexiamargot06 @purple-fig @picketniffler @somedayheaven @flw3rrr @lizzie-cakes @bunnibitez @kluvspedro @bluesweaters15 @freyablack90 @frodofreakingbaggins @madnessofadaydreamer @iknowisoundcrazyreads @the-last-twin-of-krypton

#his gift #marcus acacius #2k~5k #explicit #smut #tumblr #oneshot #f!reader

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pedrostories · 5 months ago

Text

Good Pup, Bad Pup

Pairing: sub!Pero x gn!reader x sub!trans!Javi G

Words: 2.2 k

Rating: R (theres a lot of smut in this one. 18+ MDNI)

Summary: You give your subs exactly what they deserve.

Author: Mod Mouse

Warnings: Pup play, spankings, praise AND degradation, strap ons, dildos, Javi's genitalia is referred to as a T dick, pet names, and other debauchery.

Notes: I was so excited that I got to be a part of the Dom that Middle Aged Man challenge hosted by the lovely @wannab-urs . Really excited to write for characters I've never written for before. I hope you enjoy the indulgence.

A thwack echoed through the living room followed by a barely audible whimper. Pero had tested your nerve for the last time today, and he was being punished for it. With one hand, you tugged on the black leather collar adorning his neck, keeping his head pushed up, while the other hand was free to deliver the hits with reckless abandon. The slap of skin echoed through the room as Pero’s ass grew redder and redder with each spank.

You knew Pero was trying to keep the pain in, pretending that it didn’t faze him, but with every slap, you felt his head jerk. The person who was taking this punishment worse was Javi, obediently kneeling on the other side of the playroom. Watching the other pup getting punished was punishment for Javi, too which made you feel bad. He was too empathetic and kind for his own good, making him such a good pup most days. Javi so desperately wanted to join his play partner, but you had given him strict instructions to wait, and disobeying you was the last thing the pup wanted to do.

Pausing your punishment, absentmindedly rubbing the reddened skin, you glanced up at Javi. “Come here, sweet pup,” You purred, and Javi happily crawled up to you, ignoring Pero’s personal space. Pero growled a little, gently nipping at Javi, reminding him of where he stood in this dynamic. Javi was unphased since this was usual between them, but the action earned another slap to Pero’s ass.

“Hey watch yourself, mutt. You’re already in enough trouble. Now stay,” You command, giving his balls a light squeeze in warning. A sharp inhale followed by a relaxing body. You turned back to Javi, who was panting lightly, staring up at you with his big puppy dog eyes. Fingers lightly scratched under his chin sent his fluffy tail swinging from side to side, happy for the attention.

“Since you’ve been the sweetest of boys, how about you choose what toy you want Sir to pleasure you with?” Javi’s eyes widened in excitement. He barked in reply, hurrying to the toy chest. Carefully, he rummaged around the variety of devices, contemplating how he wanted to please his Sir.

You smiled as you watched Javi’s excitement. His joy was contagious and you always received secondhand happiness from his presence. But you had another pup to deal with. “As for you,” You said, turning your attention back to Pero. With strong hands, you positioned him back to the ground, making him kneel in between your legs. “You will watch from the cage. Bad boys don’t get to play with Sir.” Pero kneeled in front of you keeping his eyes on the ground defiantly. Your fingers threaded in the tangle of curls, tugging them with a little force as you made him gaze into your stare. Pero inhaled quickly, and you could feel his hardening cock twitch against your leg. A smirk formed on your lips.

“Such a little slut, huh. Cage now.” You released your grip on him and stood from the couch. Pero growled up at you but soon obeyed, slowly crawling in reluctant obedience to the metal cage in the corner lined with pillows and blankets so as to not hurt their knees. You trailed behind him watching as he settled himself into the spacious cage. You flipped the lock keeping him there.. Pero didn’t meet your eyes, his gaze stayed on the cage floor, but his fingers gripped the soft material.

A soft bark drew you away from the enclosure. You turned and smiled when you saw Javi happily holding the new strapon you had bought for the boys. Returning to the couch, you sat back down on the cushions with a smile. “I wondered if that was what you were gonna choose. Bring it here.”

With another happy bark, Javi crawled back over to you, slotting himself between your legs excitedly and dropped the toy in your lap. As of recent weeks, Javi had expressed interest in trying some of the bigger dildos in the local sex shop. Of course, you started small, training him slowly to acclimate to the different sizes. This one was his current favorite. A bright green silicone dildo with ridges down the sides. It wasn’t the longest dildo he’d played with but it was the thickest with ridges and bumps lining the sides.

“A perfect toy for my perfect boy,” You cooed, weaving your fingers in his curly brown hair and gently scratching your nails against his scalp. Javi panted under your attention, his tongue slightly rolling out of his mouth as he thrived under your praise. His body, unable to hide the happiness flowing through it, wiggled from excitement.

You giggled softly leaning over to plant a kiss on his head. “I know you're excited sweetie, but you have to get ready to play. Lean back for me and prep that sweet little hole for me.” You stood from your seat and patted the fabric next to you.

With an excited bark, Javi climbed on the couch lying against the well loved cushions. Just like the well trained pup he was, Javi slid a hand down his chest as he excitedly started toying with his T dick. A whine escaped his lips as his fingers circled the sensitive nub. You watched as his hole clenched from pleasure.

“Easy puppy, don’t want you cuming too soon,” You softly warned, giving his thighs a soft tap. “Finger yourself,” You softly commanded as you stepped into the straps of the harness, pulling the material over your bare thighs. Curiously, you glanced over at Pero. His gaze was still on the floor, but you didn’t miss the quick glances up when Javi moaned particularly loud. Pero’s eyes lingered on Javi’s hole, never admitting how much he loved licking his arousal. You smirked, but turned your attention back to the moaning sub.

Javi was already a dripping mess, his arousal already flowing onto the leather seats. It was a lewd view as his deft fingers eased themselves in and out of his hole. That was a sight you would never get over. And the sounds of squelching filled the small room as Javi picked up speed, his toes curling as the pleasure tightened in his gut. His gaze shot up to you as if remembering his place and he slowed down his thrusts, soft whimpers escaping his lips as he pulled his fingers from his hole, a long string of excitement trailing from his fingertips. After a few pants, he held his fingers up to you offering you a taste.

You moaned stroking the dildo between your fingers, feeling the power this toy gave you. Graciously, you lapped Javi’s arousal from his open hand, the musky taste filling your senses as you devoured his slick. “You taste divine as always my sweet pup. You are more than ready to take your Sir’s cock. Hands and knees,” You commanded and Javi quickly obeyed shifting so his ass presses against the silicone. Groaning at his action you ran the toy up and down his slit, Javi shivering in anticipation. The way his arousal coated the toy would give you something to daydream about for weeks.

You leaned over Javi’s back, caressing his heated skin with kisses as you pressed inside. The toy slid in with ease, filling Javi to the brim. The sounds Javi released were downright pornographic, and he grasped the leather cushion to ground himself against it.

You couldn’t wait any longer. With fast thrusts, you pushed the dildo in and out of Javi’s slick hole. Hot breath against Javi’s skin as the sounds of sex filled the room. Javi nuzzled his head into your cheek finding comfort in your touch. “Good boy,” You praised reassuring your sub. A soft whimper fell from Javi’s lips and his hips thrusted back meeting your pace.

Javi enjoyed every moment of your attention as he lost himself in the pleasure. You did too, taking as much pleasure from Javi’s pleasure. As you pounded into his hole setting a quick but powerful pace, Javi’s moans grew in volume, a clear sign of his orgasm quickly approaching. With a deft hand you slide your fingers in between his thighs and rubbed his dick between them, mimicking the pace he set earlier. Javi’s hips jumped at the sudden pleasure, but were quickly followed by the loudest moans.

“Cum for your Sir pup,” You moaned into his ear, quickening your thrusts in time with your toying. That was all Javi needed. With erratic thrusts of his hips, Javi came hard around your cock, an elongated moan accompanying it. His tired frame leaned against the arm of the sofa as he panted from the intense pleasure. You eased him down from his high with a few slower thrusts before pulling out completely. Gently you kissed down Javi’s spine before finally sitting up.

Only then did you hear the small whimpers. You turned to see if Javi was okay, but he was still in his blissed out state. That was when you turned your attention to the cage, and the sight made your heart clench. There was Pero pressed against the bars with the biggest puppy dog eyes. You could never stay mad at your pup despite the fact he disobeyed often.

You rose from your spot on the couch and crouched in front of the enclosure. Gently, you stuck your fingers through the spaces and scratched at Pero’s scalp. He was a subby mess nuzzling against your palm for any sort of attention.

You couldn’t help but coo at the sight of your strong pup being a puddle from your caresses. “What is it my sweet?”

Pero whimpered gazing up at you with his big brown eyes. He whimpered following the rules you had set up. You smiled. “You may speak.”

“I wanna play too,” He whined.

“Hmmm, well you did take your punishment well,” You considered, playfully tapping your finger against your chin. With a turn of your head you glanced back at Javi who was happily curled up on the couch watching the two of you. That popped an idea into your head.

Turning your attention back to Pero, you said. “How about you clean up your playmate? He made an awfully big mess.” You teased. Pero nodded his head enthusiastically, and you chuckled as you leaned over to unlock the cage door. Slowly, Pero crawled out of his enclosure and kneeled beside the couch. His eyes flashed between Javi’s blissed face and his dripping hole, hunger evident in his gaze.

Javi panted slightly and spread his legs for the other pup leaving his hole mere inches from his mouth. Pero glanced up at you, making sure this was okay. You smirked and with a gentle push of your hand, you pressed Pero’s face into Javi’s arousal. “Clean.” You simply commanded and Pero began to lap at Javi’s sensitive dick with neediness.

More sultry moans poured from Javi’s lips as his own fingers tangled in the mess of Pero’s locks. He used his head as leverage to rub his slick hole up and down Pero’s face. Pero loved every second as he cleaned his play partner of the previous arousal. Of course, more slick kept cuming as Javi’s second orgasm was rapidly approaching.

With a tug of Pero’s curls Javi pushed his face deep between his legs as his thighs clenched around his ears, pinning him there as he rode out his second high of the night. Javi shook with pleasure as Pero purred against his skin enjoying the rare roughness Javi gave him.

Javi uncleached himself, his body relaxing under the curtain of pleasure. You watched and Pero kissed the inside of Javi’s thigh, a rare softness he only saved for this private moments. You purred at the sight, enjoying the sight of you subs well fucked.

“Such handsome pups I have,” You praised as you brought a wet wipe across Javi’s skin.

Javi watched you as you cleaned him, a soft whimper as you delicately cleaned his sensitive dick. You smiled and kissed his forehead. “You both may speak now. We’ve finished the scene.”

“T-That was…” Javi started as a blush crept up his cheek.

“That was pretty good,” Pero humphed as he got up to join Javi on the couch.

You rolled your eyes as you threw away the wipe and grabbed the aftercare supplies (the softest blanket on the market and the shared water bottle.) “Oh come on, you love it Pero,” You teased gently and covered the pair with the material. Javi cuddled into Pero’s side and he rolled his eyes though his arm wrapped around his waist.

“Okay okay, I really fucking loved it. Are you two happy?” Pero scoffed looking away from the pair of you.

You crawled in beside Pero, gently kissing his cheek. “Very.” You purred and Pero blushed a brighter red. The two subs cuddled together as you turned on their favorite aftercare show. As the movie played on, the two of them fell asleep, Pero nuzzled into your chest and Javi’s head in Pero’s lap. As you watched their chests rise and fall with each breath, you smiled remembering how lucky you were to have such amazing boyfriends.

