#its the mask kink yall im sorry | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

randofics · 2 years ago

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Snow patroll

Spiderman x super hero reader

This is just a random idea I had cause I figured I needed to write something to get out of this wrighters block. Ultimate spiderman x super hero reader. No powers of the reader are mentioned so yall can have any power yall want! Semi public xxx and slight breeding kink.

18+ Under the cut

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You were sitting outside the Parker residence on your motorcycle. The engine rumbling under you and the cold air turning the exhaust into a thick cloud. It was dark out and the streetlamp shown bright over you. You sighed and brought your wrist closer to your face, tapping the call button. Peter's tired voice answered you. "Y/n? What is it?" "Spidy! Get your tail up I need you on patrol!" "But its... WAIT it's ONE in the morning!? "Yeah it is now get up! you said you'd come with me on my next patrol. And really I let you sleep in through the first half so you're welcome." "Ok ok I'm coming just hold on."

He did his best to get his costume on quickly but when he was slipping on the pants he lost his balance and fell to the floor with a thud. A few minutes later you heard his window opening followed by a yelp and a red and blue blur falling into the snow. "Ugh why!" You burst out laughing when his head popped out of the snow pile. "No-not fun-funny! Im-im freezing here!" "Well get outta there then!" When he stood he shook off like a dog after a bath. "Why didn't you grab a coat or something?" "Goo-good idea!" He jumped back up to his still open window and crawled through to get his coat. A few seconds later and he very carefully clambered out and shut his window. He jumped down avoiding the pile of snow and jogged up to you. His breath was visible in the cold as it puffed through his mask. He slid his coat on and sat on the seat behind you putting a hand on your shoulder to hold on. "You a bit warmer now?" "Yeah but I doubt I'll be comfortably warm." "I thought they added a heating system to your suit at the helicarriar?" "They did but it's broken right now so I'm back in my old suit for a few days."

You nod and push off with your foot, the engine rumbling louder as you give it gas. The cold wind whips across your clothes and you know spidy is having it worse than you. He's shivering but trying his best to not wrap his arms around you for warmth. The hands on your shoulders are tense. At a stoplight you turn your head to look at him. He's hunched over a bit to use you as a shield from the wind and he's practically sliding off the back of the seat trying not to touch you. He looks at you questioningly. You lift the visor of your helmet to talk to him. "Spidy if you're that cold then hold onto me. I really don't mind." "Oh ok if that's alright with you then." He doesn't immediately wrap his arms around you so you give him a "nudge" by gassing it when the light turns green. You almost pop a wheelie making him grab a hold of you to stay on. He can't hear you laugh over the engine but with his hands on your stomach he feels your muscles ripple at the action. He's still keeping his distance from you so you reach behind you to lightly push his back. He gets the hint and scoots closer to you. Now he's pressed against your back, the heat seeping through your jacket soaks into his skin through his spandex costume.

He unconsciously moves his hands a bit lower following the heat coming from your abdomen. You blush but ignore it for now, just focusing on the road. But when you swerve to avoid a car his hand slips lower trying to keep a grip on you. His fingers brush over your pubic bone, dangerously close to your crotch. As soon as you come out of the swerve he retracts his hand. "Sorry!" You only glance back as you still have to watch the road. His hands rest on your abdomen soaking in the warmth. He suddenly pulls you tighter to him making you straighten your back a bit. His chin settles on your shoulder and a slight chill runs up your spine. You're in the city proper now and you turn off into an alley removing the key. Before he can remove his hands your's keep them in place. Looking back at him you can see his wide eyes. The alley is dark with some dim light coming in from the street. You remove your helmet and lean back into him. He doesn't move to get up so you take that as a good sign.

You tilt your head back onto his shoulder and look at him out the corner of your eye. "You know I can think of one thing that'll warm us both up." You run your thumb over his knuckles and he's actually speechless. "Uh um...." "Do you want to?" An audible gulp sound escapes his throat. "Ye-yeah sure." He's a nervous wreck now as you lean into him and look at him with those alluring eyes. "Ho-how should I start?" "Lift your mask up past your nose." He follows your instruction and you pull your hair away from your neck along with your scarf. You can feel his warm breath on the back of your neck as he inches closer. His lips lightly brush your skin and another chill runs up your spine. "C'mon I know you can do better than just a peck. You're spiderman you should act like it."

Your remark gives him the nudge he needed and he starts to really kiss your neck. His lips and teeth drag along your skin and your breath hitches in your throat. His hand moves to your hip and his thumb rubs into the flesh there. Your hands are splayed over the gas tank to keep you propped up as he abuses your skin. Your breathing heavily and your heart is racing in your chest. His other hand travels down and ever so lightly his fingers brush over your clothed button. Your leg jumps at the light bolt of pleasure. He does it again but with more pressure and you mewl at the pleasure that shoots through you. You can't see it but a mischievous grin comes over his face. His hands move to the button of your pants and you let out a yelp at the cold hand that's pushed into your underwear. But your anger at his cold intrusion is just as quickly silenced by his fingers brushing over your flower. Once they're at the back they push through your folds and drag over your entrance all the way to the little button at the front. Your hand grips his arm tight and your whole body tenses, your back arching. "Hah Ah!" Your voice is loud and his other hand comes up to cover your mouth.

