#ppcu | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

stitch-away · 2 days ago

Text

under the armour

pairing: trans din djarin x cis male reader

summary: after trusting you with his face for years, din decides he's comfortable to come out to you

tags: MDNI, smut, fluff, coming out, friends to lover, humping, virgin din, he's quick to cum, lowkey cuddle fucking, talk of pregnancy

word count: 1.7k

a/n: once again here to push a trans hc,, trans din djarin. lowkey ends similarly to the ezra fic but i can't resist a good mpreg conversation so it's staying there. remember to use protection even for trans masc folks. t isn't contraception

pride month masterlist

as a long day of not much comes to an end, din feels a sense of contentment and peace wash over him. his day has consisted solely of him and his co-pilot, you, playing with grogu. it was supposed to be training for the little one but it had devolved into simple fun, not goal orientation outside of feeling good. despite din’s incessant insistence on training, he allowed himself to relax today. it brought him a sense of ease he hasn’t felt in a long time.

he turns over in his pilot’s seat, running a gloved hand through his hair. wearing his helmet around you has long been forgotten. you’ve been travelling together for years now, his level of comfort with you is beyond what he’s felt with anyone else.

“cyar'ika,” din mutters, capturing your attention. you turn in your seat, looking over at din. as you notice the serious look in his eyes, you straighten up, turning to face him completely.

“what’s wrong?” you ask, worried about what he could say. there’s hardly anything you don’t know about each other. even though din’s not the most talkative person, he’s gotten to be more open with you, so the idea that there’s something he isn’t telling you is unnerving.

“we’ve been doing this for a while now,” din says, taking a deep breath, “i trust you. i’ve shown you my face. i want you to know about this part of myself too.”

“okay,” you say softly, nodding for him to continue. there’s a look of concern on his face that makes your stomach feel ill, but you know for a fact that nothing could ever make you hate him. ever. “you can tell me, din. i promise i’d never judge you.”

“i know,” he nods, his soft brown eyes leaving yours to stare at the floor, “i was not born a man. i was born female. but i always knew there was something not quite right. being a mandalorian made things easier as no one could tell who i was underneath the armour. but it wasn’t about other people, it’s about me and my body. i couldn’t look at it and see a woman’s body anymore. so i transitioned and now i look the way i’ve always felt.” he brings his eyes back up to meet yours. it’s clear to you that this isn’t easy for him, being so open about something that once caused him great distress.

“oh, din,” you sigh, smiling, “i’m so happy you told me and i’m glad i made you feel like you could. i understand why you were worried, but i��ll always be there for you, mando. your past is of no concern to me. you are the wonderful person in front of me right now.”

“thank you,” din nods, smiling somewhat awkwardly but you can tell he appreciates your words. you stand up out of your seat and walk over to give him a hug. he’s never been much of a hugger in all of your years together, but this time he reciprocates, hugging you back tightly. he pulls you down into the seat with him, earning a shocked gasp from you.

“what’s that for?” you frown, lacking any malice in your expression as you stare down at din’s smirking face.

“nothing,” he shrugs, letting his hands drift down your torso, “we should go to bed. been a long day.” he pats the side of your hip and pushes you off his lap gently.

“yeah,” you nod, trying to brush off what din just did, “good night.” din smiles at you and disappears off into his quarters.

although you’re undeniably confused, din’s light temperament is a good sign. he obviously trusts you as much as he says he does. with a warmth in your chest, you retire to your own quarters, getting changed and slipping into bed.

before you can fall asleep, a knock comes at the door of your quarters and it slides open, revealing din, wrapped up in his pajamas. you sit up and din approaches, sitting on the edge of your bed.

“what’s up, mando?” you ask, “can’t sleep?” din shakes his head.

“i just…” he sighs, unable to look at you once again, “was wondering if you’d let me sleep in your bed tonight– with you?” this isn’t something he’s ever asked of you. you’ve asked if you could sleep in his bed a few times due to nightmares, but he’s never asked for the return.

“yeah, yeah, of course,” you say, shuffling over to make room for him, “least i can do, seeing as you’ve let me sleep in yours.” din smiles through the darkness, hopping into the bed next to you. usually when you sleep together, he faces away from you, you having a long night of his staring at your back. but tonight faces you. you can see his soft smile still there.

“you want a cuddle or something, mando?” you chuckle, opening your arms for him. he nods, shuffling over and snuggling into your arms. you run a hand through his hair, earning a soft hum from him. it’s not quite a purr, but it’s close. he leans into your touch, encouraging you to explore more of his hair.

as you curl your fingers into his hair, he moves his head to nuzzle into your neck. you feel his aquiline nose run up your neck and then a soft press of his lips under your chin. the feeling of his lips against your neck sends a shiver down your spine. your fingers flex, tugging at din’s hair on accident, causing him to whimper.

“din?” you whisper, pulling back to look him in the eyes.

“cyar'ika,” he says, his voice firm. he knows what he wants and he’s telling you. he wants you.

one of his hands grips your hip and the other slips round your waist, pushing your crotch against his. he grinds your bulge to his noticeable lack of one, earning grunting moans from the pair of you.

“shit– din,” you moan, shoving his head into your neck, “i wanna be inside you– please.” your desperate plea goes straight to din’s cock; he feels himself getting wetter. he nibbles at your neck softly, flicking his tongue out to lick a stripe up your neck before grabbing one of your hands and slipping it into his pants.

“i want you too,” he breathes, dipping your fingers into his dripping wet cunt, “please.” the feeling of his cunt clenching round your fingers is almost enough to make you cum.

“fuck,” you groan, flipping din onto his back and tugging at his pants. din shoves your hands away, pulling his pants down himself as you shove yours down enough to let your aching cock free. his eyes widen when he sees the size of you. he’s never seen anyone else’s genitals before, his creed inexplicitly forbidding it, so the sight of your cock makes him drool. “like it?”

din nods, letting out a whimper. he flicks his eyes up to yours. he doesn’t need to say a word, his desires are clear. positioning yourself between his legs, you line your cock up with his hole, pressing in. it’s a tight squeeze, trying to fit inside din’s tight virgin hole, but you make it work.

“easy, easy, breathe for me,” you whisper, rubbing din’s waist as he winces, gripping your arm tight. he nods, taking a deep breath. “it’ll hurt a bit but it’ll feel real good in a second, i promise.”

like clockwork, your next thrust hits his g spot square on and his eyes roll back, a loud moan leaving his lips.

“shit,” he whines, “do that again.” you chuckle, leaning in to kiss him and you replicate your thrusts. they’re slow and methodical, making certain that his first time feels good.

“that feel good, baby?” you moan, slipping a hand between you two, finding his clit. he clings to you, his hands scrambling for purchase on your back, as he throws his head back with a needy moan.

“nghh– mhm,” din bucks up against your hand, his head lolling back as he moans for you. one of his hands finds your hair and he tugs hard.

“fuck- din!” you wince, leaning back to ease his grip. he immediately loosens and he mutters an apology. you lean down and press a soft kiss to his lips. “it’s okay– i know it feels good.”

“r–really good,” din moans. you can feel him getting closer as he clenches around your cock.

“you gonna cum, baby?” you smirk, circling his clit faster as you speed up your thrusts. he nods, squeezing his eyes shut.

“please,” he whimpers. you kiss him again, holding him close as you bring him orgasm. he moans into your mouth and clenches around you again, harder this time, bringing you over the edge with him. you snap your hips forwards, lapping your tongue into din’s mouth, as you fuck both of you through your orgasms.

you lay there in each other’s arms for a moment, bathing in the wake of your orgasms. when you pull back, your cock slips out of din with a pop and a squelch, your cum leaking out of his hole. as you stare in awe of the delicious sight of him sprawled out, well fucked, below you, you remember– he could get pregnant.

“shit!” you mutter, “din– can you get pregnant? i mean, you got the parts to, right?” din’s eyes widen and he pauses, thinking for a moment.

“i mean, i do but i don’t get my period,” he says, shrugging, “so i really couldn’t tell you. it’s not something i thought i’d ever need to worry about.”

“oh– okay,” you nod. his words are not exactly a relief, “what happens if you are pregnant?” din chuckles.

“let’s hope that doesn’t happen,” he smiles, cupping your cheek, “but if it does, i’m sure we’ll figure something out. i honestly don’t think i’d mind having a kid– someone for grogu to hang out with. the belly might not fit in the armour, though.” you laugh, dropping your head into his neck.

“yeah, i don’t think it would,” you sigh, the laughter easing your concerns, “you really okay with this?” din nods, kissing you softly on the lips.

“i’m okay with this– with all of this. thank you.” you kiss him back, pulling him in to spoon him, cuddling up with him.

“any time, mando,” you whisper, kissing him on the cheek.

♡♡♡♡

tags: @perezososstuff @alfiestreacle @archive-of-ink

#din djarin #din djarin x male reader #din djarin x reader #trans din djarin #pedrito pride month #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedritos #pedrito pairing #ppcu #ppcu fics #pedro pascal smut #stitch-away

28 notes · View notes

baronessvonglitter · 2 days ago

Text

Law of Attraction ~ Chapter 9

Rom Com AU divorce lawyer!Dave York x fem!Reader (featuring club owner-turned-jail inmate!Javier Peña)

Word count: 5,368

Summary: Throughout many trials and tribulations, you and Dave are each other's second love.

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Explicit for smut. Domestic fluff. Divorce. Unprotected piv. Semi-public sex. Office sex. Another P-boi mentioned! Courtroom drama. Heavy rom com vibes in the second half. Long distance lovers. Phone sex. Happily Ever After ❤��

A/n: at the end

Series Masterlist Series Playlist

With Carol gone, Dave takes time off from work to stay with the girls. He's explained to them what is going to happen in the divorce, and though they're sad about their mom leaving, it's obvious they're relieved that the tension in the household is gone and they can breathe easier.

You've been careful not to intrude on Dave as he's recollecting the pieces of his life into something new. While you've both confessed your love for one another, you don't want to make any demands on his time. It doesn't mean he doesn't need you, though. He calls you over because the girls ask for you, and he insists he wants you there as well, despite your inner misgivings.

The nights are comfortable when you help him cook dinner while Maple, the other invited guest, enjoys the girls playing with her. There's a warm and cozy feeling that resides in your stomach when the five of you settle in to watch a movie, the girls between you with Maple on their laps, and you and Dave exchanging little smiles over their shoulders, mouthing sweet nothings to each other.

You don't know how to tell him that you're going to Paris after all.

You got the email the day after the fiasco at the motel. At that time everything still seemed so topsy turvy that you had to read it through twice, then three times before you realized you'd been accepted into the culinary program. Your sister was elated to find out, and talked about the place you'd be bunking in together for the duration of your stay in the City of Lights.

It's on the tip of your tongue to tell Dave, to let him know that you need this, but you hate leaving him when he needs you.

And currently, the tip of your tongue is pushing against his as you grind down on him in his office chair.

You're there for other business, but Dave couldn't resist meeting you at the elevator, that little light in his eyes already telling you what he wanted.

Now, door locked and blinds shut, he sinks into your softness, hands grabbing your ass as he guides you up and down. Skirt bunched up and panties pushed to the side you ride him in his office chair, the squeak of the soft leather sounding out the tempo as he pushes you down onto him while thrusting up into you.

He buries his face in your neck, mesmerized by your scent, letting it tie him to this moment where you're both (nearly) free to truly be together. He can't get enough of the little breathy sounds you make, softly panting in his ear, your whimpers growing louder, more urgent as he's hitting just the right spot.

God, he wishes he could have you naked right now.

He gently lifts you off of him and turns you, facing the desk. Your face is warm as you brace yourself, pressing your cheek to the cool surface of the polished desk. Behind you, Dave lifts the hem of your dress and exposes your smooth, round ass, pussy peeking out between your thighs. Taking a second to admire it, he glides his finger across your folds, smirking when you whimper and your knees shake a little.

"I've always wanted to bend you over my desk," he says, leaning over you to whisper in your ear while the tip of him notches at your entrance. You push back, eager for him to slip in, but he pulls away enough to tease you.

"Dave," you whine, and he only gets harder at the sound of it. "Ezra's going to be here any minute!" There's a sort of laughter in your voice as if you wouldn't mind either being late for your meeting with the DA or have him walk in on you in flagrante delicto.

"He won't mind," Dave smirks again. "Come on, baby. This has been one of my fantasies. And you're wearing that dress.." he leans over again to nibble on your earlobe.

Not that you need much convincing. The two of you are making up for a lot of lost time.

You can't help letting out a needy little moan as he slides into you again, the breath nearly knocked out of you as he pushes in to the hilt. His hands are on your hips as he takes just a moment for you to catch your breath before he starts a nice and steady rhythm.

You cede control, letting him set the pace, loving everything he does because it's him. Your hands grasp the edge of the desk, accidentally knocking over a pen holder when his thrusts get rougher. Dave is in heaven. Never before has he mixed business with pleasure, he's just never been the type to actually do something like this.

You bring out everything in him he's tried to hide before, and for that he's grateful.

You're pliant beneath him, yet also pushing back, giving and taking. He knows exactly where to touch you, how to push your buttons and keep you begging. It was only supposed to be a quickie, just a little way of showing how much you love and have missed each other, but you can never peel yourselves away from each other for too long.

