#din djarin one shots

[kaminokatieemoved]

Hi lovely! Could I possibly request something for Din Djarin? Reader rides his helmet and he needs her bad so he blindfolds her so he can take it off and have his way with her? Thank you😭👉👈

Blindfolded || Din Djarin

Synopsis - You admit to Din that you want to ride his helmet and he agrees.

Warnings - NSFW. Dry-Humping. Teasing. Helmet riding. Face riding. Unprotected P In V Sex. Squirting. Cock Warming.

Fancy Buying Me A Coffee?

You sat on Din's left thigh, bucking your hips up against his clothed leg in an attempt to gain some friction. You were completely naked but Din was fully clothed. "That's a good girl," his modulated voice came, your hips quickening their pace. "Kriff. I want you so bad," he mused to himself, hands ghosting over your bare breasts and playing with the stiff peaks of your nipples.

"Not just yet," you whimpered, rolling your hips again, slick covering his trousers. "I want to try something."

"Oh yeah?" Din asked. "What do you want to try princess?"

Your voice was low when you spoke, almost silent as the embarrassing words fell from your lips. "I want to ride your helmet."

Din licked his lips as he thought about the scenario, watching as you got off on his thigh. Din felt his cock stringing against his codpiece and although he desperately wanted to be inside of you, who was he to deny you when you admitted your desires so nicely?

"Do you really want that?" He asked, hands now gripping at your hips. You nodded to him, almost shyly. Din smiled to himself, nodding back to you. "Come on then princess, get up here."

You obliged, crawling over to Din slowly before planting yourself firmly onto his helmet. The cool beskar against your skin made you jolt slight, folds slicking against his helmet as you found a rhythm and adjusted to the coolness of the metal. Din let out a groan of approval as he looked up at you through his mandalorian attire, admiring the way you began to buck your hips against him. You used your hands to keep yourself steady as you rolled your hips almost expertly against his helmet. "Oh Din," you whimpered, clit pressing against the cool ridges.

"That's it baby, ride my helmet," Din said shakily. His hands flew up to your hips, grasping at the plump skin around your hips and helping you with your rhythm.

"Feel so good," you whispered, removing your hands from their original position and placing them on your breasts, cupping them gently as you rolled your hips.

"You look delicious baby," Din whispered. He was sweating underneath his helmet as he watched the way your folds parted with each languid movement you did. "I want to taste you."

"I want you to taste me," you whined as you played with your breasts.

Din paused for a moment before speaking up. "How about I blindfold you?"

Silence.

You thought about it as you rolled your hips. The pleasure you were feeling from riding his helmet was good, but it wasn't getting you to orgasm. You squeezed your breasts and threw your head back moaning a 'yes' in agreement to Din's suggestion. "Come on then princess," his modulated voice snapping you out of your daze. "Let me get a taste of your sweet cunt."

"Okay," you mewled, sliding off his helmet and back onto the makeshift bed on the razor crest.

You watched as Din sat up, looking around in search of something to use as a blindfold. He paused for a moment before jumping off the bed and huddling in the corner of the crest, ripping off a strip of fabric from one of Grogu's blankets. "I'll buy him a new one," Din whispered to you when you audibly gasped at his actions. "Now, be a good girl and keep this blindfold on, okay?"

"Okay," you whispered breathlessly.

Within seconds, the fabric was placed around your eyes and Din was tying it tightly to secure it. "Is that alright?" He asked lowly. You didn't respond with words, but instead nodded to let him know that it was okay for you. There was more silence as you waited for Din to say or do something, but when you heard the clicking noise of his helmet, you knew he was taking it off. "You look so delicious, my princess," his unmodulated voice came. You immediately clenched your thighs at the sound of his voice, the lack of his helmet making him sound more beautiful than ever before. "Open your legs for me," he cooed, grasping your thighs and pulling them apart widely. You gasped as the cool air hit your core, causing you to shiver.

"Din," you whimpered, bucking your hips up.

"I know, princess, I know," he whispered, before plunging his face into your cunt. He started with long, slow licks up your folds, moaning into you upon his first taste. He circled your clit with his tongue and you let out a soft moan, one he had never heard emerge from your lips before. As a result he continued his motions, paying close attention to the bundle of nerves between your legs. Your legs tightened around his face and his beard brushed up against your inner thighs. "You taste so good," he moaned against you.

"Don't say that," you whispered, face red from embarrassment.

"You do though my love," Din smirked as he licked a long stripe up your folds, forcing you to shiver. "Could stay here all day."

"Then - ah - do," you whimpered.

"I would but," Din smiled, circling your clit once more. "I need to be inside of you."

"If you keep licking me like that, I'm gonna cum!" You cried out, hands finding their way to Din's hair, tugging lightly.

"That's it princess, cum for me," Din commanded. With a few more flicks of his tongue, you were cumming. Legs spasming as you came on his face. Din licked up your arousal, tongue teasing your clit one last time before he pulled away. "Such a good girl for me."

"Din," you mewled, arching your back as you heard him remove parts of his armour.

It didn't take long before he was on top of you, lining himself up with your entrance. "My sweet girl," he mumbled, peppering your temple with kisses. In one swift motion, he inserted himself inside of you. You let out a loud moan as Din buried himself into your cunt, giving you a moment to adjust to his length before he began his movements.

"Oh kriff," you moaned out, head lolling back onto the bed and arms wrapping around his neck. Despite your blindfold, you still squeezed your eyes shut as Din continued his rough movements. Your cunt squeezed around him, begging for more, and more he gave you. His movements became ragged as he pushed himself fully out of you and forced himself back in. His cock spreading your walls, inviting his cock further into your sopping hole. You let out a moan as he pounded into you at a brutal pace, your back arching.

"Let go for me princess," Din whispered into your ear, his beard tickling you slightly. "I want to feel you come undone on my cock."

"Din," you whined, bucking your hips up against his. One of your arms fell from around Din's neck and circled your clit, pushing you to the brink of another orgasm. You cried out as you came, hard, on Din's cock and all over his stomach.

"Did you just-?" Din asked breathlessly, halting his movements to look at both his stomach and cock covered in your juices.

You lowered your head in shame and nodded. "I'm sorry-"

"Don't be," he smirked as he continued thrusting his hips, harsher now. "It was hot."

"It was?" You squeaked, voice slightly high pitched out of embarrassment.

"Oh baby do you feel how hard you make me?" Din growled.

He retracted his cock from your cunt before roughly flipping you over, pushing your head into the make-shift pillows of his make-shift bed before sliding himself back into you. You arched your back just right and you felt Din's cock hit that sweet spot repeatedly. Over and over and over again. "Maker, Din!" You cried out, your hands grasping the thin fabric below you in an attempt to ground yourself. Din rocked his hips furiously into yours, the sound of skin-slapping-skin filled the razor crest. "If you keep going, I'm going to cum again!"

"Again?" Din teased, kissing your bare back. You nodded profoundly and Din kept up his harsh motions, bringing you close to your third and final orgasm of the night.

"I'm going to cum too princess," he breathed out. "Cum with me princess, cum with me. Please," he begged. You nodded and rocked your hips back against his own, bouncing on his cock as he drilled into you. With just a few more thrusts and bounces you were both cumming, profanities and Mando'a slipping past both of your lips. Din grunted your name and pumped himself deep into you a few more times before he slowed his motions to a halt.

"Fuck," you panted, both of you flopping onto your side. You wiped the minuet beads of sweat from your forehead.

"Fuck indeed," Din whispered. With his cock still inside of you, Din manoeuvred himself round to where his helmet rested on the nightstand and placed it on with a simple click before he removed the blindfold from your eyes. You squinted as your eyes adjusted to the low light of the razor crest and sighed when you realised he had placed his helmet back on. You yearned to see his face, but you knew that it was not the way.

"Do you want to use the fresher?" You asked. Din shook his head at your question. "Can I use the fresher?" You asked. Din shook his head again. "Are you going to pull your cock out?" Again.

You shrugged and settled down next to him. It was then you realised Din had only taken off his codpiece and pulled his cock out of his pants as opposed to removing any item of clothing. As the coolness of his beskar chest plate rested against your bare back, you pulled the thin fabric over your bodies and closed your eyes. "Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum," you heard his modulated voice whisper.

"Huh?" You asked sleepily, opening your eyes and turning your head to the side to face him.

"It means I love you," Din replied.

"I love you too, Din Djarin," you smiled.

It was then that you both fell asleep, still conjoined. With Din's arms wrapped around you, you felt safe. As safe as you'd ever felt. You hoped that you'd be able to do that again; ride his helmet and be blindfolded, but that was a conversation for another day. Now, it was time to rest.

Written for my amazing friend @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite <3 I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Not proof-read, so apologies for any SPAG mistakes ;'(

Requests are OPEN. Please specify whether you'd like SFW or NSFW when requesting. If you put a request in, please be patient as I am really struggling right now.

If you'd like to support me and my work, feel free to donate to me on ko-fi HERE. Any donations will go towards bills and wedding funds, so any help is greatly appreciated.

[dracowars]

Could you do a din djarin x former inquisitor reader? Maybe he finds out when they are saving Grogu from Moff Gideon in season two. I think Din, Bo-Katan, etc reactions would be so interesting!

forgive me | din djarin

pairing: din x formerinquisitor!reader

word count: 2,6k

summary: where din finds out about y/n's past

a/n: this was incredibly fun to write, i love the inquisitor lore so much!! thank you so much for requesting, i hope you enjoy <3 please don't forget to give feedback and reblog, it means the world to me ♡♡♡

warnings: angst, cursing, violence, mentions of torture, mentions of death

universe: star wars

"I asked you a question", Din says through gritted teeth, clearly not impressed by the warloard as he points his blaster directy at the man laying on the ground in front of him. After you have successfully taken over Moff Gideon's light cruiser with your newly found team, you were finally met with that inkling of hope that was lost for so long. You were sure that, this time, you won. Except you didn't.

"Call back your darktroopers or I won't hesitate to pull the trigger!", you shout at Gideon, almost pitying his slumped figure on the cold surface. The once great Moff Gideon, holder of the darksaber, military leader in charge of the remnents of the Galactic Empire, huddled on the floor, right to your feet. You would almost believe he is scared, almost, if it were not for the slight twitch pulling at the corner of his mouth. Because despite of him being defenseless, vulnerable and alone, he somehow still managed to pull one last ace up his sleeve and take you by surprise. The surprise that is currently waiting to charge through the blast doors, the last layer of protection that saves you from your fate.

"Everyone in this room will be dead but me. And the child", Gideon says with a sparkle in his eyes, trying to find a comfortable position with his hands cuffed.

"I will ask you. One. Last. Time. What do you need Grogu for?", Din interjects, ignoring his threat as he keeps his blaster pointed at him. Even though you can't see his face through his helmet, it is clear that this time he expects an honest answer or he will definitely not hold back. He has grown too fond of Grogu to not get to know why Gideon wants to capture him so badly or what he did to the small child.

And while Din waits for him to think of an answer that won't have him blast his head off, Gideon's eyes lock with yours and it is in that moment that you feel a shift, seeing a change in his face that you can't quite interpret. The answer he gives is not what you expected at all.

"Maybe you should ask your friend here, not me."

Immediately, you take a wavering step back, lowering your blaster while Din slowly turns to look in your direction, his whole posture screaming at you to explain what tiny piece of information Moff Gideon just dropped your way. "What?"

Bo-Katan, Koska and Fennec, all aiming their own blasters at the door, shift their attention to you now as well, ignoring the loud noises created by the darktroopers trying to come through. You can only stare at Gideon, however, and if he wasn't your only way to get out of here alive, you would have put an end to this already. The knowing grin on his face frightens you because it tells you he knows everything. About what you did, about your past, and, above all, about the darkness hovering over it.

"What does he mean by that, Y/N?", Din wants to know, a twist audible in his voice as well now. He does not trust you right now and if you were in his spot, you wouldn't trust yourself either. You have been on this journey together for a long time already, your only interest being the safety of the child, and yet you managed to keep your biggest secret hidden from him. There are things he doesn't need to and simply shouldn't know about you.

"Y/N is very well acquainted with what I did. I would even go as far as to say that we were once considered allies", Gideon answers for you as you can't come up with any rational explanation, too occupied by what is going on in your mind.

"That's not true! Don't- Don't listen to him. I was never on your side, Gideon", you immediately interrupt as you comprehend his accusation, turning to Din who does not know what or whom to believe anymore. His partner, who lied to him since day one, or his enemy, who just revealed the secret that has been haunting you since forever.

"Tell them the truth then, Twelfth Sister."

As soon as the words leave Gideon's mouth, Bo-Katan suddenly points one of her blasters directly at you, no hesitation in her movement at all. However, you can't even concentrate on the deadly weapon aimed at you as you feel like the ground beneath your feet opens up, causing you to fall into the deep depths full of sorrow, darkness and pain that you ran away from for so long. And the fact that Grogu, sitting at one of the consoles next to you, coos at all of this, does not make it any better.

Silence fills the room as everyone slowly but surely comprehends the meaning behind Moff Gideon's words. What he called you, Twelfth Sister, is a title you have not been addressed by in a long, long time and you desperately wish it stayed that way.

"Shut up! Shut up, shut up, shut up!", you scream at Gideon, your heart beating so fast it hurts. With trembling hands and legs you take a step closer to him, wanting him to not say another word ever again but as soon as you move from your spot, you are faced with another blaster barrel.

However this time it is Din who points his weapon right at you, stopping you dead in your tracks as you feel like you can't get enough air to breathe. The realization has hit him after all.

"N-No! Please, you need to listen to me! I-"

"You are an Inquisitor?", Din asks, not a single hint in his voice as to how he feels, how disappointed he has to be in you. On the one hand, you want him to scream at you, shout at you for keeping this from him, but on the other hand you want him to be able to forgive you, even though you know that what you did is inexcusable.

Since you have no clue how to put everything you want to say in words at once, you only manage to nod, lowering your head as you feel ashamed of yourself. You are waiting for the shot to hit you and when it doesn't, you look up at Din who has not moved.

"Why?", is all he says, staring at you through his helmet. You swear you feel your heart breaking at how he pronounces this one seemingly harmless word.

"I- I don't know. I didn't want all of this to happen. The one second I fight alongside an army of clones, the next I kill all of them and mourn over my dead master", you explain, the memories tormenting you. "They took me. They took me and tortured me until there was nothing left of who I was or what I fought for. They broke me."

You spit out the last part, feeling the anger spark inside of you. Closing your eyes, you feel the panic chase off the anger as you can physically feel the pain they sent you through once more. You sink to your knees, supporting yourself with your hands on the ground, tears in your eyes. They will always have control over you.

"Inquisitors chased down and killed all of the remaining Jedi. You abducted force-sensitive children!", Bo-Katan reminds you of your all-too-real deeds and you can't help but feel bile rise up your throat, making you cough.

"I did.. bad things and each time, it killed me a little more. But when they wanted me to kidnap a child, I didn't. It was then that I noticed it wasn't my way", you say quietly, trying to stand up for yourself about the only thing you did right and that you can be proud of. Because you disobeyed. Because you turned your back on them. Because you left.

"I can't believe you", Din mutters, his voice sounding coarse.

"I promise you it's not who I am anymore!", you try to convince him, all of them actually, but you know it is to no use. Which does not mean you won't try to change their view because, at last, you were a victim too. "Why do you think I am here? Because I made it my task, my purpose, to protect these children! I don't want anyone to experience what I had to. I even killed one of my so-called sisters! I turned against them."

Breathing heavily, you need a few seconds to cope with your emotional outburst, letting your words sink into their heads while you are trying to hold back the tears that threaten to spill. But you don't let them because you have shown weakness too many times before. After all, the dark side was only able to overpower you back then because it caught you at your weakest moment, using it to its advantage, turning your despair into pure hatred.

"Please, you have to believe me", you breathe out, your voice breaking in the end as you stare at Din and Din only. You don't care what the others think, you don't care if they will ever forgive you as long as Din does. You get lost in the darkness of his visor as you keep staring at him intently, waiting for any kind of reaction but he just won't budge.

Because you can only see him in this moment what you do notice, however, is how Moff Gideon pulls a blaster out of nowhere, points it at Din and fires a shot without hesitation. Suddenly, you feel transported back to that one fateful day when you lost everything. When your clones, your friends, turned against you. When you lost the only person you ever really cared for.

All intent on not letting fate repeat itself, you reach for the Force and feel the familiar tingle in your fingertips. Within seconds, you stop the deadly projectile mid-air. And even though it takes all your effort and concentration, you still somehow manage to use the Force to push Din out of the line of fire, causing him to slitter his feet across the floor.

It feels like time is slowing down as you slowly walk towards Gideon and, as soon as he fires another shot at you, you parry it with the Darksaber in your hand. Shock and terror are written all over his face before you finally reach him, kick the blaster out of his hands and put the deadly blade to his throat.

"I will not let you hurt the people I love", you spit out, looking directly into his panic-filled eyes. Apparently he did not expect you to still be this powerful after all these years of not using the Force at all and, although you have to admit that you could have blocked thousands of those shots back then when it took all of your strength to defend one now, you felt good. The Force, the light side, came back to you as if it was never gone. Considering that you were still a child yourself when Order 66 happened, never completing your Jedi training, your powers have grown exponentially.

"You don't deserve to be kept alive-"

"Y/N-", Din wants to interrupt, but you continue anyway.

"But I have changed. I am no Inquisitor, I am a Jedi", you say, feeling relief as the final truth leaves your mouth, making it finally seem real. "You will face trial and you will be locked away for life so you will never be able to hurt anyone again."

"You forget that you are still on my ship, with my troopers waiting to kill all-"

"And you will kindly call them back and shut them down right now or..", you threaten, looking at the Darksaber that is terribly close to his throat. You don't show that it actually lays extremely heavy in your hands, not only because it is a unique weapon, but also because it is not yours. Your own lightsaber is buried on Felucia, where no one will ever find it.

Gideon huffs in annoyance but considering that you are only millimeters away from slicing the Darksaber through his throat, he finally gives in and follows your command. The sound of the dangerous killing machines switching off outside the blast doors echoes throughout the bridge and as soon as you are certain that all of them are down, you knock Gideon out with the butt of the lightsaber hilt, sending him to the floor unconsciously.

