#dom!din djarin x sub!reader smut | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

theidiotwhowritesthings · 1 year

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Familiar & Unfamiliar

din djarin x female!reader

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

word count: 4,174

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The sooner, the better.

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you⏤Are you injured?” You asked.

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

That was not how you felt right now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“M⏤Mando?” You gasped.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did I hurt you?” He blurted.

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

“Anything, mesh’la. Anything.”

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

“You want me to…kiss you?”

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

“That’s not dumb, mesh’la.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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2kiran · 7 months

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◜ᐢ..ᐢ◝ ᶻz ➜ din didn’t know how it lead to this. you were his bounty and you made him chase after you then, eventually, he got to you. he was annoyed at you for being so stubborn when he caught you. but now? he’s completely at your mercy.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𖤐 pairing ☆ din djarin x dom!m!reader ˖ ࣪ ˖ cw ıllı bonus. helmetless!din. thigh riding. use of sir. blowjob [ giving ]. orgasm delay/denial. praise + degradation. ⪩⭔⪨

At first, a plan was quick to formulate in your mind. Intent on escaping his harsh grip as you were seconds away from boarding the Razor Crest. Unfortunately, you didn’t succeed. The Mandalorian’s reaction time was better than you expected. What was happening now, though, completely makes up for your earlier humiliation.

The feared and brutal bounty hunter, was on your thigh with his face bare, reduced to a whimpering mess.

“Shame that you have to wear that helmet of yours all the time. ‘s a waste for your pretty face.” He seemed utterly helpless, eyes pleading to you to end this enjoyable torture.

You guided him on your thigh, so slowly that he got quickly frustrated. “Faster...ah!” You sped up your movements briefly, only to slow it down again, earning a whine from him. “So impatient. We’ve only begun.” He shook his head, “Sir, I ca–can’t. I need—” You interrupted him, “You can. Be thankful that I haven’t already left after you’ve embarrassed me.” He moaned lowly as he rocked against you just right, “I’m sorry, f-fuck.” His hands rose, gripping your shoulders for dear life.

“It’s too late for that.” You lifted him away from your thigh, making Mando let out a sob. You put him on the crate you were sitting on and you pulled down his boxers, revealing his leaking cock. “I’ve barely done anything to you.” You leaned in without warning, licking up from the shaft to the tip. “Ah! Fuck, fuck,” He instinctively bucked into your warm mouth, a breathy moan escaping him as you hummed. The vibrations were dizzying his brain.

“Mmngh...Feels s’good. You’re doin’ so good...your m–mouth, ngh!” Your own cock strained against your pants at his words, laced with bliss. You surfaced, pulling off him to breathe. He groaned in disappointment, “No! I was s’close.” He slurred, a frown on his lips.

Oh.

He deserves this punishment.

You suddenly take him back in your mouth, bobbing your head up and down. “Oh! ‘M go–gonna—” On cue, your mouth was off of him again. Tongue ghosting over his tip. “What... why’d you stop?” He panted, “Do you think you deserve to cum?” His eyes widened, “I’m... I’m so sorry. Need your mouth on me. Please.” Your thumb rubbed lazy circles into his thigh to calm him down, “You can do better than that, yeah?” Tears brimmed at his waterline.

“Please... I need you. Need you to help me cum, to help me feel good, please. I’m sorry.”

“Stand up.” He followed your order, his shaky legs threatening to give up on him but you quickly pinned him to the wall. Swiftly, you took your pants along with your boxers off. Mando felt drool build up under his tongue at the sight of your cock. “Open your mouth for me, pretty boy.” He opened his mouth and you shove in three of your fingers, taking him by surprise. “What’re you waitin’ for? Suck on them, slut.” He did, surprisingly obedient and filthy.

Once he coated your fingers with his saliva, you put one of them into his hole. Then a second, scissoring him. Then there comes a third. “You’re taking me in so well, huh? Greedy little whore.” His dick twitched, his teeth biting on his bottom lip to muffle his sounds. You lined up your cock and slid it in, filling him up instantly. Din’s tears finally flowed down, staining his cheeks, “Please,” he weakly begged, voice more of a whisper, “Please fuck me, sir.” You couldn’t help it. Your hips drew themselves back, pounding into his entrance. The way he moaned your name seemed like it’s the only word he ever knew. You could consider it poetical, but it was absolutely whorish.

Mando swears a silent oath that he’ll never admit that he wants you to ruin him — to make a mess out of him in front of those who fears him.

But if you’re lucky enough, you could fuck it out of him.

“I’m going to—” He half-warns, “Don’t. Not until I say you can.” He quietly whimpered, choosing to keep silent. Mando knew better than to complain. He could only shut up and be your little toy.

The once silent Razor Crest was filled with his moans and the sounds of his squelching hole. You leaned in and kissed him, sliding your tongue into his mouth. Successfully silencing his moans until you pulled away, “You’re better when you’re quiet.” Your hand met his cock, setting up a quick pace, “Cum for me.” Almost on command, he came onto your shirt. His hole sucked you in so tightly, sending you off the edge.

You pulled out of him after a few moments, some of your cum dribbling down your cock. You kissed his tear-stained cheek sweetly, “Good boy.”

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

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chaotic-iguana · 10 months

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Acting out

(Din x f! reader one-shot)

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

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

Wordcount: 2.7k

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

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

ao3 // masterlist.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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beskarandblasters · 3 months

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can i make a request for dom!din keeping you on a leash at his feet pls i beg

You’ve Been a Bad Girl

Dom!Din Djarin x Sub/F!Reader

Main Masterlist | Din Djarin Masterlist

Summary: You’ve been a bad girl and Din decides to punish you by keeping you on a collar and leash.

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings: reader is able-bodied, canon divergent (long live the Razor Crest), dom/sub, degradation, pet names (good girl, cyar’ika), vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, praising, no use of y/n

Fic notifs: @beskarandblastersfics Fic recs: @kelbellsficrecs

“Just relax,” Din coos, his modulated voice in your ear sending a shiver down your spine.

You whimper as the cool leather collar encloses around your neck. Din hooks the leash to the clasp, the metal clinking as the two pieces come together. Not only are you donning a collar and a leash, but you’re also on your hands and knees on the cold metal floor. He rises from the floor and towers over you, the stone-cold stare of his visor burning into you.

“Do you know why you’re getting punished?”

You whine before saying, “…Yes.”

“Say it,” he commands.

“I’ve been a bad girl.”

“That’s right. You’ve been a bad girl,” he tuts.

You should’ve never flirted with that rando at the cantina earlier tonight…

“So now what?” you ask, wondering what exactly he’ll make you do like this.

“You wait,” he says simply, walking over to his armory. He pulls the leash tighter, coaxing you to follow him. On all fours you crawl to his side, peering up at him as he just goes about his regular tasks. He picks out an armful of blasters before shutting the door and tugging on your leash again. He just put the leash on but you don’t know how much longer you can take this. Heat reverberates off your skin, teeming with anticipation. But to know that you’re here like this on all fours, following him around while he pays you no mind is doing something for you.

He tugs on the leash again, pulling you from your thoughts. Every time he does that the wetness between your thighs grows, pooling at your entrance and waiting to be played with. He sits on a crate with a wide stance, thick thighs spread apart. You crawl to him and rest on your knees, looking up at him with wide eyes.

“Turn around,” he says simply, letting go of the leash for a split second.

You do as you’re told, turning so your back is to him, waiting for more instructions.

“Back up,” he continues, picking up the leash again and tugging it.

