Hnngh Did You See How Big Pedro Pascal's Fingers Are In His Latest Instagram Post? I'd Love To See You

Din + hands (#for science) 

bonus:

Seeking Serenity

summary: Mando, overcome with anxiety in the aftermath of a risky event, needs you to bring him back to reality—and asks for much more along the way.

pairing: din djarin (the mandalorian) x gn!reader

warnings: anxiety attack, angst, hurt/comfort, references to death/violence, fluff

rating: T

word count: 2.953k

main masterlist • din djarin masterlist

Nothing has frightened you more than the sound of a Mandalorian’s voice breaking.

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RAZOR CREST | THE MANDALORIAN - SEASON 2

Zabrak Show Masterlist

Here is my collection of fanfic I’ve written. Almost all of it is Maul-centric.

To join the taglist fill this form out.

 Summaries and warnings are at the top of each post.

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Kairkiyc

The Mandalorian x Reader

Word Count: 5,907 k

Rating: Explicit

Warning: smut, porn with a little plot, okay it's a lot; overstimulation, multiple orgasm, edging, fingering, penetration, breeding kink, squirting but only if you squint, Mando has big cock syndrome

Based on the “Mommy Milkers Mando” post, I put way too much effort into this and it’s pure filth, read at your own risk, if you guys like it let me know and maybe I’ll turn it into a series lol

***

You'd been traveling with Mando for over three months.

During that time, all of which you spent scrubbing the floor of the Razor Crest and fixing the antique back to working conditions, you'd grown accustomed to the presence of both the bounty hunter and the small green creature under his care. When you asked about it all Mando gave you for an explanation was that the "child" was a foundling and that it was under his care. As if that was good enough to answer your question. Before he was walking off to go on another hunt.

Most of the times he took the child with him, and on a few rare occasions, like today, he'd leave it behind with you. Mando said he'd be back in a few hours. But even the little green alien grew restless inside the confines of the cockpit the longer that time went by. Mando was never this late. In fact even when he came close to being late it was usually within minutes of his estimated arrival. But it had been six extra, long and dragged out hours, since he told you he'd be back. You knew it wasn't your place to question him, after all you where only the hired help, and Mando rarely told you much anyway.

Your job was to take care of the child and not interfere with the Mandalorian's job, it was as simple as that. "Maybe I should go look for him," Yet here you where worrying about him as if he needed you to. "Well?" You looked down at the child for some sign of an agreement, casting its massive eyes up at you expectantly. He opened his tiny mouth, yawning in exhaustion, seemingly worn out from keeping up with your constant chatter. You laughed quietly as he blinked tiredly at you, "Come on, little one. Let's get you to bed."

-

You where stressing out now. It's not like Mando hadn't gone on long hunts before, this wasn't something new after all, sometimes you'd even gone days without seeing him. But what distinguished this from the other times, was the fact that he'd usually tell you how long I'd take him to come back. You stood up, dusting off your pants to come up with a backup plan if Mando didn't return in the next twenty minutes. But almost as soon as you decided against the idea, figuring Mando could handle himself, the hatch of the ship opened and Mando strode in with the bounty blabbering about a bargain not far behind. "Please I can pay-"

The poor idiot didn't stand a chance, couldn't even finish his sentence before Mando was shoving him in carbonite. He didn't anticipate how long this would take him either, didn't expect the bounty to put up a surprisingly good fight. And despite him being done with the job, bounty frozen in carbonite, his shoulders where tense with something near frustration as you walked towards him. He seemed more wound up than he'd ever been in the short time you knew him, and something about that made you uneasy. "What happened?"

This close, the lights where giving you perfect visibility of his disheveled state. For starters his chest armor along with the shoulder pads where discarded on the floor, as he sat hunched over on one of the crates littered in the ships hull. The arm guards where still connected to his forearms, and the yellow gloves remained attached to each individual finger. But despite this being the most exposed you'd seen Mando, aside from the day you caught a glimpse of one of his wrist, this wasn't what struck out the most.

It was the state of the clothing beneath, which was nearly falling off his chest, like something had somehow melted off the fabric. There was practically more holes than there was fabric, patches of flesh peaking out through the wide openings which left him completely exposed. "Xenoboric acid, the beskar kept it off my skin for the most part." He answered you without you having to ask him first, and then you realized maybe you where ogling him too much, too intently that he took notice and snapped you out of your trance.

"Are you hurt?" He was quiet, like he had to think about it. As if he suddenly remembered that maybe he was hurt. "Not that bad,"  he reached behind him, where his cape usually covered the broad expanse of his shoulders. "It's all mostly on my back, and I can't reach back there." You should have crushed the thought before it grew in your head, spreading like a wildfire that burned on the tip of your tongue until the words came rushing out trying to escape. "Maybe I can help you, if you'd like."

He gave you a nod, sitting upright into what you assumed was a comfortable positing for him. You grabbed the nearby medpac and went around to see how bad the damage was, not sure if he even had a shirt covering him in the first place with how much the acid ate away. "Would you mind if I cut this off? It's only going to get in the way." He handed you his vibroblade in response, and with careful gentle tugs you managed to cut off the remaining fabric.

"Is it bad?" It really wasn't bad. The few minor burns looked mildly irritated, the skin barely flushed in reaction. But your sudden reaction of shock upon seeing how many scars he had could have been mistaken for a "shit this is bad" sign. You cleared your throat, grabbing the bacta spray and slowly covering the blotchy spots on his skin. "Not at all."

Maker his skin was nice. Despite the many scars, and  the lingering bruises from previous hunts, you couldn't help but admire him. The strong muscles of his shoulders, the prominent back dimples, and the constellations of moles and freckles littered on his skin. You wanted to kiss every single one. Map out exactly where they where and trace them every single day so you wouldn't forget them. Your finger squeezed the spray a little too hard, and this seemed to catch Mando off guard because you could practically see the shiver as it ran down his spine.

"Sorry it's just," he paused, unsure if he should admit it to himself that he was enjoying this as much as you where. "It's been so long since I've had human contact." Somehow those where the wrong words to us, or maybe in a way it was the right one. Because it made you run your index finger across one of his scars, slowly trailing it down his spine , and then pausing before moving up to the dip between his shoulder blades. He sighed when your hand came to a stop on his shoulder, bringing his own gloved hand to rest on top of your fingers. "I was so worried you wouldn't come back this time."

He didn't push your hand away, or pull you closer, almost like he was reaching some unknown limit you didn't know about. For you this this wasn't new, by any means, because it was nothing explicitly out of the ordinary. But for Mando? This was too intimate, to close to what the creed said was wrong, and for the first time he wondered why exactly it was so wrong in the first place. Why he should push you away instead of considering that for a moment he shouldn't. "I know."

He wasn't blind, or oblivious to the shy glances you'd given him in the three months you'd spent together. How he'd notice the glint in your eyes when you saw him come back from a hunt. He wouldn't lie and say he hadn't thought of you either. Hadn't suppressed his feeling that had somehow rooted themselves since the moment he met you, Hadn't wished that the fingers currently trailing his skin where replaced with something else.

The grip on your hand tightened, and he didn't bother to notice how his arm was tugging you forward until you'd come around to face him. Slowly, like some sort of forbidden game, he pulled you into his lap, hands feeling for your warmth as they gripped your legs and touched anywhere they could. He wanted this, he wanted you. And it seemed you where both tired of pretending like you didn't.

