#soft dom din djarin

[chaotic-iguana]

Acting out

(Din x f! reader one-shot)

Summary: You thought it would be fun to tease Din on the comm link while he was hunting for a bounty, expecting it not to take too long. But it takes longer than you thought - and it turns out your distractions were partly why it took so long. Mando’s back now though, and he’s not happy…

(basically just a brat tamer! din x bratty-till-shes-drooling-on-his-cock reader)

Wordcount: 2.7k 

Pairing: Din Djarin/ The Mandolorian x fem! reader (no use of y/n) 

Warnings: dacryphilia, dom/sub dynamics, overstimulation, edging/denial, crying, mean!mando, pussy slapping, spanking, daddy kink (mild), dumbification, crying (during sex bc it feels good), aftercare. MDNI

ao3 // masterlist.

Din stalked back to the ship, dragging the bounty behind him, aggression pouring off him in palpable waves. His seemingly easy bounty had taken triple the time it normally would have, thanks to the fact that every time Din got close enough to catch him, you’d picked up the commlink out of boredom, and moaned, whimpered and whined into it till he was so painfully hard under his beskar that The Mandalorian was forced to jerk off in dimly lit alleys. With the shiny armor on. 

14 times in three weeks. Fourteen times in three weeks you disobeyed his direct command to not touch yourself while he was gone, practically taunting him every time he threatened to punish you on his return. He could hear the smirk in your voice as you bit out each one of your witty little replies. ‘S okay, he was gonna wipe the smirk off your face, along with every other thought in your pretty little head. 

Since it was going slowly anyways, Din had gone a bit off-route and into a shop he’d rarely been to before. The package was now tucked in his holster belt, and had been spotted by the quarry who had been guffawing the whole way here. Must have been his happiest damn quarry yet, the rate at which his boisterous laughter was reverberating in Din’s skull. He whirled, slamming the Twi’lek face-first into the side of the Crest in warning, relishing in the string of blood and spit beading from his mouth as he spat out a tooth and snarled. Din snarled right back and hauled him inside, throwing him into the carbonite chamber and freezing him before he had a chance to do much else. 

Once that was out of the way, Din began hunting for you. He found you in the hull, giggling with the child over something adorable, no doubt, but he was so infuriated by you he didn’t care. He just walked over to the child, gave him a Keldabe kiss, and tucked him away in the crib fondly before fiddling with his vambrace to close the sphere. At the sound of your protests, Din turned to you and cocked his head in your direction, watching you trail off nervously as he offered no explanation. You took a step forward, reaching to put your hand on his chest and ask if he’s injured - but before you could even open your mouth - Din gripped your elbow and whirled you around. His chest connected with your back as he crowded you forward. 

A knot of anticipation and nervousness grew in your stomach. You were a brat, but you had never pushed him this far before. Never during a bounty, either. Despite your anxiety, you trusted him to take care of you; the combination of unpredictability and trust making your head dizzy with molten need before he even touched you. 

“Stand in the corner and face the wall with your arms up.  Don’t lower them unless I give you permission to.” His modulated voice ground the words out in a monotone, but he was close enough for you to be able to hear the whisper of rage in his words, making your hands tremble as you pressed them flat against the cool metal wall. You heard a rustle and telltale clink of metal armor behind you and tensed in expectation before a large, warm hand settled just above your hip, covering the expanse of your back. Another made its way around your torso and both began working in tandem to rip the clothes off your body. 

You gasped as you stood shivering and bare in the hull within seconds, testament to the strength he hid in his gentle touches with you. You opened your mouth to beg him to hurry up before his hand came down on your ass and a smack echoed in the ship. Your lips parted, and a cry of surprise worked its way out as Din began slapping both your cheeks in a random, but equally devastating order. He gave you no time to recover, barely letting the sting fade before he repeated the motion and the pain increased tenfold. 

Tears began pooling in your eyes as Din kept going, and when your legs began shaking from the ache you couldn’t take it anymore. “S-stop. Please. ‘M gonna be g-good” you could barely get the words out between the sharp, jagged breaths bursting out of you. Din chuckled behind you before leaning in to rub your swollen, reddened skin in a soothing motion. 

“Are you now? You forgot to count, though, cyar’ika. Good girls count. Let’s try again from one, no crying.” His tone dripped with condescension as he began again, practically reveling in each gasp and broken sob that spilled from your lips, taking pleasure in each time you stuttered on a number. Your eyes burned but you blinked rapidly to stop any tears from falling. You had submitted completely to your submissive headspace, and Din knew it too.

Finally, as you gasped out “25”, Din stopped to soothe the flaring bruises again. You whimpered and tried to move your hips forward, but realised the wall gave you no space to do so. Turning over your shoulder, you met his visor with pleading, tear-filled eyes. 

“S-sorry daddy. Won’t tease you next time, ‘m sorry for being bad. Please no more, it h-hurts,” sobs wracked from you, and you wrapped your arms around his midsection before burying your face in his chest. Gloveless hands began smoothing over your hair as Din began muttering praises and assurances to you from behind his helmet. 

“That’s okay, baby, I know it hurts. You teased me all the time, hm? Gotta make it right, no?” he paused as you nodded into his chest. “Then you gotta take your punishment, too, honey. You think just 25 strokes is enough to make up three weeks worth of misbehaving?” you shook your head, sniffling and looking up at him with such a sincere apology in your gaze that Din debated abandoning the punishment then and there. 

But the package sat on the floor next to his armor, tempting him, and he gave into the wrecked visions of you his mind was conjuring. Tapping your thighs lightly, he urged you to jump before adjusting your knees on his waist and cradling your head in one hand to reach down and pick up the inconspicuous white bag from the floor. Carrying you to his chair, Din pulled some rope out and began typing your hands to each of the chair’s handles; your feet spread wide in position. He reached his hand into the paper bag and pulled out a bullet-shaped, neon-pink toy as your eyes widened in alarm. 

You whined, tugging against your restraints fruitlessly as you looked at Din, who just tilted his helmet at you before kneeling and running a knuckle down your folds - chuckling when the contact makes you hiss and buck your hips. Din’s fingers leave you for a second before his hand comes down again - this time on your bare and swollen cunt - leaving you jolting away and yelping in surprise as you suppress a shudder. The snap of his rough hand on your clit leaves you breathless as stuttered pleas and whines come tumbling our of your throat. Din just brings his open palm down in another slap in response, the wet sound echoing throughout the room. 

“We’re done when I say we are. Ask me to stop again, and I’ll add another punishment after this one.” You squirmed, tugging against the ropes binding you to the chair. Din reached for the toy, pressing a button on its side and holding it snug against your clit. Your hips bucked of their own volition as you choked on your needless babbling, the warmth in your belly growing to a crescendo just as Din slid two fingers into you without warning. 

Just as you felt the first waves of your orgasms within reach, suddenly everything was gone - his fingers, the toy - pulled away cruelly, leaving you rolling your hips while the restraints chafed your skin. You sobbed out a whine as Din tutted at you in mock sympathy, stepping away from you until your release faded away before returning the toy and thrusting three fingers inside you in a single, swift motion. 

He repeated this cycle endlessly - bringing you to the edge only to pull away again, watching your trembling body rut in midair mindlessly; too far gone to even beg properly. Broken syllables poured out of your mouth, interrupted by wanton moans and sobs as tears stained your flushed cheeks. Eyes rolling back and slick running down your thighs, you furled and unfurled your fingers as the need to touch Din overwhelmed you. A steady chant of need to cum, need to cum, please, please, please, i’m sorry began taking over your mind, rocking your hips forwards and backwards in an attempt to chase any friction at all in the haze that had flooded your mind. 

Din could see you crumbling, your frustrated tears falling harder as time went on. He pulled the vibrator away from you again, turning it off to set it aside this time, untangling the ropes and opening your binds while rubbing at your sore wrists. You sobbed as you reached your shaking hands out for him, and he gathered you in his arms before turning to sit with you in his lap, rubbing your back as he cooed praises into your hairline. 

“You wanna come, honey?” You nod feverishly into his chest. “Okay, baby, okay. Took your punishment so well for me. You deserve a reward, okay? Let me take care of you.” You sniffle and look up at his visor before resting your hands on either sides of his helmet, waiting for your riduur to nod to tug it over his head and smash your lips to his desperately. You needed to feel him so badly, to breathe the air he was breathing, to be one with him again. Hands reaching up to tangle in his hair, your fingers began to claw at him urgently as you deepened the kiss. 

Breaking away from your mouth to grasp your chin, Din’s eyes met yours, an unguarded question in them. You want this? Instead of responding verbally, you stood to your feet to help rip off his boxers and undershirt before returning to straddle his thighs. Din leaned back in his seat before grinning at you. “Go on, take what you need. You’ve earned it. Just wanna hear a thank you when you’re done.” he drawled at you before resting his hands on the rests of the chair. You leaned in closer, rolling your hips to grind your cunt against his length; his moan rumbling against your pressed chests as his tip caught at your clit, making you hiss and jump from the sensitivity. 

You sunk down onto him, nails digging into his biceps as your toes curled and you both groaned from the stretch as you met in a rough, sloppy kiss. Eyes rolling back, you bounced in his lap whining his name over and over like a prayer as a cocky grin made its way onto his face. Wet, smacking sounds and the repetition of your wrecked “Din, Din, D-Din…” echoed throughout the hull. Din planted his feet, gripping your hips hard enough to bruise, thrusting up and nuzzling your neck as his tip battered your cervix with enough force for your vision to black out; back arching as you screamed soundlessly and felt yourself hurtling towards your orgasm. 

You tipped your head back as your eyes fluttered shut, unable to do much more than take the pleasure he was giving you. A hand wrapped around your neck and clamped down as Din spoke into your ear with an edge that had you suppressing a shiver. “You look at me when I make you feel good. Let me see those pretty eyes cry on my cock, mesh’la. Cum.” The words of endearment in Mando’a were the final nail in the coffin, and suddenly your whole body was locking up -  walls clamping down around Din as you finally got to come - eyes filling with tears as Din’s movements didn’t so much as stutter, drawing the high out to the point of pain and over-sensitivity that had you jolting with each thrust. The steady repetition of thank yous began surging from your lips, eager to please him, keening for his praise. 

Scratching your nails along his scalp and curling your fists into his hair, his stubble leaving burn marks down your neck as he began rolling your flesh between his teeth before sucking bruises into it. Gasping, you felt your legs shake slightly as the onslaught continued, barely able to form sentences in your head as the white hot bliss wiped your mind clean. A particularly punishing press of his girth inside you caused a shriek to bubble up from your throat as you pushed weakly at his chest to slow him down, making him laugh at you. 

Tilting your head down to level your eyes, he brought his face close enough to make your noses touch. “My poor-” leaning in, he pressed a kiss to your now slack jaw, pulling back to look at you again, “poor, baby.” Twin brushes of his lips over your eyelids, which threatened to shut at the fatigue coursing through you now. “Fucked so dumb she can’t even tell me to stop.” A kiss to your cheek this time, his tongue flicking out to taste your tears. “‘S that what you want, sweetheart? Want me to stop?” you shook your head frantically, too desperate to feel him in you to remember your pain. 

“W-want you to cum, daddy.” You whispered it as you buried your face in his neck, body twitching with his relentless motions and reveling in the slight hitch in his breath at your words. Before you knew it, a steady slew of please cum and please trickled into your half-gasped, rambled vocabulary, just as Din’s thrusts sped up slightly. Your eyes did close then, arms wrapping around his neck to wrap yourself in his safety as he reached a hand down to thumb at your clit, making you lurch in his secure hold as he began tracing rapid, tight circles on you while rutting up into you with renewed vigor. 

“Give me another, baby. That’s it. That’s it, good girl” his words kept you grounded as you began wailing, trembling like a leaf as he thrusted a few more times before he came with a low, animalistic moan and spilled inside you. 

Heaviness and fatigue began weighing down your body and mind in his arms, your breathing evening out as you tucked your face in his shoulder. His arms wound around your midsection, pressing soft kisses and murmurs into your hair as he used one hand to smooth the hair away from your face. You felt him pick you up and walk you somewhere - turn on some water and the glorious feeling of his hands running down your body to scrub his soap into your skin. 

You had the distinct memory of his lips ghosting over each blotch of blue or purple, taking the time to kiss it softly before moving on to the next, before he wrapped you up, dressed you in his shirt and panties, and lay you onto the bed. Swooping down to kiss your forehead and smiling at the sleepy grumble you let out before reaching your arms out blindly for him, he turned the lights out and crawled into bed to hold you. Watching you burrow into him in your sleep, the irritation of the hunt seemed to melt away now that he was with you again. For the first time in days, Din let sleep take him; feeling completely safe and at home with you pressed to his chest.

hello loves, as always - thank you for reading. comment your thoughts or find me on ao3. stay hydrated and have a great day! taglist: @imherefordeanandbones 🫶

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[endlessthxxghts]

Solace

Din Djarin/The Mandalorian x afab!reader || W/C: 4.3k

Summary: You help Din release his frustrations after he comes back from a weeklong hunt.

Content/Warnings: Canon divergent around season 3 (no Grogu here; one tiny reference to Living Waters). Reader is able-bodied, but there are no specific physical descriptions. Pet names for both reader and Din (fem pet names for reader). Implied established relationship (you've seen his face and call him Din) - THEY'RE IN LOVE. Reader knows a bit of Mando'a. Helmet comes off. 18+ MDNI. This is 100% porn. Boot riding...blanket..riding...(there's a lot of riding lolz). Multiple orgasms. Cunnilingus. Din is a talker when his mouth isn't occupied. Blow job/face fucking. Unprotected P in V sex. Reader is on whatever form of birth control they have in space LMAO, so #twinkie time😋. Hints of a breeding kink. Praise kink (lots of it). Switch BDSM dynamics. Soft Dom!Din along with subby/desperate!Din. Sub!Reader and soft Dom!Reader. Please let me know if I missed anything! Xx

A/N: First picture was made by @djarin-desires, and honestly, this whole oneshot was inspired by this post they made! I literally could not stop thinking about these pictures all day, so I just had to write my ✨thots✨ down. I hope you enjoy!! Other two photos are found on Pinterest - middle does not represent anything about reader’s physical appearance.

MASTERLIST || FIC NOTIFS BLOG

“Oh, shit-” you gasp. “Din, please,” eyes rolling back in pleasure, your body shivering in its nakedness compared to his fully armored form. 

“What is it, sweet girl?” he coos, his fingers caressing your cheekbone, pushing the hair from your eyes. 

“Need- stars- need more,” you cry out, your current situation proving to only bring you to the edge, but not carry you off of it. 

“One more like this, cyar’ika, then I’ll give you what you want,” Din reassures you, his leather-clad thumb running across your bottom lip, hooking himself in your mouth for you to make a mess of. “I wanna see that boot soaked, you hear me?”

Din always gets like this when he comes back from a weeklong bounty hunt. He gets hard. Dominating. In need of control. To take back the situation that got out of hand. 

You were sitting on the ground cleaning one of his blasters when he came in. He was tense. Weirdly quiet. He’s always quiet, but not with you, not for a few years now. He threw the bounty into the carbon and froze him, his chest plate rising with every breath. You knew him well enough now to know when he’s seething, and this was it. 

“Din?” you called out softly. 

He just points his helmet at you, the visor staring you down. 

“Everything okay?”

“What do you think?” He responds rather harshly.

“...Din,” you whisper, feeling every ounce of anger in those four words.

You like how it ends in these situations, though. It always ends with him a whimpering mess beneath you. There’s usually some kind of switch. He takes a third orgasm out of you, and always on the third, he becomes needy. Desperate. He just wants to be inside of you. To be balls deep and stay there, to release all of his tension while being wrapped up in you. 

You’re his solace. His warmth. His home. He always needs you. But right now, he needs his control back, so even though it’s you who’s in control by the end of the night, you stay prettily on your knees and obey dutifully. 

“I hear you, Din,” you struggle to get out with his thumb holding your tongue down, drool spilling from the corners of your mouth. 

Your thighs are on fire from your constant back and forth motion, the squelch of your slick rubbing across his shoe sending blood straight to his groin. He can feel himself itching to make you rise, to spread your legs and split you open until he can’t hold himself up anymore. But he knows you’re close even though you whine and plea for more. He knows your tells—the way your eyes struggle to stay open, the sweat beading at your temples, the way you slowly start to clamp down harder and harder on his thumb. His personal favorite, though, he discovered in this new position, is the way you start hugging tighter onto his leg, your chest rubbing against his thigh plate in an attempt to cool yourself off, but you’re just so close, the cool beskar doing nothing to ease the heat. 

“Just like that, pretty girl, come on,” Din groans, the sight before him truly testing his strength. You two have done many things together, but this? This is something new, and Din isn’t sure how long he can last. “I know you can give me one more, baby. Just one more, and then I get to feel you, come on,” he pleads, voice bubbling up into a whine. 

Oh, he’s starting to break, already? 

The thought is what sends you over, your hips stuttering in their rhythm as your arousal pours out of you, your clit shooting a sharp sensation up your spine at the sensitivity. “Dank farrik, you’re so damn gorgeous when you cum all over me, baby, so so gorgeous,” he pulls his thumb out and spreads your drool across your mouth, cradling your cheek softly in his palm as you shake in his grasp.

“Oh, fuck- oh yes, yesyesyes, Din,” you sob, head falling back between your shoulder blades. 

“Oh, my sweet girl, Maker, you’re so beautiful,” he coos, leaning down to let the forehead of his helmet rest against yours, your hot breath fogging his visor. He smiles to himself as his vision blurs momentarily. 

Din’s hands situate themselves beneath your armpits, pulling you up to your feet and supporting you as you allow your limp legs to gain their strength again. “Can I taste you, cyar’ika?” He asks as he wraps his arms around your waist, guiding you to sit on the armory crate in the corner of the hull. 

“Thought you said you wanted to feel me?” you retort, a small smirk forming on your flushed face. 

“Yeah,” he says as he drops down to his knees. “My tongue goes first.” Even with his helmet on, you can still hear the shit-eating grin with his comment. 

Din reaches for his helmet, the hiss of air signifying it’s about to come off never fails to cause butterflies to erupt in your belly. The minute his chocolate brown eyes meet yours, your heart grows two sizes greater. Your hands reach for his face. “There’s my pretty boy,” you whisper. 

His heart nearly jumps out of his chest at your words. He turns his head to kiss your palm. “My pretty girl,” he responds, bashful. “Lean back, baby.” You lay yourself back, body resting against the metal wall as his hands settle underneath you. 

Din brings himself forward, the flat of his tongue starting at the bottom of you and licking upwards—slowly, thoughtfully, calculated. He takes his time moving through your soaked folds, as if he’s mapping it out for the first time even though he’s mapped your body more times than the amount of bounties under his belt. 

The way you moan under his touch has him groaning into you, his fingers tightening their hold, his face more flush against you. He can’t get enough. His licks turn less controlled and more hungry; he uses his lips to help rub the surrounding area as he suckles every part of you he can, drinking you in, bathing in your slick as if to reclaim himself, as he did not too long ago in the Living Waters of Mandalore. His nose nudges your sensitivity as his tongue claims your entrance, the softness of your walls dancing with the softness of his tongue makes you breathless. 

Your fingers find their way into his curls, grabbing on in an attempt to ground yourself, to keep your soul beside him as he brings you to the brink of ecstasy for the fourth time since he’s been back. You whimper in distaste as his tongue leaves your hole, but the disappointment is quickly replaced by a whimper of desperation when his mouth wraps around your throbbing bud and he sucks. “Just- oh, fuck, Din- just like that,” you let out, your hips involuntarily lifting to buck into his face.

He’s quick to bring his mouth back down to your entrance, licking up every drop of the sweet nectar you always keep him full with. His nose massages your bundle as he drinks from you, and the action prolongs your climax and syrupy moans; Din works to pull as much as he possibly can from you. It’s been a week of rations and shitty meals he can sneak. So when such a delicacy is placed before him, solely for his taking, oh, he’s not going to waste a single drop. 

By the time he’s satisfied, the bottom half of his face is covered in your shine, the armory crate’s ledge is soaked, and you’re completely blissed out—face flushed and sweaty, tired eyes, a weak smile… to the average eye, you appear properly satiated. Although, Din knows that you are far from it.

“You alright, sweet girl?” Din asks, rising to his full height again. He brings his hand out for you to take, pulling you up to stand. Delaying your answer, you wrap your hands around his neck and pull him in for a messy, open-mouthed kiss, all tongue with your flavor embedded in each and every one of his taste buds. You moan into the kiss, pulling away with a bite to his plump bottom lip. “Perfect, baby,” you smile, pulling him to the makeshift bed—a pile of blankets—in the hull that you two sleep in. 

You drop yourself down onto your knees, beginning to work his armor off from his legs as he starts on his shoulders. With you helping, he’s down to his flight suit in no time, and your mouth salivates at the sight. As soon as the last clink of the precious metal leaves his body, you’re leaning your face into him, into his bulge, pressing sweet little kisses to its covered form. You can hear Din’s breath hitch, his cock twitching under your touch. “Need you in my mouth, Din,” you say as you look up at him, his eyes already hooded over at the sight of your mouth near his length. “My turn to taste you, huh, pretty boy?” You ask in a teasing tone, his face too hot to register that you’re waiting for a response from him. 

He finally registers the question when your hand dips into his bottoms, his hardness meeting your hand eagerly. You look at him expectantly. 

Although technically it’s his cock’s turn to feel you, he cannot bring himself to deny you or your skillful mouth. He cannot bring himself to deny anything you want, really. “Y-yeah- yes, baby, your turn,” he says shakily, the anticipation putting his body into sensitivity overdrive. 

He helps rip the rest of his flight suit off, and without giving him a second to breathe, you’re already spitting in your palm and working the length of him the way you know he loves. You use your mouth in tandem, your tongue licking from his base to his tip, and instantly, a loud whimper comes from the back of Din’s throat at this particular touch. 

You’re delighted by his reaction, so you repeat the motion a few more times to pull more of those sweet sounds out. “My baby is so sensitive here, isn’t he?” You pump him with your hand as you speak, placing a wet kiss to his tip when the foreskin pulls back to expose it. 

“Kriff…” he moans, his head suddenly too heavy to maintain upright. “Mesh’la, please,” Din begs. 

With one more kiss to the tip, you stop your hand’s movement completely. “Please what, baby? Use those words, honey,” you look up at him, eyes wide and full of promises to please—as soon as he vocalizes what he wants. 

His chest is heaving already at the sight of you, on your knees and looking up at him again, yet this time around, you’re the one calling the shots. 

He prefers it this way, he thinks. Sure, he comes back from a particularly frustrating hunt and ends up taking his stress out on you. Sure, it’s the most beautiful sight seeing you so worked up and at his mercy. But he is always the one in the driver seat—calculating everyone’s every turn, every action before they even have the chance to act. Din’s mind is always active, always alert. Yet, when you have him like this, in this yielding state, it’s like his mind gets to be quiet. With you, under your touch and under your gaze, Din is able to exist in your presence without a worry. He’s finally able to just be. Not a bounty hunter, not the big and tough Mandalorian everyone fears. No, he’s Din. Your Din. Your sweet boy. Yours. And that’s the greatest honor to ever bestow upon him. At least, that’s how he sees it anyway. 

“Y-your mouth, mesh’la, p-please,” he says softly. Your eyebrow quirks up. You want just a little bit more. “Want your- need your mouth on me, baby, please,” he breathes out, attempting and failing to ease the neediness in his voice. 

You hum triumphantly before you begin pumping him again, your hand focusing on his base while your mouth lavishes his leaking head. You swirl your tongue around, the salty flavor of him quick to override your senses, and Din lets out a strangled moan, his hips softly bucking in your grasp. 

Your hand releases him, letting your mouth take full control. You grab onto his thick thighs for stability, breathing through your nose as you let the tip of him reach as far back as you can handle. He gasps when he hits the back of your throat, the twitch of his body triggering your gag reflex, your throat tightening in on where he’s most sensitive. “Oh, fuck,” he grunts, fighting his hips to stay in place and let you do your thing. 

You garble something incoherent, humming into his cock as you pull yourself on and off of him a few more times. Pulling back for a small breather, you use your finger to collect up the spit-arousal mixture from the sides of your mouth and pump it on his erection, his hips twitching once again at your ministrations. 

You know what he really wants right now, but with his head in cloud nine, you know he’ll never ask for it himself. “You wanna fuck my mouth, Din?” You ask bluntly. 

His entire face and chest turn red faster than the speed of light. He sputters in his response. “I- oh my Maker, mesh’la, is that- are- are you sure? I-”

You cut him off by leaning in to kiss his thigh. He softens in your touch. “Din, pretty boy, it’s a yes or no. One word. Choose.” 

“Yes,” he replies, not a single hesitation in sight. 

“Good boy,” you purr. “See what happens when you say what you want from me?”

You shift yourself to a more comfortable position sitting on your haunches, fluffing the blankets underneath you to soften the ache of the metal floor. You look up to Din who’s watching you eagerly but with a softness that tells you to take all your time in the world. Doing this isn’t just for him, though. Letting him take control of you here turns you on just as much as it does him, maybe even more. 

You take one more glance into his thirsty eyes, and, well, okay… maybe he enjoys this slightly more. Nonetheless, you don’t take your time because you can feel the butterflies in your core beginning to flap once again as Din brings himself closer to you, lining himself up with your mouth.

“Don’t waste this opportunity, Djarin. Better use me good, yeah?” You tease, leaning your head back slightly as you stick your salivating tongue flat out, waiting for him to enter. 

His entire body shivers at your words. “Yes, ma’am,” he says under his breath, focusing on easing himself into your mouth as steady as possible, trying to maintain some ounce of self-restraint he’s inevitably going to lose. 

Once his tip is in your mouth, his hands find their home rooted at the base of your air, his thumb reaching forward to caress the apple of your cheeks. He doesn’t move at first, apprehensive in the case he might hurt you. He’s always like this at the beginning, and every single time, you reassure him it’s okay. 

You let out a muffled mhm, his signal to keep going. Din’s fingers flex, guiding your head further in as his hips slowly meet you halfway. He’s holding his breath, you can tell in the way his belly twitches. But the moment your swallow reflex triggers around him, he’s gone. “Oh, shit-” he moans ragged, his hips never fully retreating before he’s bucking into you again. “Oh, sweet girl, fuck-” he gasps. “Always so perfect, feel so perfect around me, stars, baby-” he praises, his hips moving at a comfortable, steady pace now. 

You moan around him, eyes rolling back at how good and heavy he feels coasting the expanse of your tongue. Your spit drips further down your chin and neck with each thrust, the messiness of it all mirroring itself between your thighs. Your hands leave the expanse of your thighs and reach for the blankets underneath you. As best as you can, you shuffle them in between you, using it to grind your hips on it, giving you a much needed relief. The material catches on your clit deliciously, pulling a muffled gasp from your throat, sending the sensation up Din’s spine. 

“Oh, fuck, look at you,” he groans, his eyes fighting to stay open at the raw pleasure coursing through his veins as he starts thrusting into you harder, faster. “So pretty, baby, fuck- thank you, pretty girl,” he rambles. “Maker, you feel so damn good.” 

Your moans and whines don’t stop, they reverberate off each metal wall and into his ears, providing him with the sweetest song. Din, ever the talker, is long lost in the way you feel and the way you move. 

“Keep moving those hips, sweet girl, rub that pretty pussy on our blankets, baby.” 

“Gonna cum like that again, baby? Gonna make a mess where we sleep?” 

“Shit, gonna make me lick it up and clean it? Please make me clean it, baby,” he whines, his hips beginning to falter. 

The last thing he says to you is what sends you over the edge, your fingers gripping the blankets below you, bringing it flush against your core as if it were Din’s curls you’re hanging onto. Your hips speed up, chasing the orgasm that is just right there, and with one last thrust forward, you’re cumming. You’re breathing heavily through your nose, tears streaming down your face as you whimper around his dick, begging for the one thing you know he’s not gonna give you. 

With a few more thrusts, you can feel his cock start to twitch, and just as you suspected, he pulls out of you before he can finish. 

“Baby, no,” you cry, leaning yourself forward, chasing after him. Right away, he’s dropping down to his knees, hands still on either side of your face as he’s finally eye level with you. 

“Baby, cyar’ika, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please,” he repents, his chest rising and falling heavily, still out of breath from edging himself. “I just- I didn’t- I… I wanted to cum somewhere else, baby,” his voice falls quieter, shyer. 

Your scowl fades, forming into a more mischievous demeanor, more hungry. You can’t quite argue his reasoning. Because, you, too, would very much like him to finish… elsewhere. “Yeah, baby?” You taunt. “And where do you wanna cum, sweet boy?”

He swallows thickly, his needy eyes on yours, blacked with a ferality he’s addicted to. “In- inside,” he whispers. 

“Inside?” you’re quick to repeat. “Wanna cum inside me, sweet boy? Fill me up? I’ve made so many messes today, is it your turn to make one, baby?”

He leans in to meet your kiss, but you pull away slightly. Answer me, your face tells him. 

“Y-yeah- yes, stars, yes- fuck- please, baby, I wanna cum inside you, wanna make a mess of you so fucking bad, please-” he starts to answer. Satisfied, you cut him off with your lips on his.

You wrap your arms around his neck, lips never breaking the seal, you pull him over you as you lay yourself down on your guys’ bed, scooting farther up for your head to reach a pillow, your back barely missing your puddle of arousal. Din multitasks, grabbing one of the other near pillows and placing it underneath your hips as your body lands on the ground. Your legs are already hooked onto his waist, not giving him the space to stray too far. 