You inch backward so you’re situated in between his thighs. And from that point on he acts like you’re not there, cleaning his blasters and paying you no mind. You rest your head on his knee, wondering what he looks like from this angle, his fingers so meticulously cleaning his blasters. His fingers should be inside you, curling against your walls and making you squirm, taking your nipples in between his fingertips. But not now. Instead, he makes you wait so patiently like a good girl, waiting until he’s ready to use you.

You hear him set another blaster on the crate beside him. You lost count as to how many he’s cleaned at this point. It feels like it’s been hours but really who knows how long it’s been. You’ve been staring at the same thing; the storage area of the Razor Crest, the refresher door directly across from you. You wish he was taking you in there, bending you over the sink, and plowing into you. But instead, you’re waiting at his feet, waiting for his attention like a good, obedient girl.

You feel him move behind you, standing up from the crate and stepping so that he’s in front of you. He towers over you with a hand on his hip, deciding where he’s going to drag you next.

“To the refresher,” he commands as if he read your mind.

“What are you gonna make me do?” you ask with a shaky breath.

“Thought I might clean myself up,” he says, turning and pulling on your leash.

Your wetness is fully running down your thighs now, your desire pent up and almost too much to bear. The door to the refresher opens and he steps inside, dragging you along with him. He starts by taking off his gloves and turning on the water to the refresher. But you’re just now realizing what he meant by “cleaning up”. He’s going to get in the refresher fully nude (but with the helmet on of course) and take a shower. You think about watching him in the steamy refresher, his muscular body lathered with soap all while you’re waiting on your hands and knees. He can drag you around the Razor Crest, going about his day-to-day tasks. But this? This is unacceptable. This is too much.

“Din,” you whine.

“Hm?”

“I can’t take it anymore.”

“Can’t take what?”

“I… I need you already.”

“You’re gonna have to be more specific, cyar’ika,” he sighs.

“I need your cock, Din. I can’t wait any longer,” you whimper.

He crouches down in front of you and grabs your chin, forcing you to look directly into his visor.

“Are you gonna be bad a girl again?”

“No,” say sheepishly.

“I don’t know if I believe you.”

“Please, Din. I swear I’ll be a good girl,” you beg. It’s almost too much. You’re literally on your hands and knees begging for him to fuck you, promising him you’ll be a good girl.

“Fine,” he sighs, rising from the floor, “Get up.”

You get up and he lets go of the leash. He grabs you by your hips and puts you in front of the sink. And now you’re finally getting to look at the two of you in the reflection of the mirror; your nipples perked up, his gloveless hands, the look of desperation on your face. Maker, you need him already.

He bends you over the sink, hands coaxing your thighs apart. He runs two fingers along your entrance, gathering some of the wetness that’s built up there. His other hand pulls his cock out of his flight suit, stroking it a few times while he teases you. You expect his fingers to slip inside you, to keep teasing you further. But he takes his hand and spreads your wetness all over his cock, getting it nice and wet before hooking his hands on your hips. He pushes into you in one clean motion and you choke out a gasp at the sudden length and girth inside you.

“You can take it,” he commands.

You nod, looking at him in the mirror as he begins to plow into you, drawing his hips back and thrusting his cock inside you. He stretches your walls with each pump of his cock, letting out deep and guttural grunts with each movement. Your warmth and wetness envelop his cock, making it grow harder and harder inside you.

“Kriff, cyar’ika,” he says, “You’re doing so good, taking my cock like such a good girl,” he says, slamming into you on the last word.

You can’t respond with a coherent sentence, only letting out a jumbled string of whimpers and moans. Your mind is filled with nothing but thoughts of Din and his large cock reducing you down to a quivering mess.

One hand moves from your hip to grab the leash, holding it in his hand but not pulling it, a subtle way of showing you you’re his. You look at the leather strap in his hand and back up at his visor, your jaw going slack.

“Do you know who you belong to?”

“You, Din,” you whimper.

“Say it.”

“I belong to you, Din!” you cry out, your breath hitching as he slams into you again. You’re on the precipice of orgasm, a large release that’ll have your knees shaking and threatening to give out.

“Can I cum?” you whimper, fearing you won’t be able to hold on any longer.

“Soak my cock, cyar’ika,” he commands, driving his cock into you as deep as it’ll go.

You cum around him, walls convulsing around his cock. The refresher is filled with your moans, his grunts, and the wet, squelching sounds of your pussy. Your knees buckle underneath you, threatening to give out if it weren’t for the sink holding you up. The sensation of you clenching his cock draws his orgasm from him, painting your insides with his cum. He fucks you through both of your highs until eventually, his hips slow to a stop.

He pulls out of you and grabs you by the neck, pulling you upright against him. He wraps his arms around you and your eyes don’t leave the mirror, watching as his large hands roam your body in the steamy refresher.

“Have you learned your lesson?” he purrs by your ear.

“Mhm,” you nod, voice still high pitched from your release.

“Good girl,” he says, letting go of you, “I guess you’ve earned a reward.”

“And what’s that?”

“Get in the refresher with me, cyar’ika.”

@pedrostories

#din djarin x reader #din djarin smut #din djarin x f!reader #dom!din djarin #sub!reader #star wars fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x you #din djarin

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decembermidnight · 2 months

Text

Beskar and Pearls

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

Pairing: Din Djarin x f!reader

Word count: 3.9k

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

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

Masterlist - Read on Ao3

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Are you enjoying it?" he asks teasingly.

"Yes," you answer and bite your lip.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes, Mando!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

478 notes · View notes

whocaresstillthelouvre · 12 days

Text

Shining Din Djarin x Female Reader

Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Summary: You want Mando to make you shine. Warnings: Smut, oral (m receiving), exhibitionism (you let Din watch you masturbate), p in v sex, creampie (reader has an implant), light sub/dom vibes, Din gets handcuffed by his own binders, sensory deprivation with the help of Din's helmet. Words: 3,735 A/N: This idea has been dancing around in my head for the past week, thanks to @frannyzooey for her thot night post and kind motivation. Also, shout out to "Ghost In The Machine" by SZA. I dunno man, this is the first time I've ever written Din and wow, he was fun.

Masterlist

Mandalorians want for nothing, so why did he want you so bad?

Months of you joining him on his hunts, a damned demand of Karga. “She’s young and capable, she’ll be good for my little friend to have someone else to take care of him. I won’t take no, you owe me.”

Your little trinkets taking up precious cargo in his small ship, your pretty face always shining through the display tempting him to give it all up just for a glimpse of the color of your soft skin, your beautiful body keeping him up and frustrated at night while you sleep soundly on the cot you insisted you needed. The only reason why he caved is because he was tired of you sneaking into his pod and leaving his blankets smelling like you.

The kid, the damn kid loves you, adores you. He’s pretty sure he loves you more than he loves him. The way you talk to him with your sweet voice, the way you run over to him whenever he lets out a frustrated cry, the way his kid looks held in your arms as you soothe him.

He was frustrated, he was at his breaking point. You’re so beautiful and so delicate and yet you call him out on his shit, you keep him in line. He’s never wanted anybody like he wants you.

He hated facing you after stepping out of the fresher, always feeling like you can look behind the beskar he’s covered in. Like you know he just came on the shower wall imagining the cold, flat metal is the warm, silky skin of your tits.

Tonight, in the middle of nowhere on this backwater planet, you trounce around the fire in your gauze sleep gown, smiling and laughing as the kid chases you. You look like an angel, lit by the flames licking across your skin casting your body in a deep amber glow. He tries to focus on the gun he’s cleaning to keep his attention off of you but he can’t stop staring. He counts the minutes until it’s the kid’s bedtime. He has to do something about this, either he needs to take you back home or he needs to feel how your cunt feels wrapped around his cock. Taking you home would be easier.