Credit to @inklore

All Works Taglist:

@for-a-longlongtime @romanarose

Pedro Characters Taglist:

@littlemisspascal @burntheedges

@carusolikey @thebeldroramscal

@morallyinept @lady-bess

@pedrostories @rivnedell

@pascalsanctuary @readingiskeepingmegoing

@jessthebaker @pedrit0-pascalit0

#good pup bad pup #pero tovar #javi gutierrez #threesome #explicit #smut #tumblr #oneshot #2k~5k

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pedrostories · 5 months ago

Text

How'd that get there, Mr. Miller?

pairing: dbf! joel miller x female reader summary: you’re sent to spend the weekend in a cabin by a lake with joel because your dad’s off to a work trip. warnings / contents: 18+ (minors please dni!), big unspecified age gap but reader’s in her twenties, DBF JOEL, smut, unprotected piv, f masturbation, m masturbation, oral (f receiving), pussy pronouns, pet names, soft! joel, daddy kink (??), praise kink, cream pie, no outbreak, no sarah word count: 2.9K

a/n: i recommend playing shades of cool by lana del rey while reading this, keep it on loop and enjoy °༄ !

“Well? You comin’?” Joel asks, tilting his head as if to get a better look at you. He’s just asked you to come with him to spend the weekend in his cabin by a lake. “Your dad’s asked me to bring you anyway so I dun’ think you have a choice, kid.” He clicks his tongue, his palm placed by the edge of the table.

Alright, what could go wrong? Joel’s your dad’s friend, they bonded over work– he’s a great guy. You’ve been in his place a few times, mainly ‘cause of barbecues and sports nights– he’s neat. He’s always there when you ask for help around the house or your car– he’s handy. So, what could go wrong?

“‘Right then, ‘ya should go pack up. We leave early, angel.” He says with a nod, finally walking out of the house.

Curse your dad for leaving you for an entire weekend due to a work-related thing. Curse your dad for making you spend the weekend with Joel.

Joel.

Joel, the man that you ogle at every Sunday morning when he’s out mowing the lawn. Joel, the man who always hikes his sleeves up to his forearms whenever he worked on your car. Joel, the man that calls you any pet name and leaves you blushing and well.. wet.

Joel, the man that you fantasize about at night, when you’re three fingers in, mouth agape, and whining about how he would fill you up much, much better.

Snap out of it. What were you thinking? The man’s around your dad’s age– hell, maybe even older.

You hurry upstairs to your room, pulling out a travel bag big enough for an entire weekend. You settle it by packing one red gingham bikini– for swimming, of course. Two sun dresses, a tank top with matching shorts for sleeping, one loose polo for covering, and then a summer hat. Alright, you’re set.

The drive was a blur. You immediately dozed off to sleep when your head hit the pillow by the car window. 4 hours later, Joel’s voice causes you to wake up, his hand placed on your shoulder– gently nudging your senses awake. “We’re here, doll.” He lets go as you stir, a small grin playing on his lips as you yawn.

As soon as you step into the cabin, you place your things in the guest room. “Y’know, we can switch rooms. I know that mattress is a ‘lil too old, feels weird on the back.” He leans by the doorframe, his hands making gestures that match his words. “I’m alright here, Joel.” I let out a chuckle, shaking my head.

“Alright, but don’t say I didn’t warn ‘ya.”

“Need some help around the cabin?” You hum aimlessly from inside the cabin. Just then, the front door opens, his tall frame shadowing the entrance, “‘M alright, sugar. Don’t want such a pretty girl like you doing any kind’f work.” He’s shirtless. Changed into something more comfortable when you set down your things. His chest displayed beads of sweat, his arms looked rugged, and his hair was tousled into perfect curls that almost resembled a halo. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was flirting with you.

Well? Do you know any better?

The afternoon hours dragged slowly, and you were bored out of your mind. Joel was working around the cabin, breaking wood for fire and fixing a few things for his truck. He’s caught you staring a few times now, a smirk tugging on his lips whenever he did. How could you not? When he’s right there outside your window, all his glory displayed for your eyes to witness. His shorts seem unbelievably tight, seeing as how you can practically see the outline of his cock. His arms, his hands.. they were so big, big enough to have them all over your body, over your mouth as he fucks you from behind, or over your breasts as he kneads and teases your nipples.

You backed off from the window, shaking your head as you tried to bring yourself back to reality. Sighing, you grab your bag– changing into that red gingham bikini. You let your hair down, brushing it with little care through your fingers. You reach out to the sunscreen lotion by your nightstand, applying a thin layer on your body. Think about something else, go do something else, anything else– instead of checking out your dad’s friend.

You look at yourself in the mirror, the bikini a stark contrast to your skin. You let your hands run down your sides, your hips, your thighs, your heat. You caught your bottom lip between your teeth as your index finger reached in, slowly rubbing your clit in small circles. It slips in, and your mouth forms an ‘o’ shape, whispering his name so sweetly.

Joel.

Need you, Joel.

You walk back down on your bed, laying on your back as you start fingering yourself in front of the mirror. Your other hand finds its way down your body, taking care of your clit. You add another digit, your walls clenching around your fingers.

Ah, fuck- would’ve been much better if it was you, Joel.

Your back arches and you squeeze your eyes shut, your thoughts lingering on the sight you beheld earlier. Your hips start to meet the rhythm of your fingers, your mouth whispering obscenities as you chase your release. You tear your eyes open, looking at yourself in the mirror. Your legs are spread, two fingers buried in your cunt, and a dazed-out expression.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

You hear the squelch of your skin combined with your essence, and you let your head fall back. Your hips stutter up as if to grind on something, on someone. You let out a whine, burying your digits in your cunt as you lay still, letting your orgasm wash over you. You catch your breath, regaining your consciousness as you let yourself melt in the bedsheets. Your eyes instantly snap open as you swear you heard the squeak of your door. Your neck cranes towards the direction of the door, seeing as it slightly creaked to the right, you knew.

He was watching you.

Two can play this game, you decided. You took your bikini top off, putting on just the loose white polo. You left the last two buttons as it is, not bothering to cover your peeking cleavage. Bikini top in hand, you left the room. Joel was nowhere in sight, but the front door was open– letting the afternoon sun spill into the cabin.

You walked towards his room, the door was open, but he wasn’t there. And so, you hurriedly slipped inside, dangling your bikini top right between your fingers. You place it right by the headboard, stepping back to look at it. You nod, a smile creeping on your face as you exit the room.

It would be funny, you imagine. Him coming to find that in his room, a silent acknowledgment that you knew. Getting the Joel Miller all flustered as he sees what you’ve left for him.

After your little adventure, you grab your summer hat and walk outside towards the lake. You reach the end of the porch, sitting on it as you let your feet sink in the water.

About a few moments later, you decided to go back to the cabin to help yourself with some refreshments. You figured Joel was somewhere near the cabin, gathering more wood or whatnot.

As you stepped inside, you heard muffled grunts. Your head perked up, your body slowing your steps as you approached the door to his room.

Was he..?

You pushed the door open, revealing Joel on the edge of the bed, his left hand stroking his cock as it leaks pre-cum. On his other hand, you can see the piece of clothing you left. The red gingham bikini top. His cock almost looks angry with the pinkish-red tip of it, and you can’t help but admire Joel’s frame. His face, contorted into a look of pure bliss. His chest, heaving laboredly with beads of sweat. His large hands, the other stroking his cock rabidly, the other clinging on to that bikini like some kind of lifeline.

“How’d that get there, Mr. Miller?”

Your words pry his eyes open. The grip over his cock tightening as he lets out a breathy chuckle, “How’d this-?” He holds up the piece of garment, “You really are somethin’, huh?” He stands up, tossing it aside as he backs you up against a wall. “Actin’ all innocent, like you weren’t just touching yourself and moaning my fuckin’ name.” He says the last bit in a whisper, his eyes locking with yours. “Think I don’t notice the way ‘ya look at me, angel?” He nudges the tip of his cock against your covered heat and you buck your hips up to meet it with friction. He hisses, his hands landing on your hips to make you stay in place, “You want this, baby?” He looks up at you with an earnest expression, his thumbs circling the plush of your hips as he waits for your response.

You nod, almost frantically, as you start to unbutton your garment. You’re impatient, crashing your lips on his as you wrap your arms around his shoulders. His hands fall under your thighs, pulling you up and carrying you. It’s an effortless task for him, picking you up like you’re all but a peach. His tongue swipes over your bottom lip, seeking entrance. You tilt your head to the side, your right hand tangled with his hair, the other on his cheek as you deepen the kiss and your tongue meets his. You feel his hands grope your ass, his hips grinding his cock up your clothed heat.

You let your garment fall off your shoulders, exposing your chest to him. You pull away, resting your forehead on his as you try to catch your breath. “So beautiful, angel.” He murmurs, moving his head and latching his lips on your neck. The nickname feels so contradicting now, and though you’ve heard it so many times before, this time it just felt so… good. “So beautiful, and all for me.” He hums against your skin, leaving a trail of love bites as he sets you down on the bed.

“Open up and show me.” Were his words as soon as you felt the soft bedsheets. You felt the rush of blood racing to your cheeks, painting you red. You squirm under his gaze, your knees touching as you look at him.

“Now don’t get all shy on me, darlin’.” He kneels in front of you, both hands on the flesh of your thighs, urging them apart. He dips his head down, kissing your knees up to your thighs. You hesitate for a second before finally giving in, spreading your legs apart. He lets out a low whistle, fingers hooked on the sides of your bikini as he pulls it down. “She needs me,” He smirks, his fingers rubbing along your folds, “Look at that, all wet and ready for me, hm?” He looks up at you as he pushes a finger in.

“J-Joel.” You strain.

“That ain’t my name, sweetheart.”

“Daddy.” You sound it out, whimpering as he pushes another finger in. “‘S more like it.” He leans in, his tongue licking on your clit. He drags it out slowly, allowing himself the pleasure of properly tasting you. Two fingers from him were three from you, and right there and then you knew you were fucked.

His other hand reached up to your breasts, taking a nipple between his fingers and rolling it teasingly. You lay your back, arching against his mouth. Your hands reach out to his arm, holding on to it for dear life as he laps you up greedily. At the same time, he put his fingers to work, your walls clenching around his invading digits.

“T-Think I’m gonna–” You squirm beneath him, hips bucking up to grind more of yourself against his mouth. He looks up at you, practically committing the sight to memory as he keeps the steady pace of his fingers and mouth. He encourages you, muffled grunts omitting from his mouth– causing vibrations to ripple through your cunt. This snaps something inside of you, and you finally let go. Your grip on his arm tightens, the heels of your feet digging into his back, a string of moans leaving your mouth as he slowly exits his fingers from your aching core.

He brings his fingers to his mouth, never letting your eye contact break as he brings it up to his lips, his tongue darting out and licking circles all over it. “Feel good, angel?” He asks softly, leaving kisses on your inner thigh down to your knees. You nod, trying to catch your breath. Your eyes widen in shock as he stood up, the tip of his cock leaking more of his pre-cum– still red with anger, with interest. It was twitching too, more so when he looked at the state of your gaping hole.

“Think she can take me, sweetheart?” He asks with a rasp, leaning over you to rub the tip over your dripping cunt. You say nothing, your mind is too distracted by how good he feels just by rubbing the tip against you. “Figure that’s a yes, right, sweet girl?” He holds your chin, tipping it up to face him.

There was something in your eyes, a tinge of desperation, perhaps. Whatever it was, it’s what caused Joel to snap his hips, pushing all of his length inside you. You hook one of your legs by his waist, your arms over his shoulders as you adjust to the girth of his cock. “Feel so f-full..” You mumble, looking up at him. He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before pulling away, “Doin’ so good f’me, angel.” He pulls his cock out til the tip is what’s left inside you before slamming it back in.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head, your back arching so far up on his body that your tits press up against his chest. He groans, his hand snaking around your back for support. He keeps an unforgivable pace, the tip of his cock reaching all the spots that make you see stars.

You wrap your legs around his waist, your nails digging on his back as your cunt clamps down on his cock. “Drivin’ me crazy,” He pants against the side of your ear, “You take me so well, angel.” He praises, leaving open-mouthed kisses by your jaw.

“Like y’were made for me.” He speeds up his pace, and the sound of skin slapping echoes throughout the room. His other hand reaches down to your clit, rubbing it with fervor. At this rate, you feel a knot tighten by the pit of your stomach, desperate for release.

And just then, he pulls out.