"More!" you gasp, your hands resting on his on your hips. He brings one to his lips to kiss your palm before taking your hand in his to reach under your skirt to press against your throbbing clit. You're pretty sure the entire office floor can hear when you come apart, clenching around him relentlessly until he empties inside of you, breathless and starting to sweat.

You've just finished cleaning up when there's a quick knock at Dave's office door. He opens it to reveal Ezra Prospect, the District Attorney pressing charges against Javier and Steve regarding their criminal activities. He's also, as you've come to learn, Dave's cousin. He's an older version of Dave, with a mustache, patchy beard, and a shock of white hair above his right brow, which you can't help looking at.

He gives a sly glance to the two of you, as if he knows what you've been up to just before his entrance.

"Good afternoon. I hope I'm not imposing upon your time, but I hope to have the pleasure of a moment's conversation with you, ma'am," he says by way of greeting. His brown eyes shift between you and Dave.

Dave watches intently as Ezra schools you on what to do, what to say, how to act at Javi's trial. Now that you're no longer Javi's wife you are able to testify against him, and despite knowing it's for the best, you can't help feeling somewhat traitorous to the man you loved for so long. Even if he withheld his entire world from you.

Ezra assures you it will be fine, that the law above all things must prevail in order for justice to reign, just as he assures you there will be no trouble on your part in Javi's and Steve's crimes. What that means, the little look exchanged between him and Dave, is unknown to you, and you don't ask.

"I must say, your sartorial choices are feminine and unique, undeniably you," Ezra tells you on his way out. "That said, given the nature of your upcoming court appearance, it would be most prudent to opt for attire that leans towards the conservative, so you may present yourself in a manner aligning with the decorum and gravity of the setting."

You glance down at your dress, which was not at all what you'd planned to wear on the witness stand, and Dave cuts in to stop his cousin.

"She knows what to wear to court, damn it," he says, arms crossed.

But Ezra is already on the defensive. "Given the rather public and unfortunate indiscretions of your former husband, it would serve you well to present yourself with an air of unimpeachable virtue, a veritable emblem of grace and propriety, rivaling even the sanctity of the Blessed Virgin herself."

"Less Marilyn, more Jackie. Got it," you force a smile.

Dave speaks in low tones with Ezra as they walk back to the elevator, and is all smiles when he returns to you, giving you a soft kiss. "I apologize. My cousin is.. wordy."

"I'd say garrulous."

He smiles. "That's nicer. What he said earlier.. he means well."

"I get it. Javi made a lot of dirty connections and I have to be seen as clean. I know Ezra didn't mean anything by it."

"How do you feel about testifying?" he asks, wrapping his arms around you, kissing the top of your head.

"Nervous," you admit, though you are starting to melt in his arms. "Will you be there in the courtroom with me?"

"Of course. Nothing would keep me from it."

It's an inside joke between you and Dave that your finalized divorce and his impending one is the inspiration for your bakery's newest fad: divorce cakes.

You've typically taken orders for special events like weddings and graduations, but both of you have come to realize that divorces, though an emotional and often difficult process, can be a celebration as well. Dave is the first to order a divorce cake. He's almost nice enough to have it made in Carol's favorite flavor, raspberry chocolate, but ultimately decides on sending her most hated flavor: carrot cake.

You smile to yourself, humming a happy little tune as you decorate the heart-shaped cake with icing and finish it with white script:

I'm Divorcing You

It goes into a vibrant red box, something that looks perfect for a loved one to receive, and is delivered to her new address. You wish you could see the look on her face when she opens it.

The courtroom is abuzz with chatter in the moments before Javi's trial starts. You stand just outside, keeping yourself sequestered. You're today's witness and it feels like everyone is ready for the drama to begin. Dave notices the way your hand grabs onto his, clinging for dear life. He presses a soft kiss to your temple in an effort to soothe you. "I'll be right here for you," he promises, rubbing your arm. "I love you," he says.

"I love you too," you tell him, giving hin a quick, strong hug before he goes in to be seated. He gives you a lingering look before going within, and the doors close behind him.

As the trial begins, you hear the muffled voices within, occasionally the banging of the judge's gavel. Seated on your bench, you stare down at the marble floor, creating patterns. It feels like there's a lump in your throat. When the bailiff opens the door to let you in, the footsteps of your sensible heels are almost as loud as the beat of your heart. You could be on the verge of a panic attack. What would happen if you were to puke while in the witness stand? Maybe the whole thing could be declared a mistrial.

As you swear on the Bible to make a wholly true statement of the facts as you know them, you're seated. You take a quick glance around, seeing Ezra on the prosecutor's side. He doesn't smile at you, just nods. He can't be seen to be on any overly friendly terms with you, but his encouragement means just as much. At the defense table sits Javi, being tried separately from Steve. Javi looks the same, neatly shaved and mustache perfectly trimmed. His hair is a little longer, styled away from his face. His suit is one you've never seen before, smaller to suit his new leaner figure. When his eyes meet yours there's no spark the way there used to be. All the cheating, the lies, the constant worry, all come to the forefront of your mind. You used to love this man. You used to think he was the one you'd grow old with. He even looks guilty now, the wrinkles around his eyes that you used to find so attractive now make him look older, past his prime. You can only offer a sympathetic look before he turns his face away in shame. Last of all you find Dave, seated towards the back, his arms crossed as he watches you with concern. This is the man with who your future lies. He's the man who taught you to believe in love after you thought it might no longer exist. When your gazes meet it's like magic. You feel a sweet tingling through your body, from your head to your toes. He's the one you do smile at, and he smiles back, warmth in his eyes.

The questioning begins, and you take Ezra's lead and answer truly to the fullest extent of your ability. Javi's past is questioned, his dealing in criminal activities, and your knowledge of them. With a clear voice you give your answers, your hear beating loud in your ears, a nervous buzzing in your brain.

You're cross examined by the defense attorney, a broad man with gold rings on each fat finger and a smug look on his pudgy face. He asks his questions with disdain, often interrupted by Ezra's objections, and the judge agreeing. It seems like the trial is already going in favor of a guilty verdict for Javi.

Later when you're released, you meet Dave in the corridor and say nothing, only enveloping him in a big, much-needed hug. "Ready to get out of here? I know you've got to be hungry by now," he murmurs before kissing the top of your head.

You're about to answer when you see Ezra approaching. "If you don't mind, dear cousin," he drawls. "May I steal your lady away for a brief moment? I promise to return her in the same lovely condition she's in presently."

With a curious look you follow Ezra through a veritable maze of corridors before entering a small meeting room. Only Javi is present, along with a guard. He stands when you come in.

"I want you to know I'm sorry," he says. "I mean it. I'm sorry for all of it. You deserve so much better than I gave you."

You shake your head. "Javi, it doesn't matter anymore. I accept your apology, but-"

"Please let me finish?" He uses those puppy-dog eyes on you and you nod for him to continue. "I know I'm going to prison, baby. I can't stop it and I won't fight it. It's better than the punishment I deserve."

He pauses, watching to see if you're really listening. You swallow hard, nodding once more for him to go on.

Javi sighs. "I know the judge. I've greased a few palms. Your testimony will be one of many against me, but I've made sure that there will be no fallout on you. You knew things about my work and you kept it quiet. I will always appreciate that. But you don't deserve any bad just because you loved the wrong man."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying.. I've made sure that you won't be penalized. No imprisonment, no fines.. you'll be let go to live your life. That's what I want for you."

"Javi-"

"I loved you the best way I could, but it wasn't as much as you deserve. I brought you down with me but I refuse to bring you down all the way, understand? Your testimony will help put me away. I won't use any schemes for early release or any of that bullshit. I'm gonna do the time. I spent my life being selfish, now let me do a good thing for the woman who put up with my stupidity."

"Javi," you whisper. "Do you.. do you really mean that?"

"I do. I know you think you can't trust me, but I didn't make all these connections for nothing. You were safeguarded from the start. And now you're free." He pauses, his tongue running across his lower lip. "I've seen you with that guy, that lawyer.. I see the way you look at each other. He's a good guy. You should be with him," he says, nodding as if he's encouraging himself to say the words. "You love him don't you?"

"I do," you say without hesitation. "And he loves me."

"Then it's for the best." He wipes at his eyes and a part of you can't believe he's crying. It's the first time you've ever witnessed it. "Take my word, baby. You deserve nothing but happiness and if you go with him you'll never lack for it."

You shake your head, a little dizzy at all that's transpired. "Javi, I don't know what to say.."

"You don't have to say anything. Just go.. and maybe don't tell any cops about this.." You both smile at his meager attempt at a joke.

This could be your cue to leave, but lingering questions remain, and who know when you'll get the chance to ask again. "So it was Steve all this time? Was I just the backup?"

"No," he says vehemently. "No to both. Steve just happened, and for a long time I suppressed that part of me. But I loved you from the start, even though I was shitty at showing it."

"Thank you," you tell him, "for letting me go."

"It's the only thing to do now, isn't it?" he says sadly. "It's the only perfect way for our story to end."

Dave is impressed when you give him the playback. He'd never imagined Javi to be the cavalier type. But he's grateful to the man, because now he has you and he intends to never let go.

Staring at you across the table from him at your usual booth at Valentina's, he takes in this moment with you. With his unhappy marriage to Carol at an end and with Javier getting the punishment he deserves, it really is just the two of you now.

The ring in its box feels heavy in his pocket. He's been carrying it around since the day he filed for divorce, keeping it with him every time he was around you. And now would be the perfect time. That same Frank Sinatra song is playing, reminiscent of your first visit here together, and there's a small vase of wildflowers on the table, but most importantly you're looking at him with that beautiful smile curving your lips.

"Dave, we need to talk," you suddenly tell him, and he can't ignore the odd way his heart speeds up.

"Of course," he says. "What is it?" His hand reaches out towards yours on the table. Your dessert is untouched and he senses your anxiety.

That's when you tell him about Paris, about the chance you have to broaden your horizons and better yourself, expand the cafe menu and improve your business. And your sister will be there. You wouldn't want to travel alone.

Dave listens to all this with a smile, keeping the ring box where it is. He can't ask you now, not when you have other dreams you need to make come true. He can't ask you and risk you staying behind just for him, and he knows you well enough. You'd put everything on hold for him, and he can't allow that.

June in Paris makes you feel like both an outsider and an actor on a cinematic set. Creamy building facades and wrought iron balconies looks styled yet feel lived-in. Every neighborhood from Montmartre to the Latin Quarter offers a different rhythm, but the thing they hold in common is movement. Taxis zip past wide boulevards, trains hum in and out of Gare du Nord, all the while locals sit at corner cafes for hours, sipping wine, unbothered by time.

Your days are spent at the Academy, where your sister and you part ways in opposite directions, you to the culinary wing and she to the art wing, warm coffees in hand despite the early heat of the morning.

At lunch you meet at a cafe or grab something quick and share at a picnic table on campus. Sometimes one or both of you work through the break, only seeing each other at the shared apartment leased by the school for students in the training program. In the first few weeks you're too tired to cook at night, but after being subjected to your little sister's idea of tuna casserole, you eventually help her out with some recipes you've picked up, and the two of you bake fresh bread every weekend, enjoying walking the avenues and window shopping.

Paris is everything you thought it would be, but it doesn't have Dave.

The two of you talk every day, phone calls despite the time difference, and texts in between. On nights when your sister is out, visiting her own blossoming romance, you FaceTime Dave. Your chats start out innocent, catching up, declaring your love, and slips easily into phone sex. You watch each other get off, describing in great detail what you would do to each other, the ways you've fantasized about one another in each other's absence. Your vibrator is nothing compared to the way Dave can make you come. You miss his fingers, his tongue, his perfect cock. He misses your soft body, the way you grow wet from his touch, your sweet gasps and sighs as he bottoms out, moving fluidly against you.

It's a longing you can't extinguish, but he insists this is the best for you. You need time to chase your dreams. Dave says he's not going anywhere. You're the only thing he wants, and you're worth waiting for.

Your time in Paris is coming to an end. While you're sad to be leaving a city that has taught you so much, you're also looking forward to Dave's visit.

He told you he would have visited every week if you'd wanted, but you insisted you didn't need to be in the way while he settled details of the divorce with Carol. They're sharing custody, with the girls going to their mother's every weekend, and the girls going to therapy to help sort out their feelings about their parents' divorce. It took a lot of convincing for Carol to start going as well, but eventually she relented, and Dave went as well, wanting all of them to be a happy and healthy family unit, even if he and Carol weren't together.

He wants to be better for you. Whatever mistakes he made with Carol, regardless of her own selfish choice to have an affair, he doesn't ever want you to feel like you're taking a backseat, You and his daughters are the most important things, and he vows to never let a day go by without telling you so.

His heart is in his throat as he approaches your apartment door, a bouquet of lilies in hand. Your sister answers and she smirks as she sizes him up. "Hey sis!" she calls out, keeping her eyes on Dave. "Your lawyer is here!"

"Just a minute!" your voice floats out from the back bedroom.

"I guess she's right," she muses as she lets Dave in. "You do look a little like Paul Newman."

You enter, bringing the fragrance of vanilla and musk, putting in your favorite earrings. "I can't believe you're here!" You leap into his arms and he catches you, your mouths finding each other immediately.

