valentinesirwins - Tumblr blog

valentinesirwins · 5 years ago

Text

nsfw alphabet; the mandalorian

summary: an nsfw alphabet inspired by @no-droids own post. basically just a bunch of hot takes regarding mando’s sex life.

warnings: this is SMUT you absolute buffoons !! oral (both sides), unprotected sex, masturbation, kinks, slight bondage, dom and sub!mando (two for one deal gals and gays!), of course there’s fluff, probably more but just know this is 18+ lol

a/n: oop and just like that it’s wh*re hours !! this one’s for the mandowhorians, and shoutout to isa for inspiring me with her whiskey nsfw alphabet. requests are open, feedback is always appreciated, and remember reblogs > notes

word count: 2, 500

(gif not mine!) // source: @djjarindin

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

- No matter how soft or how intense he was, Din would always, ALWAYS put your needs before his in regards to aftercare. Whether it be getting you a damp cloth to wipe the white fluid from your abdomen, or simply just engulfing you in the warmth of his arms and pressing you close enough to feel each other’s heartbeats until finally lulling off to sleep, the bounty hunter was adamant on taking care of you.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

- While he doesn’t have a preference over ass or titties (cause either view was more than fine to him tbh), you were particularly keen on the bounty hunter’s collarbones. Leaving bruises, hot kisses, and simply just exploring every inch of him was euphoric. It was the place you found your face buried in while in the midst of orgasm, drowning yourself in his familiar sweetness and pressing drowsy, hot kisses against his damp skin.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

- During the first year or so of your relationship, the two of you were mutually adamant on either a condom or in most cases, the ‘pull-out’ method. As time passed, however, you had both realized that a clan of four didn’t sound too bad at all. Ever since, you ditched the latex and threats of orgasm for the raw, euphoric sensation of two souls truly becoming one. He loved the way his cum looked seeping out of your pulsating, swollen core as you both came down from your orgasms.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

- He LOVES tying you up, whether it be on your hands and knees, or against the headboard of the cot. Your submissiveness and vulnerability was a huge turn on to him, especially when he teased you, which he was a master at, and how you could do absolutely nothing about it.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

- While incredibly touch-starved, the Mandalorian had fantasized about you for so long that when the time finally came to please you, he knew exactly what he was doing. In the process, he discovered your own little spots that made you writhe beneath him, and now he’s made it a point to bring you on the brink of overstimulation every time he was between your thighs. All his life he’s only known discipline and control and that definitely applies to the bedroom, from pacing his thrusts to maneuvering his tongue and fingers in a masterful symphony.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

- Considering that he doesn’t have a preference between boobs or ass, Din could really get with plain ‘ol missionary. Whoever was on top, which was honestly a 50/50 chance between you two would bury their face in the other’s neck, marking their territory in the process and drowning themselves in the other’s familiar, sweet scent. He loved looking at you, either falling apart beneath him or arching your back in ecstasy on top of him. It was an equilibrium. Intimate and beautiful. Plain and simple.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

- At first, being intimate was something incredibly sacred to both you and the Mandalorian. You didn’t want him to feel pressured to obligated to abandon the Creed- the way of life he’s known for so long. But when he realized that he couldn’t live out the rest of his days without you and the Child by his side, the decision to abandon and walk away from the Guild and the Beskar almost seemed easy.

- After that, the sex was much more relaxed- not less intimate or sacred, it was just… everything you could ever want and more. And you were so content.

H = Hair (how well-groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

- While not covered head-to-toe in hair, there was a thin trail of fine brown tufts down the middle of his chest, as well as a happy trail leading down to well-groomed, slightly trimmed pubic hair. He kept himself groomed because he knew it was the way you liked it, especially when giving him head.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

- It was hard to believe that the Mandalorian could be so incredibly gentle and soft in bed, especially after being so used to only seeing his hardened and rigid exterior of Beskar and ammo. He took his time to make sure your needs were met and would often find himself pressing your form flush to his in the height of orgasm in an attempt to get you as close to him as possible. Two souls became one in a moment of pure bliss and intimacy, disregarding any and every outside variable and focusing only on one another and the absolute spectacle before them.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

- The way he would beat his meat alone in the middle of the night in his quarters… thinking about how you were a mere few paces away from him. So close yet so far away. With one hand wrapped around his rock-hard cock and the other roaming from his balls, up his abdomen, and across his chest, he would imagine your hands in place of his own. Almost every single time it would send him off the edge, spurts of hot seed making a mess across his abdomen. There was a sense of shame to it, feeling as though he disrespected you in some way. All those doubts were put aside when you found him pleasuring himself in the dark confines of his quarters, holding back moans and curses beneath hitched breaths as the sight immediately made you a sopping wet mess.

- Needless to say, the Mandalorian didn’t finish alone that night.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

- Orgasm torture…. on both sides. There was just something about building the others’ orgasm up to its maximum capacity and watching it completely obliterate all their composure that sent the other over the edge.

- He would never, ever admit it, but the Mandalorian had a huge praise kink. He looovvveeedd the way his name fell from your lips, encouraging his hips to drive deeper into you, or his tongue to flick faster against your clit; it was your way of telling him that he was doing everything right. His own name was still foreign even to him, so the sound of the three letters falling off your lips was enough to send the bounty hunter spiraling.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

- The cockpit of the Razor Crest while on autopilot was the place to go when you needed to squeeze in a quick stress-reliever. While the quarters were tight, you two made it work with a couple maneuvers of your extremities, the Mandalorian supporting your weight without effort as you to fucked into hyperspace.