“Joel–” You start to whine, your cunt squeezing around nothing. You feel his hands by your waist, lifting you off the bed and flipping you over to your knees. Your mind had very little time to process what had happened before he slams his cock back into your needy cunt. “Shit- ah, d-daddy-” You slur on your words, lifting your ass up to meet his cock. “Mhm, doin’ so good for me, sweet girl.” He starts to move relentlessly, wanting you to break.

“Look so pretty like this.” He moans lowly, fucking into you rapidly. You arch your back, pushing your ass back against him. That earns a groan from him, “Jus’ like that, angel.” He thrusts his cock, no– buries it in you, punctuating every word with the movement of his hips.

His hands dig down on your hips, pulling you impossibly closer to him. You can feel his cock twitching inside of you, and his hips start to stutter and go out of rhythm. Your hand continues down on your clit, combining the pleasure with his cock. He holds out, wanting to feel you come undone on his cock before he fills you with his spend.

“Come on, angel.” He coaxes you, and you swear you saw heaven flash before your eyes. You moan out his name, your head collapsing on the bed as your arms give out. “Daddy–! Fuck, fuck, fuck.. Fuck!” You feel your juices gush down to your thighs, your legs trembling as he fucks you through your orgasm.

He leans down, latching his lips on your neck and biting down on the flesh, positively leaving a mark on it as he pushes one last thrust in you. “Fuck, look at you.” He pants, burying his cock further in, flooding your walls with thick, white ropes of cum. “Milkin’ it all out,” He squeezes the flesh of your ass, pulling his cock out to reveal your stuffed pussy, a string of cum connecting you both. A gush of cum creeps its way out of your cunt, and you can feel his fingers push it back in you.

You try to catch your breath, your mind completely fucked out as your body melts into the sheets. He lays down beside you, pulling you close til your head leans on his chest. “Such a good girl f’me, angel.” He kisses the top of your head gently, “Did so great, sweet girl.” He wraps his arms around you, his head leaning down on yours.

Well, you got what you wanted, didn’t you?

red gingham divider by @issysh3ll , yellow divider by @strangergraphics ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ !

a/n: this is my first ever work, so please feel free to correct me about my mistakes T w T, i hope you guys enjoyed it as much as i did writing it! i'm actually thinking of making a part 2 for this but i'm not so sure ab that, reblogs, notes, or any kind of interactions are deeply appreciated!! xo, pearl!

tags ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ @pedrostories @syd-djarin @knockk0ut @joelscowgirl @rav3n-pascal22 @joeldjarin @tokkiwrites @taeslarityy @tcmmysheiby @magpiepills @joelsrose @slowdivinqs @mssalo @il0ve-urm0m @ladybirdswritings @fuckyeahdindjarin @joeloverture @wannab-urs @amyispxnk @yxtkiwiyxt @littlcdarlin @joelscurls @goldenispunk @coquettepascal @hellishjoel @joelslastofus @punkshort @iamasaddie @almostempty @gutsby @arcanefox207 @sanarsi @pedrohub @katiexpunk

#how'd that get there mr miller?#joel miller #explicit #smut #dbf!joel #daddy kink #praise kink #no outbreak #tumblr #oneshot #2k~5k

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pedrostories · 5 months ago

Text

That Awoooo Inside You, Pt. 3

Fandom: The Wild Robot / Fink the Fox

Pairing: Fink <3s OFC fox Farrah

Rating: G all the way, don’t worry. This is keeping in the world and disgustingly wholesome. Prolly too clean for tumbles 😆

Warnings: None. It’s for cuteness and for heart.

Summary: After the events of The Wild Robot, a new resident joins the island. She’s a little withdrawn and Fink finds out why. It's not what he expected.

A/N: The end of this chapter was partly inspired by @grogusmum. She knows what she did. And if she doesn't, it's illustrated afterward.

Thank you to everyone who enjoyed my very very fluffy--in all senses of the word--tale. I had to. I just had to.

PART 1, PART 2

“Hey-ey-ey,Greedy!” Fink laughed as he called out to Farrah, her tail and back feet hanging out of the hollow of a dead tree trunk. “Just because I gave you the first turn doesn’t mean you get to eat it all! I want some! My turn! My turn!”

Farrah backed out of the hollow and down the grey stump, honey sticking to her whiskers and snowy ear tips, her front paws covered in the golden goo. “Sorry! I got carried away! I’ve never had anything like it. There’s plenty left…I think…”

Distracted by the remnants on her paws, the white fox began to clean them up, eyes wide, still in awe of the sweetness Fink had introduced her to. It was almost a contest as to what was going to win his attention–the honey hive, or Farrah’s dainty licking–but like any fox, food won out and he was shoulders deep in the tree trunk before his heart had any say in the matter.

Once he was gorged on the stuff, Fink skittered his way out from the hollow and joined Farrah in the grass. It was her turn to wait while he cleaned his own paws, but being familiar with honey, he was far less of a mess than she had been. One, two, licks of his paws and then–

He hadn’t meant to do it, but he was a fox. He did foxy things. And that meant not thinking when it came to food. It wasn’t until Farrah was ducking away from him, putting some distance between them, that he realized what he’d done.

He’d instinctually gone to lick the honey off her ears.

Now she crouched, cowered, alert, her bright eyes–one light, one dark–wide and peering back at him over her brush of a tail, and he could sense the spring that was building in her legs, her heart running as hard as her feet wanted to–

He was suddenly almost as scared as she was. “Sorry! I just– I only– your ears…” The only thing he could think to do was back up. Sit down. Her eyes were still moons in the white sky of her face.

After a couple of months on the island, she was still skittish, still easy to startle. Fink had done everything to make her feel at home, done everything he could do to show her she was under no threat here. She was quick to play with the raccoons and had even fallen asleep on Thorn’s big fat bear belly once or twice on a chilly evening.

But somehow, Fink still spooked her. Maybe he just saw it more since they spent so much time together. Or maybe he was too quick, too rough. Or maybe….

…maybe she didn’t want him to get close in that way.

He could feel his shoulders hunching, his ears drooping, and with them, he sensed a slackening of Farrah’s tension.

“Sorry, Fink, you just… I…” Stepping slowly, she stopped halfway to him and sat, nervous, avoiding his eye. “Guess I’m just a mess. I didn’t realize I still had hummy on my ears.”

Normally he would have laughed. They would have laughed together. “Honey.”

“Heh. Honey.” A little breeze shifted the grass and Farrah made an attempt at a playful sneeze, but it was half-hearted. “You can…clean my ears if you want to…”

“It’s okay,” he smiled, just as half-heartedly. “You wanna go down to the shore and take a swim? I don’t want to be sticky all day. Ants.”

“Sure.”

She led the way now, more confident in her path about the island and he followed, although feeling as if he was dragging his heart behind him.

He remembered how much it hurt when Brightbill flew away for the winter, but it was a good hurt, because they would see each other again.

And he remembered how much it hurt when Roz left the island. That one hurt in a different way because he knew he may never see her again, but he had good memories, and he knew that he had friends and a good life because of what she did for them all.

But this was a hurt he didn’t recognize. It was like the hurt he used to feel when nobody wanted him around, the hurt he learned to ignore, the hurt he used in order to become clever and figure out the very best ways to get exactly what he wanted. Similar, but not the same.

Because that pain was borne out of the rejection of everyone. Like sleeping on a bed of pinecones.

This ache could not be ignored or pushed away.

Being rejected by one special someone in particular, he was learning, was much worse, like sleeping on one particularly spiky pinecone.

With one, big jagged spike.

Pressing right against his heart.

“Look! Your favorite!” Farrah came trotting out of the water to him where he sat on shore, feebly scrubbing his paws in a tidepool, and laid a huge clam at his feet, its bulk almost too big for her smaller jaw. He nodded, but kept scrubbing. A crab scuttled past as a larger wave lazily slapped the rocks behind her, the water dull under a hazy, late spring sky. “Fink?”

The thought just fell out of his mouth. “You really never thought about finding a…a mate?”

Farrah blinked, eyes wide again. This time he could tell it wasn’t with the instinct to flee, but he could hear her heart racing all the same. “I… no. Where I’m from, nobody would take me.”

He wanted to run away, scared of what he was feeling, scared of what he might say, what she might say, what might happen to their friendship, but couldn’t stop himself. “But, you’re not there anymore. You’re here. And things are different here. Everyone’s a little different here and…and…just because you… your…” He couldn’t keep his tail from twitching, his claws making little arpeggios in the sand, his tongue babbling away without him, “I like your fur. It’s not practical but it’s beautiful, it catches the sun. It’s a part of you and I like you so you don’t have to worry about being different or the runt of the litter here. I think it’s a miracle you’ve made it, it means you’ve had to be strong and smart and you’re–”

“My fur?” A tilt of Farrah’s head showed initial confusion. “What’s wrong with my fur?” And then just the hint of her ears leaning back, a paw pushing at the sand as if bracing for a fight, her tail curling around herself again. “Who said I was a runt? I’ll have you know I was the second biggest kit of my litter.”

Now it was Fink’s turn to blink in surprise. “But.. no one said, it’s just… you are on the small side so I just thought you might–”

“Wait. Fink,” she calmed then, a realization breaking over her, her spine straightening, ears perking up. It was one of the rare moments they’d had together where he was able to look her in the eye and she didn’t back down, where suddenly she was allowing him in and he felt suddenly hopeful. Did she just hear what he said? Was she just realizing how he felt? Did she like him too? He swallowed hard, anticipating what she would say next.

It was much different than what he expected.

“Have you…never met a winter fox?”

The words pushed through him, trying to find a place to settle into meaning. “Winter? Fox?”

“Yeah. A snowy fox. Like me.” When he could only stare blankly, she smiled sadly. “Oh, Fink. There are different kinds of foxes where I’m from! I’m a winter fox. We’re all white like this and smaller than the forest foxes. We don’t usually mix with the forest foxes because…” here she looked down at her little white paws making a delicate triangle in the sand, “forrest foxes hunt winter foxes. They’re brutal predators. They..they eat us.”

Whaaaaaat??? “WOWWWUH,” Fink breathed, aghast at this breaking news, happy for her to have escaped that peril. “They sound like huge jerks. You’re better off here without ‘em.”

She lifted her head then and a light huff fell out of her, it was nervous and hesitant, and thinking she was laughing, he was momentarily proud of lightening her mood. Until she said, “Fink…you’re a forest fox.”

There would be few more profound moments in Fink’s life than standing on a shifting shore, learning that he had yet another fate in the world, an alternate place where he could have lived a completely different life, one that could be seen by someone other than himself.

He sat in shock and looked at her. She was so small, so vulnerable. He himself was half again her size. She was fast, but he was faster and could easily outrun her and catch her if he wanted to. She would often bring him shellfish to open for her and then watch in something like awe as he crushed it easily in his jaws.

In hindsight, maybe it wasn’t awe. Perhaps it was horror.

He was starting to understand that his heart could break twice in one lifetime. Maybe twice in one day.

He needed time to stand still for a minute so he could gather his thoughts, fix this somehow, assure her that he wasn’t like the foxes she’d known, make her see, he wasn’t like the forest foxes that she’d known, he would never, if only the waves would stop crashing and the geese would stop honking–

Honking! The geese! The geese were returning! Brightbill!

Fink was up and turning on the spot, watching the incoming flock, but also agitated by the interruption, unable to stop himself. “Farrah, I… can you… can you hold that thought? I’m sorry, I just–” And without waiting for her, he ran.

He couldn’t remember being faster, needing to run faster, faster, his blood rushing in his ears. The flock would land just down the shore near by and he found a spot close enough to the treeline so as not to spook the ones that didn’t know him, but still out on shore enough to be seen. And then he danced.

He couldn’t help himself. Bounding in a circle, paws tap tapping the wet sand, he yelped like a pup in with its tail caught, and sure enough, an orange-tufted bird broke from the group and came straight for him, dive-bombing him out of the sky, goose and fox colliding in a poof of feathers and fur and rolling and laughter as Brightbill made a triumphant return to the island.

“Hey, buddy! You came back!”

The goose laughed. “It’s spring. Where else would I go?”