"That's my cue to leave," your sister mutters, chuckling, taking the bouquet from Dave's hand behind your back and putting it in some water. "I'll be at Fabienne's," she announces, "later, gators!" She leaves to give you both some much-needed privacy.

You intend to drag him to the bedroom immediately, and it takes every ounce of strength he has to pull away. "Paul Newman, huh?" he teases, his arms around your waist.

"We may have been watching old movies and I may have made some comparisons," you say mysteriously.

"Now are we talking Paul Newman in.. The Hustler?"

"Hmm.. better looking."

"Ooh. How about Cat on a Hot Tin Roof?"

"Don't push your luck," you say with a grin, pulling him in for another kiss. "I missed you.."

"Not nearly as much as I missed you," he mumbles against your lips.

"Is Maple behaving herself?"

"Absolutely. She's being given the princess treatment. The girls are pampering her with treats and walks at the park every day. She's in doggy heaven," he assures you. "She'll be happy to have you come home."

Home, he thinks. Wherever you want that to be..

You have dinner at a small bistro within walking distance, enjoying the calm ambience and the sophisticated fare. You want to linger as the wine runs out, the both of you staring at each other with lovesick eyes. But Dave wants to see the Eiffel Tower and it's getting late. There's so much to try to do while he's here for the weekend.

"So you haven't been to see it at all?" he asks, holding your hand as you walk through the Champs de Mars, the Tower itself looming magnificently tall in the golden light of evening.

"I've been waiting to see it with you." You squeeze his hand and lean in to graze his cheek with your kiss. He can't believe how lucky he is that you've saved something so special just for him. Now he's even more determined to see the view of Paris with you at the top.

Both of you too winded to try to make it to the top. On a compromise you stay right in the middle, on the second floor. It still offers one of the best views of the city, all aglow as the sky gives way to dreamy blue. You lean your head on Dave's shoulder, smiling as he plants a kiss on your hair.

"I can't think of a more perfect ending to this night," you whisper, your heart full as you make a wish to keep this moment bottled for all eternity. The stars sparkle overhead, twinkling, as if they can deliver on that wish.

Dave steps away to ask another visitor take a photo of the two of you. He whispers quietly in their ear, quickly guiding them to the camera setting on his phone before going back to you. The stranger snaps a few pics, giving a thumbs up to let you know they look good. You and Dave try a few silly poses, ending with one where you're kissing.

He insists on taking one of you by yourself, staring out at the city spread out below. Caught up in the moment you agree, looking out at the view. "It's so beautiful," you sigh, taking in the luminescence of the city, your gaze drawn out to the inky horizon.

"I'd argue you're a far more beautiful sight," Dave says behind you, and you don't hide a chuckle.

"Lawyers will always find a way to argue-" You stop mid-sentence, stunned at the scene before you: Dave, on one knee, holding up a velvet box in which rests the most dazzling diamond ring you've ever laid eyes on.

"Baby," Dave's voice breaks, filled to the brim with emotion. "I had this whole speech planned out and now, seeing you takes all my breath away. You're the woman I've been waiting for my whole life. I felt it from the moment we met. It took so much heartbreak to bring us together, but I'd do it all again just to find you."

With a sob you pull him up to you, needing to touch him and make sure he's real. "Dave.." you whisper, eyes brimming with tears.

"I want to make you happy every day of your life," he whispers, wiping a few stray tears from your cheeks. "Will you let me do that? Will you marry me?"

"Yes!" you say excitedly. "Yes, I will!" And he scoops you into his arms in the tightest hug you've ever known. When he puts the dazzling diamond on your finger it fits perfectly, just as you knew it would.

The crowd that had formed at the sight applauses, and your sister steps out, beaming with joy at the look on your face. She has your parents and Dave's girls on FaceTime and everyone is overjoyed, congratulating you. They'd all been in cahoots with Dave's plan to make the beginning of your journey together memorable.

One Year Later

Life has only gotten better. Your business is booming, with offers of location expansion in cities all over the country. Even though it's a huge step, you have time to decide. You're happy where you are right now, overseeing the bakery and giving demonstrations on the new techniques you learned in Paris. You can't imagine yourself happier or more fortunate than you are right now.

Dave has never stopped being perfect, going so far as to hold your wedding and reception at the museum where you first met. All your loved ones gathered in a place that celebrates beauty and imagination.. you can't imagine a more perfect day. Molly and Alice are flower girls in their matching dresses, your sister and Ezra part of the bridal party.

The guests are enjoying themselves, chatting, dancing, eating. Your bakery provides the desserts while Valentina's caters. Somehow you and Dave still have the energy to dance all night.

As the evening winds down you both sneak away into the main room of the museum, hand in hand as you glide down the parquet floors, retracing the steps you took the day you came into each other's lives. Dave brings a bottle of champagne and two glasses as you seat yourselves on a soft upholstered bench across from a Francesco Hayez, studying the kissing lovers forever captured in oil on canvas.

You politely shake your head at Dave's offer of a drink. "You haven't had a drop all night, except for water. Are you feeling okay?" He asks with concern.

"I'm wonderful," you answer, giving him a soft kiss on the lips. "How could I be anything but wonderful now that you're mine?"

With a possessive growl he plants a kiss on your neck, kissing his way down your throat. "Is this new?" he asks, fingering the tiny ball pendant on a delicate silver chain around your neck.

"It's a gift from Mr. Gardellini," you mention the owner of Valentina's. "It's an angel caller necklace." You take the small round pendant and let it shake between your fingers, smiling at the tiny jingling sound it makes.

"It's lovely," he says, planting one more kiss on your collarbone. "Are you sure you don't want any champagne?"

"I can't."

"Why not?"

Barely able to suppress a grin, you rise from your seat, filled with too much nervous and excited energy to sit down. Dave eyes you warily, a chuckle rising to his lips. "Why so secretive, darling? Why can't you have a drink?"

And then it hits him, and you watch as realization comes over him, your own laughter bubbling in your throat. "I'm pregnant, Dave," you confirm in a whisper, a tear of joy coming to your eyes as he leaps from his seat to hoist you up before setting you down gently, kissing you.

"Really? We- we're gonna have a baby?" His hand goes straight to your belly, as if he can feel the tiny bud of life inside.

Nodding, you gently take his face between your hands, admiring the man you now call your husband. "We're having a baby, Dave.. from now on I want everything with you.. you're the love of my life."

"And you're mine," he says in return, giving you another kiss, never able to stop from wanting to be so close to you. "I love you so much.."

"And I love you.."

Music from the reception flows through the gallery, a slow love song from a bygone time. You and Dave hold onto each other, swaying softly to the music. There is nothing in the world that can keep you apart now.

You and Dave live happily ever after.

A/n: Thank you to everyone who patiently waited for this final chapter! I really wanted to give these two a perfect happy ending 💖 I started writing this while going through my own breakup, and it really helped move me along to write two lonely people who loved each other beyond all circumstances.

I have limited knowledge of court/trial proceedings, so any mistakes are my own. It's all just for entertainment 😊Also I wanted to have that closure with Javi. A good friend told me the angel caller necklace is a traditional Italian gift for someone who is pregnant. I didn't put the pregnancy in the warnings because I wanted the element of surprise, plus it comes along so late in the story I supposed it wouldn't be too much of an issue.

ALSO also.. I actually do think Dave looks a little like Paul Newman 😍 Thank you so much for reading and giving your support! I truly appreciate it.

dividers by @strangergraphics & @thecutestgrotto👑

taglist: @penascigarette @joelalorian @la-vie-est-une-fleur29

@darkheartgatita @speaktothehandpeasants @rav3n-pascal22

@vickie5446 @mrs-pedro-pascal @sunnytuliptime

@mysticsuitcasealmondwombat @thedilfdiaries @almostfoxglove

@604to647 @milla-frenchy @everybodylovedcontractors

@misstokyo7love @ppascalq

#pedro pascal #dave york #soft dave #dave york x freader #dave york smut #dave york fanfiction #dave york x reader #dave york x you #dave york fic #dave york series #au dave york #dave york au #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal cinematic universe #ppcu #ppcu fanfiction #ppcu fics #ppcu smut

27 notes · View notes

guelyury · 1 day ago

Text

The pics are hot, beautiful and amazing, but the article really maked my heart ached. This man is so beautiful, kind, soft and vulnerable, is like a gift, a light for this hard world. When someone asks me why I like Pedro Pascal so much, I'll put them to read this article.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #i just love him #pascalispunk #pedro pascal edit #ppascaledit #ppcu #pedro pascal pictures #pedro pascal photos #pedro pascal photoshoot #vanity fair

23 notes · View notes

myownwholewildworld · 2 months ago

Text

gif by @\watchbroken

“you ain’t falling asleep again” — an oldman!joel miller drabble

main masterlist | ao3 pairing: oldman!jackson!joel miller x f!reader summary: joel takes viagra and can't keep it down. he decides you can help. and the glasses stay on. a/n: please everyone say, THANK YOU SYD @syd-djarin !! i wouldn’t have written this if it wasn’t for you! tysm for allowing me to be shamelessly feral and for cheering me on, you know i love ya <3 anyways, hope you guys like this drabble, i am ovulating. heed the warnings and enjoyyyy xx tags/warnings: 18+, mdni. pwp. filthy smut. the old man’s glasses stay on. breeding kink. consensual somno. use of viagra. brief reference to a limp dick situation cause it’s hot. period sex and descriptions of period blood. joel goes down to town on you (f!oral), so vampire!joel if you wish cause he loves it. fingering. unprotected piv. creampie. age gap, no age gap, your choice. no description of reader other than afab. unedited, soz, i'm horny and i wanted this out asap. w/c: ~1.8k

Joel resented you. Really did.

You were sprawled across his bedsheets, legs splayed without a worry in the world. And here he was, on the rocking chair facing the bed in his Jackson home, watching you enjoy your beauty sleep, while his cock beat hard on his calloused hand.

He’d definitely overdone it with the viagra. At the tender age of sixty-one, Joel sometimes needed a bit of help to get him going. The first time he’d remained limp on your hand, despite your best efforts, had really stuck with him. Truth be told, that hadn’t stopped you from sucking him off, giggling and drooling all over his dick. But still, it embarrassed him. So, when Joel had the chance to trade for some pills, he did.

And now he had to deal with the consequences of his actions. He’d been railing you all night till the first lights glittered in his room—your beautiful body bouncing on his cock while the light reflected off the sweaty drops kissing your skin. But unlike him, you were spent and in much need of some rest.

Joel, on the other hand, had not been able to go back to sleep. As soon as he heard your soft, cute snores, his veiny cock had hardened again. Unconsciously his eyes darted to the sweet nook between your thighs. He really had the best view from here, eagerly watching his spent dripping down your slick slit.

The chair rocked under him, his big hand palming the growing erection, his eyes roving over every delicious curve of your body. And then something caught his eye—the cum leaking from your pussy was no longer white, but a shade of pink.

Joel sat on the verge of the rocking chair, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose to have a better look. No, his old man’s sight wasn’t betraying him—you really were bleeding.

His cock had a mind of its own, reacting to the call of nature in the most primal way. Joel tugged at his shaft, squeezing himself tight while a pearl of precum adorned his flushed cockhead. Your period couldn’t have come at a better time. Joel thoroughly enjoyed himself when that time of the month arrived—a reminder of how breedable you were.

Joel stood up, throbbing cock on hand and his cracking knees betraying his moves. He couldn’t just stay put any longer—surely, you’d understand that he was compelled to do this. That he just couldn’t stop himself, not when you were freely bleeding on his white bedsheets.

You stirred a bit when the wooden floor creaked beneath his weight, but your eyes stayed shut. Joel tiptoed to the foot of the bed and carefully sat on the mattress. Up close, he inspected your cunt with diligence. Your pussy was still gushing out his pinkish cum, but he needed to see red.

Bunching the bedsheets on his fist, Joel swiped your seam clean, his thumb stroking your entrance through the fabric to ensure no remnants were left behind. Once he was satisfied, he laid on his tummy and moved your legs, so the back of your knees rested on his shoulders. Now he could really see your slick cunt up close.

Joel spread your pussy lips, coaxing them apart to stretch your crying hole. A few seconds later, he was gifted with a glob of blood. He thumbed your clit softly, coaching your cunt to leak some more period blood for him, and you quietly squirmed. Another red bubble dripped down your fold, smearing your sweet puffy lips, staining his sheets. His eyes locked in on your beating bud, and he just knew what he had to do.

Hypnotised by the sensuality of it all, Joel leaned in and kissed your begging clit. The fingers that were stretching your lips open for him travelled down your glistening seam until they reached your bloodied opening. Without even doubting himself, Joel shoved his middle and ring ringers in your wet warmth, the squelching of your blood almost making him feel dizzy with lust.

Joel suckled on your clit, your thighs trembling against his ears, and then his mouth dropped. He removed his fingers from your tight hole and coated the skin of your inner thigh with your own blood while his tongue dived in.

Your pussy tasted divine. Metallic, fertile, slightly bitter. His favourite flavour, that was for sure. When Joel lapped your whole seam, from your seeping entrance, through your clit, to your mound, he felt your hand fisting his salt-and-pepper curls.