As soon as he hits the ground, your legs give in underneath you and you slump in, letting the blade dissolve before tossing the weapon as far away from you as you possibly can. Tears stream down your face as all the burden you carried around all those years finally falls off you, allowing you to breathe once more. You know they are all watching you as you feel all their eyes on you but no one dares to say a single word.

That is, until Grogu peeps out from where he was hiding, slowly waddling towards you while cooing. You can't help but smile at him and you feel incredibly grateful that at least one of them has not lost faith in you.

"Grogu", Din calls out strictly as he wants to come even closer to you.

"It's fine. I would never hurt him", you promise and don't even dare to look in his direction, concentrating to look at Grogu's big doe eyes only. That is why you don't see how Din silently gives the others commands and they start shuffling behind you, opening the doors to the disabled droids in order to destroy them one by one.

Din's shadow hovers over you as you wrap your arms around your own waist, not looking at him, too scared of what he might say. One of Grogu's small hands touches your knee as he keeps cooing at you and you can sense that he feels sorry for you. He knows the pain of being seperated from the family you once considered your home.

Hearing a rustling, you hold your breath as Din squats down in front of you, taking Grogu in his arms as if to protect him. If this is the last time you see him, you tell yourself, you at least want to look at him one more time and so you do.

And you feel like you can't breathe when you see him holding out his hand to you, wanting to save you.

"I'm sorry", he whispers through his helmet and you can hear the sorrow in his voice now, strong and clear.

"No, I have to be the one apologizing. I betrayed you and I don't know how you could ever trust me again", you disregard his words and shake your head, feeling so incredibly ashamed of yourself for what you did. Lowering your head and hiding your face in your hands, you can't stop the tears from falling as all those memories come back to you, laughing directly in your face.

But when you suddenly get pulled forward and feel warm hands around you, you open your eyes only to find yourself in Din's - and also Grogu's - arms. He presses you against him, his hand on the back of your head as if we will never let you go.

"It's not your fault, none of it", Din speaks to you, sounding so sure about what he says that it makes your heart beat faster. "You saved us, Y/N."

"I don't deserve your kindness. How can you forgive me? After everything I have done?", you ask, pushing yourself an arm's length away from him so your face is only inches away from his.

"I already forgave you", he concludes, resting his forehead against yours. "But I think it's time that you finally forgive yourself."

[generalfoolish]

The Cold Weather Collection

Summary: In which Din Djarin navigates a cold world with his foundling.

Warnings: *All of my works are M for mature so 18+ please; language, language, language, canon typical violence, no pairing, just musings from Din's perspective.

Word Count: 2.1K

A/N: This is my attempt at making my master list for Din Djarin a little nicer to look at. It's been in shambles for ages. This collection is all of my first little one shots shoved into one. I repeat: it's all old stuff.

Master List | Tag List Form | Din Djarin Master List

Din watched as Grogu shuffled across the clearing. He was silent as he watched his foundling, but a smile crept on his face when he noticed the hesitant steps of the child. Din had taken the robe in at his feet, in an effort to protect the child, and he realized now that perhaps the onesie was awkward to walk in. The thought brought a bigger smile to Din’s face. The Mudhorn Clan were two of a kind, a couple of lost souls wearing suits that shielded them. Perhaps closing them off from too much. 

Din sighed beneath his helmet, knowing he would not show Grogu his face, but the ache in his heart swelling at the thought of releasing that burden, at least with his son. His thoughts were stopped all at once when he heard a shrill cawing. Quickly he scanned the clearing, and saw two heat signatures. He moved faster than he thought possible, but was unable to react when he approached the kid.

Grogu blinked up at him, a smile across his face, and between his lips were the feet of a bird. Without fanfare, the child swallowed the last remnants of the kill, feathers trailing around him. Din could only laugh. 

“Don’t do that again.” He told Grogu in a stern voice, but lost all steam when the child blinked at him sleepily.

Din piloted the Crest down carefully, and quickly turned the thrusters off. He looked down at the child and then back at the falling snow outside. He reasoned the carrier would likely keep the kid warm enough for Din to snag the bounty. As they made their way down the cockpit, Din grabbed an extra blanket, just in case. 

There wasn’t anything on Hoth but snow. And of course, a bounty. Din didn’t like the idea of anyone who would choose Hoth to hide on, and knew he wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible. He lowered the ramp out of the Crest, and pushed the button on his wrist to close up the kid’s carrier. He couldn’t have the child getting hypothermia. As soon as the lid snapped shut though, it opened right back up. Din narrowed his eyes, and took in the child. Seemingly innocent, but definitely guilty. 

“You’ll freeze.” Din told him carefully. He fingered the button again, and started walking. He heard the click of it opening again and stopped. He stared the child down, but the kid only blinked back at him. The snow was swirling all around them. 

“Cut it out.” Din told the child again, a softness in his voice now. Though he could feel his irritation rising. 

He snapped the lid closed again and took off into the snowfall. The lid remained closed this time, and Din felt he had won the little standoff. It has been a challenge trying to care for his foundling. His line of work didn’t lend itself to child rearing. And he had no idea how to effectively communicate with the kid, kriff, he didn’t even know the kid’s name. He paused to look at the carrier, only to be surprised. The lid was open, and the kid was gone. 

“Kid!” He yelled, not thinking, only reacting. The snow was falling heavily now, so he switched to thermal heating vision, and relaxed when he registered the small heat coming from the child. He walked a few feet to where the kid had fallen into a snow drift. Gently, Din helped him to his feet and brushed the snow off where it clung to his long, green ears. The child smiled, and held Din’s hand for a minute, then sleepily reached up. Laughing, Din grabbed the child from under his arms and held him close. He tucked the kid back in, and closed the lid again. He was sure the child would stay put this time, and he headed deeper into the snowfall.

Din looked himself over in the mirror, his helmet a shiny mound beside him. The fresher on the Razor Crest was small, but he hadn’t needed anything larger. He had the door pulled tight, and knew that Grogu would be sleeping. They were on their way to find a…jedi rock. He wasn’t sure how to do this. He didn’t even know that Jedi were real. He blinked at himself in the artificial light, and sighed at the sight. He looked tired, and maybe even old. His facial hair needed a trim. He needed more sun. He glanced down at his helmet again, then back at his face. 

Bo Katan had placed a dangerous worm of a thought in his mind, and now he couldn’t shake it. A life without the helmet always on, a life where he could see and be seen…he closed his eyes and let himself imagine the feeling of sun on his face. A hand stroking his cheek, a soft kiss pressed to his lips, and he gasped. His eyes fluttered open, and he hit the wall beside him. 

The promise was too big, and his creed too ingrained. Maybe one day, but today his quest was Grogu. He would focus on his foundling for now. He placed the helmet back on, and his thoughts stayed trapped in the mirror.

Din handed the child a piece of chocolate, and watched as his greedy, green hands shot out and snatched it. The kid loved sweets more than anything, and Din didn’t mind spending the credits on him. In fact, he loved spoiling the kid. He didn’t know how to say the word, and it hung heavy in his chest as he even considered it. Loving was maybe not his nature, but he could give the kid what he wanted at least. The chocolate was long gone now. The child was looking at him expectantly, so Din chuckled and gave him another small piece. 

The chocolates were smaller bits, and he knew the child would plow through them. He wondered what they tasted like. He had had chocolate before, but these looked incredible. He grabbed one for himself, and pushed his helmet up carefully. Just above his mouth, only enough to pop the chocolate in and let the helmet down again. He felt the sweetness melt over his tongue immediately. He lifted it to the roof of his mouth, and sucked slowly. 

The outer casing broke apart from the force, and the gooey inside spread slowly over his tongue. He savored the moment, the flavors incredible. He didn’t give himself many treats, or any for that fact. He was just a bounty hunter, and his back hurt. But the child made him feel younger, stronger. And the sweet made his mouth water; the temptation to grab another was almost overwhelming. 

He smiled down at the child, his hand outstretched and a chocolate floating in the air between them.

Din hadn’t really felt comfortable leaving the kid behind, but Cara had ensured him it would be alright. She had told him the school was safe, and he had trusted her. He had no reason not to. 

As he crossed the threshold of the building, he knew he had made the right choice. His instincts were rarely wrong. And here was his foundling, his son, bent over the desk scribbling away. The sight was almost funny, the quill far too large for the child’s small hands, and the paper underneath far too pale against his green skin. He seemed focused on his task, so Din waited a moment. From his vantage point, just inside the threshold, Din could see every child was as hard at work as his own. He smiled at the thought of the child, the extraordinary child, sitting amongst a group of village kids. It might be okay, he thought, for a while. Until the children realize he had powers. Until the kids realize that the child was different. Until the Imps caught up. He shook his head against the thought, and decided it was time to go. 

Din crossed the room to his foundling in a few steps, and smiled down at the child. 

“Time to go, kid.” He said, his modulator hiding the thickness of emotion that threatened his voice. The kid looked up at him, and Din’s heart stammered at the sight. One look from the kid could melt Din’s resolve. He was a warrior, but when the kid blinked those giant brown eyes at him, he was helpless. 

Din tore his eyes away, the kid would never know, he was safe behind the helmet. He landed on the desk, looking at the work that had kept the younglings so preoccupied, and his heart skittered to a stop. It was moments before he could even breathe. 

The paper, the drawing, the kid had been working on was a portrait. It was the child, complete with his carrier, and Din. In his full suit of armor, a gun in hand, and a cape. It was an accurate drawing, to be sure. But that wasn’t what Din was focusing on, to the side, in Basic, was simply written clan. 

The child cooed and lifted the paper to Din. He wasn’t sure if the kid could understand him, but he had to try. He reached out, and placed his gloved hand on the child. 

“Family.”

Din circles the mountain as he looks for a spot to land the Crest. He mutters to himself as he lands on the wrong side. He didn’t have a choice. The only clearing on the blasted rock was as far away from the tracking fob as it could be. He grumbled as he made his way out of the cockpit and into the hull. 

It’s not like he could just jet over there, either. Too obvious. The bounty would see him coming and run. Again. He had been chasing this particular bounty for far too long. He grunted as he pulled some weapons down, and considered what he would need. 

What would he need for the bounty that had given him the slip? It had never happened before, and he wasn’t willing to let it happen again. The child was fast asleep in his carrier, so Din just closed the lid and led the two out of the ship. It would be a long walk. 

–

Din crept up quietly, and checked the fob. This was his mark, alright. He didn’t know how he had lost them before, but he had no intention of giving them the chance. He slipped into a crouch as he picked his way across the forest floor. The leaves and branches underfoot behaved, and he was able to creep right up onto the camp of the mark. 

He pulled the rifle up to his shoulder, and peered down the cross hairs. The crackle of the fire only slighting interfering, and he lined the shot up. The echo of the fired round bounced off everything. 

If there was anyone else camped on the mountain they knew he was there. He looked back at the sagging body and cursed. He had been so shortsighted. He was going to have to drag the bounty back to the ship. He exhaled and made his way over to the body. 

Din decided there, in the orange glow of the fire, under a canopy of leaves and stars, that he absolutely hated mountains.

Din sat heavily down onto the pilot’s seat, and a dragging sigh escaped his lips as he did so. He was exhausted, full body exhausted. He was starting to see black spots in his vision, and as someone who relied on their senses to stay alive, it wasn’t ideal. 

He pushed his helmet up and off without much fanfare, the familiar hiss a gentle reminder that he needed to set the next coordinates into the Crest’s nav system. He tossed the helmet to the co-pilot seat, empty since the child was tucked away for the night. Sleeping, Din thought crossly. The child could sleep the entire day. A fond smile spread across his face, he couldn’t even be aggravated in this state at the kid. 

Rolling his neck, he turned back to the nav system and punched the numbers in. He wiped his hands over his face, and groaned again. He hadn’t made any time for himself, lately. He started taking the armor off, the heavy beskaar hitting the floor noisily. Finally, he was left with just an undershirt and his thin pants. He stretched, groaning all the while. Dank ferrick, his back hurt. 

He reached into a compartment beside him, and grabbed a pad. He always tried to decompress his mind by logging his bounties, and lately he had found himself writing a lot about the kid. He chuckled, remembering the jerking legs of some little creature half swallowed from a few hours ago. Soon, without realizing it, Din had written pages of his adventures with the kid, and nothing about his last bounty. He slipped off to sleep in the pilot’s seat, the data pad pressed close to his chest, and the child on his mind.

[ddejavvu]

grumpy beefy mando falling for soft!reader in her “grandma era” - all she wants to do is crochet, bake and frolic around the galaxy with mando and grogu 🫶🏽

"He doesn't like hats."

You glance up at Din from where you're testing a length of crocheted stitches beneath Grogu's chin, ensuring that the hat inspired by the local flora of the forest planet you've found shelter on won't fall off if he gets too rigorous in his play.

Grogu coos beneath the flower hat, but whether it's in agreement or protest you can't tell.

"He likes this one," You decide, when the little green terror before you doesn't fight as you maneuver his ears through their designated slots, "And he doesn't have to wear it if he doesn't want to."

Your fingers slip the little white button through the slot you've left in the band, and the hat is secured around Grogu's chin; the cutest little flower you ever did see.

"Oh, honey," You gush, scooping the child up and tucking him into your arms, "You wanna see your hat? C'mere, let's look."

You crouch in front of the tree stump that Din has settled on, holding Grogu up to the man's beskar chest plate. It's freshly polished, but not completely reflective, so at the right angle, Grogu catches a blurry, slightly distorted version of himself in a very pink hat.

His legs are still too small to kick in excitement, but his arms pick up the slack, flapping about while copious amounts of baby babble streams from his mouth. Evidently he's pleased with your handiwork.

Din stays silent while he offers his armor up for Grogu's viewing pleasure, but the child's hands soon find the soft strap beneath his chin and tug.

"I told you he didn't like hats..." Din murmurs, not to be cruel, but to fill empty space in the air when your shoulders deflate slightly.

"I thought he'd like it if it was softer," You hum sadly, helping Grogu take the button out of its clasp so that he can tug the hat off of his head, "I just figured he didn't like the helmet you gave him because it was uncomfortable."

As soon as you've freed Grogu from the confines of his flowery prison his hands slap against the shiny metal of Din's armor. He takes the child out of your hands but Grogu keeps his hat tightly clutched in his fist, and, with valiant effort, pushes the hat into Din's helmet, insistently cooing something that sounds suspiciously like buir.

Your giddiness returns, and you circle Din like a hawk, "Oh, you want your buir to wear it? Let's see," Amidst Din's protests you balance the too-small cap on his helmet, and he stills if only to save the hat from slipping and dying a muddy death on the ground below.

"It doesn't fit me." He grumbles, body stiff as he keeps it balanced on his head. Grogu seems pleased with his buir's new headpiece, squealing and showing off his newly-emerged teeth in a grin.

"I'll make you a matching one!" You declare, snatching the hat off of his helmet to give him the freedom of movement again, "Grogu, baby, what color should Din's be?"

"Bah!" Grogu decides, and your steps still where you're racing back towards your shelter.

"Uh... how about purple?" You suggest, and another resounding 'Bah.' is all the encouragement you need.

[bits-and-babs]

I imagine Mando is a virgin, do to his cult/religion.

What if fem/afab reader is Mando's partner on something and Din finds himself staring at their ass, their face, anything.

Reader notices and decides to lead Din through his first time?

𝐏𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐊𝐀𝐑 — 𝐃𝐈𝐍 𝐃𝐉𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐍

» PAIRING : The Mandalorian x F!Reader

» CONTENTS : exhibitionism, masturbation, p in v sex, unprotected sex (I can hear you all screaming from here, I KNOW), cute, shy Mando. 18+ you N A S T I E S.

» DIN MASTERLIST : here || MAIN MASTERLIST : here

It’s so fucking quiet on the Razor Crest.

The Mandalorian had been suspiciously silent for the majority of your trip to Theed— made even worse by the knowledge that it was such a long journey. He had spent most of his time in the cockpit of the ship, pretending to be preoccupied with the coordinates that he hadn’t changed since setting off.

You didn’t think anything of it at first. The long drags of The Mandalorian's eyes that you could feel pull across your form, settling on your ass like a tractor beam had them glued to you. Of course, you’d just explained it away with exhaustion. For a moment, you even considered that you’d been afflicted with Hyper-Rapture, imagining things that weren’t there, inventing the gaze you felt skirting over your form.

No, you don’t think anything of it at all. Not until you walk into the cockpit of the Razor Crest one evening to find The Mandalorian thrusting into his palm and quietly whimpering out your name.

Mando hadn’t seen you, spilling into his palm and wheezing as though he’d been shot by a blaster in the side. His cum had run down the knuckles of his fingers, the two-tone gloves he consistently wore hanging off the controls.

Stars, you couldn’t shake the image from your minds-eye, nor could you ignore the echo of your whimpered name when you close your eyes at night.

It’s late. Mando has managed to settle the rambunctious Child into his cot, gently laying him amongst the blankets and closing the lid. It hisses softly, the mechanics locking with a quiet ‘click’.

You can hear his boots clang across the durasteel flooring, each footstep pronounced. Heat swallows your face as you stare at the Aurebesh lettering in your book, the lines all blurring into one when you feel him approach you.

Your name rings in your ears.

“He’s asleep,” Mando speaks softly, his husky tone soothing in its quiet volume. Looking up at him through your lashes, you carefully close the book you had pretended to preoccupy yourself with. Mando’s visor stares down at you blankly, an immovable object that makes your hands shake when you reach for him.

“… That’s perfect,” you whisper, voice cracking slightly when your palms touch the flight suit beneath the lip of his breastplate. You can feel his body flinch, his hip bones soft beneath the canvas.

“H-Hey,” he says cautiously, shocked by the sudden contact. You rub gentle circles with your thumb, chewing on the inside of your cheek in an attempt to ease your thumping heart.

“I heard you,” you break it to him gently, watching his body stiffen at your admission, “Why did you hide it from me?”

Mando doesn’t respond, your touch having stolen the breath from his lungs. He shudders, his cock hard already beneath the fabric of his suit. You see it twitch, responsive to your light touch.

You smile to yourself, careful as you unclip his utility belt.

“I can give you what you want?”

You insist upon fucking him in the pilot seat. Mando implores you to allow him to keep his armour on. Of course, you concede. This is outside of his comfort zone; he would want to cling to what makes him comfortable.