“Oh, I don’t know. You could fly anywhere. I’m sure there are tons of islands better than this one.”

“Yeah, but none of them have a Fink.”

Fink grinned, the familiar fondness for his friend doing some soothing work on his aching heart. “How was the trip?”

“Long. Who’s that?” Brightbill tipped his beak to the treeline, and Fink followed his gaze to the flash of white ducking behind a tree.

“Oh. She’s new. Farrah! Hey!” he called to her and her little face appeared around the trunk. “Brightbill’s home! Come meet the kid!” Trotting toward them, she looked warily side to side at the arriving population on the shore, and he lowered his voice to give the goose advice he couldn’t yet accept himself, “She washed up half-drowned a couple of months ago. Still kinda shy. Don’t take it personally.”

“Oh, that reminds me!” Brightbill turned to the crowd and honked, calling to a large, long-necked and ruffle-feathered gander who was chatting up a gaggle of ladies. The gander immediately turned and closed the distance, winging over to their little family group and settling next to them, much more gently than his mass would have led anyone to suppose. “This is my…ah… my nesting partner, Crusher.”

“Fink, yes?” Crusher honked, husky and low. “Charmed.”

“He’s joining us from another flock this year.”

Crusher chuckled and ribbed Brighbill. “Might stay forever at this rate.”

The smaller goose couldn’t help but blush. “You mind if he stays in the hut with me?”

Fink smiled, a rush of happiness for his little fledgling–all grown up–tempered only by the awkwardness every parent feels when they bring their sweetheart to visit. “Absolutely! You can have the best bed in the place.”

“What?” Brightbill flinched. “Your bed? Are you sure you’re Fink?”

Fink shrugged and leveled his shoulders, a smug smile tugging at his mouth. “What can I say? I’m a great guy. Fantastically generous. Full of surprises.”

“That last part’s true for sure.” Brightbill turned to Farrah. “I assume you’re responsible for this show-off’s drastic change in behavior?”

“Hey!” Fink protested, but Farrah laughed her wondrous, loud laugh and introductions and welcomes were made. He watched her as she warmed to his adopted family and before long they were trotting back to the hut, many of their friends there to meet them, having heard the flock arriving from the south.

The rest of the day had a general family reunion atmosphere. Thorn bumbled off into the trees and came back with an entire wild raspberry bush he’d yanked out of the ground, heavy with a spring crop. The raccoons brought up snails from the woods and clams from the beach. Pinktail brought in this season’s club of little rascals who all got a fast and low ride on Crusher’s back over the surrounding treetops. Before long, the fireflies were coming out, lighting up the grasses in the clearing around the hut and Thorn had started a warm fire inside.

It was there that Fink was listening intently to Crusher’s tale of home, the shoreline where he grew up. Since meeting Farrah, Fink had become increasingly interested in learning how different and yet the same so many other places were. It was like he learned something new about the world every day.

Like the fact that there were foxes in the world that were even bigger jerks than he was.

Or than he used to be.

He scanned the hut–quieter now as many of the young animals were nodding off and cuddling with their mamas who in turn were engaged in low, pleasant conversation by the light of the fire. At first he thought Farrah might have left, the crowd too much for her, but then he caught the moonlight glow of her fur through the doorway out in the clearing, Brightbill at her side. They were deep in conversation–Brightbill doing most of the talking and Farrah watching him intently–and Fink felt a little contented spark of loving happiness as he watched them bond.

After a while, Brightbill waddled into the hut toward Fink’s precious, beloved, grassy nest, drowsy and sighing. “It’s been a day. Did you really mean it? Can we bed down here?”

Fink sighed, pulling back the sass he was so accustomed to leaning on, just this once. “Yeah, kid. I mean it. You two have had a long journey. Take a load off. I’m just glad you’re home. You want me to shoo everyone out of here so you can sleep?”

“Nah,” the small goose shook his head, his eye wandering across the line of pictures Roz had created of him not so very long ago. “We’re used to sleeping in a crowd. And it’s nice to hear the voice of friends.”

Once Brightbill and Crusher were comfortable–heads tucked under wings, Crusher’s free wing almost completely covering the smaller goose–Fink wandered out into the clearing where Farrah sat under the stars. She was staring up at the moon as she often did on nights like this, most likely thinking about her family and how no matter the distance between them, they still had the same night sky.

“Mind if I sit?”

She didn’t flinch, didn’t turn to watch his every move, just kept watching the twinkling of the stars. “Not at all. It’s a nice night. Quiet. Calm.”

Mindful of what he now knew of her past, he kept his distance, but still where she could see him and feel safe just out of reach. Fink looked up to the big, silvery moon, round-faced and kind. It reminded him of a certain robot he once knew.

“He’s a great kid, clever and kind,” she said after a long silence. “You really raised him right.”

Fink scoffed and winked at the moon. “It wasn’t really me who raised him.”

“That’s not how he sees it. He thinks Roz was great, but she couldn’t have done it without you. You’re just as important to him that way. He told me so many stories.”

Digging at a spot in the ground, he did his best not to look too interested. “Yeah? Anything…good?”

She laughed then, softer than usual, but still winning the prize for his very favorite sound in the world. Standing, she came closer and Fink kept still, trying not to breathe too fast as she sat as his side, shoulder to shoulder. She was warm. She smelled like raspberries and snails and something else…something intoxicating. “Well, good enough.”

“So he convinced you I’m not going to eat you.”

“Something like that.”

Ah. He’d have to remember to thank the kid later.

“I’m sorry about earlier, Fink. I didn’t know you didn’t know about–”

“Why do you think nobody would have you?”

Farrah blinked up at him. “What?”

“You said where you were from, nobody would want you. I can’t imagine the kind of idiots you must have grown up around.”

She smiled then, a little sadly, turning her gaze to her paws. “My eyes. Nobody wants a mate with mismatched eyes. They assume I’m blind or can’t see as well as them, that because of it I wouldn’t be able to survive or I’d pass it down to their kits who'd have trouble surviving. It’s not true, but I don’t stand a chance against another vixen with matching eyes. That's nature. I just kind of accepted it.”

“Are you kidding me?” Fink gasped. “Your eyes? But they’re amazing! They’re one of my favorite things about you. They’re–” and then he faltered as she looked up hopefully at him, those bright eyes–one light and one dark–bewitching and so very distinct. And suddenly, all the fear and snark left him as he felt himself turning to pure, dopey goo. “--they’re…beautiful.”

She snuggled into his shoulder then, finally giving in, her tail coming to rest over his, wrapping herself around him. And he marveled at how fast a broken heart can heal up. As if it had never been hurt at all.

Yeah. He was really gonna have to thank that kid.

“I think I’d like to go curl up in bed,” she said, finally breaking free and turning back toward the hut where the warm orange light spilled over the snoring bulk of their bear friend and the nearby soft pile of sleeping geese. “You coming?”

“Ah, I gave my bed to the kids. I’ll probably just sleep in the grass tonight.”

She smiled, her eyes shining in the moonlight. “No you won’t. Not when there’s plenty of room in mine.”

He thought he wouldn’t be able to sleep for joy. Not with his kid home again. Not with all of his friends so close by. Not with his nose buried in the fur of Farrah’s shoulder or the curve of her slumbering body curled up around his own. Not with his heart beating as broadly as it was.

But he did. He slept. Soundly. And well.

____

SERIES MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

Fink and Farrah, illustration by @grogusmum

#that awoooo inside you #fink the fox #tumblr #general #fluff #oneshot

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pedrostories · 5 months ago

Text

Holiday Hardships

Paring: Marcus Acacius x gn!reader

Words: 1.3k

Rating: G

Summary: The party rages on leaving Marcus no time to grab your final present.

Author: Mod Mouse

Notes: I'm cutting it close with getting my entry in for the What Could Go Wrong writing challenge hosted by @beefrobeefcal. But here it is! For my prompt I got Marcus Acacius needs a last minute gift and can't leave the house. I hope you enjoy!

‘Why did I think this was a good idea?’ Marcus thought to himself as another round of cheers exploded from the living room. All he wanted tonight was to have a quiet New Years Eve with some expensive wine and you by his side. There was a new series he wanted to binge watch tonight with you since he saw the trailer for it, and he hoped to do just that. But just like Jack Frost, someone nipped away his fantasy. Lucius pulled the “You Owe Me” card for him, saving Marcus from a faculty party last year where he played Santa instead of Marcus. ‘Tis the fucking season.

Many guests gathered at his house for a modern Saturnalia New Years Eve party though “Saturnalia” was stretching it as a theme. Mostly it was an excuse for excess drinking and partying all through the night. Strangers in bedsheet togas filled the space as they danced and drank cheap beer. It was a night to remember despite they would all have hazy memories in the morning. He was lucky he lived away from everyone because he knew the neighbors would complain about the bass filled music shaking his walls.

Everyone from the College of Ancient Studies had gathered here tonight for the wild evening. Lucius was bound and determined to win a round of beer pong since he had a historical losing streak. But he always challenged the champion of “Gladiators,” a self nominated name for the group of local rugby players, hence his tendency for losing. Geta and Caracalla were already upstairs ruining the new bedsheets with whatever activities they decided to try out on Marcus’ time. The two grad students had charmed half the TAs and tended to research their theses with hands-on learning.

Marcus sighed and rubbed his eyes pausing in his refilling the snack table. A mess of chip crumbs and puddles of beer seeping into the untouched fruit cake coated the cheap table cloths giving the area a layer of stickiness. The premade gingerbread was already missing a wall and leaned dangerously to the left, making the icing drip onto the table. It reminded him of your yearly tradition to make cookies so you two would have a treat as you opened presents.

His eyes widened at the realization. The craziness of the party had taken so much time away from holiday preparation that he completely forgot to get you the last present. Marcus cursed but the music overpowered his frustration. ‘Okay okay no time to panic,” Marcus thought to himself. There was no time to find an open store, and he couldn’t leave his house at risk of it burning to the ground from the party.

‘Think Marcus!’ He thought as he paced the kitchen floor. What could he possibly do? Anything he thought of felt shallow and unworthy of you. He sighed and leaned his hands against the sink, a buzz of ideas filling his head as he tried to think, the loud music not helping him brainstorm. None of them seemed possible. Marcus scratched his beard in thought as he peered out the kitchen window. A fresh blanket of snow covered the backyard giving the county home an added holiday glow.

Glow? Marcus furrowed his brow remembering a recent purchase. Quickly he rummaged through piles of plastic bags from his last errands run, and he smiled when his hand brushed against the box. Marcus glanced behind his shoulder. No one at the party would notice his short absences. He had a plan brewing, as he made a mental list of what materials he needed. Marcus weaved around the party dodging guests as his arms filled with required objects. He was going to make this perfect for you.

All you wanted was a drink. It was the only thing getting through the required family gathering you were forced to attend. You were hard set on leaving at 9 giving you plenty of time to party with the boys. When Marcus told you of the change of plans, you were a little sad but you knew it would still be fun. You liked hanging out with all the other professors and grad students letting loose one last time before the spring semester started.

There was a long line of cars parked outside your house and you were suddenly worried that you would have to walk a mile just to get inside. But as you drifted towards the driveway you smiled as you saw your normal spot roped off with red rope strung from traffic cones. A handmade signed read “VIP” was attached to a wooden stack in the ground and you couldn’t help but chuckle.

You quickly parked and gathered your bag, ready to join the festivities. As your shoes crunched under the freshly fallen stone as you walked up to your front door, something caught your attention. Another handmade sign hung from the wooden porch fence, this time reading “Winter Wonderland this way.” This confused you since you knew this wasn’t the theme of the party.

Curiously you followed the signs instructions lending you around to the side of your shared house. When you peaked around the corner, you were greeted with decorations galore. Green garland decorated the wooden fence in undulating waves. Small baubles hung from the fence posts in a multitude of colors. With a small click you opened the gate with a creak and gasped as you saw the scene in front of you.

A warm glow illuminated from inside the enclosed space as Marcus stood in the middle of the backyard. Gentle holiday music drifted from the speaker giving the area a festive mood. It truly was a Winter Wonderland in your backyard. You swore this wasn’t like this when you were here, adding to your curiosity. At the sound Marcus turned, his smile warming your heart.