- When it was a special occasion however, Din would settle the ship on a desolate planet and rent out a small cottage for the three of you to stay in. After the Child was sound asleep, and the bounty hunter was freshly showered after a long hunt, you two would take full advantage of the bed you could actually spread out on without falling off the edge. It was nights like those when Din Djarin wanted to spend the rest of his days in domesticity with you, as a clan of four.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

- As mentioned before, Mando loves loves loves being praised. His name was still foreign to even him, so the symphony of the three-letter name falling off your lips in absolute bliss was pure fuel to the bounty hunter.

- For you, it was the almost pornographic moans that escaped from the back of his throat. It was the fact that he wasn’t afraid to let you know that what you were doing was right and made him feel good… especially when he was so motivated to get the exact sounds out of you. He was Loud™… and it was Hot™.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

- Mando!! Does!! NOT!! Share!! Period!! You are his and he is yours; you were his sun, moon, and all his stars, and by the Maker, if anyone were to lay even a mere finger on you, they would be a dead man in a matter of minutes.

- You’ve acted as a decoy on some of his missions before, but more often than not, the sight of your deep burgundy number hugging all your curves in all the right places would end up sending you two in the cantina restroom for a quickie.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

- When I say Mando loves some good head…. I mean it. You loved to treat him to some post-shower pipe after a long mission, or just as a treat for taking care of both you and the Child so well for so long. You were both a tease and got right to the point, utilizing every part of your mouth to make the experience as euphoric and pleasurable as possible for the bounty hunter.

- In regards to the Mandalorian’s skills to giving head… well, you were convinced he had been doing it for years. He loved the way your fingers tugged at the roots of his curls when you were on the brink of orgasm, involuntarily bucking your hips up every time his fingers hit that certain spot. Judging by the way his tongue masterfully maneuvered around your swollen clit, to orchestrating an entire symphony with the help of both his mouth and his fingers, you were confident that you would ever get used to Mando giving you head.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

- Assuming that it wasn’t a quickie, Mando definitely took his time to enjoy the foreplay aspect. He especially loved it when you would grind against his thigh, leaving a pool of slick on the fabric and seeping against the bare skin beneath it. When he had his hands on you, he couldn’t keep them off. Trailing kisses down every square inch of your body as he focused entirely on making you feel good was all he could ever ask for.

- Even after your second or third orgasm, the bounty hunter would continue thrusting into you with such a driving force that every time your hips slammed together the entire system would go white with raw ecstasy. The sensation of your overstimulated walls clenching around his rigid cock only quickened Din’s pace, only becoming sloppy at the brink of orgasm. At that point, you would be a mess of trembling euphoria, barely able to hold yourself up as the Mandalorian manipulated your fourth orgasm to match his in a moment of pure, mutual equilibrium.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

- Mando loves a sneaky quickie, whether it be on a job, the early hours of dawn, or after coming back after a long mission. His favorite place to bust out a quick one was in the cockpit of the Razor Crest, straddling him in the pilot’s chair as his lips pressed against the valley between your breasts. While you two always left the room in shambles, it was always thrilling to see how fast one could make the other cum first, racing towards the finish line all in the name of some brownie points.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

- The Mandalorian, despite his hardened exterior, was an absolute sucker for you. Anything you wanted was handed to you without a reasonable doubt, especially when you stood beneath him on your tippy-toes, looking up at sepia irises with your own iridescent ones. He had gone soft; and while you weren’t exactly a risk-taker, you did like to take him by surprise by leaning over his lap while he piloted the Razor Crest, taking him into your mouth and blowing him until his cock twitched within your wetness. He liked to hold himself in the warm confines of your mouth after he orgasmed, his seed seeping out the corners of your swollen lips as you struggled and gagged to find missing breaths. It was filthy, pornographic, and incredibly hot.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

- Din had been fighting since he was a kid. Hell, the man took on an entire Mudhorn and, granted almost died, still nearly knocked it down with brute force and strength. To think that sort of stamina wouldn’t manifest itself into the bedroom would be foolish, your honor.

- The man could fuck from sunrise to sunset if he wanted, manipulating your orgasms to draw themselves out for as long as possible, switching positions that would open entirely different realms of pleasure, and end up leaving you unable to walk properly for a couple of days afterward.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

- Mando’s animosity towards droids reflected itself on his feelings towards toys. He likes to feel you, the warmth, the spasms, the slickness… everything. That’s it. That’s the tweet.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

- WHEN I SAY MANDO IS A TEASE !! There are times where the man will rub his cock against the soaking wet folds of your core, teasing your clit with his sensitive head for what feels like hours before inserting just the tip… only to repeat the process again. He wanted to get everything out of you, and he was well-aware of the effect teasing had on you.