Once you’re settled, Din’s hand is cradling the back of your head while the other reaches for his cock, covered in your wetness and leaking with his own arousal. He guides himself to you, running his tip along your slick folds, stopping to tap on your clit before bringing himself back down to your entrance. He breaks the kiss when he does this, his eyes laser focused on where you two connect. His hand on the back of your head pushes to angle you down, so you can watch, too, both of you observing and listening to the lewdness of it all. 

Finally, his head catches at your entrance, pushing himself in slowly. He’s always a stretch, always something you’ll never quite really get used to, but you love the feeling. Obsessed, even. There are some days where you rile him up on purpose just so he gives it to you, no preparation or foreplay. On those days, he has you screaming, your fingernails digging deep into his back to tether yourself to reality in some kind of way. On his softer days, you have to beg him to, reassure him that it doesn’t hurt—in a bad way. 

As soon as he’s seated all the way to the hilt, he pulls back out entirely before he thrusts back in. You both moan out at the action, your pussy immediately releasing a fresh new wave of arousal around him. “Oh, fuck,” you both mutter at the same time, your eyes meet, and a euphoric smile graces each of your faces. 

“Y-you feel so good, baby, s-so fucking big,” you mewl, your hands tightening their hold around his neck, both the tips of your noses kissing each other. 

“It’s like you were made- fuck-” he stutters, his hips slowing for a brief moment, allowing himself to really feel you. “It’s like I was made for you,” he corrects himself. “I was made for you,” he says again, leaning in to slot his lips against yours.

“Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum,” you say against his lips. I love you. “And I was made for you,” you squeak out, your head bobbing back and forth as the pleasure brings your mind further and further into space. 

“Shit, mesh’la,” he grits between his teeth. His hips speed up at that, loving the way his native tongue sounds on yours. “Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum,” he repeats back to you. “I’m yours, cyar’ika. Yours,” he murmurs, his head crashing into the crook of your neck and shoulder, sucking and biting at the sweaty flesh. 

He sits up on his haunches for a second, hooking the crook of his elbows into your knees before leaning back over you—the angle allowing him to hit so deep and allowing his pubic area to stimulate your pulsing nerve with every thrust in—you scream out as he repeatedly makes you feel things that no one has ever been able to do, not even yourself. 

“Din,” you keen, his name leaving your mouth like a sinful prayer. “Din, baby, please, I think I’m gonna- fuck-”

“Gonna cum again for me, pretty girl?” He smirks. “Fuck, I’m never gonna stop saying this- you’re so fucking perfect. Come on, baby, cum for me, fucking soak me. Soak me before I make you fucking overflow with me, my sweet girl,” he snarls, his lips meeting yours in a bruising kiss, truly a dance of tongue and spit as he fucks into you at the same pace that brought you to yet another climax. 

Your hands yank on his fluffy curls, back arching into his body as much as this restricting angle allows you to. “Din, oh my-! Fuck- so fucking good, fuck-” you wail out, your heart beating out of your chest as your pussy pulses around his cock, making an utter mess between your two lower halves. 

The flutter of you and the instant wetness consuming him is what sends Din to his finish line. He continues thrusting, shakily, through his own orgasm, his load coating every inch of you, both inside and out. You wanted a mess, so he truly gave you a mess. 

He releases the hold on your legs to wrap his arms around you, his entire body flush against yours as your legs wrap themselves tightly around him again. He’s still inside you, his hips softly still moving in and out as he leaves kisses all along your lips, your jawline, your neck. 

The way you feel, full of him and him, has your hips meeting his small advances, both of you reveling in the aftershock of your highs as you use the pleasure to ease you back down. 

“You okay, mesh’la?” Din asks eventually when you both come to an exhausted, satiated halt. 

“Perfect, my sweet boy,” you smile, repeating your sentiment from earlier. “You okay, though?” You ask hesitantly, and not about what you two just did together. He brings his lips to yours. Soft, and not in a way to arouse you again. In a way that says thank you and I love you in a way spoken tongue will never be able to convey.

“I will be,” he answers truthfully. “Pick a planet, you can pick me apart after we get food.”

“Sounds like a deal, baby.”

“Come, let’s get cleaned up.” He kisses your forehead before he untangles himself and pulls you up to your feet as well, both of you making your way to the refresher. 

In the corner of his eye, he sees his now semi-shiny boot, starting to dry off in the midst of everything else you two did. He smirks to himself. 

You catch it, of course. “What’re you smiling at, Djarin?”

“Nothing,” he says nonchalantly. “Just… I clean my armor and boots after every bounty.”

“And?” You ask, still not realizing where he’s headed. 

“I don’t know if I wanna clean my boots anymore.”

Your eyebrows raise to the middle of your forehead, eyes bulging out of your face. “Din!” you slap his chest. Then, your face goes stern. “You will be cleaning those boots more often if you want me to do that again."

Oh. 

“Yes, ma’am.”

End notes:

Thank you so much for reading, I really hope you guys enjoyed this one! Please let me know what you guys think, I really love hearing your guys’ reactions and feedback!🫶

Also, did y’all clock how many orgasms reader had in this damn thing?! Coochie of fucking steel fr 😭😭

Moon divider by @saradika-graphics 🩶

@pedrostories

#endless thoughts fics #pedro pascal #pedrohub #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal smut #smut #pedrostories #one shot #fic #smut fic #din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin smut #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian smut #din djarin x you #star wars fanfiction #din djarin x female reader

[decembermidnight]

Beskar and Pearls

Summary: Wearing the luxurious gift the Mandalorian gave you while accompanying him on a business trip turns out to be a pleasurable torture.

Pairing: Din Djarin x f!reader

Word count: 3.9k

Warnings: no plot - just smut, 18+ MDNI, teasing in public, Dom!Din, sub!reader, possessive!Din, lots of dirty talk, Din being a sexy arrogant asshole, glove kink, masculinity kink, humiliation kink, hair pulling, unprotected rough sex, mentions of exhibitionism kink, multiple orgasms, multiple creampies (wtf is a refractory period), a hint of overstimulation

A/N: the most coherent thoughts I have while ovulating. I have no excuse. This is FILTHYYYY I hope you enjoy it! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated!! Also a big thank you to @thefrogdalorian for making sure it's written in decent English and to @saradika-graphics for the perfect divider 💕

Masterlist - Read on Ao3

The Mandalorian has just landed his ship on Nevarro after spending an entire month catching quarries in the outer rim. He has been away most of the time, but he made sure he'd make up for it every time he came back, too proud and stubborn to admit with words that he missed you, but demonstrating it by spoiling you with luxurious gifts and his body.

You look at him in reverential adoration as he dresses in his armour – a blend of his Mandalorian heritage and the many trophies he acquired from his victims, dark red in colour and dented after many close encounters with death.

He's just finished strapping weapons everywhere on his marvellous body when he addresses you.

“Hey. Got this for you. Wear it. We’re going to the market, I have some business to attend to,” Mando says as he hands you a small drawstring pouch he was hiding in his utility belt.

You immediately open it and its content leaves you speechless. It’s the sexiest piece of underwear you’ve ever seen – an expensive-looking black lace thong with just a string of pearls meant to go between your pussy lips.

If he wants you to wear it while in Nevarro, a lawless planet full of dangerous bounty hunters, you will wear it under the shortest skirt you have. The mere thought of his eyes glued to your ass, hoping to get a glimpse of it while being vigilant of other men at the same time, makes your head spin. You let out an aroused sigh and look at him, impassive as always behind the dark visor.

“That should keep you busy,” Mando chuckles and tilts his helmet.

You immediately wear it along with that short, flowy dress that also happens to be his favourite one on you.

“Let me see it,” he says as his hands grab you by the waist. He brings you closer to him and immediately lifts your skirt. He kneels before you and lets out a satisfied hum when he sees the tempting way the pearls disappear into your slit. The Mandalorian lingers there, dark visor trained on that heavenly view as his gloved hands caress your thighs. The sharp contrast between the coarse leather and your delicate, soft skin gives you a thrill of pleasure. You guess – you hope – the trip won’t take long.

His chestplate rises and falls as he struggles to catch his breath and maintain his composure at the sight of your perfect cunt dressed in pearls. It’s incredible to see how something so dainty could turn out to be so perverse and sinful.

“Come on. Let’s go now,” he says as he stands up. Now at his full height, his imposing figure resumes towering over yours. You admire him in awe, taking in the broadness of his body and the way his armour magnificently highlights it.

He offers you his hand to descend the ramp and as soon as you start walking, you understand why he said that it would keep you busy. With every step that you take, the pearls pleasurably rub against your clit. You can feel yourself getting wet already. There's an aroused expression on your face that Mando does not miss.

"Are you enjoying it?" he asks teasingly.

"Yes," you answer and bite your lip.

"Good,” you can hear how pleased he is seeing you like that after you’ve barely taken a few steps out of the ship. You know the thought of you being so aroused in public while having to control yourself is making him hard. You decide to play his game, see where this leads.

Mando is walking right behind you, strutting proudly as he stalks you like a hunter follows its prey. You feel his gaze trained on your butt, so you accentuate the swaying of your hips to get more friction from the pearls and to seduce him even further, hoping to get a reaction from him.

"Shake your ass as much as you want, you're not getting anything until I'm done here. You're only getting this scum to see how pretty you are. I like it," he slaps your ass and chuckles. You bite your lip to muffle a whimper.

"See the way they're looking at you? If they dare even think of touching you, their dead body will touch the ground before they lay one finger on you," he whispers in your ear as he grabs your hand and positions it over his blaster.

"You are mine," he growls in your ear as he wraps his other hand around your waist. He pulls you close, until the flustered, naked skin of your back touches his cold beskar chest plate. A thrill of excitement traverses your whole body and goes straight between your legs.

No one would be so stupid to touch you, not when a Mandalorian is claiming you as his, not when you can feel his erection against your ass. The whole thing is making you light-headed with arousal, so much that you start to shamelessly rub your ass against his cock. His hand tightens its grasp around your waist as your head rolls back to rest on his shoulder. You sigh in his neck and his hand trails up and wraps around your throat.

"Behave now," the Mandalorian growls as you feel his fingers tightening their grasp, trying to restrain himself from giving into lust already.

“I want you,” you whisper in his neck.

“I know,” he replies confidently before releasing you. What an arrogant motherfucker. You want to make him so hard he’ll want to bring you back to the ship and fuck your brains out, putting his desire for you before his stupid pride and his business. You want him to surrender to his carnal instinct.

The more steps you take, the more desperate you become for relief from this agonising, yet pleasurable torture. The pearls are stimulating your clit mercilessly, without ever getting you close to an orgasm. Your cunt spasms and clenches and what's worse is that he knows. Mando has spent so long quietly studying his bounties that he can tell by the irregular way you're breathing that you're struggling with the sensation. You bet he's enjoying every second of it, smirking under the helmet.

Just before entering the market area, he pulls you closer to him one more time, making you gasp.

"Now be quiet. You wouldn't want to fuck up my business. Be a good girl," he whispers softly in your ear as you feel his hand on your lower belly—close, so close to where you want him the most. Maker, he’s rock hard. You can feel it. You can’t think of anything else when his erection is pressing against your ass and his arm is tightly wrapped around your waist. He lets you go and you enter the market area together.

You try to divert your attention on whatever item they’re selling in the stands but it’s mostly weapons and things for bounty hunters that you couldn’t care less about. You can feel your arousal starting to drip down your legs, making your inner thighs slippery. Your swollen clit is pulsing and begging for attention, but Mando has been clear - you’ll get nothing until I'm done here, and you know nothing could make him change your mind, unless you play your cards right.

He grabs a seat in a beat-up wooden booth, his legs spread wide due to the massive erection trapped in his pants. There is an undeniable air of confidence and arrogance to him when he sits like this, looking so imposing and authoritative. You wish you could just drop to your knees and please him in any way he wants.

"Be my good pretty whore and sit here," Mando invites you to sit on his thigh and you immediately comply. You're so damn wet, you can't keep your legs closed.

"Hmm? Sitting here like this with your legs spread open? Do you want everyone to see your pretty cunt? Better let them know to whom this belongs, don't you think?" he coos in your ear with his husky voice. He knows you're both perfectly concealed and no one could see what's going on under that table. He's doing that just to prove a point—that you belong to him.

You nod mindlessly as his hand cups your cunt and stays there, still, without moving.

"Mando. Mando I need–" you whisper in his neck in a trembling voice.

"Oh. I know," he says, pleased when he sees how flustered you're getting. "Not yet," he growls as one of his gloved fingers trails your slit. He stops right before your clit, making you whimper and grip his arm tight in response. You dig your nails in his flightsuit as he feels how unbelievably wet you are.

"Hey. Behave now," he whispers as a Rodian approaches the booth and takes a seat, greeting him with a nod of his head. He immediately hands Mando a puck.

You have no idea what they’re talking about – you can't focus on anything else apart from the way Mando’s gloved hand holds the puck. You look at his fingers with pure lust, thinking of them touching your clit, pumping inside your cunt, the coarse leather caressing your skin. 

You let your hand trail on his inner thigh and he stays surprisingly calm, not flinching one bit as your fingertips slowly slide higher, until they finally meet his cock. He is so unbelievably hard, you feel him throbbing underneath your fingers as you trail them all over his length. The Mandalorian won't betray any emotion, which turns you on even more. He's perfectly calm and collected on the outside, but you bet he'd love to throw you on that table and bury himself in you.

As soon as the Rodian hands Mando a handful of credits as an advance, he leaves.

"Please. Please, I need you," you whisper in his neck.

"I'm not done here. Be patient."

The throbbing need between your legs causes you to ache so badly that you don’t notice another man has approached and taken a seat until he begins speaking with the Mandalorian.

They're speaking in a foreign language, and Mando’s interlocutor does not seem happy. Judging by their tones of voice and gestures, they appear to be negotiating the fee for Mando collecting a certain bounty that the man needs capturing and he is displeased that Mando commands a high price. You’ve learnt over the time you’ve spent with the Mandalorian that there's not much room for negotiation with him. He has leverage since he's regarded as being the best bounty hunter in the outer rim. The way he speaks is so confident, it makes you even wetter how he does not lose composure while the other man is basically yelling at him. 

He starts running his thumb on the string of pearls digging in your slit, feeling how wet you are for him as he keeps talking to his client while you're sitting in his lap, doing nothing but looking pretty. You're his slut and he wants everyone to know it, but you have to act cool even as he teases you under the table. You have to control the way you breathe, you can't let even the smallest whimper out. Why is this so hot? Why is he so hot?

In the end, the man hands him a hefty amount of credits and rises from the table with a huff, muttering and cursing as he goes.

"Please, take me back to the ship and fuck me. I won't ask for anything else, please," you whisper sensually in the crook of his neck.

"I'm not done here," he tries to appear impassive, but as soon as you resume your touching between his legs, he jerks slightly. You smirk, satisfied.

"Mando…" you trace the outline of his cock with your fingers, feeling how hard his erection is while purring in his neck. His pants are thick, but as you stop right at the tip, drawing circles on it with your fingertips, you can feel the fabric getting slightly damp.

“You’re so hard…” you sigh sensually as you keep rubbing his cock. You hear a choked grunt from him, now that he can’t focus on his job anymore, now that he’s at the mercy of your teasing. You’re so tempting, acting so shameless in public, the thrill of someone noticing the two of you drives him insane and you know it. You’re finally getting your revenge. You can bet he's close to losing control. Mando is twitching in his pants, his breathing getting heavier and heavier...

"Fuck it." He grabs you by the arm and you rush out of the market and back to the ship.

The Mandalorian doesn't even wait for the ramp to close behind him to bend you over the first crate he finds, kicking your legs open with his feet and freeing his throbbing erection. His gloved hands run up your skirt and position themselves around your hips, keeping you steady for him as he slams into you all at once. He meets no resistance from your drenched cunt whatsoever, leaving you breathless as you exhale in a loud moan. You're crushed between the crate and his beskar body, pleasurably forced to take his thick cock. You're only able to let out ragged groans and clamp tightly around him as he finally gives it to you just like you wanted.

"You. Fucking whore. Couldn't wait for me to finish my business. Wanted this dick so much, hm? Are you happy now?!" his thrusts are furious and relentless, his hips crushing your body against the crate with a devastating force. The angle at which he's hitting you is deep, so deep that you can't even prop yourself up on your shaky elbows. You're just getting brutally fucked without dignity.

"You get so disobedient when you want this cock. Maybe I should just tie you up and gag you?"

You can't even mumble words, too absorbed by the feeling of his cock thrusting inside of you, so aroused at the idea of him using your body for his pleasure.

"You're so wet. Damn. It must have been such a torture, right? To be so wet and turned on? Hearing you beg like that made me so fucking hard. Feel it. Feel what you do to me," he rasps as he rails you deep and hard.

The way the pearls are rubbing against your clit and the perfect rhythm of his thrusts are driving you close to the edge already.

"Mando, Mando, I'm–" you can barely mumble as you helplessly drag your hands against the crate.

"Yeah. Come. Seems like it's the only thing that will make you obedient. You wanted it so much, you can have as many as you want today."

'Thank you, thank you, tha–" your blissful chant is abruptly cut as the orgasm takes control over your body. Your cunt clenches hard around his thick cock and your legs jerk uncontrollably, barely touching the ground as he keeps you still and never stops drilling into you as you ride your high. The pleasure is so intense, it leaves you breathless as your cunt keeps involuntarily spasming around him in aftershock. You're panting against the metal crate beneath you, overwhelmed and reduced to a trembling, feeble mess, the coldness of it is a relief against the hot, flustered skin of your body that won't stop begging for him.

"Is this what you wanted, hm? For me to stop everything I was doing to come here and take care of you? Needy girl. You desperately wanted attention, hm?"

You can only mumble in assent, feeling the way he takes out his rage on you.

"Bet you would've let me fuck you in a dirty fucking alley if I wanted to."

"Y-yes–" you reply in a breathy groan, drenching yourself at the mere thought.

"What a slut. What if someone heard you screaming like that? What if someone heard how wet this pussy is when I fuck it? Fuck, you're dripping!"

For a man who barely speaks in normal circumstances, he sure does like to run his mouth when he's buried deep inside of you.

"Yeah. I bet you'd like it if someone saw me fucking you like the slut that you are," he pants and you start whimpering and clamping around him at the idea.

"I knew it. You're such a whore. But you are mine, and I won't let anyone hear these pretty moans and see this perfect cunt. They belong to me. To me," he growls.

"Yes – yes. I fuck–ing b-belong to you," you repeat mindlessly.

"Does it get this much to get you this wet? Just a string of pretty pearls? Looking so fucking good. So fucking good. Are you enjoying it?"

"Yes, Mando!"

"Shit, you're so tight. You're making me come," he says in a broken voice. His thrusts get erratic, as does his breathing "This cunt is so perfect, so fucking perfect," he emphasises the very last word before bursting, spilling hot and wet inside of you in a ragged groan, whining at how good it feels. His muscles tense and he gets rigid behind you, his head rolling back in pleasure.

"Oh, fuck! You're so hot. Spill all of your cum inside of me. Like this, yes!" you cry and start touching your clit, so turned on at the sight and feeling of his orgasm.

The sounds he makes as he comes are the hottest ones you have ever heard. The infamous Mandalorian – stoic, imposing and menacing – is getting lost in the overwhelming pleasure you’re offering him. Your drenched, tight pussy is making that dangerous warrior crumble. You’re so aroused, you need more.

"Please, please don't stop fucking me!" you dare asking him.

"I won't," he grunts as he keeps burying his dick deep, so deep inside of you.

"Don't stop. Don't stop. Oh, fuck, I need you to fuck me harder, please!" you plead as you feel his cum starting to drip down your hole. "Maker, please!" you say as you start frantically slapping and rubbing your clit as you hear the obscene, sloppy sounds of his cock thrusting in and out of you, of his hips slamming against your ass.

"I won't stop. Fuck, I want more. I can't stop. You drive me fucking insane!" he growls, resembling a wild beast, completely overwhelmed by lust. You feel his cock still pulsing inside of you as you get even wetter.

"Look at this perfect cunt. You're so full of my cum, damn, you can't ever get enough of it, can you? Fucking cum slut. Look what you make me do. Just came inside of you but I can't stop fucking this perfect cunt. You want to drain me. Are you proud of yourself, hm? Making me so fucking hard in public and teasing me like the whore that you are."

"Fuck, yes, I'm your whore. Your slave. I'm so close, please–" you mutter deliriously while your fingers and the pearls are rubbing against your clit in a wet, nasty mess of your fluids and his cum. You come hard around him once again, strangling his spent, sensitive cock in your tight grasp and hear him grunting, his grip on your hips tightens and his whole body jerks, but he really can’t have enough.

"Yeah. Yeah. Come on my fucking cock, whore. Let me feel it." he encourages you, gritting those words between his teeth, fighting his own oversensitivity, so addicted to the way you feel around him.

He doesn't stop fucking you, not even after your orgasm. He keeps railing you relentlessly. You bring your hand to your mouth and suck your fingers, tasting the bitterness of his cum blended with the slightly salty taste of your fluids on your tongue. Its taste is addicting, the scent heady and intoxicating in the best way possible.

"You taste so good, Mando. We taste so good together," you drawl, overwhelmed by pleasure.

"Yeah, I bet we do," he grabs a handful of your hair and pulls it to lift your head up, giving it to you even harder, making your eyes roll back in your head. You are screaming, completely entranced by the way his cock is still pumping hard inside of you.

"So damn loud. You like being fucked like this, hm?"

He hits even harder from this angle, keeping you nice and still for him to use as he pleases. You're so busy screaming that you can't even reply to him.

"Yeah. Scream as loud as you want. Let me hear how much you want it. I like it."

You can feel his cum dripping down your legs with every thrust, hearing the sloppy, squelching sounds your bodies make. Mando can't even restrain himself anymore, he’s moaning and sighing at how much he's enjoying it. Your cunt is spasming around him, turned on at the way he sounds.

"You like it, hm? To reduce me like this?" he says in between thrusts.

The truth is that yes, you do. You love making the Mandalorian falter with your teasing, making him so desperate and boiling with lust, he has to leave business to fuck you hard, so hard that any coherent thought leaves your mind. You love it when you can feel the man under all that beskar, when he makes you feel like the most important and beautiful thing in the galaxy.

"Yeah, you do," he answers himself as he slows his rhythm, slipping out of you completely only to slowly bury himself inside of you to the hilt, enjoying the view and feeling of his cock entering into your cunt dripping with his cum.

You bite your lip to muffle your screams just to hear him moaning and sighing as he feels the welcoming warmth of your cunt.

“Mando. Mando, please,” you beg as you feel your legs impatiently shaking as his shaft rubs that perfect spot inside of you with each thrust.

“What?”

“Harder. Please?” you beg, subjugated by that perfect teasing.

He slams into you so deeply that you feel it pulsing against your cervix.

“What? Like this? Hm?” he says as he starts to jackhammer you.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes,” you chant as you resume touching your clit.

“Greedy whore. Ready for another one? I'm not stopping.”

“Mmmm,” you can only reply as you feel another wave of overwhelming pleasure approaching.

You hear him panting as he gives you a few more violent, deep thrusts, driving you over the edge one more time.

“Yeah. Take it – fucking t-take–” he grunts when he feels your walls clenching around his cock, your orgasm pushing him over the edge, too.

A loud, violent snarl rips through his lips as he comes, filling you with his white, thick load once again. The grip of his hands around your hips turns to steel, your eyes roll up so high all you can see is pitch black as he keeps pumping his cock into you as you both ride your high. The feeling completely obliterates you, turning your body and mind into a helpless, exhausted mess.

A huge, satisfied grin forms on your face as you feel him slowly slip out of you and his cum starts dripping down your cunt and legs.

“Good work," he pants "now be a good girl and wait for me while I go back there. Don’t move one muscle and maybe we will pick up where we left off,” he says as he tucks his spent cock in his cum stained pants, not giving a shit about it, looking at the mess he made of you, disrupted and leaking with his seed. Wrecked, used, marked. His.

#din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin x female reader #pedro pascal #din djarin smut #din djarin x you #din x reader #mandalorian fanfic #din djarin x reader #din djarin fanfiction #din x f!reader #din x you #din djarin fic #mando #the mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian smut #star wars smut #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal smut #mando x you #mando x reader #oneshot #mando smut #smut #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandolarian #mando x f!reader #din djarin x f!reader

[tremendum]

where to start 

(gif not mine) pairing: din djarin x afab!reader (gender not specified, descriptions of afab genitalia)     rating: explicit.  (18+. mdni.)     requested: yes, here !!! word count: 2.7k  summary:  Din lets out a shaky sigh, finally turning around in the chair to face you, legs spread slightly, "it's not like- I don't not want to- I just haven't-I don't know where to start."  warnings:  SMUT. there’s like no plot. teasing, PiV (unprotected), Din has a praise kink, he begs, inexperience, loss of virginity, brief allusion to rough sex if you squint, yall cant convince me Din isn’t a stuttering little mess, riding in the pilot’s seat!!, sliiiight dom!reader, slight discussion of Din being ashamed he’s a virgin, idk what else tbh  notes:  thank u for requesting this! i just wrote it in like 30 mins haha. i hope yall like it i love my space cowboy boyfriend <3  this is unedited. reblogs/comments always motivate me hehe

   [other din fic          din series (be like me): masterlist  ]

★  

you stare at the cold metal in front of you. 

it stares back silently. 

your hand is itching to just go knock, to raise a few inches and rap your knuckles upon its shimmering, textured surface; it'll be so simple. so easy, definitely one of the easier things you've ever done. 

but the conversation that awaits on the other side- well.

that's not so simple. 

"why don't you go over there, Din?"  a glint of beskar as his head whips to you, alarmed. thrown off. a head tilt of irritation, "excuse me?"  a raise of your eyebrows, "oh, sorry, didn't realize we were playing innocent." you jut your chin towards the young woman who stands, twirling her hair and making bedroom eyes at Din from across the bar. jealousy curls up your throat - he'd been staring in her direction since you'd arrived, too. "come on, she's been staring at you the whole time. go- go do your thing." 

"that isn't funny." he mutters, causing the chilled pint of ale between your fingers to sear you as you flush. tough crowd.  "why do you assume I'm joking, hm?" you tilt your head again and he shakes his head. it's painful, the way you and Mando have been dancing around each other for weeks. a brush of a leather hand on the small of your back, a kind chuckle at something you say, your hands soothing over the thick cowl that hides his sore knots - the ones that form in his shoulders from carrying the jetpack - a murmur of your name when you're in danger, the curling of your hand around his arm in crowded public spaces. you're sure it's torture, but it seems neither one of you can make the move. 

"she's not looking at me like- like anything." he dismisses, arms curling over themselves in a cross of defense. you hum a laugh; who wouldn't look at Mando like that? 

"oh, c'mon. jus'go up and talk to her. she's probably dying for a big man like you to toss her around." you elbow him, winking. a slick, regretting coil of envy curls around your stomach as you take in the way his helmet tilts from you back to her; what the fuck are you doing? you silently beat yourself up, cheeks hot with the swirling complacency that befalls you following several drinks of ale. you sound like a complete moof milker as you let yourself encourage Mando to- to what, pursue another woman? 

how does that make sense to your brain?  

there's an echoing thud as Din slams his fist hard on the bartop. you jump, eyes wide as he shakes his head, turning to stalk straight out the doors, leaving you behind in his anger. 

yeah. the wall has never been so daunting before. 

you know you upset him earlier. he's been cooped up inside his bunk the whole night after you returned alone from the cantina, and no matter how much you've tried to ignore it, you know that it's your fault that you've made him angry. 

your fist raises. 

the metal whooshes before you can make contact, though, and your eyes meet the hard chest of beskar before you can take a step back. a soft oh leaves your lips as his helmet tilts microscopically down towards you for a moment; he's pushing hard past you with a fierce silence and without a second glance in your direction. 

"wait!" you call as he disappears up into the cockpit, the silence sterile in the Crest as he stalks out of view. you chew your lip as you scramble to follow him, knowing you at least owe it to him to apologize for what you'd said. 

he's sitting in the cockpit, fiddling with the controls as you soon start to engage in liftoff protocols; a thudding jolt as the Crest lifts off sends you stumbling into the chair as you stare, wide-eyed, shocked at Mando's abrupt behavior. he didn't even warn you that he was preparing your next track. 

you try; you really do. seven different attempts - yes, you counted them - to get him to speak, casually commenting on the smoothness of the Crest after your last maintenance day, asking him if he remembered the coolant you'd forgotten a few cycles ago, telling him about Grogu catching a flying-Banda and swallowing it whole mid-air; stupid shit. 

all you got in response was silence.

a sigh, maybe - his helmet wouldn't turn anywhere near you, and your glare cuts through the glinting on his head as stars race above you. it was just like when you'd first met, agreeing to go with him and work maintenance or grogu-sit when he needed it, and existing in weeks of silent tension, the man surrounded in so many walls that he could be armor-less and still the most impenetrable person in the galaxy. 

he was cold. you'd pushed him back into the shell you'd spent months working to chip away. 

"Din." you say flatly, crossing your arms. he doesn't respond; not even a huff, or a grunt, or a movement of muscle to indicate he heard the word. 

"look, I just- I want to apologize. okay?" you say desperately, shaking your head. but he catches you off guard yet again as he speaks up, voice heavy and more hot than normal; like he's been stewing with his thoughts for far too long. 

"-I don't want some random woman. I don't just sleep with anybody because I think they're attractive." his voice moves through the cockpit in defiance and you sit back in your chair, blinking for a moment. oh.  

you clear your throat, unsure how to approach what he's said; a sick, twisted part of you scowls at his insinuation that he'd found the woman from the bar attractive; but of course he did. she was. and you're unable, still, to deny the throbbing ache of desire that dully spreads through you at the very dim prospect that you are not just a random woman to him.

"I was out of line. I over-stepped." you try again. 