“Marc this is amazing,” You smiled as you slowly twirled, taking in the festive sight. The warm glow emanated from the small fairy lights that were strung on the hanging planters woven in the branches of the shrubs and trees. Quickly you hugged your fiance and Marcus smiled, lifted the glasses of wine above your head to keep it from spilling.

He quickly kissed your head taking in the familiar scent of your perfume. “I know tonight didn’t quite go as planned, but I thought a little us time would do us some good.”

You lifted your head from his chest finally noticing the alcohol in his hands, and you smiled. “You know me so well.”

Marcus gently handed you the flute and you happily took a sip. The bubbles tickled your nose, but you always loved the taste of champagne. It reminded you of how you met Marcus. A holiday party where you two were the new professors and you discovered you shared the same passion for Homer’s epics. And the rest is history.

With a tip of his glass he said, “Here’s to us. May the new year be full of our love and happiness.”

You repeated the action, clinking the glasses together, a wide smile brightening up your face. “To us.”

Marcus sipped on his champagne and kissed your cheek just as the last song ended. After a few seconds of silence, Auld Lang Syne wafted through the white backyard. Marcus chuckled. “How very appropriate. Here” He carefully takes your flute from you, setting both on the glass patio table. With a low bow he asked, “May I have this dance?”

You laughed covering your mouth with your hand. “Always the gentleman. Yes I will have this dance.” You replied, setting your bag on the concrete steps.

Marcus stood back up this time, his own smile gracing his lips. He held out a gloved hand to you and you graciously accepted. With a gentleness he reserved only for you, he pulled you into his chest, the warmth filling you with a sense of security. The party raged on inside, but the only thing you could focus on was Marcus’ heartbeat. The boys could wait.

Credit to @strangergraphics and @inklore

All Works Taglist:

@for-a-longlongtime @romanarose

Pedro Characters Taglist:

@littlemisspascal @burntheedges

@carusolikey @thebeldroramscal

@morallyinept @lady-bess

@pedrostories @rivnedell

@pascalsanctuary @readingiskeepingmegoing

@jessthebaker @pedrit0-pascalit0

#holiday hardships #marcus acacius #general #500~2k #tumblr #oneshot

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pedrostories · 5 months ago

Text

adversary

a/n: Merry Christmas and happy holidays! just jumping on to post some Joel, hopefully you enjoy! 💕 not beta’d and barely proofread, but thank you to @just-here-for-the-moment for taking a look- this ones for you!

Warnings; 18+ no minors, bit of an age gap, piv sex, dirty talk, Joel laying down the law and making sure you’re not in your head, allusions to past trauma, toxic relationship with Joel, but both parties like it- let me know if I missed any!

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

word count: 1k

reblogs are appreciated

Masterlist

Surviving in the world, as it stood, meant keeping your face unreadable, and your mouth shut.

When Tommy had arrived in Jackson, he’d been easy to accept. He’d been humble and grateful, hardworking and eager to cement his place. Quiet. Peaceful.

Joel was a different beast. He tested your limits, broke the façade that had been crafted with care and time and trauma. The mask you’d created for safety, for the good of the community, had come terrifyingly close to cracking under the strength of his gaze.

Maria had been wary when he’d shown up, and who could blame her judging by the things Tommy had whispered to her in their dark hours, but then again she’d been wary of you too.

She still was. Sort of.

Mostly it was a distant respect, what she felt for you, what you imagined everyone in Jackson must feel for you, If how they treated you was anything to go by. You were content with this though. A peaceful, quiet life was more than anything you could have hoped for. When people averted their eyes from you, when they kept their conversations short and to the point, when they left you alone, you took it as a sign, took it as good fortune. In this world, you were lucky to have this.

Your solitude was the first thing Joel threatened. It was the first thing he took, and it wasn’t the last. He also took the comforting silence of an empty, safe, house.

He took your hard-won peace.

“Open the door.” His voice slipped through the cracks in the door like smoke, raising your heartbeat, as well as your blood pressure.

“I thought we agreed we wouldn’t do this again.” You opened the door, just a crack.

“Go away, Joel.”

“We never agreed on anythin’, don’t play dumb with me, woman, I saw you lookin’ at me this mornin’ just like I was lookin’ at you.” The toe of his boot slides just inside, stopping you from slamming the door in his face.

“I don’t want you right now.” You crossed your arms, yet didn’t move. This was the game you always played, and he was wise to it now, so he laughed.

“Yes you do, I can practically taste it.” It’s pitch black outside the house except for the glint in his eyes, he’s obviously in a good mood, which only sours yours further. “Let me in baby, I’m in a givin’ mood, let me be sweet to you.” His hand reaches through the crack in the door and strokes, petal-soft, at the skin of your arm. Instantly your body betrays you, blooms for him while outwardly, you seethe.

“Come on darlin’,” His voice is warm honey now, “let me in so I can do all those things I know you like.” His towering frame presses closer, slipping through the widening crack in the door, and you let him.

A filthy moan slips past your mouth, and into his ego.

“Such a good girl, takin’ this cock just how I need you to take it.” He swirls his hips, pressing deep enough to pull another moan despite the useless vow of silence you’d promised to no one except maybe your own pride.

“Shut up-“ you pant with an embarrassing lack of any real bite, inwardly cursing him for how good it feels, while physically clutching at him harder. He laughs, slowing his movements down.

“You like it when I talk though, I can feel how fuckin’ wet you are right now, drippin’ all over—“ you pull him closer, kissing him in the foolish attempt to disguise the noises you couldn’t seem to stop making, as well as stop him from pouring more gasoline onto the fire he lit in your veins.

He got the hint, blessedly. He was in a giving mood, being real sweet despite how disrespectfully he was fucking you.

His skin slips against yours, sweatslicked and warm as he crushes you to the mattress with every heavy stroke, his cock is so hard you vaguely wonder if he’d been imagining this. That thought turned you on, to know that despite the usual aversion, the perpetual scowl on his face that he’d been craving you for god knows how long - it made him seek you out. Whether or not you wanted to be the object of his desire, you still didn’t quite know.

Thoughts spiraled though and soon the moans turned into frustrated sighs. The inner conflict he embodied for you chased away the pleasure, replaced it with inadequacy, with that ever-present melancholy and anxiety that was the new normal in this world. You felt him stop, felt him pull away, pull out of you with a grunt and the sour feeling swells. He can sense you’re not in it anymore, resigned to have to shower and chase the orgasm once he’s gone you blindly reach for the blanket—

“Turn over, hands and knees.”

“What? I thought-“

“Do what I say. Turn over.” His tone is serious and unquestionable, and it lights you up from the inside, even though you’d never admit it to him.

Once you get into position his hands are heavier, rougher. A heavy crack lands on your ass and you gasp, shocked, distracted. He enters you in once brutal thrust, giving you no time to get accustomed before he’s pulling you up, your back meeting his chest.

“There it is, gotta get you out of that pretty little head, fuck you dumb.” He pants the words in your ear, his fingers slipping between your legs to pinch your clit. “That’s it baby, feel that?” His words are clipped, one hand working between your legs while the other holds your breast possessively, keeping you pressed tight.

All thoughts are knocked out of your head by the heavy stroke of his cock, mindless, euphoric, rhythmic and divine. Tighter and tighter the coil winds, a full body clench only inches away from the brainless buzz of pleasure and when his teeth sink into the curve of your shoulder it snaps.

He grunts as your cunt squeezes him tight, clenching around his cock, milking him dry as he grinds himself deeper, as deep as he can.

He says nothing as he dresses, nothing still as he walks down the stairs and out of your house. He never does, and as the blood cools and the exhaustion shoos away your consciousness, you vaguely wonder if you’d ever need him to.

Tag list: @frannyzooey @greeneyedblondie44 @lola4pedro @221bshrlocked @artsymaddie @supernaturalgirl20 @sleep-tight1 @sherala007 @cannedsoupsucks @thirstworldproblemss @ilikechocolatemilkh @freeshavocadoooo @hrk-fic-recs @maxwell--lord @the-feckless-wonder @kirsteng42 @thisshipwillsail316 @feministfanboi @stevie75 @readsalot73 @pedrostories @tobealostwanderer @mandocrasis @elegantduckturtle @diogodxlot @alczysz17 @evyiione @absurdthirst @beskarboobs @andruxx @littlemissoblivious @1800-fight-me @maievdenoir @gracie7209 @omlwhatamidoinghere @magikfanatic @frankiecatfish @pedritoispunk @studythoreauly @missswriter @pintsizemama @mswarriorbabe80 @a-trial-run-on-paper @la-le-lu @chickadee-djarin @dobbyjen @rosiefridayrogersunday @ajeff855 @johnsrevelation @the-witty-pen-name

#adversary #joel miller #explicit #smut #tumblr #oneshot #500~2k

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pedrostories · 5 months ago

Text

Thawed

Dieter Bravo x Fat!F!Reader ft. Seth Rogan

Rating: Mature || Word Count: 3k+ || Beta: @jennaispunk || AO3

Dieter's girlfriend (you babe!!) is on her first overseas press tour for her latest movie. Dieter is in charge of thawing the turkey for Christmas dinner at home. Seth Rogan shows up.

Warnings/Tags: allusions to smut, weed/pot, drug use, mentions of fatphobia and misogyny, Dieter is a good boy, Reader is Mommyk dirty talk || Only descriptors of Reader: She is Mommy. She is the Dom in the relationship. She is fat. She wears makeup and has enough boobs to have cleavage. || Dividers: @saradika-graphics || Tagging to add to the databases: @littlemisspascal @pascalsanctuary @pedrostories

A/N: This was written for @beefrobeefcal Festive Failure 2024 Challenge! I got "Dieter Bravo needs to find a creative way to thaw a turkey real quick." And while this isn't exactly that (we all know how the creative juices flow weirdly) it's close enough! (I hope!). Happy Holidays everyone! 🎄🎅

“Ok Dee, listen carefully.” You finish lining your eyes and then look down at your phone where you are FaceTiming your boyfriend. He had a goofy smile on his face, and his bloodshot eyes were focused low on his screen where your cleavage was. “Dee?” Rolling your eyes you pick your phone up, filling the screen with just your head. “Dieter!”

He shakes his head and blinks slowly a few times, clearing his head and focusing on your face - finally - with a dreamy smile on his face.

“You look beautiful, baby.”

Your face heats up and you can't help but smile back. “Thank you Dee, but listen I have something important you need to do.”

He nods once and sits up straighter on the couch, putting his serious face on. “Important. Got it. What do you need?”

“I need you to take the turkey out of the freezer, and put it in the fridge on the bottom shelf.” You speak slowly, carefully enunciating your words. “Tonight, before you go to bed.”

“Turkey out of freezer, put in fridge.”

“Tonight Dee.” You set the phone back down and grab your lipstick. “We're doing the big Christmas dinner on the 20th and I will be home that morning, the turkey needs to be mostly thawed by then so it has to go in the fridge tonight.”

“Got it,” the words roll lazily out of his mouth as his eyes drift back down.

“Dee, how high are you?” You cap your lipstick and set it down, then rest your chin in your hands and watch his face.

“Seth came over today with those vases you bought, we hung out a bit.”

“Mmm, ok so very.”

“He also brought some brownies that I'm saving for when you get home.”

You smile and lean forward. “Yeah?”

“Of course, baby.” His face fills with his lopsided sleepy smile. “How's the press tour?”

You blow a raspberry and roll your eyes.

“That bad, huh?

“Oh you know, just the normal fatphobia and misogyny, the constant questions about you as if this was your movie but you just couldn't make it to the interview. Not that that's your fault. I'm just… I wanna come home.” You loved the movie you had made, and the character, and normally you were okay with the press, but this time around you worked with some god-awful co-stars who were driving the interviews in places you didn’t want them to go and you were tired of it.

“I know baby, I'm sorry. Is there anything I can do?”

“Just take the turkey out of the freezer and put it in the fridge.”

“Turkey in the fridge, I can do that.”