——

“Well, that didn’t take long,” you say, leaning against the opening of the ship.

He nods at you, his helmet still downcast focused on cleaning his armor. He’s gotten used to you obviously, he’ll at least remove a piece of armor in front of you. Never the helmet, you understand that, but seeing him without his usual chest piece makes you so wet he might as well be fully naked.

You’re going mad, the Crest isn’t a big ship and he’s a big man. If you have to feel the cool touch of beskar against your skin as you move past him one more time you just might explode.

You’re used to getting what you want, you’re smart, you’re clever, you’re resolute. Like Karga always tells you, “you have spunk kid, nobody will ever be able to tell you no.” That’s why you put the white nightgown on, he might be wearing a helmet, but you can always tell just how much he likes what you’re wearing by how hard you feel his stare behind that faceless mask, you really feel it whenever you wear this.

“He’s tired,” you walk down the ramp, “I think all I did today was play with him, don’t know why he needed so much attention.”

“He knows you’ll always give him it.”

“Really?” You roll your eyes as you sit across the fire from him. “At least he’ll sleep through the night, you’re welcome by the way.”

“Hm,” he nods, still preoccupied by shining his armor.

“Think it’s shiny enough, big guy?” You lean over, your hands resting on your knees, the neckline of your dress dipping farther down as you lean forward to look at him above the fire.

“Just about,” he’s rubbing his chest plate harder and faster… you know he’s avoiding looking over at you.

“I love how your armor reflects the flames,” your voice coming out lower and huskier. “I love being able to watch the fire burn on your chest, like your heart’s been set aflame.”

His hand pauses, the cloth he was using sits idle against the metal. His helmet tilts up, you feel his eyes back on you.

“Is it shiny enough for me to see that now?”

A single nod before he lifts his armor over his head and attaches it. “I can see,” you whisper.

He stares forward, his eyes are on you, something has shifted in the air of this small circle around the fire.

You lean even more forward, the plush of your breasts almost spilling out of your dress. You watch his chest rise as he takes a deep breath in.

“I wish I could shine like you,” your confession leaving your mouth as you run a hand up and down your neck and chest.

“You shine,” the modulated voice sizzles through you.

“Yeah? How bright can I shine for you tonight?” Your hand dipping underneath the fabric of your dress petting back and forth across your breasts.

“As bright as you want for me.”

“Sure about that? I can burn really bright. Can I see if I burn bright in your armor?”

He straightens, sitting taller and nods.

You rise off the rock, grabbing the bottom of your dress as you stand, lifting it up over your head.

You pad over to him naked, the crisp breeze of the forest hitting your skin. It truly feels like you’re the only two people on this whole planet. His hands clench into fists as you stand in front of him.

“Can’t see much, just the outline of my body in the flickering light. What do you see?”

“You,” the modulated crackling as he chokes out, “all of you.”

You lift one of his hands, grabbing the edge of his glove. “Can I?”

He nods.

You remove it. Thick fingers, well manicured short nails, trails of veins running through strong muscles. Your cunt begins to weep as you think of what his hand would feel like between your legs. You’ve seen his bare hands before, sometimes he gives the kid it to entertain himself with, sometimes he needs his hand bare to repair something. But, you’ve never seen it this close. It’s the only body part you’ve seen of his, you imagine the rest of him to be just as golden, just as toned, just as thick as his hand.

You rest it on your hip, a moan escapes your mouth at the contact. He lets out a huff of modulated air as he grips your skin.

“Maker,” you whisper into the night sky, just his hand on you igniting something powerful. He tests you, running a lazy line up to your chest and back down to your hips, the path sets your skin ablaze. You want him to go lower, you want one of his thick fingers to push inside, you want him to feel how wet you are.

“See, sometimes you shine too bright, and it does things to me. Sometimes I can’t look away and it makes being around you really hard for me and I have to sneak my hand down at night ‘n try to dull that ache. I think you feel the same way… sometimes I can hear you in that fresher,” his head raises towards you, his grip tightening now searing against your skin, “the walls are thin.”

“I hear you… I-I listen.” Maker, his voice. You’ve never heard his voice this way, the shame dripping out of the tinny speakers.

Your eyebrow raises at his confession. “You listen to me?”

A solemn nod, downcast.

“Hey,” you touch the edge of his helmet, lifting it so he can look at you. This is the first time you’ve ever touched it. In fact, this is the first time you’ve actually touched him, besides a quick brush as you move past or put the baby in his arms. “I like that. Would you watch me if you could?”

His helmet nods in your hold.

You can feel the tensity radiating off of him, you know he’s a hunter you know that under all of those layers he’s screaming to get out, to attack you, to make you his bounty.

“You know, I see you hunt people all of the time. I can’t explain what it does to me to see your big body in the distance walking towards us and the ship, your bounty cuffed and subservient to you. I love the power you hold, but I think you’d like someone else to have that power over you. Am I right?”

“Yes.”

“Can I have that power over you?”

“Yes.”

“You want to watch me?”

He nods.

You turn away from him, grabbing the blanket folded on the rock you were using earlier to look up at the stars with the kid, laying it on the ground by the fire. You settle yourself on it, the warmth from the flames heating your body. You lean back on your hands, locking your knees together.

“Tell me what you want to see, you’re such a being of few words, talk to me.”

“Open your legs.”

You separate your legs, spreading them open, your pussy is on full display for him, dripping for him. His hands rest on his knees as he leans forward.

“Touch yourself,” he whispers out.

You trail your hand down to in between your legs, rubbing a line from your clit to your hole.

“Am I shining here for you?”

“Yes,” the modulator crackles as he hisses.

Your fingers light a trail around your clit, your hips cant up whenever you rub against the tight bundle of nerves. You’re putting on a show for him, biting your lip and staring straight forward into the small window of his helmet. Even though you can’t see them, you know his eyes are only focused on you. You moan into the night, tilting your head back to look at the stars as your finger dips into your entrance.

You can hear his breathing over the squelchy sound of your finger pumping in and out of you, your head turning back down towards him when you hear a low groan. His hands are gripping his knees, he’s leaning over as far as he can as he watches you fuck yourself.

The way his large shoulders are rising and falling rapidly as his breathing quickens makes your body ache, your palm knocks against your clit as you add another finger and fuck yourself.

“Do you want me to cum for you like this?”

“C-c-can I touch you when you do?”

Oh, his voice. It’s so heavy and yet so light. You’ve never heard it like this, he sounds so young, so excited, so unlike the scary Mandalorian that secretly intimidates you, not that you’d ever let him know.

“Come here,” you shuffle your feet wider, spreading your legs as far as you can. “Kneel down.”

He moves lightning quick, a dash of metal appearing in between your legs. He’s so fucking big, so fucking broad, so fucking handsome, so fucking strong, he drives you crazy and all you’ve ever seen of him is his hand.

He takes his other glove off and throwing it to the side before tentatively placing his hands on your knees, the feel of his rough palms planting against your soft skin bringing you closer to your climax.

“Cum for me,” he whispers. You wish he didn’t have that damn helmet, you wish his real voice could float across the air and land against your cunt.

His hands grip you harder as your hips begin to rise and fall while you writhe against the soft blanket, your cunt tightening around your fingers as you pull yourself onto the cliff and leap down into the ocean of your pleasure.

You don’t break eye contact with Mando, his firm stare you feel behind that damned black shield shattering your heart and your pussy into a million pieces as you scream out into the vast wilderness of the night.

His hands chart a path across your knees, his touch so gentle versus the way he was just clutching you as you came for him.

“Did I shine for you?” Your voice comes out smaller and more delicate than you wanted.

“Brightly.”

“Can I make you shine bright for me?”

“Yes.”