"do you think I'm upset that you teased me back at the cantina?" he clips, taking you off-guard. your brows furrow, tilting your head, "y-yes?" it comes out like a question of your own, in your doubt. 

he sighs. the weight of it smashes you back as you furrow your brows; he will not go into another bout of silence again, you won't let him. no. 

"what is it, Din?" you ask gently, leaning your elbows onto your knees. 

he breathes out, hand twitching by his side. "I just-"

you're not sure what spurs his sudden admission; be it from frustration or a genuine desire to confide in you, his only companion besides a 50-year-old baby. 

"I don't have- I don't have much experience." he admits, voice laced with embarrassment. he sounds much more unsure of himself than normal. "because of the Creed- I have lived differently than others." 

oh. oh.

you flood with emotion, eyes flying wide. "oh, Din-" you feel like you're on fire in embarrassment, shaking your head in regret, "I'm- I didn't even think about that. I shouldn't have-" 

"please," he almost whimpers it, "stop." 

you do. 

he lets out a shaky sigh, finally turning around in the chair to face you, legs spread slightly, hands on his lap. "it's not like- I don't not want to- I just haven't-I don't know where to start." 

you nod, throat dry. his composure, the sweet genuine tilt in his voice; your underwear slicks as you wait for him to continue. the air feels... thick with anticipation. 

he's breathing more shallowly, his hands gripping his beskar thighs as he keeps your gaze. "I don't...know how to get what I want from..." he stops, his helmet fully facing you. your words are dead on your tongue as you stare at him; your heart thunders as you beg him to say it. 

"from you." he finishes, body still as he awaits your reaction. 

heat spreads through your entire body as you stare at him, fire licking your fingertips. he wants- he wants you. he wants you. 

you swallow your fears in one sentence, "have you considered... asking?" 

your voice has it's desired effect. his chest almost shivers as he lets out a soft breath, hands clenching as you stand from your seat to walk, slowly, towards his chair. you're more than thankful you'd had the thought to change from your hunting clothes; your shorts, breezy and loose, sit barely below the curve of your ass and you don't miss the way Din's helmet moves with the sway of your hips.

his helmet tilts to stare up at you when you set your hands on each side of his arm rests, leaning in close. you can smell his scent as you smile sweetly, "I would say yes, you know." you whisper next to his helmet as he lets out a strangled noise. 

it’s a split second before he shakily groans. "I want you." he finally gasps, "I need you." 

you let out your own shaky breath as arousal floods your underwear, arousal swirling in your stomach. "I want you too, Din." you press a soft kiss to his forehead, the cool beskar tingling your heated, desiring lips. 

his hands remain clenched until you slide yourself onto his lap, settling yourself to straddle him in the pilot's chair, a fantasy you've imagined almost every night since you've met the man. you don't even suggest removing the beskar; he deserves to be comfortable as possible, and you flush when you realize you like the sharp bite of the metal on your bare skin. 

your hands explore the long, sturdy planes of his chest and neck, over the ruched material, threads loose under the tips of your fingers, armor cold. you can feel him under your aching heat; he's already semi-hard, his breath falling from his helmet in breathy grunts as you slowly, gently rock against him. "you can touch me, Din." 

it's like he's snapped to life; hands fly up to your hips, tugging your chest impossibly close as he mutters into your ear, "fuck, cyare." 

it starts slow; your bodies glued to each other, exploring every inch you'd desire to discover before, the blue-electric lights of hyperspace coaxing the two of you into a dreamlike state. 

but he gets desperate quick. 

he's groaning, straining hard and thick against his flightsuit; as your hand falls to palm him as you rock your clothed clit over the material, you're momentarily concerned that if you aren't warmed up before taking him, he may not fit. "you're so big, Din." you whisper as your lips flutter along the seam of skin exposed between his helmet and cowl. he lets out a moan of your name, one hand pulling you by your back towards him, the other digging into the plush of your ass, sneaking under the fabric of your sleep shorts. 

"cyare, please-" he gasps, voice begging, "need to- need to be inside you." 

you smile, kissing the hot skin of his pressure point, tongue slinking up as his heart pounds. "there, that's how you ask, Din." 

you press another kiss to him, your hands moving to undo his flight suit, pulling his thick cock out; he ruts upwards with a sharp moan, hand digging into your ass so hard it may leave marks. 

pre-cum leaks out of him in beads; he's so goddamn hard, whimpering at your touch. you feel your slick dampen your thighs through your underwear, shivering with desire. 

you pull your underwear to the side swiftly, rising onto your knees as he stables your hips up above him. his chest sputters, grunting as you start to move your hips, teasing him with your velvety wet cunt. 

broken grunts of Mando'a leave his helmet, his fists tightening as his helmet falls back to thud against the back of his pilot's chair. "please, mesh'la, please." he mutters. 

you can't wait any longer; soon you're shifting, prodding yourself over his head, gently taking just a bit of him inside you. your gasps are in tandem at the tight, warm stretch; "Din, y'gonna fill me up so well." 

he moans at that, hands rising to hold your shoulders, his thick, muscled arms swallowing your frame as he hums, "fu-uck, n-need you mesh'la." 

you nod, your breath fogging up his helmet as you desperately shift your hips, preparing to take him into you. and then slowly, you let your legs relax slightly. 

"M-Maker-" Din stutters, the weight of his helmet dropping onto your shoulder as you slowly lower yourself; his cock, thick and warm, eases you open gently, the pain of his stretch curling your toes in your boots. “yes,” you hiss, swallowing dryly as your hands, stabilizing themselves on his neck and shoulder, grip tight. 

you have to ease yourself down onto him; his hips buck up harshly, as if he can't help himself, his tip sheathing so far into you that it prods at your tender cervix, causing you to yelp in pleasure. 

"s-sorry." he mutters, hands shaking as he holds on to you, "can't-f-fuck, it feels so- you feel so warm. y'so tight. ’m not gonna-" 

you nod desperately, starting to move yourself, fucking him slow as his hands hold you. 

"feels good. you're so good, you're so good for me." you mutter, causing his cock to twitch deep inside you. he moans loud as you mutter praises, his cock so deep; dragging through your walls, hitting an angle which nudges that delicious spot inside you.

a groan of your name has you smiling as you suck a mark dark onto his neck; you start to build up the pace, the simmering arousal soon spurring you to chase the building pleasure. 

"yes, yes." you nod, peppering kisses over his throat, nails clawing to expose more of the forbidden, golden skin. you feel him clench below you; his hard, cold thighs tense under the beskar, the muscles of his abdomen flexing under the protection as the lewd noise of your connection echoes through the cockpit. 

he's close, you know it. 

you want him to cum, you want him to be consumed by it; you want him to consume you, you want to consume him. you tug him as you maintain your pace, legs burning as you chase your own orgasm. 

"y'gonna cum, Din?" your voice is laced sultry and aroused, fogging his helmet as he nods, broken moans of ecstasy leaving his helmet. "yes, f-fuck- I-" 

"yes, cum, baby." you mutter, his hips soon spurring to thrust up and meet your own movements, the pet name making him shiver. you let out a yell, cracking with pleasure as he holds you immediately to you, his whimpers echoing with your moans. 

he finishes with a moan of your name and a slam of his fist hard onto the console next to you; all of the lights in the cockpit shut off at his action but you can barely notice as his orgasm paints your channel, hot and thick. you're out of breath as he rides out his high, ropes of cum filling you. 

he twitches inside of you as you stutter to a stop, your wetness causing a stain on his flightsuit below you. 

his head lifts from your shoulder, voice wrecked, chest panting. "you didn't- you didn't finish." he sounds confused, embarrassed. 

you flush at his statement - he just had sex for the first time, and is disappointed you didn't cum? you let your hands rub soothing circles over the parts of his shoulders that aren't covered with armor. 

"n-no, Din- that was 'bout you." you sigh, pressing a gentle kiss to the contoured beskar of his cheek. "we have next time." you ensure him, gasping as his hips still rock up into you gently, his softening cock pushing his cum deeper inside of you; holding it there. 

keeping him inside you. 

he stiffens, head rising to look at you. "no." he mutters, his hands dragging down your spine, catching on your hips, sliding back up to grope your breasts. "show me how to make you cum now. please, mesh'la." 

another rush of arousal floods you, shivers running down your body as you grin with a flush. resisting a loud moan of desire, you nod gently.  "okay." 

- 

requests open

- 

#din djarin smut #din djarin x reader #din djarin fluff #the mandalorian smut #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x reader smut #the mandalorian fluff #din djarin #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut #star wars fanfiction #star wars smut #star wars #din #din x reader #din x reader smut #tremendum’s space cowboy✒️

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

Familiar & Unfamiliar

din djarin x female!reader

warning: attempted sexual assault (not by our boy mando, and i don’t describe it in depth the furthest it goes is non-consensual kissing), light smut, angst then comfort, then fluff fluff fluff, identity theft, mentions of slave trade, canon violence, dom!din trying hard to be sub!din for you, he doesn’t succeed for long

word count: 4,174

Summary: You travel the galaxy with a Mandalorian who is much softer than his impenetrable beskar would lead others to believe. He leaves you with his son to search for a Quarry, but it’s not the Mando you’ve come to know and love who returns to you.

“It shouldn’t take long.” Mando hummed as he collected his gear from his weapon’s storage. You sat cross legged on the Razor Crest’s floor with the child in your lap. His small green hand played with the small, metal ball he seemed to always find. Your hand stroked his ears only stopping to push the ball away from his mouth when he began to try and chew on it. Mando turned around to stare down at you. “Will you be alright here?”

After traveling with the Mandalorian for the last two months, babysitting and completing repairs on the ship, you had finally grown accustomed to the silver beskar covered man. Initially it had been difficult for you to even look at the man for longer than a second⏤ too intimidated by the black t-shape visor that stared back at you. However, joining him had been your only option at the time, an act of self preservation, so you had to push your fear aside. Luckily, you had quickly learned that though the metal he was covered in was impossible to penetrate, the man underneath was as soft as they come.

You learned that the solemn, silent, and dangerous facade Mando wore was more or less an interpretation of what people saw. Yes, he was dangerous. You had seen him wrestle quarries three time his size and come out unscathed, but you had also seen him humming a song under his breath while giving the child a bath. You had seen Mando go out of his way to purchase you a new pair of boots in the market simply because he noticed your discomfort with your current pair. The brief times you felt his touch, a brush against your arm or a hand on your back, it was soft and comforting. His eyes were impossible to see behind his helmet, but you could feel the care in his gaze. Having Mando’s attention on you felt like safety.

Mando called out your name and you blinked in surprise. “Oh, um, yeah! We’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

“I shouldn’t be gone long. Days at most.” He reassured before you could even ask. You stood up and Mando drifted closer⏤ his gloved hand reached out brush the child’s head. Mando chuckled when his son cooed and giggled in response. You heard a long time ago that the best judge of a person’s character was how they treated animals and children. Mando passed that test with flying colors. “You remember the rules?”

“Hmm, no running with scissors?” You joked. Mando tilted his head and you chuckled. “Don’t open the Razor Crest’s ramp for anyone but you, and if I do have to leave for some emergency, get to a crowded spot with plenty of witnesses and talk to no one. Not until you come for us.”

Mando nodded in approval. He gave the child’s head one last pet along the ears and as his hand pulled away you felt his leather covered fingers drag down the length of your bare arm. Heat crept up the back of your neck and you prayed to any deity that was listening that Mando hadn’t heard the hitch in your breath. You were not attracted to your metal armored Mandalorian employer and friend. At least that’s what you kept telling yourself. 

Without another word, Mando made his way to the back of the cargo hold. He opened the ramp before heading down and you called out for him to be careful. Mando glanced over his shoulder, at you and the child, and you waved. You stood at the cargo hold’s edge as Mando pressed a button on his gauntlet and the ramp began to rise. As the metal door rose, you stared at the mandalorian’s back until the ramp cut him off from sight.

Din was more distracted than usual and he told himself it wasn’t because of the newest addition to the Razor Crest. It obviously wasn’t because of you. No, he was just busy with all the bounties he was juggling and the stress of trying to find the child’s people. Then the added dilemma of his current quarry. Already he had been on the flesh trader’s trail for three days. Three full days. That was nothing in comparison to past hunts that would take him weeks on end, but Din found his patience wearing very, very thin.

“Are you ready yet, mate?” A voice asked through the closed door. 

Din had to resist the urge to roll his eyes. His only lead came from a mercenary who was hunting an Inner Rim politician that had come all the way out here to participate in the slave trade. It was the only access Din would have to get into the market to find his quarry and it came at a cost. Din glanced down at the helmet held in his hands. It was an oddly shaped red thing from Kaleesh culture. His new mercenary partner made it very clear that if he walked in as a Mandalorian everything would be lost. On any normal bounty Din would’ve risked it anyways. There was very little in the galaxy that could coax him out of his armor, leave him bare to the world, but a child in danger did it. 

A mother had come to him after he searched for a lead in the local cantina on his first night. She had fallen to her knees in front of him and begged for his help⏤ she offered everything she owned and more in return. Her only child, an eleven year old little girl, had been stolen away from her. Dragged to the flesh market to be sold. Din swore to her that he’d bring her back. On his word as a Mandalorian, she would be reunited with her daughter. He just wasn’t allowed to do it looking like a Mandalorian.

“Seriously, mate, we’re going to be late!” Trigg, the mercenary, barked once more.

Din settled the helmet over his head and shifted uncomfortably. It didn’t fit quite like his real one did, but it was tight enough that he wasn’t worried about it falling off in the heat of battle. For a second, he just stared at himself in the mirror. Red armor of cloth and leather covered every inch of his skin, black gloves pulled on tight, and his oddly shaped helmet covered his face entirely. Din hated it more than anything. But, the sooner he saved the girl and caught his quarry, the sooner he could return to his ship. Return to the child and you.

“I’ll be right out.” Din called back. He settled all his beskar armor pieces into the tarp bag he had borrowed from the child’s mother. It was her home they were using as a base of sorts. Din hid the bag in the closet of the room behind a stack of boxes. It made him anxious to leave his armor behind, but he forced himself to step away and open the door.

Trigg stood in the hall wearing his own personal gear. The blond man had scars from a raking claw on the side of his head leaving those patches with sparse hair. His arms were crossed over his chest and he stared at Din in a mix of annoyance and impatience. “Finally. Did you have to do your hair?”

“It’s you we’re waiting on now.” Din replied dryly as he marched past the man to the door.

The sooner, the better.

Night had fallen for the third night of Mando being gone. It was too soon for you to be worried about him, but a ball of anxiety still sat in your gut. He had been away for longer periods of time before. The longest thus far being three weeks. You were mumbling a soft song under your breath as you rocked the child to sleep. When his eyes drifted close, you carefully set him in the hammock above Mando’s bunk and tucked a blanket around him. 

When you were certain that the kid was settled, you drifted toward the fresher to get ready for bed yourself. You wondered what it would take to convince Mando to pick up a bounty on a planet with an ocean soon. Going from the lava plains of Nevarro to the deserts of Tatooine and now this dusty Outer Rim world was bleak. You missed water. You had grown up near a river on your homeworld and spent a decent amount of time there. It wasn’t until you saw dry planet after dry planet that you truly began to appreciate natural bodies of water.

You shrugged out of your clothes, tossing them aside, and slid into a pair of shorts and one of Mando’s shirts. It had been borrowed early on in your travels and now it belonged more to you than it did him. The dark shirt was large enough to cover most of your shorts. You had been in the middle of washing your face when you heard the tell tale sound of the ramp. Quickly, you grabbed a towel and dried your face while rushing out of the fresher.

Mando was walking up the ramp just as you entered the cargo hold and you shot him a smile, “Hey, Mando.” He came to a sudden stop. You glanced around but saw no evidence of a quarry behind or near him. Had they gotten away? “What happened with the quarry?”

The Mandalorian crossed his arms and a nervous energy settled over your skin. The way he stood just seemed…off. And, the silence that surrounded him wasn’t the usual comfortable quiet you had grown used to. Mando’s helmet tilted some, as if his eyes were raking over your form, and you tugged on the bottom of your shirt anxiously. This was an outfit you wore to sleep every night on the Razor Crest, but right now was the first time you felt uncomfortable having it on around Mando.

“Are you⏤Are you injured?” You asked.

Mando strolled closer to you. Another bit of him that wasn’t right⏤ his gait. As you tried to gather your thoughts, he came to a stop right in front of you. Nearly chest to chest. A lump had formed in your throat, mouth dry, and you tried to swallow it down. Being around Mando always made your stomach feel as if it were filled with butterflies, made your heart race out of your chest, made an addicting warmth pool in your core. 

That was not how you felt right now.

Your hand reached out, as quickly as you could manage it, and slammed against the lock button of Mando’s bunk. The metal door slid down. It clicked into place, and the Mandalorian in front of you grabbed you by the throat and shoved you back until you slammed into the Razor Crest’s wall. You clawed at the familiar, gloved hand tightening around your throat as a low, unfamiliar chuckle rumbled through the modulator.

“What’s wrong, baby?” A voice that did not belong to your Mandalorian asked. “Aren’t you happy to see me? You were a minute ago.”

“Wh⏤Who⏤” You tried to spit out but you could barely breathe let alone form words.

“I’m your Mandalorian, baby.” The cruel laugh coming out from behind the t-shape visor you found comfort in felt so very wrong. He yanked you off the wall and released your throat. You managed to gasp a single breath of air before he backhanded you across the face hard enough to see stars. You fell to your knees and elbows roughly, a cry of pain leaving your lips, but you struggled to find a weapon of any kind. “That’s right. Crawl away, baby. Run. I’m a Mandalorian who likes to hunt, and now you’re my prey. How’s that sound?”

Your hand found a screwdriver, lying off to the side where you had been working on something under the floorboard earlier, just as he kicked you in the side to flip you over. The imposter knelt on the ground over you and you tried to stab him where only the flight suit sat. Unfortunately, he turned fast enough that the screwdriver struck beskar and did absolutely nothing. He laughed once more as you gave up the attack to try and slip away, but he grabbed your hands by the wrist and pinned you to the ground. The imposter sat on top of your thighs, kneeling over you, and you were forced to stare at your reflection in Mando’s armor.

It would be a bold faced lie for you to say you hadn’t daydreamed about having the beskar armor on top of you⏤ the weight of it pressing into you in every delicious way you could think of. But not like this. Not with a stranger inside of it. 

“Who knew the ship came with such a pretty little whore.” The imposter hummed. He shifted your arms so he could pin both your wrists with one hand. With his other, he grasped the bottom of the beskar helmet and pulled it off.  The man’s eyes were a piercing blue. Cold and cruel. Blond hair covered his scalp except on the side of his head where the scars of what looked like claw marks sat. He tossed the helmet aside and gave you a sickening grin. “Is that what you’re here for? You keep the Mandalorian’s bed warm? Let him fuck you when he’s done with a hunt?”

“Get the kriff off of me!” You struggled against his grip, against his touch, but nothing seemed to deter him from using his other hand to run over your body. You screamed until you were hoarse and when you cried out for Mando the man sitting on top of you just laughed. Faintly, you could hear frantic tapping behind Mando’s bunk door and fear struck you. Was the child awake? He wouldn’t be able to unlock the door from inside you didn’t think. 

It seemed the imposter was too immersed in you to hear the sound. 

“How about this,” The man leaned closer into your space, “I get a quick taste of you now, and then, once we’re up and in hyperspace, I’ll fuck you better than your Mando ever could, yeah?”

His lips crashed down on yours roughly. You tried to turn your face away, but the imposter bit down on your lower lip hard enough to draw blood. Between the metallic taste of your blood on your tongue and the smell of his rancid breath you were going to be sick. You gasped in pain and he took advantage by shoving his tongue into your mouth. He pressed his hips down into you, grinding against your stomach now, and the feel of his erection pressing into you made a horrified sob slip form you. It seemed to only spurn him on further. He let go of one of your hands to grasp at the waistband of your pants.

The sound of sprinting footsteps made the imposter sit up and you were barely able to register what was happening when a body dressed in red leather slammed into the beskar covered imposter⏤ both men falling away. Taking advantage of your freedom, you scrambled back as quickly as you could. The stranger dressed in red, wearing an oddly shaped helmet that covered his face, had a hand wrapped around the imposter’s throat while his other fist pounded away at the man’s face. Grunts of anger filled the air with every blow thrown and the imposter fought back only for a moment before his body went slack.

You scrambled away further but your back hit a metal crate sitting in the cargo hold. It shifted slightly and the sound made the stranger sit up and spin around. You gasped⏤panicked. Heart still racing. The imposter laid motionless. His face bruised, broken, and bloody beyond all recognition. You were breathing hard, trying to suck in more air as the air you did get brought no relief. The stranger jumped up, motions smooth and agile, and rushed to you. A cry of fear left you as you tried to pathetically jump up, but his hands wrapped around you. Soft, but firm. A comforting weight.

“It’s me. It’s me. You’re safe, mesh’la.” A familiar voice came out of the unfamiliar mask. The bright red and angry shapes still jarring to look at and you tried to struggle away. He pulled away to rip off his gloves. One hand came to rest on the side of your face, while the other lifted the red helmet just enough to reveal a jaw covered in dark scruff and lips. “Listen to me, mesh’la. You’re safe. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. It’s me. I’m here.”

You were still shaking, your entire body threatening to tremble into pieces, but your breaths were beginning to grow controlled. The warm hand on your face was grounding. It was familiar. You couldn't see the man’s eyes, but you could feel his soft gaze. Safe. You felt safe.

“M⏤Mando?” You gasped.

“Yes.” He nodded. “I’m here, mesh’la. You’re safe now.”

You broke into an uncontrollable sob, unable to bite it back, and Mando didn’t hesitate to pull you into his arms. The coarse, red armor you buried your face into felt unfamiliar, but the strong arms that wrapped around you felt right.

For the first time, Din felt uncomfortable in his helmet. It smelled of the spice that Trigg disgustingly chewed on. He couldn’t even bring himself to pull his armor on. It left him in a pair of plain sweats and shirt. After setting you in his bunk, the child curled into your side, he had stripped the mercenary out of his beskar and thrown the piece of shit into the carbonite freezer.

The job had gone so well then so bad. Din found the young Rodian child and killed his quarry. He’d only get half the bounty with the flesh trader dead, but something was better than nothing. The moment he returned the girl to her mother his heart had stopped when he realized his armor was missing. Din had sprinted to the Razor Crest, faster than he had ever run, and still he hadn’t come soon enough. 

Din stepped out of the fresher. The Razor Crest was in hyperspace and the cargo hold was dark. The only light spilling from the open door behind him. The sound of whimpering filled the otherwise silent space around him. Din hurried to the bunk to see you tossing and turning. He scooped the child up and set him in the hammock before crawling in to try and calm you.

He called out your name, bare hands on your shoulders, and when your eyes snapped open, thanks to his visor, he could see clearly the way panic and fear filled them. You screamed and began to swing at him. His helmet. It was his helmet. Without thinking, Din ripped his helmet off and threw it out of the bunk. Din pulled you into his arms again, pressing your face to his shoulder, and whispered reassurances.

“It’s me, Mesh’la. It’s me. I’m sorry. I was wearing the helmet. You’re safe, I promise.”

“Mando?” You breathed. He buried his hand in your hair and pulled you tighter into his chest. As if the two of you weren’t already tangled together in the small confines of his bunk. “I’m sorry I hit you⏤”

“It didn’t hurt. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I left you alone. I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner.” Din didn’t know which emotion waged in him the most⏤ guilt or anger. They were neck and neck. You took in a deep shaky breath and your hot breath on his neck made him sigh in relief. You were safe in his arms. Din rubbed your back and the question fell out before he could hold it back. “Did he… Mesh’la, did⏤”

“No.” You whispered. “You got here just in time.”

Din could feel tears soaking into his shirt. When the tears stopped, Din coaxed you out of the bunk and onto the cargo hold floor. He grabbed a first aid kit and rushed back so you weren’t left alone for too long. The only light still came from the open door of the fresher and he sat so his back was to it. The dim light illuminated your features and it was like a spotlight to the injuries you sported. He had told you that you could open your eyes. With the way you sat, it’d be too dim for you to see his face, but you said you didn’t want to risk it. 

He let his fingers trace the forming bruise surrounding your right eye. It trailed down to brush against the torn skin of your lower lip. Dank farrik. That kriffing fucker had bit you. He could see the outline of teeth. Din’s jaw clenched. He grabbed a bit of bacta and rubbed it gently into the forming bruise. He was going to do the same for your lower lip when you stopped him.

“Did I hurt you?” He blurted.

“No, no. Not that.” You mumbled. “Can I… Can I ask you for a favor?”

“Anything, mesh’la. Anything.”

“Can you kiss me?” You asked. Din was certain he had misheard you. It was why he sat in silence. He was trying to puzzle out what it was you had actually said. You spoke again, nervous, “You don’t have to. I⏤I…”

“You want me to…kiss you?”

You nodded. Eyes still closed lightly. “I know it’s dumb. It⏤ I just don’t want to feel his lips anymore. I don’t want the taste of him on me.”

“That’s not dumb, mesh’la.” 

Din settled one of his hands on the side of your face. His thumb caressed the soft skin of your cheek. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, Din began to lean in. He didn’t want to startle you. He wanted to give you every opportunity to pull away if you needed to. Din would be lying to himself, again, if he said he hadn’t imagined the way your lips would feel on him. But not like this. He hated that these were the circumstances, but there wasn’t a single thing Din wouldn’t do for you if you asked.

His nose brushed against yours. Din was close enough that he could feel your lips part. He waited one second more before pressing his lips softly against yours. One of your hands lifted to tangle in his hair and a simple gesture shouldn’t make him feel so hot under his skin. The kiss was slow and tender. Din was terrified to press too hard and bring you pain. The injury to your lower lip still so fresh. And after what you had just suffered through, he wanted you to have all the control. If you needed to use him to rid yourself of that nightmare, to erase the memory that bastard left on your lips, then he would. 

Your tongue brushed against his lower lip, tracing it, and he parted his lips for you giving you room to explore him. Maker, the taste of you was so sweet. It took every single ounce of Din’s self control to not deepen the moment even further. The kiss grew almost frantic. A hand in his hair and another at the back of his neck to pull him into you. You pulled back just enough to suck in a sharp breath before your lips was back on his and Din lost his battle for self control.

He wrapped his other arm around your waist and pulled you into his lap. Din was caught off guard when you pushed down to press yourself against his already hard cock, but it was a welcome surprise. He grabbed your hips, hands tightening into the soft skin there, and grinded into you. You moaned into his mouth and Din pulled away briefly so he could press open mouth kisses along your jaw then down your neck until he reached your shoulder. Thoughtlessly, he bit down, wanting to leave evidence of himself on you, and you let out a sharp gasp while grinding into him again. Din ran his tongue against the bite soothingly. 

Din’s hands slipped under your shirt and he desperately let his lips find yours once more. His tongue slipped past your lips, but then he tasted it. The sharp, metallic tang of blood. Din pulled back quickly realizing his plan to let you run the show had gone to shit. Both of you were breathless. 

“Are you okay, mesh’la??” He pulled one hand away from your hip to touch your face. His thumb brushed against your lower lip and in the dim light he could see the tint of red. 

“Thank you.” You breathed. You leaned forward, pressing a chaste kiss that missed and only landed on the corner of his lips. Then you leaned your head on his shoulder and just took slow breaths. Din let his knuckles drag up and down your spine. He could feel your entire body going limp as you melted into his hold. You mumbled, “Thank you, Mando.”

“Din.” He replied, but he didn’t know if you had already fallen asleep or not. “Call me Din.”

#the mandalorian #din djarin x you #din djarin #din djarin x reader #mando x reader #mando x you #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x you #female reader #reader insert #din djarin smut #dom!din djarin #trying real hard to be sub!din djarin #angst/comfort #fluff

[oliviajdjarin]

Din Djarin: Oxytocin

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!reader (she/her; afab)

Request: via @feministfanboi  “ Shut up shut up shut up this is SO HOT I need moreeeee I need the hunt riling him up so that she asks him to use her to let off team (steam) and then once they wind down a bit he takes his time making her come undone more the way he wants to treasure her (bonus points if the armor stays on the first round but he walks her through taking it off him afterwards). I'm so happy I found your writing and can't wait to read everything you've written for the hottest tin can.”

Excerpt: “The granite was cold against your legs, causing you to release a small gasp. Din sat you down quickly and held you by your waist, pressing his chest against your own. The metal was lukewarm through your shirt.

“Tell me you don’t want me to stop,” he whispered, using one hand to keep you steady and the other to pry open his weapons belt.

“I don’t want you to stop,” you replied, and his belt dropped to the floor. He began removing his pants next.“

Tell me you want this.”

“I want this.”

“Good,” he responded, a husk already in his voice. “Because I fucking need this.”

Warnings: smuuuuuut, dom din but actually dom reader, rough sex, unprotected sex, kind of a size kink, descriptions of scarring and concussions, swearing, very off canon, zero foreplay, probably unsanitary fingering, a soft ending.

Word Count: 4.2k

A/N: Thank you for your patience on this request @feministfanboi I hope you like it.

Pedro Masterlist 

If you would like to leave a like, comment, ask, or reblog, it would be much appreciated <3

You had known the Mandalorian for a decade, but Din Djarin for only a month.

And it had been the best month of your life. 

After years of fighting for jobs, clients, pucks, a seat at the table - any table - Carga had finally had what he called his “stroke of genius.”

“The two of you,” he said, the two of you seated uncomfortably close in a cantina booth. “Together.”

“Together?” you questioned.

“Together,” he repeated.

You and Din just sat and stared. Not saying a word.

“I’ll pay you triple,” he said finally.

Turns out, it was a stroke of fucking genius.