“You're such a good boy for me Dee,” you say huskily.

He grins. “Yeah? Wanna reward your good boy?” He adjusts on the couch and you know he's cupping himself over his loose flowy pants.

A sharp knock on the door jerks your attention from the screen. “Well shit, Mommy will have to reward you later Dee-”

Dieter whines. “Please, baby he needs-”

“Love you, I'll text you later before I go to bed!” You blow him a kiss and hang up—time to get this bullshit over with.

Twenty minutes later, after bringing up some home videos and having a quick jerk session, Dieter slowly stumbles to the kitchen, the need for munchies kicking in.

He stops in the middle of his kitchen, staring at the fridge. “I was supposed to do something…” he murmurs, then shrugs and pulls open the freezer. Where was the… he scratches at his beard. Ah! Reaching around a big, round frozen thing, he pulls out his pint of Half-Baked and giggles. Def more than half-baked, he thinks to himself. Popping the lid off, he grabs a spoon from the drawer and tries to grab a bite. Too frozen. He frowns, but… his eyebrows shoot up as he looks across the kitchen at the microwave. But I don’t want it to melt… he eyes the ice cream and the spoon in his hand, head tilting from side to side.

He walks toward the microwave, pops it open, and places the spoon in the middle. “How long… I don’t want it hot, just warm…” He sets it for fifteen seconds and figures he can do more if he needs to. The microwave starts and immediately starts sparking. “Whoa! What the fuck?!” Dieter jumps back, the pint falling from his hand as he raises his hands to shield himself, the microwave shuts off, the spoon still sparking inside “Evil!” He points to the microwave, grabs the ice cream from the floor, and gets another spoon, mumbling to himself about the evils of electromagnetic radiation as he trudges upstairs.

The next few days were hellish, just interview after interview, travel, and all the hotels surrounded by fans which normally wouldn't bother you, you loved them, but you were way past the point of being overstimulated.

You soothe the worry line between your brows while looking down at your phone. You had texted him the other day, right before you went to bed, knowing he'd get it when he was sober, reminding him to take the turkey out; even if he didn’t take it out till morning the next day or that afternoon, you could microwave it to finish thawing it.

You've also called a few times since, sent photos, and… nothing. It wasn't unusual, sometimes Dee would get paranoid about radio waves, or lose his phone, or break it and forget to get a replacement, or he could have lost time in his art studio. It could be nothing.

But you shoot off a quick text to Seth anyway.

You: Hey, I'm sorry to bother you, but when's the last time you talked with Dee?

After a few minutes of silence--which makes sense considering what time it is back in Hollywood--you put the phone down and start packing for your flight home.

You’re surprised to see a text back as you grab the phone before heading out to the airport.

SR: uh, the other day when I dropped off your vases and some brownies, everything cool?

You: just haven't heard from him in a couple of days and a little worried. Could you check in on him for me?

SR: 👍

You send a quick thanks, grab your suitcase handle, and walk out the door trying not to think bad thoughts.

“Dee?” Dieter groans and rolls over. “Well, at least you're alive, get up man.” Someone slaps at his feet.

“Stop it,” he grumbles, lazily kicking his feet.

“Dude, come on, it's almost two pm and your girl hasn't heard from you for days, she's worried about you.”

“I jus’ talked to her last night, fuck off.”

“Really dude? Because she texted me this morning saying she hasn't heard from you in a couple of days.”

Dieter bolts upright. “What day is it?”

“The nineteenth.”

Heart pounding he flounders around in the bed for his cell phone muttering. “No, no, no, no, no.”

Seth sighs. “I'll get the coffee brewing.”

“What the shit was in that pot you gave me!” Dieter yells, still frantically looking for his cell. “You know I’ve been clean off the hard stuff!”

“It was just pot dude!” Seth shouts back from the doorway.

“Pot that made me sleep for three days?!” Flashes of him getting up to take a leak, jerk off, and smoke more cross his vision as he stands. “Fuck! I smoked it all!” He runs his hands hurriedly through his hair. “She's probably so worried, haven't fucking answered her in days and she's on her first overseas press tour, and she's anxious and and and-”

“Hey.” Seth grabs him, stopping him from pacing. “Relax, I'm sure she'll understand.”

“I told her I'd be better,” he says softly, jamming his palms into his eyes.

“An’ you are better dude, you dropped the hard stuff, it was just really good pot. Now come on, I’ll put a pot on and call your cell. We’ll find it and you can call her.”

It would be an almost twelve-hour flight back to L.A., and you and your sleeping pill were well prepared. You weren’t really prepared to go home at nearly three am and try to catch a little nap before waking up and having to cook a full Christmas dinner, but you did what you had to do. You and Dieter had given the chef the rest of the month off, you were adults, and you could cook for yourselves.

After getting your seatbelt extender and settling in, a glass of wine in hand, you sit, staring at your phone. Seth hasn’t gotten back to you, and neither has Dieter. You really didn’t want to land in L.A. and be swarmed with paps asking about how you felt about what happened with Dee - if anything has happened with him. You didn’t want to open up TMZ and find out the love of your life had relapsed and was found dead in a pool of vomit.

Rehab and recovery had been hard on him, on both of you, but he was doing so much better now, and you were so proud of him; you made sure to tell him often.

You lean your head back and close your eyes, sighing. There were still another fifteen minutes or so of loading passengers, and you were thankful you weren't too recognizable yet that you had to deal with everyone staring as they passed you, just a person here or there. You just keep your sunglasses on and try not to make eye contact with anyone.

Your flight took off at ten pm and would be in L.A. a little over eleven hours later at almost ten am for you, but really two am in L.A. You figured you’d stay up till about two or three am, sleep for about five or six hours, then wake up and stay awake until you got back home at three or four am and hopefully crawl into bed next to Dieter for another few hours before you had to get up and finish thawing the bird.

You start to take a sip of your wine when your phone vibrates on the tray. Jerking in your seat, you look down and see Dee’s face looking up at you. You put the glass down and hurriedly answer.

“Dieter??” You turn away from the aisle, from the prying eyes of the other passengers and you speak softly. “Dee, baby is that you?”

“Yeah, It’s me, baby listen-” His voice cracks on the first word and you lean forward.

“Are you okay Dee?”

“Of course I am baby, I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry, that pot fucked me up and I just, I’m sorry. I should have been here for you.” Tears well in your eyes.

“Dieter, it’s okay, you’re safe, that's all I care about.” Wiping your nose on your sleeve you smile wetly into the phone. “Did you smoke it all? I sure could use some after this tour.”

“I'm sure Seth can hook us up with more, and I think the brownies are still in the fridge, I haven't checked yet, I might have eaten them all. Are you in the air yet?”

“Not yet, but soon, boarding is almost done, then a fun eleven-hour flight, then getting out of LAX, and down the 405…” You roll your eyes and sigh. “So I'll probably be home around three or four in the morning.”

“I'll be waiting for you,” he says wistfully. “We missed you.”

You giggle and hunch over the phone more. “And Mommy missed her boys too, but you better be asleep when I get home.”

“I just slept for three days Mommy,” he whines. “And I wanna be awake when you get home, we want to welcome you home properly.”

“Maybe mommy wants to wake you up in her own special way, baby,” you purr, mouth salivating at the thought. “Why don't you be a good boy and look at all the pictures and videos mommy sent you while you were a naughty boy and slept the weekend away,” you pause, lick your lips, and squeeze your thighs together. “I want you to look at them, and watch them, and you send me a video of you watching, but…”

“But what? Mommy please,” Dee whines and you smile.

“No finishing.” You can hear the air whoosh out of him, the groan he lets out. “I know, but you're a good boy, you've edged yourself longer before. You can last the next twelve hours baby. For Mommy?”

“Yes Mommy, I can do that for you, whatever you want.”

You hear a ding from above. “Alright baby, I gotta go, I'll text you when I land so you can get in bed, I love you.”

“Love you too, fly safe baby.” You both make disgustingly cute kissy noises at each other before you hang up and put your phone on airplane mode, then you knock back the rest of your wine.

“So how's mommy?” Seth tries to hold his laughter in.

“Oh fuck off man,” Dieter throws a couch pillow at him and Seth catches it while letting out his trademark laugh.

“Why's there a spoon in your microwave?”

“Ice cream was hard, microwave sparked, fucking electromagnetic waves man,” Dieter says absentmindedly as he scrolls back through all the texts, videos, and photos she sent over the last three days.

“I mean kinda. The metal reflects the waves and it fries your microwave man. Mommy's not gonna be happy about that.”

“Dude, I said--FUCK!” Dieter stands the phone clattering to the floor as Dieter runs to the kitchen. “The fucking turkey!” He stares into the freezer, at the giant, still-frozen bird. “Oh fuck! She's gonna kill me!”

“Is that the bird we're supposed to eat tomorrow?”

“Yeah…”

“Bummer man.”

“No!” Dieter spins, pointing a finger at Seth. “You and your pot made me forget about it, and now you’re going to help me defrost this bitch in the next eleven hours.”

“Or, hear me out,” Seth says, holding his hands up. “I go to the fucking grocery store and get you another one that's already thawed?”

“You can't!” Dieter throws his hands up in the air. “This is a special one from a farm! It is free-range, humanely raised, and grain-fed with no antibiotics and no growth hormones! We need to thaw this one so we can cook and eat it tomorrow.” He paces in front of the open freezer and gestures to Seth. “Get on your phone and figure it out, I gotta go upstairs for a minute.”

“God I'm gonna marry that woman,” Dieter sighs, body sweaty, his cock rock hard, balls aching needing release. He sends off the video he just took, and sits, trying to think of anything but his girlfriend's hot, plush, voluptuous body. “Fuck!” he groans as an image of her pops into his head. “Anything else, think of anything else.”

Think of Seth naked, no wait he's hot too. Zombiefied Cloris Leachman naked, dancing around to ‘Jingle Bell Rock’. Old, winkly bits flopping around, falling apart.

Electromagnetic waves zapping him.

Being chased by giant mutated turkeys.

After a few more minutes of thinking unpleasant thoughts, his erection finally subsides. Dieter takes a long deep breath, and goes to one of his many toy drawers, pulling out his favorite chastity cage. It would help keep him erection free until it was bedtime when he would take it off and get into bed, ready for her to get home. He knew he wouldn’t sleep, but he could pretend, it wouldn’t be the first time and she wouldn’t mind.

He pulls his pants back up and sighs, grabbing his phone he heads back downstairs to see what Seth has come up with.

Seth sits at the island countertop, phone in front of him, his chin in his hands. “You good bro?” He looks up as Dieter comes into the room.

“Yeah, so what does it say?”

“Well, since your microwave is out of commission and you have to cook it immediately after microwaving it, you’re gonna be super busy tonight.”

Dieter grunts as he sits next to Seth. “Busy doing what?”

Seth laughs. “Dude, you have to soak it in the sink, but you have to change the water like every half hour, it’s gonna take you almost 8 hours to thaw that big ol’ bird.”

“Uggggggh,” Dieter draws out the word and thunks his head down. “Listen, we got heated blankets, we got blow dryers, can go buy some room heaters-”

“And blow the fuses and possibly start fires; and again, if you heat it to thaw it, you have to cook it immediately. Bacteria man. You have to keep it cool, under like, forty degrees while you thaw it.” Seth places a thermometer in front of him. “Your sink is big enough, you got ice, get to thawing baby boy.” Seth claps him on the back.

Dieter groans again. “Please don’t mention this to her.”

“What?” Seth smiles. “Your nicknames for each other or the turkey?”

“Both!”

“I can’t promise anything about the nicknames, but I won’t tell her about the turkey.” He holds his hands up. “That’s all you’re getting from me, man.”

That’s the best he could hope for, he just hoped he wouldn’t be punished. “Fine. So, cold bath, change the water every fucking thirty minutes.”

“Make sure it stays under forty degrees.” Seth looks at his watch and tilts his head. “It’s three now, start at three thirty and go until ten thirty, then you can toss it in the fridge and she’ll be none the wiser.”

“You’re sure?”

Seth shrugs as he heads towards the door. “It’s what the internet says, man. Good luck!”