- That’s why he did it so much. Duh.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

- His moans were an absolute symphony to your ears, often consisting of strings of curses and grunts, the octave only increasing the closer he got to orgasm. Din’s moans were a turn-on in and within themselves and could get you off alone. Combined with the sensation of his cock twitching inside you, along with his lips vibrating against the sensitive skin between your neck and collarbones… it sent you into a flurry of your own moans and curses, filling the atmosphere around you with sex.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

- Mando loved to put a blindfold on you every once in a while. It was when his touch was unexpected and took you by surprise that gave him the response he wanted. He also loved wrapping your wrists with some extra rope laying around the ship, completely submissive and vulnerable to his touch as you could only writhe and moan beneath his euphoric touch.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

- He’s PACKING packing. 6-8 inches hard at LEAST.

- Hot take: he’s not cut. Heightened sensitivity on both ends can actually be something so personal.

- There’s a slight curve that lands his cock against his right side, head brushing against the inside of his thigh when flaccid and not tucked within a pair of briefs. Full balls, soft, not a hair in sight, which makes giving head much more enjoyable in your humble opinion. While not obscenely veiny, the Mandalorian would come undone at the sensation of your tongue running up the underside of the large, pulsating blue vein running against his cock. What really sealed the deal, however, was when your tongue would spread the precum around his oversensitive head, wrapping swollen lips around the tip and taking in every drop of the salty fluid. The vibrations your moans sent against his cock caused Din to throw his head back against the surface behind him, vision going blurry with the sight of the entire star system as he swallowed the breaths hitched within his throat.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

- Din was the instigator more often than you were, but there was always a 100 percent chance that you would be yearning for him just as much as he was for you. While fucking was something that you both used for a quick release, and a way to let go of all of the tensions and stress that came with both of your lifestyles, it was sex that was reserved for the times where the two souls yearned to become one in a moment of intimacy in its rawest form.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

- Almost every time, without fail, Din would use his last bit of energy to engulf you within the confines of his arms, peppering kisses against your forehead as you both drifted off to sleep. Limbs would tangle together, relaxing into each other’s warmth as the gentle, low hum of the Razor Crest lulled both of you off to sleep.

764 notes · View notes

valentinesirwins · 5 years ago

Photo

PEDRO PASCAL for Solo Loewe

3K notes · View notes

valentinesirwins · 5 years ago

Photo

On today’s episode of “I have zero self control when it comes to Pedro’s smiles and also GLASSES”

6K notes · View notes

valentinesirwins · 5 years ago

Note

Hello ☺️ could you please right a Mando x reader where he walks in to find her singing to baby Yoda to sleep. He makes a comment about how she’ll make a great mother one day and she replies with something about that being a relief because she’s pregnant and he’s shocked but extremely pleased and happy to be a father! Please and thank you! P.S I love love love the wake up call fic you wrote! 💕

summary: see request :)

warnings: nothin’ but pure fluff, mando says one (1) swear

a/n: oop this request made me SOFT soft !! please send in more dad!mando requests they’re my fave

word count: 1, 700

(gif not mine!)

Sleep was a privilege for both you and the Mandalorian. Most nights, while the other was sleeping, one would toss and turn in their slumber. Restless at the habit of refusing to rest in fear of another bounty hunter, an Imperial fleet, or anything else in between even coming close to the Razor Crest.

These recent nights, however, it was you tossing and turning as Mando slept stilly beside you. Subconsciously, the bounty hunter had become used to hearing your light, distant footsteps in his dreams, teetering on the brink of sleep until you returned to bed, finally relaxing when the cot sunk to the shape of your form. Most of the time, the Mandalorian would use the last bit of consciousness he had to turn himself around and engulf you within the familiar, comforting warmth of his arms, spooning your back against his torso and drifting back off to sleep together.

That was until you would awaken again. Like clockwork, every hour and a half to two hours you would wriggle out of the bounty hunter’s arms, your stomach in knots and performing somersaults as you sprinted towards the lavatory. What was left in your gut- which wasn’t much at all at this point, ended up in the toilet. Heaving over the cold metal, you found the slightest sliver of relief in the coolness of the steel floors beneath you, trying- and failing, to contain the involuntary spasming in your abdomen as you dry heaved for another 5 minutes, which still felt like eternity nonetheless.

It wasn’t until the second or third night in a row when you realized. From that point on, the certainty had grown exponentially with every sleepless night that passed. It was a placebo; you knew damn well of that, but you swore you could see the slightest bump growing against your lower abdomen every time you looked in the mirror. The only word you could use to encompass everything you felt was… terrifying. Absolutely terrifying.

This was something that you were supposed the be happy, ecstatic, and absolutely elated over. And yet, you found yourself on the verge of collapsing within a void of your own anxieties and fears with every dry heave and gag over the toilet.

With your face flushed red and covered in a thin sheen of cold sweat, the ringing in your ears was replaced by the familiar cries of the Child coming from the other room. Your vision was still hazy as you used your muscle memory to guide you towards the Child’s cot, opening the cover to see a wrinkled green face contorted in discomfort and unease. A comforting shoosh escaped from your lips, taking the bundle of robes in your arms before grabbing the bottle of formula on the nightstand. Fuzzy green ears finally relaxed as the Child weened on the bottle, gently swaying the gradually relaxing baby back and forth as your own eyelids started to get heavy.