After ten years of constant competition between the two of you, you understood each other’s minds better than anyone else in the galaxy. Your weak spots. The way you fought. The way you planned. The way you hunted. The way you reacted when an enemy caught you by surprise, and the way you recovered. Because of this constant unconscious education between the two of you, you were perfectly complimentary. Working off each other without even needing to speak the words - catching on when one was winded and needed to be covered, understanding when one could forge ahead and the other could guard from behind, and most importantly, when the other was injured.

Injured enough that their body literally could not go on, in Din’s case.

You had slowly begun to learn all his small quirks as well - how he would kill for a homecooked meal after a long mission, how his lower back region always tended to bother him after a lot of running, and how, no matter what, the weapons closet always remained pristine. 

Pristine. 

You wished you could recreate the noise he let out when he found your weaponry beginning to spill over into his half of the cupboard.

After a month of slowly cooling your personal vendetta against the bounty hunter who always seemed to be one step ahead of you, it had become...comfortable. Weirdly, exquisitely comfortable. The type of comfortable that didn’t require a constant dialogue between the two of you. It was enough to just sit, watch the stars, ask each other a few questions you had always wanted to know, and then allow the silence to permeate once more. It was more than enough.

You wish Carga had this stroke of genius years ago. It felt good to be known, admired, then chipped at with questions in order to be known some more.

You had a feeling Din felt the same way.

With a new round of pucks in your pockets with targets in the general area of Coruscant, you were grateful to be known, even just a little bit. You needed it for that dung-hole of a planet.

The first puck was a knock-out - some big-wig’s daughter ran off with a guard of hers, proclaiming that their love was stronger than any alliance an arranged marriage would bring, demanding the daughter be set free from the “chains of bureaucracy,” etc.

Your eyes got a fierce rubbing after skimming that report.

Din asked to do this job alone - claiming it would be easy enough for one person, and that he was in desperate need of some fresh air. You appreciated his honesty, smiling at him politely while your brain deciphered the sentence using your growing encyclopedia of Din-Djarin-code.

I need some alone time.

You tended to agree. Some time alone would do you good, clear your head, revitalize you. Your temporary lodging was nice enough - a full kitchen, bath, and two bedrooms. You were almost looking forward to it.

You helped him clean his weaponry as well as you could, learned his plan for the capture inside and out, and sent him on his way with a blaster in one hand and a dozen credits in the other.

You placed an internal bet that it would take him no longer than a day at the most, a few hours at the least. You began to prepare a meal for him when he returned, full of peppers and seasoned, well-marinated chicken. 

Maker, if past you could see you now.

The meal was coming along well - the smell of cayenne, garlic, and sweet peppers filling the hut, carrying you away to a time before you knew the taste and texture of blood - when an object hit the side of the shelter. You could tell it was a blaster by its unique clang. You had no time to even flinch before the circular front door opened up like a spider web set aflame.

Din stood straight and tall, looking straight at you, before stomping into the bathroom and closing the door.

“Mando?” you questioned, walking slowly to the door. You pressed your ear against the wood, listening for a response.

Nothing.

You realized that, despite all that you had learned of him in the past month, you hadn’t learned how he raged. You could feel it on your skin, a cool, chilling, silent seething that imbued even through a solid door. You couldn’t label what endorphins the feeling was sending through your brain, nor the stirring in your lower stomach.

Maybe you just didn’t want to. 

“I’m going to open the door,” you stated, and waited for a rebuttal.

Nothing.

You sighed and pulled the door open slowly until it was only ajar, and found Mando seated against the bathtub, head in his hands. His shoulders were so tense and high they touched the area of his helmet that covered his ears. His breathing was heavy and quick, making it apparent that he was slowly simmering.

This position was eerily similar to the one he was in when he told you his name.

He had gotten hit in the head hard - very hard - and sat himself on the edge of a bathtub in the exact same way - head in his hands, shoulders tight, breathing rapid. He was so dizzy he couldn’t keep his head up, mumbling something about a rogue trandoshan that got him right under the chin. You prepared an ice pack for him, as well as pain meds and a warm water bottle, when he muttered something incomprehensible.

“What?” you asked, turning around to look at him.

He muttered the same thing again.

“Mando, I can’t understand you.”

“The trandoshan got away,” he said, and just as he began to slowly tip forward, he mumbled something else. “And my name is Din.”

Neither of you ever brought it up. You wondered if he even remembered it. 

Maybe today would be that day.

“What happened?” you asked him quietly, and he responded quickly.

“I had her,” he said, “I fucking had her.”

You walked into the bathroom and kneeled in front of him, looking up into his visor. A silent invitation. 

“He was with her. Her guard,” he continued. “And I saw the way he...the way he looked at her. He was ready to fight me. He was ready to kill himself if it meant she had even a few seconds head start. He didn’t even hesitate.”

A beat of silence passed between you.

“And I just...I couldn’t do it.”

Your eyes widened. “Are you saying you let them go?”

Another beat of silence passed before he nodded.

“Why?” you questioned.

“Because...” he started, and then looked up at you. You could feel his eyes burning into your own. “...because I couldn’t stop seeing you in her.”

He was still full of rage, sending chills down and across your spine, but a softness came over him in that moment. A softness that almost scared you, because you knew what he meant. You knew what he was trying to say.

I would do the same for you. 

Suddenly, the feeling in your lower stomach made sense. The endorphins flooding your brain made sense. The want to give him comfort made sense. The depth of your need to see him for what he was and understand the exact plans of his jobs and the inability to relax when he was gone made so much fucking sense. 

Despite the fear of how this mutual understanding would change your relationship, the anxiety of not knowing what to do next, and the shock of being wanted, you smiled. Despite it all, you smiled, and you stood.

His rage was still permeating, his body was still clenched, like he needed something to funnel his anger into. A vessel to work it onto, to bleed it out of himself.

You slid your thumb across his cheekbone, drunk on your ability to always know exactly what he needed, and whispered, “Din.”

A visible chill went down his own body when that word passed through your lips.

You leaned forward slightly, and said, “Use me.”

He looked at you then - really looked at you - before standing up completely. You didn’t know if you had ever stood this close to him, his broadness and masculinity washing over you as the size difference between the two of you was highlighted more than usual.

You liked it a lot more than you thought you would. 

At the same time, however, a bead of anxiety dripped into your brain. Questions on whether or not you overstepped, or read him wrong, or crossed a line joined the wonderous high in your overwhelmed brain.

Instead, Din replied, “I knew you heard me,” before lifting you by your waist, carrying you across the lodge, and setting you on the kitchen counter.

The granite was cold against your legs, causing you to release a small gasp. Din sat you down quickly and held you by your waist, pressing his chest against your own. The metal was lukewarm through your shirt.

“Tell me you don’t want me to stop,” he whispered, using one hand to keep you steady and the other to pry open his weapons belt. 

“I don’t want you to stop,” you replied, and his belt dropped to the floor. He began removing his pants next.

“Tell me you want this.” 

“I want this.”

“Good,” he responded, a husk already in his voice. “Because I fucking need this.”

He pulled his pants down completely, one piece of cloth now separating you from him. Sweat dripped down your back and heat pooled in between your thighs at the thought. You itched to touch his skin already, thinking back to the uncountable amount of times you had dreamed of his body. What it looked like, smelled like, felt like.

Maker, if past you could see you now.

Din seemed to be in a haze, not even hesitating to remove his underwear and let himself free, and not even noticing how your eyes widened at the sight of him.

Maker. 

He didn’t give you any time to process before tearing off your own shorts and underwear in one go, and immediately lining himself up. He held you close to him, his gloved hands working their way into your hair to keep you pressed against his chest. His hands on you were demanding, yet dancing across your body with a gentleness you had come to know only recently. It set your insides aflame. You reached your arms around his waist and tucked your face into his neck, desperation to be as close to him as physically possible crawling across your skin.

“Take a breath,” he whispered, before he entered you without a drop of mercy. 

He slid home so quickly you couldn’t even release a noise before he started pumping in and out ruthlessly. Practically splitting you in half, impailing you with heat, rapture, and a wholeness that had every speck of oxygen leaving your lungs. You could feel yourself dripping onto the hardwood floor, spit beginning to paint his armor with sinful beads, and your head spinning so fiercely you could only describe your feelings to him with whines.

Din, on the other hand, had seemingly unlocked a flapping tongue.

“Maker,” he grunted, zero qualms against noise or depth. “Y/N, I’m inside you, fucking shit.” 

His pace grew more relentless, the heat of pleasure beginning to drip down your legs and feet, toes curling at the sensation. He kept you pressed against his chest, sweat and metal filling your nose, giving you whiplash at how fast your life had flipped in the manner of minutes.

His fingers crept down to your clit, pressing and rubbing against it slowly, then pulling away, and repeating the process. You whined right where you imagined his ear might me, gripping his cape until your knuckles were milk white.

“Fucking wanted you in my ear like this since I first saw you,” he whispered to you, like he wanted no other soul to hear, only you. “Made me feel so fucking dirty, so fucking gross, but I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t stop. You were in that fuck grey jumpsuit you always wear…shit…and your boots. Couldn’t get you out of my head.”

You were near tears at this point, your body trembling and your mind warping at the thought of him wanting you like that - like this - for so long.

“Always a pain in my ass,” he groaned, his pace deepening as he found new crevices and waves inside you that had you scratching down his back. Your nails dug in so fiercely your ears rang with the sound, effectively leaving likely permanent markings on his back. 

You dug your nails in harder.

You arched your back, beginning to meet his pace with the roles of your hips.

“Fuuuck,” he groaned. “You like me talking about you, don’t you? How your legs look in those damn tight cargo pants, how your hips fill them perfectly, how your shirts hug you so fucking right I can’t help but picture it the moment my eyes close.”

Tears are leaking from your eyes now, his fingers torturing your clit and his cock hitting a place inside you you didn’t even know existed until him. You wished to kiss him as you came, kiss all around his face and neck, breathe in his panting breaths, exchange tastes.

Instead, you pressed small kisses across the armor atop his collarbone, panting and whining louder and louder.

“You’re...you’re so tight around me. Look so beautiful with me in you.”

Your head fell back, any blood to your brain was miniscule, and the edge of the cliff was inches within reach.

“Din,” you groaned, almost pathetically. “Din please.”

“I’ve got you, come on mesh’la,” he whispered, “Let go for me. Come undone for me.”

And you did. With one last snap of your hips against his, you came. You could not make any noise, only capable of dropping your head forward onto his chest, squeezing his cape so tightly you could have sworn you heard a tear, and basking in the wave of warmth that flooded your body from your brain to your feet. Your mind was muddled - coated in pleasure, only pleasure, and only him. Your muscles ached with it, twitching and clenching in such ecstasy that you wondered if you would ever speak again.

It was proven that you could when Din pulled out of you faster than you could blink. The emptiness of it made you whimper like a child.

“Din, what -”

“I’m not done,” he said huskily, the cool rage and high intensity obviously not worked out of him. He pulled your limp body into his arms and tossed you onto the couch, pinning you on your stomach with his hips. Your body felt ruined, exhausted and devoid of all energy and vigor. Din didn’t seem to mind.

He held onto your hips, angling them so that his still pulsing member was lined up just right, before pulling you close enough to him to whisper into your ear.

“That woman who taunted me for a decade, outsmarted me constantly, stole my fucking jobs,” he whispered, breathing so heavily through his modulator you could barely understand him. “She’s mine now, isn’t she?”

Your aching, mindbogglingly sensitive cunt pulsed for him - was helpless for him. You whined, pressing yourself back against him for some sort of friction. Din stopped you, halting your hips with the strength of his fingers alone. 

“Isn’t she?” he questioned once more.

You nodded profusely. “She is.”

“That’s what I thought,” he mumbled under his breath, and pierced you with his cock once again.

You could tell he was chasing his own high, practically clamoring for it as he railed himself into you like a man fucking for his own life, and with your heat already beginning to sore, you felt the rise of your own once again.

You wanted him to come - all over you, inside of you, every inch of skin you possessed. You wanted it now. 

So, you resorted to the only way you could connect with him up to this point - your words.

“You didn’t have this armor yet,” you whispered, reaching back to push his helmet into your neck as you began to meet his thrusts with your hips. Shirt so full of sweat it was translucent. “You had this helmet though.”

His pants became whimpers.

“Fucking loved looking at your thighs, every time our paths crossed,” you continued, a wicked smile etching itself onto your face as you spoke. “And when you got this shiny shit - maker - fucking lost my quarry to you that day. I remember that. You wanna know why?”

You could hear his gulp.

“Because I wanted you like this - behind me, ruining me, making me sweat, panting in my ear, coming inside of me, all with that fucking armor on.”

He was slowing down, but getting deeper and harder. Like his cock was even begging you to go on.

“Din,” you whispered, meeting his thrusts head on, “come inside me.”

And he did. He filled every inch you wanted him too, and held you close as he did. Rubbing designs across the skin of your stomach underneath your shirt. Massaging your scalp. Whispering verses of mando’a you couldn’t recognize. All while fucking you through his orgasm.

You smiled, eyes closed, letting the stars behind your eyes overtake your vision, and the feeling of him inside you overtake your every sense.

He slowed down as the last of his cum painted itself across your cunt and thighs, but he remained inside you as he collected his breath, and you collected your own. He squeezed your hips.

“You okay?” he questioned, sex dripping across his tone.

You nodded, swallowing thickly. “More than okay.”

He coughed out a chuckle - one that was full of disbelief, joy, and maybe a little fear - before he slowly pulled out of you. You dug your nails into his helmet at the feeling, unconsciously chasing him with your hips, but he delicately set you down on the couch completely. You braced yourself on the arm rest, your body nearly giving out on you from the transition of full to empty, whole to half, complete to ripped apart.

You wiped the sweat that had culminated on your lip before turning to look behind you, expecting Din to still be sitting, flexing those delicious thighs, getting used to the feeling of emptiness himself.

Instead, you found him already standing, heading into the kitchen, and beginning to slide his underwear back on.

“What are you doing?” you asked, sex present in your voice as well.

Din didn’t respond, only looked up at you as he began to button up his pants.

“The sun’s setting,” you stated, “you never wear your armor when you sleep.”

“I do when...when it’s necessary,” he refuted.

“When it’s necessary?” you questioned, turning your aching body around to face him completely, wincing. “What are you talking about?”

He remained looking at you, his breath slowing slowly from the rapid pace it was before. “I didn’t...I didn’t know if you would be...comfortable...seeing me like that. After...all that.”

You looked him up and down, a small smile coming to your face.

“I just didn’t know,” he repeated, “I wanted to respect that.” Your smile grew big enough to reach your eyes.

“Come here,” you whispered, gesturing to the empty space on the couch next to you he occupied only seconds ago, and he obeyed. He sat down gently, inhaling deeply when you unbuttoned everything he had rebuttoned. 

“You’re very sweet,” you said, smiling up at him, your lips tingling with the urge to kiss every inch of his visor, “but I always want to see you without all this.” You knocked twice on the beskar covering his chest, the echo it caused over the metal loud in your ears. “You act more like you.”

He said nothing, just kept breathing. 

You removed his pants before bringing your hands back up to his metallic covered chest, gaze connecting with his, and asking, “May I?” 

It felt stupid. Frivolous. Downright ridiculous that you were asking to take off his armor after he spent the better part of an hour cracking you open. Still, he had proven he respected you, he deserved the respect back.

After a beat, he nodded, and you began taking off each and every piece of his armor, and setting each piece down delicately on the floor. Halfway through, he began to chuckle, and you chuckled with him. 

“What?” you asked, a wide smile returning to your face.

“Nothing,” he defended, “I just thought I’d have to teach you how to do this.”

You connected your gaze with his once again. “In case you haven’t noticed yet, I know you pretty well.”

He hummed, contentedly. Your gazes, however, did not disconnect.

You couldn’t help yourself in that moment. Maybe it was the oxytocin still flooding your brain, or the high that comes with physical exercise, or the pleasure of just sitting there, talking with him, but the question that had always been on the tip of your tongue finally wiggled free.

“What color are they?” you asked. “Your eyes?”

You wished you could see a centimeter of his face, a millimeter, even a shadow, because you could not read him. He was frozen, yet positioned confidently, more vulnerable than you had ever had him, yet the most expressive part of his body remained covered in the strongest metal in the galaxy.

He played it safe with his reply. “Guess.”

You smiled, relieved as the rope of tension slithered off of you, “purple.”

“Close.”

“Green?”

“Closer.”

“Blue?”

“Not quite.”

“Perfect,” you said before you could stop yourself, “I’ll bet their perfect, whatever color they are.”

You looked away, removing the rest of his armor until he was only down to just his helmet, when he finally said, “Brown. They’re brown.”

You looked into where you hoped his eyes were and said, “That suits you.”

He hummed again.

He was down to his undershirt and underwear, practically naked in your eyes. You knew he slept without a shirt on. You had no proof of it - no quick glance into his room in the dead of night, a comment he made that you stored away for use later, nothing. You just knew he did. 

Your final thought before slipping your fingertips underneath the cloth material was I have everything to lose.

His skin was smoother than expected, sprinkled with a thick layer of hair just under his belly button, as well as a small scar deep enough for the skin to protrude just so. It was warm, homey, right.

You looked up at him as your fingers crawled higher and higher, slowly slipping the entirety of his shirt over his head. He never made a sound. Only raised his arms for you, silently egging you on. Like his body was saying you wouldn’t. 

I would, your fingers replied as you slipped his shirt completely off. 

He was tanner than you expected, sprayed with moles, tinted with scars, and muscles so defined and so him you swore he was airbrushed. Molded by a material of softness and perfection. 

Your fingers looked perfect splayed across his chest.

You realized, as your fingers explored his chest hair, that his body was slowly sinking in on itself. He was closing himself off without words. Not in a way that showed he was not enjoying himself, but in a way that showed he had enough defenselessness for one night.

You tended to agree.

You smiled, and pulled him into your arms, laying yourself flat on your back, and allowing him to completely shield your body with his own. Lay his full weight on top of you. 

“Y/N -”

“Sleep here,” you pleaded, “let’s sleep here.”

He allowed his body to slink and settle itself upon you, sliding his hands underneath your back, sweeping your legs from under you so he could wrap them up in his own.

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” he stated, and you laughed.

As the sun fully set, his skin became littered with stars instead of streaks of sun, and the weight of what had happened between the two of you finally settled upon both your body and your mind.

You had him in your arms. In your body. In your soul.

Finally.

With tears in your eyes, you asked yourself one final time.

Maker, if past you could see you now. 

Tag list: (if you would like to be added please let me know!)

@leahkenobi @cityofidek @burned-dorito @tiredbuthappy @punkiwiki @lovesbiggerthanpride @darth-voder @samanthacookieone @torchbearerkyle @stardust-galaxies @c4psicles-blog @joelsflannel l @mysun-n-stars @tateelii @kirsteng42 @leithatnight @arson-tm @l0calgoth @thesmutslut @alastorhazbin @grincheveryday @martinsmomo @letaliabane @cathenan @big-ol-boat @niiight-dreamerr @jezebel1945 @call-me-doll-face @yelyahcardella @letskeepthislo-ki @misspearly1 1 @petals-opento-the-moon @just-a-sewer-goblin @em---r @kirsteng42 @leithatnight @arson-tm @l0calgoth @thesmutslut @alastorhazbin @grincheveryday @reader8679 @torchbearerkyle @stardust-galaxies @c4psicles-blog @joelsflannel @mysun-n-stars @tateelii @darthvadersource -voder @kirsteng42 @leithatnight @arson-tm @cockscombkingdom

@lexloon @pauphs @enjoyyourlatte

@miss-goldenweek @darling-murdock @1deadpool26 @queen-nothing @burnt-dorito @untitledarea @julialoopeezz @aninnai @daphne-turner @jediknightjana 

#din djarin imagine #DINOvember #DIN #UGH DIN #dincember #din x reader #din djarin #din djarin fluff #din djarin smut #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #the mandolorian x reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandolorian fanart #the mandalorian smut #star wars fanfiction #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you

[angelltheninth]

NSFW Masterlist Part 5

DC COMICS

Getting Handsy on a Mission with DC Characters

Soft Dom!Dick Grayson Talks You Through an Orgasm

Grinding on Jason's Thigh

First Night with Bruce, Dick, Jason and Oliver

MCU

Wolverine NSFW Headcanons

Edging and Overstimulating Peter Quill

Pietro Maximoff with a Baby Fever

Size Kink with M'Baku

Eddie Brock and Venom NSFW Headcanons

MCU Characters Having a Wet Dream About You

Sex Pollen Blurb with Feral Logan

Cockwaming Adam Warlock

GENSHIN IMPACT

Zhongli Makes You Beg

Mean Doms Scaramouche and Heizou

Dottore Reluctantly Giving Oral

Venti, Kazuha, Al-Haitham and Zhongli Reacting to You Having a Womb Tattoo

Genshin Men + How They Like to Fuck You

Ayato Kamisato Dry Humping with You

Genshin Men + Overstimulation

Genshin Men Being Needy for You

Gorou + Rope Bunny Reader

Genshin Men + NSFW Collage AU

Sending Nudes to Genshin Men

Genshin Men + Sex Toys

Shower Sex with Kaeya, Scaramouche, Ayato, Tighnari, Xiao and Zhongli

Itto Being Rough with You

Al-Haitham and Kaveh with an S/O Who is Clingy During Sex

Pegging Genshin Men

BLUE LOCK

Bachira Locker Room Blurb

Mikage Reo Cockwarming + Praise

Clingy Sae Itoshi Coming Home to You

Bachira Loving You Calling His Name

Kunigami Rensuke + Deepthroating

Rough Morning Sex with Bachira

Marathon Sex with Bachira

Using the Safe Word with Bachira

Jinpachi Ego + Orgasm Control

Reo Keeping You Quiet During Sex

Kunigami Rensuke + Overstimulation

Chigiri Eating You Out

Chigiri Using a Remote Controlled Vibrator on You

Chigiri Taking His Time with You

Mirror Sex with Chigiri

Blue Lock Team + Wedding Night Sex

Aftercare with Reo

Sending Nudes to Team Blue Lock

Bachira Makes Your Orgasm for the First Time

Shower Sex with Sae

Bachira Discovering Your Sex Toys

Sae Takes Your Virginity

Bachira, Sae, Rin, Kunigami and Reo when You Grind on Their Abs

Bachira and Rin Seeing You in Lingerie

Kunigami Fucking You in the Locker Room After Losing a Game

First Time with Bachira, Kunigami and Reo

Busy Boyfriend Rin Has Sex with You in the Hallway

ARCANE

Vi Accidentally Hurts You During Sex

Rough Sex with Ekko

Sub!Amab!Sevika + Cock Riding

Office Sex with Arcane Men

CHAINSAW MAN

Denji Getting Head for the First Time

Chainsaw Man Quartet Making You Moan

TWISTED WONDERLAND

Leona Kingscholar + Breeding Kink

Twisted Wonderland Men When You Go Feral

Twisted Wonderland Men Giving Oral

Make-up Sex with Leona

Twisted Wonderland Men Taking Your First Time

Overblot!Jamil Viper Overstimulating You

Leona, Azul, Malleus + Cock Riding

Malleus Keeps Breeding You After Someone Knocks at the Door

Trey, Cater, Vil, Malleus with an S/O who's Shy During Sex

Wedding Night with Ruggie, Floyd and Lilia

Punishment and Denial with Vil

Sex on the Beach with Cater Diamond

CALL OF DUTY

Threesome Blurb with Simon and König

Simon Giving You Creampies

Angry Sex with Simon

Group Sex with Simon, John, Konig and Alejandro

Task Force 141 + Long Distance Sex

Task Force 141 with an S/O who Massages Their Breasts

AVATAR

Avatar Men Being Able to Smell You when You're Horny

NSFW Alphabet with Miles Quaritch

Avatar Men Stamina Headcanons

Hand and Finger Kink with Avatar Men

Edging and Overstimulating Tsu'tey

Avatar Men Being Careful while Having Sex with You

Tsu'Tey in a Rut

Worshiping Tsu'Tey

Neteyam, Lo'ak, Tsu'Tey, Aonung Being Turned On

NSFW Letters I, J, N, V, X with Lo'ak

Avatar Men Eating You Out

NSFW Letters I, N, C and X with Aonung

Tonowari with a Breeding Kink

STAR WARS

Overstimulating and Blindfolding Hunter

Luke Skywalker + Enemies who Fuck

Din Djarin + Post Mission Sex Blurb

The Bad Batch + Where They Like to Come

JUJUTSU KAISEN

Jujutsu Kaisen Characters Fucking Your Mouth

Sukuna Puts a Collar on You

Friends with Benefits with Jujutsu Kaisen Characters

Jujutsu Kaisen Characters + Kinks

#dc comics x reader #mcu x reader #genshin impact x reader #blue lock x reader #arcane x reader #chainsaw man x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #call of duty x reader #avatar x reader #star wars x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader

[rinixo]

aquae vivae

Din Djarin/Reader | 4.1k | Rated E | afab reader, no y/n, PIV sex, Mand’alor Din Djarin, breeding kink, dom/sub undertones, mention of pregnancy, subtle sex pollen, wedding night, oral sex

Your wedding night as the new bride of the Mand'alor.

AU of the 'trying to sleep' series (non-linear oneshots featuring you, a university scholar from Naboo who is helping The Mandalorian seek out the Jedi). Can be read alone.

a/n: This follows the same general story as 'thrones and people and cities' but can technically be read alone.I tagged 'sex pollen' but it just barely fits that trope. Mainly just added it so folks who aren't into it can skip/you're aware of the inherent dubious consent of it - but there is nothing but 100%, enthusiastic consent from all parties here.

read on ao3

You pause at the edge of the pool, eyeing the dark depths. The sound of dripping water echoes through the caverns, the only sound apart from your thrumming heart.

The murmur of your name snaps your attention to the caped man halfway down the steps into the pool. Din is half-turned towards you, armored head to toe as usual, the end of his long, furred cape floating in the still water. The cape around your shoulders matches his, and you rub the soft fur with your fingers nervously.

Din reaches out a gloved hand. Stepping forward, you lay your own in it and let him lead you down into the water. You’re surprised - despite the dark chill of the cavern, the water is strangely warm. You wonder if it is fed by geothermal springs, deep below the crust of the planet, or if it is something deeper.

There’s magic in the sacred pools, Din had murmured into your hair one late night. He told you about how bathing in the waters had redeemed him, how it was the great catalyst leading to his eventual accession to the role of Mand’alor. Now, as you stand before him, hands grasped in his, you wonder if the tingling on your skin is from the magnitude of what was about to occur or something more. Something without a name.

When Din had explained to you what a Mandalorian wedding was like, you had been quite happy at knowing it was a simple sharing of vows. He had then suggested that the two of you journey into the depths below the city center, to where the caverns with the living waters were located. There, just the two of you, you would bind yourself not only to the man you loved but also become Mandalorian yourself. It was a big moment, and one you had put a lot of careful thought into.

“Are you ready?” Din asks quietly. Squeezing his hands, you smile softly.

“Yes.”

Though you had memorized the vows before venturing into the caves, Din lead you through the words. You were grateful, not wanting to embarrass yourself by stumbling over the pronunciation.

“Mhi solus tome.”

We are one when together.

“Mhi solus dar’tome.”

We are one when apart.

“Mhi me'dinui an.

We share all.

“Mhi ba'juri verde.”

We will raise warriors.

—

Blinking at the late afternoon light, you followed Din up out of the caves, wet gown sticking around your legs. You were looking forward to changing out of your damp outfit and spending the rest of the evening with your new husband.

People buzzed around you the whole way back to your chambers, several of them wishing the two of you congratulations. You murmured shy thanks, the feeling of being the center of attention during what you felt was such an intimate time causing some of your innate timidness to come forward.

Din had explained to you that part of Mandalorian weddings included feasting and celebrating after the vows were shared. The families and clans of the couples were usually the extent of the guests, but with an apologetic smile, Din warned you that the feast to celebrate your union was likely to be much larger. He was quite beloved as a leader - as the first Mand’alor to resettle the planet since the Purge. The first royal wedding in decades, with the capital more populated than it had been in ages, was shaping up to be quite the affair.

The delegation from Naboo had also gotten involved. The ambassador, who had been so put off by your relationship at first, reveled in the chance to showcase Naboo. All week shipments of millaflowers and lanterns were arriving, along with cases of draping fabrics, mirrors, and jewel-toned crystal. He had even commissioned a gown for you to wear during the feast. Traditionally Naboo clothing was very structured, so you were thankful to see that the gown the ambassador had made for you was in the lake country style - lighter, made of lace and tulle, with a low, open back.

As you stepped into the gown, securing it at your shoulders and around your neck, you paused to look at yourself in the full-length mirror in the closet of your chambers. You had never worn something so lovely. Draped over a chair in the corner was your cape, now dry from its dip in the living waters. It was a symbol of your new status, and you mused at the fact that the gown complemented it quite well.

A knock at the closet door drew you out into the main part of your room. Din - your husband, you thought giddily - was standing there in his armor, sans helmet. You felt yourself flush at the way his eyes widened at your appearance, drinking you in.

“You look stunning,” he breathed, and you smiled at the compliment. You step forward and fuss with his armor - unnecessary, as it was spotless as usual - and looked up into his deep, kind eyes.

“You don’t look so bad yourself,” you remarked, leaning up to kiss the side of his mouth gently. You felt him smile and tilt his head to chase after your mouth, but you pulled away teasingly.

“Later,” you whispered. “We have a feast to attend, remember?”

Din grumbled, and you smiled placatingly. You’d be lying if you didn’t want to forget about the feast and spend the rest of the evening alone with your husband, but you knew if you didn’t show up for just a little while the ambassador would drag you there himself.