You snuggle against Dieter's side and kiss one of the many marks you made on his neck before you bury your face in that little spot between neck and shoulder that you fit in so nicely.

His arms wrap around you and you inhale his scent; the ever-present faint scent of weed, sweat, and sex. Really good sex.

“God I missed you, baby.” Dieter squeezes you tight against him and kisses the top of your head.

“I missed you too.” You pull the blankets around your naked bodies and sink into him and the bed, your eyes closed. “You put the turkey in the fridge the other night right?”

“Of course baby, as soon as I hung up with you.”

You sleepily kiss him again. “Thank you. Now go sleep,” your words slur as you start to drift off. Your body satiated and your heart full, Dieter's fingertips trace patterns across your back. “I love you.”

Dieter sighs. “Love you too.”

#thawed #dieter bravo #drug use #dom/sub #tumblr #oneshot #2k~5k #mature

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pedrostories · 5 months ago

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𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐋 | Joel Miller x reader

summary | Joel's itch to hunt has became a yearly traditional between you and him.

author's note | i had a very vague outline for this weeks ago that didn't feel solid enough but then i saw some gifs and had to collect myself, a huge hug to @gracieheartspedro for beta'ing this!

content warning | 18+ MDNI, jackson!joel, sex pollen (consenting), hunter/prey OR predator/prey (whichever you prefer), knives, joel intentionally hurts reader (consenting), mentions of scars, waterboarding adjacent (again, consenting), brat!reader, gratuitous smut (unprotected piv, oral, ect), creampies <3, cum feeding, some fluff at the end.

word count — 5k

“S’bout that time, baby.”

Joel isn’t even attempting to be subtle about it.

The itch came around the time the flowers were beginning to bloom and the overgrown foliage continued to make a home on earth, woven and wrapping around the cracks that have settled. It was always calmer too, oddly. Tommy had suggested Joel could take a few shifts hunting in the nearby woods for food—you know, scratch it. But, he didn’t understand the deeper implications and desires that Joel kept hidden away. Though, not from you.

He always had a habit of sneaking up on you in your home, quiet as a mouse you were, but even the slightest creak would give you away and Joel would come swooping in, stealing your heart right out of your chest as it stilled, relaxing as his warm, sweet musk consumed your entire being.

He always sought you out, treated you like prey.

Joel was a natural born hunter, a defender—of his territory, his things.

When you switched jobs halfway through your first year in Jackson, botany to patrol, the idea arises. And that was all it was, at first. Presenting Joel with a set of options as your connection with him grew, seeing the ease of conversation behind his hardened exterior.

He liked that you care, that you listened to him talking about his oddball interest without the return of a retching disgust, tongue peeking out of your mouth as your face scrunches up in aversion. Ellie had done it plenty of times, so instead, you ask questions.

Jackson had domesticated Joel back to his previous state, before the outbreak, with what little he’s told you about, he sounds like he wants to leave that man in the past. You understood him, born within a world of pure rage and hostility, fighting tooth and nail from the day you were born.

You were only a small child when the world fell and you barely remember anything from before outside of what you’ve learned from the elders around Jackson and Joel, who wasn’t nearly as old, but had still managed to live a full life and then some, his time split between both versions of this lifetime.

You had patrol together tomorrow, a full undisturbed weekend away.

He clinks your beer mischievously as his eyes glint with intrigue and a small smile tugs at his lips as he hides it behind the rim of his drink—it wasn’t a reminder, rather an auspicious warning.

–

In any other situation, you would hate this patrol spot.

It was big, too big—why Tommy insisted on keeping it within the route was beyond your understanding, but for Joel, it was perfect.

He’s already digging in your bag for the mauve-hued powder, smelling faintly of berries even with the plastic bag wrapped tightly around it. It was something you had stumbled upon with Ellie during one of your earlier patrols, always following close behind to her wandering, stumbling upon a thick brush outside a forgotten, decaying cabin.

A small plant, completely undisturbed.

Ellie almost consumed the plant out of curiosity, eyes growing wide as you slapped her hand away.

“You’re right—yeah, that’s…not a good idea.” She quickly corrected herself, entranced by the intoxicating smell as you carefully unroot the plant and tuck it away in your pack, hopefully that it would stay intact on the ride back or that Shimmer wouldn’t sniff through your bag before you had the chance to make it back.

“Joel would kill me if I let this kill you.”

“Ah, he’s not so bad.” Ellie excused lazily, “Give him a chance.”

That you did.

You snatch the bag from his hand and tuck it away in your pocket.

“Sign us in at least,” You reprimand him, flicking him in the chest before you direct him with a pointed finger over his shoulder. An old, weathered notebook sitting on the counter of the empty clinic, “sweep first—hunt later.”

You both check your respective sides, dead silent throughout, as most of spring usually was around Jackson. Occasionally a straggler would find a way inside, a bloater or clicker that had wandered too far from the herd, but it was completely quiet.

You had traveled all night, the auburn sky fading to blue as the sun rose in the east, the rays projecting through the large window of the second floor of the hospital, an office that was set up with two beds and a pile of supplies for whoever had patrol that month.

Joel’s stripped his jacket off already, yours following suit as you throw it over.

“You know the drill,” Joel announces, his palm curving around the back of your neck as his other hand reaches for the gun tucked into the holster at your thigh, placing it on the counter, “one knife, that’s it.”

“Same rules apply to you, big guy,” You retorted, reaching around his backside for the gun tucked into his waistband, placing it beside your own gun.

He offers over the hunting knife by the handle, his fingers pressing tight against the sharpened blade, eyebrows raised in anticipation as you look at it for a moment, a split-decision before you shake your head, pushing his hand away.

“C’mon baby, now you’re just makin’ it easy.”

You scoff lightly, leaning down to remove your shoes and socks as Joel chuckles lowly, catching onto your antics as you strip yourself down to the bare minimum clothing you needed without being entirely naked—a skin-tight tank that clung to your curves and a pair of shorts that rolled up your thighs, reducing the risk of your clothes snagging in harder to access crevices.

You reach for the treasured bag of special powder that Joel was so eager to consume.

It was an enhancement—a pollen from a special flower that you still hadn’t identified, crushed down into an herb that you traded under the table in Jackson for a high price. The first time you had introduced it to Joel, he was hesitant. But, giving it an hour or so to set in convinced him otherwise.

He could hear better, feel, sense—it was intimidating, the look in his blood-shot eyes every time he found you, teeth bared as they dug into your skin, rutting against you like he was in heat. Sex was the only thing that quelled the ache that it caused as a side effect, and Joel was insatiable.

It started slowly, the slow thump of your heart quickening as the effects settled within you. Then, the paranoia set in, the heightened state of existence, and slowly the urge of desire would settle in, growing and growing until it was nearly unbearable—eventually willing enough to claw off your own skin in an attempt to ease the ache.

It never got that bad, Joel wouldn’t allow it.

But, something about this batch felt potent.

You felt even more mischievous this time around, your third year of this little tradition and you were determined to make him work for it, drag it out until the final second, as the drug waned as neither of you could take it any longer, wanting to beat him at his own game.

“Like a mouse,” You tease, showcasing the near silent step of your feet against the floor as you lick your pointer and middle finger before dipping them into the bag, the powder sticking to your fingers as you press them to Joel’s tongue, his lips closing around the digits with an intense determination in his eyes, “let’s test out those instincts, old man.”

He mirrors your process, but wraps his free hand around your throat, forcing your chin up and mouth open as his fingers dip into your mouth and press down on your tongue, noticing the way his eyes are already dilated under the effect of the pollen, “I’ll leave a pretty one this time.”

A scar, he means.

Two already existing jagged lines on each side of your pelvic bone as he pressed the blade to your skin in dignification of his victory, soothing the wound with his tongue and lapping up the blood.

You hum, closing your eyes at the sweet taste as it warms your body.

“If you catch me,” You tease, a slight amusement to your tone as you toss your head back, fingers pressing harshly against the sides of your throat.

“Bold,” He compliments, “s’cute—you can’t hide from me, sweetheart. I’ll find you.”

–

He always gives you a head start, it was only fair.

The only downside to the pollen was the overstimulation of sound, paranoid with every creak of the building as the heat expanded the metal, faint footsteps without any idea where they were.

You weren’t a hunter, by any means. But, you knew how to hide.

For Joel, he enjoys the chase.

However, he likes to seek, too.

And he’s quiet, unsuspecting.

The first four hours are spent working your way through the second floor as you hide away in hidden crevices and evaded his approaching figure as he traverses from room to room, knowing he’s wandering around with only the knife you had denied yourself, twirling it in his grip as you whistled, paused for an eerily long time, then whistled again. He's had surveying from side to side, scanning.

Everything was making you jump, even the low hum of the wind outside.

There’s a brief moment as you escape to the first floor that Joel catches sight of your quickly fleeing figure, calling out your name in a voice that doesn’t sound entirely of his own. It was deep and guttural, like a growl. Animalistic and dark, stripped down to his primal instincts.

“C’mon, little mouse,” You can hear the knife pierce into the weakening drywall as you hide between a crevice underneath the stairs, moving to your stomach to crawl underneath and use the advantage of the shadows casted by the sun as he paces around the hall for a moment, “let’s see if you’ll squeal for me.”

His foot kicks through a closed door, his soft whistling continuing as he searched around and came up empty-handed, biding your time under the stairwell for an extended period of time, skin dampy and clammy as the heat crept in, clothes dirtied with dust and stained with sweat.

By the time you feel safe enough to leave, knowing how easy Joel could wait you out, it was already creeping into the evening and you had cursed yourself for being so stubborn and leaving your pack behind—hungry and thirsty, the throbbing ache at your core growing stronger as you squeezed your thighs together and escaped the hiding spot.

You stop, listening intently, the faint sound of footsteps below in the basement.

You knew better than to trap yourself down there with him, knowing how easy of a win that would be for him, hearing the faint tap of the knife as he calls for you.

“I know you’re here. I can smell ya,” You hear faintly, “Betcha she’s drippin’ wet, huh?”

You can picture the sight of him, hand grazing over the denim of his jeans as he pressed his palm against his growing erection for relief, a similar detriment to your own but with two entirely different tasks.

You’ve never tried leaving the building before, but the peak of the pollen was beginning to take hold, your mouth dry and begging, aware of the creek just a few minutes into the forest down the road—you were desperate.

So, you book it.

And as your feet hit the entrance, you hear him.

But, he’s closer now, ascending the stairs to the first floor as his eyes lock on your shadowed figure before you slam the door closed behind you, his voice booming in the distance as the twigs break underneath your feet, wincing at the sting of pain it brings.

“Bad girl,” He taunts, “Breakin’ our rules, baby!”

Outside of the strict use of one weapon, mutually agreed upon, you both promised to never leave the premises, both for safety, and fairness. But, Joel was good—too good. If anything, it would give him a challenge.

You knew there would be consequences, but you couldn’t be bothered to care.

–

You had spent twelve hours evading him, bones and muscles aching with discomfort as you tripped, falling to the bed of rocks covered in slimy moss as you stumbled on your knees toward the running stream, cupping your hands to guide the water into your mouth, instantly quenching the thirst that had festered, patting your wet hands against your clammy skin, knees bloodied and dripping against the surface of the rock as you rested for a moment, catching your breath.

You welcomed the silence, wondering if Joel had stuck on the path of the road, unsuspecting that you would veer off barefoot into the forest on your own, constantly sticking by his side, vigilant of the threats that lingered there.

You whine as your cunt throbs with need, hastily shoving your hand under the fabric of your shorts to slide your fingers against the sticky, wet fabric of your underwear, the gentle press against your clit like a shock to the system, your free hand clutching onto nothing but air as you gasped, subconsciously rocking your hips against your hand.

Your eyes had fallen shut, lost in your own pleasure that you forget how vulnerable you are, nearly naked in an open forest where anyone could sneak up on you—though, no one traveled out this far and it had been several minutes since Joel had caught sight of you, the lack of defined tracks to follow proving difficult for him, but then you hear a sigh, a tsk.