Your reaction surprised him, he only did that as a bit of an experiment and to feel your overall shape for memory. With his hand over your mouth he did the motion again receiving the same reaction. Another idea sprung to mind and his fingers moved to your button. He spread your slick over his pointer and thumb then pinched and rolled the bundle of nerves eliciting a heavenly high pitch keening moan from your throat. He kept pinching and rolling the little button and after a few minutes his other hand was stuffed into your pants. Luckily they were a bit stretchy. His other fingers rubbed the ring of your entrance before he gently slid one inside. The cold digit was a stark contrast to your hot insides. Your mouth opened in a silent scream as he started pumping the didget in and out of you. Your hand reached for his head and as you were distracted you pulled his mask off completely. It fell to the ground but at this point he didn't care. Your fingers pulled on his brown locks as he added another finger. The two didgets scissored into you and rubbed along your walls. You turned your head to look at him and his eyes were blown with arousal. His breath was visible as he huffed. He abruptly kissed you catching you off guard but you quickly melted into it. With a few more pumps of his fingers your coil snapped and your juices flowed out onto his hand. When he removed his hands from your pants he studied the viscous clear flewid that stuck to his skin. You watched him curiously and he licked the flewid off his fingers as you watched blushing mad. Once he was clean he gave you a dark grin and kissed you again. You could taste yourself on his tongue as it slid past your teeth.

After breaking away for a moment you got up and turned around to sit in his lap. You laid back against the tank and he leaned over you, bringing his lips to your's for another kiss. Your legs wrapped around his waist and your hands tangled in his hair. He was hard against your crotch so you ground down on him. He hissed against your teeth at the delicious friction. His hands gripped your hips to keep you flush against him. He started to rock his hips into you and you took your turn to kiss his neck the moans and groans you drew from his throat were heavenly. His thrusts only got faster and firmer as he chased his own release. Soon he leaned completely into you with his nose under your jaw. You were getting close again and you clawed at his back as he continued to rut into you. His teeth suddenly sank into the flesh of your neck dragging a moan of pleasure from you.

He was no longer coherent as his instincts took over. All he was thinking was to breed you. He bit into you and his eyes glazed over. He gripped your hips with enough strength to leave bruises. With a few more rough thrusts into you he released, letting out an animalistic growl. He snorted with each heavy breath and he held you against him trying to push himself as far into you as he could. You had released again after he bit you and you could feel him twitching against you. After a minute his haze filled mind cleared enough for him to realize he still had his jaws in your shoulder. He gently loosened his grip and pulled away to look at you. You were panting heavily but smiling. When you opened your eyes you gave him a bright grin. "Oh baby that was incredible." Your voice was tired but laced with arousal. "Heh I'm glad you enjoyed it. And I bet you feel warm now right?" You chuckle and caress his jaw. "I guess we don't have to do patroll anymore since we're both tired now." "Yeah maybe we should head home."

#fanfic #smut #peter parker #ultimate spider man #peter parker x reader #peter parker smut

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jangofctts · 4 years ago

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Bloodsport (din djarin x fem!reader) (part one)

rated: 18+

word count: 5.4k

warnings: smut, knife kink (no blood is drawn and consent is clearly given), blowjobs, vaginal fingering, din is sorta a virg duDE, alcohol, mentions of violence (reader punches someone in the face kwejrkejh), some gambling (sabaac) also please let me know if I missed anything!

a/n: oOf this is the first fic in sO LONG IM SO SORRY YALL KEHJRKEJH BUT ANYWAYS I HOPE YOU ENJOY

It’s been a couple months since Din’s stepped foot on the sandy nightmare of a planet. Went through hell and back and kriff—it feels like a lifetime ago. But the landscape before him hasn’t changed an inch, Mos Eisley same as always—busy with all sorts of scum and villainy he turns a blind eye to.

Din hopes it’s not the only thing that’s stayed the same—selfish as it is. Someone as volatile as you is bound to catalyze and shift, so is the nature of life. A lot can happen in a month or two and it’s ridiculous to think that you would ever push your life to the side and wait for him to return.

Turns out, you are here, still working as the resident mechanic. Though in the same elated breath of hearing that tidbit of news, it’s equally dissatisfying when he somehow misses you completely. You’re off planet, looking for power converters and electrical wiring—back in few days Peli promises. Maybe by the time his wild goose chase is over, back from the butt fuck middle of nowhere, he’ll get to see you—

Nothing goes as planned—naturally. All Din finds is a man playing dress up, an oversized lizard, planetary drama he’s forced to resolve and—to top it all off—an attempted stickup. Maker—he’s not even worried about anything save for the kid and your speeder. The very same one now scattered over the sand in miserable heaps.

At least some of it is salvageable…

By the time Din reaches the outskirts of Mos Eisley, the binary suns are smearing across the horizon like molten puddles of magma. Deep aches amass in his shoulders and back from the weight of the speeder parts, his gear, and the second pair of armor. Maker—it feels like his arms are going to be ripped off.

The baby babbles something incomprehensible.

“Almost there, kid,” Din responds, sparing a quick glance down the baby. “How does soup sound?”

Instead of trudging back to the hangar, Din wanders to the cantina. Call it a hunch or just you and your aunt’s tendency to lurk around the premises, he’s certain he’s going to find one of you here.