Straddling his lap, you feel the sting of cold from his tassets bite into the naked flesh of your thighs. The head of his cock rests against your clit, and your muscles buzz with a mixture of arousal and anticipation. You’re drunk on it, high on it.

“I haven’t-“ Mando speaks, his voice catching in his throat when you dip his cock through your soaking folds. It’s like he short circuits, choking on a thick syllable.

“Mhm?” You hum softly. You’ve taken control, your experience making it easier for Mando to relax into you. He leans forward, pressing the cold Beskar of his helmet against your collarbone.

“I haven’t… Done this,” he admits to you, his tone reserved- shy. Mando’s breath hitches in his chest when you settle the head of his cock against your entrance. He sinks inside you ever so slightly, a groan rattling his lungs at the promise of tight, wet heat.

“I know,” you whisper softly, easing down onto his length as you soothe him. Mando’s back arches against the leather of the pilot seat, a choked moan of your name escaping him— not unlike the ones you heard when you caught him fucking his hand.

You don’t move, your walls fluttering around the stretch of him in your cunt. Mando is choking back curses, his hands gripping the curve of your ass and burying his fingertips into the soft flesh there.

“Oh, fu-ughh- so tight-'' he rambles, pitchy in tone as you bury him to the hilt. He’s touching the deepest parts of you, so thick and long that you’re sure you can feel him settle amongst your lungs.

It’s immediately apparent that Mando won’t last long. His thighs are trembling, cock twitching inside you despite your lack of movement. You don’t mind. This isn’t about you.

“Does it feel good?” You check in with him, smoothing your palms down the reflective surface of his breastplate. Your body heat is so high that the chilled metal clouds with condensation the moment your skin rests against it.

“So fucking tight- Maker-“ he gasps in response to you squeezing around him. “I’m-I’m gonna cum-“

Delicately, you lean your head down to press a kiss to the slither of skin exposed between the neckline of his flight suit and his helmet. You follow it up with a long, slow drag of your tongue.

Mando cums with a haggard groan, his whole body shuddering with the intensity of it. His head drops back against the headrest of the seat, chest heaving as he sucks in laboured breaths. Your flesh aches slightly from the tight grip he holds.

“S-Stars-“

It makes you smile, because you’re sure he sees them dancing behind his eyelids.

END

[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

[beskarandblasters]

Tell me how it’s lookin’, babe

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Main Masterlist | Din Djarin Masterlist

Author’s note: Thank you to @planet-marz1 for sending the discord this image because that’s what inspired all this 😵‍💫 Gifs are by @bestintheparsec and banners + dividers are by @saradika 🖤

Summary: You see Din in just his flight suit and don’t know how to act.

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: reader is able-bodied, canon divergent, helmet stays on, porn with little plot, pet names (cyar’ika for you, baby for Din), tattooed!Din, shy!Din, uncircumcised!Din, body worship, oral sex (M receiving), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, half ass editing 😔, no use of y/n

It’s been another long, exhausting day. All you can think about is peeling your clothes off your sweaty body and crawling into Din’s bunk… And dumping the sand out of your boots. Maker, you really don’t care for Tatooine.

The walk across the desert is laborious, but soon enough the Razor Crest appears in the distance, like a mirage before your eyes. You pick up the pace, anxious to feel some air conditioning already. Before you know it Din’s lowering the exit ramp and you’re back inside the cool metal interior of the Crest. You slip off your boots and leave them by the door before heading to the bunk. You don’t hesitate to shed layers of clothes as you walk, tossing them into a pile on the floor at the foot of the cot. It’s nothing new for Din, he’s seen you naked countless times now. But you look over at him, leaning in the door frame by the bunk, and covered in layer after layer…

“You’re not… hot?” you ask him.

“…What do you mean?”

“Like sweaty, Din.”

“Oh… Yes.”

“You don’t ever wanna take all that off? Not the helmet of course. But even just the armor?”

“I guess I could.”

“Only if you’re comfortable,” you reassure him, taking a step closer to him and placing your hand on the hollow part of his helmet. He rests his hand on top of yours and says, “I am.”

You nod, looking deep into the T-shaped visor and take a step back so he can start to remove his armor, his weapons, and his cape. It’s methodical and meticulous the way he does it, each piece carefully removed and placed into a small pile on the floor.

And now he’s standing before you, wearing only his boots and his flight suit. He looks hot in his armor, there’s no question about that. But now that he’s just in his flight suit you can see his form so much better; his biceps, his chest, his thighs, everything. You’re fully staring at him, mouth agape and eyes full of lust and admiration. He’s all yours.

“Cyar’ika?” he says, breaking your trance.

“Hm?”

“What are you looking at?”

“You.”

You hear his breath hitch under the helmet. You take a step closer again and run your hands along the fabric of the flight suit. His visor follows the movement of your hand, running along his chest and down his arms. You look down and there’s a bulge growing in his flight suit.

“How do I look?” he says softly.

“So kriffing good, Din.”

“Really?”

“Of course you do,” you respond, moving your hand down to his groin. He lets out a strained “cyar’ika” as you palm his cock over his flight suit.

“Feel like shedding another layer?” you ask with a grin.

“You want to see me like that?”

“Baby, I’ve been dreaming about it.”

“You mean that?”

“Mhm,” you say, feeling the wetness grow between your legs.

“I guess I could take it off.”

“Only if you want to,” you reassure him, meeting his gaze again.

“I’m sure,” he says with a small nod.

He takes off his gloves, tossing them by the pile of beskar the corner before slipping off his boots. You follow the movement of his hands, realizing this is the first of his skin you’re seeing other than his cock. His hands are calloused, peppered with small scars from years of training, fighting, and bounty hunting.

And now it’s time for the flight suit to come off. He takes a deep breath and unzips it, stepping out of it and again tossing it by the pile of armor in the corner. His cock springs free as he releases it from the fabric, hard and sticking straight out. His whole figure is broad, his limbs toned and muscular. There’s more scars like the ones on his hands. Some are smaller and paler in color. Some are deeper, their edges more irregular. He’s got some beauty marks as well, each of them scattered about in his chest and arms, down to his legs. On his left bicep he has a tattoo, a simple black ring encircling his upper arm. It suits him well. He’s just beautiful, every feature of his telling a part of his history. And you’d like to know more.

You’ve had thoughts in the past that seeing Din completely naked with just his helmet on might be a weird sight, but now that it’s here in front of you it just feels right; a sliver of intimacy you and only you will ever know, even if you can’t see his face.

“Din… you’re beautiful,” you say, hands immediately gravitating to his sides.

“You don’t mean that.”

“Oh but I do,” you say, one hand roaming up his torso and to his chest, while the other moves down to his cock.

He says nothing, his visor fixed on your hand stroking his cock.

“Let me show you,” you say softly.

You sink to your knees and kiss along his groin. He lets out a soft groan every time you inch closer to his cock. You bring a hand to his balls and cup them lightly before finally swirling your tongue around the head of his cock, sliding it underneath the foreskin to draw a sharper moan from him. He curses under his breath and runs a hand through your hair, desperate for more.

And finally, you give it to him, taking his length in your mouth. The grip on your hair tightens as you bob your head up and down, all while you’re still cupping his balls. You look up at him, making eye contact with his visor as you suck him off. All of a sudden his balls tighten up in your hand and his cock twitches in your mouth. He’s going to cum soon but you’re not ready for that just yet. You pull your mouth away much to his chagrin as he lets out a soft whimper when you do.

“On the cot, baby,” you say, wiping the drool dripping from your chin.

He lies down on the cot and you move to straddle him, his cock glistening with his pre cum and your spit resting by your cunt. He brings a hand to your entrance, stroking it up and down with his fingers and spreading around your wetness. His fingers circle around your clit, working you up and making you more anxious to sit on it already. And eventually, you just can’t take it anymore.

You move his hand away, pinning it up by his helmet while you inch forward and sink down onto his cock. You’ve ridden him before but now you get to rest his hands on his bare chest for once. And you do, the warmth of his skin radiating against your palms as you rock your hips back and forth. His hands move to your waist, giving the skin a soft squeeze while you drive his cock deeper inside you.

“Kriff, cyar’ika,” he curses, coming out as a moan.

“Mmm, you feel so good. Kriff, you look so good, Din,” you respond, tears stinging your vision as you look into his visor. It’s hard to stay fixed on his visor for long, though. Your eyes want to roam his body. They keep gravitating towards the tattoo on his bicep.

“And when did you get this?” you ask, fingers grazing the tattooed skin.

“A long time ago. You like it?”

“Mhm. Maybe you should get more.”

“Oh, yeah? You’d like that?”

“I’d love that.”

Kriff, now you’re thinking of Din with more tattoos and your mind starts going hazey at the thought. You grind your hips against him, feeling the wetness seep out of you and down his shaft, soaking his groin. The small bunk is filled with the obscene noises of skin colliding with skin and the wet sound of his cock moving in and out of you.

Soon enough, you’re at the edge of orgasm thanks to Din’s cock hitting all the deepest angles inside you, the sight of his bare body beneath yours and the thought of him with tattoos.

“Din, I’m gonna cum,” you whimper.

“Mm, let me feel it, cyar’ika.”

A tingling sensation originates at your core and spreads outwards. The movement of your hips grow erratic as you ride out your high, the pool of wetness beneath you growing bigger as you cum. Your own orgasm triggers Din’s and soon you’re both coming together. His cum spills inside you and his grip on your waist tightens as he moans your name.

But now you’re resting against his chest, his cock still inside you and starting to go soft. Your bodies are slick with sweat as you catch your breath. You whisper beside his helmet, “You should get naked more often.”

“I bet you’d like that.”

“Oh come on, you know I would.”

He chuckles, “I know, cyar’ika. I know.”

He rubs your back and soon enough you’re both falling asleep, letting the exhaustion from the day and the evening’s activities finally get to you. You could spend the rest of your days like this.

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[psychosith]

Just Admiring

Din Djarin x reader, Poe Dameron x reader (seperate)

summary: you’re touching up your appearance in their visor and they sit back to admire you

warnings: fluff? idk

a/n: this is based off a request by @raechu11, though i altered it a bit to include my boy poe cuz i feel like he doesn’t get enough love😔 another rushed piece but y’all already know writers block is hitting me like a cement brick rn sooo

Din Djarin

You’re on a supplies run on Coruscant, sleep deprived and sore after a thrilling mission in the outer rim. Din had gone to a weapons shop a few blocks away, and you were getting some medical supplies for your kit on the ship. After picking up some bandages and bacta, you headed to the rendezvous point, a nearby cantina.

The atmosphere in the cantina was loud and distracting, but you managed to snag a quiet booth in the corner where Din found you a few minutes later. He slid into the seat next to you and you two ordered something to eat. Well, you ordered something to eat. Din insisted he wasn’t hungry yet still offered to pay for your meal.

The food was nothing spectacular, as to be expected in a dingy cantina like this, and it was messy. Sauce spilled out onto your plate and eventually, your face. You searched around for a napkin and found one to wipe your mouth with. “Alright,” you say, turning back to Din. “Ready to head out.”

Din hesitates a little, before gesturing to where his mouth would be. “You have a little…” he says.

“Oh,” you say. Your face flushes red as you turn away in embarrassment before an idea pops into your head. You turn to face Din and glimpse yourself in the oddly reflective visor of his helmet.

You swipe at the bit of sauce on your lip and reach into your pockets and grab a tin of lip salve. Facing back towards Din, you apply the salve and take another few seconds to fix your hair, generally touching up your appearance. Din doesn’t move once throughout this entire endeavor, it seems he’s transfixed. You can hear a soft laugh from Din’s helmet, and his shoulders shake slightly to accompany the sound.

“Something funny?” you ask. His head tilts slightly as he relaxes and lets himself live in the moment.

“Not at all. Just… admiring.”

Poe Dameron

(omg the way hes looking at the person in this gif someone sedate me)

The last strike against the Empire had been entirely unsuccessful. You had lost valuable men and resources that day, and it was time to do damage control. General Organa was coming down to your base to help, and there was roughly five minutes until you would be meeting with her. Unfortunately, you had also just gotten back from a small dogfight with a couple of imperial TIE fighters on one of this planet’s many moons. You and Poe had managed to take them all down, but now you were sweaty and flushed from the exertion. You were sure you had a bad case of helmet hair and you had no time to change from your suit.

Poe offered to walk you to the meeting, still in his flight suit and helmet still on. When you’re finally at the door to the meeting room he offers some words of encouragement. “Don’t be nervous,” he says with that trademark smirk, “I’m sure you’ll survive.”

“Wow, thanks,” you respond, sarcasm heavy in your tone. “How do I look?”

Without thinking, you start looking into his helmet visor and smoothing out your flyaway hairs. You comb through your hair with your fingers and start to impulsively flatten your tousled flight suit.

When your eyes unfocus from your own reflection, you meet Poe’s warm brown ones. His eyes dance across your features as he looks you up and down, and all of a sudden you become sheepish at the thought of him watching you. “What, do I have something on my face?”

“No,” he says. His hand moves to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “I was just admiring.”

“Oh,” you say.

“You look beautiful.”

[ilovepedro]

Woven in the Stars | din djarin x f!reader

Main masterlist

Series Summary: Instead of navigating the galaxies, Din is navigating his new home life with Grogu on the ourskirts of Nevarro. In doing so, he meets you - a seamstress in town. The two of you form a beautiful bond through helping him adjust to domesticity in his secluded cabin. Throughout the time you share together, the bond you have flourishes into something more that can no longer be contained.

Rating: 18+ MDNI (All ageless blogs will be blocked.)

Series Warnings: slow burn, mutual pining, yearning, simp!Din, domestic!Din, dad!Din, soft!Din, lil bit of OOC!Din, masturbation (female + male), eventual smut, unprotected PIV (wrap it up y’all), oral (f and m receiving), reader has a birth control implant, breeding kink, spitting, fingering, Din is an ass man, possessive!Din, so much fluff, aftercare, lots of pet names, some POV switching, post-season 3, breaking the rules of the Creed, probs inaccurate star wars info, Din Djarin is referred to as Din and i’m not sorry, reader is female, no mention of hair type/skin color/body type, NO USE OF Y/N, may change as I write (:

A/N: this whole idea struck while i was with my bff a while back. we were listening to “Slow Burn” by Kacey Musgraves and we both agreed that song is so Din coded so… here we are lol. i began writing domestic!Din back in October, and then i saw this STUNNING moodboard by @wildemaven and it fueled my brain rot even further! this will be divided into a few parts, and include an epilogue. i’m such a sucker for mutual pining slow burn 🫠 i hope y’all enjoy! 🫶🏼

Updates on Mando Mondays (schedule may vary)

Divider by the lovely @saradika

Chapters

Chapter 1: Stitching Serenity

Chapter 2: Cosmically Sewn

Chapter 3: Unraveling Tapestry

Chapter 4: Moonlit Stitches

Chapter 5: Threads of Destiny

Chapter 6: Celestial Whispers

Epilogue: Etched in Stardust

[hyperactively-me]

tension

You've seen his face countless times, but every time the helmet comes off, it's as though you're seeing him for the first time over and over again. His expression is more than it's normal stoicism; it's vulnerable, raw. His big brown eyes come into contact with yours as you reach up, your fingers gently brushing through his messy curls. Din closes his eyes for a brief moment, savoring the contact. "Hi there, handsome," you murmur softly, allowing your fingers to linger on his strands of hair. "You clean up well, don't you?"

massaging din’s sore, aching muscles ... leads to ... yeah. I'M SORRY (not sorry at all) PUT ME IN HORNY JAIL FOR THIS IDC. it started off so innocent but then the horny monster came out and took over.

tags: smut, OILED UP DIN DJARIN, I REPEAT, OILED UP DIN DJARIN. established relationship

Din has no issue praising and worshipping you with nothing but love and adoration. In fact, it feels like second nature to him.

When he's the object of your praises, though, he doesn't know how to act. He's caught off guard by your doting attention, your quiet praises, your gentle touches.

The gruff exterior that comes so naturally to him becomes a bit more pronounced when faced with compliments and affection.

His usual response was to deflect and downplay, wanting to be the one in control, the one doing the praising rather than receiving it. It's not that he didn't appreciate your words; it's just that the vulnerability of accepting them was difficult for him.

In those moments, you read his body language like the back of your hand. You could see the conflict in his eyes, a mixture of gratitude and discomfort. He had been alone for most of his time in this cruel galaxy, had spent so long being self-reliant, not needing validation from others, that being on the receiving end of such genuine affection challenged his identity of being the stoic, impenetrable Mandalorian.

So, when he finally comes back to the Razor Crest after catching an elusive bounty, you know exactly what to do to put him at ease, to show him how much you love him, your riduur.

You catch his hand before he can take any of his armor off.

"Don't. Let me do it," you say gently, tugging his hand away.

He stares at you with that ever stoic expression you know he has on his face right now beneath the helmet. A few beats pass, and he relents, letting his wrist fall limp in your grip.

"Thank you," you whisper quietly, now running your hands up his shoulders.

You start with his baldric and belt, catching it in your grip as you unfasten the clasps. It's surprisingly heavy in your hands, and you're already a bit weary to take off the beskar.

Next, you slip his worn brown cape off his shoulders, the rough material scraping across your fingers. You can still feel traces of warmth around the part that was settled around his neck and shoulders.

Din stands before you, now with his baldric, belt, and cape out of the way, the beskar armor still encases his form. You take a moment to appreciate the craftsmanship of the beskar, tracing the shiny metal with your fingertips. The material is cool to the touch, a stark contrast to the warmth of his body you can barely feel radiating off his form. Din still stands rigid, hands flexing at his side.

His gaze remains steady, a silent acknowledgment of your request. You take charge again, delicately unfastening the clasps of his shoulder pads and removing the plates, and you can feel just how tense even just his shoulders are.

You set them gently to the side and start to work on his chest plate, easing it away from his torso with careful precision. The beskar plates release with a loud clinking sound, revealing the fabric of his flight suit beneath. You can clearly see Din's chest rise and fall with a steadiness that betrays the controlled exterior he presents to the world. With a small grunt, you ease the heavy beskar chestplate to the side, shooting Din a look when he tries to take it from your grasp.

"You said you would let me do it," you whisper, a playful yet stern glint in your eyes.