Usually it was a foolproof method, but even the swaying and the formula couldn’t get the Child back to sleep. Your last resort was a lullaby, one where the words were now a distant memory, but the melody was all too familiar. It was one your mother had sung to lull you to sleep, especially during the frequent storms and bombings that took place on your now eradicated home planet. The only part of the lullaby you could recall was the strange sweetness of Spring, falling asleep beneath the gentle sway of nature’s rebirth as life itself radiated around you. It was beautiful, and a melody that could ease any soul’s mind.

The lullaby ended, and the once twisted face had now relaxed back into a deep sleep. The Child’s lips still took the shape of the bottle tip as you ever so gently placed the bundle of robes back into the crib, careful as to not even fathom the idea of stirring the Child’s sleep. Your shoulders relaxed as you let out a breath you weren’t even aware you were holding in, tucking the loose strands of hair behind your ears before turning on your heel.

Shock shot through every nerve of your being as the Mandalorian’s familiar form appeared leaning against the doorway. Within the low light of the Razor Crest, you could spot the stardust hidden beneath a pair of chestnut eyes. However, it was a sort of sparkle that you hadn’t really seen, let alone noticed ever before.

“Don’t do that!” Your speedy footsteps towards the helmetless bounty hunter were nearly inaudible as you pushed him out of the doorway.

Between clenched teeth was a series of tired giggles as Djarin wrapped his arms around your waist, a still fairly new smile beaming above you. By the Maker, you could stare at that smile all day, completely suffocate yourself in it, burning the grin into your memory as if it were the last thing you see before the end of your days. You couldn’t imagine a life without that smile, without Din Djarin.

You had to tell him.

Time stood still, white noise ringing in your ears as your eyes switched between sepia irises and down towards the floor. He knew something was wrong, judging by the way your own smile dissipated from your cheeks when the two finally fell motionless within the four walls of the Razor Crest’s quarters.

“Tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

He called your bluff as soon as the sentence left your lips. From the way you held your bottom lip between your teeth, to the way the space between your eyebrows formed a tiny horn as they furrowed with your little white lie.

There were no words spoken as the bounty hunter tilted his head, a maneuver you had seen countless of times with the helmet on, and had assured you that Din Djarin was still the man you fell in love with behind the Beskar. And yet, despite your insecurities and fears, you knew the bounty hunter from the inside out; his story, his emotions, hell you were even getting a grasp on his thought process, and you knew that no matter what the galaxy threw at them, which was a whole lot, that he would use his last dying breath to protect both you and the Child.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Your chin tilted down, tilting ever so slightly as a smile teased the corners of your lips.

While it didn’t take long for the Mandalorian to compose his sentences, it was just the delivery that was always met with a long pause before actually falling off his lips. It was something you noticed shortly after he started taking off the helmet more and more, gathering every detail of the bounty hunter’s voice without the modulator. Every crack, every rise and fall of his voice was an absolute symphony to your ears and opened up an entirely new dimension to the Mandalorian. It was human… it was him.

The thoughts running through his head were traveling at a million parsecs a second, unable to form any of them into coherent sentences as he played out the rest of his days with you by his side. The scene was simple, a barely aged Child goggling down at a smaller bundle of robes held in your arms, features resembling both yours and his, especially their father’s dark curls. A proper family. A clan of four.

“I just…”

The bounty hunter rarely searched for the rest of his sentences as they left the back of his throat, which was especially heavily as he looked down at the soul he wanted to spend the rest of his days and beyond forever with.

If it was going to be any moment, it was going to be now.

“Din…”

Your palm cupped his stubbled cheek, tracing circled against the tanned skin as you tilted his face towards yours and locked eyes. Without breaking contact, you placed your free hand atop of his and led it towards the tiny bump on your abdomen. He knew the second the calloused skin pressed against your stomach, breath hitching as he swallowed the thick lump in his throat.

“…I’m pregnant”

Were you supposed to say that you were sorry? Sorry for what, exactly? It was an impossible question, to say the least. Maybe it was your constant nausea, but you felt suffocated in the thickness of the air around you as the room fell silent with the anticipation of his response.

“That’s-“

His sentence was cut off by the sting of tears and mucus building up in his nose, a pair of glistening eyes radiating with raw joy and excitement as a beaming smile spread across his cheeks.

“I’m so fucking happy!”

His voice cut in and out of audibility as he attempted to swallow the growing lump in his throat. Without a second thought, you stood up on your tippy-toes to press your lips against Din’s. The kiss was a mess of snot and smiles as he pulled your form flush to his, both of you smiling against each other’s lips in a moment of pure elation.

Never in a million lightyears would you ever even fathom the idea of seeing the Mandalorian shed any kind of tears. But now, as he went down to his knees and pressed a gentle kiss against the bare bump, you couldn’t help but notice the taste of watery salt lingering on your lips.

“I’m gonna take care of you…”

Tearful eyes locked, switching between each other’s familiar irises and the hands pressed against your abdomen.

“…Both of you.”

174 notes · View notes

valentinesirwins · 5 years ago

Note

summary: see request :)

warnings: nothin’ but pure fluff, mando says one (1) swear

a/n: oop this request made me SOFT soft !! please send in more dad!mando requests they’re my fave

word count: 1, 700

(gif not mine!)

“Don’t do that!” Your speedy footsteps towards the helmetless bounty hunter were nearly inaudible as you pushed him out of the doorway.

You had to tell him.

“Tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Your chin tilted down, tilting ever so slightly as a smile teased the corners of your lips.