Din is right.

The moment he steps inside, he spots your mess of hair, the low solar lights illuminating the rich colors with a soft orange. The baby coos and blinks up at Din, his tiny clawed finger gesturing in your direction.

Din hums. “Good job—you found her.”

The child’s little teeth peek out, pleased with his discovery. Din steps into the doorway, down the carven stairs and over to your table. A older man—a ship rigger by the looks of his uniform—sits across from you, a game of Sabaac spread across the table between you. You’re winning.

“Hello, Shiny.” You greet, dipping your chin in his direction. “Your armor is looking a tad ripe.”

It’s true. The layer of slime coating his armor had baked and crusted under the suns—probably doesn’t smell too good either…

“I killed a Krayt dragon.” Din states it with a twinge of smug satisfaction despite knowing how little something like that would mean to you. He could conquer three dozen planets and shower you in all the precious metals in the world and you’d still turn your nose up at everything.

“And I curb stomped a centipede today—you aren’t special.” Your eyes never leave the set of worn cards you hold between your fingers, acutely ignoring him like you would an overly enthusiastic puppy. You inhale and scrape your right thumbnail along the edge of the hexagonal cardstock—it’s a subtle tell, one Din would more than likely miss if he were the unlucky bastard brave enough to sit at the other end of the table.

“You playin’ or what?” Your opponent gripes. He scratches his unkempt salt and pepper stubble and quirks a furry brow.

You lift your chin in scorned defiance and lay your hand down—full Sabaac. The man hisses through his crooked, clenched teeth and utters a curse as he shoves his winnings towards your end of the table.

“Peli promised me information.” Din pushes, hearing the kid coo in curiosity as you begin shuffling the cards with practiced flare. “About others like me.”

“Do I look like my aunt to you?” You grumble. It’s the first time your eyes leave the perimeter of the game to look at him. They settle on the kid first with a guarded version of compassion, then leap to the faded green armor clipped to the heavy luggage, and then his visor. Your lip twitches at the green slime still coating the beskar. “I’m assuming my speeder didn’t make it.”

“A technical difficulty.”

You roll your eyes and snort, dealing out the cards then setting the stack in the middle. “Right…”

The background ambiance of the bar and the quiet rasp of cards fill the brief lull in conversation. Any other rational person would take the blaring hint to leave, but Din is just as stubborn as you are.

“I don’t remember where the hangar is,” Din lies, cocking his head to the side in mock innocence, “could you show me?”

The tip of your tongue peaks out of the corner of your mouth. The unconscious tic is not one of irritation—not yet. Though before you’re able to respond, your opponent beats you to it.

“Yeah—I know where it is. It’s between fuck off and take a hike.”

Din turns his head, the cool, even tone of his words sharper than shrapnel as he address the man. “I was speaking to her.”

This is funny to you Din realizes—one of the tiny mysteries of your entirety clicking into the place of the puzzle map he’s conjured for you.

“Well, I don’t have the time of day for cowards who wear shiny buckets over their head.” The man gripes into his drink, dark eyes flicking over to Din as he sizes him up. “What’s a Mandalorian doing out here anyway? Thought your planet exploded or something.”

The man’s ignorance irks him—sure. How could it not? But with years of harsh words and jabs at the foundation of Din’s very being, he’s learned to adapt. It’ll always sting no matter how many layers of beskar he wears but you on the other hand…

Your eyes spark, molten and bright like the last solar flare on the surface of a decaying star. Each encounter Din’s had with you, he’s bared witness to the deep well of your anger that fuels your being like the auto-mechanical heart of a droid. He’s felt the bite of your rage firsthand, but this anger—this is the tragedy of the delicate mayfly wings trapped between the black teeth of misfortune—the story of the boy who rammed a spear into the flank of an ancient beast that bites before it barks and gnashes its yellowed teeth in warning.

Din’s hand inches towards his blaster. He’s not willing to weigh the safety of the kid against your rash decisions, despite it being on his behalf.

Though, just as quick as it appears, it recedes like the cool drawback of a tumultuous ocean. Din’s arm relaxes at his side as you release a puff of air.

Your scuffed up fingers, stained with years of engine grease, scars and dirt, curl around your half finished drink. You stand, lay your cards face down onto the table and flash the stranger a feral grin.

Without a word, you toss your drink directly into the man’s unsuspecting eyes. In another breath, the pointed edges of your knuckles fly forward and hook beneath the point of his chin with a meaty thunk. The man’s head whips backwards and connects with the gravely wall—

Out like a light.

Jaw clenched tight, you shake out your bleeding knuckles and gather up the strewn credits over the table. You shove them into the pockets of your jacket and side eye Din. “Restitutions for damages,” you mutter.

The other patrons keep their eyes to themselves as the three of you hurry out the door. Only an apathetic glance from the bar tender serves as proof that something did, in fact, occur. No one wants to dirty their nose sniffing about where they shouldn’t be when they have their own business to safeguard.

The crisp night air rustles the stray strands of hair that escape from your ponytail. Ghostly moonlight carves the shape of your cheeks into an almost ethereal sight—one of those deep space creatures with pointy teeth and hellfire for eyes. Stuff of legends you’d never think to look in a dingy bar for.