You took the opportunity to kiss his neck, bitting lightly at the exposed patch of sensitive skin. While he worked on removing your pants, you let the back of one of your hands tease the front of his own and felt thrilled to find him hard and prominent against his zipper. A frustrated sound came from your throat when he began unbuttoning the front of your shirt. "Don't worry about undressing me. Stop wasting time and just fuck me already, I’ve waited long enough."

"Someone sounds eager," Mando replied, bending his knees to grind himself against the slit between your legs. "Were you really waiting for me this long? You could've just told me what you wanted sooner." You gasped at his actions. "I thought I dropped enough hints," you said voice shaking as you let out a sigh, stretching further across his lap when one of Mando's hands snuck inside you shirt to rub and pinch one of your nipples.

You'd  barely just begun, but you where already terribly aroused, face flushed with excitement, the skin at the back of your neck shimmering with a fine layer of sweat. You already told him what he wanted to hear, but this was something different and new to you both, crackling with tension, ripe with desire. You didn't just want him. You needed him, hungered for him in a way that only Mando could satisfy.

There wasn't really a need for him to give shape to the words that you where thinking, but he leaned in close to your ear anyway, whispering his answer through modulated beskar on your skin. "You mean the look you always gave me, like you might die if I didn't give you my cock. Is that it?" He ran his gloved fingers up the front of your panties just to watch the way your face twisted as you fought to withhold a most immodest expression.

"...I couldn't ask you, every time I wanted to bring it up I just couldn't, which just made me want to hold you down in one place, for you to hold me down, to fuck– I don't know." You bit down on your bottom lip and leaned back, presenting yourself to the bounty hunter, tits spilling out of your shirt slick with sweat and flushed pink. "I didn't have anything else to do so it was all I could think about."

"I desperately wanted you and yet I never brought myself to make a move." You flexed your thighs anxiously, unconsciously even, as you waited for Mando to touch you, to do something. Under your hand, he felt so hard that you knew it must have been getting uncomfortable to stay trapped in his clothes. It took Mando a lot of fortitude to keep himself from carelessly tearing the rest of his clothes off himself, the things you said bringing life to something dangerously primal in him.

"Please" you didn't care about sounding needy, rolling your head against your own shoulder, head thrown back, looking up at Mando with lust clouded eyes. "I'm so wet right now, I feel like I might come if you so much as put your hands on me again. You'll take responsibility for this, won't you? It's your fault, after all for making me wait this long."

Mando swallowed, watching your arousal drip down your thighs. To test you, he ran his thumb up your thigh and nearly groaned when you shivered, your body jerking in response. The way you stiffened, it looked like you really where trying to keep yourself from coming. And Mando didn't want you to come before he even gave you what you really wanted, so he immediately went to work on his own pants and pushed them down just enough to free his cock. "Mando I don't care if it hurts, just please, hurry."

"I do, though," Mando said. He wasn't the type who liked to toot his own horn, but fitting his cock in you would be a physical impossibility without lubrication and the proper preparation. You wouldn't be the only one he would be hurting if he tried to slam the unlubricated girth of it in you all at once. Thankfully, you took him seriously, relaxing on his lap momentarily.

He put his hands on the backs of your knees to get you to stay where you where. With your legs pushed apart, Mando found it easy to slide in his first finger. You made a sound in the back of your throat and your thighs clamped together so suddenly that you might've fallen off his lap had Mando not grabbed you with his other hand. "What's wrong?" he asked, stroking your hip.

"I was serious when I said I might come. Don't do more than you have to."

Gently, he nudged your legs apart again and added a second finger, pushing them in slowly to open you up. After he withdrew them, he added a third for good measure. Two may have been enough, but a third never hurt when he knew that his cock would pose a much greater strain on your body.

As he moved his wrist and curled his fingers as much as he could inside your incredible tightness, you reached down and squeezed your fingers around the base of his cock. The buckles on his loosened belt jingled as his shoulders tensed in arousal at the sudden contact. "Please," you muttered, dipping your head low enough to press you forehead against his collarbone.

When Mando removed his fingers, the sigh that you gave sounded like one of relief. Mando moved back for a few seconds to appreciate the sight before him. The position you where in wouldn't require much adjustment. He could just lift you up a little, and it would perfectly line his cock up to your entrance. So he did just that. Grabbing you by your waist, he lifted you up slightly and pulled you back down, lifting your hips upward to provide Mando with a sufficient angle. You sighed in response and wiggled your hips, glancing up at his visor with an irresistibly needy look.

He stopped to remove his gloves, while you continued to watch as Mando took himself in his hand and applied some of the slick arousal between your legs on his fingers like lubricant to his cock. He stroked it, covering himself thoroughly, then pulled his hand away to hold your waist, and readied himself at your entrance. Nudging his cock against your slick entrance, he applied some light pressure and continued to move his hips forward slowly until your body relaxed enough to allow the head to slip inside.

A hiss escaped from between his clenched teeth as he slowly sunk deeper inside and you kept watching. You didn't quite get a good look at it but you where almost certain Mando wasn't even halfway in, somehow, everything was proportionally bigger all of a sudden. He pulled back, feeling the tight pull of your body around every inch of his cock. Then he pushed back in again, going all the way to the base, when he heard you give a surprised yelp and-

"Did you come already?" Your entire back stiffened, but Mando could feel it, the intense pulsations around his cock, felt the backs of your thighs quivering against his own. You buried your head down, refusing to answer, but when Mando reached down and put his fingers around you clit, there was no mistaking it. "And you're still this wet."

Your nails dug into his shoulders burying your face in the crook of his neck to hide his embarrassment. "I told you," you said, sounding muffled. "I knew I wasn't going to be able to hold on." That made him wonder, though. Your arousal didn't seem to be waning in the least, so he wondered if he could assume that you wanted more. "Is it alright if I keep going? You feel even tighter than before, but I'm definitely willing to give you more if that's what you want."

"I won't do anything to stop you," you said, loud enough to catch Mando's attention. "Keep going 'til you're satisfied." Now that he had your expressed permission, he wasn't going to hold back. But as Mando told you, your felt even tighter after you came, your muscles all clenching down around him to hold him inside. It took him a few awkward thrusts before you started to loosen up again, to relax around him, but then it was just right.

It felt incredible inside of you. He already got some of your cum on his hand, so he reached down and lightly massaged his slick fingers back and forth around your clit in slow circular motions. You couldn't help the moan that left you and when you pushed back to meet one of his thrusts, Mando felt his cock twitch inside you.

"You're really raring to go," he said, appreciating the bundle of nerves shiver your entrance with firm, smooth strokes of his fingers. You moved in response meeting another one of his thrusts, taking him so deep that your thighs met snugly with Mando's own. Every thrust drew a pleased sigh from you and his breath seemed to hitch whenever he angled his thrusts upward. With how tight you where, it was a bit difficult to angle himself without moving you around too much, but his width seemed to make up for it. It was like every push drove his cock over your sweet spot in the position he held you in his lap.

You had assumed most of the control. Even though Mando was the one holding your waist, you where the one doing most of the work, pressing yourself down against his cock to drive his shallow thrusts deeper. Your pace was slow, pleasurable, but once Mando realized the effect he was having on you, he wanted to see how much you would be able to take.