He’s on you before you have a chance to react, knife at your throat as his teeth graze against the shell of your ear and he’s wrenching your hands away from your shorts, “Found you,” He hisses through clenched teeth, feeling his cock pressed against your thigh through the denim.

He was hot, burning up—both with a want for you, but physically, like a fever had taken over.

You hadn’t realized how much time had passed until you’re forcing your eyes open, staring up at the opaline moonlight, making Joel all the more threatening as you couldn’t see him, but you could feel him, rendered immobile as he worked himself over your hips, the weight of him keeping you still.

“S’right little mouse, ain’t got nowhere to go, do ya?” He taunts, fingers curling around your head as they dig into the root of your hair and tug, the blunt side of the knife running along your throat.

“How’d—how did—find me?” You choke out through broken, garbled gasps as the drool accumulated in your mouth at his scent, the freshness of soap from a shower the night before but a mix of his own arousal collecting in his jeans, “What gave it ‘way?”

“Can hear those perfect little whimpers from a mile away, baby,” He softens slightly, panting heavily against your skin as he belt jingles with subtle movement, slipping through the loops before he’s disposing of it to the side, “S’that why you ran? Scared I was gonna catch you playin’ with yourself in there—well, look at ya,” He taunts, “Got a special place for this one,”

You feel the cool edge of the knife drag along the side of your neck and down your spine, ripping through the fabric like butter, aided by the gentle tug of his hands as he ripped your top into pieces, repeating the process with your shorts, his fingers curling around the lacy edge of your underwear as he tugged up, dragging the tip of the blade along your cheek.

“Considering markin’ this pretty little ass up, that what you want?”

“S’that what you want?” You retort playfully.

There’s a small prick, another, pulling your underwear between your ass until he can get the blade underneath the fabric and with a quick flick of his wrist, it was nothing but trash, stuffed between his teeth as he inhaled your intoxicating scent, forcing your thighs apart as he cut lightly into your skin at first, an initial to mark his territory.

The letter J forever engraved at the inside of your thigh, the thumb of his unoccupied hand splitting through your folds and pressing against your swollen clit, distracting you from the sharp pain with his movements.

“S’beautiful,” He tells you, admiring the mark but also the way your cunt greedily sucks his thumb inside of you, “fuckin’ beautiful.”

Your hands balled into tight fists above your head as you writhe beneath him, “M’close, Joel—s’right there,” You moan, feeling his hand squeeze at your wounded thigh, his fingers stained with blood as he moves off of you, easily manhandling you onto your back as he stares down with dark, brooding eyes, disposed panties still stuffed in his mouth.

You rise onto your elbows as his hand molds over the back of your skull, nodding toward his buttoned jeans, his opposite hand reaching for your wrist as he guides it to the button before casually yanking the cloth from his mouth and stuffing it into the pocket of his jeans.

His unoccupied hand explores the peaks of your chest, soft and supple and begging to be squeezed, bitten, pert nipple the perfect size to fit between his lips and against the flat of his tongue, finding himself drifting at the thought before your roving touch brings him back.

“You feelin’ gracious?” He asks, “Gonna suck my cock?”

You nod obediently, his hand gripping tighter in your dirtied, damp hair.

He’s waiting, quietly, ominously, only barely satisfied as you begin to pry the button apart and pull at his zipper, the heat of his cock pressing against the fabric as you rub your palm over it teasingly, earning a sharp tug in return.

“You wanna keep up the game?” Joel asks like a warning, “I’ll hunt you through these damn woods, girl. And I won’t play nice.”

There’s a rawness to his voice during times like this, during the hunt. It’s similar to how he sounds as he rouses from bed, groggy with sleep—relaxed, but resting at a deep, booming register.

You pout slightly, squeezing your hand over the damp fabric of his underwear, precum seeping through the front as you lean forward, running your tongue along the cotton before pulling with your teeth at the waistband, tucking his underwear beneath his balls as you like from base to tip in one fluid movement, intoxicated by his scent.

It was mostly clean, but earthy—a day worth of exhilarating hunt and the heat of both the day and the pollen seeping from his pores, he’s salty and sweet, your tongue sliding slowly over the slit before he’s pushing his cock beyond your lips with a solid pump of his hips, moaning at the intrusion.

He favors the soft whimpers as your eyes flutter with the press of his cock against the back of your throat, fucking himself into your mouth with a tight hand in your hair, eyes welling with tears as you gasp after a particularly deep thrust, eyes blown wide as he pulled you off of his cock suddenly, moving to match his stance as you rise unsteadily to your knees.

“Nuh uh,” He admonished, “down, turn around.”

You open your mouth to speak and Joel slaps your face once, sharp, not entirely unsuspected as there was a clear definite line of who was in charge, always testing your limits when he asserted his dominance—you knew it was coming, you wanted it.

“S’your one and only warning,” He tells you sternly, “now turn.”

In times of desperate need and insatiable desire, it was easier to be a vessel to him. Fulfilling his release of pent up aggression and carefully tucked away primal nature, he shifts quietly behind you to stand and strip himself naked, fisting his cock into his hand as he rubs it through your slick folds, puffy and swollen from how badly you needed to be filled by him, consumed.

“So fragile, little mouse,” He takes glance of the weeping wound between your thighs and the flutter of your hole as he fits the head of his cock inside of you, only an inch of his thick and swollen cock, a collective sigh of relief from you both at the connection, “Need to remind you what it means to be mine, don’t I?”

“Joel fucking get on with it alread—”

Joel quickly twists his hand into your hair and pulls your head up, gasping as the hands under your chest curls into fists, pulling you flush with his pelvis as he slips inside of you in one quick motion, feeling the sting as his fingers dig into your skin.

“Smart mouth,” He comments, “so fuckin’ dumb for this cock your forget how to behave yourself, ain’t that right?”

You groan pathetically as he yanks at your hair, “You need me to do it for you, old man?”

You wiggle your ass slightly back against his cock, a harsh huff of breath through his nose before he’s dipping your head under the water as you both teeter near the edge of the rock, with the current you could feel the faint splashes against your skin, but he takes advantage of the gap and dunks your head in the chilled water for a moment, pulling you back up as you gasp.

“You done?” He asks, earning a pitched giggle in return, airy and light as you find the effort amusing, leading him closer toward the edge of the cliff, guiding him into a space that would help him use, without guilt or remorse for his actions.

“Depends,” You challenge, your cunt clenching around his cock as he shifts his hips, one movement from exploding as your clit throbbed intensely.

As a result, he dunks your head once more, this time for a moment longer than last and you find yourself coughing, sputtering air as your wet hair drips over your face, blinking the bleariness from your eyes.

"Always forget how much you like it when I hurt you,” Joel notes with a tone of admiration.

You hum in approval, wretched back by his unyielding hand as he pulls you flush with his chest, your hand flying into his hair as the other drifts over your clit, his hips pummeling into you at furious pace, teeth digging deep into your shoulder.

“C’mon, baby,” He coos, cradling your head in his hand as it lulls back, fingers curling your clit in desperation as his groans melt into your skin, “fuck—she’s squeezin’ me tight, you feelin’ that?”

His hips slow for a moment, deep thrusts as the head of his cock rubs against that nauseatingly sweet spot inside of you, eyes rolling back at the sensation as your orgasm takes hold, pulling Joel over the edge unexpectedly with your whimpering breaths of relief, held up entirely by his own brute strength as he fucks into you lazily, pumping you full of his cum with every thrust.

There’s an immediate exhaustion as instant satisfaction fills your body and his own.

Though, you know it won’t last.

It was temporary, an ease to the ache that had a mind of its own on when it would weaken.

Joel’s fingers drifting between your legs playfully as he scoops up his own cum as it spilled out of you, dripping down the inside of your thighs before he feeds it into your mouth, resting lazily against his frame as he rest on one arm and hip, smearing the slick against your tongue before he brings your mouth to his, a greedy exchange as he licks into your mouth, chuckling as you eagerly leaned in for more, moving forward as he pulled away.

“Easy, baby,” He chastises, “I’m not goin’ anywhere. I’m right here.”

–

You can’t avoid how vulnerable it feels to trek back naked, hair mussed and your steps mimicking a drunken state as you stumble, guided upstairs and into the shower attached to the office, small and compact but at least there was running water and amenities packed away in Joel’s pack for you to use, every inch of your skin overly sensitive as you wash away the grime, feeling Joel approach from behind, careful removing the soap from your hand.

“We’re all locked up,” He informs you, doing another quick sweep as you stepped inside of the shower—he’s increasingly more relaxed now, but the heightened senses linger, his gentle touch igniting the fire in your gut as you turn on him, watching as he lathered his chest in the soap before asking, “still botherin’ ya, huh?”

You reach for him silently, pressing your lips to his tentatively, his gentleness returning with the hand that rests against your hip, slowly extending to your back as he pulls you in.

You loved him like this even more—the soft hums he released as you tilted your head to kiss him, his lips parting as you snuck your tongue into his mouth, filtering your finger through his hair and meeting him with a similar, relaxed passion.

Silently, he guides your hand to the small shelf embedded into the corner of the shower and crowds you against the tile, descending on old, aching knees despite himself. He’d pay for it later, he knows he will, but the way your leg instinctively lifts and rests over his shoulder is enough to soothe the pain for a brief time, the intensity of desire coming in waves.

He licks a long strip up the center of your folds, sucking on your clit as he eventually turns the water off entirely, your moans reverberating off the ceramic, practiced flicks of his tongue bringing you near your end quickly, sneaking two of his fingers inside of you as you come, always amazed at how greedy you pussy was to consume whatever it was he gave you.

Fingers, tongue, cock—it didn’t matter.

He peers up at you through a half-lidded gaze, your fingers running through damp hair as he slowly rises to his feet, peppering kissing up and along your body as he stands again.

“Let’s get dried off,” He tells you, “I know you’re starvin’—worked up a big appetite after today.”

Joel carefully wraps the towel around your body as he does the same, tying it around his waist as he chuckles at your smile, “Guess you could say that.”

And just as you think the pollen has finally worn off, it comes like a fever in the night.

At first, you insist it must be a dream, the way Joel is so helplessly rutting against your backside, tucked tight against his chest as you shared the singular blanket and pillow despite the other bed. He wanted you closer, he wanted you near.

You smell like honey and home—home like Jackson, that faint hint of charred wood from the fireplace that was constantly running in your home.

He’s willing and malleable to your movements as you guide him to his back, carefully slipping your underwear to the side as you guide him inside of you, a lazy pace as your chests meet, breathing into each other’s mouths as squeezes at any available skin he can access.

“So goddamn lucky,” He murmurs, “always takin’ care of me.”

His pointed thrust drove his words home, his nails digging into your hip as he came for the second time that night, nothing in his voice left to give as his throat felt raw, grunting pathetically as his seed spilled inside of you, a warmth radiating throughout and a sudden feeling of complete relief.

“I think we’re in the clear now,” You admit tiredly, rubbing your hands gently over his flushed chest as you glance up at him, both of you sighing at the loss as you move off of him and return to your previous position, barely registering the swipe of fabric between your legs as Joel cleaned you up without acknowledgment before he’s pulling you tight into his chest.

“Need to convince Tommy into letting me take up this patrol in the winter.”

You snicker quietly at his mischievous nature.

“Is that all I’m good for?” You tease playfully, “Scratchin’ that itch?”

“A couple of ‘em,” He admits honestly, pressing a soft kiss against the spot behind your ear, “s’good idea—as long as you don’t go breakin’ the rules and runnin’ off into the forest again—”

“Alright, alright, big guy,” You admonish, patting his head blindly over your shoulder as he shakes your hand away, “it’s not like you were really complaining about it.”

“Yeah, ‘cause I knew just where to look.”

Of course he did.

You scoff lightly, “Oh, I’m sure—you got me down pat, like a damn book, don’t you?”

“Correct, baby,” He answers, “Ain’t no hiding from me.”

It’s a comfort, knowing he was always near.

Joel would always find you, no matter the situation.

#primal #joel miller #oneshot #2k~5k #smut #fluff #sex pollen #hunter/prey #tumblr #ao3 #explicit

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