But he knows—Din knows that cool mask is just a front from what you hide. It is a hungry ghost that hounds your thin stretched shadow—what ifs and the glories of war you never really escaped. You forget that you are flesh and blood and ghosts are only air and echoes, nothing more.

Din is sharp edged steel. A stray fragment of a shattered mirror, the lacerated reflection of a nameless purpose and a faceless existence. He’s torn edges and cracked glass but his heart beats within his chest with the blood of a thousand suns. Two souls under the umbrella of the word damaged but entirely different in nature.

“No one—“ you growl, your voice a steady and lethal timbre that terrifies a part of Din’s unconsciousness, “—speaks that way to my friends.”

Touching.

“Don’t look at me like that, Creature,” you huff, staring down at the child who gurgles in return. “He deserved it—“

The reunion certainly wasn’t the one Din imagined, though it’s a relief to find that there’s no roughened edge like sandpaper over skin wedged between you. Picked up right where you left off—no questions asked and no inglorious retelling of how Din nearly died on the floor of a shitty cantina. There’s not a doubt in his mind that you'd laugh at him for it—it is sorta funny…

The rest of the evening is spent walking back to the hangar, arguing over the fact that yes Din should take the couch instead of that miserable little hovel he calls a bed, and spend the night. He’d have to find some other mechanic to work through the night if he wanted to leave in the morning, because you certainly did not want to volunteer for that. And so—Din reluctantly takes the couch and agrees to let you tackle the monstrosity of fixing up his ship for tomorrow.

He has to admit…the couch is a bit smaller than the length of his body, but it’s comfortable…maybe he’d buy a better blanket while he was here. As a treat.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

You purse your lips and whistle. “I swear each time I see it, it gets worse. Y’know, I know a couple guys selling—“

“Can you fix it?”

You fold your arms over your chest and roll your eyes.“Yeah I can fix it, jeez—no need to get your undies in a twist.”

You try not to take offense, because hey—you’re offering him the info on the good deals on new ships (and at this point anything would be better than this old rust bucket). But if Din doesn’t want anything to do with that, then whatever. His loss.

When you wander onto the ship, toolbox in hand, the Mandalorian tags along. Unsure if he doesn’t trust you with his things or just wants to hang out, it blankets the space with an air of uncertainty. Turns out it was neither of those guesses. All he does is throw open his stash of weapons, collect his pile of vibroknives, and set them on a table to polish and sharpen.

Makes sense, you suppose. Everything has to be as shiny as his armor.

You drop to your knees near the closest wiring panel you find. You wrench open the paneling and frown at the disarray of sparking wires and tangled cords. You organized these perfectly last time he was here. “Who the fuck junked up my rigging?”

Mando sits at the little table tucked away in the corner, brooding over his cache of weapons. He shrugs. “Could’ve come loose when I landed.”

You roll your eyes at his half assed excuse and mutter a foul string of curses under your breath that’d make even Peli wince. It’s fine. It’s cool—no biggie. You can sort through this in a couple hours, maybe three.

But of course rarely anything goes as planned. As time ticks away, arms deep in wires older than the kriffing Clone Wars, the distractions begin. The scrape of metal on durasteel makes the hair rise into little pricks all up your arms—you shoot a glare over your shoulder. Din tilts his head, your kneeling self reflecting within the ever dark visor, features scrunched into an obvious tell of annoyance. Huffing, you bury your head back into your task at hand.

The second distraction arrives in the form of a quiet hum of curiosity originating from the Mandalorian. Out of the corner of your eye you see him bring a vibroblade up to his visor, inspecting the notch in the blade that disrupts the electrical current that flows through the weapon. Din then rubs his thumb over the handle of the vibroblade in a slow, sensual circle. You lick your lips and tear your eyes away. That shouldn’t be hot.

You furrow your brows and tear apart another wire, but the metallic tap, tap, tap of Din bouncing the tip of a different blade over the table is bothersome. You swing your head to your left, mouth parting to snap at him, but his hand—sans glove—brings you to a halting stop.

It’s alluring, the way his long, weathered fingers twirl the knife with practiced ease—like silk through water and followed by the low hum of electricity meant to slice through flesh. Din tosses it in the air, watching it spin three rotations then catches it by the handle. Your lips purse when his visor meets your eyes. He spins it between his fingers.

“Am I bothering you?”

Fucker.

You scowl. “It’s fine.”

The soft rasp of his thumb sliding along the flat of the blade entices the eye and damnit—he’s doing this on purpose.

“Doesn’t seem fine,” he hums.

“Well, it is.” You retort hotly. You snatch up your pliers and imagine you’re pulling his teeth out in place of the crooked paneling. “I’m currently thriving in my element.”

Din hums, the sound buzzing with grainy distortion. “Do you want a closer look?”

You chew your bottom lip. He’s playing with an open flame and you with volatile jet fuel.

“I don’t know, seems kinda lame from here.” You scoff, busying yourself by pinching and twisting another set of frayed wires between your fingertips. “A toothpick if anything.”

Din snorts behind you. The deadly whisper of beskar against the durasteel tabletop makes the hair on the back of your neck prick into points. You tense as heavy boots shuffle along the floor, the near silent rustle of armor tinkling behind you as Din steps closer. You’re slow to stand, even though the presence of the Mandalorian is no less than overbearing. You wipe your grimy hands onto a spare rag, continuing to face the paneling. You then turn, a coy smile threatening to break across your face.