“I just…”

If it was going to be any moment, it was going to be now.

“Din…”

“…I’m pregnant”

“That’s-“

His sentence was cut off by the sting of tears and mucus building up in his nose, a pair of glistening eyes radiating with raw joy and excitement as a beaming smile spread across his cheeks.

“I’m so fucking happy!”

“I’m gonna take care of you…”

Tearful eyes locked, switching between each other’s familiar irises and the hands pressed against your abdomen.

“…Both of you.”

174 notes · View notes

valentinesirwins · 5 years ago

Photo

Pedro Pascal photographed by Thomas Cooksey for L'Officiel Hommes (2017)

10K notes · View notes

valentinesirwins · 5 years ago

Text

songbird; pedro pascal

summary: a lil drabble entailing a soft picnic date with pedro

warnings: fluff!!

a/n: inspired by this video of pedro doin’ sign language in a park,, idk bro i just really miss summer!!

word count: 1, 300

(gif not mine!)

Recent months have been characterized by a gloomy, freezing, gray blanket covering the New York sky. It was a pattern, almost like clockwork- when winter months came around after the hottest consecutive weeks of summer, you were more than ready to cozy up inside yours and Pedro’s shared New York apartment, engulfed in the heat of faux fur blankets and a roaring artificial fireplace as a mug of coffee warmed your perpetually cold hands.

This past winter, however, felt like it had been dragging on for eons amongst eons. Everyday you would wake up with the slightest bit of hope that you would see a bit of blue sky peeking out from the carbon-colored sky, only to be met with the ominous threat of yet another storm looming over the city.

Despite the weather, the winter months were still a time of pure joy; spending time with the ones you love most, especially when they’re away most of the time filming, re-shooting, or press-touring, made it all worth it.

A morning in May was drastically different than one in December. Thick comforters and fake fires were replaced with open windows and thin sheets. Rather than the frigidity of December’s air, your skin was met with the comforting warmth of both a pair of tanned arms and the early summer’s sun seeping in through the window.

Songbirds, which had returned from their hibernation, were now your alarm clock as your ears were met with the soft symphony of May’s sweetness. Waking up before Pedro was always a given, oftentimes having to pry and peel his arms from your waist to actually get out of bed. This morning was no different, a half-asleep groan escaping from the back of his throat as your familiar warmth left the sheets.

Leaving him to snooze for a while longer, you made your way towards the kitchen, where the smell of freshly brewed coffee greeted your senses and made your chest fill with that certain sensation that let you know you were home. The routine was simple, and you had done it so many times that even the sounds of mugs tapping against each other was familiar as you filled both of them with the dark roast blend of Columbian coffee beans. Your mug, however, turned a few shades lighter as you poured in your own attunements of cream and sugar in and took the two glasses back to the shared bedroom.

Tufts of curly brown hair peeked through the duvet, morning’s sun lighting the muscles against his back and shoulders in a way that made him appear as if he were sculpted by Michelangelo himself. There was a divot in the mattress as you sat down beside him, running your fingers through the curls until you were finally greeted with a pair of familiar, earnest sepia irises.

“Mornin’” His voice cut in and out of audibility, eyes still adjusting to the brightness of the room.

“Mornin” You whispered back, pressing a kiss against his forehead before standing up from the bed and handing him the cup of black coffee.

There was a comfortable silence as you both sipped from the mugs, checking various social media sites and news articles as a part of your morning routine. The occasional meme was also shared between the two parties, whether it be pertaining to the fact that the man was never on Twitter, or the fact that there was still another few months before season 2 of The Mandalorian and the stans were starting to get restless.

“It’s a really nice day outside.” Pedro acknowledged the blue sky and sunshine visible outside the window.

Looking up from your phone, your eyes switched between Pedro and the window, taking less than a minute to come up with a plan for a beautiful New York summer day like this.

“Picnic?” You tilted your chin down, raising your eyebrows in query as you awaited your boyfriend’s response.

“Picnic.”

---

With a basket full of various cheeses, meats, breads, fruits and veggies, desserts, and a bottle of champagne, you and Pedro set out towards Central Park to enjoy a serene lunch while basking in the sun that you had missed oh-so-much.

Hand in hand, the half a mile walk felt like a mere few minutes in the company of one another. There was always something to talk about, especially around Pedro. It’s what made him so incredibly endearing in the first place- having the talent to strike up an impressively deep and intellectual conversation within the first few minutes of meeting someone. There have been multiple occasions where both you and Pedro have lost sleep all in the name of hearing each other’s own voices explain some philosophical theory as to exactly why people are the way that they are, or how time doesn’t actually exist, and so on. The man was a sucker for the arts, always in search of another interpretation of something, anything to fuel that creative flame that burned brightly within him.

His heart belonged in New York, and while at first you were apprehensive to move to the heart of the city, it only took a few weeks to fall in love with both the bright lights and the hidden gems of the city. One of those hidden gems was a clearing within the sea of trees that filled Central Park, a place that Pedro had introduced you to the first time you proposed a picnic date. It was a day almost identical to this one.

It was incredibly intimate, a hangar of tree’s shading the clearing while sunlight seeped in through the branches, warming the vibrant emerald ground. Tearing the grass from the earth was a bad habit that you had yet to kick as you and Pedro laid out the blanket and emptied the basket’s contents. The slight sting of grass blades against the damp skin of your palm was the epitome of summer to you as your arms planted themselves behind your torso, taking in every last drop of the vitamin D that drenched your being.