“Joel… What are you…” you trailed off sleepily, moaning as your back arched off the mattress.

Joel looked up at you, smirking like the devil he was.

“Just let me have this,” he almost implored, pecking the bloody fingerprints he’d left behind on your inner thigh.

“Are you… are you still hard?” you managed to croak out, eyes fluttering shut when Joel latched on your clit again.

“Mhm,” he mumbled, mouth full of you.

Joel alternated between fingering you and prodding your hole with the tip of his tongue, drunk with your iron-like tang, thumb pressing tight circles on your clit. And he truly didn’t stop until your legs were shaking uncontrollably around him and you were mewling your pleasure, your wails echoing in his bedroom.

With a bit more of encouragement, you finally came in his mouth. Joel didn’t hesitate to drink everything your cunt oozed out—the period blood mixing with your cream was his personal nectar. His favourite breakfast. He shamelessly licked your folds and hole clean, revelling in how your entrance quivered around the tip of his tongue when he poked at it.

Your mind was still hazy with the ghost memory of your wet dream, but Joel eating your bloody pussy out definitely had you delirious. This old man of yours knew no shame, no hard limits. And you loved him for it.

When Joel emerged from between your thighs, you gasped, and your pussy gushed. His beard was covered in your period blood, even his cheeks were smudged. And Joel just… looked so chuffed about it all, it made you smile back at him.

You glanced down at his lap when he knelt between your legs, his broad hands resting on your knees to part your thighs for him. His stiff cock greeted you, swaying and throbbing. He was about to fucking explode, so red and swollen, leaking precum everywhere—you truly feared for his wellbeing.

“Fuck, Joel…” You bit down your plump bottom lip, eyes focused on his dick. “How many pills did you take?”

“Two. I wasn’t sure if one was enough, needed to make sure I could fuck you all night long,” he admitted, tapping your clit a few times with his warm, tacky cockhead. “And then you fucking bail on me, falling asleep and leaving me hanging.”

Before you could defend yourself, Joel buried himself in you down to the fucking hilt in one smooth thrust. You braced yourself and grabbed at his forearms, back arched so much that your nipples were kissing his naked chest.

Without exchanging another word, Joel began railing you hard, his throbbing cock growing inside you, impossibly so. He filled your entire pussy, the tip of his dick kissing your cervix every time he hammered in. No thoughts formed in your brain, you could only moan and sob and scream his name so everyone in Jackson would know you were getting your guts fucked.

Joel imposed a punishing pace, anchoring his hands to the headboard while his hips slammed against yours, the clapping of skin on skin competing with your loud groans. His mushroom head dragged alongside your anterior wall every time he ploughed you, rubbing that precise spongey spot inside you that made your pussy hug him tighter.

You just managed to open your eyes and glance up at him. He was gorgeous, the most handsome man you’d ever had the pleasure to meet. And he was all yours.

With every plunge, his old man’s glasses slipped further down the bridge of his aquiline nose, until they caught on the tip of his nose. The glass was all foggy now, and you were almost sure Joel couldn’t see shit right now. The picture made you smirk, but his incessant shoves forced your mouth to shape a perfect O before you began moaning his full name again.

Joel was fucking you so hard into the mattress, the precarious balance of his glasses gave way, and the frames fell onto your chest. Without thinking, you snatched them to put them on back on his nose but then you thought better of it. Instead, you put them on and looked up at him with a sly grin—it was all blurry, but could still make out his face and feral eyes.

“Fucking beautiful,” he husked out.

You felt the pulse emitted by his girthy cock, and the threat of his orgasm called to yours. When the first ropes hit your cervix, you came with him, your pussy milking him dry of every single drop he fed you. Joel filled you up to the brim with his cum and not satisfied with it, he fucked his spent into you for a couple of minutes while your used cunt spasmed around him.

You were truly spent, laboriously breathing, your heart racing wild in your chest. Joel was heaving too, and his greying brows furrowed when his cock left your entrails.

You couldn’t help but look down—you had left pink creamy rings on his hard cock, a mixture of your juices, his cum and your period blood. And when you peeked over at your pussy, you sighed. Yes, your pussy was smeared red, your inner thighs too, and you were still bleeding onto his sheets.

You should have felt slightly embarrassed, but knowing how much Joel enjoyed you on your period, well... there was literally nothing to be shy about. As a matter of fact, you had been waiting for this time of the month to come, because you just knew that Joel would be feral about you.

Letting your head fall back for a breather, you felt Joel pet your overstimulated clit. You whimpered a little, your nerve endings flaring alive, almost painfully, and your brows bunching together in concentration.

You managed to open your eyes again, and then you realised. He was still hard. Very much so.

“You ain’t falling asleep again,” he groaned, pointing an accusatory bloody finger at you. “‘M not done with you yet, sweetheart.”

He was right. Joel didn’t let you.

4K notes · View notes

ohhoneypascal · 1 month ago

Text

“Say goodnight to uncle grumpy”

Brb while I’ll fucking cry

2K notes · View notes

mrsmandalorian · 4 months ago

Text

short n' sweet tour

--pedro pascal x singer!f!reader

summary: on the debut night of your arena tour, you pull out all the cheeky tricks to grab Pedro's attention while the crowd goes wild.-this fic features a tiny bit of 'Bed Chem" and the whole song of 'Juno" by Sabrina Carpenter !!

lyrical genius masterlist / main masterlist / wc:4.9K

warnings: 18+ mdni, reader is able-bodied, smut!!!, and fluff!, p in v, hard and quick FUCK, sexual TEASING, pet names, pillow humping, dry humping, wandering hands, makeout.

a/n: the next part is finally here! thank you for all the love on this series. hope you guys enjoy this part! pls leave some feedback and let me know what you guys might be interested in seeing in the future! much love, maddie <3

The electricity from the crowd vibrates backstage as you nervously wait for your cue to run onstage. All the hard work throughout your career has led to this moment—the first concert of your North American leg of the arena tour. It started in Staples Center in Los Angeles and concludes in Sweden next year.

The pre-show recording starts as your team quickly helps you with your earpiece and offers words of encouragement. Take a few deep breaths to calm your nerves as you hear the team start a countdown to your entrance over the earpiece.

“Three, two, one-go, go!” the stage manager says from behind you.

As the crowd roars, you dash onto the elaborate stage to begin the show with one of your many comedy bits, acting as if you are half-ready for the show to start, still in your sequined bath towel. You finally end up center stage to find your microphone and strip from your fake towel to a custom sparkling bodysuit with sheer sparkling tights, which causes an uproar from your fans.

Looking into the sea of people and phones, you give your best smile and take the moment as best as possible. The tune of your first song starts as your dancers slowly come out to join you on stage. It was showtime.

The crowd was whole of thousands of fans and familiar faces from family, friends, and celebrities. The cheers and joy in the room made all the struggles and hard work behind the music worthwhile. The impact your music has on people truly makes it all significant. You released your album, and it was a fantastic experience; it topped the charts for weeks and went viral on social media. It has undoubtedly been the best year of your life. Your career has already taken off, but the overwhelming success you've experienced in the last six months has been remarkable in more ways than one.

Your nerves disappear as you sing through the setlist and entertain your fans with your cheeky comedy bits and lovable personality. Your setlist consists of songs from your new album, older hits and gems, and karaoke from your favorite artists. Much like your most recent singles, your latest album is very sex-positive and cheeky, which sets your performance to the same tone. You were expecting a good reaction from the crowd, especially someone.

After a few songs and the addition of a sheer robe, it was finally time for one of your more sexual songs off your album, Bed Chem, which had a very sensual tone of dance to it. The lights dim as you get into position on a retro circular bed part of your elaborate makeshift apartment stage. You position yourself seductively in the middle as you stare up at the camera above you, which will project onto the large screens for the audience.

The song starts as you twirl your hair with a massive smirk. As you go through the first few lyrics on the set bed all by yourself, you can't help but imagine your bed chemistry with your lover, Pedro, which causes you to blush heavily.

Your imagination halts as your dancers join you on the bed to continue the song and choreography. The canopy opens to the audience, but you have been so caught up in your performance that you haven't taken a second to look at those chocolate eyes in the audience.

As you continue the song sensually and playfully, you are met at the edge of the bed with your dancers. Staring into the crowd to find his eyes, you meet them with a large smirk, holding them as you sing the following few lines.

“And I bet we'd both arrive at the same time (bed chem)

And I bet the thermostat's set at six-nine (bed chem)

And I bet it's even better than in my head (my, ooh).”

Your gazes hold until you give him a wink, which earns you a smirk and wink back from him. The tension between you and him burned hotter than the stage lights, igniting every inch of you—even in a room packed with thousands. You were so smitten with him as you continued your choreography with your female dancers.

During the song's outro, the ladies leave you to dance with the guys as you kneel on the bed. One of the male dancers joins you, holding a camcorder that projects onto the screens, and he joins you on the bed. Playfully actingout a scene with him until the canopy curtain closes and your reflections show you both undress and embrace onto the bed as the lights dim to darkness.

After the song ends, the crowd erupts, and you run backstage for your first outfit. As you change, one of your few mini videos and dancers entertain the audience. Touching up your makeup and dabbing the sweat from your brow, you quickly grab your phone to send Pedro a selfie of you winking and making a kissy face: “All for you, baby.”

The concert flows on—another outfit change, playful banter, and electrifying moments with the crowd—all in a desperate attempt to distract yourself from the thoughts of your irresistibly fine man. After an intensely emotional song, your setlist picks back up with cheerful, fun music that has gone viral for your whole tour. You walk yourself down in your long, custom, sexy dress down the catwalk of the stage as you talk with the crowd. You compliment and express your gratitude to your fans as you prepare for the next song. Before the song, your team and you have been doing a comedy bit before to give the spotlight to a fan.

You complimented the crowd on their fabulous outfits, which you knew took them a while to pick out or make. The best part of the bit happened once your dancers joined you just off the main stage onto the catwalk.

“Oh my, everyone, look! Who is this hottie in the front row right here?” You let out a shocked expression as you fan your face dramatically. The camera for the large screens directs the camera to the person you are referring to, who happens to be Lux Pascal. The crowd goes wild as Lux starts to blush. “ You are breathtaking! Whoever made you, God bless them. God bless their genetics.” You joke with her as you twist your hair in a fake, flirtatious way. “Um, what's your name, gorgeous?”

The camera pans back to Lux, where she plays her part and screams, “Lux!” to you. You both laugh together. “Such a beautiful name! Our names would be perfect for us to be in a relationship together. Oh my god! My clothes just fell off thinking about us. I will have to arrest you for being too hot!” You say as your long skirt falls to reveal your shorter skirt underneath. A brief glimpse of Pedro standing beside his sisters and your friends sends the arena into a deafening uproar, the sheer volume making you giggle into the microphone.

Your dancer hands you a pair of fluffy pink handcuffs, which you give to the security guard with a wink and blow a kiss to Lux before you start to get into position for the next song, which the intro has begun.

The dancer brought a chair for you to sit in between them to start the song. They all still wave and send Lux flirtatious signals as part of the bit. The music begins, which causes you to smirk because of the context.

“Don't have to tell your hot ass a thing

Oh yeah, you just get it (get it)

Whole package, babe, I like the way You don'tt

God bless your dad's genetics, mm, uh”

You promise yourself just one glance. Flashing him your brightest grin, your eyes meet him—and the instant connection sends a deep blush rushing to your cheeks. It remains on your face throughout the song as you continue to sing.

“You make me wanna make you fall in love

Oh, late at night, I'm thinking 'bout you, ah-ah

Wanna try out my fuzzy pink handcuffs?

Oh, I hear you knockin', baby, come on up”

“I know you want my touch for life

If you love me right, then who knows?

I might let you make me Juno

You know I just might

Let you lock me down tonight

One of me is cute, but two though?

Give it to me, baby

You make me wanna make you fall in love (Oh)”

Your blush never fades as you pour yourself into the sultry song about your lover, every lyric a teasing confession. Your movements are sensual and playful, and the choreography pulls the audience deeper into your world. They sing along to every word, their energy electrifying, reminding you that moments like this make it all worth it.

“I showed my friends, then we high-fived (Ah-ah)

Sorry if you feel objеctified (Ah-ah)

Can't help myself; hormonеs are high

Give me more than just some butterflies”

You quickly make your way down the catwalk as you sing and dance, smiling at the sea of people around. You get right to the tip of the heart at the end of the stage and give your cheekiest smile.

“You make me wanna make you fall in love

Oh, late at night, I'm thinking 'bout you, ah-ah

Wanna try out some freaky positions?

Have you ever tried this one?”

As the lyrics leave your lips, you drop to your hands and knees at the center of the heart-shaped stage, rocking your hips in a slow, sensual tease. With a playful bite of your lip and a cheeky wink to the crowd, the message is crystal clear. The arena erupts at the bold display, but you’re already back on your feet, slipping seamlessly into the next move. The cameras cut to Pedro—his head shaking, a knowing smile on his lips as he chuckles with your friends. The stage slowly rises above the crowd as you continue to sing.

I know you want my touch for life

If you love me right, then who knows?

I might let you make me Juno

You know I just might

Let you lock me down tonight

One of me is cute, but two though?