He sighs through the voice transmitter, yet allows you to continue your process of taking his armor off.

His shoulders sag forward ever so slightly as the weight of the chest plate is removed from his body, grunting with relief as he rolls his shoulders back a few times.

Next, you move on to his vambraces, unlocking the beskar from his arms. As you work on removing the vambraces, the sleeves of his flight suit ride up and you notice the subtle scars and markings on Din's forearms. You're careful to not drop the one loaded with bullets and other small weaponry.

Your hands move with a practiced gentleness, and you can sense Din's quiet appreciation for the care you're taking.

As the small pieces of armor joins the growing collection of beskar beside you, the room is filled with a sense of intimacy, a shared vulnerability palpable between you two.

Din stands before you now, the upper half of his body free from the encasement of armor. The warmth of his skin is more perceptible, and you can see a slight relaxation in his demeanor.

You move lower now, unfastening the straps securing the beskar that adorns his thighs. Your hands brush against his skin, and that's when he starts to shift side to side. You smile to yourself as you set the pieces to the side, letting your hands drag from the back his knees down to his shins to remove the final pieces.

Beskar greaves protect his shins, and you get on your knees to remove them. You don't miss the way his breath catches in his throat at the sight of you on your knees before him, but he refuses to move a muscle.

Carefully, you unfasten the straps securing the beskar greaves, allowing them to slide down his shins. Your hands move with a deliberate gentleness as you catch them, setting them on top of the stack of armor. Now that all of his armor is removed, you can clearly tell Din is now more relaxed, not as rigid.

His head his angled directly at you, the black t-visor of his helmet piercing through you. You smile softly up at him, pushing yourself to standing but not without him grabbing your hand to help you up.

You know what he's thinking. You know what he wants. He'll just never say it.

You press up onto your toes, placing your hands on his shoulders. His hands finally move, coming to rest on your waist as you lean into where you think his ear would be.

"Later," you whisper seductively, and he firmly squeezes your waist in his grip.

You take a step back, now turning your focus back to his leather gloves. Taking his left hand in yours, you spread his fingers out so you're able to slip his glove off his easier. The leather glove comes off smoothly, revealing his calloused yet gentle hand beneath. You set the glove aside, repeating the action on his other hand.

Din watches you with that unyielding gaze, his helmeted face betraying no emotions, and the tension in the air does anything but subside.

As you remove the second glove, you can't help but admire his hands; how large they, how strong they are. They're the tools of a warrior: skilled and precise, calloused and graceful. With his hands now bare, you step closer to him, your fingers tracing the lineaments of his palm. The warmth of his skin contrasts with the coolness of the beskar that once covered him. His hands are strong, yet there's a gentleness in the way he allows you to explore them.

You finally look up to his helmet, clicking your tongue with disapproval. You couldn't really get his shirt off without stretching out the neck over his helmet, and we can't have that, can we? Poor shirt, all stretched out. Oh well! Looks like we have to see your beautiful riduur's face!

You run your hands on the underside of his helmet, tracing the hard edges with the pads of your fingers. Suddenly, you latch onto the edges and slowly start to pull it up and off his head. Din's breath catches as the helmet is lifted, his nose twitching ever so slightly.

The helmet comes clean off, revealing his face, his dark hair tousled from the snug fit. You're met with his intense gaze, and for a moment, your own breath catches in your throat.

You've seen his face countless times, but every time the helmet comes off, it's as though you're seeing him for the first time over and over again.

His expression is more than it's normal stoicism; it's vulnerable, raw. His big brown eyes come into contact with yours as you reach up, your fingers gently brushing through his messy curls. Din closes his eyes for a brief moment, savoring the contact.

"Hi there, handsome," you murmur softly, allowing your fingers to linger on his strands of hair. "You clean up well, don't you?"

His lips twitch in a hint of a smile, eyebrows quirking at your playful comment.

"Are you going to finish, cyar'ika? Or are you going to finish undressing me with just your eyes?"

You roll your eyes at his remark, fighting back a laugh at his nonchalant comment.

"I guess I do have some unfinished business," you reply, hands tugging at the hem of his shirt.

You guide his shirt up and over his head, pulling it off his form and letting it fall to the floor. You're met with his tanned, toned chest, marked with scars, the silent stories of the battles he's fought.

You run your fingers lightly over the contours of his chest, savoring the feeling of his tight muscles and soft stomach. He shivers under your touch at the way your nails drag across his skin, pressing into it ever so slightly. Din watches you closely, his gaze never leaving your hands. With a soft smile, you lean in, pressing a gentle kiss to his skin between his shoulder and upper chest.

Din's fingers find their way to your hair, but you pull back, now grabbing the waistband of his pants. You tug them down quickly, helping him step out of the pant legs, but leaving him in his loose boxers.

You reach for his hand, intertwining your fingers with his, and guide him to the bed. There's no rush, no urgency. For both of you, it's a moment to savor, to appreciate each other in a quiet, peaceful moment. Before he lies down, you pull him down for a chaste kiss, savoring the way his lips taste, the way his patchy mustache tickles your face. As he finally moves to lay down, you wordlessly motion for him to lie on his stomach, and he complies. He settles onto the bed, propping himself up with his forearms.

You retrieve a bottle of oil from a nearby table, and the gentle scent of lavender fills the air as you warm the liquid between your palms. You straddle his lower back, and immediately Din is biting his tongue to withhold any premature sounds.

The moment your hands come into contact with his broad shoulders, he's a goner. Your touch is firm yet tender, your fingers finding all of his knots and tension, coaxing them to release.

The room is quiet, save for the occasional satisfied hum or grunt from Din. As your hands move down his back, tracing the contours of his muscles, you slowly feel the tension in his body dissipating.

Your fingers trace the faint lines of his scars, and you can't help but marvel at the beauty of the man beneath you. He finds solace in your touch, a promise that in this moment, he can let go and just relax.

Din's body responds to your touch, his tension gradually melting away. Your hands move with a soothing rhythm, exploring every inch of his back and shoulders. The oil makes his skin glisten in the soft light of the room, and you revel in the way his body looks as though it was carved by the Maker himself.

As your hands work their way down his spine, you occasionally lean down to press soft kisses on his back. The combination of your mouth and hands on him causes Din to shudder, the sensations pulling him into a deep state of tranquility. The rise and fall of his breath shifts into something more rapid, yet you don't catch on quite yet. You lean down, pressing a soft kiss to the nape of his neck, and he responds with a soft hum of contentment

Shifting off his back, you move down to his thighs and calves, continuing to massage his muscles with the same deliberate care. His fingers twist into the thin sheets of his bed, groaning as you knead into his thighs. The tension in Din's muscles seems to subside even more as you move farther down his legs, the oil dripping from your hands creating a smooth glide as you knead his skin.

As your hands move down his legs towards his feet, you notice the subtle tremor in his muscles, a sign that your touch might be affecting him more than he's letting on. You can't see that he's biting the inside of his cheek, stifling every pathetic groan he wants to let out.

You reach the soles of his feet, and he reflexively curls his toes at the sensation. A small chuckle escapes your lips, and you gently press your thumbs into the arches of his feet, eliciting a low, appreciative groan from him.

With a soft smile, you decide to shift the massage to his upper back and shoulders again, allowing your hands to linger in the areas that are the most tense from his heavy beskar. As your fingers work their magic, you lean in close to whisper in his ear.

"Almost done," you murmur, your warm breath sending shivers down his spine. "Does it feel good?"

Din responds with a throaty, affirmative noise, and you can't help but smile at the effect you're having on your typically stoic Mandalorian.

Your hands trace patterns over his skin, kneading, massaging, and occasionally trailing higher than expected. His breathing becomes more uneven, and you can feel the heat radiating from his body.

The atmosphere in the room drastically changes from innocent and relaxed to something more sultry, the air thick with repressed tension. You can sense Din's arousal, the subtle shifts in his breathing, the way his muscles tense beneath your every little touch. A playful smile crosses your lips, realizing the effect you're having on the usually composed man.

The occasional brush of your fingers against more sensitive areas elicits involuntary reactions from Din, his groans growing more audible.

"Enjoying this, aren't you?" you tease, your voice a sultry whisper as you lean down to place soft kisses along his shoulder blades.

"Teasing me, aren't you?" he growls back, looking back at you with a heated expression.

"Maybe a little." You smile innocently. "But the best things are worth the wait, aren't they?"

Din responds with a low, husky chuckle, a sound that reverberates through the room.

"Yes," he states simply, his voice catching in his throat when you slide off his back.

You beckon him to turn over onto his back, and he complies. Once again, you straddle him, now sitting directly on his hips, over his crotch. Taking more lavender scented oil, you lather it onto your hands and start to knead into his chest. His hands reach up to grip your ass, squeezing your flesh.

You feel Din's chest rise and fall faster as your hands start to work over his toned muscles. The oil slicks up his chest, and your fingers glide smoothly over his skin. You can practically feel his desire for you that simmers beneath the surface, threatening to boil over. Din's gaze is intense, and you meet it with a playful yet innocent smile.

"Fuck, cyare," he groans as his hands trail up your sides, the touch possessive yet gentle.

As your hands continue their ministrations on his chest, you lean down to capture his lips in a searing kiss. The taste of his mouth is intoxicating, and Din responds with a hunger that surpasses your own. His hands tighten on your hips, pulling you to grind you down over his crotch, and you can feel the pressure of his cock against your core.

"Easy there, Din," you murmur as you pull away from his lips. "We've got plenty of time."

The sound of his name rolling off your lips never gets old to him, and he shudders at the sound.

You sit back, your hands now trailing down his abdomen as you move to sit in between his thighs. Grabbing his hands, you knead into his palms with your thumbs, maintaining an eye contact that you know drives him absolutely crazy. Din's eyes are dark with arousal, and he watches you with a hunger that sends shivers down your spine.

Eventually, you finish the massage after you feel the tension fully dissipate from Din's body. He lies there, relaxed and content, basking in the afterglow of your touch.

Without waiting any longer, you finally give the man what he wants. You bring his hand up to your mouth, and without hesitation, you stick two of his fingers in your mouth. Your tongue swirls around his thick digits as you maintain eye contact with him, eliciting a low growl to escape from the depths of Din's throat.

"You- you fuckin' tease, mesh'la," he growls as he starts to sit up. You take your free hand and push him back down, not letting him sit up.

You push his fingers deeper into your mouth, sucking them harder as your tongue runs over the pads of his fingers. Your other hand comes up to his thigh, resting dangerously close to his now fully erect yet still clothed cock.

After a moment, you release his fingers with a wet pop, a mischievous glint in your eyes. Din's breathing has become more ragged, his chest rising and falling rapidly with anticipation and arousal.

"Feeling better?" you ask innocently, sliding your hands up and down his thighs.

Din nods, swallowing thickly as he locks his eyes onto yours. Without breaking eye contact, you start to slide off your shirt, slowly revealing your skin beneath. Din's gaze intensifies as you slowly lift it up and off your form. Once your shirt is fully off, you let Din rove over your form, and you revel in the way he looks at you with a thirst that mirrors your own.

He tries to reach out for you again, but you stop him.

"I'm still not done. Be patient," you say gently, wiggling your eyebrows at him.

"Mesh'la, how can I be? I have to reward you; you've been so good to me, too good for me—"

You press a finger up to his lips, silencing him.

"Please, let me make you feel good. Please. You always take care of me. Let me take care of you. 'M gonna make you feel so good."

He takes a beat, studying your face with his mouth slightly agape.

Finally, he nods in agreement, his eyes on fire. You remove your finger from his lips, giving him a sickeningly sweet smile.

Your hands trail over his shiny, slick chest, down to the waistband of his boxers. Din's fingers twist in his bedsheets, a silent reaction for what he wants: more.

With deliberate intent, you dip your fingers beneath the waistband, teasingly close to his cock. His arousal is quite evident, straining against the fabric, and your fingers brush over his length; a feather light, teasing touch. He watches you with a hunger that's impossible to ignore, and you can't help but feel giddy at the way you make him feel so good, so appreciated, so loved.

Din inhales sharply, his knuckles going white at the grip he has on his sheets. You move your hands back up and delicately hook your fingers into the waistband, pulling it down slowly. The boxers slide down his legs, revealing his cock, and you discard the fabric on the floor.

You take a moment to appreciate your Mandalorian naked in front of you, vulnerable, and yet as powerful as ever in his raw masculinity. What a sight for sore eyes. Every square inch of his skin is coated in the lavender oil, his skin shining under the dim lighting of the Razor Crest. His body is sculpted perfectly, strong and lean, the power of his muscles evident from one look. The scars that span his skin, small and large, have their own story. You reach out, tracing the lines of a particularly prominent scar on the side of his abdomen with gentle fingertips.

Din studies you with a soft intensity, his eyes holding a warmth that he reserves for you, and only for you.

Your eyes trail up to his face, studying every lineament and pore, every little hair and freckle. He's so extremely handsome you could pass out.

How he chose you, you're not sure. All you know is that this man who has promised to be your protector, stay by your side, and be your partner loves you, and you love him.

"You're beautiful," you murmur, pure admiration coursing through your veins as your fingers now trace the curve of his jaw and the contour of his lips. "Absolutely perfect, in every single way. My big, strong, handsome riduur."

Din's mind goes blank, face and ears heating up as his mouth falls agape. He just studies your eyes, your lips, your nose, every little unique feature you have. Swallowing thickly, Din nods his head just a fraction of an inch, but you catch it; he's acknowledging your words, accepting them in his own way.

Your fingers finally find their way down the shaft of his cock, shifting your attention to his member. His breath hitches as your hand wraps around the base, and you begin to move in a slow, teasing rhythm. His eyes flicker to the sight of your hand wrapped around his cock, staring at the way you pump your fist up and down. Your thumb brushes over the sensitive tip, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from Din.

You lean in, pressing a tender kiss to the base of his neck, then to his chest. You start to kiss down further, from the top of his chest to his happy trail.

"Kriff..." he mutters, his hands loosely grabbing at your face.

You keep moving, now pressing kisses on the length of his member. His grip becomes sloppier as your lips trail down his cock towards the tip, pressing a feather light kiss on his leaking slit. He grunts as the sensation, sensitive and aching for your pretty lips to be wrapped around his cock. You give a swirl of your tongue around the tip, earning a sharp, deep moan from Din.

"Kriffing- perfect," he groans, his hips bucking a few times at your touch, begging you for more. His fingers weave through your hair, a silent encouragement.

With that, you finally lower your mouth over his cock, eliciting a long, drawn out moan from the man. You rest your hands on the base of his cock, pumping the bottom half of his length while your mouth takes the top half. Din absolutely revels in the way your mouth feels against his cock; hot, wet, and velvety soft. His head rolls back against his pillow as your hands squeeze tight around the base, stimulating every inch of his length. You take him in your mouth inch by inch, sucking his cock gently at first, but providing more pressure the farther down you go.

"Fuck— fuck- ing perfect, pretty girl," he groans breathlessly, making you hum in satisfaction. His hips involuntarily buck up as he feels the vibrations from your hum, causing the tip of his cock to poke the back of your throat. You choke on it, but you steady your breath enough to keep going down.

Din fights the urge to fuck your mouth, gripping onto his sheets tightly with one hand as his other hand tugs at your hair. You release a quiet moan of your own when he pulls your hair, encouraging you to take him deeper.

Din's eyes are half-lidded now, a primal need burning within them. He watches you with an intensity that makes your own desire flare. His sounds of pleasure, the way his hands feel on you has yourself throbbing with need, your core painfully clenching around nothing. Your panties are surely soaked through by now, your arousal having built up just by making him feel good. You press your thighs together, alleviating the throbbing pressure in your pussy.

You continue to move with purpose, lowering your hands to knead his oily thighs as you take his entire length in your mouth, the tip of cock hitting the back of your throat with each bob of your head. You suck your cheeks in, running your tongue along a prominent vein with each stroke.

His ragged breaths and the soft squelch of your saliva and mouth on his cock fill the room, and suddenly, Din is pawing at you. The need for more becomes undeniable, and Din, unable to restrain himself any longer, pulls you up with a sense of urgency.

"Wanna- come in you—" he gasps, pulling at your neck.

You press your thighs tighter together at his admission, moaning on his cock.

"Kriff, cyar'ika, j- just, please," he grunts, and you lift your head off his cock, saliva dripping down your chin.

When you finally look up at him, his eyes are blown wide with need, and he's fully sitting up now. You feel the sudden shift as he drags you onto his lap, his still erect cock pressing into your stomach. You push up onto your knees as Din's hand desperately claws at the hem of your pants, yanking both your pants and panties off at the same time as he mouths the tops of your still covered breasts. Once your bottoms are off, he unclasps your bra expertly, letting it fall to the side.

Once you're bare in front of him, he laps his tongue over your breast, sucking at your nipple as his other hand squeezes and massages your other. The sensation send an electric jolt through your body, and a soft moan escapes your lips. Din's touch is both possessive and tender, his free hand coming to knead the flesh of your ass.

In one solid motion, Din is lifting you up high by your hips, positioning you over his cock. Utterly desperate and aching for your cunt around his cock, he slams your hips down, splitting you open on his cock inside your dripping cunt. Your hands fly up to his shoulders, a warbled scream and moan slipping from the both of you as he plunges deep inside of you, filling you up perfectly. You give yourself a moment to breath, steadying your breath. When he rolls his hips once, you whimper.

"Maker, y- you feel so good," you moan, biting your bottom lip in pleasure.

You squeeze his cock tightly, back arching as you feel every ridge of his cock inside you. His hands squeeze your hips tightly as your hands run down to his chest, and you start placing open mouthed, messy kisses on his jawline and neck. He lets you adjust around him, giving you some time to feel his cock molded perfectly inside you.

"Take me so good...s- so kriffing p- perfect, my beautiful riduur," he growls, fondling your breasts as you sit on his cock. Your thighs press against his as you try to clench your thighs at his words, darting your tongue out to give his skin kitten licks.

Ever so slowly, you start to roll your hips against his, moaning at the sensation. Din hisses, forehead falling on your sternum, his hot breath fanning against your breasts.

"Riduur," he groans again, darting his tongue out over the tops of your breasts again. "Ride me."

Your hands find their way into his dark curls, tugging at them lightly as you start to lift yourself up his cock. The drag of your pussy against Din's cock makes him shudder in pure ecstasy, moving his head to rest in the crook of your neck.