You know that scene in Ratatouille where Remy eats cheese and fruit for the first time together, then delves off into a deep void of the personification of flavor combinations? That’s the feeling that hit your taste buds as both you and Pedro picked at the various hors d'oeuvres spread out in front of you. The combination of meats, cheeses, fruits, and a bottle of bubbly, along with the fact that you had the pleasure of sharing something so tranquil and domestic with the love of your life, made any and every aspect of the entire world around you completely euphoric. Peaceful. Calm. It was all that the two of you needed- each other.

Both yours and Pedro’s stomachs were stuffed full as the two of you leaned your backs against the blanket, basking in both each other’s and the afternoon sun’s warmth. With one arm wrapped around your shoulder and the other tucked behind his head, you found yourself dozing off at the sound of his heartbeat as you nuzzled your head against his chest.

The breeze rustling the leaves of the trees that surrounded you two, combined with the faint sound of a familiar songbird’s tune, and the sweet, familiar, homey smell that radiated off Pedro was enough to lull you to sleep. However, before you fell unconscious, the vibration of his chest drew your head up to face the similarly content, mid-day nap ready face.

“El amor de mi vida.”

108 notes · View notes

valentinesirwins · 5 years ago

Text

m a s t e r l i s t

☼ fluff ✶ angst ✧ nsfw

marvel

“please don’t fall in love with me” bucky barnes ✶

“cozy” bucky barnes ☼

“may” sebastian stan ☼

“lovestruck” sebastian stan ☼

“episodes” sebastian stan (trigger warning) ✶

“the vow” bucky barnes ☼

“work song” bucky barnes✶

“close your eyes” bucky barnes ✶

“holidays” sebastian stan ☼

“calliope” sebastian stan ☼

“a night to remember” sebastian stan ☼✧

“cramps” sebastian stan ☼

“dream a little dream of me” 1940’s!bucky ☼ ✶

“if all was lost” bucky barnes ✶

“lindy hop” 1940’s!bucky ☼

“baby ruth” steve rogers ☼

“ghost of you” bucky barnes ✶

“central park” sebastian stan ☼

“savannah” bucky barnes ☼

“chaos” bucky barnes ✶

“black lace” sebastian stan✶✧

“date night” sebastian stan ☼✧

“sudsy” bucky barnes ☼✧

“wildfire” peter parker ✶

headcanons

“surprising sebastian on set” ☼

“telling bucky that you’re pregnant would go a little something like this” ☼

“1940′s!bucky having a crush on you would include” ☼

5sos

ashton irwin

“borrowed, blue, old, new” ☼

“you are my getaway” ☼

“woke up in japan” ☼

“delilah” ☼

why won’t you love me?

“pt. 1″ ☼ ✶

“pt. 2″ ☼ ✶

headcanons

“getting high with ash” ☼

stranger things

billy hargrove

“necklace” ✶ ☼

winter break

“pt.1″ ✶

“pt. 2″ ✶ ☼

“pt. 3″ ✶ ☼ ✧

“pt. 4″ ✶ ☼

“pt. 5″ ☼

steve harrington

“yellow walls” ✶ ☼

“necklace” ✶ ☼

“promise” ✶ ☼

“again” ☼

star wars

poe dameron

helplessly

pt. i ✶ ☼

pt. ii ✶ ☼

pt. iii ✶ ☼

the mandalorian

a love greater than love

pt. i ☼

pt. ii ☼

748 notes · View notes

valentinesirwins · 5 years ago

Text

wake-up call; the mandalorian

summary: lil wake-up call for mando and that’s all i will say

warnings: this is smUT !! male and female receiving, but hellsa fluff as well

a/n: shout out to katie for giving me this prompt and encouraging my inner wh*re,,, ily more than the moon loves the stars

word count: 1, 200

(gif not mine!)

Dawn’s sun creeped in through the window of the shack, drowning your skin in melted gold as drowsy eyelids drew open. More often than not, your hands would search the cool, empty space beside you in an attempt to find the devoid heat of the bounty hunter. It was almost always a given, the Mandalorian waking up before you, using the gentlest of maneuvers while attaching each individual piece of Beskar as to not disturb you or the Child’s rest. He would be up and ready to leave within the hour, and you would awaken, then carry on for the day with the Child, and await his return at dusk, as normal.

This morning, however, was different. Rather than a cool, empty space, your fingertips were met with the same sort of warmth that met your own skin. Draped in the morning sunlight was a sleeping Din Djarin, scarred chest rising and falling with every soft snore that escaped from slightly parted lips. Dark eyelashes rested atop his tanned cheeks; and if you looked close enough you could see the tiny freckles that littered across his marble-sculpted face, a face that was still relatively new and foreign, both to you and the Mandalorian.

The image before you was a true masterpiece- a hardened man painted into a symphony of peace and well needed, and deserved rest. You couldn’t help but feel completely and utterly enticed by the soldier, making every square inch of your body erupt in heat with literally no effort whatsoever. You knew this opportunity was once in a blue moon- getting to treat the bounty hunter to a wake-up call like no other.