“Can I have my way with you, the way I want it? The way I’ve dreamed about taking you?” You sit up, his hands still rub your legs, as if once you’ve given him permission to touch you it’s all he wants to do now.

He nods.

You turn your head to the side, looking at all of his now clean weapons laid out on the table. The binders are still there, their presence has been on your mind since you saw him pick them up earlier to clean.

“Can I borrow something from over there?”

“What?”

“Can I borrow your binders?”

“Y-yes.”

You rise up off the blanket, moving quickly to pick them up, as if you don’t do this right now, he’s going to back out. You’re now the hunter. You pick them up in your hand, they’re heavier than you thought, the metal is cool against your touch.

“Can I cuff you like I caught you… like you’re my bounty?”

His deep growl as he tips his head back shoots a wave of pleasure through your body, you can only assume it matches what he’s currently feeling. You love that the two of you are now sharing in each other’s pleasure instead of hiding it behind the thin metal walls of a spaceship.

“Yes.”

You can’t hide your smile as you stalk towards him, like he’s now caught and you’re ready to get your reward. He hasn’t moved from where he knelt in front of you as he watched you fuck yourself.

“Can you take your vambraces off for me?”

He deftly removes them without a word, laying them next to him.

“Can you do something else for me?”

He nods.

“Can you show me how to turn your volume and display off in your helmet? You saw my cunt, you heard me fuck myself, but you’ve never felt my pussy or mouth. I want you to only feel it now.”

“Dank farrik,” he grunts. “Yes.”

He picks up a vambrace, putting in a couple of codes, his fingers driving you crazy as they move across the small buttons.

“Press this when you want it,” he pants out as he hands it to you.

“Thank you. Put your hands in front, raise them up.”

He follows your instructions. He looks so good like this, kneeling in front of you ready to serve, you like having this power over him. This must be how he feels whenever he catches his prey.

You grab one of his arms, pushing the sleeve up of his flight suit. His skin is just as bronzed as you expected it to be, born that way, hidden away for years underneath fabric and armor. You do the same with the other arm, the sight of his toned and hairy forearms causing a wave of heat to spread over your body.

You put a cuff over his wrist, locking it in place. You look up at him, checking to make sure he’s okay with this. He nods his approval as you slip the other cuff on and lock it. He’s now bound, still kneeling, his thick legs supporting him as he lowers his hands down.

“Good?” You whisper as you stand tall in front of him. “Lay on your back, put your arms over your head.”

You’ll never not be shocked at how big he is, yet how easily he moves in his large body. He takes up the whole blanket. Your mouth waters as you notice how his pants are tented as he lays down for you.

“I promise I won’t remove any more armor or your helmet, but I will help myself to you. I want you to be as loud as you can be, let yourself go, let me have the power, you deserve it. I’m going to turn off the display and your sound, is that okay?”

“Yes, Maker, yes.”

“If you need me, say Lothal,” you hit the button he showed you, Din’s head thuds against the dirt as you imagine he’s now cast in complete darkness and silence. You listen to his deep breathing as you look down at him. Fuck, this is going to be good.

You settle on the ground kneeling between his spread legs, just like he did for you. Your hands move across the rough fabric of his flight suit, his hoarse groan rumbles through his body when you caress his thighs.

“That’s it, that’s it baby,” you whisper to nobody, the thrill of seeing him like this letting go for you makes your head spin.

The shape of his hard cock straining against the zipper of his flight suit beckons you. You run a hand across it, his whole body shudders. He’s panting, the sounds of his struggle soaring into the air causing goosebumps to prickle against your skin and your cunt to clench.

You lick your lips as you unzip the zipper, grabbing the heft of him and lifting it out. Maker, Maker, Maker. He’s so wide and firm, just like you knew he would be. Swollen, throbbing, fucking gorgeous, precum leaking down his tip.

He lets out a rasped “ahhh” as you wrap your fist around his length. His skin is so soft, so silky, so firm. Your thumb swipes across his tip, collecting the precum on the pad of it, bringing it to your mouth to taste him. He tastes delicious… salty and musky. You sit back and watch him lay there vulnerable only for you, his exposed cock twitching in the light of the fire. Your head, heart, and core are heavy with want for this mystery of a man… you wonder if anybody has ever had him like you do right now.

“Mesh’la?” His voice breaks you out of your daze. Mando’a, you’ve never heard him speak it. You make a note to yourself to look that word up on your datapad later.

“I’m here,” you say before realizing he can’t hear you. You place a hand on his thigh and gently squeeze it as you lay in between his thick thighs, his legs caging you in.

You angle your head forward and seal your mouth over the head of his cock, his whole body shivers as you suck him. He feels so good in your mouth, you love the slight stretch of your lips as you move his length down your throat.

Your eyes water as you take him all the way down, his tip hitting the back of your throat making you gag around him. You slide him out of your mouth, grabbing him at the base and slapping his length against your lips, you revel in the sting it leaves against your skin as you stick him back in and bob your mouth up and down, your tongue tasting the salt of his skin.

You hollow your cheeks around him, the combined sounds of ecstasy coming out of the speakers of his helmet mixed with the slurp of your lips soundtrack the night as his hips begin to lift when he begins fucking into your mouth.

You know he’s close, the way his moans garble, the way his hips begin to stutter as you swirl your tongue against him. He chokes out a protest as you slip him out of your mouth, leaving him pulsing. You’re selfish, you want what you want and he’s given you the opportunity tonight to take whatever you want from him.

You grab his vambrace before sitting down and straddling his thighs. Reaching down you grab his cock, angling him to rub between your soaked folds, the tip bumps against your swollen clit and you yelp.

You want him to watch, you want him to hear. You hit the button on his vambrace, his helmet instantly pops up, the black T of his helmet angled to look right at the apex of your thighs.

“Wanted you to see this,” you say as you rise up, grabbing his cock and slowly sinking yourself down on it.

Your body accepts all of him as you roll your hips, getting comfortable around the feeling of being stuffed so full of him.

“You feel so good in me, I knew you would, let me do the work, let me fuck you,” you whimper as he stretches your tight hole.

You use him to fuck yourself, he lays perfectly still like you asked him, you never imagined he’d listen so well to your instructions. He’s panting for you, his arms still raised above his head, his wrists straining against the cuffs, hands forming tight fists as you begin to pound him.

You move your hand down to start rubbing circles around your clit, you’re on the edge of another orgasm, you can tell he’s even closer.

“You can cum for me, I have the implant, I want to feel you pump your cum inside me, cum for me Mando.”

His helmet bobbles as his body shudders underneath you.

It destroys you, the feel of his big cock spearing you as he empties himself into you, the sound of the garbled words he’s grunting as he tilts his hips up into you, the feel of your fingers tracing your clit, the heat of the fire warming your already feverish body.

You strangle his cock as you orgasm, your slick mixing with his spend inside you as you lean forward on him, laying your body on top of his. You reach up and remove both cuffs, throwing them to the side as he shakes each hand out. You stare into his helmet, you can make out the reflection of your face in the black T of his visor.

“I can see myself shining in you now,” you say as he wraps his arms around you.