"You- you're the best thing that's e- ever happened to me," you whisper in his ear, then you sink all the way back down on his cock.

He moans, sucking bruises onto the junction between your shoulder and neck. Din's face is flushed from your words and the way you feel on top of him. You lift yourself up a few inches and drop back down, relishing in the way he feels underneath you.

"Never thought I'd find s- someone like you, cyare," he admits in his gravelly voice, tightening his grip on you. "Someone I- I could c- come back to."

"You're m- my home, Din," you reply, your voice a breathy whisper.

You start to set a steady pace, rocking and grinding on his cock. Din grunts at the sudden change in pace, helping you up and off his cock as his broad hands help lift you up and down by your hips. With each bounce, his cock stretches you out deliciously, dragging along your slick walls with ease.

You move your hand down to your catch your clit, circling the bud slowly, building up the pressure bubbling in your core. Your back arches as you start to tease yourself, pussy clenching harder around his cock. Din's head is thrown back in pleasure, hands firmly on your hips as you keep bouncing, reveling in the way you squeeze slightly tighter around him.

Your walls start to flutter around him at the stimulation of your clit, picking up the pace as you chase your orgasm. You lock eyes with his, the rhythm of your hips against his causing him to paw at every square inch of your body.

With your free hand, you guide his strong jaw towards your face, capturing his lips in a searing, passionate kiss. You don't stop moving on top of his cock as you slip your tongue into his mouth, sucking and nibbling on his bottom lip with each kiss. His lips are warm and demanding against yours, responding with a fervor that has you leaning back.

The taste of Din is intoxicating, yet something you can never quite put your finger on. His low growls mix with your soft moans, your hands threading in his curls.

Din breaks the kiss, but rests his forehead on yours. His pants mingle with yours, warm breath tickling your nose.

"Can't believe I'm so lucky," Din grits, and without hesitation, he deftly maneuvers you until you're lying on your back.

You admire the way his chest heaves with a controlled intensity as he hovers over you, his cock still fully sheathed inside you to the hilt. Moving his hands, he presses your legs up against your chest, angling them in such a way to allow for a deeper penetration. The newfound angle sends waves of pleasure coursing through each of you, each movement building up the pressure in your lower muscles.

"Maker, Din," is all you can say as his cock reaches deeper inside you. You're utterly engrossed in everything about him; how perfectly he fucks you, how he protects you, how he always puts others before himself, how he never backs down from a challenge.

You watch as his mouth drops open when he starts to move again, pounding into you with a slow, measured pace. Every motion has your hot, soaking walls sucking him in greedily.

"Fuck me so perfectly, you're perfect," you murmur as Din pulls your legs up onto his hips, effectively spreading you wide open. His whole chest presses flush against yours, kissing your words away when he leans in.

Your hands fly down to grip his forearms that cage you under his body, nails pressing into his skin as he fucks you slowly. Each thrust is met with a soft whimper into Din's mouth as he takes his time, relishing the way your chest feels against his own. The measured pace of his movements builds a heavy tension in your core, drawing out the pleasure and anticipation with each deliberate stroke.

Din's hand finds your clit again, pressing his thick digits against your swollen bud. The added pressure sends electric pulses through your body, and your back arches involuntarily as the pleasure intensifies. Your pussy clenches around his cock, drawing a throaty groan from Din, who revels in the tight embrace of your walls.

"So strong, s- so good," you gasp, your words punctuated by your unrestrained sounds of pleasure.

"S' perfect, cyare," he murmurs against your lips breathlessly, pressing a kiss on your lips once again. He nips and bites at your bottom lip relentlessly. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling his face closer to you as you mewl into his mouth. Your fingers find their way back into his soft hair, scratching your fingernails on the base of his scalp.

With each enthusiastic response from you, he quickens his pace, the unforgiving rhythm pushing you both closer to the edge.

The feeling of his cock moving inside you faster and harder elicits a cascade of moans and whimpers from your lips, your clit being stimulated nearly to the point of your impending release. He's fucking you hard into the mattress, unrelenting in the way he wants to feel every part of you.

Din, ever the attentive man, knows you're about to cum just from the way your face contorts, from the way your body reacts to the slightest touch.

You can also feel him nearing the edge, the tension in his body reaching its peak with each stroke. His skin is warm and still slick with the lavender-scented oil, intoxicating your senses and making your mind go blank.

"Please, come in me," you beg, wrapping your legs around Din's waist to pull him closer to you. "Please, please, Din."

His skin glides against yours, your hands travel across the expanse of his back, feeling the flex of his muscles as he moves with unrestrained strength.

Din's eyebrows are pinched in pleasure, mouth parted open as he pants. His fingers find the sweet spot of your clit, causing you to nearly scream in pleasure.

"That's it," Din encourages, coaxing your orgasm out of you as he maintains the pressure around your sweet spot.

Before you know it, you're cumming around Din's cock. The first contraction of your cunt around his cock has Din shuddering from his own orgasm, the feelings of your muscles spasming around him pushing him over the edge. His breathing is erratic, hot against your skin.

You writhe underneath Din, whimpering his name as you ride out your orgasm. Din pulls you in for a messy kiss as he cums inside of you, cupping your jaw with one hand as he guides your lips to his in a searing kiss.

Settling down from his orgasm, Din falls on top of you, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

Your hands run up and down his back, soothing him with the light scratching of your nails against his skin.

The gentle scratching of your nails against Din's back seems to lull him into a state of relaxation, his body going lax on top of yours. His breath and mustache tickles the sensitive flesh of your neck.

Both of you are still panting, trying to catch your breaths from your shared climax. Din's weight atop of you feels grounding, a comforting, welcoming presence that reminds you once again that he is yours.

"Feel better?" you inquire softly, your hands coming to rest around his neck.

Din lifts his head, his eyes meeting yours with a tenderness he reserves only for you.

Din mumbles in agreement, his body completely pliant in your hands. His chest rises and falls in a steady rhythm, the remnants of his panting gradually subsiding.

"Thank you," he murmurs, eyes studying your face intently. "Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum."

Your fingers move from his neck to gently trace lines over Din's flushed cheeks, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

"I love you."

Din's eyes soften even more. His hands, calloused and strong, come up to gently cradle your face. Thumbs brush over your cheeks in a tender caress, as if he's committing the feeling to memory.

He pulls you in for another kiss, a sweet, tender meeting of your lips in the aftermath of your care for him.

A thank you, if you will.

As Din's lips part from yours, he rests his forehead against yours, and you can feel the warmth of his breath mingling with yours.

You snuggle close to him, the scent of lavender surrounding you both. In the quiet aftermath, the only sound that remains is the beating of your hearts.

. . .

Din Djarin (The Mandalorian) Masterlist

[kaminokatieemoved]

Insatiable || Din Djarin

Synopsis - After seeing you with Grogu, Din realises he's in love with you.

Warnings - NSFW. Breeding Kink. Inexperienced!Din. Experienced!Reader. Fingering (F! Receiving). Unprotected P In V Sex.

Fancy Buying Me A Coffee?

Commissions are OPEN.

You had only known Din for a short period of time, no longer than five weeks, but the chemistry between the two of you was unrivalled. The actions between you were just so natural, it was as if you had known each other forever. You had met during his time apart from Grogu, and had heard stories of his previous travel companion as you lay in bed, bodies intertwined as Din played with locks of your hair between his gloved fingers. You would always admit that you wished you could have met him and Din would always exclaim that Grogu would have loved you before bending down to press his helmet against your exposed forehead: a Mandalorian kiss. You'd fall asleep like this only to wake up a few hours later alone, wishing Din was still by your side.

When Grogu returned to Din you knew he was happy, elated even. "Grogu, this is Y/N," Din introduced you, as all three of you boarded the Razor Crest. It was safe to say that Grogu took an instant liking to you, making a simple 'patu' noise and jumping up onto your chest.

"Hey there Grogu," you cooed stroking his little head under your fingers gently. You heard Grogu 'patu' once more and a modulated chuckle come from Din.

"I think he likes you," he said. You couldn't see his face, but you knew he was smiling underneath his helmet. You nodded in agreement as you gazed into Grogu's black eyes, a smile gracing your lips.

That was a few weeks ago. Now you sat on the floor of the Razor Crest playing with Grogu. You were hoping to have him show you and Din some of The Force abilities he had learned during his time with the Jedi, but he was rather shy about it. With that being said, you opted to just rolling around the small, shiny metal ball Grogu seemed to love so much. Din watched from the corner of the Crest. He was lounging against the wall as he watched the two of you, his heart swelling bigger as he saw the smile on your face grow with each passing of the ball. You occasionally cooed at Grogu, hoping he knew you were praising him for doing such a good job, and Grogu did his usual 'patu' back to you.

As he watched you, Din's mind began to wonder. Seeing you act so loving and caring towards Grogu made him think of how perfect a mother you'd be. He had no doubt in his mind that you'd be so maternal towards another baby. His mind then began to wonder further, where would another baby even come from? Unless you and he... No, that was a stupid idea. Sure, you engaged in the occasional flirty banter with each other and slept in the same bed, cuddling like an old married couple, but you had too... right? You had too. Din nodded to himself slowly and found his gaze lowering to your stomach. He couldn't help but think how perfect you'd look all pretty and big with his child.

Din cursed himself mentally and turned away from the two of you, squeezing his eyes shut to try and get the image of you pregnant out of his head. Alas, it was no use. He had barely heard you call to him. "Din? Are you okay?" Your smooth voice came from behind him.

Din panicked, turning around quickly to see you stood in front of him with Grogu on your hip. You bounced the youngling up and down as if soothing him whilst he toyed with the metal ball you had been playing with. Din coughed to himself before answering. "I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" You asked, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I don't need to see your face to know when something's wrong, love."

It wasn't unusual for you to use pet names for him like love and sweetheart. They were terms of endearment you had used your whole life, and so Din opted not to look too much into them for the sake of his own sanity. Shaking his head visibly this time, he changed the subject. "We're changing course."

"Oh?" You questioned, looking down at Grogu before looking up into his helmet. "Where are we going?"

"Mos Eisley," Din replied. Before you could even ask why you were headed to Tatooine, he continued talking, answering your question before it even left your lips. "The ship is in need of some repairs, and I have a friend that will be happy to see Grogu."

You nodded and looked down at Grogu once more who yawned. "I'm going to put him to bed," you said softly, motioning down to the green life form who's eyes were slowly fluttering closed. You turned slowly on your heels before walking to the cockpit to put Grogu in his carrier. Din slammed the wall of the Crest frustratedly and muttered under his breath once he knew you were out of earshot. He knew he shouldn't be thinking about you like that, shouldn't be thinking about breeding you, but how could he not when you were so so good to him. After a few moments of sitting with his thoughts, Din decided to follow you up to the cockpit and man the controls until you reached Mos Eisley.

The trip itself didn't take long, but to be honest you were asleep for most of it. You had settled Grogu down and taken a seat next to Din's piloting chair and before you knew it, had drifted off. "We're here," Din said placing a hand on your shoulder, snapping you out of your light sleep.

"Already?" You asked as your eyes fluttered open. You rubbed your eyes with your fists to gauge the remaining sleep out of them before standing up. Grogu was stood next to your chair, looking up at you as if waiting for you to stand up. "Hey little guy," you smiled standing up when you were ready. Din watched from the corner of his eye as Grogu lifted his hands up to you, signalling that he wanted to be picked up. You giggled and obliged, picking the youngling up and placing him on his new favourite position: your hip, before walking out of the Razor Crest with Din.

When you exited the Razor Crest, you were met by a handful of droids all walking around the ship. "Mando!" A woman's voice came. Her voice oozed surprise and excitement. "Here for some repairs?" She asked, coming into your vision. She didn't spot you at first since you were walking behind Din, but when she did her eyes immediately dropped to Grogu on your hip. "Oh my stars! He's back!" She said excitedly, running over to you. You hadn't met this woman before, but if Din trusted her then so did you.

"Do you want to hold him?" You asked politely.

"Boy do I ever!" She grinned, holding her arms out for Grogu to go to her. He did so quickly, but looked at you first for reassurance. "My name is Peli Motto. It's lovely to meet you."

"It's lovely to meet you too. My name is Y/N," you said with a smile, watching as Grogu cooed at the woman.

"I was hoping you could do me favour," Din said suddenly, stepping in between the two of you and interrupting your pleasantries. Peli opened her mouth to ask what the favour was, but Din beat her to it. "Could you watch the kid for me? Just for a day." You looked at Din with a confused facial expression. You were about to ask why you couldn't watch him, feeling slightly rejected, but Din held your hand and squeezed it lightly. "I want to show Y/N something."

Your eyes widened and a blush spread across your cheeks as his gloved fingers laced with your own. Peli didn't miss this detail and smirked knowingly. "For this little guy, I'd do anything," she said before blowing raspberries on his stomach.

"Great, thank you Peli," Din said softly before dragging you away.

"Din, I really should say goodbye. What if he thinks we're not coming back?" You said worriedly as he dragged you along and out of the view of Peli and Grogu.

"Don't worry. He know's we're coming back," Din replied. As he guided you outside the spaceport, there was a speeder conveniently placed. "This will do," Din said to himself. "Sit on the back and hold on to me tightly. I don't want you falling off and hurting yourself."

You nodded and sat on the back of the speeder, waiting for Din to climb on so you could wrap you arms around his beskar covered torso. As soon as he climbed onto the speeder, you were zooming off across the sands of Tatooine with no idea where you were going. You couldn't help but think about Grogu. This was the first time you had ever been apart since you had met and you found yourself worrying. You knew he was in safe hands with Peli: if Din trusted her with the kid, then so did you.

As the speeder bike slowed down outside a tavern, you eyed the place suspiciously before looking to Din. "This is what you wanted to show me?" You asked, unimpressed. You couldn't hide your annoyance as he stepped off the speeder and pulled you close to him, helping you off.

"Yeah," he said gruffly, taking you by the hand once again and leading you in. He walked up to the bar and flashed a few credits at the bartender. "One room please."

"Double or single bed?" The bartended asked, eyeing Din up.

"It doesn't matter," Din replied. He wasn't planning on going to sleep tonight.

"Room 204," the bartender said, handing Din over the key. He nodded thankfully and dragged you to the stairs, leading you up them carefully.

When you arrived at room 204 Din opened the door and dragged you inside, slamming the door behind you. You jumped in shock as you looked around the room. It wasn't much to look at. It was fairly run down and the furniture was obviously old and tattered. There was a rather small double bed located in the middle of the room, pressed up against the wall, and on either side were worn nightstands. You turned around to chastise Din for bringing you here, but came fave-to-face with his beskar breastplate. You looked up to meet his gaze, knowing he was looking down on you and you couldn't help but feel your face heat up. As intimidating as he was, you always felt safe around him.

"You wanted us to have a night away from Grogu?" You asked, tilting your head in confusion. "Why?"

"Not a night," Din shook his head. "Just a few hours, unless you want to stay here all night."

"I want to go back to Grogu," you replied honestly. You were getting antsy not knowing how he was doing.

Din noticed your uneasiness and placed his gloved hands on your shoulders, massaging them softly. "Relax Y/N, he'll be fine." With those words, he placed his helmet against your forehead and gazed longingly into your eyes, trailing down to your lips. Oh how he yearned to kiss you, even if it was just once.

"What are we doing here Din?" You asked quietly, looking into his visor. "What did you want to show me?"

"What are we doing Y/N?" Din asked suddenly after a few seconds of silence. He disregarded your questions with his own as he slowly massaged your shoulders.

You blinked up at him in confusion. "What do you mean?" You asked.

A modulated sigh came from his helmet. "How long are we going to pretend there isn't something between us?" He said suddenly, forcing your face to heat up in embarrassment. He began walking forwards, causing you to back up until the back of your legs came into contact with the edge of the bed. You dropped down onto the bed and propped yourself up on your elbows as Din stared down at you. He was breathing heavily and you could see from the way his chest was rising and falling. You couldn't deny what he was saying though and you certainly couldn't deny your feelings any longer. Especially not when he loomed over you like this. "Do you know how crazy it drives me to see you with the kid?" Din asked, tilting his head to the side. He waited patiently for your answer, but your answer never came. "You're just so perfect Y/N. Can't you see that I'm in love with you?"

"I-I couldn't be sure of it," you whispered softly. Your heart was beating so hard in your chest as Din pushed you down onto the bed so you were lay flat on your back. He crawled on top of you, straddling you. "I didn't want to say anything in case you didn't feel the same."

"You think I wouldn't feel the same about you?" He asked, sounding almost surprised. "Every little thing you do drives me crazy. The kid was the line in the sand."

"What do you mean?" You asked, breathing heavily.

"Seeing how you act with the kid," Din started. "It-It does something to me."

"Oh yeah?" You asked, biting your bottom lip slightly. "What does it do to you. Tell me."

Din thought for a moment before speaking. "It makes me want you," he whispered huskily. "Badly."

"Oh really?" You questioned, your voice low and sultry. "Is that why we're here, Din? Because you want me?"

He couldn't help but gulp as your hands made their way up to his beskar breastplate, smoothing over the cold substance. "I do want you," He whispered, his hands shaky and hovering just above your breasts.

"It's okay Din," you cooed softly. "You can touch me." Your voice was confident and strong, almost demanding that the Mandalorian lower his hands onto your breasts. He gave you a small nod before slowly lowering his hands onto your chest, earning a slight squeak from you. His hands were so large, they cupped your breasts with ease. He began kneading them softly, watching as your mouth opened wide relishing in the feeling.

"Is this okay?" Din asked softly, glad you couldn't see his face at the current moment in time. His face was red, his mouth opened into an 'o' shape and his eyes were glued to his hands on your chest.

"This is fine," you smiled at him gently, but your eyebrow raised as the Mandalorian continued his movements. You grabbed one of his wrists with your hand and moved it away from your chest, before pulling your shirt down to expose your bra. Din felt his mouth dry up as he admired the way your flesh filled the padded item of clothing. "Go on Din, touch me."

"Are you sure?" He asked wearily, after all, he didn't want to force you into doing anything you didn't want to do. Truth be told, he was surprised the two of you were in this situation - even though he dragged you here with the full intention on admitting his feelings for you. You simply nodded to him and puffed up your chest, Din's hands caressing your breasts once more. You let out a soft sigh as he kneaded your mounds slowly. "Feel good?" He asked.