Mando put both hands on you waist and pressed in hard, eliciting a bright gasp from your parted lips. "There?" he asked, repeating the motion, receiving the same reaction. You panted hard and stretched your arms out to grasp the sides of his thighs. Mando pulled your hips up a little higher, lifting your feet right off the floor so that he could take full control.

"M-more," you gasped, voice breaking. You cleared your throat and tried again. "Please... Mando. Harder. Give me more."

Mando could tell that he was nearing his own limits already, yet it looked far from over for you. After another few well-timed jabs of his cock, he felt your walls squeezing around him again, threatening to draw his orgasm from him as you endured your second. When the pressure surrounding him became almost too much to take, he pulled out. He made sure to keep his hands on your waist to keep you from falling as he shivered through his climax and gently helped you move to the floor so that you could lay more comfortably on your back without any support. As he turned your over, he caught a glimpse of the mess he made on your thighs, his own cum dribbling down obscenely to your entrance and felt his breath catch and his cock respond with interest as well.

When the shaking in your thighs subsided, you took a deep breath and lifted a hand to push the sweat from your forehead. You looked down your body at Mando, cheeks flushed a passionate red, and your eyes slowly traveled down his body; from his helmet, over his heaving chest, down to his cock that still jutted attentively.

You eyed it thoughtfully, then started to impatiently tug at your shirt. Mando chuckled softly, amused by your fruitless struggling, and decided to help you. The shirt was quickly pulled off and discarded into the hull of the crest, along with the rest of your clothes. When that all was removed, you laid back languidly and parted your legs wider for him, lifting your knees up with your hands. Your arousal had finally begun to subside but you stroked your fingers over your own entrance gently, sighing when you touched the too-sensitive spot where Mando had stretched you open. "Go on," you said with a slight tilt of your head.

"You really want more?" Mando asked. His cock begged him to shut up and not question your decision. You curled one of your fingers, beckoning him closer seductively. He couldn't argue with that, his cock hard again in an instant while he dropped down to his knees. Mando returned to his place between your legs and positioned himself, then slowly pushed inside as he sunk down into your embrace.

Mando did a good job of pretending to be relaxed, but he could feel the desperation in your embrace. You clung to him with your arms thrown loosely around his neck, as Mando wrapped his own around your waist, his arm guards digging into your skin. Your legs slid easily around his waist with the way you where laying on your back, and even though it probably wasn't the most comfortable of places for you to lay, it was extremely easy for Mando to thrust into you from there.

The additional lubricant from both of your cum mixed together was exactly what he needed. Perhaps it was the lube, perhaps it was just your body becoming more accommodating – whatever it was, he found it a lot easier to piston his hips, encountering no resistance from within. You wrapped your legs around his waist more tightly, holding him against you in a way that kept his thrusts short. Despite the fact you already came twice, it wasn't too long before you where close again, your breathing having gone ragged long before then. Mando glanced down and had to still himself for a moment, worried that he would come on the spot when he saw the look on your face.

You weren't even trying to hide how good it felt anymore. Your pleasure was on open display; face red all over, eyelids half-closed, your lower lip held between your teeth as you moaned softly whenever Mando grazed that spot inside your with the head of his cock. You must've realized what an irreparable mess you where because you didn't even look away when you noticed Mando looking at you. Any slight touch to his skin made you shiver, so it seemed that he may have already gone beyond his limit, but Mando was curious just how long you intended to keep going.

One thing was for sure, though. Mando wasn't going to be able to last – not when he had you underneath him, looking like you needed his cock more than anything else in the galaxy. "I'm close," he warned, planting his hands on you shoulder, pushing lightly to try and separate you. "Shit, if you don't let go of me, I'm going to come inside of you."

You didn't seem concerned. "Coming inside feels good though, doesn't it?" You took a breath through your nose and your nostrils flared as a devilish grin stretched across your lips. "I know you want to."

With your legs locked around his waist, he didn't have much choice. Mando was definitely strong enough to pry you off if he really tried – if he really wanted to – but his body had other plans. You dug your nails into his shoulders and pulled him down to press your heaving chest against his own, and any noises he made were muffled inside the helmet. You gave a few very nice rolls of your hips that caught Mando off guard and managed to pull his climax from him. He felt your heels pressing into the small of his back to keep him in as far as he could go, felt you quivering under him as he released deep, deep inside of you.

"M-Mando," you whimpered, your body trembling as Mando tried to extract himself from your strong grip. After he was able to push your knees back so he could straighten up, he looked down and noticed an amount of clear fluid pooling in between your legs, a bit of it still dripping down the side of your thighs. "Did you...?" he asked.

You pushed a hand through your hair and looked aside. "N-no... I didn't come, if that's what you're asking. I mean – I don't think this counts, does it?" You asked, running fingers on the damp skin on your legs. "It felt like you were pushing it out of me every time you stuck your dick in me. Look at this." He managed to removed the armor on his forearms, bringing his hands up to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. "If I'm not mistaken, it looks to me like your body's asking for more."

You looked up at him from under your lowered lids with interest, but still seemed skeptical. "You aren't even hard anymore, how much longer can you keep this up," You knew Mando was somewhat on the older side, and yet somehow you didn't expect this amount of stamina to come from someone like him. "Not a problem. I already got you nice and wet, didn't I?" He could tell that you had something else to say, but your words stopped in your throat when Mando plunged two of his fingers back into your slick hole. "Hm? Were you going to say something?"

One of your hands shot down to squeeze Mando's wrist in an attempt to desperately ward off your orgasm. Your mouth moved as if to form words, only to make soundless little protest, seemingly more concerned about avoiding your climax more than anything else.

"Does it feel that good?" Mando asked, angling his wrist, rubbing his fingers firmly inside of you. You let your head fall back against the floor and whined, but still refused to answer. It was obvious what the answer was anyway. It felt so good that you never wanted it to end. As Mando watched his own cum come dripping from your abused entrance he wondered how much more you could take.

"How about a third?" he asked, slipping his fingers from you for a second to join them with another a second later. Immediately, you constricted around him tightly and cried out, finally using your voice to beg Mando to slow down. He could have, really he should have, but the slick combination of his cum and mixed with your juices made it too easy to slide his fingers in and out of you. "Two fingers aren't enough to satisfy you anymore, are they?" He turned his wrist and when he attempted to spread his three fingers apart, your knees shook, like you might try to run away from the unavoidable pleasure.

Mando put his free hand on your waist to hold you down and pushed his fingers inside roughly, as deeply as he could send them. You tried, really you did try to keep yourself from coming, but it was too much for you to control. This time, your third was a lot less powerful than the others and much less potent with only a small amount of arousal coating Mandos fingers at your entrance.

He slipped his fingers out of you and you whimpered at the loss, looking... almost disappointed that he would stop now. Yet when Mando reached up and massaged those same fingers around your clit, you jumped like you'd been stung. "Too sensitive now?" he asked, rubbing his thumb around your folds. You clawed at the surface of the floor and turned your head to the side, gasping weakly as he continued to torment him with his firm touch. "Do you want me to stop? Three times seems like enough."