Beginning at his jawline, you traced soft kisses down warm velvet skin, making sure to give a little extra love to the various scars and burns that littered his abdomen. While your lips did their rounds, your palm cupped the bulge outlined outside the charcoal lounge pants. It took less than a minute for his member to start rising, slightly twitching against the soft fabric as your pace increased.

The slight moan that escaped from the back of his throat was a symphony to your ears as your lips reached the waistband of his trousers. Slowly, you inched the fabric down his thighs and towards his ankles, settling yourself between his legs before taking his half-hard cock in one hand and his balls in the other. It only took a few strokes to get him properly hard, adjusting your dampening core against his thigh before pressing a teasing kiss against the sensitive tip.

Grunts escaped from the back of the soldier’s throat, opening his eyes to see a sight he only thought possible in dreams. Consciousness slowly returned as your tongue ran circles around his sensitive head, earning another chorus of half-awake curses from the Mandalorian. Your hand and mouth worked in unison, taking all of him in until his tip grazed the back of your throat. The slight gag that vibrated against his cock sent a storm of pleasure across his entire being, earning another gag as his hips bucked involuntarily.

The element of surprise sent the usually composed bounty hunter over the edge in a matter of minutes, already feeling his cock twitch within the warm slickness of your mouth.

“Go ahead” Your voice was nearly inaudible as you quickened your pace, raising yourself up to meet a pair of lips held between his teeth. The taste of himself on your tongue was enough to turn the star system on its axis, bucking his hips forward and against the tight clasp of your hands as your lips returned to his throbbing head.

“F-fuck”

Djarin’s moans were borderline pornographic as his seed filled your mouth, hitting the back of your throat in hot spurts. Looking up you were greeted with the sight of Din’s face twisted in pleasure, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as his hands tangled in your hair, riding out his orgasm as you swallowed every last bit of his cum, your moans vibrating against his overstimulated cock.

Pulling away, you wiped the white liquid pooling around the corner of your mouth off with a quick flick of your thumb, leaning down to blanket the gasping man in post-orgasm kisses.

That, however, didn’t last long. Almost as if his orgasm had brought him to a full state of consciousness, calloused hands wrapped around your waist and flipped you beneath him. Teeth nibbled against your bottom lip, across your jaw, down your collarbone, and towards the waistband of your underwear.

With one hand hooked around your thigh and the other pushing the soaked fabric to the side, the soldier’s hot breath lingered against your drenched core, the tip of his nose grazing ever so slightly against your sensitive clit.

There was no warning as Din’s lips wrapped around your clit, tracing circles around the bundle of nerves in a masterful pattern of maneuvers. Bolts of pure ecstasy ran through your being as your thighs went completely numb with pleasure, covering the bounty hunter’s chin in your wetness as your voice cut in and out with inaudible curses and moans.

You entered a completely other plane of nirvana when his fingers came into play, index finger hooking inside you as his mouth drew virtuosos around your clit. The arm hooked around your thigh prevented your legs from caving in from pleasure, hands tangling in dark curls as a release from the raw bliss that radiated from your being.

The Mandalorian was a master at many things, and making you writhe and moan and wriggle beneath him was one of them, and strong suit actually. His index and middle finger grazed against the spot that made the universe collapse within itself in an explosion of stardust and embers. The bounty hunter swallowed every last drop of your orgasm as your vision went white with pleasure, every square inch of your body vibrating in fervent ecstasy as you rode out each millisecond of your orgasm.

Your core was still a throbbing, soaking mess as Din pulled away, tracing wet kisses up your torso until finally reaching swollen lips. Your arms wrapped around his neck, fingers scratching against his scalp as the two souls melted into one another. In one expert maneuver, Din had secured your form within the confines of his embrace. Pressing his lips against your forehead, he savored every second of the intimacy as if time itself was made of the sweetest nectar.

You felt all tension leave his body as you pressed your form closer to his, nuzzling your face against his chest before whispering,

“Rest, my love”

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

✧*･ﾟ* - you can keep me and my work going by buying me a coffee! and it's only $3 wowie!!

1K notes · View notes

valentinesirwins · 5 years ago

Text

domesticity; the mandalorian

summary: just some tooth-rotting, HELLA in love, domestic!mando in his jammies uwu

warnings: fluff fluff fluff

a/n: this one, as always, goes out to the mandowhorians. y’all own my entire heart and i wouldn’t still be writing if it weren’t for them. i LOVE y’all love yall no cap

word count: 1, 400

(gif not mine!)

Recent days have been filled with a certain sense of what you could only describe as pure, content domesticity as your clan of three had settled on an isolated planet located somewhere near the outer rim. You weren’t sure exactly when, but after a mere few days on the planet, both you and the Child, as well as the bounty hunter- although he would never admit it, were starting to get used to the solidarity. The peace.

However, Mando couldn’t keep his feet in one place for more than an hour. So, while you were sound asleep during the early, ungodly hours of dawn, the bounty hunter would clad himself in his Beskar and start his unknown journey for the day. At one point, you had to imagine the worst-case scenario; one in which you were forced to reconcile with previous demons in exchange for the guilt that you would have never been responsible for in the first place.