Give it to me, baby

You make me wanna make you fall in love

“Alright, LA, sing this next part with me at the top of your lungs!” you exclaimed to the crowd, shimmering in the air. “Let me hear every single one of you!” You seamlessly kneel and place your hand on your chest as you sing the bridge.

“Adore me

Hold me and explore me

Mark your territory (Ah-ah)

Tell me I'm the only, only, only, only one (Ah-ah)

Adore me

Hold me and explore me (Ah-ah)

I'm so fuckin' horny

Tell me I'm the only, only, only, only one”

Behind you, the screen flashes the song’s lyrics in bold, glowing letters, each word pulsing with the rhythm. As you reach the bridge, your mind drifts—those lyrics, once just melodies, now feel like a private confession, each line a tantalizing reminder of your lover. The thought sends a shiver down your spine, but you keep singing, letting the emotion seep into every note.

“(Oh, I) I know you want my touch for life

If you love me right, then who knows?

I might let you make me Juno

You know I just might (Might)

Let you lock me down tonight

One of me is cute, but two though?

Give it to me, baby

You make me wanna make you fall in love”

The concert rolls on for a few more songs, each moment more electrifying than the last. A hint of sadness creeps in as the night nears its end, but the thrill of an unforgettable show lingers. Still, excitement bubbles within you—soon, you’ll be backstage, ready to celebrate a night that was nothing short of magic.

“LA, this has been the most unforgettable night of my life. My first big tour, my first night, and I got to spend it with you. I can’t even put into words how much this means to me—how much you mean to me. Thank you for believing in me, for screaming with me, and for making this dream a reality. I’ll never forget this night… unless the adrenaline wears off and I completely black out. But seriously, I love you all more than words can say. Thank you for everything!” You express your gratitude, trying not to get too emotional about the overwhelming feeling. You gently wipe your few happy tears from your face.

You blow kisses and wave as you gracefully go backstage with your dancers. Your team is waiting for you to help take your earpiece out and celebrate with you. They all give you compliments and congratulations. If there is any criticism, they will let you know tomorrow.

After returning to the greenroom, the energy from the performance is still buzzing through your veins, and your friends and family pour in from the audience. Laughter and praise fill the space as they hug you and gush about their favorite moments of the show. Their words warm your heart, but before you can respond to them all, a familiar touch sends a shiver up your spine.

Strong, warm hands settle on your hips, grounding you instantly. You turn swiftly, already knowing who they belong to, and are met with Pedro’s soft, adoring smile. Before you can say a word, he pulls you into his embrace, his scent wrapping around you like a comforting haze.

“You were incredible, baby,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with pride. His hands trail down the fabric of your outfit, savoring the texture beneath his fingertips. The simple gesture sends a wave of goosebumps across your skin, and you can’t help but smile, leaning into his touch.

Still basking in the moment, you slowly pull away just enough to meet his gaze, your voice warm with gratitude. “Thank you,” you whisper, the connection lingering between you.

With his presence still humming through you, you turn back to your loved ones, laughter, and conversation effortlessly filling the space once more.

As the last of your friends and family trickle out of the arena, heading off to prepare for a celebratory late dinner, you stay behind in your dressing room, savoring the moment. Pedro remains by your side, a comforting presence as you decompress from the night. The air between you crackles with unspoken energy, and it’s clear you both can’t keep your hands to yourselves.

“You were quite the tease during your set, angel,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against yours in a sweet, lingering kiss. His warmth envelops you as you sit on the small couch, his hands exploring your body with a playful familiarity. You giggle at his words, nodding in agreement, the tension between you both palpable.

“You knew exactly what you were doing to me,” he adds, his fingers dancing along your waist, drawing you closer. There’s a mischievous glint in his eyes that sends your heart racing. “I’d love to see your stage set.”

A rush of excitement floods through you, your smile growing as you meet his gaze. “I’d love to show you,” you say, your voice soft but laced with promise. Taking his hand, you lead him toward the stage door, the lingering buzz of the night still thick in the air. A few crew members move about, cleaning up and prepping for tomorrow’s show, but your focus is entirely on him.

Waltzing onto the stage, you gesture to the elaborate setup, walking him through the details as you chat about your performance. His hands never leave you, fingers tracing idle patterns against your skin as he listens intently, slipping in jokes that send both of you into laughter.

But as you near the infamous round-shaped bed at center stage, warmth floods your cheeks. His smirk deepens. “You looked blissful the whole night,” he murmurs, his voice a low hum against your skin. “But there were two moments you looked absolutely delectable.”

His lips brush your neck, trailing soft, lingering kisses that send a shiver through you. A nervous giggle escapes as you instinctively tilt your head, granting him more access. Slowly, he eases you back onto the bed, his touch growing more assured, guiding you into surrender.

That’s what you do—surrender to him. It had been weeks since your schedules aligned, since you’d had a moment like this, and you weren’t about to waste it. You let him take control, guiding your body with ease, his fingers threading through your hair as his lips capture yours in a slow, lingering kiss.

A soft whimper escapes as he presses closer, his hands trailing down the front of your body, leaving a path of heat in their wake. “You were such a tease tonight, baby,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice low and thick with amusement. His grip tightens around your thigh as you instinctively wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer. The warmth of his body and how he moves against you sends a shiver through you, the anticipation crackling between you like electricity. “I think you might have been trying to get a reaction out of me.”

His hips dip into yours as you feel his warmth glide against yours, which causes you to squeeze your legs around me. His hands wander down to your bum, and he holds you close for a moment. With one swift movement, he flips you and positions you on top of him. Gripping your ass before giving a quick slap against your behind, which causes you to let out a yelp. You bury your head into his chest because you are embarrassed by being too loud and getting caught.

He gives you two more slaps that make you whimper against him and cause him to snicker. “Two can play the game, love,” he says as he grips your hips and pushes you against his clothed member. You buck your hips to create some friction between the two of you, which makes you let out the slightest whimper in need. His hand remains on your hips as you throw your head back as you let yourself hump him against him. He enables you to ride him as his hands roam towards your breast and knead them roughly, which causes a noise of frustration to erupt out of you. The slickness in your panties makes your determined hips work furiously against his hardened member.

You were so caught up in the moment that you didn’t notice Pedro’s smirk, the glint of mischief in his eyes. He had a plan—one carefully crafted to make you pay for every playful tease, every bold move you pulled on stage.

Your breath hitched as his hands moved with deliberate slowness, his touch both gentle and commanding. “You had your fun tonight,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over your skin. “Now it’s my turn.”

With a wicked smirk, he tightens his grip for just a moment before effortlessly sliding you off his lap, the loss of his warmth sending a desperate ache through your body. His hands linger—slow, deliberate—tracing over your skin as if memorizing every inch of you. Then, just as your breath catches in anticipation, he leans in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to the top of your head. It’s tender, almost reverent, yet it only leaves you craving more.

As he rises, his gaze locks onto yours, dark with satisfaction, knowing exactly what he’s done. Without another word, he strides off the stage, vanishing into the shadows, leaving you there—breathless, flushed, and utterly undone, your body still humming with the need only he can satisfy.

For a moment, you lay there, catching your breath, your mind racing. You wouldn’t let this old dog win—not yet. Your teasing wasn’t over. But damn him, he’d left behind something deeper than just a game. The ache he ignited wasn’t one to be toyed with; it demanded more than just playful taunts. It needed to be answered.

Your body still burned from his touch, every nerve alive with the memory of him. You could still feel the ghost of his lips on your skin, the soft press of his kiss on the top of your head—a contradiction of tenderness and control that made your pulse quicken.

No, this wasn’t over. But first, you had to deal with the fire he’d so effortlessly set ablaze.

And that’s just what you start to do.

Slowly, you push yourself up, your body still humming with the aftershocks of his touch. A quick glance around confirms what you already suspected—the crew has cleared out for the evening, leaving the stage bathed in dim, moody light, the perfect setting for what you’re about to do.

A wicked smirk tugs at your lips as anticipation curls low in your stomach. If he thought he could leave you like this, aching and undone, he had another thing coming. This wasn’t just about need; it was about control and claiming the upper hand. And what better way than here, on his stage, where every move was meant to captivate an audience?

Especially when that audience was him.

With a slow, deliberate breath, you step back onto the fluffy pillow-covered bed, already imagining the look on his face when he realizes just what kind of show you’re about to put on.

You glance across the bed, your eyes drifting over the pleasurable options laid before you, each a temptation, a promise. The sight alone tugs you back to past nights, to the moments when distance kept you apart but never truly separated. You’ve performed this wicked little act for him before, in the privacy of your own home, a sinful display meant only for his eyes—his voice in your ear, coaxing, commanding, praising.

But tonight, it’s different. Tonight, this is your stage. Your domain.

The empty venue hums with silence, the stage lights casting a soft glow, illuminating the space where you captivate crowds with every note you sing. But now, there’s only one audience member you care about. He thinks he’s won, leaving you breathless and aching, but you smirk to yourself—this game is far from over.

Your hands find the subject to your pleasure, which happens to be the firmest and fluffiest pillow on the bed. You mount the pillow as you had just previously mounted your lover. Your determined hips start at work again, creating your own friction against the softness of the pillow against your soaked panties. You couldn't hold back your soft moans as you rode in a familiar rhythm.

Caught up in your own pleasure, you barely registered the weight of unseen eyes on you—though deep down, you felt it. That familiar heat, that electric prickle along your skin, warning you that you weren’t alone. But it didn’t matter. Not anymore.

The game, the teasing, the push and pull—it all faded into something raw, something uncontrollable. You weren’t performing anymore. This wasn’t for show. This was need, pure and aching, a fire burning too hot to be tamed.

Your breath hitched, your body surrendering to the moment, lost in sensation, in the hunger that refused to be ignored. And somewhere, hidden in the shadows, he watched. Silent. Waiting. Taking in every movement, every sound, every unguarded moment of you unraveling before him.

Before you knew it, rough, familiar hands were on you—firm, possessive, claiming what had always been his. A sharp gasp slipped from your lips, quickly followed by a frustrated groan. You had been so close, teetering on the edge, almost lost in your own pleasure, only to have him interrupt just as you were about to tip over.

But even through the frustration, you didn’t mind. Not one bit.

His touch and presence were precisely what you had been craving all along. The heat of his body pressed against yours, the unmistakable dominance in his grip, the way his breath fanned hot against your skin. He had been watching, waiting, letting you think you had control. But now, he was done watching.

His lips ghosted along the shell of your ear, his voice dark and dripping with satisfaction. "Did you really think I'd let you finish without me?" His fingers tightened, his body caging you in, making it clear—you weren’t going anywhere. "You put on quite the show, sweetheart… but now, it’s my turn."

Hands worked quickly, rough and unyielding, as he maneuvered you with ease—his strength undeniable, his intent unmistakable. Before you could catch your breath, you found yourself in the position you had so proudly displayed in your performance tonight, the one meant to tease, torment, and tempt him beyond reason.

A dark chuckle rumbled in his chest, his grip firm as he held you there, ensuring you understood exactly what would happen. His lips barely grazed your skin, his breath hot and taunting. "You wanted my attention, didn’t you?" he murmured, his voice laced with hunger. "Now you have it. Let’s see if you can handle what you’ve been begging for."

His boldness caught you off guard as you felt your slickness become bare, and the sound of pants unzipping rang through your ears. Before you knew it, his thickness probed at your walls, determined to finish what you both had started. His fingers make quick work to find your bundle of nerves, forcing you to moan deeply into the pillows.

His hands gripped your hips firmly, but his eyes flickered to the pillow beneath you—still damp with your wetness, carrying the intoxicating scent of your need. The sight of it, the evidence of just how lost you had been in your own pleasure before he caught you, sent a dark, satisfied smirk across his lips.

"Look at this," he murmured, his voice thick with desire as his fingers ghosted over the damp fabric. "You were really putting on a show for me, weren’t you?"

He leaned in, his breath hot against your skin as his hands worked quickly, positioning you exactly how you had so boldly displayed yourself during your performance. "But now that I’m here," he continued, voice dripping with wicked promise, "let’s see if you can handle what you were begging for."

His promise was quickly answered as his hips brutally thrust into trying to relieve his ache of desire as well as yours. All at once, his thrust and fingers worked you up to mold effortlessly beneath his movements. You were moaning and gripping onto the fuzzy bed before you knew it. You heard his groans as you both were about to finish in sync. There was no more game at play, so you relinquished it and rode out your high together as he moaned heavily into your ear. His heavy moans are replaced with deep gasps from exhaustion, which match yours, and an adoring smirk on both of your faces.

"I guess this means the war is over," you murmur, your breath still uneven as he eases away gently, cleaning himself off with slow, deliberate movements.

He exhales a quiet chuckle, his smirk softened but still present. "Maybe," he muses, casting you a knowing glance. "Or maybe we just found a new way to fight."

His fingers trail over your skin one last time before he leans back, watching you with the kind of satisfaction that promises—truce or not—this was far from the end.

In quick motion, he finds your discarded panties, using them to clean the two of you the best for the situation. He leaves kisses down your body as he does so, being the gentle lover again. He might fuck hard, but he is always a gentleman in the end (literally).