When he removed his hand, your hands shot out to catch his wrist. You looked like you where going through some kind of difficult internal struggle, unsure whether it felt good or if it hurt. If you wanted more, to take anything and everything Mando could give you, or if it was time for you to stop. "Tell me what you want sweetheart." Mando asked again, sliding his palms lightly over your inner thighs, watching you try and remember how to even speak basic.

He placed his fingertips over your entrance and waited. Watching as you pushed yourself up onto your elbows and moved to look down at what Mando was doing. You took deep breaths through your nose and your eyes were wide, intent, as if you were in a trance, crazed with the desire for more regardless of whatever the common sense part of your brain told you. Slowly, Mando stroked his fingers over your entrance again while he watched you, equally mesmerized by the way you where reacted to him.

Once he pushed his fingers back inside, your shoulders immediately sank back on the floor, back arched, with a loud cry of pleasure tearing from within you. Mando was impressed that you could make any sound at all. For a while there, he thought you might've even lost your voice.

You squirmed around on his fingers, their thick and long length stretching you differently than his cock did, sometimes taking them deeper, making Mando wonder if you where trying to get more or trying to get away. Eventually, Mando stopped trying to figure out which it was, concluding that it must've been a bit of both. Either way, he was confident that there wouldn't be anything left in you. It was surprising that you already managed to come three times, but now that you had reached this point, he had to keep going. He was too curious to find out what might happen if you came again.

Sometime during the time it took him to pleasure you with his fingers he'd grown hard again. The tip of his cock oozing precum that rolled down in thick beads to the base of his balls. He was completely stiff above you, unmoving while you remained trapped beneath him in your fucked out state. And just as you opened your mouth to say something, he was pushing in, and oh kriff, you hadn't gotten a good look at his cock this whole time. With this new angle it felt huge as he pushed his way in, splitting you again you deep inside you it drove you dizzy.

It burned, it burned as he slid all the way in again, and maker you could feel it when he pressed down on your hips, and it felt so good, felt so full. That you heaved a gasp once Mando was rooted deep in you, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. "Good-" He gasped, voice strained even through the modulator, "So fucking good, sweetheart."

Maker, it nearly hurts with how fucking good it feels. The noise you make is indescribable in its obscenity—desperate and long and seeking. Fuck, this is heaven. This is fucking heaven, laying with your legs open and letting him have you this way. He knows as much about you as you do about him—which is to say, absolutely nothing—but now you both know the taste of each other's pleasure, the intimate knowledge of its gorgeous heat and how right it feels.

"M-Mand... oh, fuck—" Your words are barely discernible through your panting, warped by the heavy sound of your breaths and gasps. "Can—Can we do this, again," His fingers curl against your thighs, and your hips almost feel like they're doing too much, muscles tightening and refusing to loosen and relax. "Maybe not right now but, soon?"

But then you nearly combust when instead of verbally responding, the Mandalorian just sinks two of his thick fingers deep inside your cunt, joining the cock still buried deep inside you. "Oh—f-fuck—"

You can't tell if the short, rough little growl he makes inside the helmet is from the way you instantly tighten around his cock again, but it still rocks down to your core nonetheless. It doesn't matter, because he pulls them out and then pushes them back in again, starts doing that steadily, over and over until you're sweating, hips arching up in presentation and doing everything you could to entice him to hurry the fuck up.

And somehow it works, because suddenly he starts moving faster, a litany of praises spilling from his lips, gasping at the increase in pressure inside you, eyes carefully on your face to any sign that you wanted out. But fuck, your head was drowning in pleasure, as you chased your fourth orgasm. And you began to roll your hips back, forward, meeting his deep thrusts wherever you could feel them.

Something wicked begins to burn in your core, spread threateningly along the muscles in your pelvis. It rises up through your abdomen and sinks down to your knees, wrapping so tightly around them around them you fear the muscles could snap. Your breathing gets shallower, the base of your lungs too cramped by the oncoming storm to fill properly.

"—I-I'm gonna cum," you breathe, everything inside you quickly pulling up fierce and tight, your chest heaving and your grip in his shoulders turning to iron. "—Oh, fuck, I'm g-gonna cum—I-I—" His fingers curl, pressing up hard against something absolutely fucking devastating inside you, and it's all you can do to stifle a sober

It didn't matter just how overwhelming it all was- the overstimulation of your previous orgasms, you needed it. Mando was pounding into you now, and all you could hear was the obscene sounds of where skin met skin, of your moans, of his soft whispered "sweetheart’s" and other reverent praise. You were quickly rolling towards your orgasm, peaking high and you keened, back arching as you finally came the way you wanted, pussy dripping cum as you clenched around Mando, dragging him over the edge with you as you milked his cock.

Things slowly return to you one by one; the angle of his fingers still pressing up tight inside you. The coldness of beskar on the back of your thighs, the solid weight of it crushing down on your body. Your fingers are clamped so tight in his skin, you think they leave deep red marks when you finally loosen them. He slowly pulls out of your swollen heat and holds your thigh open with wet fingers.

You feel flattened. Exhaustion is an incredible inhibitor, so much that you don't realize your eyes are screwed shut when he's pulling away from you. The brightness of the cockpit returns, the air almost feeling fresh in your lungs. You're still trying to calm your breathing when a gentle softness presses against your lips, knuckles dragging against them in a way you can only describe as a makeshift kiss. “You need to rest, then maybe we can work up to five.”

drabble with mando + breeding 👀

utter filth for you, my love 💜

f!reader cw: explicit, 18+, unprotected p in v, excessive cum play, breeding kink of course, baby mention

He won't say it—not yet. It's too soon, too early in your relationship, and you both have implants.

But you know he's obsessed.

Din is obsessed with fucking you full and then doing it again, spilling inside you until it leaks out around the fat base of his cock. Until a thick, hot trickle slips down the curve of your ass and leaves a sticky spot on the sheet underneath you. Until your pussy is a little sore from taking the girth of him over and over—hard, because that's how he needs to give it to you.

He doesn't say it, won't make a demand, but he insists on keeping you tucked under him for a while, even after. For as long as you allow it, he keeps his face buried in your neck, sucking sweet kisses under your ear, petting you like you're something precious. Soft inside you, his solid weight a grounding presence, he relaxes on top of you to keep his cum where it belongs.

Eventually, reluctantly, he pulls away. He drops back to his heels and pushes your thighs open and up, dipping his head to admire the sight of it, the gloss where it wells at your entrance. There's a specific wistful groan you've come to recognize—a sound square between deep satisfaction and unspoken desire.

He's looking at something so close to what he really wants.

And even then, he uses his fingers, slick and gentle, to catch the rogue milky drops and press them back inside you, humming low in filthy contentment as he puts it back in its rightful place.

Sometimes, once he's satisfied with his work, he ducks his head to kiss you there, where you're full of him. As if to claim...that's mine.

No, he won't say it yet.

But you know Din will fuck a baby into you the very moment you ask.

You

Pairings: Din Djarin x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 3.4k

Warnings: smut, no y/n, minor mentions of blood, fluff, oral sex (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), vaginal sex, established relationship, mild hurt/comfort, Grogu is the cutest, Din loves his mesh’la

A/N: Another soft!Din piece because I can’t get enough of him. Hope you enjoy :)

Summary: You were used to him being gone for a couple weeks at a time, and even though this would be his longest trip yet, you didn’t want him to see the sadness that weighed on your heart. He turned to leave but before you could stop yourself you blurted it out, not with great urgency, more like a plea. “Be careful.” He froze, his back still turned to you. Not knowing what to do you spoke again, now just above a whisper. “Please.”