#din djarin fic #din djarin ff #Mandalorian fic #din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin smut #pedro pascal #mandalorian smut #din djarin x reader #mandalorian x you #pedro pascal character fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction #mandalorian fanfic #Mandalorian ff #din djarin one shot

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lincolndjarin · 9 months

Text

Best Kept Secret

chapter twenty one : te mirci't

ao3 link ✿ series masterlist ✩ main masterlist ✧

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 9.0k

summary : reader does a lot of thinking, and a lot of expressing of said thoughts

warnings, etc. : language, angst, canon typical violence, smut smut smut smut, p in v smut, food play sort of kind of, din djarin nearly creams his pants over the concept of domesticity, sort of a dom/sub thing, switch!reader & switch!mando, din has a breeding kink and it's addressed, reader has like zero chill this chapter, dirty talk, men whimpering (hooray!), light bondage, use of handcuffs, unprotected sex

a/n : ik y'all are hype about breeding kink din but i'm gonna real quick say that i will not throw in like a surprise pregnancy in this fic, cause it hasn't been tagged with that thus far and sometimes it irks me when i'm knee deep in a fic and suddenly the reader is pregnant without warning and it wasn’t tagged,, so yeah. it would be different if i advertised this as a pregnancy fic from the get go but i didn't so i'm not gonna spring that on people. (reader could still potentially end up pregnant at the END of the fic (possibly maybe who knows) but there will not be any surprise pregnancy, sorry!) that's it lmao, just wanted to throw that out there.

“It means I love you.”

You aren’t entirely sure how long you stare at him, looking rather silly with your jaw practically on the floor.

How many times has he said it without you even knowing? How long has he loved you? Maker, your mind is racing as you try to recall when the first time he said it would have been.

You’ve already said it to him.

Albeit you didn’t realize what you were saying but you’d said those words to him. And hearing you say them had worked him up so much that he’d fucked you like it was his last night alive.

He doesn’t seem to have much to say now that he’s dropped that bomb on you. You just stare at each other in this blistering silence for an eternity. Until the smell of burning has you shooting out of bed, scrambling towards the oven as you grab the lone oven mit off the counter, removing the smoking baking trays quickly, propping open the single window above the sink and tossing the ruined cakes under the faucet.

“Kriff.” You lean up against the counter, staring at where he’s currently getting up from the bed to join you. Are you a terrible person if you just ignore it? Because currently the last thing you want to do is think about it. “I’m gonna start a new batch, I lost track of time with this one.” You whisper towards him, never actually meeting that thin black line of his helmet.

“You don’t have to say it back.” He whispers back to you, taking a seat at the table.

You know you don’t have to.

Honestly the pressure of having to say it is the least of your worries. The most troubling part of this situation is the question that now plagues you which is, do you love him?

You rinse out the last batch of batter from the bowl before starting a new one.

You’ve always been so hesitant with him. Even from the start. You wouldn’t let yourself think about him, then you wouldn’t let yourself feel for him, care for him, want him. At one point you wouldn’t even let yourself like him.

So to think about if you love him?

The only thing you’ve ever let yourself do is hate him. And you never even really did that.

“I didn’t mean to upset you.” He leans forward in his chair, his elbows resting on his knees.

Shit. You’ve been quiet for too long.

“I’m fine, sorry, just… upset about the cakes.” You both know it’s a lie. But neither of you says a thing. He just nods. You work in silence, willing your mind to think of anything else as you scrape the burnt cake tin off into the sink before refilling it with the new batch of batter. As you slide the tin into the oven you turn, unable to face him you turn your gaze elsewhere, to the single shelf in his home.

A few days ago when you were here it was covered in assorted pieces of metal and scrap. Now it’s mostly bare. In a desperate attempt to change the subject you walk over, picking up one of the few remaining scraps.

“What happened to all your stuff? You hold a small metal ball between your fingers as he walks up behind you, resting his head on your shoulder as he leans down. You feel the chill of beskar against your skin.

“I used it all.” He’s still being far too vague about all this and you frown, holding the ball up in front of his face.

“You forgot this piece.” He takes it from you as you say it, you don’t remember him taking his gloves off but they are, his bare hands holding it like it’s a precious gemstone.

“This isn’t a part of my secret project,” He murmurs, rolling the ball between his fingers. “this belonged to the kid.”

You have to remind yourself not to pry, that you promised yourself you’d let him talk about it on his own. His free hand snakes around your waist as he stares longingly at the metal piece, you say nothing, giving him the option to go on if he wants. After a brief moment of pause, he continues.

“I tried to buy him a proper toy. Just once. He used to play with this, I thought maybe he was just bored because we spent so much time on the Crest. On one of my jobs I stopped and got him this little stuffed frog toy.”

You think of the frog he picked up from the lake all those moons ago. A pang of sorrow in your chest.

Every time he talks about the kid it seems like he’s talking more to himself than to you, this time is no different. He adjusts himself, standing up straighter so his chin rests atop your head now. He sways you gently to a song that only he hears.

“He tried to eat the damn thing, I tried to explain that it wasn’t for eating but he didn’t seem to care. Once he realized I wasn’t gonna let him eat it he lost interest, threw it into the fresher and went off to find this again.” He sets the ball back onto the shelf and just holds you for a moment. Just when you’re about to reach down to touch the hand he’s resting on your stomach he speaks again, in a whisper, like he isn’t sure he wants you to hear what he’s saying. “I used to worry that he was bored. Spending so much time on the ship with just me, without any of the things a child usually grows up with.” His grip on your waist tightens. “I thought for the longest time that he’d be happier somewhere else. Now I wonder if maybe he was content with what we had.”

The more you let him talk out his feelings the more you realize that deep down Din is one thing above all.

Someone who doesn’t think he is deserving of love.

You turn around in his grip so you’re facing him and don’t hesitate to wrap your arms around his waist, holding him tight. You might not be ready to tell him you love him but that doesn’t mean you can’t show him that he is cared for. He doesn’t move for a moment but eventually holds you back.

He makes no effort to pull away so you don’t either. Staying like that until you have to get the cakes out of the oven before you burn another batch. He follows you in silence as you set the new batch on the table, he reaches for one and you smack his hand away.

“You’re gonna burn your hand, stop that. And I still need to frost them.”

You turn back to the book for the recipe, happy that the two of you seem to be in mutual agreement to not talk about the current situation. As you start pouring the sugar to make the icing you hear a hiss of air, on instinct you turn to face the noise, not realizing until it’s too late that you shouldn’t.

You should feel regret.

But Maker, how could you.

Your eyes fixed on the way he parts his plush lips to take the chunk of pastry he tore off into his mouth, his finger lingering on his bottom lip and that tongue. Darting out to lick his fingers clean. The way the corners of his mouth turn up ever so slightly. You know you shouldn’t look, he’s got the helmet pulled up just enough that you can see the tip of his nose which means he doesn’t even know you’re looking, there’s metal between his eyes and you. You can’t, this is so bad, shit. You just keep finding reasons to not look away, especially now that he’s smiling. You always thought his smile would be condescending, maybe a triumphant smirk, but it’s so… dorky. He’s got such a dopey grin.

Stars, he’s got a dimple.

Are you still breathing?

And you can finally see the facial hair you’ve only ever felt brush up against you. Surprisingly well kept, with a few small bare patches. You want nothing more than to lean forward and kiss each one of them but you’re quickly reminded of how bad this entire situation is as you hastily turn back around. Stirring the bowl in front of you, acting as if nothing happened. Only a few seconds after you’re facing the counter again do you hear the airlock reseal.

You hear a sharp inhale and a part of you worries he knows you accidentally looked but he hisses again before cursing.

“Fuck, that’s hot.” You can hear him breathing heavily through his mouth into the modulator.

Thank the gods.

“I warned you.” You chastise him, turning around and pouring a generous amount of the cinnamon sugar icing onto each of the cakes while they’re still hot so it absorbs into them. “These need to sit overnight in the conservator.”

“Okay, should I put them in now or when I get back tonight?”

You know what he’s really asking.

He wants to know if he’ll be staying with you or coming home alone.

The answer is obvious to you as you nudge the conservator open with your foot, sliding the tins onto one of the shelves.