“I have something for you first,” Din pulled a small pouch out and turned it over. Something silver fell out into the palm of his gloved hand.

“A pendant?” You watched him hold it up, and saw that it was a delicate chain with a silver charm at the end in the stylized shape of some kind of creature, no bigger than one of your fingernails.

“I asked the armorer to make it,” he murmured. “It’s a Mudhorn, the symbol of my - our - clan.” He reached forward and clasped it around your neck, the weight of the pendant laying heavily on your breast. “It’s pure beskar, made from a piece of my armor.”

You looked down, touching it lightly. “It’s beautiful.”

Din merely smiled, leaning forward to place his forehead on yours, and you responded in a quiet moment of tranquility.

—

The feast was certainly one for the history books. The throne room made you gasp as you entered it, arm-in-arm with Din. The vaulted ceilings were lit with hundreds of beautifully crafted lanterns, mirrors, and crystals reflecting the shimmering flames around the massive space. The millaflowers and fabric draped every surface, the sweet scent of the blooms perfuming everything around you. You gave credit to those who had decorated - all of the decorations perfectly complimented the stark, structured Mandalorian architecture. It truly was a unification of your two cultures.

All around you guests came forward with well-wishes and gifts, which a never-ending retinue of assistants would take a place elsewhere. Grogu, who was also dressed up for the occasion, gurgled happily in his father’s arms at all of the attention. You, however, were starting to feel a bit overwhelmed.

Sensing your discomfort, Din lead you up to the raised dais in the front of the room, where the two of you sat side-by-side in lavish seats set in front of the throne. You reached for a goblet and downed a mouthful of sweet, flowery liquor. Din - who had put his helmet back on before the two of you joined the celebrations - tilted his head slightly in amusement.

“Feeling all right?” He asked, placing his hand on your thigh soothingly. You nodded, placing your drink down on the table and sighing deeply.

“Yes, I just needed some space,” you admitted. “It’s a lot to take in.”

“I know,” he answered. “Just a little while longer.”

Guests continued to stream up to the two of you, though now that you were seated and there was a decadent table between you and them you felt more at ease.

An elder Mandalorian approached your table with a crystal carafe filled with a deep red liquid. Setting it gently on the table, they intoned in heavy Mando’a.

“Wine,” Din translates, “Made in the ancient tradition from herbs and tinctures symbolizing prosperity and love. It’s a gift from those who remember the old ways and hope that our union brings forth a new age of growth for our people.”

“Thank you,” you express, taking the carafe. The elder bowed, before shuffling away to allow others to come forward.

The number of people coming up to you seemed to go on forever, and you poured yourself a generous glass of the special wine to help distract you and calm your nerves. It seemed to be working, the sweet yet tart liquid filling you with a familiar warmth and ease. You offered some to Din, who accepted a small taste by lifting his helmet enough for you to tip the goblet into his mouth.

After a while, you felt yourself relaxing into the plush furs of your chair, leaning against Din’s side. You played with Grogu’s ears as he tucked into the snacks laid out on the table, smiling fondly at the child and his voracious appetite.

“Does this mean I’m his mother now?” You wondered aloud and felt Din chuckle.

“I suppose,” he mused. “I’m his father, and you’re my wife, so that would make him our child.”

“Hmm,” you wiped a crumb from the side of the baby’s mouth, amused. “I always imagined my first child looking a little more like me.”

Din coughed, tensing slightly next to you. “Well,” he intoned lowly, leaning a little closer so that his words were only audible to you, “Perhaps the next one will.”

He placed his hand on your thigh again, the thin fabric shifting as he rubbed your skin. You felt warm from your head to your toes, with most of the heat pooling between your legs and where Din’s hand was placed. Throat suddenly dry, you lifted your drink and took another sip.

“C-can we go soon?” You lilted, wanting nothing more than to return to your rooms with Din alone.

“Soon,” Din promised, and you tensed your legs slightly to try to alleviate the ache growing between them. It was a familiar kind of ache, one that you had felt before, wine or no wine. However, there was something different about the way your body was reacting to the man next to you, and you weren’t sure how long you’d be able to take it before pouncing on him in front of everyone in attendance.

Thankfully it was not very long before Din gestured to a member of his staff and had them assist the two of you in making a smooth exit. He passed Grogu, now pleasantly drowsy, to one of his aides and then guided you back to your shared chambers.

When inside you kicked off your shoes, sighing at the relief of the cool floor under your feet. Din let go of your hand and locked the doors behind you, the sound of it engaging sending a throb of anticipation through your body.

You stepped towards your bed, which you had been sharing with Din for months before this. Something about its wide surface, covered in soft linen and furs, felt different this time. It was now your marriage bed.

The sound of Din removing his helmet, the seal disengaging, made you glance over to him. He placed it down gently and started with the rest of his armor. You stood there as if transfixed, watching as the man beneath the armor was slowly revealed. You always enjoyed being the audience to this ritual, and tonight was no exception. In fact, your body continued to warm, shivers of need going up your spine.

Din turns towards you, dressed down only to his most base inner layers. Realizing you were staring, your hands went to the clasp of your gown before he stops you with a low murmur.

“Allow me,” he husks, and you drop your hands to allow him to undress you himself. His fingers, surprisingly soft despite his rough past, dusted across your skin as the lace and tulle were unwound from your frame. At the same time, he began to back you up until the back of your legs hit the edge of the bed.

Pulling a pin from where your neck met your shoulder, your gown unraveled and fell softly around your legs. Din’s hands paused, his dark eyes drinking in the sight of you there, bare save for the beskar pendant around your neck.

“Beautiful,” he rasped, and you nearly moaned at the tone of his voice. It rolled over you, through you, like thick, rich honey and smoke. You could practically taste it. With a gentle push, Din laid you back onto the bed, standing over you with a hungry look in his eyes.

“I dreamed about this.” He kneeled on the bed, crawling up your body. “You, in my bed, wearing the symbol of my clan.” His head dipped to place a kiss to the center of your ribcage. “Bound to me.” You shivered again as his mouth trailed up to your collarbone, your neck, and across your jaw. Your hands, shaking with expectant thirst, snaked up his powerful arms to clutch at his shoulders.

You wanted to say so many things, all of the emotions that had built up catching on the tip of your tongue, but when you opened your mouth all that left you was a choked “please.”

Din’s mouth slotted over yours and you moaned deeply into it, body arching up to press against his firmer form. One of his hands came to your thigh, and you hitched it up around his waist, rolling your hips wantonly. Your hands ran under his linen shift, and you whined at the barrier between your skin and his.

With a groan, Din’s mouth released from yours just long enough for him to pull his shirt over his head and throw it to the side. He continued his exploration of your flesh, licking a slow stripe down your arched neck. You hissed as his teeth pulled at your skin, your nails scratching lightly across the skin of his upper back.

“Din,” you crooned, hand going to his head as he dipped down to tease the peak of one of your breasts with that wicked tongue. You cried out as he sucked roughly on your nipple, sensations of velvet and fire going straight to your swollen pussy. His mouth moved between the tips of your breasts, pinching and sucking and nipping at the flesh there until it was as swollen as your pussy felt.

He raised his head, eyes wild. He took in your body, writhing and panting, and thought you reminiscent of molten steel. You sought his gaze, pupils blown dark and wide with desire.

“What did I do to deserve you?” Din croaked, dipping his head down to nose the soft skin of your stomach. “Perfect creature…” he kissed his way down your lower abdomen. “I want to fill you up, sweet girl - do you want it too?”

You let out a wail as he licked a firm stripe up your leaking cunt. He lifted your legs to rest on his shoulders so that you were bent - your upper back laying against the bed, your hips angled up towards his mouth. You were wetter than you thought possible, your pussy swollen and flushed. Din sucked firmly on your clit, moaning at the way you keened and shook in his grasp.

Your hands thrashed, clutching desperately at the furs around you. Your thighs tensed, squeezing tightly against the sides of Din’s head as he brought you closer to the crest of your pleasure.

The feeling of his mouth leaving you made you groan in frustration as he dropped your lower body back to the bed. You opened your eyes, brow furrowed as you propped yourself up to stare at your smug husband.

He climbed over you again, shedding his pants. Your eyes were immediately drawn to the hard cock between his legs, flushed and bobbing, leaking clear droplets of pre-spend. You laid back, legs spreading so that he could settle between them firmly.

“Eager girl,” Din teased. “You that desperate to have me inside of you?”

“Din,” you groused, “If you don’t fuck me soon I think I’m going to die.”

He laughed, husked low in his chest as he pressed himself firmly to your swollen entrance. You laid your head back onto the bed, sighing in relief as he began to stretch your walls. It felt like he was splitting you right down the middle in the best way, and you arched your back to let him sink in further.

“Oh, fuck,” he rasped, leaning forward to rest his forehead against yours. “You’re a jewel,” he breathed roughly, hips snapping forward until you wailed. “Taking my cock so well.”

You shifted your hips under him, angling yourself to take him as far in as your body would allow. He chuckled at your frustrated expression, arms braced on either side of your head. He bent forward to capture your lips in a messy kiss.

“My little wife,” he breathed over your lips. “Wants my cock so badly.”

“’S'good,” you slurred. “Big. Fuck me, please.” He answered you with a rock of his hips, hitting that spot inside of you that made you keen again.

“Tell me what you want, baby” he crooned against your mouth, hips slapping mercilessly against your pelvis. “Come on.”

“C-come in me,” you begged. Flashes of images - a little curly-haired baby at your breast, curled up against Din’s chest as he whispered to it lovingly, lowly - made your pussy clench around him. Your body ached for it in a way you had never experienced. You wanted him to get you pregnant, wanted to carry his child inside of you.

“Fucking - anything you want, sweet girl,” Din gasped. “Want me to fill you up “ he rides you hard, desperate for the way you cry with every punch at your guts. “You’re so good, baby, fuck-“

He continues to ramble, lost in how you’re tensing around him. “You’re gonna look so fucking beautiful, full of my child. You don’t know how badly I want it, so badly - I can practically see it -“

Emotion wells up in your chest, binding with the pleasure thrumming through you. You’re nearly there - fire rising from your toes and flooding down from your chest. Din dips his head to kiss your neck, and you start to tip over the edge. Your orgasm starts deep inside of your cunt, from where his swollen head is grinding up into your walls, and sparks down to where his pelvis rubs against your clit. Your vision goes white and you hear Din cry out as your desperate pussy wrenches from him his own release.

“T-take it,” he growls, hips snapping against yours, the head of his cock tight against the seal of your womb. You whine at the pressure of it, the feeling almost too good to bear. You shift your hips, pulling away before his head snaps up from your neck.

“No no no- take it,“ he groans, hand tight on your hip. You writhe under him, tears of pleasure pricking the corner of your eyes. His gaze on you burns, and you struggle to see him clearly through the fog of your ecstasy.

His pace remains steady, desperation clear in the way he rams his cock up into your cunt. “Your duty,” he gasps, leaning forward so that his chest nearly crushes you. “Do your duty and take my seed, bear my children.”

He holds you there as he pulses out the last of his release, breath leaving him in short pants through his nose. His teeth are gritted, brow furrowed, gaze locked to your eyes so that you can’t look away.

“D-Din,” you shudder, and his eyes soften. His grip on your hips loosens minutely, and he lets out a shaky breath.

“You did so well,” he praises you. “You’re so fucking good.”

You blink wetly, mind still focused on his cock and how it’s anchored inside of you, pinning you to the bed, plugging you securely. Din tilts his head at your determined expression, and when you roll your hips experimentally he sucks in air sharply.

“Feels good,” you mumble, drunk on the pleasure and the feeling of him still hard inside of you. Stars, how was he still so fucking hard? And why was your body telling you to make him come inside of you again?

Think about that later, you decide, hooking your legs around his waist and pushing him further up into you. He chokes again, head drooping to look at where the clutch of you holds him tightly inside.

“Fuck,” he moans. “You’re never going to know sleep without the feel of me leaking out of you.” He rolls his hips back before slamming back into you, your mouth opening in a satisfied groan. “Not until you’re fucked full of my child, sweet girl.”

“Yeah,” you agree, nodding feverishly. It’s all you can manage to say, everything in you focused on where his body enters yours, in and out, inandout-

The two of you spend the entire night and most of the early morning like that, tangled together, until your bodies are near to collapse from exhaustion. It’s Din who taps out first, placating your desire with soft kisses to your temple and strokes to your still-swollen cunt. It isn’t long before your eyes start to droop, sleep just on the edge of your consciousness as he teases you to one last, lazy orgasm. You all but pass out, head resting on his chest to the feeling of him stroking your hair lovingly.

You wake hours later, alone in bed. Your body aches sweetly, and as you start you rise you roll your neck and groan.

“Good morning,” a raspy voice greets you, and you turn to look at where Din leans up against a dresser. He sips from a steaming mug, brow raising in humor at your bedraggled appearance.

“G’morning,” you croak, throat dry. Din sets his mug down, trading it for a glass. He comes over to the bed, sitting next to you, and hands it to you. You take it, gulping down the cool water gratefully.

“What time is it?” You asked, licking your lips. When he tells you - mid-afternoon - you scoff. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

Din’s brow raises again, and he leans back against the headboard. “Thought you needed the rest,” he said, amusement in his tone. “Since you kept me up all night.”

You pouted, indignant and embarrassed. “Don’t pretend you didn’t like it,” you mumble, and he laughs.

“Quite the opposite,” he husks. “And as much as I’d like to take responsibility for your behavior, I had a feeling it was due to something else.” You tilted your head in confusion, sipping more of the water.

“The wine,” he explained, and you thought back to the previous night - somewhat difficult a task - and remembered the crystal carafe.

“Turns out they mean “new age of growth” more literally than I understood,” Din continues. “That wine is made from herbs that act as an aphrodisiac and increase fertility. You drank a lot more of it than I did, so it hit you harder than it did me.”

You choke on your water, some of it dribbling down your chin. Wiping it away, you set your glass to your side and cover your eyes, groaning. Din pulls you closer and you bury your face in his chest, burning with embarrassment at the situation - and the implication.

“Silly girl,” he croons, hand creeping down your side. You look up at him, another shy pout on your lips, and he tips your chin up to kiss you slowly, deeply. You sigh into it, shifting your leg to straddle his lap and feel him smile against your mouth. You shift down to where his cock sits, firm and proud, and grind your bareness against him until he groans.

“More? So soon?” He whispers darkly, and you nip at him cheekily. Pulling back, you look your husband in the eye, a mischievous glimmer in your gaze.

“Might as well make sure it works, right?” You tease lowly, and shriek in loving laughter as he throws you down and begins to devour you again.

#din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin smut #the mandalorian smut #mando x reader #din x reader

[saradika]

— only if for a night

[series masterlist]

din djarin x f!reader

Rated E - 6.5k

Tags: spoilers for 03.01, neighbor!din, established past encounter, flirting / mutual yearning, hot springs makeout, soft dom!din, outercourse, fingering, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasms, dirty talk, PiV

A/N: based on that little line from s03.01 about the hot springs. Many liberties taken with the creed.

When it appears the droid repair will take longer than expected, Din finds himself taking Karga up on the offer for the parcel of land.

And when you go to give your new neighbor a warm welcome - you never imagine that it would be the very man you haven’t been to stop thinking about.

He’d never been all that great at saying no.

It was easy when he was on the job - dealing with strangers. Questions rarely came when the saw him as just a symbol. Something to be feared.

A Mandalorian.

When it was a friend… well, that was a different story. Somehow, Karga had gotten under his skin. Twisting words around until he found himself agreeing to that parcel of land, out by the flats.

His stay was only temporary. That, he made sure of to mention. More than once, each time more firmly.

“Ah, but you always come back.” Karga had smiled, while they overlooked the city, “I know you have your business to attend to.”

Glancing down at Grogu, still spinning in the chair, “But wouldn’t it be nice to have a home to return to? To know you have a place, here?”

“I’ll think about it.” He had hedged, hands braced on his hips.

Somewhere along their walk later - their path had changed. Through the center of town, past the now deconstructed monument.

Before he knew it, he was in the middle of the tidy hut - Grogu wandering through the back door and into the sizable yard, as he found himself signing the deed.

“We’ll worry about the details later.” Karga had winked - and then he was gone.

Leaving Din alone, in his new space. Half-exasperated as he checks through the rooms.

A living space that flows into a small kitchen. Smoothed stone walls, a hallway that leads to a bathroom, with a full-sized sonic. The sharp right curve as the building continues back - a master bedroom taking up the last third of the L-shaped unit.

It might be nice to have a private place to sleep for a few days, while he waited for IG-11 to be repaired. His legs and back aching from sleeping in the starfighter.

And he’s never loved inns. Never trusted them completely - not even on Nevarro.

A small head peeks around the doorway, as he stands in the middle of the bedroom. The cotton curtains fluttering with the breeze, a view of the hot springs and the thick line of trees visible from the open window.

“What do you think, kid?” He finds himself asking.

Grogu coos happily, and his lips curve underneath his helmet.

“Yeah.” He hums. “I think so, too.”

———

“Finally sold that place, next to yours.”

You frown, glancing up from your datapad. Feet kicked up on the desk in your office, catching up on comms.

The news is unexpected, you hadn’t known anyone was looking at the property. Karga hadn’t pressed for you to put out any advertisements in the past couple weeks. Acted like he’s been saving it - but for what, you didn’t know.

“Would say I’m glad, but I was getting used to the private hot springs access.” You smile, removing your feet, pushing yourself up to greet him, “You need me to get the paperwork together?”

“No need, I handled it.”

That makes your eyebrow raise. Karga had certainly done a lot for Nevarro. The green trees outside - the expansion of the city - was more than enough proof.

But you had never seen him handle any of the minute details. Never had been his style.

No, that was your job.

“I’d like you to stop by though.” He says, fingers stroking the white bristles of his beard, “Make sure he’s doing alright. Explain about the expansions, I didn’t get a chance to cover that part.”

“Sure thing.” You nod, already collecting your things, “You know I would anyways, since he’s my neighbor and all.”

But Karga’s focus on this new buyer nudges at your attention - a beat passing, before you add, “Is it someone high profile? Should I know them?”

His answering look is knowing. And cryptic, as only he can be, “Something like that.”

Leaving your office with an amused smile - and you more curious than ever.

———

Your fist raps twice on the closed blast door. A hand smoothing down the front of your tunic, wrinkled with your brisk walk over from the office. The basket tucked under your arm, filled to the brim with goodies hand-picked from "the stash".

A crate stored in one of Karga's many rooms, filled with gifts from shops in town, potential business partners, visiting travellers.

Anything expensive he accepted for himself - the rest you collect, with the dual purpose of handling it for him, and finding a use for the item.

Creating welcome kits for all those who are new to the city, things to make their houses feel more like homes. Blankets to fend off the evening chill. Vouchers for a warm meal at the local cantina. Dried meats and fruits - trinkets for the children if there are any.

Fingers crossed that your new neighbor is someone nice. Not like that Weequay you had roomed next to when you had lived downtown - keeping you up late with their band practice. Chords loudly strum on their hallisket, somehow always off-key. Overly rude, whenever you had gently tried to bring it up.

Back then, you woke with the dawn, due down at the new school just after daybreak. Rough did not even begin to cover it.

Moving out here, the change in your duties, had been nice. Certainly a walk every morning, but the privacy was well appreciated.

Quiet nights after spending the day keeping up with the whirlwind that was Greef Karga. Soaking away the stress in the small clusters of hot springs that make their way along the flats.

No one answers, so you inch around the side of the building to check the back. One of the many bonuses about being this far out - the large yards and extra space. Past the narrow landing pad - the shining chrome ship that rests on it.

Your nose wrinkles at the sleek lines, the overall ostentation.

Stars, if it's another 'Karga'...

Pushing the thought aside as you call out, ahead, "Hello! Anyone home?"

"Back here." A voice replies, sounding muffled.

You’re rounding the corner of the hut, when you freeze. Only the vice-like grip on the handle keeping the basket from tumbling across the stone patio.

Because you do know him.

Intimately.

Though it’s been a while. Over a year, maybe two?

But there was no mistaking the shine of his silver armor. The little friend that’s still by his side.

“Oh.” You greet him, intelligently.

His helmet turns at your voice, his own form going still for a long moment. The child lets out a coo, his small head turning as he leans over the edge of the water, splashing the surface.

“Hi. Karga sent me over. I mean, I would have come anyways.” You clear your throat as you find your voice - hiking a thumb over your shoulder, “Seeing as we’re neighbors, and all.”

“Neighbors.” He repeats, his voice a low monotone.

It’s so strange to hear it again.

You’d spent ages thinking about it. About that night. It wasn’t supposed to be anything more than blowing off steam.

Back then, you had still worked at the school. Filling in as the teaching droid became accustomed to the class - still developing the emotional intelligence part of its AI.

You had been an aide, making sure things ran smoothly. And it had, until those few days that the Child had been in attendance.

It still makes you smile to remember the bits of blue cookie smeared on his face.

That’s when you had met the Mandalorian, picking up his child. And then running into him again, later at the cantina.

Ending up in his ship, even later after that. Staying longer than you meant to, until the indigo sky was streaked with pink and grey.

You still think about the cold bite of his armor against your bare skin. The low rasp of his voice, lips forming around rough words of praise that had burrowed into your brain.

Just one night, but it had stayed in your memory for the hundreds that came after.

“Uh, yes.” You snap back to reality, as you jiggle the basket. Walking over, because it was too late to flee - setting it down on the low stone table.

Your face heats - you're not sure how to word this. Unsure if it was more awkward to get out with it, or pretend like this was the first time you’ve met.

After a moment, you make your decision. Better to just be honest.

Your hand extends, as you give him your name. A small cringe of a smile, as you hedge, "I don't know if you remember-"

His answer cuts you off, as his hand takes yours, "I do."

Oh.

The vocoder makes it impossible to tell the exact tone of his response. If it was a good memory, or if he was disappointed in this strange reunion.

You’re saved from the awkwardness of not knowing, when the child toddles over. A wide grin spreads over your face, plucking a treat out of the basket.

“Just look at you!” Sinking to your knees - you glance up, before handing the piece of candy over, “Is this okay?”

The Mandalorian’s head dips in a nod, a heat in your cheeks as you turn back. Placing it into the little outstretched hands, as you marvel.

“You’ve really grown!”

His ears wiggle, the peek of his teeth as he smiles.

Not bigger, but certainly more confident. A sweetness shining, more certain of the steps he takes. A tightness in your chest, as he shows it to Mando - clutched tight in his fist.

“That’s right.” He replies patiently, “Tell her ‘thank you’, Grogu.”

Grogu makes a sound that could pass as a thanks, making his way to the rock border of the small garden.

Leaving you looking up at the Mandalorian. The angle doing something to you - all that shining armor. You on your knees.

His head, still tilting down. Cocked, your way.

But then, you’re remembering why you’re there. Pushing yourself to your feet, burning with embarrassment.

“Uh, right. The details.” You rush, turning away. Back towards the border of the property, your finger pointing, “The hot springs runs through your back yard and mine. Some huts are lucky enough to have their own.”

A shrug, as you turn back, “But most have to share. It’s great this time of year, it gets chilly at night. He’ll love it.”

Your head tilts towards Grogu, still munching away. Mando nods, slowly walking over to stand beside you, looking out at the natural springs. The thick trees above, making a sort of barrier to the huts behind it.

“Oh, and your house.”

The last detail.

“They’re built so you can add on. It’s a good size for one right now. But if you need more space there’s room on the sides, or add another floor.” You gesture to the spots, so he can picture the expansion.

“Should be pretty easy. You would just tell me or Karga, and there’s a couple droids that have it down to a science.”

His head tilting to look where you point. A beat, before he asks, “Have you added onto yours?”

Your eyes meet his visor, surprised.

Lips pressing together as you think about it, your head shaking. Smiling sheepishly.

“No. Like I said… it’s uh, good for one.”

He hums at that, but doesn’t ask anything else. Nor does he look away, his hands resting on his hips.

A dozen questions on the tip of your tongue. Holding them back because you’re not sure how to ask them. Not wanting the answer to be different from what you’re hoping.

So instead, you just smile.

“The last step is usually a tour, but I’m sure we can skip that part. Wouldn’t want to take up any more of your time.”

There’s a beat, while he seems to think about it. A hesitance, before he nods.

“Right. Thank you, we should be fine.”

Almost a reluctance.

But you’re certain you’re imagining it.

———

It’s lucky that he didn’t take you up on the tour. You barely make the walk back to your house before your comm is beeping - an emergency that has you running back into town.

A no-show from a contractor, for a job that needed to be done today. The afternoon is spent with your sleeves rolled up, helping out yourself, the work bleeding into the evening.

The morning becoming a blur, as you drag yourself home. Just thinking about sinking into the springs for a couple minutes, resting your aching feet.

Grabbing a ration bar as you change into one of your suits, your robe and a towel thrown over your shoulder. Leaving the door open, letting the cool night air into your house as you head towards the back.

Your things dumped on a low wooden bench, as you stretch - arms high above you head. A low, throaty groan as you step into the hot water, finding your favorite nook to rest in.

It’s only then, in the water with the skies above, that you think about the Mandalorian. A thrill at seeing him again, even if it didn’t go anywhere.

With his line of work, you can’t pretend you weren’t worried. Hadn’t been thinking about him, hoping he and his son were alright.

Hoping for other things, as well.

When your eyes finally open - you freeze.

The object of your affections sitting a few yards away from you, supplies spread out on the stone table. In the middle of cleaning a long rifle, a piece of cloth in his hands.

Seemingly frozen as well, his helmet tipped your way. The moment stretching out, until you’re letting out a little “oh”, dipping down into the water.

“Sorry,” You give him a little wave - unsure what else to do, “Didn’t see you out here.”

Moving closer to the edge, your hands bracing on the raised lip, “I can go. Long day, just needed a minute.”

“No.” He shifts then, a gloved hand going flat, “Please, stay.”

You’re pleased. To continue soaking, and to continue taking him in. Your chin resting on the curl of your fingers, watching him work.

It’s quiet - the rustle of the leaves above. A chirp of the crickets, the summer days starting to tip into autumn.

“What happened today?” Mando asks you, your head lifting.

Frowning - the question loaded. Did he mean earlier? Like, when you first rounded the corner into his backyard?

He takes pity on you, “You said today was long.”

“Mmm.” You sigh, now understanding. Biting back a smile, pleased that he’s asking about you, “I guess it wasn’t too bad. Just putting out a few fires for Karga.”

He hums, like he understands your implication.

But then, you’re remembering that he’s friends with him. Your nose crinkles, “Not that I am complaining. He’s done a lot for this city, we’re all grateful.”

“You can be honest with me.” His tone sounds amused, and you relax.

The tools set down, as he moves closer. The slow creak of his armor, the overhead lights glinting as he lower himself to one of the chairs that rest close to the edge.

Close enough that he could step into the water, the steam that rises up in the chilly evening air. His helmet tipping down to where you sit.

Your eyebrow lifts, “You thinking about coming in? I can close my eyes for you.”

Remembering what he said, before. The reason why he stayed wrapped in his armor, his helmet always firmly fixed in place.

His head tilts, considering. A long moment - as you hope - before he answers.

“Not tonight.”

The disappointment pools in your belly - but you move on quickly as he asks, “How long have you been working for him? I didn’t see you at the school.”

He had looked. That moment when he walked through town - later, when they ran into the pirates. A worry, fueling him to act when they had threatened to take that drink in the renovated building, where the old saloon used to dwell.

The disappointment melts into fondness, “A while. Close to a year? It’s fun, he can just be a lot, you know?”

He makes a sound of agreement, knowing full well.

“Very convincing and influential. I find myself doing all kinds of stuff just because he asks,” You laugh, your chin cupped in your hand, “He’s got his eyes on some big prizes. High Magistrate. Mining and trade routes.”

Your gaze drifts, going far away, “It’s great for the city. The expansion, all the money coming in. He loves it. The job, the finery of it all. But, personally… I’m not sure it’s what I want.”

The words trail off, as you get lost.

“What do you want?” His voice brings you back.

You blink, looking up at him, “I just want a place to call my own. Something just for me.”

Head tilting towards you little hut, as you start to feel a little self-conscious, “I’m sure that sounds stupid.”

His helmet stays focused on you, as he answers.

“No. I think I understand.”

———

When it came to this hut, he had floundered. Finding himself agreeing, even though he knew he’d be gone again in days. Now, there’s a question that lingers. Heavy on his mind and heart as the hours bleed into the next.

But this time, he knows what he wants. When the question comes, he’ll have the answer.

The next evening, he’s waiting for you.

Surprising you, seeing him in just the flightsuit, as you exit your hut. Pausing mid-step when you see how he lingers. Self-conscious now, in his own way.

Your question comes, again.

“You coming in?”

This time, he nods. Fingers lingering at the zipper on his chest - the anticipation curling in your stomach as you watch.

His hands going still. Wanting this, but the sting of his betrayal to the creed is still a fresh, aching wound. Letting someone see his face. Even though it was the only way.

You head inclines towards a spot in the back of the springs. Where the trees are thick, blocking out the twinkling stars above.

“I can wait there.” You tell him, “I won’t look.”

It’s the last assurance he needs.

He nods.

Making you way to the back, sinking down into the springs. Nervous and excited and thrilled, as you find the spot - where he joins you soon after.

Helmet still on, you can hear the buzz of his groan as the hot water hits his skin. Easing the aches in his back, from the hours of flying.

It’s a little narrow for two, but you fit together - facing each other, under the trees. Where the night and the shadow of the branches weave together - until you can only see the soft, loose outline of his shape.

You can’t believe he got in. Fingers itching to reach out and touch - but you hold back. Still not knowing how he feels, if he wants the same thing as you.