-

“Shit!”

You drop your tools and instinctively bring your finger to your lips to sooth the pain, and soon you taste iron. When you pull your hand away you see a small bead of crimson on your knuckle. Nothing too bad, just punishment for letting your mind drift elsewhere.

You hear a soft whine behind you and turn to see the child staring at you, his head tilted with concern.

“I’m ok,” you assure him and wiggle your fingers. “Just a small one.”

You stretch your arms out in an invitation and he excitedly waddles towards you. When you scoop him into your lap he immediately goes for your injured finger, grabbing it with his three fingers to inspect. The sweet act of concern makes you giggle.

He looks at you with those big black eyes and you raise an eyebrow. “Healing not your area of expertise?” you joke.

You set him down to place your tools back in the toolbox and stand to store them where they belong. When you turn back to the little green boy he’s smiling at you, eyes drooping slightly.

“About time for bed, don’t you think?”

Keep reading

THE MANDALORIAN: SEASON 2 ↳  MING NA WEN  as  FENNEC SHAND

Terms and Conditions

Pairing: Triple Frontier Dudes x F!Reader (except Tom obvs) Words: 5.5K Warnings: Rough smut. Cum eating. Semi-public sex. Dirty talk. Poly-ass relationship vibes. PTSD. Ass Play. Spit. SORRY. Wall sex. Pool Sex. Laundry Room Sex. Door Sex. We out here. Summary: Santi makes you play a game. A/N: same universe as Bloom. Idk if it's physically possible to keep this much cum inside you but we play fast and loose with facts on this here ole blog baby

It keeps happening.

You’re back on home ground. You’re back to paved streets and errands and bar hopping. You all sit around a table - the same one you always do. The bar is cloying - alcohol sweet with its sticky floors and unwashed bathrooms.

The air is hot - thick with tension as you try to act normal - act fine. Every one of them had been inside you - had licked your pussy and made you cum so often you can still taste it in the back of your throat.

You’d avoided them long enough. You’d needed some time as soon as the plane landed back in the states.

You weren’t upset. You weren’t sad.

You were just confused and a little embarrassed.

Now, all four of them are staring at you - their eyes leaving prints across your skin. Will is a hot mass of muscle beside you - his arm rubbing against your own as you shift in your seat. You have a beer in front of you and you touch the condensation - circle the bottle in your hands. You want to press it to your fevered brow - your cheek. You’re flaring with the memory of them.

“Sweetheart,” Pope murmurs and it makes you peer up at him. His eyes are dark - genuine - sparked with something. His voice is edged, matching the tone he used when he’d lifted you up against the shower wall and made you shatter on his length.

You bite down on your tongue - digging your nails into your thigh before Will stops you - folding his large hand over yours and squeezing. He meets your startled gaze head-on. His face bare and handsome.

“Are you alright?”

“Not really.”

Benny’s brow wrinkles. He scrubs at his bearded jaw. “We don’t have to talk about it.”

Frankie nods - fixing his hat as he regards you with concern. “We can forget it happened. We did what we had to do. We don’t - fuck - none of us see you differently.”

It’s not that. It’s not.

“We love you,” Pope finishes. Your belly clenches at that blunt remark. He’d confessed it so easily and yet you don’t know if it is rubbed in the flavor that you want - if he means it like friends or -

You shove the heels of your hands against your eyes.

“Hey,” Will soothes as he strokes your waist - the naked skin between the waistband of your jeans and the bottom of your t-shirt. “Hey - look nothing has changed.”

“Yes, it has,” you snap back. You’re close to laughing at this point - close to losing it. Tears prick behind your lids and fuck you’d absolutely die if you broke down in front of them.

“Was it really all that bad?” Benny asks in an effort to lighten the mood.

“Dude," Pope exclaims while Will elbows Benny's ribs.

Was it bad? Was it? No. Not at all. It was the most pleasure you’d ever felt in your whole damn life.

“No,” you admit reluctantly as you finally look at them straight - chin angled up and your shoulders set. You can’t lie to them. You can’t avoid them for the rest of your life. “It wasn’t bad.”

Frankie cocks an eyebrow before he reaches for your wrist - gently winding his fingers around the bones. “So what’s the problem, bonita?”

You swallow thickly. Fuck it.

“Because I want it again.”

***

It’s a 4th of July barbecue at one of Benny’s gym friend’s houses. It’s pretty packed. A lot of liquor. A lot of food. All of you together.

It’s been two months since you’d told them you wanted more - wanted them like you’d had them in that safehouse. They’d answered you by driving you back to Will’s and splitting you apart. You had shaken with the number of climaxes they'd rocked into you. The bruises. The stretch. The fact that every hole had been filled until you couldn't walk afterward. They'd scrubbed you clean - gingerly smoothing the marks they'd burned you with until you were ready to go again. They were inside you - engraved in your flesh and your tissue and the fleshy curve of your heart.

It hadn’t let up. It had only continued. Weeks packed with constant sex and a damn honey-sweet intimacy that had molded and carved your connection into something entirely new. It’s a hurricane - it’s chaos. You don’t really establish rules. You just go with it and it seems to have worked so far.

The party today would be another test - another event where you circled each other - waiting to nip or touch or taste. You had to play it cool - play it like you always have. These men are your partners - they are in your blood - riding it out as you pulse in time with each of them. It’s cosmic - it’s delicious - but it’s also highly fucking frowned upon by society’s standards. You don’t want Mary Greene from down the street clutching her pearls because Santi can’t stop kissing your neck when Frankie’s got his hand on your ass.

No one would understand and it’s not like you could blame it on a breeding drug that had made you require orgasms to fucking live. Nope. No.

You’d texted the group with clear directions:

You: No PDA at this thing.

Ironhead: Whatever you say.

Fish: Sure.

Benny: Not even a little touching?

You: No. These are my terms if you want to fuck afterward.

Benny: Fine.

Pope: You’re so cruel.

You think it’s peachy. It’s all settled.

You think that up until you pull up to the curb of the house.

It starts as soon as you step out of the passenger seat of Frankie’s truck. You can feel their eyes on you - burning across your bare arms and legs. You’re in a gauzy sundress - your flimsy swimsuit underneath.

Santi gapes at you before yelling: “Deals off.”

He marches right up to you, pinning you to the car door - the scent of him making you a tad delirious.

“Princesa,” Santi growls - his lips brushing over your ear as he wraps you up in a hug that transcends friendliness. “You really trying to kill us with that outfit?”

“Only a little,” you say - plastering an innocent smile across your face. “Also - it’s a pool party. What the hell else was I going to wear?”

“You’re gonna get it,” he drawls - subtly drifting his hand beneath your dress to cup your pussy through your bikini bottoms.

“Santi,” you hiss - your thighs clenching around his hand. “There are people.”

“We can be discreet, babe,” Benny points out from over Santi’s shoulder. “We’re kind of trained for that shit.”

You roll your eyes. “We can wait until after, you sex fiends.”

“Nah,” Santi says. “I think we could do it here - I think we could manage.”

“You’re serious?” you glance at Frankie and Will who are watching Pope practically finger fuck you against Frankie’s truck. He runs his knuckle over your covered slit - pushing into you. It’s out in the open - it’s under the hot beat of the sun and this is fucking dangerous.