The two of you return to your dressing room, the air still warm with the remnants of what just transpired. There’s a quiet intimacy in how he lingers, watching as you slip into something more comfortable, his hands occasionally brushing against you in small, affectionate gestures.

You take a moment to clean up, smooth your hair, and touch up your makeup while he stands behind you, his presence steady and familiar. Every now and then, he leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder, a silent reminder of just how deeply he adores you.

Falling into your usual rhythm, the playful teasing and gentle touches return, the two of you wrapped in the sweet comfort of each other. As he helps you fasten a necklace, his fingers grazing your skin, he meets your gaze in the mirror, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Ready, beautiful?"

With one last glance at yourselves, you take his hand, feeling nothing but warmth as you step out together, heading off to meet your loved ones for a late dinner—still lost in the afterglow of the night and of each other.

As you settle into the car, the city lights flickering past the windows, he suddenly turns to you with a smirk, his tone light and teasing. “I do have a question: why are all the songs you write about me pertaining to sex?”

You roll your eyes, laughing as you shove his arm playfully. "Oh, shut up and drive."

His chuckle fills the space between you, the perfect sound to end a perfect night.

#pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal imagine #pedro pascal fanfiction #ppcu #mrsmandalorian #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal smut #pedro x you #pedrohub #pedro pascal fandom #pedro x reader

2K notes · View notes

cuntyhunty22 · 28 days ago

Text

What a time to be alive

#pedro pascal #lmfao me #what a time #pedro pascal fandom #ppcu #daddy pedro #zaddy pedro

668 notes · View notes

joelsbloodyhands · 9 months ago

Text

Mine

Din Djarin x Reader, The Mandalorian x Reader

Summary: Your employer is pissed when you come back from getting information about a bounty with a bruised hand mark around your neck.

A/N: I kinda just wrote this one because I had a vague idea and ran with it. I think everyone is going to learn very quickly in my writing that clearly jealous/overprotective Din is my fave version of him 🙈

Warnings: reader gets choked and not in the nice way (only talks about it), overprotective Din, Din is your employer but clearly wants to be more, death and m!rder (all in the name of love) 🤗, mentions of blood and bodily harm, mentions of slave traders, fluff with a little bit of spice✨, soft!Din but also a little bit reckless!Din 👀 smut references but not written too explicitly but still MINORS DNI, business associates to lovers arc? 😅 not set at any particular point during the series.

READER does not have a specified gender, they/them pronouns used. Reader does not have a visible disability.

You’d been gone too long and Din was getting anxious.

This hadn’t been his original plan.

The contact for information regarding the bounty had unfortunately been highlighted as a previous foe of his. He’d busted them prior when their bounty puck had fell in his lap over a cycle ago.

Trust Karga to let the man redeem himself by providing intel on high-level bounties with the incentive of remaining out of the hands of the Rebellion that for some reason unbeknownst to Din, wanted his head on a stick.

Why had Din let you go and barter for the information again?

“He won’t suspect me to be a threat.”

Oh right, yeah. That’s what you said.

Except Din was probably worrying about the wrong thing because the biggest threat would be the ex-criminal you were meeting with at Mos Espa Cantina.

“Go say hi to Boba for me. Get the boy fed and I’ll be back soon.”

Din was losing his edge.

On what kriffin planet did he give in to such a request?

You were in danger and he knew it.

He knew it and he still sat in the markets with Grogu, twirling wupiupi coins in his fingers for the past half hour while his son slurped another bowl of pog soup.

Why?

Well, that was easy.

Since the past year you had been travelling with him, Din had grown to have affections for you.

To start he kept you at arms length.

Brief answers to your curious questions turned into nightly talks between your bunks. Subtle touches to guide you through busy and sometimes treacherous places turned into lingering holds in his grasp, fear of losing you to the crowds. He found himself watching you far longer than he ever had before and during times when he didn’t necessarily need to. The sound of you using the fresher while he tucked in his little green son had his heart pounding and a certain area of his armor feeling a little bit too uncomfortable.

He grew more and more protective the further you strayed without him.

He no longer wished for you to venture into dens alone to ask for information on his behalf but he couldn’t deny that you were good at it.

Better than him.

You were calm and collected.

You had a level head.

Something that he could very easily lose control over should Grogu and yourself be threatened by a contact. Though it was the one thing you had learned you could assert yourself over since Din’s change of heart.

You had a job that needed to be done and you were the best person for it.

So Din caved far quicker than he normally would with allowing you to go the cantinas and talk about bounties, pay and information. It sped up the process for Din to track them and also meant he didn’t have to deal with the unwanted chit chat that came with meeting up with Karga.

Something you enjoyed. Something that had Din’s palms itching whenever Karga took your hand to help you stand from the booth, Din’s clenched fist aching to wipe the smug look of his face when he turned back in his direction.

“I like her, Mando. She’s good at getting what she wants.”

He knew you were.

Din wasn’t sure if he was included on the list of things you wanted but you sure as hell were on his.

There was times he had a inkling.

Especially when he was feeding the kid and he caught you looking away when his eyes found you scraping away at your lunch.

Times when you would grab his hand without hesitation and pull him through midnight markets towards the sights of fireworks. Din’s heart warming at the wide smile plastered across your face, the powdery shades of red, blue and green lighting up in your eyes from the sky.

Damn, he was down bad and he had no idea what to do about it.

Technically, he was your employer.

Juggling Grogu and his job was a difficulty. Most of the time he was happy to venture out with Grogu in his carrier or pod but his bounties got, let’s say, brave in their efforts to deter him. Going so far as to aim shots towards the child. They learned his weakness and Din hated it.

So with much reluctance to start, he asked Peli if she would be interested in babysitting him for a price but of course she refused; even with the money on the table.

“Not a chance but I know just the person for the job.”

He had slid the money off the table and walked back to the ship without another word until she scrambled after him.

“Hey, hey, hey! Just hear me out, okay?” Din had sighed, turning back to her from the top of the ramp while she stood hands on her hips and a smile growing. “There’s this kid that needs a job. Call ‘em a distant relative, if you will. They’re desperate. Need money, board, food, water and they’ll make sure your little boy is taken good care of. I swear!”

“Have they taken care of children before?” Din asked inquisitively but also with a half mind to ignore Peli completely and close the ramp in response to her proposal.

“Yeah! Loads of times! They’re a professional!”

Din doubted that very much. He knew Peli’s tactics for selling him an offer and he couldn’t deny that she was good at it.

Fine, he’ll bite. Again.

“Call them.”

He just remembers Peli’s grin, your soft voice on the end of a comlink and then a speeder sounding just outside.

She had presented you to him like a rare gift and he was less than happy to receive you at the time but more than a few rotations later, you had thrown yourself in front of a bounty that had tried to commandeer his ship, their blaster aimed for Grogu in his bunk, taking a graze to the side before Din shot him dead.

You were willing to die to protect his son.

That was more than he could’ve ever asked for.

Later when Din was back at the Crest, you returned.

He had spent the past hours pacing up and down the ramp like a mad man.

Originally, he had planned to detour from the markets with Grogu over to the cantina but you had used your comlink to tell him you were already near the ship.

That was interesting because Din got back to the ship and you weren’t even here.

Which begs the question, why did you lie that you were already nearby?

Maybe he was being paranoid. His fists clenching and unclenching repeatedly, stressing about your whereabouts and the obvious reason as to why he was so stressed to begin with.

So when he’d heard your footsteps up the ramp, your voice calling for Grogu, you were both surprised to see the other staring back.

“Where have you been?” Din questioned gently but you sensed an underlining annoyance to his tone.

“I detoured, sorry,” you sheepishly smiled, holding up a bag of frog meat. “I saw a vendor selling this and I knew Grogu would be happy about it. Not to mention,” you brush past him, eyes focused solely on the sleeping child snuggling into his hammock on Din’s bunk, “it would be nice to see him not eat a whole frog for once.”

You laugh and it eases Din.

Of course he was just being paranoid.

“And the contact?” He says and you remain with your back to him, reaching your hand in carefully to tug the blanket over Grogu’s body. “He give us what we need?”

“He did,” you respond and Din satisfied, presses the button to bring up the ramp and close the hatch. The sound of it whirring so loud, in need of some oiling so much so that you had probably thought he missed your quiet words.

“What was that?” His helmet turns your way when the hatch closes with a loud creak.

“I said, somewhat.”

Okay, maybe he wasn’t being paranoid after all.

Din feels his nerves wash over him, noticing how you’re not even turning around as you address him. He takes you in. You don’t seem discomforted, angry or emotional. You’re incredibly calm.

Though that was worrying.

Normally, you came back from having debriefs with the informants with a story to tell.

“It was quite scary actually. They had this wookie with them but then you’ll never believe this guy! Stood there, blaster in hand, immense glare in his face, goes and shoves a fist in his satchel, I’m ready to throw hands and I shit you not, Din…wookie pulls out a cookie and starts crunching away at it!”

“Have you ever met a Gungan, Din? I think they’re my favourite people I’ve ever met. I mean they were all like, yousa follow us now, okeyday? Seriously! Oh gooberfish! I love them!”

“What do you mean by somewhat?”

You sigh.

This wasn’t good.

“I’m sorry, Din. They gave us the last location. I think that’s the most important thing.”

“What about if they’re solo or run with a crew? We need to know what we’re walking into, otherwise we could get bombarded the moment we land.”

This wasn’t a simple bounty. This guy was one of the worst out there.

A slave trader.

It angered Din to even think about it.

“Something happened,” he doesn’t let you tip-toe around the subject. “What are you not telling me?”

You fall silent and that’s enough for him.

Something did happen and what’s worse, you don’t want to tell him.

He moves towards you and you turn on your heel, ready to protest. Din had only meant to just embrace your shoulder gently to ease you into a conversation he thought you needed to have but the slightest wince had him drawing back almost immediately.

With his steps halted in front of you, the air cold, the crest filled with silence, Din’s visor drops instinctively to your neck.

Was it getting cool? Sure, when it was getting late. Though right now, it was still early afternoon and you never wore a scarf in Mos Espa outside the settlement and in the dunes.

“Did he touch you?”

Din has to bite back the growl threatening to crackle through his modulator.

Your head drops, eyes on the floor and the look of regret on your features make Din pray to the Maker that he’ll kill the man just for the expression on your face.

Then you unravel the scarf and Din wastes no time.

His hand had pulled your collar back gently, his shoulders stiffening at the purpled marks there.

You grimaced before trying for a smile but he sees the way your eyes plead with his, “Before you ask, it looks worse than it feels. I’m fine, Din. Let’s just go.”

He remembers you calling his name after that.

Only once because you knew as you watched him brush past you, grabbing two vibroblades from his armoury and charging down the steps towards the town, that there was nothing you could say to stop him.

And you were right because less than five minutes later, Din’s blades were impaled on the informants hands, stapling him indefinitely to the table at the cantina while onlookers ran completely, hid or dropped their heads from his view.

Then his gloved hands were on his throat, squeezing the life out of him.

An eye for an eye.

You hadn’t explained why the man had strangled you and it was pointless anyway.

He had no right to touch you.

To hell with Karga.

He’d lose an informant but that informant chose to fuck with what was his and that was worth more than any information.

When Din felt the life leave him, he dropped a number of credits to the table, looked up at the barman and walked away. His last words being, “you can keep those,” shrugging his shoulder towards the blades on the way out.

Now back at the ship, you sit rigidly on the bunk while Din gently swipes a lotion of bacta over your wound with a cotton wipe.

“I shouldn’t have let you go.”

Your eyes flicker to his visor and you know he’s evading your gaze.

You sigh and for a moment, he think you’re not going to reply until your hands gently take his, stopping him from tending to you.

He lifts his visor then, meeting your concerned eyes, your fingers intertwined with his on your lap.

“I can handle myself. You know that, right?”

Oh. So that’s what this was?

You were worried he thought you incompetent to end up in this circumstance?

Of course you would think that. He’s your employer. You only want to deliver good work for him.

That’s not all this is anymore though and Din can’t pretend and let you go on feeling like a failure especially with the tears dancing on your waterlines.

“You are very capable, mesh’la but-“ Din sighs.

How can he even begin to explain to you that he’s more angry at himself for not protecting you like he’s supposed to?

Kriff, you’re not even a bounty hunter. Trained to use a blaster as a novice, he noticed how you flinched whenever you’ve had to pull the trigger on his behalf. You’re at your calmest when you’re rocking the small boy before bed, singing lullabies to him in a hushed tone probably so Din couldn’t hear. You had no idea that he stood just above the ladder to the cockpit and listened.

You were ethereal and he couldn’t get enough of you.

That’s why it made his hands shake to even think that anyone would harm you.

He’s so caught up in his own thoughts, he misses the way your eyes widen at the term of endearment he let slip and the quick gesture as you shake yourself from how affected you are by it.

“I just…” you break through his racing thoughts, his eyes latching onto your dipped chin, eyes shadowed in the corner of the docking port, just outside his bunk. You look solemn but rather than feel dread, Din’s heart stills when he notices the flush of pink across your features.

If he didn’t know any better, he’d say you were nervous.

“I just want to be able to do more for you.”

The words play on a loop, almost like they’re colliding against the inside of Din’s helmet, repeatedly soaring through his ears again and again.

“I want to be more useful for you. Ya know?”