“I’ll do this now since you won’t be around to. Should we go?” You slip your shoes back on, watching as a bit of tension leaves his shoulders.

“Sure.”

★

It’s a quiet walk back but it isn’t really uncomfortable. You just want to get him back to your room, where he’ll hopefully help you forget about this whole mess.

You waste no time when you get to your chambers. You drag him to the closet, struggling to remove his armor, carefully setting each piece on the floor while he simultaneously lifts your shirt up over your head. Once you have every piece of beskar removed, you find yourself tumbling to the floor as he practically tackles you into the blankets. Both of you fumble for the lamp until finally you manage to flip the switch and it’s like he can’t get the helmet off fast enough because in what feels like a single second, you’re shrouded in darkness, you hear the the sound of air, a thud onto the ground, and his lips are on yours.

You’re waiting for something more to happen, he’d been so urgent just a moment ago but now that you’re here he’s just kissing you.

Of course you aren’t complaining. Every kiss with him feels like a blessing from the Maker themself. You’re just a little surprised.

You had sort of hoped he had plans to ravage you solely for the purpose of distracting you from the question, still searing your every thought, demanding your attention. But instead he kisses you one last time before laying atop your chest, arms wrapped around you. You think about teasing him but there’s something cathartic about this. His willingness to just be with you without searching for more. So you let him.

And when he inevitably falls asleep, his monstrous snores filling the small space, you’re left alone with your thoughts.

Well, thought.

Do you love him?

Do you want to love him?

Loving him means too much.

You tangle your fingers in his curls, in an attempt to soothe yourself.

Loving him is complicated. It means you’ll have to finally answer the rest of the questions you don’t want to so much as think about.

Kids? Marriage? Kodo? Any sort of future.

Loving him puts him at risk.

He’s always been at risk. His choice to love you meant putting his life on the line. Everyday he wanted to be yours was a day that he could be dragged off by one of your husbands unlimited guard members and killed.

Loving him means understanding that you’re on a clock. A clock to get off of Naboo as quickly as possible, to somewhere far away to hunker down. To hide from the inevitable onslaught of search parties that would come after a missing royal.

They’d send bounty hunters.

Kodo doesn’t even like you, but if you ran off with the man he hired to protect you? He would stop at nothing to get you back. The thought of what he would do to Din when he inevitably found the two of you makes your blood run cold.

But you need to push those thoughts away. Yes, they are important but they shouldn’t impact your feelings. Because at the end of the day you either love him or you don’t.

And you can’t even seem to figure that out.

You’ve never been in love before, you don’t really have a frame of reference.

You’ve certainly never felt for anyone the way you feel for him.

Is that love?

If you weren’t already married would you have said it back?

You aren’t even really a wife at this point.

You’re a prisoner.

You aren’t sure when he woke up but he brings you back to reality with a kiss to your chest.

“You should be asleep, princess.” His voice is gravely, still thick with exhaustion. You run your hands along his vast shoulders in an attempt to soothe him back to sleep.

“So should you.” You whisper into the darkness, he hums softly in response.

It goes quiet again. His arms tighten around you and you know he remains awake, every so often he’ll place a chaste kiss to your breast.

Would it be cruel to bring it up again?

At this point he doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest that you didn’t reciprocate the sentiment and you can’t keep fighting these battles alone.

If you love each other, talking about these things is something you would do.

It might be nice. To not be alone with these thoughts for once.

“Din?”

He hums again in response. You feel the scratch of his stubble against your chest as his head turns in your direction.

You should let him sleep. Shut up and not bother him with this.

“What does love mean to you?”

It’s such a corny question but you really are curious.

“What did you say?” For a moment you’re worried you’ve upset him but his tone makes you think he genuinely didn’t hear you.

“What’s it like, to love someone?”

He chuckles softly and a wave of relief washes over you.

“That’s an awfully complicated question, cyare.”

“Okay, then, how did you know?” You purposefully avoid saying the words, “that you loved me.”

“It sort of snuck up on me. It started my first week with you, when being with you started feeling less like a job and more like an honor.”

Does he have to be so good with words? Even in this state, barely awake, he manages to be a goddamn poet.

“Eventually it got to a point where I couldn’t ignore it anymore.” He mumbles his words into your skin.

“When was that?”

“When you gave me a birthday.”

Right before he had ended things.

You don’t have to ask to know now that that's why he did it.

“And that was when you were sure?”

“Yes. That was when I knew I loved you.”

If he’s upset about you not saying it back he doesn’t make it known, he says it so casually.

“What does it feel like?” You run your fingers along the scar on the back of his head.

“It feels like being afraid. There is a certain vein of fear that I had never known prior to meeting the kid, when I los-“ He hesitates. “When he left, I didn’t think I’d ever feel that fear again.” He sighs. “When I met you I learned how to be afraid all over again.”

You sort of understand that feeling.

You felt it when you thought Kodo knew. And you felt it when you imagined Kodo’s reaction to your hypothetical children with Din.

You felt it just moments ago. When you asked yourself if you loved him.

“It’s like all the air leaves the room, replaced with terror. That terror eats away at everything until there’s nothing left.”

All you can think of is the night you found him in the hallway, and you’re certain you’ve never felt that level of fear.

“It’s not all fear though. I assume it’s different for everyone but the fear is only a part of it. For me it mostly feels like devotion and temptation. I know what it is to be devoted, for decades I followed my creed without question, and when I finally did abandon it, it was a matter of life and death, fueled by that fear.”

He sounds half asleep as he says it, like he’s telling himself a bedtime story, and you don’t dare interrupt.

“That’s how I feel about you, except in your case, nothing could make me question my devotion to you, not even a matter of life and death. And as far as temptation goes…” He laughs quietly to himself. “I was unfamiliar with that feeling before you.”

“Temptation?” You whisper to him.

“When will you understand what you are to me, sarad’ika?” He sits up a little, you can’t see him but you feel his nose bump against your jaw as he rests his face in the crook of your neck.

“I know how you feel about me, you tell me quite often.” You’re only half-joking.

“Not how I feel about you, what you are to me. You are so much more than the one I never meant to love, I swear you were created just to tempt me.” You let your hand rest on the nape of his neck as he absentmindedly brushes his lips up against your throat. “If you asked me to remove my helmet, I would.” He murmurs against your throat.

That’s a rather serious claim.

“You could have asked me from the moment I met you. It took time for me to realize I loved you but I have always, been sworn to you.” His fingers trail up and down your torso. “From the moment I first saw you, when you tried to remove my helmet, I promised myself that if you ever tried again, that I wouldn’t stop you.

Maker.

How the fuck do you respond to that?

“We can talk more in the morning. Get some sleep.” He kisses your temple and lays back down against your chest.

He can be annoyingly eloquent when he wants too. You can’t help but wish you were as capable of putting your feelings into words the way he does. Seriously, how are you supposed to top, “When I met you I learned how to be afraid all over again.”

Maybe tomorrow you could try and show him how much he means to you. Since you can’t seem to find the right thing to say, and even if you could he’s already asleep again, snoring at an ungodly volume like he didn’t just profess his profound love to you.

But talking to him helped, from how he describes it, you might just love him too.

★

This morning is much more coordinated than your last.

Din wakes you up before the girls arrive. You have plenty of time to pick out one of the simpler pink gowns in your collection, along with a matching pair of slippers. You leave him there with plenty of time to spare.

The girls don’t question it this time either. Neither of them tries to go into the closet and they waste no time dressing you. Lysa finds you a nice pink nightie from the dresser but you honestly aren’t all that thrilled about it this time around.

It’s getting harder and harder to care about this.

Being dressed up like a doll every day.