Instead, you fill the silence with soft questions. About him this time - where he’s been, what’s happened since you last saw him.

Some of the tension easing.

And slowly, he tells you. How they became separated. How he had gotten him back, only for the reunion to be cut short. Never saying how the absence effected him - but after seeing their bond today, you knew it had to be hard.

Finally, about their reunion.

With each story, each confession - you find yourselves moving closer. Inching along the natural stone seating until the feet of space dwindle down to mere inches between you.

You wonder if he can hear your heart. The way it thuds in your chest, as his knee brushes yours.

It’s quiet now, other than the ripple of water as your leg stretches out - foot resting on the outcropping of rock he sits on.

"I'm not staying long. Just a few days." The rasp of his voice breaks the silence. His leg brushes yours again.

A soft warning. Letting you know that this would be like last time.

But it’s not the same. Not really.

Your lips press together - the peek of your tongue as you wet them, "You'll be back. You just bought a house here."

"Yes.” He acknowledges, “But I don't know when-“

“I don’t mind”. Your own confession comes easily, in the dark. Leg shifting until your foot taps against his thigh, against bare skin, "Stop overthinking things. When was the last time you had some fun?"

There’s a low breath at your question, a buzz through his vocoder.

"Not since I last saw you."

You know he doesn't mean yesterday. The tickle in your stomach turns into full-on butterflies as your fingers drift - bridging the small gap between you. Finding his on the stone.

Fingertips dragging across knuckles, the back of his hand. Against smooth, bare skin. Before he moves - his hand curling around your wrist, tugging you forward.

A startled yelp as he hauls you into his lap, your thighs bracketing his - shins pressing into the bench beneath you.

Hands steadying themselves on his broad shoulders. His own slowly sliding over your thighs, up to your hips. Fingers kneading soft flesh as you shift, fitting yourself snug against him.

Feeling him.

The clothed, thick curve that’s pressing against your core. A soft sound in your throat as you rock your hips unconsciously against his cock, finally putting pressure on the spot that has been aching for him.

“Maybe you can remind me how.” He rasps, his own hips tilting up, grinding.

Your laugh is strangled as you meet him. Relief in many more ways than one as you brace your hands on his shoulders. Moving more purposely this time as you roll your hips.

Finding the spot that makes you shudder, nails sinking into his skin. His own hands grasping at you, the sharp hiss of breath through his helmet.

It’s too dark to see more than outlines, but you still find his visor. Trying to imagine where his eyes would be, before yours drop down - admiring the rare glimpse of his neck.

His shoulders, broad and strong. Fingers touching features you can’t make out - the coarse, peppered-grey curls on his chest. Decades of scars, each with a story. His form slightly softened by age, but still moving you effortlessly.

The grip on your hips loosen, a hand drifting up. Leaving droplets of water on your skin as his fingers skim your waist, then higher.

A knuckle brushing your breast, over the top of your suit. Teasing at the edge.

“Gods, yes.” You sigh, leaning back to give him room.

To watch him tug the cloth to the side, then down. Baring a breast, and then the other. Fingers dipping down to the water, dragging a wet thumb over the pebbled peak.

You’re clenching, your pace picking up. Leaning into his touch, grinding your pussy against him.

That low voice of his, encouraging you, “Keep riding me, mesh’la. Fuck, just like that.”

It makes you shudder. Pleasure coils in your head, the build-up making your thoughts hazy. So close to what you need, but not quite enough.

A frustrated whine slides through your teeth, your eyes lifting to his. A hand letting go to dip down, between your thighs - but he catches it with his own.

Bringing it back up to his shoulder, before his dips below the waistband. To where you’re wet, slick with arousal. Whimpering when his fingers circle your clit, making you mindless. Prone to babble, the words hushed in the quiet night.

“Stars, I missed you. Feel just as good as I remember.”

A beat, where his fingers linger. Just for a second, before he’s shifting beneath you - increasing the sweet pressure.

“You thought about this?”

Your eyelids flutter closed, your chest crushed against his. Feeling the slick slide of his fingers, exactly the touch you needed.

“Mhm. All the time.” The confession come easy, drunk as you are on pleasure, “How hard you made me come, how fucking good you are with your fingers.”

The praise sinks into his skin, smoothing over the thin cracks of insecurity. He had thought of you, too. Often.

Fucking his fist to the memory, so like the way your hand worked between your own thighs at night.

Just a night but it had felt like so much more. A connection.

He has you close. It almost feels like time is ticking down, each press of his fingers bringing you towards the end. An arm wraps around you, pinning you against him as you gasp.

More praise falling, just for him.

“Oh, you’re going to make me come. Just like that, please-”

His breath harsh as he concentrates, as your face buried into his neck. Muffling your cry as you’re brought over that edge, going stiff in his arms.

Gasping against his skin, as he coos in your ear. The words muted through the haze, buzzing against your skin. Finding bliss, in this dark corner of the springs.

A long moment of silence, as you find your limbs again.

“Did you mean what you said?” He asks, as your cheek presses against his helmet.

Cool against your hot skin, a soft sigh as you relax against him. Embarrassed, now your head is a little more clear, “What, that I fantasized about you?”

Mando makes a sound, a low laugh, “When you said you’d close your eyes. Did you mean that?”

Your head tilts back, so you can see him. Where his face would be, your palms skimming down his arms, “Yeah, I meant that.”

He stands then, taking you with him - your legs still hooked around his waist. Walking you to the side of the springs before your feet touch down, fingers curling around your wrist - tugging them up until your hand covers your eyes.

“Is your house the same as mine?”

Helping you out of the pool as you answer, his hand around your other wrist, “Mirrored.”

Guiding you to the back door, taking a second in the dark to wipe you both down with the towels you left.

Before he’s pulling you deeper, through the kitchen. Back to your bedroom. It’s still dark when your back is pressing against the matress, his hips between your thighs.

The light is low here. A string of ambient bulbs twinkling above your bed, casting the room in a soft glow. He pauses, as you shift below him.

Looking debauched, where you lay against the mattress. Bare legs, you core just covered by the cloth bottoms. The peek of flushed, tight nipples where he has tugged your top aside.

Practically begging for his mouth, the brush of his tongue.

He had been planning to take you in the darkness. Now, he can’t bear the thought of not being able to watch you fall apart with his own eyes.

“Can I blindfold you?” He husks, fingers trailing up your thighs.

You don’t know why he’s asking, but you agree, “Sure. If that’s what you want.”

“Yes.” The tips changing course, tracing the cut of your swimsuit, along the inside of your thigh, “Do you have something I could use?”

Already, the lack of sight has you on edge in the best way - your legs inching further apart. The hand not covering your eyes reaching up - searching beneath the nest of pillows.

Fingers catching on the elastic of the sleeping mask, as you tug it down. Another gift that Karga had discarded, one that found its way into your pocket, along with the matching silk robe, the jar of bath oils.

He helps you fit it into place, his thumb smoothing over your cheek - as your sight dissolves into true darkness.

Gasping, as he tugs at the ties of your top - baring you. A pneumatic hiss that you don’t recognize - ears straining as something heavy is set down on the side table.

The wet swipe of a tongue against the curve of your breast, flattening over your nipple. Wrapping around to suck, teeth just barely scraping the sensitive bud.

“Fuck.” You hiss, reaching for him. Grasping strong shoulders that hover over you, as his knuckles trap the other, gently pinching.

His helmet. He took it off, for you.

The weight of his actions crash into you, a tightness in your chest that has you gasping. His groan sounding pretty as presses an open-mouth kiss against your sternum, the sound unfiltered.

Another, as he moves down.

“Wanted to fuck you in the hot springs,” Fingers catch on the waistband of your suit bottoms, your hips lifting as he pulls them down, “Tug these off of you, just like this. Would you have let me?”

You moan, unable to help it - your answer eager, “Yes. Anything you want.”

He hums in approval - broad hands nudging under your thighs, another tug as he pulls you towards the edge of your bed.

Even with the mask your eyes close, a thrill of excitement as you wait for the press of his cock. Aching for him to fill you, your mind taking you back to last time.

How he had sunk into you. The sweet stretch until the cool armor on his thighs pressed against your skin from behind.

“But there’s something else I wanted more.” His voice breaks into your thoughts, bringing you back.

And it’s not his cock that kisses your cunt. It’s his lips, pressed against the slick, swollen flesh. Your hips flex as you whimper, his hand sliding to press against your stomach.

Pinning you down, as he groans against your pussy. Tongue pointing to flick against your clit before he pulls back. The scratch of facial hair against your thigh as he presses a kiss there.

“Thought about you, too. Dreamed about tasting your sweet little cunt. Making you come on my tongue.”

His mouth following his words, warm where the rest against your skin. Taking his time as he spreads you open with his fingers. Tongue tracing from the tight bud of your clit, down.

Pressing the tip into you. Tasting your release, your slick arousal, as you reach for him. Fingers sinking into soft curls - another realization, another small detail about him that you tuck inside your heart.

You tug on them as he sighs against you, fucking you with his tongue. Slipping back up to wrap his lips around your clit and suck, while his fingers nudge at you.

Sinking the tip of one inside, teasing. Knuckles deep in your greedy cunt - first one, and then another. A low hum against your slit as you whine. Fingers crooking against the spongey spot that had you keening last time.

The combination is too much. Senses heightened to an extreme - each messy flick and press of his tongue sending sparks down your spine to collect and pool low in your belly.

Hearing each and every groan he makes, the rough timbre of his voice. Your own moans joining his, twisting around each other like your fingers in his curls.

The words panted out, achingly desperate.

“Oh, fuck-”

“Please, right there-”

Each breath shorter than the last. Your hands scrambling, leaving his locks to grip onto the pillow, as your hips flex against his mouth.

His fingers pounding steadily against a spot that makes you see stars. Chin and lips smeared with your slick as he coaxes you over the edge.

“Osik. I can feel you clenching around my fingers, mesh’la.” He groans, eyes fixed on where you take him, the silky shine of his fingers.

Flicking up to your face - wanting to watch you fall apart for him with his own eyes, “Want you to come for me, want to feel you gush on my fingers.”

And with a gasp, you do.

Your senses fading to a buzzing, white noise as your hips lift off the bed. Coming hard, pulsing around thick fingers as he watches, tilting his head to press his tongue against your clit. Feeling you there, each little thud where he’s pressed flat against you.

Leaving you gasping, loose-limbed. The sound turning warm and happy with the elation that spreads, settling over your limbs.

His hand swipes across his chin, as he pushes himself up. Arms wrapping under your thighs again, scooting you back onto the bed.

Achingly hard as he peels off the bottoms he still wears. Slick-stained fingers wrapping around his cock, the rough groan of relief as he jerks from base to flushed tip.

More than pleased by the way he has you smiling. Contented and floating, just from his fingers - the inexperienced swipe of his tongue.

He’d learn, for you. Let your fingers twist in his hair, tug him to the right spot until it’s all that he knows.

For now, he soaks you in. His knees pressing into the bed, hoisting your thighs over them. Angling his cock down, to tap against your pussy - a string of your slick clinging to the tip.

“Fuck, just look at you.”

Feeling it’s wet heat, the way you’re arching into him already. Eyes greedy as he presses into you, watching the tip sink in.

How the tight grip of your cunt chokes him - inching in further, before he’s retreating. Pulling back, sliding the soaked tip across your folds again.

Your teeth grit, your hands searching for him. Curling around his wrists, as his hands hold your hips in place.

“Mando, please. Don’t tease me.”

He sucks in a breath through clenched teeth. Tonight, you’re his. Days of uncertainty - wondering if you had thought of him the way he did of you, culminating in this moment of desire that burns through him.

Not wanting to hear the name that follows him like a shadow.

“Din.” He grits out. Something tight in his chest loosening, “My name. It’s Din Djarin.”

Your lips wrap around the gift, making him throb when you parrot it back to him. That need making itself known, as he sinks into you again.

“Want you to stay it when you come.” His hands yank your hips, as his snap forward. Seating himself fully as you moan - as he buries his cock in you.

Din’s voice sounding tight, as he adds, “You got that?”

“Yes, Din.” You sigh dreamily, clenching around him as he moans.

Letting him set a rhythm that starts slow - lets you feel each inch as he drags himself out, before snapping in. Picking up as you cling to him, shifting until your legs are wrapping around his waist.

Hovering over you, tucking you beneath him as his hips snap against yours. Your hands wandering - sliding across his shoulders. Thumbs sweeping over the hollow of his throat, down through the coarse hair across his chest.

So much skin, bared for you to touch. You want to know every inch. Wish you could see - but you’re not that greedy. Happy to take this reunion for every ounce that it was.

But he leans into it. The warmth of your hand, the way your thighs wrap around him. That stiff hold of his shoulder and back loosening, as he lowers himself further.

Unable to resist the urge to see what it’s like. To press his lips against your cheek, feeling the bite of your fingernails when you sigh in surprise.

The whimper as he moves closer to your mouth, until his lips are ghosting over yours. Your head tilting up to chase him in the dark.

His name, once again.

“Din.”

There’s a snarl that rises in this chest. Muffled by the time it reaches to his throat, as his lips finally press against yours.

Starting slow, like the rut of his hips. Just a soft brush, before he draws back for a breath. Coming back for another, as you sigh and arch into him. Lips parting as his tongue brushes the seam, his hand slipping up to cup the back of your head.

He tastes like you. The sweet tang of your pussy on his tongue. Delving into your mouth as he fucks you, as you can do little more than just cling to him.

Soft moans and the needy press of your mouths layering with the wet sound of your joining. The angle stroking his cock against the spot that his fingers found, stealing your thoughts.

Not even realizing it’s your own voice, the panting “please, please-”. Each breath after a soft “oh” that gets sharper, higher, with each gasp.

“Fuck, that’s it.” The voice in your ear sends a thrill down your spine. Joining that familiar fire that pools in your belly, “You’re taking me so well. Are you going to come for me again?”

His lips press against your throat, where your heart flutters. Feeling the bitten-back whine, as your legs clench around him.

Bracing yourself for the pleasure that’s about to tear through you, the spark that starts down low before it races down your limbs.

“Give me one more, cyar’ika.” He rasps, and you can’t help but obey.

That strung-tight string snaps. His name a sob on your lips as the orgasm crashes over you. A pleased hum against your skin as his thrusts snap harder - the rhythm sloppy as you tremble in his embrace.

Din’s breath is hot against your neck, his forehead pressed to your cheek. Feeling the tight clench of your wet cunt around his cock - his fingers biting into your hip as he seeks his own end.

“Where do you want me?” He grits out, “I’m not going to last, feel so good-”

Your legs tighten around his hips, pushing him deeper. Fingers lacing around his neck, the tip of one finding his curls again.

“Come in me.” You beg - hearing his rough groan at your words, “Still have the implant.”

“Fuck.”

He had felt it, last time. You had guided his fingers to the ridge beneath your skin, in that moment where you waited with baited breath for his cock to fill you.

Emptying himself the first time from behind, bent over some crates in the hull. The second, hours later. On your back, like this - but he had been armored then, your bare skin reflecting off the beskar as he stood between your thighs.

But now, your limbs are tangled. The heel of a foot pressed against his ass, his body rolling against yours. The messy press of his mouth against your skin.

A hiss, as he inhales.

Hands gripping onto you, as that breath is released in a rough groan, your own name on his lips. A sharp thrust as he buries himself deep, a shallow rock of his hips with each flex of his cock as he spills into you. The warmth flooding your walls, as he moves until you’ve taken all of him.

Until the aching, burning need is extinguished - as he relaxes like you did. Your nails scratching up his back and into his hair, a rumble of contentment as he shifts onto his side, and then back, pulling you with him.

Reaching down with one hand to pull the plug of the lights from the wall, blanketing the room in darkness. Fingers gentle as he lifts the mask. The brush of his lips against your eyelids.

Your cheek pressing against his chest, as his fingers trace patterns on your skin.

“I’m really happy I got to see you.” You yawn - blissfully limp, as you curl against him, “Even if you have to go.”

Sighing, as you arm drapes across his waist, “I’ll keep an eye on things until you come home.”

Home.

He can't pretend he hasn't already thought about it. What you had told him earlier, about these huts.

How the structures could change, evolve.

Spanning the space between your properties - expanding the walls and connecting hallways until the two houses become one. Truly a haven, a place where he could see himself growing old.

Not now, but... maybe someday.

Once this final quest was completed. Once he was redeemed. A true Mandalorian, once more.

But, that would be some time away. He has no idea what he will find on Mandalore. How long it will take to find Sundari, uncover the mines. It was no use to dwell on that future, when everything was uncertain.

So, instead… he finds himself silently hoping that the Anzellans will take just a little while longer.

Thanks for reading! Would love to know what you think 💖

mesh’la - beautiful / osik - shit / cyar’ika - sweetheart

#just a little something fun - I’ve missed writing for him #din djarin x reader #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x you #din djarin smut

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Shining Din Djarin x Female Reader

Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Summary: You want Mando to make you shine. Warnings: Smut, oral (m receiving), exhibitionism (you let Din watch you masturbate), p in v sex, creampie (reader has an implant), light sub/dom vibes, Din gets handcuffed by his own binders, sensory deprivation with the help of Din's helmet. Words: 3,735 A/N: This idea has been dancing around in my head for the past week, thanks to @frannyzooey for her thot night post and kind motivation. Also, shout out to "Ghost In The Machine" by SZA. I dunno man, this is the first time I've ever written Din and wow, he was fun.

Mandalorians want for nothing, so why did he want you so bad? 

Months of you joining him on his hunts, a damned demand of Karga. “She’s young and capable, she’ll be good for my little friend to have someone else to take care of him. I won’t take no, you owe me.” 

Your little trinkets taking up precious cargo in his small ship, your pretty face always shining through the display tempting him to give it all up just for a glimpse of the color of your soft skin, your beautiful body keeping him up and frustrated at night while you sleep soundly on the cot you insisted you needed. The only reason why he caved is because he was tired of you sneaking into his pod and leaving his blankets smelling like you. 

The kid, the damn kid loves you, adores you. He’s pretty sure he loves you more than he loves him. The way you talk to him with your sweet voice, the way you run over to him whenever he lets out a frustrated cry, the way his kid looks held in your arms as you soothe him.

He was frustrated, he was at his breaking point. You’re so beautiful and so delicate and yet you call him out on his shit, you keep him in line. He’s never wanted anybody like he wants you.

He hated facing you after stepping out of the fresher, always feeling like you can look behind the beskar he’s covered in. Like you know he just came on the shower wall imagining the cold, flat metal is the warm, silky skin of your tits. 

Tonight, in the middle of nowhere on this backwater planet, you trounce around the fire in your gauze sleep gown, smiling and laughing as the kid chases you. You look like an angel, lit by the flames licking across your skin casting your body in a deep amber glow. He tries to focus on the gun he’s cleaning to keep his attention off of you but he can’t stop staring. He counts the minutes until it’s the kid’s bedtime. He has to do something about this, either he needs to take you back home or he needs to feel how your cunt feels wrapped around his cock. Taking you home would be easier. 

——

“Well, that didn’t take long,” you say, leaning against the opening of the ship. 

He nods at you, his helmet still downcast focused on cleaning his armor. He’s gotten used to you obviously, he’ll at least remove a piece of armor in front of you. Never the helmet, you understand that, but seeing him without his usual chest piece makes you so wet he might as well be fully naked.

You’re going mad, the Crest isn’t a big ship and he’s a big man. If you have to feel the cool touch of beskar against your skin as you move past him one more time you just might explode. 

You’re used to getting what you want, you’re smart, you’re clever, you’re resolute. Like Karga always tells you, “you have spunk kid, nobody will ever be able to tell you no.” That’s why you put the white nightgown on, he might be wearing a helmet, but you can always tell just how much he likes what you’re wearing by how hard you feel his stare behind that faceless mask, you really feel it whenever you wear this. 

“He’s tired,” you walk down the ramp, “I think all I did today was play with him, don’t know why he needed so much attention.” 

“He knows you’ll always give him it.”

“Really?” You roll your eyes as you sit across the fire from him. “At least he’ll sleep through the night, you’re welcome by the way.” 

“Hm,” he nods, still preoccupied by shining his armor. 

“Think it’s shiny enough, big guy?” You lean over, your hands resting on your knees, the neckline of your dress dipping farther down as you lean forward to look at him above the fire.

“Just about,” he’s rubbing his chest plate harder and faster… you know he’s avoiding looking over at you. 

“I love how your armor reflects the flames,” your voice coming out lower and huskier. “I love being able to watch the fire burn on your chest, like your heart’s been set aflame.”

His hand pauses, the cloth he was using sits idle against the metal. His helmet tilts up, you feel his eyes back on you. 

“Is it shiny enough for me to see that now?” 

A single nod before he lifts his armor over his head and attaches it. “I can see,” you whisper.

He stares forward, his eyes are on you, something has shifted in the air of this small circle around the fire.

You lean even more forward, the plush of your breasts almost spilling out of your dress. You watch his chest rise as he takes a deep breath in. 

“I wish I could shine like you,” your confession leaving your mouth as you run a hand up and down your neck and chest.

“You shine,” the modulated voice sizzles through you.

“Yeah? How bright can I shine for you tonight?” Your hand dipping underneath the fabric of your dress petting back and forth across your breasts.

“As bright as you want for me.”

“Sure about that? I can burn really bright. Can I see if I burn bright in your armor?”

He straightens, sitting taller and nods.

You rise off the rock, grabbing the bottom of your dress as you stand, lifting it up over your head.

You pad over to him naked, the crisp breeze of the forest hitting your skin. It truly feels like you’re the only two people on this whole planet. His hands clench into fists as you stand in front of him. 

“Can’t see much, just the outline of my body in the flickering light. What do you see?”

“You,” the modulated crackling as he chokes out, “all of you.”

You lift one of his hands, grabbing the edge of his glove. “Can I?” 

He nods. 

You remove it. Thick fingers, well manicured short nails, trails of veins running through strong muscles. Your cunt begins to weep as you think of what his hand would feel like between your legs. You’ve seen his bare hands before, sometimes he gives the kid it to entertain himself with, sometimes he needs his hand bare to repair something. But, you’ve never seen it this close. It’s the only body part you’ve seen of his, you imagine the rest of him to be just as golden, just as toned, just as thick as his hand. 

You rest it on your hip, a moan escapes your mouth at the contact. He lets out a huff of modulated air as he grips your skin. 

“Maker,” you whisper into the night sky, just his hand on you igniting something powerful. He tests you, running a lazy line up to your chest and back down to your hips, the path sets your skin ablaze. You want him to go lower, you want one of his thick fingers to push inside, you want him to feel how wet you are.

“See, sometimes you shine too bright, and it does things to me. Sometimes I can’t look away and it makes being around you really hard for me and I have to sneak my hand down at night ‘n try to dull that ache. I think you feel the same way… sometimes I can hear you in that fresher,” his head raises towards you, his grip tightening now searing against your skin, “the walls are thin.”

“I hear you… I-I listen.” Maker, his voice. You’ve never heard his voice this way, the shame dripping out of the tinny speakers.

Your eyebrow raises at his confession. “You listen to me?”

A solemn nod, downcast.

“Hey,” you touch the edge of his helmet, lifting it so he can look at you. This is the first time you’ve ever touched it. In fact, this is the first time you’ve actually touched him, besides a quick brush as you move past or put the baby in his arms. “I like that. Would you watch me if you could?” 

His helmet nods in your hold. 

You can feel the tensity radiating off of him, you know he’s a hunter you know that under all of those layers he’s screaming to get out, to attack you, to make you his bounty. 

“You know, I see you hunt people all of the time. I can’t explain what it does to me to see your big body in the distance walking towards us and the ship, your bounty cuffed and subservient to you. I love the power you hold, but I think you’d like someone else to have that power over you. Am I right?”

“Yes.” 

“Can I have that power over you?” 

“Yes.”

“You want to watch me?” 

He nods.

You turn away from him, grabbing the blanket folded on the rock you were using earlier to look up at the stars with the kid, laying it on the ground by the fire. You settle yourself on it, the warmth from the flames heating your body. You lean back on your hands, locking your knees together. 

“Tell me what you want to see, you’re such a being of few words, talk to me.”

“Open your legs.”

You separate your legs, spreading them open, your pussy is on full display for him, dripping for him. His hands rest on his knees as he leans forward. 

“Touch yourself,” he whispers out.

You trail your hand down to in between your legs, rubbing a line from your clit to your hole. 

“Am I shining here for you?”

“Yes,” the modulator crackles as he hisses.

Your fingers light a trail around your clit, your hips cant up whenever you rub against the tight bundle of nerves. You’re putting on a show for him, biting your lip and staring straight forward into the small window of his helmet. Even though you can’t see them, you know his eyes are only focused on you. You moan into the night, tilting your head back to look at the stars as your finger dips into your entrance. 

You can hear his breathing over the squelchy sound of your finger pumping in and out of you, your head turning back down towards him when you hear a low groan. His hands are gripping his knees, he’s leaning over as far as he can as he watches you fuck yourself. 

The way his large shoulders are rising and falling rapidly as his breathing quickens makes your body ache, your palm knocks against your clit as you add another finger and fuck yourself.  

“Do you want me to cum for you like this?” 

“C-c-can I touch you when you do?”

Oh, his voice. It’s so heavy and yet so light. You’ve never heard it like this, he sounds so young, so excited, so unlike the scary Mandalorian that secretly intimidates you, not that you’d ever let him know. 

“Come here,” you shuffle your feet wider, spreading your legs as far as you can. “Kneel down.”

He moves lightning quick, a dash of metal appearing in between your legs. He’s so fucking big, so fucking broad, so fucking handsome, so fucking strong, he drives you crazy and all you’ve ever seen of him is his hand. 

He takes his other glove off and throwing it to the side before tentatively placing his hands on your knees, the feel of his rough palms planting against your soft skin bringing you closer to your climax. 

“Cum for me,” he whispers. You wish he didn’t have that damn helmet, you wish his real voice could float across the air and land against your cunt. 

His hands grip you harder as your hips begin to rise and fall while you writhe against the soft blanket, your cunt tightening around your fingers as you pull yourself onto the cliff and leap down into the ocean of your pleasure. 

You don’t break eye contact with Mando, his firm stare you feel behind that damned black shield shattering your heart and your pussy into a million pieces as you scream out into the vast wilderness of the night. 

His hands chart a path across your knees, his touch so gentle versus the way he was just clutching you as you came for him. 

“Did I shine for you?” Your voice comes out smaller and more delicate than you wanted. 

“Brightly.” 

“Can I make you shine bright for me?” 

“Yes.”

“Can I have my way with you, the way I want it? The way I’ve dreamed about taking you?” You sit up, his hands still rub your legs, as if once you’ve given him permission to touch you it’s all he wants to do now. 

He nods. 

You turn your head to the side, looking at all of his now clean weapons laid out on the table. The binders are still there, their presence has been on your mind since you saw him pick them up earlier to clean. 

“Can I borrow something from over there?”

“What?”

“Can I borrow your binders?”

“Y-yes.”

You rise up off the blanket, moving quickly to pick them up, as if you don’t do this right now, he’s going to back out. You’re now the hunter. You pick them up in your hand, they’re heavier than you thought, the metal is cool against your touch.

“Can I cuff you like I caught you… like you’re my bounty?”

His deep growl as he tips his head back shoots a wave of pleasure through your body, you can only assume it matches what he’s currently feeling. You love that the two of you are now sharing in each other’s pleasure instead of hiding it behind the thin metal walls of a spaceship. 

“Yes.”

You can’t hide your smile as you stalk towards him, like he’s now caught and you’re ready to get your reward. He hasn’t moved from where he knelt in front of you as he watched you fuck yourself.

“Can you take your vambraces off for me?”

He deftly removes them without a word, laying them next to him.

“Can you do something else for me?” 

He nods.

“Can you show me how to turn your volume and display off in your helmet? You saw my cunt, you heard me fuck myself, but you’ve never felt my pussy or mouth. I want you to only feel it now.”

“Dank farrik,” he grunts. “Yes.” 

He picks up a vambrace, putting in a couple of codes, his fingers driving you crazy as they move across the small buttons. 

“Press this when you want it,” he pants out as he hands it to you.

“Thank you. Put your hands in front, raise them up.” 

He follows your instructions. He looks so good like this, kneeling in front of you ready to serve, you like having this power over him. This must be how he feels whenever he catches his prey.

You grab one of his arms, pushing the sleeve up of his flight suit. His skin is just as bronzed as you expected it to be, born that way, hidden away for years underneath fabric and armor. You do the same with the other arm, the sight of his toned and hairy forearms causing a wave of heat to spread over your body.

You put a cuff over his wrist, locking it in place. You look up at him, checking to make sure he’s okay with this. He nods his approval as you slip the other cuff on and lock it. He’s now bound, still kneeling, his thick legs supporting him as he lowers his hands down. 

“Good?” You whisper as you stand tall in front of him. “Lay on your back, put your arms over your head.” 

You’ll never not be shocked at how big he is, yet how easily he moves in his large body. He takes up the whole blanket. Your mouth waters as you notice how his pants are tented as he lays down for you.

“I promise I won’t remove any more armor or your helmet, but I will help myself to you. I want you to be as loud as you can be, let yourself go, let me have the power, you deserve it. I’m going to turn off the display and your sound, is that okay?”

“Yes, Maker, yes.”

“If you need me, say Lothal,” you hit the button he showed you, Din’s head thuds against the dirt as you imagine he’s now cast in complete darkness and silence. You listen to his deep breathing as you look down at him. Fuck, this is going to be good. 

You settle on the ground kneeling between his spread legs, just like he did for you. Your hands move across the rough fabric of his flight suit, his hoarse groan rumbles through his body when you caress his thighs.

“That’s it, that’s it baby,” you whisper to nobody, the thrill of seeing him like this letting go for you makes your head spin. 