“We haven’t had you in a while,” Frankie answers - quiet but still hungry. “I miss that sweet little - “

“Hey Mike!” you call out - shoving at Santi’s chest. He doesn’t even startle, just slowly turns around to glare at the poor guy who’s walking up the path to the house.

Fucking Mike,” Frankie grunts under his breath as if the guy had stumbled into you on purpose. Mike waves back before slowly dropping it to his side - paling at the way Pope is glaring at him.

You smooth your sundress over your thighs - fixing your hair behind your ears.

“Let’s go,” you tell him - them. “We can fuck after.”

But - as soon as you brush past Santi, his hand shoots out - gripping your arm and yanking you back to him. He catches your face between his palms before he crushes his lips to yours - his tongue wet and desperate as he pushes it into your mouth.

He releases you as quickly as he caught you - making you trip into his chest. His lips split into a blinding grin - smug as ever. “I think we should play a game, princess.”

Santi’s abrupt princess punches you somewhere soft. It doesn’t have that smooth, silky finish when he uses princesa or preciosa or querida. It’s because he’s not seducing - he knows he already has you.

You could say no. You could and they’d grumble but inevitably agree. They’d probably punish you later for it, but still - the boys would never do shit to you that you didn’t ask for or want.

You glance up at Santi - the silver around his hairline dripping into his black curls. His lips are sticky with your gloss.

“What are the rules?” you bite.

**

Your arms scrape across the gritty cement that surrounds the pool as you float against the side of it. It’s really too hot today - stifling. The water is cool though - it’s nice and pleasant. The smell of chlorine - the oily coconut balm of your lotion. Smoke from the barbecue wafts through the air - the abrupt nostalgic taste of summer. Benny has probably already eaten six cheeseburgers.

There’s a sudden weight against your back - the hard hump of a chest - a flat stomach. Will’s bearded jaw scrapes across your temple as he pins you to the edge of the pool.

“Baby girl,” he murmurs as he wraps a muscular arm around your waist. Will doesn’t use pet names often. He’s reserved - certainly more so than Santi and Benny. Frankie might be the only other one who isn’t as public about his affections.

You guessed he’d be the first. He’d been watching you closely from across the kitchen, his gaze following your movements as you made yourself a drink. His face dressed in a small amused smile like he was chewing on a secret. A couple of girls flitted around him - prodding him with questions and half-slurred commentary that he politely acknowledged.

“Mmm you didn’t want to stay and listen to what Emily had to tell you,” you tease as he drops his mouth to the side of your neck and sucks.

He chuckles. “Nah - I tuned out. Too distracted.”

Heat builds in your belly. Self-satisfaction.

There aren’t people out here. Most of them are in the living room, distracted by the current boxing match on television. There are a few stragglers sitting in deck chairs or playing beer pong. Not close enough to notice. Not really.

He grinds into your ass as he presses his lips to your skin. Will is good at being subtle - the best at being discreet. You’re surprised that he’s willing to fuck you out in the open, but you aren’t necessarily complaining.

“We don’t have a lot of time,” he mutters as he hitches the gusset of your suit to the side - his insistent fingers prodding into you. His voice is gorgeous - rumbling through his broad chest as it vibrates against your shoulders. “You get so wet,” he praises. “Even underwater”

“Well,” you sigh. “You tend to have that effect.”

He purrs before he grips your chin and drags you to his lips. It’s a quick kiss - charged and molten as he deftly slicks his tongue against your own. “I want to make this good for you, sweetheart."

You feel his cock slide between your folds as you press your ass back into him. To anyone else, it would just look like Will’s whispering something to you. Affectionate. Intimate. You’ve always been pretty physical with the boys - maybe not to this degree - but fuck it.

He grips himself before he sinks inside you - making you curse under your breath. You’re wet enough, but there’s pressure - the chlorine finish making him a little too dry. It’s a stretch as he lazily fucks into you - his body smacking flush against your back as he grunts into your hair.

“Fuck - you feel so good.”

Your breasts are crushed into the wall as he rolls his hips against you. It’s slow and inexorable - the steady glide of his cock through your walls. In and out. In and out. He breathes hard as he holds you to him so fucking tightly. He reaches beneath your bikini top - cupping your tits - pinching your stiff nipples.

You savor the minute pain that sparks across your palms and forearms as you cling to the hot cement. The water is chilly enough - soothing despite the fact that you are burning up inside - flames flicking up your core as Will plants one hand over yours and another over your clit as he thrusts into you. Your orgasm shears its way through your veins - your nerve endings - sparking from the tips of your toes before shooting upward to burst within your cunt. You’re squeezing around him - tiny flickers - spasms - that choke and restrain him.

“You gonna keep me in there, gorgeous?” He presses closer - as he barely pulls out of your tight heat. “You’ll have to be a good girl and do it - hold me inside you so the others can feel me when they fuck you all deep.”

**

People leave the glass doors to the house open - letting the precious air conditioning float out and away. It’s humid inside and your skin feels raw from your wet bikini. Will is seeping out of you - oozing from between your legs as you try to look for a towel. You squeeze your lower muscles. This is harder than you thought.

You find Frankie - his eyes soft as he walks toward you.

He's nursing a beer that you guess must be warm and shitty because he wrinkles his nose when he sips it. He pushes a solo cup into your hands.

“Tequila and grapefruit,” he grins as his fingertips graze your knuckles. “You look a little overheated, baby.”

“I need a towel,” you grumble as you take a hearty gulp of the cocktail and then fold your arms over your soaked breasts. The burn is sweet - creeping through your veins and loosening you up.

Frankie is staring at you with a humored expression - all-knowing. You’re sure the guys know exactly who goes when - certain that he is already aware that Will had fucked you. They probably strategized this, held a damn meeting with blueprints.

You did agree to it and it’s not like you’re complaining.

No. It was slightly thrilling - fucking erotic. Kind of wonderful to have the four hottest guys here want to rail the shit out of you all over the house while no one is the wiser. You enjoy it - enjoy watching all the girls flirt with them - offering them drinks or food and they meet them with polite smiles while their eyes search for you - always searching until they find you and relax.

“I think there are some in the laundry room,” Frankie assures you. “Let’s check it out.”

Wow. Subtle.

**

“Fuck, Frankie,” you cry out against the onslaught of his mouth. His tongue is heavy and plunging. He tastes like muddled Budweiser. His beard grazing across your jaw as he makes out with you against the door.

“Turn around, preciosa,” he urges. “Let me have you.”

You do as he says and he presses his hand across your back - pushing you down into the washing machine’s hard surface. He anchors you in place - keeping you still as he kicks your feet apart before he fiddles with his belt and then sinks deep - inching and inching until his balls bounce against your thighs.

Frankie is dark with his sex - he fucks like he wants to swallow you whole. He fucks like every punch of his cock is pushing his brokenness into you. You understand him - you always have and you share in those shadowed thoughts and memories. He is so openly loving - so kind when he wants to be and it’s only when he’s with you - when he’s inside you - that you see flashes of his other-self.

You know all about me. You saw it. Had a front-row seat to those moments I fucking lost it.