Stars Din is broad—and close enough you swear you’re able to see the perspiration of your breath fog the beskar plating. Your eyes follow the seams of the cuirass, across the leather bandolier and up to his helmet that’s fixed in an impassive glare of tempered steel. Your back bumps into the wall as Din takes another step forward, boxing you in. To escape you’d need to duck under his arm and yet…you refuse to move.

Your breath catches as he languidly lifts his hand and taps the flat side of the vibroblade over your collarbone. The sharpened point tickles up the column of your throat, a crackle of nerves and your pounding pulse following in its wake. Din turns the blade to flat edge and pushes into the space right below your jaw—you squirm when he chuckles, the sound low and deep.

“You like this…”

Din grunts as your hand reaches between his legs, squeezing the growing hardness there. “So do you.”

Din circles his hand around your wrist with his free palm. Moons above his hands are warm. He murmurs your name—you shiver. “Tell me you want this—want me.”

A blush, hotter than the surface of Tatooine in the midday sun, rushes up your neck and pools into the apples of your cheeks. Maker you want him. With a shuddering sigh you nod—braving the scathing shrapnel of vulnerability. “I need you, Din—please.”

A low chuckle rumbles through Din’s chest. “Don’t think I’ve ever heard you say please before.”

Din drops his hold on your wrist as you roll your eyes. “Shut up, Bucket Head.”

The Mandalorian snorts and dips his head—gesturing towards the blade still lightly pressed against the base of your throat. “This ok too, Skitter?”

You flash him a wolfish grin. “Gonna fuck me with it?”

Din swears under his breath, crowding his body closer to yours. You hear his strained sigh as he dips his head closer, the beskar a chilly whisper against your cheek. “You’re depraved…take off your pants.”

You smirk, tear off your belt and shimmy out of your pants and underwear, bottom half now bare. His visor dips, entranced.

Your heart leaps into your throat, your pulse roaring in your ears as he settles one of his bare hands over the swell of your hip while the other trails the blunt edge of the handle from your clothes collarbone, and down your belly. From your mid thigh he skates the handle up your bare thigh and then rests it over the crack of your thigh. Heat flushes through your entire body, a stark contrast to the cool metal of the handle. A shiver races down each vertebrae when he drags it over the swell of your cunt and then carefully pressing it against your clit. You gasp and arch into the light touch, your thighs involuntarily jerking as he increases the pressure. It’s cold, rigid and filthy. Who knows where that knife has been—how many lives it’s taken or severed through muscle and skin.

You don’t find it in you to care all that much.

He trades his hold on your hip to slide his hand into your shirt, palming and kneading your breast through your bra as you roll and whine against his fingers. The tight circles he's drawing over your clit burns through your abdomen, drags you closer to the precipice that you’re all ready so close to. Fuck—it’s been so long since you’ve indulged in this sort of pleasure.You whine his name as wicked heat licking up your body and spreading to each limb. You arch into him, the handle of his knife slipping through your folds as arousal drips from your cunt.

Your groan as you tilt your hips into the handle, craving any lick of pleasure he’ll give. Your breath hitches as Din pushes the hilt closer to your throwing entrance, murmuring praise as he sinks the first couple inches inside of you. It’s cold—the knobby feel of the handle not too much thicker than one or two of your fingers combines. You huff and grab at his cowl, the warmth of his hand grazing your pussy each time he rocks his wrist forward.

“You’re so quiet,” Din goads, pulling the handle free from your aching center. “You usually have plenty to say.”

You shoot Din a glare, tongue weighed down by arousal to come up with a god retort. You lean your head back against the wall of the Crest and with a chuckle, Din’s hand leaves your shirt to pull you against his chest, the vocoder rumbling against your ear. The blade clatters to the floor and instead brings his calloused fingertips to your cunt. He softly rolls your swollen clit between his forefinger and thumb, delighting in the way you shake. “Be a good little thing and cum for me.”

Shit, you didn’t think it’d be that easy. Your body seizes as white hot heat ripples through your core. Stars, brighter than a dying sun burst behind your eyes, a high pitched cry filtering past your lips as shake and fall apart in his arms, your cunt clenching tight around the thick fingers he slips inside of you.

You whine as he pulls out, little aftershocks of pleasure wracking through your body in wake of your euphoric high. You groan as he lifts your head and pushes his digits, coated in your juices into your mouth. You lick them clean, tasting the tang of your own arousal and the salt on his skin. “Fuck—that was good.”

You can only imagine that Din rolls his eyes. He takes a step back but before he can escape—

You drop to your knees, a wicked smile curling over your lips. The muscles in his thighs jump as your palms smooth over the outsides of them, then up to his narrow hips, your thumbs lightly massaging the ligaments that protects the fragile joints. Din sucks in a sharp breath when your fingertips hook around his trousers.

“What are you doing?” Din asks, brushing a thumb over your jaw.

You pause and glance up at him. You quirk a brow. “Was gonna suck you off, but if you have something else in mind…“ He hisses and tips his head back, flashing the underside of his chin as your hand leaves his hip to cup the heavy bulge tenting in his trousers.