Useful? You think you’re not already useful?

“Sometimes I just feel like I have more to offer. I know you brought me in to be a babysitter but I can be more than that. For you.”

Was the carbonite freezing system failing or was it getting hotter in the crest?

Din felt like he needed to tug the shroud off from around his neck. The air was suffocating.

“Please say something?” Your small voice says quietly.

“You are more to me than you will ever understand, cya’rika.”

Your eyes meet his then.

Well, his visor at least and Din curses his creed for having him hide his face at a time when he wants- no needs you to see how much he means what he says.

You’re silent but the increasing rouge of your cheeks is enough to see that you understand him and that perhaps there was some truth in his suspicions.

You felt for him just as much as he felt for you.

“Din…”

And just like that, his eyes roll back momentarily hearing his name leave your tongue like a pleading prayer.

He couldn’t pretend like you weren’t affecting him too.

He needed you to know.

“Get in the bunk, ner kar’ta.”

Your body stills a moment in surprise and you don’t move.

Maybe he misjudged or maybe he’s being too forward but then you stand and without taking your eyes away from him, you seat yourself on the side of his bunk.

Waiting for him.

Waiting for further instruction just like you’ve been doing ever since you walked onto his ship.

One thing he realised he misjudged.

All those times you obeyed every command, it was never out of the need for his money.

You never questioned him, never refused an order but with Din and the matter of Grogu’s safety, it was never a request and that’s all it was to start.

It was just a matter of his sons safety until he realised he loved you too.

Din stands and steps in front of you, you look up at him as he tugs the shroud from around his neck loose.

He notices how your eyes drop to his waist, evading the reveal of his tanned skin while you’re positioned below him. He wraps the material a couple of times before placing the fabric over your eyes.

You don’t move.

You don’t flinch.

You just allow him to remove one of your senses, leaving nothing but darkness over your sight. His heart aches at the trust you have in him, allowing him to render you vulnerable before him.

He ties it behind your head, making sure it’s not too tight as to hurt you.

He’s not the same type of man as the monster from earlier today.

His fingers itch at the memory and he shrugs his gloves off, setting his bare fingers against the cold metal of his helmet.

You await patiently and he watches as you jerk your head slightly at the familiar sound of his helmet releasing.

The sound you’ve only ever heard from a nearby room, hiding away from him when you brought him supper.

You await patiently while Din removes each piece of armor, setting it aside.

Then there’s just silence.

Until you hear his knees hit the ground in front of you and a warm breath hits your neck, a shudder running up your spine.

“Is it okay if I show you something?”

His whispers hit your ear drum in the most delightful way.

You nod dreamily.

Then you feel rough, warm lips graze your neck.

If heaven was travelling at light-speed through space, it was right here and now with Din’s lips travelling along your jawline, mapping out the path to seal against your lips. He tugs gently, coaxing you out of the shy shell you had created when you realised the butterflies he made you feel when you first met had more to do with how attracted you were to him than to how intimidating most people found him.

Every step he took on each planet you travelled, Din carried a powerful aura that most people cowered away from but it only drew you to him more.

You knew Din was strong.

You knew not many could beat him in a fight, yourself included but that was the whole point.

Din would never abuse his strength over you.

Ever.

Though, you wish he would, in special circumstances.

Like right now.

“How do you feel, cya’re?” Din inquires breathlessly, lips pressing soft kisses down your throat while you bite back the urge to be vocal.

“I wish we’d done this sooner,” you say uneasily, your hands gripping the bunk below you.

Din’s chuckle hits your ear, reverberating against your ear drum exquistively.

“Din?” He hears your voice rattle with every nestle of his lips stroking over your skin.

“Yes, mesh’la?” He raises his head, lips brushing the underside of your jaw, watching your lips turn up into a small smirk. Though you couldn’t see his expression returning yours, his adoring smile awaited your next words patiently.

“You killed him, didn’t you?”

You feel a thumb smooth over your bottom lip.

“He deserved it,” you shake your head slightly, fighting away an amused smile on your lips that he quickly wipes away, replacing with an expression of longing when his lips meet your ear.

“You’re mine.”

#din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #Mando x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x you #Mando x you #ppcu fanfiction #mandalorian imagine #pedro pascal cinematic universe #ppcu #joelsbloodyhands writes #GROGU IS NOT IN THE BUNK!!!😩😭#<I feel like this needs to be said #because I know someone guna read it be like 👀 um where is baby pls #is he looking over the hammock like O_O #NOOOOOOOOOOOO #maybe uncle boba has him idk 😒#it’s fictional metal man’s job to father child not mine #😭😭😭

1K notes · View notes

iamasaddie · 2 months ago

Text

"Left or right?"

#pedro pascal #iamasaddie gif #ppedit #pedro pascal gif #clint flood #clint freaky tales #freaky tales #pedro pascal characters #ppcu #freaky tales spoilers

572 notes · View notes

arcane-fox · 7 months ago

Text

Gladiator II: Electric Boogaloo

💜 Please use and enjoy my gifs as you please! Reblogs appreciated💜 Gif requests are open!

G I F N O T I F I C A T I O N S | G I P H Y

#pedro pascal #paul mescal #gladiator II #gladiator 2 #general marcus acacius #THE general of Rome #pedro pascal gifs #arcanefox gifs #pedro pascal fandom #ppcu #ppcu gifs #gladiator gifs

817 notes · View notes

guelyury · 4 months ago

Text

Pedro Pascal about contractors

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pascalispunk #pedro pascal edit #ppascaledit #ppcu #gifs #gifset #pedro pascal gifs

499 notes · View notes

myownwholewildworld · 2 months ago

Text

gif by @\pedrospascaled

“for emergencies only” — an oldman!joel miller drabble

main masterlist | ao3 pairing: oldman!jackson!joel miller x f!reader summary: joel has a lil' accident, but you know exactly how to help. or joel cums in his boxers a bit too early and you feed him a blue pill for endurance. a/n: uhm... yeah, hi? i promise you this fic wrote itself, i almost had nothing to do with it. i am so fucking feral over this man, can't flush him out of my system. lord have mercy... 🙇‍♀️ tags/warnings: 18+, mdni. pwp. filthy smut. joel cums in his boxers like the old man he is. mortified!joel but you make him feel good i promise <3 use of viagra. kneading the bulge, kissing the bulge, worshipping the bulge. pussy eating. face/nose riding. squirting. fingering. your slick is his hair gel (scent marking? idk). blowjob. you go cowgirl on him because the poor man can't do extraneous exercise, protect his bones. unprotected piv. creampie. age gap, no age gap, your choice. petnames. no description of reader other than afab. w/c: ~4.2k

Joel let go of a big sigh, knees cracking as he sat down on the couch. Even taking a shower was damn exhausting at his age—he preferred it when you scrubbed his back in the bath, massaged his biceps and forearms, gently squeezed his dick while the movement created rippling waves in the water.

He’d only managed to comb through his dry, silvery curls, to throw a worn shirt and some loose boxers on, before he needed to take a break. He was getting too old to go on long, extenuating patrols. Perhaps Joel should take up Tommy’s offer and solely focus on managing the construction in Jackson. He’d have more time with you that way too.

His mind was drifting away, thinking about all the things he would do to you in his free time, when his most delicious desire materialised in front of him. His precious little thing—you.

“Why are you so lonely over here, handsome?” you teased, lips curling into a sinful smile.

You lost no time, sitting beside him, snuggling up to his side. Joel’s arm draped around your shoulders instinctively, his fingertips tracing lazy circles on your collarbone.

“I dunno, someone didn’t want to join me in the shower…” he pouted slightly, a laugh tearing up your throat as you poked his ribs with one finger.

“I told you to wait for me, but you’re a grumpy old man who has no patience,” you reproached jokingly.

His eyes rolled back in exasperation, but you were right. He’d just wanted to hop in the shower as soon as he got home, ready to dust off the fatigue of the day.

“Whatever,” he mumbled, shrugging.

His hand slowly moved away from your collarbone up to your neck. Carefully, his fingers dug around your throat, just enough for you to look up at him and gape for air—the sweet pressure on your trachea making you gasp like a little fish out of the water.

“Give your old man a kiss, will ya?” he husked, bowing down his head.

You reached up to him, mouth agape, almost touching his lips. You froze there, your sight simmering with need, awaiting his permission… and when his eyes flicked with lust, you closed the distance and pressed your lips on his.

The kiss quickly became sloppy, your spit coating the stubble around his mouth. Muted, needy moans bubbled up your windpipe—an irresistible call of nature, silently begging him to give you what you wanted, what you needed.

How could he resist you? Joel simply couldn’t, especially when your hand landed on his knee and the making out session came to an end, the tip of your nose tracing his jawline before you pressed a kiss to his beating jugular and buried your face in the crook of his neck.

Your palm squeezed the back of his hairy knee, slowly sliding it up his thigh whilst he manspread on the couch. His brown eyes tracked your every move, his legs’ muscles tensing as you playfully approached his groin. A pull in his soft tummy made him flinch when you reached the dip between his crotch and thigh, his cock hardening at the seductive tease.

A throaty moan rumbled through his chest when you tightly gripped the flesh of his inner thigh, thumb lazily stroking the outline of his shaft over the boxers.

“You’re a bit starved for touch today, aren’tcha?” you nudged him, lips pressed against the shell of his ear.

His cock twitched.

“And whose fault is that?” he snapped back, nerves on edge.

You simply giggled, shaking your head as your hand finally cupped his growing bulge. Gently kneaded him, massaging his aching balls over the fabric. Joel could feel the warmth of your touch seeping through the boxers, compelling him to grow bigger, harder, thicker.

Your palm rubbed against the covered length of him, then dropped to his sacks again—and, irremediably, his hips bucked up, bare heels dug in the wooden floor. He thoroughly enjoyed it when you cupped his balls like that—lovingly, languidly, exquisitely, taking the weight off him so he could find some bliss.

Seeing you so locked in on his pleasure, your tongue darting out to wet your lips… It just added to your appeal, another reason to love you. Because he did—fuck, yes he did, with all his fucking heart.

Suddenly, you squeezed his balls a bit too harsh, holding your grip as if your life depended on him, kissing his jawline. The unexpected squash on his testicles forced a moan out of him—and something else.

A firing pulse took a hold of him, surging down from his spine directly into his balls, and inevitably his cock throbbed with releasing strength. Joel couldn’t have stopped himself even if he wanted to. He first felt the sticky warmth soaking his boxers, and his eyes quickly shot down to his lap.

There was a wet, growing spot on his underwear. He’d fucking cummed in his boxers like an inexperienced teenager—or the old man he was, despite how adamant he was to deny it—and he wasn’t even fully hard yet.

Embarrassed wouldn’t even start to cover it. Joel was fucking mortified.

His mouth ran dry, heartrate throbbing in his eardrums like a shameful cacophony. This had never occurred before—cumming way too early in his loose boxers, the proof right there for you to see, staining the grey fabric. It happened so fast, so intensely, Joel hadn’t had the time to rein in his own orgasm.

His face flushed with abasement; the tips of his ears hot as embers. Unwrapping his arm from around your shoulders, Joel leaned back, his head slacking back and resting on top of the couch. He pinched the bridge of his nose, his free hand tight in a fist, before a trembling sigh escaped his lips.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he whispered, unable to look at you.

“Oh, it’s okay, baby,” you replied reassuringly, your tone too sweet for the circumstances you both were in. Your hand wrapped around his wrist, forcing his hand out of his face. “This just proves how much you love me, so much you can’t even resist me. It’s hot.”

Joel finally had the courage to look you in the eye, a cocked brow showing his disbelief.

“Hot? You think it’s hot I just came in my boxers with a lil’ tugging?” he repeated out loud, unable to believe what you just had said. “I’m not even hard, sweetheart. It’s… humiliating.”

You nodded to his question, your top teeth sinking in your plump bottom lip. Your eyes locked in on his as your hand travelled down his frame, your thumb stroking the obvious wet spot in his underwear.

“Mhm,” you cooed with a playful grin. “Very hot, not humiliating. And I can fix that. Fix him so we can have a good cuddle.”

“I don’t think I can…” you silenced him with a kiss before you got up from the couch and disappeared into the kitchen without another word.

A minute later you were back, towering above him with a sinful little smirk, one hand hidden behind your back.

“Open your mouth,” you requested.

“Huh?”

“Just open it for me, please?” you dragged the last word, blinking rather exaggeratedly.

Joel huffed his disagreement, but ended up obeying. His tongue slid out, patiently waiting for whatever you had in mind. With a flourish, you opened your fist to reveal a blue pill. His eyes lighted up in understanding—he thought he had run out of viagra.

“I always keep a secret stock,” you confessed, reading his mind. “For emergencies only.”

Slowly, you set the pill down on his tongue, your thumb caressing the tip of his wet muscle before you retreated to let him close his mouth. Before Joel could swallow, you bowed down to kiss him, your tongue pushing the pill down his throat with a little needy moan.

His Adam’s apple bobbed, the pill secure in his belly now. It was just a matter of time, but meanwhile…

“Let me make it up to you, sweetheart,” he growled, the taste of your sweet cunt haunting him. “You deserve to be eaten out—so thoughtful of your old man. It’s what you enjoy most, right? Having your swollen pussy drooling all over my face, leaking into my mouth…”

His words had an immediate effect on you. Joel knew exactly how to get you off—not that you needed any more encouragement. Your clit was already palpitating, your hole gushing for his attention. The promise of a good pussy eating was everything you’d hoped for after feeding him that viagra pill.