Din certainly doesn’t care about what you look like so why even bother at this point? You’re antsy to get back to him and you’re about to hastily thank and dismiss the girls as they finish but Elaine speaks first.

“Princess, would you join me for tea this morning?”

You have no logical reason to refuse and you do enjoy time spent with Elaine.

You just want to be with Din.

But you can’t tell her that.

“Certainly, shall I meet you in the gardens again?”

“I will see you there, my lady.” Both girls give you small bows before leaving. Only a few seconds after they’re gone the closet door opens and there stands your Mandalorian. He makes his way to you, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close.

“Shall I escort you to the gardens, my lady?” He leans down a bit so your eyes are level with the line of his visor.

“Lead the way.”

It’s a short walk and you’re once again surprised by how quickly Elaine has set things up, a table and chairs wait for you in the gazebo.

“Do you think you could find something to do for a few minutes on your own?” You say quietly enough that you know only he can hear it as you approach.

He doesn’t respond but as you step into the gazebo he doesn’t follow you in, once you’re seated he walks off into the garden.

“Seems like things are better between the two of you?” She pours you a cup, making it the way you like it before handing you the saucer.

“Much better.” You smile as you take a sip.

“May I speak freely ma’am?” She sets her cup down and crosses her arms, staring at you. Her tone has gotten so serious so suddenly you’re a bit stunned.

“Of course.”

“Lysa and I stopped coming to help you undress in the evenings many moons ago, we stopped waiting for you to summon us.”

What a strange thing to say.

“Okay?” Is all you can manage, still unsure as to what she could possibly mean by that statement.

“Well, my lady, we just assumed you didn’t need the help anymore…” She stares at you expectantly but you’re still giving her a confused look. “You know…” Her eyebrows are raised but you just shake your head slowly, giving her a blank stare. “With getting undressed.”

Oh.

Not much you can really say about that, she’s right, and you hadn’t even noticed because someone else was undressing you. Still, she can’t expect you to outright admit that.

“I don’t need you to say a word, my lady, I just needed to talk to you, to warn you.” Something about her tone makes you shiver, even out here in the sun.

“About?”

“You’ve been reckless, princess.” You set your cup down.

“Spit it out Elaine, you’re making me nervous.” You laugh anxiously but her expression remains stern.

“Kodo won’t take your absence from dinner lightly. And you’ve been too blatant about your friendship with the Mandalorian. You should act with more caution.”

Well, you had wanted her to be blunt, you can’t be too shocked about that.

“He is not a man who takes kindly to disrespect. He will retaliate if you aren’t careful, that’s all.” You nod as she takes a sip of her tea.

That’s all she says on the subject, quickly moving on to another topic.

Her warning was genuine and you’re thankful for it but you push it from your mind. You will right this wrong and attend dinner with Kodo this week.

★

Tea is short after that.

You aren’t in the mood for small talk anymore, you just want to spend the rest of the day with Din.

You whisper a genuine thanks to her before she departs, and you rush over to where he stands in the flowers.

“Cabin?” He asks. Thankfully he doesn’t risk holding your hand in broad daylight but he lets his knuckles brush against yours.

“Cabin.” You follow him towards the pond and once you’re close enough he scoops you up into his arms to keep you out of the water. “Din! What if someone sees?” You whisper yell at him, eyes scanning the vacant gardens.

“This isn’t any less damning than you walking in on your own. Besides, no one’s around, promise.” He pushes open the door before setting you down, locking up behind the two of you. “I’ve lived here for long enough to know that nobody comes out this far except us. Now, what do you want for the rest of the day?” He kicks off his boots and you set your slippers next to them.

It’s past noon at this point, you have nothing planned.

“Do you want to just stay here? I think today I just want to stay here.” You walk over to the bed, lifting your skirt and taking a seat.

“Works for me, I’m going to get some chores done if you don’t mind.” He removes his gloves, tossing them on the table before kneeling beside the dresser.

“I don’t mind at all.” You scoot back a bit to rest against the wall, you’re actually quite curious to see what he’ll do, and you need time to think of how you’re going to show him how much he means to you.

You watch as he takes out different weapons and tech that you don’t recognize. He tosses his gloves to the side and starts methodically cleaning every item.

You’re sort of hypnotized by his attention to detail, it lets you think.

What does he like?

Green, you, the kid, classic ships.

None of those things can really show him how much he means to you though.

He’s setting different things aside as he finishes any maintenance required, every so often he looks up at you before returning to his work. You feel a little useless just sitting here so you get up to take the cakes out of the conservator.

Suddenly you have his attention.

You don’t dare say a word, letting him just observe in peace. He drops whatever he’s working on, you don’t look but you can feel his visor trained on you.

You take the tins out, setting them on the table before finding a dull knife. Each cake is small enough that you can fit your hands around each tin if you hold your fingers in the shape of a circle. You carve each cake out of its tin and he watches you intently the entire time, you can see him in your peripherals.

So he likes… watching you do a shitty job at taking cakes out of tins?

It’s crass but you go through the list of things that have worked him up before. Things you’ve said to get him to give you what you want during sex.

Two instances come to mind.

The time you unknowingly said I love you.

And then last night, when you told him he could finish inside you.

And now? Your head tilts up just in time to watch him adjust himself in his trousers before sheepishly tuning back to his work when you catch him watching you. It takes a second but eventually things start to click.

He likes watching you look at home in his cabin. He likes the intimate feeling of a simple life. Watching you bake, saying I love you, having kids.

Things a normal couple might do.

He tosses something up onto the bed, you stare at it for a moment as he starts putting other things back into the dresser.

Handcuffs.

Thick, padded, and metal.

You know he intends on using them on you but you act fast, hurrying over to him, taking his hand.

“What are you doing mesh’la?” He chuckles as you sit him down on the bed.

This is gonna be a shot in the dark, but if you’re confident enough, (and right) it’ll be worth it.

“Just, let me take care of you.”

“You already take care of me.” He insists, starting to get up but you firmly plant your hands on his shoulders, pushing him back down. Your plan is rapidly forming in your mind.

“I mean it, now stay put.” He sighs loudly but nods, tilting his head to the side in confusion. No sense in being coy, might as well be clear with your intentions to see if he’s actually into it. “Don’t be a baby, I know you get off on this kind of thing.” The moment you say it he scoffs but you’re already across the room, taking one of the little cakes and putting it onto a plate.

“Excuse me?” “His voice is already terribly defensive but you just laugh it off.

“You’re not the only one who can make observations. You think I didn’t notice the way your tone switched when I offered to bake for you?” He starts to argue but you cut him off. “And I’m definitely not going to ignore how quickly you came when I told you you could finish inside of me.” That surprisingly shuts him up. This might actually be the only time you’ve caught him so off guard that he doesn’t have a response.

You bring the plate over to the bed, setting it on his nightstand.

“You like domesticity.” You lean in to whisper to him. “You want me to take care of you, don’t you Mr. Tough Mandalorian?” You can’t gauge his reaction because of the helmet but you can gauge the tent in his pants perfectly fine.

“Djarin.” He certainly doesn’t sound stern now.

“Djarin?”

“Din Djarin.” You hadn’t even realized until just now that you didn’t know his last name.

You straddle one of his thighs, spreading his legs with your knees.

“Well then, let me take care of you, Din Djarin.” You like the way his name feels in your mouth and based on the way his cock twitches against your leg you’d reckon he does too.

He’s always been so open with you and you’ve always kept him at a distance.

Right here right now, if you weren’t dealing with the worst possible circumstances (your husband), you know that you’d tell him you love him, that you ache for him, that you know fear because of him. You know you love him. And you’re pretty sure he knows it too.