“Maker—“ He looks off to the side, inhales a choppy breath and then snaps his head back. “You’d…you’d do that?”

You nod and flash him an encouraging half grin. “Wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t want to.”

Din mumbles an incoherent string of words under his breath and shifts his weight onto his right leg. His fingers touch your cheek again then tuck a loose hair behind your ear. “But—“

Moons above this man is straight out of some kind of fucking fairytale—arguing about getting his dick sucked—or not.

Whatever.

“Din…” His breath hitches at the sound of his name. “I’m asking you kindly to fuck my mouth—it’s cool if you don’t wanna, but my knees already kriffing hurt and—“

He cuts you off with a hasty nod. “Yes—stars, please.”

Fuck yeah.

You smile and slide your eyes past Din’s legs to the cargo crate shoved up against the wall. “You should sit—easier that way.”

He nods and shuffles over, lightly perching himself on the edge and ready to flee at the barest hint of well—anything.

Din’s knee jumps when you place your palm over it. You assume his nerves are from the nature of his occupation—trouble always strikes when you least expect it—and what better time would that be when his pants are around his ankles. “Relax—I’m not gonna bite—maybe.”

He makes a wary sound low in his throat as your fingertips hook into the waistband of his trousers and pull. Din lifts up as you tug the fabric further down his legs, tan skin and solid muscle following in its wake. Fuck…

You swallow, mouth feeling quite dry when your eyes drift between his legs. Din is thick, a rosy brown color, flushed at the tip and curling towards his bellybutton. Beads of liquid shine at the tip, dribbling down the underside and pooling into the dark patch of curls at the base. Din’s fingers hook over the side of the crate, squirming under the weight of your stare.

Yeah—that’s gonna leave your jaw aching.

You hear his breath hitch, magnified by the crackle of the vocoder as your lips descend over a silvery scar on the inside of his right knee. You pepper a trail of wet kisses and light nips up his thighs, and by the time you reach the crease of his leg, his hips mindlessly rock with need.

The second the wet warmth of your tongue brushes over the tip of his cock, his hips jolt off the crate, a load groan echoing through the empty ship. It’s like striking a match to an open line of kerosene—devouring and explosive that’ll leave your delicate skin singed. You’re not nervous playing with fire if this barest scrap of wild heat is anything like burning to a crisp.

Emboldened by his initial reaction, you wrap your hand around the base, pulsing and achingly hard beneath the velvety flesh. You flatten your tongue over the tip, lapping up the sticky liquid the slip the head of him into your mouth. His hands fly to your hair, tightening into fists as he throws his head back. The beskar scrapes over the durasteel with a sharp squeal, but you don’t find it in you to care about the abrasive sound—eardrums be damned.

“Fuck—kriffing hell—“ Din snarls, arching his hips to seek more of your warmth. “K-keep going.”

Your own rekindled arousal blazes hot in your core hearing his stuttered pleas. You pull away to catch your breath, feeling almost guilty for doing so at Din’s low whine of protest. He picks his head up, watching as you languidly jerk him off—entranced with the way your hand rolls over the leaking tip, back down to the base, then up again. You could keep him like this—tease until he cracks under the pressure and begs you for whatever iota of pleasure you want to give but—

You’re not that mean.

Wetting your lips with your tongue, you part your mouth and slide nearly half of his length into your mouth. Din mutters something garbled, his hips jolting as you hollow your cheeks and bob your head.

Din shifts, arching his back and stuttering out broken whispers of encouragement. Placing your hand over his thigh, you can feel his pulse thrumming beneath your fingertips, wild and alive—something real beneath all that heavy armor and unforgiving helmet.

“You—you look…” He grunts as you hum around around his cock, swallowing him down further. “Shit—you look so p-perfect like this.”

You groan and squeeze your thighs together, attempting to ignore the gnawing hunger snapping at your insides.

Rolling your tongue along the underside of his shaft, your fingers slide over what your mouth cant reach—squeezing and gently coaxing him towards his high. He seizes up tight—yet, just when you think you’ve got him skidding off that precarious edge—

His hand fists your hair at the base your neck and yanks you off his cock. He huffs, breathy little pants as he folds into himself like he’s been punched in the gut, his head rolling forward onto his shoulder. Din shivers as he scrambles for control, beginning to loose that slippery foothold he’s so intent on maintaining. His cock, flushed an angry red and still slick with your saliva, twitches and throbs for the release so cruelly wrenched away.

You let him catch his breath. The fingers tangled in your hair go lax and drop away to rest at his sides. You swallow, his previous skittishness suddenly clicking into place. “Din, are you…?” A virgin. Your question tapers off, unsure if it’ll embarrass and scare him off.

“No,” he answers—not in a sharp way like you’d hear with a bruised ego—just stating a fact. “Just not—not this. Never had someone—stars—“

Your teeth roll your bottom lip between them, forcing your face to remain neutral despite the stroke of pride blooming singing in your chest. You’re his first—lucky enough to make this the best goddamned oral he’ll ever have. Something he’ll remember for years.

“Do you want me to stop?” You ask, praying to the Maker he’ll say no.

He shakes his head, sucking in another calming breath and unfurling himself. His fingers clench into fists then relax, crackling with pent up energy and unsure nerves as to where he should put them. You solve it by threading your fingers through his and placing them around you head.