Yes - you had. Both of you too trigger-happy and then too forlorn about it afterward. You let him take when he has sex with you - when he forces you to the floor and just buries you beneath him - his hips ramming up against your ass. He says your name a lot. He likes it - he likes to use it like it’s his and every slap of his hips means he owns you just a little bit more.

“Fucking hell,” he hisses as he digs his fingers into your ass cheeks - grabbing handfuls and spreading it open as he rams himself deep. He pulls you back on his length as he takes you in rough, short strokes. You hear him spit - feel the wet drop of it hitting your asshole before he gently nudges his thumb inside.

Your face burns - your fingers scrambling to find purchase across the slippery surface of the washing machine. Your skin is still chilly and damp from the pool but fuck you are melting hot inside - Frankie’s dick spearing you in half as he fucks you without hesitation and pulls at the rim of your hole in tandem.

He’s the dirtiest of them. Santi would claim that title if asked, but it’s not true. It’s Frankie. Quiet Francisco with his thick fingers and his talented tongue.

“Fuck baby - you have such a good ass,” he groans. “Just as nice as your soaked little pussy.”

You whine at that and Frankie yanks you back against his chest - his hand clasping over your mouth as he doesn’t miss a beat in his hurried pace. “Shh, honey,” he croons. “Can’t let them catch us.”

There’s so much friction inside you as he drives up - as he pushes against the cup of your womb like he could breed you right here in this empty space. The sharp clap of his skin hitting yours - the low, feral grunts from his throat as you cry out against the gag of his hand.

“You know I love you, sweet girl,” he soothes as his cock pulses inside you - throbbing and growing as he begins to hit his peak. “Love being inside you like this - how tight and pretty you are. Too pretty for me.”

You want to bite down on his palm for saying that but he’s already shoving you forward - already grunting into your ear as you feel his cock jerk inside you - the fever-heat of his spend painting your walls and mixing with Will’s.

It’s so damn nasty. The whole thing.

You feel his lips descend along your spine - his mustache tickling your skin as he strokes you tenderly. You feel his tongue in your ass as he clings to your waist and Jesus Christ Fish -

He growls - gruff and possessive as you grind back against him.

***

You smile up at Benny and he meets it in kind - white teeth flashing in the dark - the moon pulsing bright across the dark guest room.

“What do you want?” he asks as he presses his lips to your chin - your throat - sliding his tongue until he yanks your bikini top to the side so he can latch to your nipple. It makes you gasp - makes you arch into his warm, muscular body. You curl your fingers into the back of his t-shirt - pulling at it - watching it bunch around his muscles and his broad shoulders.

Blood rises in your ears - your limbs feel loose from the buzz of tequila. It certainly has made you more uninhibited but then again you were sober as a judge when you let Will thrust himself into you against the pool wall. Maybe - you’re just drunk on them.

“C’mon babe, tell me.”

It’s so like Benny. He’s goofy when he wants to be. He can be dirty, too. But he’s the guy who is down for anything - who will be willing and waiting. He asks after your pleasure - he is enthusiastic and sweet and if you asked him to mark you and ruin you - he’d do it. But he’d also play it nicely - he’d do it to your tastes and mold himself as you asked.

You like to give to him.

“I wanna taste you.” you croon as you watch his eyebrows lift.

You get on your knees - tugging at his swim trunks - watching his flushed cock bob against his stomach when you lower the band. You wrap your hand around his length before taking it whole. You like sucking Benny off - he shudders for you - his fingers twisting into your hair as he gasps and pants and loses it.

It’s a sight.

“Just fuck my mouth like you want, Benjamin,” you taunt - tongue circling the salty slit at the head. He nudges his hips forward - a test run before he sinks down a few more inches. You encourage him - massaging his balls - catching at the short blonde hairs on his thighs. He pushes deeper and you swallow down a gag - your saliva mixing with the viscous fluid that slips from his cock. He tugs your hair harder - straining your neck - the band of his silver watch scraping across your scalp. You feel his dick cram up against the end of your throat and oh Benny sighs: "Fuck you're so good at blowing me, baby."

Your pussy spasms - the hole contracting around air - still wanting and desperate despite the fact that it’s been overfilled. Everything is starting to dribble out. You reach between your legs - cupping yourself- trying to push it back in and it’s like Benny knows what’s happening beneath your swimsuit because he steps away from you, making his cock slip from your tongue.

“It’s your turn,” he orders as he picks you up - hitching your thighs around his waist before he slams you into the wooden door.

He screws you right there. Each plunge of his cock making a shameful wet noise as your cunt sucks him up. He groans as he pounds into you at a harsh, furious pace.  When his hips stutter, a broken noise drifts from his mouth and he tries to seal it against your neck. He pumps into you for a long time - the warmth of it throbbing in the cup of your sex like he’d marked you - carved you - left his name branded deep.

He is flushed with the exertion - sweat beading across his brow - darkening his hair as you smooth it back from his face. He still manages to keep you balanced - keep you impaled on the rod of his dick with his hands under your ass. You idly pet his cheekbone - push the tip of your thumb into his rose-pink lower lip. You lean forward to kiss it - chaste and reserved - even as he softens and he eases out of you with another echoing wet noise.

Benny lowers you to your feet - his broad hand sliding between your thighs as he wipes at anything that has spilled out of you: the slick and a few scattered drops of his cum. You catch his hand to suck his fingers - taste the brine and the musk and the sweat of him. He trembles - not dramatically - but enough for you to notice the effect. He straightens to his full height - all 6’2 of him looming over you - his expression dreamy and indulgent. A big puppy.

“God,” he exclaims. “You’re fucking hot.”

He shoves a hand into your hair before he kisses you - messy and possessive. He wraps an arm around your waist as he steps out of the guest room - fingers twining through yours to drag you down the hall and back outside into the humidity. Night has dipped the day in a luke-warm bath. It’s pleasant and you snatch a beer from the outdoor dining table before taking a swig to moisten your parched throat. You’re certain you’re going to be half-eaten by bugs - you’ve had no time to apply spray or sunscreen due to all the fucking.

Not like you can care. Not like your mind is anything, but pounding hormones and aching mush.

Frankie and Will are playing beer pong when Benny sidles up to them. They regard you with warmth - with sated hunger - their tongues darting over their lips. It’s...romantic. The intimacy - the pleasure shining in their expressions when they spot you. You’re addicted to the way they stare at you - like you hang the moon - like you’ve enchanted them - like you can control them with a tilt of your chin or a crook of your finger. It’s never anyone else - it’s never trailing after another girl or another guy - it’s just fucking you.

Will’s jaw clenches before he motions for you: “Wanna come be my partner?”

“Nah,” Frankie interrupts. “She can be mine.”

Benny scoffs. “Will move to Frankie’s side. She said she’d play with me.”

He says it suggestively enough that it could be taken two ways. They’re being overt at this point - their hands catching in your dress or pinching at your waist or stroking across your bare shoulders. Your skin is itchy from the touch of July sun  Their cum is leaking into your bottoms - just sitting inside you - a flushed, dirty secret.

Santi appears at your back,  wrapping his arms around your waist and tugging you firmly against him.

“Hey - princess," his voice runs down your skin - soaks you fully. It’s indulgent. Husky.

“Sorry boys,” he announces. “I need her for something.”

**

“That was so obvious, Pope,” you whine as you let him tow you to the side of the house.