The shape of his hard cock straining against the zipper of his flight suit beckons you. You run a hand across it, his whole body shudders. He’s panting, the sounds of his struggle soaring into the air causing goosebumps to prickle against your skin and your cunt to clench.

You lick your lips as you unzip the zipper, grabbing the heft of him and lifting it out. Maker, Maker, Maker. He’s so wide and firm, just like you knew he would be. Swollen, throbbing, fucking gorgeous, precum leaking down his tip.   

He lets out a rasped “ahhh” as you wrap your fist around his length. His skin is so soft, so silky, so firm. Your thumb swipes across his tip, collecting the precum on the pad of it, bringing it to your mouth to taste him. He tastes delicious… salty and musky. You sit back and watch him lay there vulnerable only for you, his exposed cock twitching in the light of the fire. Your head, heart, and core are heavy with want for this mystery of a man… you wonder if anybody has ever had him like you do right now. 

“Mesh’la?” His voice breaks you out of your daze. Mando’a, you’ve never heard him speak it. You make a note to yourself to look that word up on your datapad later. 

“I’m here,” you say before realizing he can’t hear you. You place a hand on his thigh and gently squeeze it as you lay in between his thick thighs, his legs caging you in. 

You angle your head forward and seal your mouth over the head of his cock, his whole body shivers as you suck him. He feels so good in your mouth, you love the slight stretch of your lips as you move his length down your throat. 

Your eyes water as you take him all the way down, his tip hitting the back of your throat making you gag around him. You slide him out of your mouth, grabbing him at the base and slapping his length against your lips, you revel in the sting it leaves against your skin as you stick him back in and bob your mouth up and down, your tongue tasting the salt of his skin. 

You hollow your cheeks around him, the combined sounds of ecstasy coming out of the speakers of his helmet mixed with the slurp of your lips soundtrack the night as his hips begin to lift when he begins fucking into your mouth. 

You know he’s close, the way his moans garble, the way his hips begin to stutter as you swirl your tongue against him. He chokes out a protest as you slip him out of your mouth, leaving him pulsing. You’re selfish, you want what you want and he’s given you the opportunity tonight to take whatever you want from him. 

You grab his vambrace before sitting down and straddling his thighs. Reaching down you grab his cock, angling him to rub between your soaked folds, the tip bumps against your swollen clit and you yelp. 

You want him to watch, you want him to hear. You hit the button on his vambrace, his helmet instantly pops up, the black T of his helmet angled to look right at the apex of your thighs. 

“Wanted you to see this,” you say as you rise up, grabbing his cock and slowly sinking yourself down on it. 

Your body accepts all of him as you roll your hips, getting comfortable around the feeling of being stuffed so full of him.

“You feel so good in me, I knew you would, let me do the work, let me fuck you,” you whimper as he stretches your tight hole. 

You use him to fuck yourself, he lays perfectly still like you asked him, you never imagined he’d listen so well to your instructions. He’s panting for you, his arms still raised above his head, his wrists straining against the cuffs, hands forming tight fists as you begin to pound him. 

You move your hand down to start rubbing circles around your clit, you’re on the edge of another orgasm, you can tell he’s even closer. 

“You can cum for me, I have the implant, I want to feel you pump your cum inside me, cum for me Mando.”

His helmet bobbles as his body shudders underneath you.

It destroys you, the feel of his big cock spearing you as he empties himself into you, the sound of the garbled words he’s grunting as he tilts his hips up into you, the feel of your fingers tracing your clit, the heat of the fire warming your already feverish body. 

You strangle his cock as you orgasm, your slick mixing with his spend inside you as you lean forward on him, laying your body on top of his. You reach up and remove both cuffs, throwing them to the side as he shakes each hand out. You stare into his helmet, you can make out the reflection of your face in the black T of his visor. 

“I can see myself shining in you now,” you say as he wraps his arms around you. 

#din djarin fic #din djarin ff #Mandalorian fic #din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin smut #pedro pascal #mandalorian smut #din djarin x reader #mandalorian x you #pedro pascal character fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction #mandalorian fanfic #Mandalorian ff #din djarin one shot

[psychedelic-ink]

𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐑 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐁𝐘𝐒𝐒.

DAY EIGHT OF HAUNTED HOEDOWN

prompt: cult au + “do you like it when i bleed for you?”

pairing: cult leader!din djarin x f!reader

genre: explicit smut, minors dni

summary: din initiates you into the cult.

word count: 1.1k

warnings: dubcon (power imbalance), manipulation, innocence kink, corruption kink, blood/blood kink, blowjob, soft dom!din kinda

Your eyes follow the man in armor in front of you. 

It’s just you and him, no one else. No one to hear you scream or beg while you are initiated. He removes the plates of his arms one by one, the majority of his armor staying along with his helmet. There’s a fire burning behind him. The flickering orange and yellow bathes his armor in light and you stare, mesmerized by how shadows deepen all around his armor. 

“You can’t leave after this,” he says, voice modulated. “You will be one of us.” 

“Can I see your face then?” you ask innocently, batting his eyes at him. He tilts his head, observing your soft smile and clutched thighs. You want to see him. Be with him. He had been protecting you for years, looking out for you, teaching you the way and how to live a happy life. He’d told you once, how he cared for you, but couldn’t give you a name or show you his face until you were properly initiated. That was the creed. 

He stills for a moment. You see the tension building in his muscles and doubt begins to swirl in your chest. You want to please him and the thought of saying something that might upset him makes your stomach churn.

“Yes,” he answers finally, every word pronounced carefully. “I don’t show my face to anyone though, I want you to remember that and know how special you are to me. Understood?” 

You nod and he shakes his head, “Use your words mesh’la. Use my name, it’s Din.” 

“Yes, Din,” you answer. Your cheeks warm up. His name hits your tongue just right, as if your mouth is made to repeat his name over and over again. 

Satisfied, he nods and pulls out a sharp dagger from his waist. The gleam catches your eye and your pulse quickens. You have no idea how the initiation works, your excitement courses through your veins, and pounds in your ears. His visor reflects your wide-eyed expression. 

“On your knees,” he says. 

You quickly obey, ignoring how the stone scrapes your skin. He displays his forearm, bringing the sharp edge of the dagger to his skin. Din cuts himself slowly, blood trickling instantly from the long wound. Your heart jumps, eyes going wide. You almost feel a cut of your own tingling over your forearm and it pains you to see him bleeding. 

But also, you know this is not something he does for everyone. 

Your pupils dilate, mouth flooding with saliva with the prospect of pressing your lips against the crimson blood. 

“Repeat after me,” he says, drawing you away from your disrespectful thoughts. You nod. The blood ebbs like spiderwebs across his skin, coiling around his bare wrist and dripping from his fingers to the cold stone ground. 

He begins, voice soft and words slow, “I swear on my name and the names of the ancestors. . .” 

 “I swear on my name and the names of the ancestors. . .” you repeat dutifully. 

“that I shall walk the way of the mand’alore. . .” 

“that I shall walk the way of the mand’alore. . .” 

 “and the words of the creed shall be forever forged in my heart.” 

 “and the words of the creed shall be forever forged in my heart. . .” 

“This is the way.” 

“This is the way.” 

He curls two bloody fingers under your chin and tilts your head further up. You feel the warmth of his essence on your skin, the scent of iron filling your nostrils. “Do you like it when I bleed for you?”

“Yes,” you answer without thought, feeling the blood moving down your neck, following the path between your breasts. He slightly bends his knees, leaning over you as he tugs your bottom lip down with his thumb. You exhale when he smears the tender flesh with his blood, marking you, and you taste him. 

He sighs, “Maker, I can’t wait to ruin you.” 

Din pulls away and you lick the blood from your lips. Oddly enough he tastes sweet to you, even though you know it’s impossible. Your eyes drop to the front of his pants where he unzips himself, your mouth goes dry at the size of his hard cock. He’s not too long, but the thickness of it is enough for you to shudder with pleasure. 

“Have you ever sucked cock before?” he asks, coming closer and tracing your lips with his bloody fingers. Insticeticly, you part your lips and he slips them inside, he groans as you swirl your tongue, cleaning him off. 

“No,” you answer. “It never seemed that appealing to me.”

“How about now?” 

The drop of his voice, the rasp beneath the words, all of it makes your mind go completely blank. Silent. You swallow around his fingers. He withdraws his fingers, “It’s very tempting,” you breathe out, tongue swiping over your bottom lip. 

Din ignores your answer, “Open your mouth. Wide,” he groans and when you do, he pushes himself inch by inch into your mouth. Tears build in your eyes and he cradles the side of your face with one hand, keeping you still. He doesn’t stop until you’re choking around him, a moan echoing from underneath the helmet. 

Tears fall one by one as he begins to thrust his hips, burying his cock down your throat with every move. You brace yourself by placing your palm on his thighs. The muscles bulge underneath your hands. Arousal pools between your legs. He’s using you just like you wanted, owning you and making you yours. 

“That’s it. You’re doing so well,” his head tilts back, pushing you down until your nose is buried within the dark curls. You can barely breathe. The mixture of precome and blood heavy on your tongue. You feel him pulse as your throat convulses around him, then he pulls back, a growl reaching your ears. “My sweet girl, always so eager to please.” 

Din pulls out slowly and you can feel the slickness on your tongue. His hand slides from your chin up the side of your head. His rough thumb traces your lower lip. You can feel his gaze like a brand on your skin. he takes a deep breath and exhales before taking himself into his hand. The head of his cock is an angry shade of red, precome glistening beautifully at the slit. 

Before he can command it, you open your mouth and stick out your tongue. He fists himself before spilling his hot cum all over your lips and chin, dripping down your face. His moans and whimpers are beautiful, a sight only you’re allowed to see. 

There’s so much of it, his cock continuously twitches and throbs in his hand. He ruins you, just like he promised. Staining you with his seed. Your insides clench when you imagine Din coming inside instead of on your face. 

When he’s finished, he tucks himself back into his pants and reaches for his helmet. 

“As promised,” he says, voice hoarse, scratching your ears just right. 

You finally see the real face of the man in armor.

And he’s beautiful.

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x fem!reader #din djarin au #din djarin smut #cult leader!din djarin #hauntedhoedown #pedro pascal character fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfic #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalotian x fem!reader #the mandalorian x f!reader

[netherfeildren]

The Cassandra Complex : Masterlist

Pairing: Din Djarin/The Mandalorian x F!Reader

Summary: Enter: A man who is not so much a man, but an effigy, a wound of steel and armor and Creed – secrecy and masked faces, above all else. 

Enter: A girl who is not a girl, but a creature helmed in darkness and spit out unto the galaxy broken and unmoored. 

Enter: The creation of myth.

-OR-

the dark sider/mandalorian au no one knew they needed

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: Canon typical violence; Graphic depictions of violence; Canon divergence; Themes of redemption; And forgiveness; THE RAZOR CREST LIVES BITCH!!!!; Soft!Dom Din Djarin; Protective behavior; Possessive behavior; Unprotected sex; Creampie; Breeding kink; Size difference; Size kink; Rough sex; Spanking; Overstimulation; Brat taming; Touched-Starved Din Djarin; Angst with a happy ending; Hurt/comfort; Fluff and smut; Inappropriate Use Of the Force; Discussions of infertility; References to Greek Mythology; Past abuse; Not safe to read if triggered by pregnancy; Violence as a metaphor for desire and intimacy; Other additional tags to be added 

Read on AO3

PART I :

Chapter I: Apollo

Chapter II: Prometheus

Chapter III: Psyche

Chapter IV: Aite

Chapter V: Morpheus

Chapter VI : Sisyphus

Chapter VII : Hysminai

Chapter VIII : Melpomene

Interlude : Tartarus

PART II :

Chapter IX : Persephone

Chapter X: Geryon

Chapter XI: Lethe

Chapter XII: Venus

Chapter XIII: Eros

Chapter XIV: Dionysus

Chapter XV:

⚡️Din and Sithy art by the wonderfully talented @dirtysouvenir

⚡️Updates Blog : Follow and turn on notifications for new writing!

#TCC fic #din djarin #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x you #din djarin fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #din djarin x reader #din djarin x female reader #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x original character #din djarin fic #din djarin smut #din djarin angst #din djarin imagine #the mandalorian smut #the mandalorian angst #the mandalorian imagine #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #vic fic

[luxurychristmaspudding]

let me be needed

summary: the mandalorian pays you an unexpected visit. you both get more than you bargained for.

pairing: din djarin x f!sex worker!reader

ratings/warnings: 18+, MDNI. set in the star wars universe. sub!din, soft dom!reader, oral (m receiving), thighriding. established sexual relationship. you get cockblocked by grogu and feel a little sad at the end :(

wc: 3k

an: written for @iamasaddie's writing challenge!! <3 i know i said this would be for dieter, i know. it still might be. the links to din are SO tenuous but that tin can has left me with devastating brain rot.

The Razor Crest is docked in a terminal in the main part of the city, but you are yet to see the Mandalorian. 

Not that you particularly expect to, but it’s rare that he takes a trip to your city and doesn’t visit. 

You’ve been busy enough with customers all day not to dwell on it, and as the evening begins to wind down, golden light slanting through the windows, you begin to make peace with the fact that he might just not have time. He has the child to look after, and, presumably, quarry to retrieve. 

You make your way back to your room with a fresh cup of caf, passing the droid which mans reception and the welcome area. 

‘You have a client waiting,’ it says, smooth and robotic. You frown.

‘Who?’

‘A walk in. They did not leave a name.’

You nibble at your lip and sigh, gut swooping, heart kicking up a notch at the thought of him seeking you out at last. You shake it away. The last thing you need is to be disappointed further by some ragged old merchant laid out on the bed.

When the metal of your door clicks and sweeps open, you do well to suppress your delight. The Mandalorian is sat upright on the mattress, hands clasped over his lap.

‘I’m surprised to see you, Mando,’ you say, placing your mug on the console and busying yourself with your data-pad to check his information. ‘I wasn’t expecting you today.’

‘I wasn’t expecting to be here.’ He answers, voice smooth and husky through his vocoder. But it’s twinged with something a little different, a little warmer - you notice it the more he speaks. You smile up at him.

‘Anything changed?’ 

‘No.’ He says, and you tick the relevant boxes on the data-pad, tucking it away again on the console by the threshold.

‘Business or pleasure?’ You ask, locking the door.

‘Business.’ 

Your mouth quirks.

‘Nothing to do with me?’

He cocks his head at you, and you flutter your eyelashes like he hasn't already paid the droid on reception your fee and, likely, a generous tip. 

‘No. No bounty for you.’ 

You smile with your teeth as you move towards him, the helmet tilting to watch you, to look up and down your body.

‘So pleasure, then?’ You purr, placing your hands on his shoulders.

‘Pleasure.’ He echoes, voice a little tighter than normal, betraying him more than you’re used to. You cup the side of his beskar cheek, stroking your thumb over the cool of the steel, though you know he can’t feel it.

‘What do you need?’ you ask, gently. ‘Do you want to watch me again? Or do you want my hands?’

Mando’s head drops to look down and away from you. You’re getting used to it - to an extent - his hesitancy, his shame. It spurs you on, wants you to make him feel good, to realise his desires. To live them, and not push them away. It’s why you wait for him to come around.

‘I want -’ he starts, but cuts himself off with a choked sound, and you tilt your head. You place two fingers below his helmet and tilt his chin up towards you.

‘Use your words, Mando,’ you remind him. You’re rewarded with a sharp intake of breath.

‘I want - your mouth.’ He breathes.

And whatever you were expecting, it was not that.

You keep his chin tilted upwards, eyes searching his visor as though you could see the face beneath.

‘You’re sure?’

The Mandalorian nods, once.

‘Yes.’

You nod back, considering, thumb swiping back and forth again over the beskar.

‘Are you gonna be good?’

A broken moan filters through the modulator, and his head tips back further of its own accord.

‘Yes.’

You smile down at him.

‘Take yourself out for me, baby.’

You step away from him as the hunter’s hands scrabble with his fly, shifting his hips up briefly so he can pull his cock from his trousers. He grunts when it makes contact with the cold air of your room, and holds it steady, squeezing at the base. You coo at him, at the deeply flushed tip, at the precum already smeared down his length.

‘Oh, baby boy,’ you breathe, lowering yourself to your knees with two hands on his. You blow even cooler air on his tip, smirking as he flinches and hisses. ‘How long have you been like this?’

‘Dinner.’ He grits out. You raise your eyebrows at him.

‘Hours?’

He nods quickly, squeezing his base again. You watch, thrilled, as more precum oozes out.

‘Yeah. Couldn’t leave without seeing you. Knowing you were so close by. Just had to get the kid to sleep.’

You pout at him.

‘My poor Mandalorian. Let me make it better.’

He watches with dogged devotion as you lean forward and brace your elbows on his knees. You watch as his gloved hands clench the edge of the bed in anticipation as you draw near, watch his thighs tense beneath his clothing and armour as he feels your breath against his skin.

You don’t let him think anymore before you’re licking a long, hot stripe from his heavy balls to his tip, and his whole body goes slack, helmet thumping against his breastplate. When you do it a second time, a ragged, torn breath echoes from the modulator, and you hum against him, bringing a hand to his base to squeeze as you slot your lips over the tip.

Mando knows the rules from here. He has to watch you, has to keep his visor trained to your movements, has to keep his hands to himself. These are his rules every time. 

You’re excited to see how he holds up tonight. 

You swirl your tongue around his slit, and he groans long and loud, twitching as you flutter at his frenulum. His precum is thick and salty in your mouth, and you swallow it greedily before loosening your jaw and taking him all the way to the base. 

The Mandalorian’s whole body goes rigid as he watches you, feels you take him down your throat and swallow around him.

‘Fuck,’ he half-sobs through the modulator, and you hum against him. ‘So good. How is your mouth so good? How do you -’ he cuts himself off as you begin to bob up and down him, swirling your tongue and hollowing your cheeks. He chokes out moan after moan, lost at what to do with himself. 

But he doesn’t touch you. He’s a stickler for rules, after all.

When you pull off him to breathe, you make sure he sees you palm your tits through your dark tunic. Make sure he sees you cup your sex through your trousers, rolling your eyes back for good measure, already feeling the wetness soak through the linen.

‘Fuck, baby,’ you groan, ‘If you could feel what you’re doing to me.’

He moans desperately as you move your mouth back to him, taking him faster, deeper, stroking what you can’t manage so easily.

You huff against the neatly trimmed hair at his base as your nose presses against his belly, and the Mandalorian physically holds his breath, drawing his spine straight as you swallow around him again, as you move a hand to cup his balls, feeling them tighten.

‘Please,’ he gasps, ‘Please, please, I’m so close -’

You draw off him, painfully slow, and pump him with your hand as you talk.

‘You wanna come, baby boy?’ You coo, fluttering your eyelashes and drawing your brows together. His helmet bops hastily, sharp breaths being drawn in through hidden teeth.

‘Please,’ he chokes.

You nod.

‘You can come, baby. You’ve waited long enough.’

He whimpers loudly, unrestrained as you continue pumping his base and sucking his tip, fluttering and tracing with your tongue, sucking with just enough pressure to send him hurtling over the edge. His hips push up into your throat as he comes, spilling himself, warm and salty, down your throat. His cock twitches and jumps as he moans brokenly above you, the noise unusually vibrant through the vocoder. You keep him in your mouth long enough for the overstimulation to kick in, and let him whine and beg and thrust shallowly a little longer before you pull off him, smiling.

You swallow and open your mouth, and he groans at the sight of his spend disappearing. 

‘You okay, baby boy?’ You ask as you gently tuck him back into his trousers, doing up his fly. He tries his best to catch his breath, heavy head hanging limply between his shoulders.

‘Yeah,’ he gasps. ‘So good. Thank you. So good.’ 

You hum approvingly at him, standing. 

The sight of him still so spent, so fucked out, has you burning. You press your thighs together through your trousers just as he looks up. 

His movements are languid, his words slurred, but his shoulders square. His hands twitch at his sides, loosening their grip on the mattress.

‘Take them off,’ he begs. ‘Please. I just want to see -’

You raise an eyebrow at him, at his tone. You want to be unimpressed, want to be disappointed. But the horrible, deep ache you feel in your core won’t let you. You’re soaked, and as Mando continues to meet your eye from the helmet, you begin to move.

He sucks in a breath, huffs out a moan as you hook your thumbs in the waistband and push them down. They pool easily at your feet and you step out of them, left bare after having forgone underwear as soon as you’d seen the Razor Crest this morning.

Your chest heaves, and all the Mandalorian can do is stare at you, taking in the shiny slick covering your pussy, so painfully obvious now you’re not covered.

‘You’re wet,’ he says, voice heavy and desperate, cracking. ‘You haven’t been touched. Come here. Come here, sit down -’ as he moves one of your legs on either side of his thigh and presses you down onto it, hands on your hips. You let him, going easily, brain fogged with arousal. 

The metal is bitingly cold, and you hiss as your clit makes contact. But Mando continues, unfazed. 

‘Go on, pretty girl,’ he groans. ‘Go on. Wanna see you come like this. Want you to feel good, too.’

You moan against him, driving and grinding your hips down. It feels wrong, the way he’s so quickly taken control, but having him finally in charge makes you feel lightheaded. Wanted, needed.

And it already feels so good.

‘Good girl,’ he whispers in your ear as you lay your head on his shoulder. ‘Such a good girl. Using your fucking mouth on me. I want you to come. Need you to come.’

You moan loudly against him, gasping at the coolness, how solid he feels as he rocks you back and forth. You’ll recall this later, imagining his cock instead, imagining dragging yourself over it, onto it, feeling him thick and long, moving inside you as you whisper praises to each other, as you clench around him. The tightness in your stomach grows more ferocious, winding itself until it’s hot, strong. If you can catch the right angle, if you can steal five more minutes -

A loud, ringing shriek fills the room, and you jump out your skin. The Mandalorian’s firm hands on your hips are the only thing that keep you from leaping up. He growls as your heart hammers in your chest, as you look around wildly for its source.

‘Mando -’ you moan -

‘Keep going. It’s nothing.’ He grits, and the shock of hearing his voice firm like this, close and a little clearer than usual, makes your cunt clench. You moan against his pauldron, teeth scraping against the metal as you give in, as he moves your hips faster, as you feel yourself moving easier over the slick you’re swiping over his armour.

‘Feels so good,’ you murmur. ‘Wanna soak you. Want you to go back outside to your ship and everyone to know where you’ve been. Want them to know how you made me come for you.’

He groans back at you, digging his fingers into your flesh, pulling, pushing, pulling, pushing, and you grit your teeth against a particularly strung out fuck as his vambrace begins to shriek and buzz with more urgency. Mando’s hands on your hips falter and then stop completely. You whimper against him, sucking in air as you bury yourself in his clothed neck.

‘I’m sorry,’ he says, and you tilt your head back to gaze, bleary-eyed, at him. ‘I have to go.’

He lifts your hips effortlessly off his lap and sets you on unsteady feet, holding your arms until he’s sure you won’t fall.

‘Did I do something wrong?’ You croak, panic clawing up your throat as he rises. Your legs shake, wet almost down to your knees, and you feel so bare and vulnerable. Fuck, you should have known -

‘No. No. Stars, I -’ The Mandalorian looks around the room, exasperated. He looks down and catches sight of your wetness spread on his thigh guard. He groans breathily, and your cunt pulses at the noise. ‘I want to stay. I want this. It’s the kid -’ he huffs, shaking his head. ‘He’s fuckin’ with the ship. Maker, the day he listens -’

‘It’s okay,’ you soothe, relieved. ‘It’s okay, let me clean you up.’

‘No.’ He barks. You flinch, and he rounds his shoulders apologetically. He repeats it, softer. ‘No. I want people to see. Want them to know,’ he steps closer, a gloved hand coming out to touch your jaw. You allow your chin to dip into it. ‘And I want to remember. Before I come back.’

You swallow, staring into his visor, seeing yourself reflected back - needy, wide-eyed - a state he has never had you in before.

Another sharp, tinny noise echoes from his vambrace, and he hisses out a frustrated, pained sigh. You soften your gaze.

‘Next time.’

‘Next time,’ he agrees. ‘Next time, I’ll - I want you to feel so good. Going to make you feel so good.’

You can’t help the shudder that runs down your spine, the way your body curls in on itself at his promise. Mando clears his throat, agitated, and busies himself with signing the data-pad, his back to you. You’re grateful. The longer he stares at you, watches you, the easier you find it to forget about the adorable little green frog he travels with.

‘And get your helmet checked,’ you say absentmindedly, gathering your trousers from the floor. The Mandalorian stops at the door.

‘What?’

You flush, biting down on your lip. Shake your head, shrug.

‘Your vocoder. One of the filters for the frequency bands in the modulator sounds like it’s damaged.’

He whips his head to look at you, unreadable. You twist your mouth at him.

‘Used to be a mechanic.’

‘A mechanic?’ He asks from the doorway. You try to smile at him, wishing you’d kept your mouth shut.

‘Little while ago, now.’

The Mandalorian stares at you for a while, the beskar of his helmet glinting in the low light from your bedside. You shift from foot to foot, heart beating so hard in your chest you can feel it in your arms. Leave, you chant in your head. Please leave, please go, please -

‘What happened?’ His tone is so soft that it skips past being condescending. Past the point of what’s a pretty girl like you doing in a place like this and straight to worry, to sadness. Stop. Stop.

‘The usual,’ you say quietly. ‘Not enough money, some hostile competition.’

‘You didn’t have anyone who could help you?’ The question is simple. You know why he’d ask it. Mandalorians have always been big on family, only abandoning them with good reason.

‘No. My parents died when I was young. A man who lived close by took me in. He was a farmer. Taught me all he knew,’ you huff a little laugh. ‘If it weren’t for him, I’d have been a foundling.’ Your heart stutters and you suck in a sharp breath as soon as you say it, eyes shooting to the Mandalorian’s visor. He doesn’t react, doesn’t move an inch. Your skin burns hot, anyway. ‘Sorry.’

‘It’s okay,’ he says. ‘What planet?’

You furrow your brow at him.

‘Lothal.’

He looks away, up at the steel ceiling, piecing it together.

‘Your hostile competition…’ 

‘The Empire.’

A breath rushes through his vocoder, easily heard through the fault in the mechanics.

‘And the farmer?’

‘Got me out in time. He - he didn’t -’ The softening of the hunter’s stance is enough to tell you he understands.

‘I’m sorry.’ He says.

‘It’s okay.’ You murmur. You want to reach out, want to touch him. Want to be held, even against the coldness of his breastplate. People don’t usually ask, don’t care enough. But he has, he does. He curls up in your arms after a particularly intense session. He loves watching you come. He makes you feel safe, like he sees you. 

It makes you feel sick.

The silence is heavy, thick, until you turn your back to him to place the dirtied trousers in the laundry chute. It breaks the spell, and you clear your throat.

‘You should get back to the child,’ you say, strained, facing him again.

The Mandalorian dips his head, once. 

‘Take care.’ He says, voice part-controlled, wrapped over that warmth trying to escape.

‘You too. Be safe.’ The words are soft, quiet as they leave your lips. Mando nods at you once more, still, before stepping out into the corridor, past the droid, back out into the city.

You watch him go, bereft, throat tight. And you can’t work out for the life of you why.

#din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin smut #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you

[decembermidnight]

The sweetest reward

Summary: You take care of the Mandalorian when he comes back after a wearying hunt.

Pairing: Din Djarin x f!reader

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: no plot - just smut, 18+ MDNI, Dom!Din, sub!reader, thigh riding, mutual masturbation, teasing, body worship, cock worship, praise kink, mando'a speaking kink, masculinity kink (I guess?), creampie

GIF by @thefrogdalorian

A/N: The inspiration came from this beautiful gif set made by @thefrogdalorian 💕 I kinda got Ner Mircet'ad vibes while writing this (Din's old armour, the Mando'a dirty talk...) so feel free to check that out too! See the end for Mando'a translations. Reblogs and comments are always appreciated!

Masterlist - Read on Ao3

The Mandalorian is comfortably slouching on the makeshift seat made up of ammo boxes and blankets in the hull of the ship, his legs spread wide, tired after his last hunt.

He's still holding the pulse rifle in his hands after unhooking it from the strap on his back. The mere vision of it sends a spark straight to your core.

Warrior, bounty hunter, beroya.

Strong, brave, fearless.

You could observe him for hours in reverential adoration as he cleans his weapons and armour, but the need for him is too strong and aching.

He tilts his helmet towards you when he acknowledges your presence. You, in turn, greet him with a sweet smile and he immediately lays his rifle down when he sees you after so many days.

You look breathtaking wearing nothing but a thin, silk robe that barely covers you, leaving nothing to imagination. 

As you get close to him, he takes his gloves off. He wants to get lost in you, in the softness of your skin, in your delicate beauty after so many days of nothing but dirty cantinas and ugly mugs.

He doesn't say a word when you stop right in front of him and his hands start caressing your thighs, finally something warm and giving after knowing nothing but blasters and knives for what felt so long.

He loses no time in grabbing you by the waist and making you sit in his lap.

His hands immediately start to wander, caressing your body, making you feel worshiped under his gentle touch.

You stay there, arms wrapped around his broad shoulders as his hands give you goosebumps all over your body, making you hum and claw your fingers in his cape as he's reminded how soft you are and how much he missed holding you in his arms. The smooth fabric of your silk robe feels so precious to his hands, nothing like he's used to.

As his hand trails once again up your thigh, you instinctively spread your legs for him to touch your needy cunt. You get flustered when his hand slides up under your robe and softly caresses your tummy as his thumb slowly, painfully slowly glides down, teasing your lips. He lets out a long and aroused hum when he notices you are not wearing panties.