You nodded once more and smiled up into his helmet. "You can squeeze them you know," you pointed out. Din acknowledged your critique and began to squeeze at your flesh in-between kneading. You let out a slight moan in response to his squeezes. This was nice, yeah, but you wanted more. You heard Din's modulated shaky breath as he continued his motions, his eyes glued to the way your tits filled the palms of his hand. Without warning, he pulled your bra up above your chest and began to play with your stiffening buds, twirling them and tugging them between his fingers. You arched your back and let out a gasp of his name. "Din."

"Do you like that?" He asked, voice shaky with arousal.

"Yes," you whispered biting your bottom lip and looked down to watch as he played with your nipples. "Feels good."

"Good baby, good," Din whispered to you. He rested his helmet against your forehead as he continued to pull, pinch and squeeze. You could feel your core getting wetter by the second as you gazed into his helmet. You bucked your hips up against Din's, desperate to gain some friction between your legs. He seemed to get the hint and trailed one of his hands down to between your legs, palming at your trouser-covered crotch.

You smirked and decided to tease the Mandalorian, pushing him away from you lightly. "Are we just going to do over the clothes stuff or are you going to put your hands down my pants and touch my pussy?" The words just slipped, you never meant them to be so crude.

Din wasn't expecting you to say something like that either and coughed nervously. "Is that what you want?" He asked, hoping you would say yes.

"If you don't, I will," you replied, rolling your eyes playfully. Din took a gloved hand and manoeuvred his way through the tight constraints of your pants, not daring to dip inside your underwear yet. He could feel the heat radiating off your cunt through the thin fabric and his mouth couldn't help but water. His gloved fingers circled your cloth-covered clit and you arched your back in response, a groan emitting from your throat. "Oh Maker."

"Do you like that?" Din asked soothingly. His modulated voice always put you at ease no matter what situation you were in. You nodded quickly, bucking your hips up again. "You're eager, aren't you? Don't worry princess, we have all night."

You moaned at his words and rolled your eyes back into your head. He sounded so delicious. "Can Mandalorians have...sex?" You asked suddenly.

Din let out a chuckle as he continued to circle your clit slowly. "Of course, as long as my helmet stays on."

"Oh," you replied. You weren't sure what you were expecting him to say. "Have you ever...?"

Din shook his head in response, burying his helmet covered face into the crook of your neck as he dipped a finger around the crotch area of your panties. He slicked a finger up your folds and groaned at how wet you were. "Maker Y/N. You're dripping."

"It's what you do to me," you laughed. Din took your laugh as a comfort and plunged his gloved finger inside of your cunt quickly, a moan escaping your lips. "Oh Maker," you whined. While one of Din's hands still worked at kneading your breast and playing with your nipple, the other began fingering you slowly, curling his fingers deliciously at your sweet spot. It wasn't long before Din was inserting a second finger into you, his pace speeding up. "Oh Maker Din, if you keep going I'm gonna cum," you warned him.

"Good," he grunted, fingers pounding into your cunt relentlessly. You let out a cry as you came, vision spotting white as your orgasm washed over you. Your legs began to shake violently underneath Din. He let out a little chuckle as you grasped onto his shoulders, almost as if you were grounding yourself. When your body stopped convulsing, Din removed his fingers from your cunt with a pop and trailed his hand up to your mouth. "Open," he whispered softly. You obliged, opening your mouth. Din placed his two fingers into your mouth. You sucked slowly, staring into his helmet seductively. Din groaned as your tongue lapped up the juices off of his fingers, his eyes rolling to the back of his head with pleasure. "I need you Y/N," he said slowly as he removed his fingers from your mouth.

"I need you too Din," you whimpered.

He nodded at you before climbing off of you, quickly removing the bottom part of his armour. His codpiece fell to the floor with a thud, and you squeezed your legs together tightly in anticipation. You watched with wide eyes as his cock came into sight. Boy was he big. Bigger than you had ever imagined and definitely bigger than you had ever had. His plush-pink tip breaded pre-cum and he stood to attention, watching as you marvelled at him. "Is it okay?" He asked somewhat nervously.

"Perfect," you managed to whisper. You shifted yourself so you were on your knees in front of him and were about to slowly lower your mouth onto his cock, but Din moved back slightly shaking his head. "Is everything okay?" You asked, tilting your head to the side.

"Yes, I just want to be inside you," was all he said, pushing you back onto the bed. You fell backwards with a slight thud and giggled as Din crawled back on top of you, his cock hitting the side of your thigh as he did.

"I want you Din," you whimpered as he slicked his tip up your folds, collecting the wetness to lubricate his cock. He continually nodded at you as he slowly pushed his way into your tight cunt, a string of curse words leaving his lips. He had settled half-way, almost too nervous to continue on. But your soft whimpers of pleasure had swayed him, forcing him to push into you completely. Now fully sheathed inside of you, Din remained still, unsure of what to do next. Should he give you a moment to adjust? Should he move his hips? As if you read his thoughts, you spoke softly. "You can move Din." Your voice was a whisper, a husky whisper as your legs wrapped around his covered torso. Obliging your request, Din began to move his hips slowly as if testing the waters. Almost instantly you began to moan, signalling that whatever he was doing, he was doing it right.

Din continued his languid movements, relishing in the feeling of your tight cunt around his cock. This was better than anything he'd ever felt in his entire life, and he was letting you know it. Din wasn't being quiet, he was moaning as he rested his head into the crook of your neck balancing himself on top of you as he thrusted into you. Your hands wrapped around his neck keeping yourself steady as you bounced forward from the force of his thrusts. "Oh Maker," Din moaned loudly, throwing his head back before looking down on you. He enjoyed watching you through his helmet, without feeling insecure. It had been a long time since someone had seen his face - what if you didn't find him attractive? Alas, he didn't have to think about that right now, if ever.

"Faster Din, please," you begged as you bit your bottom lip. He listened to your plea and began to quicken his pace, rutting into you faster than before. "Yes, oh Maker yes!" You cried out, squeezing your eyes shut tightly. The pleasure was all consuming as Din's pace sped up.

"Feel good baby?" He asked confidently. Although your moans were telling him how good he was doing, he wanted to hear you say it.

"Yes," you moaned, throwing your head back. Nails digging into the beskar across his back as Din continued to pound into your spongy walls. "Going to cum if you keep going Din, going to cum!"

"Oh yeah pretty girl?" Din cooed. You just nodded rapidly in response, earning a chuckle from the Mandalorian above. One of your hands dropped from his neck and lazily began to circle around your clit. You were desperate to cum again, to cum on his cock. "Cum for me baby. I know you can do it," and just like that, you were cumming undone. Your legs once again shaking as they loosened around Din's waist. "Oh Maker yes. I can feel you cumming."

"Din!" You cried out loudly, louder than you meant too. Your fingers stopped circling your clit as the feeling became too intense, biting your lip to stop the scream threatening to escape your throat.

"Fuck baby I'm going to fill you so good," Din whimpered into his helmet, his modulated voice sounding like music to your ears. "I'm going to fill you up with my babies Y/N. Please, please mother my children." He couldn't help but beg. You nodded desperately as your cunt clenched around his cock, and that was what sent him over the edge. With a few more staggered thrusts, he came inside you moaning your name over and over again. "Fuck," he grunted, thrusting a few more times before stilling himself.

He stayed inside of you for a few moments as the two of you caught your breath. Panting desperately for air, you began laughing. Din looked at you, tilting his head as if to say 'what's so funny'. You smirked at the Mandalorian and kissed the cheek of his helmet. "This was your plan? Take me to a shitty run down tavern and fuck your babies into me?" You snickered.

"Worked didn't it?" Din smiled to himself, pulling his softening cock out of you.

"I suppose so," you smiled, propping yourself up on your elbows as you watched him dress his lower half.

"Do you want to stay here tonight?" Din asked, watching you intensely.

You bit your lip and nodded. "I think I'd love that," you whispered. "But I'm not getting dressed."

"I don't object," he laughed, sitting down on the bed next to you. "I wish I could kiss you."

You frowned slightly before smiling at him. "I wish you could too, but I understand. Don't worry sweetheart."

Your words soothed him and he wasted no time in relaxing into you, holding you close to his body. You ignored the coldness of the beskar against your skin and closed your eyes, falling off into a deep slumber.

I don't know how I feel about this, but people really liked my last Din Djarin fic, so I thought I'd write another one.

In my feels for brooding Din, I think he'd make a great father.

Requests are CLOSED.

Commissions are OPEN.

[dracowars]

always a pleasure | din djarin

pairing: din x bountyhunter!reader

word count: 1,9k

summary: where y/n helps din escape

a/n: this one shot (my first for din!!!) is purely based on that one scene from the finale of the book of boba fett, because i’m that kind of person lmao

warnings: angst, violence

universe: star wars

(i forgot where i got the gif from, if this is yours, pls tell me!!)

It is always the same with Mandalorians, or should you rather say, with that one particular Mandalorian? Every time you meet again in this vast galaxy, he is in some kind of trouble – and obviously he is in trouble right now as well. You have already seen him coming from afar, followed by some creatures whose hatred, as so often, he has apparently aroused. Or maybe it was the small, green creature in his arms, the child he has been lovingly caring for for a while. You have met the two of them many times before and each time it turned out that everyone was after the kid. You, too, have encountered orders to capture the green creature, but chasing after an innocent child, no matter how high the bounty, is just not on your level.

In your previous encounters, you have often helped the two out, although the Mandalorian and you share a long history together. Because before he blossomed into a loving protector and father figure, he was always one step ahead of you, always stealing the bounty that was actually meant for you. You absolutely hated him for that and maybe you still do a little bit, but once you see him taking care of the child and doing everything in his might to protect it, you suddenly cannot hate him anymore.

In fact, your heart beats even faster the moment he rushes your way with his little green friend in his arms, a Trandoshan and two Quarren closely behind him, firing off shots that luckily miss their target. Quickly, you assess the situation: there is only little chance of escape for the two and they are slowly but surely being surrounded by more creatures emerging from the shadows. Screaming, the townspeople run into their houses, causing incredible chaos, but you keep a close eye on the Mandalorian. Without thinking about it twice, you finally sling your MK sniper rifle off your shoulder, aim it, and fire the first shot, leaving the Mandalorian with one less threat to worry about.

After your first shot is fired, everyone pauses in shock, looking in all directions to assess where the deadly shot was fired from. You use this moment to your advantage and eliminate one of the Quarren. Once pierced by your bullet, you loudly whistle to alert the Mandalorian of your position, which he understands immediately. Within seconds he launches his jetpack and comes gliding towards you, the pursuers slowly awakening from their state of shock and beginning to wildly shoot after them again.

“Well, what did you do this time?”, you playfully wink at him when he lands directly next to you so that you can now flee together on foot into the other direction. His little green friend immediately greets you with happy babbling when recognizing you, making you smile.

“What are you doing here?!”, the Mandalorian asks you a little out of breath, repeatedly firing one shot after the other behind you.

“Oh, you know. Just the usual”, you reply mischievously and draw your own blaster, which is always attached to your thigh and now much handier than your giant sniper rifle in this situation. With well-considered shots you now also shoot behind you, gradually eliminating your pursuers, but no matter how many of them you actually hit, they do not seem to become any less. “They are really targeting you both again, huh?”

“We have to get out of here as fast as possible, they can hit us far too easily here”, he replies immediately, ignoring your statement. Apparently, you are now an integral part of this mission and must see how to leave this planet in once piece.

“Oh, come on. You know me, Mando. I am well prepared for everything, as always”, you grin and lead him through several narrow alleys, that you carefully memorized before accepting this job, until you arrive at the edge of the town. A landspeeder is parked a few meters in front of you, the one that you rented specifically for your original mission, but you definitely have other things to worry about right now. “You are driving!”, you call out to the Mandalorian, abruptly stopping and turning to your pursuers, from whom you have gained at least a little more distance in the meantime. In a flash, you draw your sniper rifle again and fire several times before quickly heading towards the speeder that the Mandalorian has now launched, the child placed safely in his lap.

Energetically, you jump into the passenger seat and manage to hold on at the last moment as he immediately races away at full speed. The wind blows your hair around and severely restricts your vision.

“And where do we go now?!”, he asks angrily while you are still struggling with your hair.

“Keep going straight, we should be able to shake them off there-”, you explain, but are suddenly cut off when a blaster shot misses your head just by a few inches. Eyes wide, you turn to look behind you and are horrified to find that your pursuers have also organized landspeeders and are still hot on your heels.

“Okay, change of plans! Drive as close to obstructions as possible and it would be splendid if you could hold the speeder still so I can aim”, you command him and have already put your sniper rifle back on, which does not have to wait long to be used again and to successfully eliminate its target. However, it turns out to be much more difficult than expected to shoot from a moving vehicle at high speed at enemies who are also moving around, especially when someone does not have the speeder under control.

“That is not what I call holding still, Mando!”, you hiss at him, propping your knee on the passenger seat while keeping your other feet on the bottom of the speeder for better footing. “And make sure your little friend does not fall out!”

“Grogu.”

“What?”

“His name is Grogu.”

“Oh, so he actually has a name now?” you ask surprised, still trying to spot the enemies through your scope to give them the final blow. “Suits him. But I’d rather we get to know each other better later than when we are about to get blown up.”

“I will gladly introduce you to each other officially then”, he replies, and you can clearly hear the crooked grin under his helmet. It is amazing how easily he says that given the situation you are in right now. But his calmness somehow rubs off on you, just like it always does in each of your encounters. And suddenly you can concentrate better again and, despite the strong wobbling movements of the speeder, no longer miss your targets. Until only one speeder is chasing after you, which seems to be getting faster and faster.

“Can’t this thing go any faster?!”, you hear the Mandalorian swear under his breath, but just as he says this, you spot something through your scope that makes you gulp, transferring your whole body into a state of shock.

“Dodge!”, you scream out, but by then it is already too late. One of the remaining pursuers detonated a thermal detonator and threw it directly at you. He did it so fast you could not react at all and only felt it implode extremely close to your speeder, tearing it apart. You are thrown out of the exploding speeder in a high arc, a beeping noise in your ears from the explosion. However, while you are unable to do anything, the Mandalorian eventually launches his jetpack, thrusting himself toward the child and then to you, catching both of you just in time.

All of this happens in the split of a second and he severely hits the ground while Grogu and you softly land on top of him after he wrapped you in his arms to protect you from the violent impact. When you realize this, you look at him right away, hoping his Beskar armor eased the impact.

“Are you alright?!”, you ask worried, Grogu seeming just as worried as you, but then the Mandalorian raises his head while simultaneously raising his blaster, shooting the last pursuer who was not hit by the explosion and who suddenly appeared right behind you. Exhaling heavily, he lets his head fall back and only now do you realize that you were holding in your breath.

“Since when are you so unfocused?”, he then teases you, and despite the exhaustion in his voice, he almost seems like he finds it funny. Outraged by his statement – and inwardly ashamed that he is actually right – you lightly punch him on the breastplate of his armor. Although he probably does not feel much of it, you are more interested in bringing the gesture across than actually hurting him.

“I did not have to help you, you know?”, you say cockily, finally getting up after realizing you were still laying on top of him. Shaking your head, you take Grogu on your arm and give the Mandalorian a helping hand to pull him back to his feet. “I will always save you, but next time I will think twice about rescuing Mando”, you explain to the little one, who is watching you with his big doe eyes.

“You are right. Thank you very much for your help, I owe you something”, he admits when you hand his son over to him again, who immediately gets comfortable in his arms.

“Not necessary. It would only be nice if we could meet under normal circumstances for once and not always.. in situations like these”, you sigh theatrically, although you know that your words just contain wishful thinking. Both your lives are always fast paced, there is hardly a moment to calm down let alone spend time together.

“That would be nice actually”, he finally nods, which stuns you for a moment because you did not expect an answer like that. “By the way, you can call me Din. Now that you are calling Grogu by his name, it is only fair that you know mine, too. It is also better for scolding me in the future.”

“I- I-”, you suddenly stutter out, a very different reaction from what you are used to of yourself. However, you know exactly what a deep meaning lays behind his words. He revealed his identity to you, and he does not do that with anyone. You cannot help but feel extremely honored about this.

“Y/N, we have known each other for so long and yet you surprise me every time”, Din chuckles from under his helmet, Grogu following your conversation with fascination as you slowly make your way back to town by foot. “It is always a pleasure to work with you. Do you want us to take you somewhere with the Razor Crest?”

“N-No. It is fine. I still have a job to do here”, you politely reject his offer, not knowing how to feel about your heart hammering against your chest. “I am just glad that you are doing well, and that the danger has been averted, at least for the moment. I do not want anything to happen to Grogu after all.”

“Thank you again, Y/N. For everything”, he thanks you as you reach town, tilting his head slightly to give depth to his gratitude. “I hope we will meet again soon.”

“I hope so too. Goodbye, Din”, you smile at him, happily and maybe even a little shy, waving at the two of them as Grogu raises his tiny hand to say goodbye as well. “Take good care of him, Grogu, will you? And if you ever need me, you know where to find me.”

[sweetercalypso]

Pearl Rosary || Din Djarin

Word count: 1.7k

Summary: Priest of Mandalore!Din Djarin listens to your sins during confession

Notes: part three in my week of horror series! minors dni; public(ish) sex, finger sucking, deepthroating, cock worship, facial, reader is a Mandalorian who takes her helmet off, so much religious imagery

In the Cathedral of Mandalore, there’s only just enough light to make out the back of the wooden pew in front of you. The doors and windows are adorned with an ornate red glass that wash the chapel in a somber crimson gloom, a reminder that only those dedicated to their creedal faith are permitted inside.

The nave is silent beyond the occasional clink of beskar and the solemn bells ringing overhead in hourly intervals. You’d counted three resounding chimes, then four, then five, as the day stretches on outside the walls of the chapel.

In your tightly coiled spiral of pensive rumination, time seems to stand still.

Your eyes snap up as another Mandalorian passes by your aisle in their departure from the confessional. The small curtained booth at the front of the church has a strangely foreboding presence, and you’d been working up the courage to step inside all day.

The front doors close, and you’re left with your guilt once again.