He spins around - his gaze perfectly frank. He steps toward you - cornering you against the wall. It drives the breath from your lungs - makes you swallow the rest of your complaints. You put your hands on his biceps - feeling them quirk at your touch.

He grabs your chin to tip it up, forcing your eye contact, and you keep it dutifully. He searches your face - unable to articulate the sincerity he wants to press into what he will give you next. You know though. You know.

“Damn,” you tease against his jaw. “I knew you’d be the final boss.”

He muffles a laugh - his hands caging in your hips as he stares down at you. It’s not exactly quiet: there’s the thrum of the huge AC unit beside them - the splashing from the pool - the drunk hoots and hollers from indoors. The ping of balls landing in solo cups and Benny’s obvious whoop as he hits dead center.

“Was my idea after all,” he says. “Let’s see how baby did.”

Pope skates his hands beneath the hem of your dress. The fabric is stiff - partially soaked in places and drying with unmentionable things in others. He reaches forward and pushes two fingers deep. Your face flares at the lewd noise of him squelching through the others and your own hot syrup-slick. “Damn - you really held them in there, little one.”

“Well, I always play to win.”

He turns his thumb so he can nudge it against your clit - it’s hard, throbbing - over-sensitive but still Pope treats it all gentle like he knows you’ve been through it.

“I’m gonna fuck you,” he drawls as he slowly pumps his fingers - scissoring and spreading your already swollen pussy. “I haven’t stopped thinking about it.”

He kisses you fiercely - salt-slick tongue dragging across the wet heat of your mouth before he eases back. He blinks at you - girlish lashes fanning over his near-black eyes.

“Turn around,” he grunts. “Let me clean you up, baby.”

“Huh?”

But he’s already forcing you to face the wall - pushing you against it. You hear him drop to his knees and then you feel him shove his face between your legs. His nose digging into your ass as he licks into your pussy from behind. He laps and laps and it’s a shameless thing to do. It makes you squirm until he cracks his palm across your ass to keep you quiet.

“Pope,” you plead - all dizzy and dreamy. “Please.”

You don’t even know what you’re asking for.

Your feet nearly give way, but Santi props you up. His tongue is cool and wet as he dips it between your folds - as he slides it into you and gets you off with a velvet-soft orgasm that makes you flutter. It’s fucking filthy - the way he’s just tasting the mess inside you. It nearly makes you cum again.

“Now,” he hums as he sinks his teeth into the fat of your ass cheek before climbing up your body. “I need to get inside that sweet pussy.”

Santi is good at sex - he really fucking is. Where Will is logical and deliberate and precise about making love to you or delivering climax after bone-shaking climax, Santi is passionate. He is often feral and there is always a tiny bit of violence in it. Nothing you don’t ask for.

Santi fucking likes it when you’re kind of mean - he likes when you talk back and when you match him quip for quip. He likes to know what a challenge you are - how you would only deign to go soft and submissive for him because you let him.

Pretty. Fucking. Baby.

He likes to rub it in when he’s balls deep - when he has you whimpering and begging on his cock.

You wanna cum? You want daddy to make you feel good?

It’s a little absurd. You let Pope do it and in the heat of the moment you respond well - go slack. You admit that you like it when he makes you call him daddy so you can hit your peak. But outside of the bedroom, you cringe - eyeing him up and down and asking did you really fucking say that, you perv.

It always silences him - startles him like you've slapped him out of nowhere.

Of course - it’s just to rev him up. Get him frustrated.

Tonight - you’re just too fucking dead to fight him - to give him sass or be a flustered brat. You let him take the reigns.

He wedges your legs apart before he’s burying himself to the hilt. He doesn’t go slow - doesn’t inch his way in but does it abrupt and almost panicked. It burns. He has a thick cock and it always scrapes its way inside you.  You gasp - your hand flying to his thigh as you momentarily stop him.

“Fuck,” he curses. “You okay? I’m sorry, I -”

“Keep going,” you breathe. “It’s fine, Pope. Just - just go.”

He growls before nipping the back of your throat. He draws himself out until just the head remains - catching on the hole of your pussy before he slams all the way forward. You sob as he screws you into the wall - the stucco creasing your skin with stinging patterns. He pushes his hand beneath your cheek - a tiny reprieve - a reminder that he’s looking out for you.

“Jesus Christ - you filthy little thing,” he hisses into your ear. “You’re so fucking tight for me - you’ve had three other cocks inside you today and you still need me to fuck you open.”

You’re drowning like this - your oxygen depleting with each rough roll of Santi’s hips. His cock puncturing you with each frantic thrust - the fatness of it stretching you open. Your skin hums with violent electricity - your vision circles and blurs to white - to black - to shadows and shapes and Santi’s hand is planted in your hair as he twists your face and breaks you apart in this narrow alley between the party and the quiet street.

His fingertips circle your clit - swift and deliberate. He matches it in time with the jut of his hips - the snap and pound of his unforgiving pace.

He angles himself in such a way that his cock begins to push against something central. The head hits again and again as he pierces that pleasure point with a talented concentration.

“You gonna cum, princesa?” he taunts.”I can feel you clenching up -you get all creamy when you do - gonna make you -”

You lose it - gush all over him as you feel it soak your feet and his cock.

“Shit - shit - you just squirted all over me, honey,” he gasps between the wet slap of his hips.

You know that it must be enough to push Santi to the edge because he fucking whimpers - his body tightening up as he gives you a few more hard thrusts and then goes slack against you - his chin digging into your shoulder.

You can’t hear very well - your whole body is shuddering as you shiver underneath his weight. You’re cold. Your cunt hurts. You can’t stop shaking.

“Calm down,” he demands - voice hushed and kind. He gently turns you around - his hands still locked to your waist before he lifts them up to cradle your jaw. “Just breathe, baby.”

There’s a moment of silence - a beat as you try to get yourself together. You could sleep for a week. Santi shrugs out of his jacket before wrapping it around you - his expression still etched with worry. He ducks his head - chewing on his lip before his gaze meets yours. “Did I go too hard?”

“No,” you assure him. “Just - just a little overwhelmed.”

You sometimes wonder if this situation is doomed. You’re being split four ways - torn between them. But it’s not like you’re the only person getting fucked here. You know Frankie and Benny have their moments. You know about Fish and Pope too and then Will who has told you - in the pleasant safe darkness of his bed about the rest.

You think it over - turning it in your hands - pressing your cheek to it - your lips and tongue. The five of you are larger-than-life people who meet death on a regular basis - maybe this just shouldn’t be weird or complicated. Maybe - it just is.

Perhaps it would always be like this - dark eyes following you around. Their bodies catching to you like shadows - like they’d stitch themselves to the soles of your heels. It makes you think of Peter Pan and none of you would ever grow up or grow out of this. It just would be yours and who knows maybe you’d pop out one kid for each of them. Maybe they’d all move to an isolated island and play at house. Maybe...maybe...maybe...

Pope wraps his arms around your neck - the smell of his aftershave pungent in your nose as you curl your fingers into the back of his shirt. You inhale. There’s the heavy drip of spend down your thighs - your sex rubbed raw and still you hunger for them like nothing else.

It works. It does. At least - for now.

There’s a crack - a splitting boom. You glance up - past Santi’s startled expression to see the explosion of light - petals of spilling color burning up the sky - fireworks.