Those thoughts quickly subsided at the sound of heavy footsteps approaching the small cottage that stood on the edge of the dense forest that surrounded it. The desolate planet’s two suns set over the lush horizon, drowning the interior of the home in a golden hue as the familiar sight of glimmering Beskar covered the walls in reflections of stardust.

“Welcome back” A wicker basket was held beneath your arm, resting against your hip as the Mandalorian’s mere presence made the home seem whole again.

You stood beside him, hand resting against the silver chest plate as his helmet tilted down towards iridescent eyes. “You reek, my love” You whispered to the bounty hunter, who had probably been sweating in that helmet all day. Combined with the planet’s humidity and heat, it wasn’t a pleasant smell… to say the least.

The Mandalorian let out an amused sigh as you exited the small cottage and made your way towards the linens that had been hung out to dry a few hours prior. Imagining the smile hidden behind the visor made your heart fill with warmth as you unpinned and folded the laundry into the basket.

Dusk’s warm breeze soon turn cold as you finished the last of the laundry, cool air tickling the hairs against your neck as you brought the filled basket back to your hip and lugged it back inside.

The hearth’s effects were much more noticeable within the insulated walls of the cottage as you placed the linens in their own respective places and returned the basket to its designated spot. Strands of unruly hair became loose and tickled the tops of your cheeks as you made your way towards the Child’s cot. Opening the metal doors, the sight of large fuzzy ears relaxed in a deep state of sleep brought a blanket of peace over you. After carefully tucking in the 50-year old baby, you placed a gentle kiss against its forehead and shut the cot closed before heading to the kitchen.

You hadn’t noticed the sound of running water in the background until it shut off, realizing that the Mandalorian actually heeded your words of advice as you lit the stove and stirred the pot filled with a culmination of different fresh vegetables and herbs from the local area. Most everyone, which wasn’t many, lived off the land, and both yours and the Mandalorian’s scavenging skills proved to be very useful as your time spent on the planet drew longer and longer.

The aroma of a fresh, homecooked meal brought a sense of comfort to the entire home. A sort of warmth that you had been completely devoid of, and not truly aware of how much you missed it until it enveloped you in content.

Heavy footsteps were replaced with soft thumps as they echoed down the hall, stopping directly behind you as the pot continued to simmer. Rather than the smell of dirt and burnt blasters, it was fresh linens and the familiar aroma of mahogany and embers radiating off the bounty hunter as a pair of large hands wrapped around your waist and flipped your body to face his. His perpetual heat was something you never noticed until the bounty hunter started spending less and less time in the Beskar. But now as a pair of familiar arms engulfed you in warmth, you simply couldn’t imagine a life without that heat.

“Any exciting escapades today, soldier?”

There was a pause as the bounty hunter dug his face within the crook of your neck, filling his lungs with your familiar floral scent. He could drown himself in every square inch of your being, burning every part of you into his brain as to not forget a single detail of the absolute spectacle before him. His stubble tickled the sensitive skin against your neck as his arms wrapped around the small of your back and pulled your form flush to his.

It was the moments of intimacy and domesticity, like this one, that made the entire star system completely materialize around you. It brought you peace in a time of such peril and unpredictability, and you could get more than used to that.

“What’s got you all soft, Djarin?” Your laugh was a symphony to his ears as you wrapped your arms around his neck, fingers intertwining with the damp, freshly washed curls.

“Just…”

He pulled away, the height difference prevalent as you looked up to meet a pair of hickory eyes filled with raw affection and adoration.

“…Couldn’t stop thinkin’ about you”

The words drew an intense heat towards your cheeks, a rosy hue radiating from the center of your cheeks to the tips of your ears. Calloused fingers pushed loose strands of hair behind your ear, leaving wildfire lingering with every trace of his touch. You were a beaming, giddy mess beneath him as you pressed a quick peck against his lips whispering, “Go and relax, my love” before turning back to attend to the simmering pot.

The bounty hunter’s lips pressed against your neck one last time before turning around and collapsing onto the cot in the living room, the distinction between his black pajamas and the furs and blankets lining the couch blurred. After filling the wooden bowls with what Din liked to call “nirvana in a pot”, you masterfully maneuvered two containers of hot liquid across the kitchen and into the room where almost expectedly, the bounty hunter had dozed off to sleep within the comfort of the extra bedding and roaring hearth.

You were worried that the almost inaudible laugh that escaped from the back of your throat would wake the sleeping bounty hunter, but he was out like a light. His arms folded across his chest, which rose ever so slightly with every inhale, low snores falling from slightly parted lips, eyebrows vaguely furrowed in a permanent expression of exhausted peace- the man was made of a magic that only you could see, and he was so, so beautiful.

Setting down the bowls at the end table, you sat on the edge of the cot and marveled at the perfect form beneath you. Brushing loose curls away from his face, the palm of your hand lingered against his jaw, tracing invisible circles around the stubbled skin before leaning down and pressing a gentle kiss against his forehead.

Fully expecting to see a pair of shut eyelids as you pulled away from the bounty hunter, your own eyes widened at the sight of familiar sepia irises looking back at you. Even on the verge of sleep, the Mandalorian would use every last ounce of energy left in his being just to see you.

The man was practically deadweight as your body planted itself within the curve of the bounty hunter’s front, back flush against his chest as a familiar pair of arms engulfed your entire being in warmth.

“Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum”

To hold in my heart. Forever.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

609 notes · View notes