"P-please" you sigh, incredibly turned on already.

His thumb moves towards your clit and brushes it once, feeling how wet you are for him already. He doesn't go on, though, making you whimper.

"Already so wet for me and I've barely touched you" he chuckles "you missed me, didn't you?" says in a low, husky voice as he draws a few circles on your clit.

"Mmm - yes. Missed you so much. I want you." you mumble in bliss as he gives you pleasure with his expert fingers that know you like no other in the galaxy.

"You gotta earn it, mesh'la. You know that, right?"

“Yes - y-yes, my warrior.” you can barely stutter as you sink in his shoulder.

"Good girl." he praises you as he caresses your face, keeping you there, in his lap, taking all the time in the galaxy to worship your curves while hearing your sweet moans and looking at your aroused expression. Your eyes cross and roll as his thick fingers alternate drawing circles on your clit and thrusting inside of you. He can feel by the way you clamp around him and the way you breathe how much your body wants him, but he doesn't want you to get anywhere close to an orgasm, not yet, he wants to give you pleasure and to build it slowly, to get you nice and ready for when he can no longer contain himself.

"Ride my thigh like the needy thing that you are, show me how much you want it." 

You immediately comply and straddle his thigh. Your body slightly jerks at the contact of the cold plate with your heated core - a detail that he does not miss, tilting his helmet slightly as you adjust yourself.

"Good girl. Like this." he encourages you as you begin to roll your hips and give yourself pleasure using his beskar armour. There's something about coating his precious Mandalorian armour in your arousal, using it for such a depraved, sacrilegious purpose that makes you feel even more eager and turned on.

"I want you, ner beroya. Please, let me ride you. I'm gonna take really good care of you." you pant in between heady moans, your eyes half closed as your swollen, needy clit rubs against the embossment of the plate.

"Yeah? You will?" he passes his thumb on your lips.

You nod mindlessly, smiling as you keep riding his thigh plate, pleasure slowly building up and making your whole body tremble with lust. You softly bite his finger as you let out heady groans that make him throb in his pants in anticipation. The sinful way your stiff nipples peek out from your skimpy robe is making it hard for him to resist.

"Then come here and show me." he grabs you by the waist and pulls you towards his body, making you straddle him. You feel hot and flustered and let out a gasp at that sudden movement, at him manhandling you as if you were weightless.

"Go on." he tilts his helmet to the side, his gaze locked on you.

As you start unzipping his pants, his hands unfasten the thin robe tie and you can hear him choking a grunt when the fabric parts and shows him your naked body underneath. His hand trails your inner thigh, making you gasp and gulp until his thumb reaches your clit. Your head rolls back and you let out a loud moan when he does that.

"Hey. Don't stop." he says in a cold, firm voice, as opposed to the throbbing, rock hard erection still trapped in his pants.

"S-sorry, ner beroya." you drawl in a moan as you resume your movements.

Once you free his cock, you start stroking it delicately, barely brushing it with your fingers. It twitches uncontrollably when he feels the delicate touch of your hand. It's painfully hard and veiny, hot in your hand and so sensitive as he didn't dare touching himself while he was away, saving all of his load for you. He stifles a whimper, the sound of it barely picked up by the modulator as he tries to keep his cool and appear impassive while never stopping touching your clit.

You try to lift your hips to go sit on his cock but the firm grip of his hands around your waist keeps you there.

"Please. Please, I want you inside me. Please, my warrior, let me ride you." you plead desperately.

He lets out an aroused hum and you feel his cock throbbing in your hand. He surely loves to hear you beg for him.

"Ner kotyc verd, I'm gonna take really good care of you" you say in a husky voice as you spread a drop of precum across his tip with your thumb, making him choke a grunt as you feel yourself getting wetter and wetter "I'll be so, so good to you. Ni lidiba gar." your voice is so seductive as you say it. The way you're teasing his cock as you plead for him in his native language is driving him insane, making him rabid like a beast. He has to have you, now.

"Dank Farrik. K'olar. I want to fuck you." he rasps in a broken voice, impatient to bury himself inside of you, bringing you right over his dick and undressing you, letting your robe fall on the floor.

You slowly sink down on his cock and you both let out a long, satisfied moan when you feel it pleasurably stretching your tight, needy walls with his thick girth.

You start to ride it slowly and smoothly, letting his already drenched cock slip out almost completely, leaving just the tip inside of you before welcoming it back in. You move your body sensually, looking so charming and entracing for his pleasure. You grab his hands and place them on your breasts. He follows your lead splendidly, without ever overriding you, trusting you and the gradually increasing rhythm you're setting.

Fuck - it's so perfect. You're so turned on at the idea of being the sweetest reward, the most beautiful thing to come back to, the best part of being a bounty hunter. You want it to be memorable, you want this every single time he comes back. He doesn't often let you ride him, so you want him to understand how pleasurable it can be, as used as he is to take everything he wants the way he wants. You want him to know how delightful it can be to just rest and let you take care of everything. You want him to burst while he looks at you.

His warm, naked hands start to wander all over your body to touch your hips, your waist, your breasts, making you groan and sigh. You hear his low, modulated moans as you feel his cock deliciously gliding in and out of you, entranced at how good it feels to be on top of him after a hunt. He's still dirty and tired but couldn't wait to fuck you. You love smelling his raw masculine scent, the dirt on his clothes and the burnt smell from his guns, all while admiring the sight below you - a deadly Mandalorian in full armour enjoying the way you're taking the stress out of him, enjoying the way you're riding his cock after so many days of lone hunting. He has always been in control, always on top or behind you, completely overwhelmed by the testosterone from the hunt of his bounties, needing your cunt to let it all out, leaving you wrecked, shaking and leaking with his cum afterwards, but this time is different. This time you're in control, and he relishes the way you're taking care of his needs, letting you handle everything.

"Look at you…" he whispers "So beautiful while you ride my cock, damn." he rasps.

"I love it." you sigh mindlessly.

"I see it. Keep - keep going." says, almost imploring you.

The sounds you are making are obscene - your cunt is drenched and dripping with juices and each time you bounce on his dick you can hear it squelching as it sucks it in avidly, clamping around it as if it can never have enough of it. Shit, you're getting dangerously close to your orgasm.

"Hey. You're c-close, I can feel it." he stutters.

"I am. I am, ner beroya."

"Don't come yet. Hold it there for me, mesh'la." his order has the opposite effect, making your cunt spasm even harder around him. A whimper escapes from your lips.

"No. Not yet. You get so tight when you're close. Let me - let me enjoy it."

"M-my warrior - missed you. Missed you so much. Please, let me - l-let come on your cock." you beg him sensually in between moans, overwhelmed by pleasure.

“So, so fucking tight.” he grunts when he hears you plead like that, when he feels your cunt getting tighter, your chest heaving in front of him. His mind gets dizzy at the way you're squeezing around him, bringing him dangerously on the edge, too.

"M-mesh'la, shit, I'm-" he whimpers, the grip of his hands on your waist gets firmer.

"Come inside me, my warrior."

The Mandalorian wouldn't want it to be over so soon, but he can't help it when he sees how much you want it and how you’re begging for him to fill you with his load.

"Mesh'la. Come. N-now." he stutters, trying not to burst inside of you immediately, not before he's satisfied you first.

Hearing him begging for you to come like that draws the orgasm out of you. You completely lose control as you come hard around him, going on riding him as you feel his seed spurting inside of you and dripping down your cunt causing a mess of fluids between your legs and drenching his pants, your voices moaning loudly filling the hull of the Razor Crest for those few seconds of pure, astounding bliss.

You slow down the rhythm as the orgasm fades out and you rest your heated forehead on his beskar helmet, the both of you panting heavily as you hold on tight to each other.

"You… you have been so good, cyar'ika." says in a ragged voice as he starts to rub your clit again, lubricated by both your sleek and his cum. "You deserve another."

His expert thumb circles your swollen, sensitive bundle of nerves in such a perfect way that you feel ready for another immense wave of pleasure, gripping the cape on his shoulders tight in your hands.

"Copaani haa'taylir tug'yc. Ke'dinui ni. Jate, bid mesh'la." he whispers as he drives you over the edge once again, making you uncontrollably scream and tremble, your eyes rolling up as this astounding second orgasm obliterates you. He grunts when he feels how tight you get around his spent, sensitive cock, still hard for you.

You collapse in his arms and he holds you there, your face buried in his neck while he's still inside of you.

Mando’a translations: I have used mandocreator.com as reference

Beroya = bounty hunter

Ner = my/mine

Mesh’la = beautiful

Ner kotyc verd = my strong warrior

Ni lidiba gar = I need you

K’olar = come here

Cyar'ika = darling

Copaani haa'taylir tug'yc. Ke'dinui ni. Jate, bid mesh'la = I want to see it again. Give it to me. Good, so beautiful.

#din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin x female reader #din djarin smut #din djarin x you #din x reader #mandalorian fanfic #mandalorian smut #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x reader #mando x you #mando #the mandolarian #mando x reader #mando smut #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal #mandalorian x you #mandalorian x reader #mando'a #star wars smut #din x you #mandalorian x female reader #oneshot #smut #the mandalorian x reader #din x f!reader

[moonlight-prose]

✧ STILL OF YOUR HAND ✧

a/n: i think this is the only fic i've struggled to title all kinktober. it took me thirty minutes to figure it out, but i can always count on hozier to help me out. so this is messy. honestly it was written in a 4am haze of simply wanting to finish, and i never read it back. so i have no idea if it's okay. but either way enjoy my loves.

day twenty-three - restraints | kinktober 2023

summary: "din was always scared he would hurt you. always tentative to give into your desires of being taken apart roughly, because he was a gentle person when it came to you. his life revolved around violence, yet when it came to this—you—he was anything but that."

word count: 1.9k+

pairing: din djarin x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, restraints, rough sex, p in v sex, din fucks, dirty talk, yet another man who runs his mouth but we love him, dom!din, yearning, no editing cause it was 4am and i lost part of my sanity.

Two weeks ago you’d proposed the offer to him in the middle of sharing a meal. He was in the middle of hunting a bounty; a way to pick up some extra credits while you traveled. The question wasn’t scandalous. At least to your standards it wasn’t. Yet there still lay some apprehension between the two of you about where you boundaries lay. How far you could truly go with one another when it came to sex.

Din was always scared he would hurt you. Always tentative to give into your desires of being taken apart roughly, because he was a gentle person when it came to you. His life revolved around violence, yet when it came to this—you—he was anything but that. And you thrived off it. You loved him and everything he gave you, but the prospect still remained, still continued to flicker in the back of both your minds.

“I want you to cuff me later tonight in bed,” you had said while drinking your caf. While the words came out simple, matter of fact and as if you were discussing the latest news of the galaxy. That’s not how he took them.

Din choked on his spit.

“Cyar'ika?”

You glanced at him over your mug, lips twisting up into a soft smile. “Yes?”

He was silent for a moment, body shifting where he stood and you wondered if he was hard beneath his suit. The question lingered in the air, waiting for a response, but Din was never one to outright tell you things. He was ever the silent man you met on Corellia a year ago. That didn’t seem to change as time went on. You simply learned to read him better.

“Din…”

“You know where the binders are,” he replied at last. His voice was rough through the modulator, body stiff and waiting. It seemed that your request had affected him more than you expected.

With a sharp intake of breath you nodded, slowly walking away from him and towards where he kept his weapons. The doors swung open with a loud creak, echoing in the ship like a fucking blaster bolt being shot off. Or perhaps that’s how you heard it in your head. You didn’t have much time to ponder over it, because there they were. Hanging neatly on the wall. An unassuming thing used on his hunts.

The same binders he had used on fugitives and criminals.

Suddenly the air felt thick with heat in the ship, your mouth dry and eyes dark with lust at the thought of him using them on you. There was always an understanding between you and Din. He liked control. Or at least most of it. Yet you always remained a part of the equation—always there to tell him what you wanted, what worked for you.

With these…you were officially out of the equation.

You felt your heart rate rise, excitement fluttering through your body. Grasping onto the cold metal, you ran your thumb over the slight design on the side. Merely bolts holding pieces of metal together, but the sight alone made your head spin. Digging your teeth into your bottom lip, you turned to head back towards the small cargo area.

Only to ram right into a very broad, very hard Mandalorian. With a soft yelp, you stumbled back, nearly landing into his weapon’s hold if it wasn’t for his hand shooting out to grasp your waist. Dragging him back to his body with a quiet grunt. The binders hung loosely in your hand as he cupped your face, tilting your head up to face his helmet. For a moment you swore you could feel the burn of his eyes on your skin.

“I found them,” you said softly, body humming beneath his touch.

His hand clasped around your wrist, removing the metal from your hold. “Turn around.”

“Am I your bounty Din?” you teased, sliding a hand up his beskar clad chest.

Only for him to whirl you around so quickly you barely had time to gasp in a sharp breath. His hand slammed against the button that shut the weapon’s hold, your body being pressed to the doors within moments. Your eyes fluttered shut, cheek rubbing against the cold metal as he reached for your wrists. The audible sound of the binders locking shut echoing in the small area.

His helmet pressed to the back of your head, a sigh leaving his modulator. “Cyar'ika. Is this…Is this what you want?”

“Yes,” you breathed, pushing yourself back against him—the outline of his cock pressing against your ass. “Maker, yes.”

He groaned, his hips pressing forward and grinding up into your body. “You want to be my bounty?”

“Fuck,” you breathed. The throbbing between your legs was growing by the second. Yet no matter how much you pressed your thighs together, you couldn’t appease it.

“Is that what this is?” His hands grasped at your pants, popping open the button before he tugged them down to your thighs. Dragging your already soaked through panties with them. “Maker you’re fucking soaked.”

His gloved fingers spread you from behind, taking in the sight of you dripping down your inner thighs. You shifted, whining softly as he took his time sliding his fingers through your slick. Coating the leather of his gloves thoroughly. He’d fuck himself with them later. Tasting what remained of you off the fabric, but for now he watched as his fingers found your clit. The sound you made was loud enough to echo off the walls.

“You wanted me to treat you like my bounty?”

You cried out softly, canting back onto his hand. “Yes. Fuck Din I do.”

His other hand reached up, gripping onto your hair and dragging your head back. The cold metal of his helmet pressed against your cheek, your breath no doubt fogging up the sides of it. But all you could focus on was the two fingers sinking into you, dragging along your walls. He growled when you grinded down onto his palm, a weak moan drifting to his ears, causing his cock to twitch.

“Dirty girl,” he groaned. “You need more don’t you?”

You nodded, teeth digging harshly into your lip until you tasted copper. You wanted to kiss him. To taste him, but this was all you would get for now. Later in the darkness of his cabin, he’d indulge in taking his helmet off. He’d kiss you as many times as you wanted.

For now you’d take this with open arms.

“Need me to fuck you.”

“Yes,” you whispered, your thighs trembling as he dragged his fingers out of you quickly. “Oh fuck. Din please—”

The sound of him fumbling with his pants silenced you, dragging a moan from your throat. You nearly crumpled against the wall when his cock slid through your folds, the head of it nudging at your clit. A high pitched whine came from you, hips dragging along the length of him and soaking him in your slick. But Din knew that this couldn’t end so quickly.

He grasped onto your hip, stilling your movements until you were pressed fully against the wall. The cold seeping through your clothes.

“You wanted this cyar'ika.” Lining himself up, he nearly lost it at the way your pussy fluttered around his tip. “Wanted me to fuck you like you’ve been running from me. Needed me to hunt you down.”

The words continued to spill free, unable to be reigned in and it nearly sent you over the edge from that alone. Din filling you in one smooth thrust brought you right there. A sob tore from your throat, knees giving out and if it wasn’t for his hold on your body, you would have hit the floor. He moaned brokenly, hips right against your ass and arm latching around your waist.

“Fucking perfect,” he spit, helmet digging into your shoulder blade. “Always feels so fucking good. Fucking made for me.”

“Din!” you mewled, hips canting back to get him to move and with a deep breath he finally gave in to your request.

The pace was ruthless. Quick and deep, each thrust shoving sounds you’d never made before from your chest. It was the opposite of every soft touch he’d given you. The bruising grip on your hip sent pain flickering through you, igniting the pleasure like a match to a flame. You felt your chest swell, head going hazy with the bliss that quickly filled you. And it just kept going.

He fucked you hard. Grinding his hips up with each forceful thrust, until he heard it. The squelch of your slick echoing in the space. The audible slap of his balls against your clit mixing with it. He felt his body fry—the strings that usually kept his sanity together now fraying to their breaking point.

“Can you feel me?” he asked, sliding a hand around to your pelvis, pressing down right above your mound and as if you were electrified, pleasure rocketed up your spine. “I’m so fucking deep inside of you.”

“Oh—fuck—”

Tugging your head back to his shoulder, he placed his slick covered fingers at your lips. “Suck.”

And you did without question. You took his fingers with a happy hum, sucking them into your mouth as if they were his cock. Your taste burst across your tongue, heady and tangy. He groaned deep and guttural as his body began to grow taut, balls drawing up painfully, but if there’s one thing you understood about Din…you always came first.

In everything.

Ripping his fingers from your mouth and gasping at the string of saliva that connected him to you, he dropped them down your body. Sliding them along your clit with ease. A sob was wrenched from you, fingers digging down on his arm as he rammed into you with quick stunted thrusts. Shoving you towards the very edge.

One pinch of your clit between his fingers and a deep grind of his hips sent you flying. A cry of his name hitting his ears as you clamped down around his cock, soaking him as your body writhed in his hold.

“Fuck yes,” he hissed.

Grinding up into you, he felt the white hot burn of his release rush through his body. He cried out against your shoulder, pressing his body against you completely. You were shoved up against the wall with nowhere to go, but you had never felt so safe. So content to remain right where you were. He came down with a sharp gasp, the last of his cum spilling into you, sending a warmth through your body that elicited a soft moan from your lips.

“You never answered me,” you slurred, body lax against the wall.

He huffed, hands sliding along your hips—soothing the places he’d held you too hard. “No.”

“No?”

“Don’t pout,” he replied, pulling from you with a rough breath.

You grinned, letting him collect you in his arms. “‘M not pouting. Just thought you wanted me to be your bounty.”

“You’re more than that,” he murmured, hand pressing against your stomach gently. “You always have been.”

Giggling, you felt the high of your orgasm begin to fade slightly, bringing you back to reality. “You say that as if I wasn’t your bounty once.”

“Cyar'ika.” The warning was clear in his voice, tingeing with something you never touched on, but the box had been opened.

You simply turned slowly in his hold and placed a kiss on his chest. “Have I mentioned how glad I am that you never took me in?”

He muttered under his breath, but still held you close. You’d have to ask him about it later, but for now you let it go. Accepting his soft response of me too as a final answer to something bigger.

#din djarin x f!reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x y/n #din djarin smut #din djarin #the mandalorian fic #my writing #kinktober 2023 #pedrostories

[oliviajdjarin]

Din Djarin: Bright and Shiny

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!reader (she/her)

Excerpt: “Do you like It?” he whispered, and you swore you were dreaming. You had pictured him like this so many times—so many times—but it was real. This was fucking real and you were fucking on fire.”

“Yes,” you said, breathily. “I do.”

You were locked on his helmet so badly that you didn’t see his right hand creeping up to frame your face with it. Holding your cheeks between his thumb and the rest of his fingers, forcing you to focus on his face.

“What do you like about it?”

Warnings: smut smut smut and more smut (me writing a dom man?), with softness at the end. The Crest is aliveee. Grogu isn’t here yet.

A/N: Happy Dincember everyone, aka my absolute favorite tumblr tradition. To all the authors updating prompts every day…are you Gods?

If you’d like to leave a like, comment, ask, or reblog, it would be very appreciated <3

Pedro Masterlist

There was no bigger hypocrite in the galaxy than the infamous Mandalorian.

Blood-crusted beskar coated the majority of his body every time he placed his feet on solid ground—every time— in addition to the metaphorical armor that was his demeanor. Solid, unbreakable, stern, terrifying.

It was not until you had spent a few months as his “partner” at the Guild, thus living together on his quickly crumbling Razor Crest, that you were met with his true doctrine of hypocrisy.

It was as if every time he elected to remove a piece of his armor for you, he knocked down one of his walls. First was the night he removed the small shoulder and shin pieces, the same night he elected to crack his first joke. Next was the dark-browned chest, sharing with you that he was a foundling in his Covert. Then the belt, covered in more weapons and weight than you had ever seen, and he told the story of his first kill. Then the wrists, along with the story of his toughest kill. The one that haunted him as he attempted to fall asleep at night. Then his gloves, with the story of the first woman he had ever fell in love with.

“You remind me of her,” he had said to you, “except you have actually stayed.” He had said the last part quickly before immediately exiting the pit to hide in his “room” for a few hours.

You remained in your copilot seat, staring off into the stars of hyperspace, unable to think at all.

Slowly—very slowly— the Mandalorian had revealed more and more of his true self to you. The one who would sneakily hum around the Crest, make sure to turn your heated blanket on early on cold nights, and always—always—avoid spiced food like the plague.

“It upsets my stomach,” he had defended, and you scoffed in return.

After such long travel-times on jobs, you would get so used to the softness of his true personality that when he would have to put his armor back on—literally and figuratively— you almost felt like you were looking and speaking to a different person.

The heat in your lower stomach felt that way too.

It flared when he was soft, but the switch from the man you knew to the Mandalorian always reminded you both of when you first met him and what he was truly capable of.

Plus, seeing the width of his shoulders accentuated by the most expensive and impenetrable metal known to man was not bad either.

You had been sitting at the usual meeting spot with Greef, ready to discuss the dozen pucks already sitting in front of you. You were still due for a new job after the boat-load of beskar given to you for the little green baby— which definitely was not still on your conscious— and Mando was running a bit late due to the crafting of his new armor. You waited anxiously to see the results.

“I have never held this much in my own hands before,” he had said to you, and you beamed up at him as he spoke. “This will likely be enough for an entirely new set.”

You had no idea how right he was.

You sat at the booth with Greef, making pleasant enough conversation, but mostly daydreaming of what Mando was seeing, feeling, touching. The pleasure to watch his own armor be crafted by hand, you could not even imagine what that would be like.

You took a sip of your drink—one that Greef had been so gracious to buy for you—and let it burn as you set it down on the sticky wooden table. As soon as the glass touched the wood, the entire cantina silenced, and all eyes went to the entrance. Your eyes followed the crowd’s, unable to see for certain what everyone was looking at.

It only took a few seconds for you to realize that the “what” was actually a “who,” and that “who” was the kindest man you had ever known wrapped in wealth, power, and impenetrability.

It was a good thing you had set your drink down, because it would have dropped to the floor, shattering into millions of pieces, because he was the sexist thing you had ever laid your eyes on.

This was the Mandalorian.

You thought his previous armor was intimidating—small shoulder pieces, a wide chest piece, and even wider thigh pieces. He was both a distraction to you and a threat to everyone else in that armor.

But now, now he fully covered, head to toe, in shimmering silver. His waist the tiniest you had seen it, with his shoulders as wide as they had ever looked. Almost the entirety of his legs were covered now, and even his helmet gleamed and glistened in the light. He walked straighter, stood taller, and stepped slower. Like he was enjoying this.

He had never looked more lethal, and with all of the eyes on him, his own were on you.

You stared back at him as he made his way, mouth slightly parted, and legs squeezing tighter and tighter together with each step he took. The typical slight steam in your stomach at the sight of him was now boiling hot, running through the blood in your body faster than you could process. The lack of blood flow to your brain caused it to wipe itself clean and focus solely on the warrior in front of you. Your hands began to shake and your mouth parched.

You were speechless. A deadly bounty hunter stunned speechless.

He said nothing as he scooched his way into the booth, and you remained looking at him even when his body was turned towards Greef.

“I want my next job,” he said.

Greef said something, something witty, but you didn’t hear it. Couldn’t hear it.

“I want my next job,” Mando repeated. Amban rifle in his lap, leaning slightly forward.

Holy fuck the heat in you.

He grabbed a puck and began walking out, turning back to signal you to follow. You stood slowly, thanked Greef, and exited the Cantina, eyes locked on the expanse of his back the entire walk to the Crest.

~*~

It wasn’t two seconds after Mando put the security lock on the Crest that he had you cornered with his words.

“Is something the matter?” he asked, taking a step closer to you. You were both in the cock pit, ready to take off, and you were standing in front of the controls.

“No,” you said, meeting his gaze as fiercely as you could. Your hands were glued to your sides and your fists squeezed so hard they stung.

“Okay,” he said, so fucking softly it hurt you. He was still making his way closer to you, forcing you to look up.

“Okay,” you responded, and you thought that was it. He would back off.

But your fucking eyes betrayed you, darting down to the expanse of his body, and he laughed.

“Do you like It?” he whispered, and you swore you were dreaming. You had pictured him like this so many times—so many times—but it was real. This was fucking real and you were fucking on fire.

“Yes,” you said, breathily. “I do.”

You were locked on his helmet so badly that you didn’t see his right hand creeping up to frame your face with it. Holding your cheeks between his thumb and the rest of his fingers, forcing you to focus on his face.

“What do you like about it?”

You could barely breathe enough to respond. Your throat instantly dried, and every word of any language was lifted from you.

“I—I like—” you started, swallowing “—I like the chest.”

“The chest,” he said, bringing your hand up to the cold metal. “What about it?”

You traced your fingers down it, still forced to look up at him by his leather glove. “I like how wide it makes you. How powerful.”

He stood there in silence before asking, “what else?”

“The legs,” you whispered. “I really like the legs.”

He nearly growled. “Why Y/N? Tell me.”

Your name on his lips at this stage of the game was too much.

“It makes them look big. Strong,” you said, heart in your throat. “I like that.”

He softened his grip on your face and moved his hand to the back of your neck. “I know you do.” He then tapped twice on his helmet. “Heat signature.”

Your face fell and paled.

How long had he—

“I’ve known since the first day I met you,” he said, massaging your neck. “Just never knew how to bring it up.”

“Why now?” you whispered, voice deep from the pleasure of his fingers.

“Because this is the strongest it’s ever been for you,” he replied. “And for me. Seeing you watching me like that…”

He brought his hand back to frame your face.

“…I’ve never wanted anything more in my life than you in that moment.”

He started pulling you forward by your face.

“And now i have you, don’t I?”

Yes he did, so much of you, parts of you you didn’t even know about before him.

“Yes.”

He let go of you and sat in the pilot’s seat, spreading his legs.

“So ruin me, Y/N. Ruin this bright and shiny armor.”

You practically jumped on him.

You immediately mounted him, wrapping your hands around his shoulders, and felt all around the metal. Your breaths fogged up his helmet as you did, practically moaning at the chance to finally feel the expanse of his body. He kept his hands firmly on your hips, watching your face as you panted and whined in his.

After a few moments he picked you up and sat you on his right thigh.

“Go on.”

You immediately rolled your hips, fully moaning at the feeling, and rolled them faster and faster and deeper and deeper.

Your head began tipping back as the metal ground against your clit perfectly, but Mando pulled your face forward to rest your forehead on his.

“Mando—”

“It’s Din,” he said firmly, squeezing your hips enough to bruise. “Say it.”

You rolled your hips over and over, desperation dripping off your voice. “Din.”

It was then that he released a moan, ripped your pants and underwear off of you, and took control of your hips on his thigh. He placed you down just right and tears coated your eyes, sweat poured from your pours, and with one inch of incline from his leg, you shattered.

Your forehead fell against his, panting and whining “Din” over and over again as he kept you moving on him through your orgasm. You felt yourself drip down onto the floor and run down his legs, and your eyes rolled at the thought.

You held onto the fabric around his neck for dear life, gathering as much breath as you could, and Din just let you.

It was then that he started to feel you up.

He moved from your hips to your bare thighs, back up to your clothed breasts, then to your face to brush back your hair, and finally back down to your thighs. He gathered your drip from his thigh onto his leather glove. He brought it underneath his helmet, and your mouth dropped open.

He sucked it slowly, not making any noise except a slight groan. “I knew I was right.”

You swallowed, still panting in both exhaustion and shock. “Right?”

“I knew every part of you was perfect.”

Your eyes fluttered closed, and you smiled nice and wide. You had a feeling he was smiling too.

It was this sense of elation and euphoria that gave you the freedom not to think before sliding your hand over his hardened bulge and raising your eyebrows in question.

He chuckled, which somehow melted you more than anything he had done previously.

“Not right now,” he said sweetly, and pulled you into his chest. You cozied up into him before he slowly lifted you, allowing you to wrap your legs around his waist. “I don’t think I’d last two seconds.”

You smiled, humming. “Okay Din.”

His body tensed a bit when you said that, and you wondered if you crossed some sort of boundary, but he continued on his way to his bed. He set you in It, wrapping you in his sheets, and grabbing a towel to clean you off. You got a good show of yourself stained and running all over his thigh and nearly jumped on him again.

“Like I said,” he countered, likely picking up on the change in your temperature, “I wouldn’t last two seconds.”

You nodded with a smile and he took the towel to the laundry room before returning to you, sitting on the side of the bed.

“Get some rest,” he said. “We have a job to do in the morning.”

He stood, making his way back to the cockpit, but you called out to him.

“Mando, wait,” you said, and he froze before slowly turning back around. “Are we okay? Was that…okay?”

He paused, leaning himself into the doorway, sighing as always, and said, “Y/N, I wouldn’t trade the world for the last hour I’ve had with you.”

You enjoyed this forward, talkative Din much more than you anticipated to.

“And call me Din,” he said. “Please.”

He then left you, starting up the Crest to make its way to hyperspace, and you drifted slowly into sleep, still on a high. You finally fell asleep to the feeling of a warm body wrapping itself around you, and a deep voice whispering in your ear, “We’re okay, Y/N. We’re okay.”

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