If you admit to the thoughts weighing on your conscience, maybe you’ll have the chance to repent. Or, if the pit of dread in your stomach is any prediction, you’ll be cast out for your inclination towards a life of sin.

Before you can work up the nerve to decide whether to gamble your fate, the head of the church, Din Djarin, steps out of the other side of the confessional, rolling his shoulders to relieve the stiff ache of being confined in his narrow compartment.

His armor has grown dull with age and wear, buffed with a flat luster that speaks of its obstinate strength.

Others have said that his appearance makes him seem ordinary, but you’ve always thought that his mannerisms were what set him apart. His imposing stance, his commanding way of speaking, the way his head tilts when he’s deep in thought – he’s beautiful if you know where to look.

When he turns in your direction, your breath catches in your throat.

“You’ve been here for quite a while.” His voice has an unexpected warmth that licks up your spine. “Are you here to speak with me?”

Your eyes flicker warily to the confession booth. “I’m not sure.”

He seems to pause for a moment before making his mind up to join you, floorboards groaning under his heavy boots as he draws near. You shift uncomfortably on the hard bench, squirming under the spotlight of his attention. He stops at the end of your row and rests a hand behind you on the back of the pew.

“We can speak out here if you’d prefer.”

You’re surprised that he’d recognized the source of your unease, though you’re not sure if he realizes why the embrace of the confessional is so distinctly unnerving.

The people of Mandalore are not known for their empathy, especially not those held in high regard by the church. Din Djarin is a fiercely orthodox man, and you doubt he understands the position you’re in.

“I’ve seen you during services,” he comments. “Always so attentive.”

Heat rises to your cheeks at the thought of being recognized in the mass of devoted warriors that frequent his sermons. Is your shame so pronounced that you stand out in a crowd? “I didn’t know you paid attention to the assembly.”

He hums in response. “I care deeply for everyone in my congregation, especially those who are in danger of losing their faith. Tell me, what’s been troubling you?”

You hesitate before answering, skirting around the truth as much as you can, as much as he’ll let you.

“I’ve had… impure thoughts, father.”

“Oh?” His voice is rich with interest. “Indulge me, cyar'ika. What tempts you?”

His smooth, full baritone makes it impossible to deny his entreaty, like he’s wrenching your secrets from the far reaches of your mind.

“I’ve thought about… taking my helmet off in the witness of non-believers. I’ve thought about what you look like underneath your armor.” You pause for breath. “I’ve thought about your image at improper times.”

His chest falls with a heady sigh, though the sound is lost beyond the rasp of his modulator. “I see. And how do you think you should pay for your transgressions?”

The presence of other Mandalorians can be heard from outside the chapel – an admonition of what you have to lose if you are turned away. The air in the room shifts. Your hands flex at your sides.

“I’ll do anything.” You push forward onto the edge of your seat, ardently pleading for your chance at repentance. “Tell me how to make things right.”

He shifts in place, mulling over his options for what feels like an eternity. You swallow the urge to scream as silence rings in your ears.

Finally, he speaks.

“Maybe you’re too curious,” he decides. “Too concerned with things you cannot have.”

Your fingers dig into your palms, awaiting the final blow of his judgement.

“I think you need to experience firsthand the gravity of your desire.”

He leans down like he’s sharing something that no one else can hear, a sentiment too clandestine to be born in a house of worship.

“This is a sacred place,” he explains. “If you’re going to commit an act of sin, let it be here.”

You’re taken aback by the implication of his words. You’d been expecting a show of indignation, maybe even outrage for your betrayal of the Way, but it seems like he’s encouraging your lapse in faith. Surely, you’ve misunderstood.

The hand caressing your shoulder tells you that you haven’t.

“Revealing yourself to anyone a sin, and the public would have you exiled for removing your helmet. But here, in the presence of a higher being, I will make an exception.”

He doesn’t give you a chance to respond before his hands are on the underside of your helmet, tipping your head back with the force of his grip. The fabric of his gloves glides against your jaw as he lifts your beskar veil and exposes you under the chapel’s dim, ruddy glow.

You squint at the sudden shift in the light, surprised to discover what your dark-tinted visor had been hiding from you. The red halo cast around him is much more intense without the obstruction of your helmet. His outlined form burns with a fiery sanctitude that makes you shudder.

Your attention is drawn to his hands ghosting over your face, cradling your cheeks with a curious touch. The pad of his thumb presses against your mouth, tugging at the plush of your bottom lip. “Is this what you wanted?”

You swallow thickly and chance a look up at him, finding your face in the reflection of his visage. Your lips part in fascination at the sight of your own eyes staring back at you.

“That’s it, open up for me.”

His thumb presses further into your mouth and hooks behind your teeth. The taste of the holy chrism melts across your senses, balsam and olive oil and something you can’t name. When your tongue swipes out to meet his digit, he hums low in his chest and pulls his other hand back to curl around his belt.

“Does this make you feel good? Corrupting a man of faith?”

You whimper around his thumb, eyes blown wide with lust. The metal buckle at his waist glints in the low light, seemingly pleading for your touch. You don’t know how far he’ll take this lesson, but you’re hoping it ends in a mutual exchange of sin.

As if persuaded by your thoughts alone, he works open his belt and the fastenings of his pants, revealing a patch of tawny skin that contrasts the muted tones of his beskar.

“You need more than this, though. Don’t you?”

With a low hiss, he pulls his hardening cock from its confines, and your mouth waters at the sight. He’s eager, alive, twitching in his tight grip. The tip of his cock weeps as he bucks into his hand.

The heat simmering in your belly has grown into a blazing flame. When he swaps his thumb for the head of his cock, your thighs clench with the urgent need to consume him in every way.

His warm, salty taste is so human, so unlike the righteous figure he’s made out to be. You can almost picture what the rest of him looks like by the glimpse of what he’s offered you.

Your lips wrap coyly around his length, an earnest appeal for his approval.

The tint of his visor hides his eyes, but you gaze up at him anyway in hopes that he meets you halfway, that he commits the image of your debauched affair to memory.

“C’mon, this is your chance to atone.”

You trace the vein on the underside of his cock, tongue laving over him in search of a reaction, in search of redemption through your greedy act of worship. His hips stutter in response and the head of his cock twitches against the roof of your mouth.

He mumbles something akin to prayer and focuses his efforts, sliding further into your mouth until your nose presses against his pelvis and his cock settles in the back of your throat. You gag at the foreign pressure and try to pull away, but he settles a hand on the nape of your neck to hold you in place.

“That’s it, take it all.”

His thrusts are slow, lazy, careful not to overwhelm you. When he moves, it’s a gentle drag over your tongue, not the heedless intrusion you’d expected from him. He bucks his hips like he wants to know you’re enjoying it too.

“Fuck,” he grunts, chin dropped to his chest. “Your filthy mouth was made for this.”

You wish you could see him without the beskar disguising his reaction. The heave of his chest, the flex of his hands, the jump of his cock when you tongue the right spot – his body is so expressive, you have no doubt that his face would be too.

A few more juts of his hips and he’s pulling out of your mouth and forming a fist around his length, flushed skin glistening with your spit.

He chokes out a broken noise and angles his hips towards you, painting the evidence of your transgressions over your cheeks and your lips.

You touch your fingers to your face when he pulls away, eyeing his handiwork with a sound of approval. This part of yourself, it’s his now. Desecrated for the use of someone more sacred than yourself.

The corners of your mouth stretch into a grin. This is exactly the forgiveness you were looking for.

[unofficial-writing]

Little Clan

Pairing: Din Djarin x Fem!reader

Warnings: fluff, topics of pregnancy, sickness, etc.

Summary: You recently found out you’re pregnant and you have to tell Din

Word count: Like 700

Translation: Mesh’la (MAYSH’la) - “Beautiful”, Ad’ika (ah-DEE-kah) - “Little one”

༺═────────────═༻

You’d been wrecked for the past few days. Spending so much time in bed or throwing up had taken a toll on you, causing your mental state to drop as well and make you more emotional than usual.

Din of course tended to you as if you were dying. He brought you food, did your hair, and basically just stayed with you all day. it wasn’t until today that he had to leave the Razor Crest for a couple of hours. He was hesitant but you insisted you would be just fine.

Up until early that morning, you thought it was just a particularly difficult sickness. But a thought climbed into your mind, which wouldn’t leave until you answered to it. And about an hour ago, you confirmed it. you were pregnant.

There were mixed feelings. How would Din feel about it? you didn’t even know how you felt. You knew Din and you knew he wouldn’t be upset, but it was a subject you never talked about before.

You took a few deep breaths to keep yourself from getting overwhelmed. Now sitting on the floor of the ship, you stared into a strip of metal that was clean enough to see your reflection in. That’s where you had been for at least the past ten minutes. You stayed there, even after hearing the ramp door slide open.

A hand gingerly went to your stomach, turning your head to see your armored Din climbing the ramp and into the ship.

Without greeting him, you turned back to the makeshift mirror, hearing him set Grogu down with a soft “There you go, buddy.” and raising the ramp.

Your heart picked up pace as he approached you, jumping to every possible negative outcome. Most of which were pretty far fetched.

His helmet tilted just slightly to the side. He knew you well enough to know when something was wrong, even on top of an illness. And you were terrible at hiding things from him.

“Can you tell me what’s wrong?” He kneeled beside you and spoke as softly as he could through a modulator. When met with silence, he removed his helmet and scooped you up, setting you on his cot.

“You can tell me, mesh’la” He assured, lifting a hand to the side of your face. You met his eyes, which gazed back at you with gentle worry.

You sighed. Why were you so scared to tell him? This was Din, your Din who loved you and had no problem reminding you. You savored his touch on your face, feeling his thumb brush over your cheek.

“Din, I-” You started hesitantly. “Im pregnant.” His face changed from concern to shock. Which was rightfully so because you may have just dropped the biggest news on him he’d ever heard.

You’ve never heard him stutter before, but he did then. “Y-you’re what?” He responded. You thought at first he really was upset, but then his expression changed again. A smile started building on his face, bringing the rest of his features following suit.

“You’re not joking with me?” He asked, putting his hands on your shoulder. He now sported a huge smile. You haven’t seen him look like this in a long time. It made your heart absolutely leap.

You shook your head. “No, of course not.” you giggled. Din pulled you into him, pressing tender kisses to the side of your head. He now held you delicately, as if you were fragile now that you were carrying his child.

You wrapped your arms around him, burying your face into his neck where you stayed for a long time. “We’re going to have a child, Din.” you finally said, muffled against his neck.

“Our ad’ika.” he replied softly, giving a kiss to the top of your head. Your smile grew. Your little clan would soon have another addition. and both of you were no less than thrilled about it.

[bits-and-babs]

could i be cheeky and ask for some more mandalorian 👀 preferably touch starved din

✦ 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐍 ✦

– KINKTOBER DAY 2: TOUCH STARVED

din djarin x reader | smut, 18+ | 1.2k words

summary: the child has been getting in the way of you and mando spending time together. after weeks without your touch, he's finally reaching his limit.

cw: f!reader, needy din, slightly ooc din to fit the theme, begging, oral (m receiving), cumming early, reference to f oral.

⇽ KINKTOBER MLIST | DAY 3: PHONE SEX ⇾

Even a kriffing Miraluka, blind as they are, could see how badly Mando desperately wanted you to touch him. The sheer yearning that rolled from The Mandalorian in waves was enough to shift the midichlorians themselves, the fibres of the galaxy trembling whenever you were near him.

Weeks trapped inside the Crest with Mando, far too preoccupied with the tiny green gremlin to pay attention to his needs had taken its toll on the warrior's mentality. Grogu had been pulling at wires, leaving the ship static in dead space and even managed to find a button that sucked the oxygen from the hangar, resulting in a frantic struggle to restore O-Levels to baseline before your lungs shrivelled. A menace to the galaxy, you’d spent more time with your eyes glued to the tiny, green hazard than you had sleeping. 

In turn, Mando was practically trembling with need. He’d let out a shaky sigh every time you sat beside him in the passenger seat, voice-strain evident even with the crackle of the vocoder doing its best to conceal the distress that dripped from each singular-syllable response to your questions. 

In deep space with the child finally down in his cot for a much needed sleep, Mando’s leather gloves creak with the grip he tightens around the controls of the Crest. You hear the grains scream under the pressure as you approach, glancing over the map and the coordinates Greef Karga had offered in Mando’s search for the bounty. It’s cruel, barbaric almost, but you swear you can’t see the digits, numbers far too small for you to see from this close… So you place your palm on Mando’s shoulder, leaning over him in an attempt to get a better view. 

You'd never admit it, but the way you somehow managed to touch him between the Beskar plates of his armour was completely intentional. It was a guilty pleasure, seeing the stoic bounty hunter crumble simply from the pressure of your fingers. His chest heaves, each muscle in his body stiffening under the weight of your fingers. 

Regardless of how heavy the Mandalorian’s stare was, his eyes burning into your skin from behind the tinted visor, you refuse to advance without his request. You pretend not to notice, mouthing the digits of the coordinates to yourself, squinting as though you were unable to see.

It had been weeks of this Loth Cat and Womp Rat game, and poor Mando seems to be reaching the end of his tether.

You finally feel his respove snap when you settle your hand on the nape of his neck, leaning further over his shoulder to ‘check the fuel levels of the Crest was enough to make the journey’. Your fingertips brush the bare skin between the neck of his flight-suit and the edge of his chrome helmet, and Mando nearly doubles over like he's in pain. He chokes out, and you can tell he's already hard, his cock straining against his flight suit.

"Please, please fucking touch me,” Mando’s voice sounds utterly pathetic, a far cry from the vicious warrior that blasted through whole packs of assassin droids.”I can't take it anymore, I ca-ahaaa-" he can't swallow the moan that bleeds through the vocoder when you palm his cock though his suit. You can feel the hard curve of his cock twitch against your palm, even though the thick fabric. A rough squeeze sends Mando’s head rocking back against the seat with a quiet, metallic thunk. 

“It feels like you’ve missed me,” you murmur quietly, feeling his hips jerk against your touch when your voice reaches his ears. Prickling arousal bleeds across your skin at how reactive he is, the usually stoic figure shaking himself apart under your touch.

“M–Missed you so much,” he admits, and you’re almost certain you hear the strain of his teeth from grinding them together, “Hah– Need to feel you on me, nee-d to be in you.”

Offering a soft hum of acknowledgement to his suffering, you spin his seat around slowly. His head seems loose on his shoulders, unable to hold it upright when he sees you sink to your knees in front of him. You almost feel sorry for him, watching how he frantically scrambles to free his cock for you. 

The first drag of your tongue against the arch of his shaft has Mando panic-stricken, his hands grasping the arms of the seat when his dick throbs heavily against your taste buds. 

“Fuck–” He growls, practically choking on his own voice, “C–Can’t!”

“It’s okay,” you whisper against a pulsing vein beneath his velvety skin, “We can do it again…” 

Pre-cum slips from the ruddy head of his cock at your gentle encouragement, a tortured whine rattling in Mando’s lungs. It’s so loud that you wouldn’t be surprised if the sound was bouncing inside the Beskar walls of his helmet. 

Carefully, you trace the tip of your tongue against the salty head of his cock, letting out a sharp breath when Mando takes a tight fistful of your hair. His chest is heaving, barely able to keep from slurring his words when he begs you to take him into your mouth. 

Slackening your jaw, you hum softly as you take just a few inches. Mando, in what seems like a half hearted attempt to escape the overwhelming pleasure, pushes his whole body back against the chair while choking out obscene curses. You’re so slow, trying your best not to overwhelm the poor, devastated man– but the flat of your tongue pressed against the underside of his cock and the tip nudging the back of your throat is all it takes to obliterate his self control. 

Mando sounds almost winded by the force with which he cums. His balls pull up so tight, the fingers in your hair clenching to the point your follicles scream beneath the grip. Underneath the Beskar armour, every muscle in his body flexes before the cum hits the back of your throat. Spurts of thick, salty seed paint the inside of your mouth, violent jerks of his shaft causing Mando’s head to fall backwards again, whimpering as you swallow down– swallow around him. 

“Hoh-Fuck–! Stars,” he babbles, wheezing out your name while the last of his cum drips from his cockhead. Pulling from him when his thighs finally start to seize from the overstimulation, you lean your head against Mando’s trembling knees and giggle. He looks utterly exhausted, slumped in his seat and chest heaving as he sucks oxygen into his lungs. 

“Your mouth– hah–” he wheezes out a slight laugh, so unlike the reserved Mando you met in a bar on Corellia. You’d stopped the child from running off into the crowd, and somehow found yourself with the role of babysitting him while following the bounty hunter on his adventures. “It’s so good…”

“Mhmm,” you hum in agreement, smiling to yourself at the memory of meeting the apathetic, almost grumpy chrome-man as you brush your palm across his thigh and closing your eyes to sweeten the deal, “So is yours. Put it to use and taste me?” You hear the tnk of his helmet touching the ground soon after.

pedro pascal/kinktober taglist:

@xwing-baby , @mybugboy , @pansa-1-san , @pedrosprincess , @cosm1c-babe , @lil-stark , @heart-atttack @crybaby-blue-blog, @ssimelttilgniht @2pacacabra @pauldanosgf @leithatnight @kirsteng42 @dindjarinsmut @s0ftgabby @milly-louise @aynsleywalker @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @uncassettodiricordi @howellatme @mortallyuniquepeach @maviee @eatingtheworldsoffanfiction @stvrlights-world @alloftheboysivelovedbefore @girlofchaos @s-u-t @pintsizedsunshine @djarin-dreams @solidly-indulgent @bii-aan-ckaa @casa-boiardi @maelstrom007 @nikisfwn @levi-llama @haunt3dh3art @lundenloves @rentaldarling @cyberpr1m3 @jedi-in-crocs @yunggoblin @spideyman-peter @iaur @cool-iguana @paleidiot

@bloodmoon-bites @wiltedwonderland @doggydale @limegreenbabx @namelesshumanperson @ninahhh-brahh

[lincolndjarin]

Bound in Beskar

From the world of Best Kept Secret...

A down on her luck traveler finds employment with a gruff Mandalorian. He's quiet and reserved, she's resourceful and quick witted, and things are heating up in the forge... one can only imagine what happens in this tale of lust and steel.