You straightened your back, ready to get started, and Joel slithered off the couch until he was sat on the floor, his achy back leaned against the bottom part of the sofa. He sat back a little, his head resting on the edge of the couch while your pants and underwear dropped to the floor.

“Someone’s eager,” he taunted when you kicked off your clothing to one side.

“Oh, that’s an understatement,” you exhaled sharply.

Joel curled one long, thick finger at you to invite you to sit on his face, and that was exactly what you did.

You knelt on the sofa, his head right between your thighs, and you anchored your hands to the back of the furniture. His warm breath fanned your pussy, a shiver running up your spine. His broad, calloused hands ran up the back of your legs, coaxing your ass cheeks apart so your slit would crack open for him.

“My sweet girl… You’re already so wet,” he tutted at you, pecking your perineum, the tip of his aquiline nose tickling your entrance. “You really like your old man, don’tcha?”

You were about to answer when Joel lapped your entire seam in one smooth motion before his mouth latched onto your pulsing clit. You sobbed audibly, head lolled back, fingers curling tightly around the cushion of the backrest. Only managing a hushed “mhm,” Joel suckled on your throbbing nub again, pulling the hood back with his tongue.

A myriad of stars danced behind your eyelids when Joel gently nibbled at your bud, his middle finger sliding in your tight hole to rub that precise spot inside your cunt. He ate you out diligently—sucked, licked, bit, flicked your clit… rinse and repeat. Your pussy fluttered around his finger, your moans louder than they should have been considering the thin walls of the house. Sensing your desperation, Joel’s finger slipped out with a pop, to quickly fill your drooling entrance with his tongue.

It was too much—deliciously so. When you thought you’d had the best head ever, Joel always outdid himself. His wet muscle thrusted in and your pussy reciprocated with stuttering squeezes on his tongue. He didn’t falter, not even for a breather—as if he was trying to pull something out of your cunt.

“Jo-Joel…” you mewled, half whimper, half prayer.

You were so drenched, you could feel a flood forming in your womb—a heap of your arousal waiting to drip into his mouth. A tight coil low in your belly with a strangling force, so intense your shut eyes were tearing up, the drops of your silent cries sliding off your temples. Joel didn’t leave a spot unattended, worshipping your puffy pussy lips, your gushing hole, your thudding clit with his tongue and teeth.

Unable to rein in your own lust anymore, you dropped one hand and fisted his hair, forcing him to stay put, still between your trembling thighs. Your body was asking to take control, to let go of the tethers of decency—not that you had much left anyway.

“Wanna ride my face, hm?” Joel muttered with a shaky laugh.

“Mhmmm,” you moaned, shaking your head yes, your bottom lip twitching.

“Go on, baby, use me,” and then he rolled your bundle of nerves between his teeth.

That was the last straw—his words, your undoing. So you did exactly that. Still anchoring his head to the couch, you rocked your hips on his face, just once. His nose traced the entirety of your slit, catching on your clit, and you whined. A second later you were completely sat on his face, almost smothering him, while you rode not only his face, but specifically his nose.

Looking down, you saw his forehead reappear when your hips moved back. Every time you glided over him, the coil tightened and the flood dropped further down in your uterus. Stilling, you circled your waist on his mouth, and then resumed the riding.

It happened too quickly. Suddenly, the dam in your pussy just gave way, and you squirted all over his face while the most wanton moan tore up your throat, your vocal chords feeling raw from so much screaming. The biggest wave—no, tsunami—of your life washed over you, your thighs quivering like crazy while you locked them shut around his head.

Joel eagerly drank everything you offered him, groaning below you like a thirsty man who had not tasted water in days. For a long minute you couldn’t control the spasms of your cunt, dripping onto his nose, mouth and chin, your slick running down his neck and wetting the neck of his shirt.

Heaving, all your muscles finally relaxed, and you dropped to one side to release Joel from the imprisonment of your thighs. A side glance at Joel told you that he was licking off your juices from anywhere his tongue could reach, and that vision made you whimper again.

“I… Uh…” you mumbled, incapable of finding the words to describe what had just happened. “That was… the best head you’ve ever given me, you handsome old man.”

“You mean the best head you’ve ever had, full stop. Right?” he joked while he planted his hands on the edge of the couch to push himself up and sit besides you, his knees loudly cracking.

You laughed, nodding vehemently as you curled up to his side. His face was still wet from your cum, so you swept off some of it for him, kissing it away. The curls freely hanging over his forehead were damp with your slick too, and just that sight made your clit throb again. Raking your fingers through his salt-and-pepper hair, you combed it back with the product of your arousal.

“You don’t need hair gel if you’ve got me,” you said with a smile, and Joel tsked before letting go of a hearty chuckle.

“My personal hairdresser,” Joel quipped.

His laugh died in his mouth when your taunting hand flew to his bulge again. This time, he was extremely hard. Balls loaded and heavy, cock drumming.

“How’s my toy doing? Ready?” It was a rhetoric question, you could feel how ready he was.

“All… yours,” his words hitched, eyes darkening with a burning desire.

Without wasting another second, you knelt before him on the floor, his thighs spread open to house your frame. You couldn’t resist to lean forward and kiss the wet spot on his underwear, stealing a quick taste. Licking off the stain, you gazed up at him.

Joel was watching your every move with predatory attention, his tight fists resting to either side of him. Trying to convey calmness, but you could feel the eagerness simmering under the surface.

You buried your face in his bulge again, rubbing him over the fabric with your mouth, lips and cheeks. Kneaded him with worshipping heed, pulling the textile between your teeth, drunk with the crispy, sticky sound the wet boxers made when they unglued from his damp cock. Feeling his heartbeat, you inhaled keenly—his scent swarming your senses.

You could spend hours like this, with your face tucked away in his groin, feeling the length of him hardening against your cheek. But you were anxious to shove him down your throat.

Your fingers curled around the waistband of his old man’s loose boxers, and Joel lifted his hips off the pillows just enough for you to pull them down his legs, tangled around his ankles. His dick sprung free, swaying in front of you like a tasty lollypop. Cockhead flushed and painfully red, the vein on his underside visibly pulsing, his heavy, full balls tightened up into the base of his dick. And then the cum he’d been so embarrassed about, topping his mushroom head and sliding off his shaft.

It really was a beautiful sight. You pushed his girthy length against his soft tummy and lapped at his balls first, to then find your way up his shaft until your lips sealed shut around his angry cockhead, cleaning off all his nutty spent.

Joel groaned above you, shifting his position ever so slightly, and was gentle enough to caress your cheek with his thumb before he gave you a soft smack.

“Careful not to choke, sweetheart. Take it easy,” he growled, words dying off when you pushed him down your mouth, the hoarse curls at the base tingling your nose. “Easy does it.”

With your mouth full, you gave free rein to your instincts. Took him out completely, a bridge of saliva linking your lips to the tip of his cock, and then shoved him down your throat again. You gagged and whimpered at the same time, precum and spit overflowing from the corners of your mouth. How the end of him hit your uvula, breaching past it… it was the most elated you had ever felt.

Your pace quickly picked up, and soon enough you were bobbing your head on his lap to the point that tomorrow you’d have a stiff neck. But it would be completely worth it. Sucking him off, your tongue swirled around his leaky cockhead to then nip at it. Closing your mouth, you slid his tip over your clenched teeth and lips, making a mess of your face.

“Eaaaasy… Fuck, stop,” Joel tugged at your hair.

You had been so lost in the moment, you looked up at him bewildered. You didn’t want to stop, you could never have enough of him. But realisation quickly hit. His balls were twitching against your chin, a sign that Joel was about to lose it.

“I could have my dick in your mouth all day and night, sweetheart, but I need your pussy now,” he husked, half plea, half threat.

Joel relaxed against the couch when you got up to your feet and straddled him, your knees sunk in the pillows to either side of his legs. Reaching behind you, you grabbed at his throbbing cock, gliding it over your entire slit until it hitched in your entrance.

Biting your lip down to stop a slutty moan from coming out, you locked eyes with him. Watching his façade tumble down every time you descended on his lap was one of the most beautiful sights. So slowly you impaled yourself, taking in how Joel’s face loosened up, his hands firm on your hips—how the crows’ feet kissing the corners of his chocolate eyes would smooth out, how his cheeks would flush, how his nose would do a cute little scrunch, or how his lips would part, letting out a heavy sigh.

Joel tried to fuck up into you when you lifted your hips and you tutted at him, pinning him down so he wouldn’t move.

“Nuh-uh. I’m doing all the work tonight, baby. You just lean back and relax, let me fuck you,” you warned him, an edge to your tone advising him to refrain from complaining.

He’d been on patrol out all day—you knew how tired he was, how his old man’s bones would crack with the gentlest of moves.

“But—”

“No, no buts. If you stay still and behave, I’ll let you come inside. Be good for me, please,” you cooed, your mouth moving against his with every suggestive word.

Joel finally grunted in agreement, and the smile on your face couldn’t be wider—even your cheeks hurt. Despite how badly you wanted to say “good boy,” you didn’t press your luck. Joel was quite dominant, but you enjoyed these subtle shifts in your relationship when he was very tired. So tired you could boss him around with no reprimands.

Once he had settled down, you began riding him, his reassuring hands kneading your hips for encouragement. At first it was slow-paced, his cock lazily swallowed by your labia only half-way through. With every pump, you let him slide a little bit deeper, sweet desperation building up behind his adoring eyes.

And after a few minutes, you were bouncing up and down on his throbbing shaft with heavy, quick dives. You laced your hands behind his neck for support, your forehead resting on his, your sweats mixing. Every time he exhaled, you inhaled his needy groans, high with the passion burning between you two.

His cock filled you up to the brim, especially when he was fully seated in your crying cunt. His tip would kiss your cervix, sending firing signals up your spine, numbing your mind. He was so girthy, your inner walls parted like the Red Sea to greet him, to house him. Every time he pulsed inside, your pussy squeezed him hard—as if they were talking to each other. Joel was the perfect fit to you, in every fucking sense.

His cockhead dragged along your anterior wall, putting pressure on the exact spot that always had you gushing. You were so close to nirvana, you could almost touch the sky with your fingertips. Understanding how close you were—probably because your pussy was uncontrollably fluttering around him—Joel took it upon himself to tip you over the cliff of your pleasure. One of his hands flew to your clit, pressing tight circles on your nub as you, quite literally, jumped on him like a demon possessed—and your whole brain short-circuited right there and then.

“Come for you old man, sweetheart. Squirt all over my cock, drench my lap. Wanna feel her sing around me, milk me fucking dry until my balls are completely empty,” Joel husked against your lips, his thumb quicker on your clit now, pushing back the hood to expose your bundle of nerves to his incessant touch even more. “Can you do that for me, hm?”

You did exactly that the moment Joel stopped petting your clit and, instead, he gently tapped at it with four fingers, the squelching sound driving you crazy. The clapping of skin on skin driving you wild. You finally came, screaming at the top of your lungs, while your hips stuttered above him. Incapable of maintaining any pace now, you sat on his lap—his thudding cock buried down to the hilt in your quivering pussy, the best orgasm of your life hitting you at once.

Your entire body was quaking, your pussy flitting arrhythmically as the last squirts left your insides. Joel was throbbing inside you, grown to a point you thought he might explode. And with the last bit of energy, you clamped down on him as strongly as you could, burying your face in the crook of his neck.

“Fuck, that’s it, sweetheart,” Joel moaned loudly, head tilting back against the couch.

He pulsed one last time, and then finally filled you up. His cum flooded your pussy with long, thick ropes—so much that it was soon gushing out, mixed with your own arousal. It was warm and comforting, knowing that his seed was safe in your cunt. You squeezed once more to completely drain his balls, and he gifted you with some more drops.

You hummed in approval, so satisfied you almost felt sleepy. Joel smacked your right buttock and then hugged you around the waist, feeling your weight on him like a blanket. Neither of you moved, his cock still snug inside your pussy, your breathings loud and heavy.

“We still have a couple of hours before they serve dinner in the community hall. Can’t go anywhere in this… state,” Joel snickered, kissing your cheek.

“Gonna have to take care of this for you, ain’t I?” you whispered, batting your eyelashes at him before you grinded your hips on his lap. Your clit twitched in response, overstimulated. “I need a minute though, I feel like my whole nervous system is on fire right now.”

“Take as long as you need, sweetheart. I could be here all day right until the last minute,” he muttered, his hands gliding over the sweaty skin on your back.

“You’ll need to at least take a shower before we leave. I made a mess of your hair,” you laughed, nudging the vein on his neck with the tip of your nose.

“No, I like this hair gel better. I ain’t washing my hair.”

Your eyes shot up to him. The mere idea of him leaving the house with your slick dampening his hair, him being in public bathed in your pussy scent… while talking to others, fully claiming him as yours… Right then, you brain chemistry was changed forever.

Your clit throbbed, and you purposefully clutched around his still hard shaft.

“I’m ready again.”

2K notes · View notes