Your lips quirk. “You’re allowed to cum in mouth—don’t worry about it.”

His cock twitches as a quiet moan fizzles through the modulator. “You su-sure?”

“Oh, yeah.”

With a smile you bring your mouth back to his cock, tongue swiping up the entire length of him. Din groans as the soft warmth of your mouth slips over the flushed tip of cock, his thick length twitching as you hollow out your cheeks and suck. You bob your head as you slowly work him in further because even like this, hardly halfway into your mouth, you feel your lips stretching a bit too much around him. You groan and part your mouth wider, letting him sink into the soft warmth of your throat. Din inhales, the sound shaky and unsure as his hips twitch with a few tentative thrusts.

You take it slow—lifting your mouth nearly all the up to the tip then back down to the base. Din rolls his hips, helping you ease into the gentle pace. Saliva drips down his cock and over your knuckles making an absolute mess you have zero intentions of cleaning up. It’s his ship after all. Din swears as his hips stutter, your hand squeeing around him, trying to push him off that edge he so deserves. Din gasps your name, the pitch of his words knocking up to a lighter, more airy tone, warmer than melted butter.

“Ca-can’t believe, it—ah—it fits.” He groans with astonished reverence. You preen under his praise.

You swallow around him and grunt at the abrupt jolt of his hips. There’s no distinctive rhythm you can follow as you let him rock his hips into your mouth—seeking out his pleasure without a coherent thought in sight. Just a cacophony of gasping breaths and rough moans.

You can feel is cock twitching over you tongue—he’s close—and when your eyes roll up to meet the darkened visor, he’s gone. He shouts your name and knots his fists around your hair as he spirals of that edge. You nearly gag from the force of his release hitting the back of your throat—cock throbbing and jerking in your mouth like he’s been denying himself release for months. His moans, fragile and gasping, filling the quiet space as his hips grind his cock deeper down your throat, his hands threaded into your hair acting as an anchor—the sole tether he has to the waking world.

Din’s grip relents as the last few catastrophic waves tear through his body. He doesn’t move his hands, just lets them rest over your skull as his chest heaves for precious air, a harsh crackle through the vocoder. You pull his still twitching cock halfway out, dragging the tip of your tongue below the frenulum while one of your hands circles the base of his length. Maker—he’s still going—

Last little dribbles of his cum spurt onto your tongue and drip over your knuckles still securely wrapped around him. His legs and lower abdomen flex when your hand falls lower to carefully knead at his balls, milking out his pleasure for all its worth. You let his softening cock slip from your mouth when he swears and mumbles your name.

When you rest your back against the wall, he slips himself back into his trousers and joins you. You take a risk and rest your head over the chilly beskar pauldron. You’d never call this love—the word is much too harsh for this delicate string of seconds. Love means giving pieces of yourself to others like martyrs give their hearts to the sky—or risk fragile skin against the rays of an unforgiving sun. Broken ribs and clenched fists, immensity beyond comprehension—

“You should come with us,” he says with a hesitant mumble. Love is formidable—but you know that somehow, here, pressed against Din’s side, that this is right. In a golden way, a honeyed way, a path that tastes of blood, freedom and blaster smoke that will leave your lungs stained with blackened soot. Cowardice has long made a home inside of your soul, and he’s offering you a chance to shake off the layer of frost clinging to your bones and step into the gentle merciful dawn.

“Yeah—alright, Din. I will.”

tags (only tagging some moots for now bc i have no clue what’s going on in this fandom anymore dbdndn): @goldafterglow @jango-fettish @djxrxn @blsmjoon @spookoofins @krissology @steeeeeeeviebb @teaofpeach @comphersjost @gummiishark @delusionsxfgrandeur @pettyprocrastination @huliabitch

#well it aint that good but it honest work wkerkjehr #my writing #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian #fanfic #star wars #sw #star wars fanfiction #jangofctts

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moonchildhcs · 6 years ago

Text

parkchan hcs

hi kids uwu

in retaliation to miss parker dae’s decision to write some persimin im writing some parkchan so bring it on, bitch boy

how do yall meet ?? its because u were both at the park uwu

u and persi were playing on the swings and oru boy bang chan arrived with his kids and !! he might be the leader but he Wants The Swings !!! but persi is in their own world so you, being a Kind Person (not because hes super cute or anything) gave up ur swing for him and decided to play on the monkey bars instead

and it goes like this for a few hours !! its u, persi, and the boys playing around the park and having the time of ur lives !!! but then the ice cream truck comes and chan, not forgetting that you gave up ur prized swing for him, went over and bought u both some !!! and its the expensive soft serve ice cream too and ur like BITCH WAIT LEMME PAY U BACK

and hes like no !! u gave up ur swing for me !! im repaying u for ur kindness

persi and the kids in the background: huehuehue lovebirds

anyways u two playfully bicker about who owes who (chan insists ur both equal but u insist u owe him) before it gets really,,,, really dark our and u all have to head home and chan, smooth as hecking EVER, says he needs ur number so yall can settle this matter later and who are u to deny this hot guy with a cute accent ??? so u give him ur number and ur like “i WILL repay u”

and he gives u the cutest grin and is like “sure you will ! its a date” and he leaves and u fucking SCREAM

and he keeps u to it yall go on an ice cream date later and u treat this time !! tho he did try to sneakily pay when u left for the bathroom but you caught him in the act and he just,,, walks back to his seat and ur like :^) before paying for the two of you !!