Some of you may recall our dear princess!reader in bks reading a book in chapter 20, this is that. Vaguely in the style of those campy romance novels that you read in the bathtub with candles and wine.

warnings : armorer!mando, no use of y/n, reader is not described past the fact that she is manhandled and carried by mando, smut, unapologetic porn with a little plot, i use the phrase 'throbbing member' just once i promise it's ironic please believe me guys, spanking, pussy slapping, dom/sub undertones, sir kink, unprotected sex, creampie, praise, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, humiliation, p in v sex, inappropriate use of blacksmithing abilities, ro makes things up about blacksmithing, bondage, use of restraints, briefly mentioned ass play, inappropriate use of a hammer, size kink, sweet rough sex, power imbalance (mando is readers boss, but both parties are consenting), definitely a few things i missed my apologies, barely beta read i was in a rush sorry!!

word count : 3.8k

a/n : this is so bad but also like i love it LMAO like i promise it's supposed to be kind of bad guys you have to believe me lmaoooo. this was really fun to do omfg this is my magnum opus in the worst way possible

You don’t know his name. 

There wasn’t even an interview. You’d come knocking on his door when you saw the sign in town on the news bulletin board. You’d shown up with everything you owned in the canvas bag on your hip as you knocked on the large brass door. The house didn’t look like a shop, it just looked like a house, a large house, when he finally opened the door you could see why. Just beyond his hulking figure you can see his work space, the majority of the building is devoted to just one room, high ceilings and brick walls surround the enormous forge. 

“I saw your flier for a live-in housekeeper, is the position still available?” You’re so sick of sleeping in alley ways and rooftops, you’d do nearly anything for adequate lodging. 

He had examined you, the cold, unfeeling steel of his visor scanning up and down your body until he nodded. 

“You can clean?” The low, controlled voice drips through the modulator making your blood run hot. 

“Yes, and cook.” You hold your hand out to him, he only nods in response as you tell him your name. 

“You start now.” Is all you get as he motions for you to step inside.

So yeah.

You don’t know his name and he never tells you.

So you just call him sir. 

The room is nicer than any you’ve ever had. A little space at the top of the stairs, a soft worn out mattress and a desk with a crooked stool. You take it with a grin, you can’t remember the last time you slept somewhere warm. 

You set your things down as he instructs you to follow him back downstairs. He shows you around, although there isn’t much to see. The main room is large with an open ceiling for the smoke, an ornate forge takes up the center, the fires crackle from within as he leads you to a small kitchen. 

The first thing you note is how barren it is. One skillet hangs from a hook and as you search through the drawers most of them are empty.

“I will give you extra credits this week for supplies.” He sounds almost embarrassed as he ushers you out of the room towards his own. “Once a week I’ll need you to tidy up here and do the laundry, it is of the utmost importance to me that you knock when you do.”

“Of course.” You nod slowly and he puts his hands on his hips. There’s a moment of silence before he turns and returns to his work without another word.  

You are to cook his meals, buy the groceries, clean the house, and stay out of his way. In exchange he provides housing and a salary of two hundred and fifty credits a week along with any change from the grocery money he gives you. 

You almost want to ask how no one else applied to such a generous job offer but the quiet foreboding presence of your employer makes it obvious enough. It wouldn’t surprise you if people feared him, you’re certainly a bit jumpy around him. He’s just so… big. He takes up so much space, stomping around the shop all day as you take care to stay out of his path, cleaning up the messes he leaves behind. 

You stay extremely vigilant, opportunities like this do not often arise for you so you give him no reasons to question your performance. 

You go to the markets, bundled up in your cloak once a week to keep the kitchen stocked. You wake before him to prepare his breakfast, you tidy up the forge before he opens the shop to make it presentable. You cook, you clean, you repeat. When there is no work to be done he dismisses you, telling you to make yourself busy elsewhere and you always do. Taking walks or retreating to your own quarters. 

You do this for quite some time. 

He doesn’t necessarily soften up towards you but he seemingly grows to tolerate you more. 

You try different things, baking, knitting, painting and anything else you can get your hands on but no hobby ever seems to stick so eventually you take to watching him work. Sitting at the top of the stairs, dangling your legs over the railing as he hammers the smoldering metals. He’s an artist really, the quick precision of his strikes with the hammer, bending steel to his will to craft the custom fitted pieces. It makes you wonder why his own armor looks so worn down when he clearly has a gift. Everything but his helmet is worn down, scratched up dark metals that he often tosses aside when he works late into the night. 

After long days of work when the shop is closed he’ll toss aside his chestplate and pauldrons, opting to remain only in his helmet as he rolls up his sleeves revealing the warm tan skin beneath. You always feel as though you can’t breathe right when he does this. His strong, toned arms, littered with burn scars from years of work. 

You can’t deny his appeal. 

Even without the armor he is huge. The wide expanse of his shoulders that smooth down into a narrow waist. You don’t even need to wonder about what’s going on under the helmet because everything else is just so much. Those hands, that neck, his chest, you’re practically drooling when you watch him work late into the night, sitting at the top of the stairs, clutching a steaming mug of caf as you squeeze your thighs together. You spend most nights with your hand between your legs thinking about your employer.   

It isn’t a bad life, it’s repetitive but it’s happy and safe which is more than you’ve ever had before. The Mandalorian treats you well, sometimes he speaks to you outside of orders, sometimes over dinner he asks you how your day was. You even have enough money to start a savings box. 

Nothing changes and you’re fine with that.

Until one night when he’s working late, working on something smaller and detailed. You had started to tidy up around him, already in your pajamas as you padded around the forge in your nightshirt and shorts. You were sweeping when it happened. 

“Kriff-” You slip on a scrap of fabric, you grab onto the ledge of the forge, trying to catch yourself. Your breath catches in your throat as you knock a hammer off of the stone, nearly falling face first into the molten metal.

You don’t even have time to scream as the wind is knocked out of you and you’re sharply yanked backwards away from the heat. 

“Do you have a death wish?” It’s the most emotion you’ve ever heard from him, anger that threatens to spill out of his helmet. “If you fall face first into that you’d be dead in an instant.” He hisses out, hands now shaking your shoulders. 

“I- I’m sorry, it was an accident.” Your face gets hot with shame as the veins in his neck pulse. “Please don’t fire me.” You whisper, fear of losing everything you’ve worked for over one simple mistake. 

He sighs.

“I’m not going to fire you, I’m just going to discipline you.”

“Discipli-” You start to question him but he sits down on the anvil, motioning you forward with two fingers before patting his lap. Your eyes go wide at the implication.

“Tell me to stop and you can go back upstairs, it won’t affect your job." He whispers earnestly.

You don’t want him to stop. 

So you go to sit in his lap but he clicks his tongue under his helmet.

“On your stomach.” His voice is lower than before as you swallow loudly, bending yourself over his knee, hiding your face in your hands. Your ass is on display for him under the short sleep shirt you wear. “How many do you think you need to learn your lesson?” 

“How many what, sir?” 

“How many spanks.”

Oh.

You pray to the Maker that you aren’t soaking through your shorts right now. 

“Umm… fifteen?” You aren’t exactly experienced in the subject but you don’t want to pick a number too low.

“Fifteen? Look at you my little over achiever, you must truly be sorry.” He muses with an amusement you’ve never heard from him. His large palm massages the globes of your ass, you’re so painfully turned on at this point you’re honestly a little worried you’re gonna come the second he starts. “And can you tell me why you’re being punished?” 

“B-because I knocked over your hammer?” You stammer out and you feel a sharp sting as he pinches your ass. 

“No, you sweet thing.” He bunches up your top a bit higher as he simultaneously yanks down your shorts pulling a yelp from you, he definitely knows you’re wet now. “It’s because you weren’t being careful, you weren’t focused on what you were doing and you almost got hurt.”

“No, I was focused I promise-”

“But you weren’t. You were sitting up there watching me, getting yourself all worked up and by the time you got down here you were so horny you got distracted and almost got yourself killed. What would I do without my pretty little housekeeper?” You’re speechless for several reasons. He knows why you watch him? He knows how much it turns you on? 

He called you pretty. 

And his. 

“Tell me why you’re being punished?” He repeats as you clear your throat. 

“Because I wasn’t paying attention.” You mumble. 

“I want the exact answer.” 

You’re so embarrassed you could just die but something about the shame makes your blood run hot as you rub your thighs together rather obviously, earning a chuckle from your companion. 

“Because I was so worked up from watching you and I was distracted, and I almost got hurt.” You whisper, hearing a pleased hum from him. 

“That’s my smart girl. Are you ready?” 

“Yes.”

“Yes…?”

“Yes, sir.” You quickly correct yourself before bracing yourself for the first smack. 

One. 

You’re surprised by the softness of the smack. It’s more like a pat against your rear. 

“Still good?” 

“Yes sir.” 

Two. 

You squeak a bit, this one being significantly harsher than the first, before you’re prepared he’s back on you. 

Three, four, five, six. 

You’re making a sound that’s a mix between a moan and a squeal as his bare palms come in contact with your ass in four consecutive sharp spanks. He rubs his hands over the flesh that you’re certain is already welted and swollen. The next spanks come long before you’re ready. 

Seven, eight, nine, ten. 

Tears sting your eyes as he lays into you as if you’re beskar steel that he can bend to his will.

“Look at that.” He remarks with a sense of accomplishment as you let out a soft whimper. You feel his finger gliding along your thighs and up your seam making you shudder before he holds his glistening digits in front of your face. “Are you enjoying yourself, sweet thing?” You nod with a small hum, praying he’ll just touch you already but you aren’t so lucky as you feel a slap against your pussy (Eleven.) that has you whining, loud and high pitched as you clench around nothing. 

Twelve. 

Another slap to your cunt, you can feel your clit twitching as a groan is punched out of you. 

“Gods, are you gonna come like this?” He sounds terribly amused as your body tenses. 

Thirteen. 

He spreads you wide open, giving your clit a little tap that has you lurching forward in his lap. 

“Come on, you can do it.” The condescending tone only makes you want to please him more, you want it so bad as he ghosts a finger across your dripping hole. 

Fourteen, fifteen. 

On the final slap his hand stays pressed against your mound, applying just enough pressure to throw you over that edge. You’ve never come quite like this, nearly wailing as tears now flow freely as your body turns to putty in his lap. He has melted you down and made you something new. 

He lets you work through it for a while, rubbing your back until you come back to your senses. He lifts you from his lap, your legs wobble and shake as he stands you up.

“I gotcha.” He murmured as he picked you up bridal style, carrying you up the stairs before laying you down in bed. “You did so good, such a good girl for me.” He whispered as you closed your eyes, absolutely exhausted. You felt the blankets pulled up over you before you drifted off. 

You swore you felt something press against your forehead. 

When you wake for the first time since you started working for him, breakfast is already made. A plate of bread and meat sits on your desk along with a glass of water. Your ass is raw but other than that you feel more than fine. You aren’t sure what to expect when you go downstairs but it certainly isn’t the silence you're met with. 

It’s as if nothing happened at all. 

He doesn’t even acknowledge you as you frown, attending to your daily tasks. 

He barely even looks at you. 

You go to bed that night frustrated and upset.

So you come up with a plan to get his attention.

You mess up in every way possible. 

You ‘forget’ to make his breakfast. You leave metal scraps on the floor. And you go to bed early, hoping he’ll come upstairs and punish you for your mistakes but he never does. You ignore your duties for a full week before you finally snap at him while he’s locking up. 

“Do I have to throw myself into the forge again to get your attention?” You finally snap at him. 

“Excuse me?” He turns to face you, holding his tongs in hand. 

“I have been a terrible housekeeper for days and you haven’t so much as scolded me!” You throw your hands up in exasperation as he shakes his head. 

“Is that what this is about? My forge is a mess because I haven’t been giving you enough attention?” He tilts his head to the side and you actually feel a bit guilty, when he puts it like that you seem rather petulant. You nod, feeling rather ashamed. He points at the anvil. “Lay down. Now.” You waste no time, rushing over and laying down on your stomach across the large steel surface, his large hands pin you down in place as he takes position behind you, clearly fuming and clearly hard as his hips meet your ass. 

It’s a harrowing juxtaposition, how careful yet rough he is with you as his hand holds you by the back of your neck, pressing you into the cold metal of the anvil. You’re practically giddy with anticipation as you feel a faint heat on your wrists as they’re yanked behind your back. There’s a sizzling sound and you register a metal wrapped around your wrists, arousal and fear course through you as you feel a nearly painful heat that has you trying to look over your shoulder. He pushes back harder on your neck.

“Don’t move.” He grumbles as you go still. When he finally takes a step back you turn to look at what he’s done only to find your wrists shackled behind your back, they aren’t just locked in place. 

He’s welded them together.  

“You want my attention so badly? Then you’re gonna get it.” He yanks down everything below your waist, your tights bunching at your ankles as he pulls your skirt up to your hips. “You’re a terrible housekeeper, maybe I should find another use for you.” He kneels behind you, spreading you wide open with his hands, the cool air from the skylight chills your soaking folds. His fingers poke at you as if he’s examining you. You’re grinning as you wait for him to finally touch you in earnest but instead you feel cold steel pressing into you. You flinch away from the sensation but he holds you in place. 

“Sir- please-” You whine but all that gets you is a slap on the ass as he pushes the object in deeper. You groan, it isn’t all that thick but Maker it’s long, brushing up against spots inside of you you’re certain you’ve never reached before until the base of it bumps against your clit, the heavy weight shifting inside of you as it clicks. 

He put his fucking hammer inside you. 

“Maybe I can use you to hold my tools.” He remarks as he stands. “Would you like that? If I kept you around to hold my things?” He walks over to kneel in front of you now, tapping your face with his fingers. “This is a lesson, you know.” 

“What lesson?” Your voice is more strained than you expected. 

““That if you want something, you need to ask for it.” He whispers through the modulator as you nod.

“Please.” You whimper.

“Please, what?” 

“Please, I want you to touch me.” You sway your hips as best you can like this as he runs his fingers across your cheek.

“Like this?” Bastard.

“I want you to fuck me.” No point beating around the bush. “Sir.” You add on a beat later, hoping to encourage him. 

“That’s all you needed to say.” He stands back up and you groan as he yanks the tool out of you, running his fingers through your wetness as you hear the rustling of fabric and zippers before something thick and soft swipes through your folds. As he sinks himself into you at last one of his hands grips the meat of your hips so hard you’re certain it’ll bruise. The other holds the metal linking your cuffs as he pulls you back onto him, impaling you on his cock at a distressingly slow pace. 

Ask for it. 

“Please sir- I need you- I need you to fill me up.” 

“Such a polite girl.” You can hear his grin as he slams forward. Your hips are flush now as he thrusts his throbbing member into your soaking heat. “Such a- sweet cunt.” He groans as you slump forward, the size of him knocks the wind out of you as he splits you open. His cock stretches you open wider than ever before as he immediately takes on a punishing pace. 

Your body is on fire, your nerves igniting as he pounds into you. The hand on your hip moves lower, circling your clit sending another jolt of fire through your veins as you barrel towards an unavoidable orgasm. 

You cry out as he angles his hips to hit that spot inside of you and all too quickly you tumble over that edge, strangling his cock within you as you spasm wildly. Your eyes flutter shut as you soak him. 

He doesn’t let up for a second. 

“Gonna give you enough attention to keep you content for a few days.” He spits out through grit teeth, already pushing you towards another climax your body isn’t at all ready for. 

“So fucking needy. Maybe I should make some toys for you to play with while I’m working.” He grumbles, you feel his thumb prodding at your other entrance as you gasp. “Could make you something real pretty to put in here.” You nod furiously as he laughs, rocking his hips forward again. It’s a good thing you’re being held up by the anvil because your legs go limp underneath you as you come again. He pinches your clit, nowhere near hard enough to hurt but enough to make you sob as your eyes go wet from the overstimulation of everything that’s happening. “Think you can give me one more?” The dominating condescending tone is gone as he leans down, his helmet knocking against your spine as if he’s kissing you there. 

“I- I don’t know.” You manage to whisper out as he slows his brutal pace, an act of mercy to your puffy, sensitive cunt. 

“Do you wanna try?” His voice is sweet now as he stills inside of you. Keyword there is try. Your skin tingles in a way that is nearly painful as you nod. 

“Yes sir.” You turn your head to the side, resting the hot skin on the cold steel.

“That’s my girl.” He murmurs, starting a new pace, a gentler one as he pushes the blunt head of his cock against your cervix, pulling a drawn out whine from your chest. “That’s it, just a little more, such a good girl, so good for me.” He begins to ramble as his thrusts grow a little erratic and sloppy, his fingers tensing against your hips as he stumbles forward, his entire body flush with yours as he empties himself into you. You can feel the warmth leaking between the two of you as you’re hit with an entirely new sensation that makes you come one last time. Your vision goes entirely white now as tears wash down your face. He steadies you, holding you through it and whispering more praises that don’t entirely register before he carefully pulls out of you. Your eyes remain shut as he carefully takes your wrists, after a moment they’re back at your side as he puts you back together. Pulling up your panties and tights, keeping his cum inside of you in the process as he lays you on your back, eventually sitting you up. “Are you okay?” 

You grin. 

“Yes, sir.” He chuckles, leaning forward just enough to tap his helmet against yours for a moment. You look down at your wrists where the metal bands remain. 

“I made them for you, they aren’t always shackles, they're pretty when they aren’t stuck together.” You bring them up to your face, getting a closer look at the intricate details. There’s a small mythosaur embossed on each one. A symbol, something that binds you to him. 

“I love it.” You smile up at him, looking around the still dirty shop. “I should probably catch up on my work…” You start to stand but he sits you back down. 

“Take the day off, worry about it tomorrow.” He walks past you, you turn to watch him throw more kindling into the forge. 

“What are you gonna do with the rest of your day?” You tilt your head, watching as he takes the hammer that was inside you only moments ago and spins it in his hand. 

“I believe I owe you a couple of toys.” He tosses a handful of steel into the hearth as you sit back a bit and watch him start to work. 

a/n : this was ridiculous but also i did take it very seriously. this genre was what i was unapologetically born to write.

if you liked this and aren't familiar with my work this is a one off from my mandalorian series Best Kept Secret, which you can find here!!

I don't have taglists but follow @lincolndjarinnotifs for updates on any and all fics!!