also yall take some cute pics but he insists on having his mask on (you think its for the fashion but its bc he doesnt want to get caught by dispatch oopsies)

and this becomes a monthly thing !! you guys go out to a new ice cream place and try different flavors and stuff once a month as a date but also yall enjoy going on different kinds of dates as well :^)

such as exploring !!! chan told you his job sometimes forces him to stay up rlly late and ur like :( oh no bb but then hes like BUT LETS GO ON A NIGHT ADVENTURE and ur like oh HECK yeah !!! and you guys explore the city at night

also u both speak english and korean so sometimes yall just,, randomly switch between the two in the middle of ur sentences ! anyways uwu

this is maybe three months?? after yall started going on dates and yall are stargazing from the rooftop of the tallest building there is in the area and ur eyes are sparkling, looking at the sky as some soft music plays from ur playlist

and chan just blurts out an “i love you” and you whip your head because !!! holy shit !! and hes like “please, please be my girlfriend” and ur like omg YES !!!

and thats how yall start dating !! but he feels guilty bc hes assumed that u dont know that hes an idol and he calls you and hes like “ive been keeping a secret from you” and ur like “ur an idol? dw i been knew but ur a person before u r an idol !! it changes nothing between us” and his heart hecking BURSTS with his love for you bc !! u dont care abt his career u care about him primarily and he just LOVES YOU

anyways now that yall are an Established Couple lets explore the dynamics shall we?

tbh yall are just big hecking softies !!! yall love to stay in and cuddle because chan is a busybody and can be,, tired especially with promotions so sometimes yall just put on a nice movie or some cool tunes and,, cuddle with a bunch of blankets and stuff

and its rlly cute and wholesome and just,,, uwu

as mentioned yalls continue your ice cream dates !! its a tradition and even if he goes overseas yall just facetime each other and go out to an ice cream place and c o n s u m e !!!! its rlly cute actually and after a while yall settle on One ice cream place that not only has really good ice cream but is also not that busy so chan doesnt have to wear his mask inside !!!

hes five inches taller than you which is Optimal for forehead kisses !!! he just Smooch you all the time !! also loves smooching ur nose he thinks u have a v cute boopable nose !!! he just rlly loves showering u with affection

also he loves to be big spoon !!! he just likes emphasizing that he is bigger than you its fun and to him its very cute, especially when u get frustrated and ur like “IM NOT SHORT” and hes like aha, tell that to our height difference :)

also yall have made eachother so many playlists before and sometimes its a lil bit spicy to indicate that yall find each other Hot but mostly its just rlly cute, meaningful playlists that have made eachother cry

also you BETTER believe this sappy boy has made you more than one song !!! he just lovessss you and he subtly mentions u with nicknames and variations of spider man and ur like (O//W//O) bc thats so hecking cute and meaningful !!

also he better believe ur his number one supporter !! uve got all the merch (but also eventually he finds out that despite being ur bf ur bias is hyunjin and he pouts for a week straight lol)

also u steal so much of his clothing that at one point hes like “parker.. please return my shirts i have nothing but pants to wear” and ur like “oh my god bet?” jokes jokes but im sure the view would be nice oopsies

u dont say it but u love his accent a lot u think its rlly cute (and a lil hot) and he doesnt notice it at first but eventually he notices the dreamy look on ur face when he speaks english and hes like oh? is that what i think it is? and he goes out of his way to speak english from then on and ur like BITCH but also KEEP TALKING

u guys have some lowkey couples clothing but the most blatant is a matching necklace !! it has a sunflower charm on it and its rlly cute :)

anyways bitch lets get onto that hecking SPICEEEEE

u saw the babygirl broadcast. the og broadcast with the pic. and once that live was over u texted him like :^) babygirl huh?

and hes like,,,, oops !

but this prompted a discussion abt kinks between yall and he was like ,, i cant call u babygirl because imma have to call my fans that now to cover for myself but,,, a daddy kink,,, whew chile !

later that day he comes over to ur house and fucks you into the mattress as u scream daddy into the pillow! and dont worry; he calls u princess instead :)

he likes tying you up with these rlly nice silk ribbons !! especially these baby pink ones he thinks u look rlly cute with baby pink :^)

hes not into ageplay of course he thinks thats fucking weird but he likes being called daddy and sometimes when u want to be a brat ull lean into him in public and call him daddy and hes like Wait Till We Get Home and ur rlly in for it with then bc then ur getting it especially rough that day he doesnt give a FUCK

but semi-public spaces are a no go hes got an image to maintain and a career at risk so its strictly at ur place but the absolute tension between yall as yall approach ur place is palpable like... hes rlly intense

also sometimes hes rlly into producing music so sometimes ull be in his Producing Room with him and ur just,, rlly horny but hes like Im Sorry I Have To Work so u get off by riding his thigh and ur like NICE but hes like,,, fuck thats hot and so he takes a break from producing and instead fucks you in the recording room since its soundproof :^)

anyways yall are spicy oof the flavor !

#parkchan #spicy!

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