You just aren’t ready to say it.

So you’ll have to show it. (And maybe say a few things that you are ready to say.)

You love each other, at the end of the day you can’t keep censoring yourself when you think about him, he doesn’t deserve that.

You want to show him what he deserves.

You reach behind him and grab the cuffs. As you do his hands wrap around you to tug at your corset strings, an act that he’s getting rather good at.

“You gonna put those on for me, mesh’la?” He drawls. Once he’s loosened your corset enough so that you’ll be able slip out of it you lean back again.

“No.” You grin at him and he immediately shakes his head.

“Absolutely not.” He says the moment you start smiling.

“You’re always in charge, just let me be in charge, I’m doing this for you.” You grab one of his wrists but he easily pulls it away.

“You were in charge last time.”

True, but irrelevant.

“Do you love me?” You stick your bottom lip out a little.

“You’re terrible.”

“I know.” But it works, because when you grab his wrist again he doesn’t pull away.

“You know I can get out of these right? Very easily.” He says, watching you close the first cuff around his wrist, removing the belt around his torso and the one around his waist.

“I know that too, but you love me, so you’re going to leave them on until I take them off.

“This feels less like you’re taking care of me and more like I’m your prisoner.” He mumbles.

“Oh hush, you’d be happy either way.” Once again he seems at a loss for words as you cuff his other wrist, he sets his hands in his lap. You smooth out the fabric of his cowl before carefully removing it, folding it and walking it over to the table and setting it down. “I’ll make you a deal.” You say, turning back to face him. “If you don’t like it then I will stop and we can do this your way. But if you don’t then I will assume I was right, and you do want me to take care of you.” You straddle his thigh again and play with one of the releases on his chest plate.

“You’re being purposefully vague. What does taking care of me entail?” The impatience on his voice trails off as you start releasing his chestplate, finding the little locks, undoing them one by one.

“Well… I just think that you like certain things, and I think you’re too embarrassed to admit it.”

“What things?”

You click the last release and remove his chest plate, walking over to the dresser to set it down carefully before returning.

“You like that I baked for you.” You remove his gauntlets, setting them on his nightstand.

“Who wouldn’t like that?” You swear you almost hear him stutter.

“Oh but I think you really like it. Because you know I did it just for you.” You remove his pauldrons and kneel between his legs to remove the pieces of armor on his thighs. “You like when I hold you, you like seeing me here, in your home, in your bed.” You slide his remaining armor down his legs, setting them aside before standing again and spreading his thighs with your knees to slot yourself between them, your hands grip the edges of his helmet.

“Can I?” You whisper.

After a moment's hesitation he nods.

Your fingers snap the airlocks and you gently lift.

Before closing your eyes you allow yourself one peek.

You’re graced with a bashful smile, and you know that it’s okay, so you squeeze your eyes shut and completely remove the helmet, setting it on the bed beside him. Almost as if on instinct he leans forward and you feel his lips on yours as you gently push him back.

“Let me do it, Din.” You laugh softly. “You don’t have to do everything.” You lean forward this time, hands on either side of his face, running your tongue over that bottom lip you wish you could see. “I’m going to take my dress off.” You mumble into his mouth before pulling back, you turn around and quickly slide your gown down your body, you grab the plate on his bedside table before closing your eyes and turning back around. His restrained hands play with the front of your nightie.

“What are you-” His unfiltered voice is like warm honey, deep and raw, but you silence it by putting two fingers from your freehand to where you assume his mouth is. He starts to speak again so you gingerly slide your thumb between his lips and you hear any more questions he might have flicker out.

“Can you go more than five minutes without asking me a question?” The moment you say it his lips purse like he’s going to ask again, you place your thumb over his tongue. Once you’re certain he isn’t going to interrupt your actions again you remove your hand from his face and tear a chunk of the cake off of the plate. “Open.” You laugh softly as you bring your hand towards his mouth, he immediately starts to protest again but you take the opportunity to stuff the pastry into his mouth, you get lucky and actually manage to get it in on the first try.

If you’re being honest, you aren’t completely sure if this is going to work. You’re still acting on a hunch. A very presumptuous hunch, that deep down he wants nothing more than a quiet, soft life.

A home.

Unless of course you’re wrong. In that case you’re going to be rather embarrassed. Which is starting to be a worry as you realize he isn’t moving, two of your fingers just barely past his lips, he still hasn’t moved and you fell you nerves starting to get the best of you, just as you’re about to withdrawal and apologize for the entire silly affair, his lips close around your fingers. You can’t help but gasp at the feeling, accidentally taking a step back in surprise.

His fingers immediately grasp at what fabric they can on your undergarments, trying to pull you closer again. You’re about to say something smug, along the lines of “I told you so.” But you’re stopped dead in your tracks.

Because Maker, he whimpers.

You let him tug you back between his legs. The cold metal of the cuffs brushes against your thighs.

You reach down and tear off another chunk of the cake, his bound hands guide you back to his mouth, which you're shocked to find is still open as you gently feed him. This time you don't flinch back, his lips close around your fingers and his tongue licks them clean.

This is the temptation he spoke of.

You respect his creed. You’ve sort of taken your own creed, a vow to yourself not to look. But right now it takes all of your restraint to not look. Nothing could possibly make you happier than knowing what he must look like right now, lips wrapped around your fingers, trying to pull you closer.

But just like him, you resist those temptations, finally pulling your hand away.

“I told you I’d take care of you.” You whisper, a slight teasing edge to your voice.

“You’re a strange woman, sarad’ika.” He whispers back.

“So you don’t like this?” You tear off a piece for yourself, popping it into your mouth, feeling the icing coat your tongue. You bask in his silence before picking up the remaining pastry, gently feeding him, tossing the plate blindly onto the bed.

The only answer you need to your question is the way his tongue drags across your palm when he’s finished, you waste no time after that to push him down into the mattress. Letting your lips find his.

His mouth tastes just like it did the first time you kissed.

Vanilla.

His arms go over your head, trapping you in his embrace.

“Tell me I was right.” You pull back from him, grinning.

“I wouldn’t exactly go so far as to say that you were right.” His mouth latches to your chin, peppering a trail of kisses back up to your lips but you pull further back, as far as his arms will let you, eyes still shut.

“You’re a terrible liar, you know that right? Because about thirty seconds ago you were quite literally eating out of the palm of my hand.” He continues trying to kiss you to silence you but you keep turning your head to the side, he settles on your jaw eventually.

“That doesn’t prove anything, I’ve barely eaten anything today, maybe I was just hungry.” He mumbles against your skin.

“Mhmm, sure. Are you sure you don’t like playing house? I think you like imagining me as Mrs. Djarin.”

Whoops. Where the hell did that come from?

“Don’t say that.” His voice isn’t playful anymore as he sits up, keeping you in his lap.

“Kriff, I’m sorry Din, that was too fa-” You hear a metal thud behind you on the floor and his hands are no longer cuffed, they hold your waist now.

“If you don’t mean it, don't joke about that.” His breath is hot on your face and his grip on you tightens.

If you don’t mean it.

So you were right.

Your mind screams at you to be rational. You have a husband, there are a million reasons to apologize and to move on from this.

Stop using the husband that was forced upon you as an excuse.

You can’t keep holding back when it comes to Din. It isn’t fair to him. Not when he gives you everything.

“If I do mean it, can I joke about it?” Your voice is the quietest it’s been all day.

He takes your hands and brings them up to his face, so you can feel him nod.

“I’ll keep joking about it if you tell me I’m right. I’ll joke all night long.” You laugh a little as he brings one of your hands to his mouth so he can kiss your wrist.

“You’re right.”

You can’t help yourself.

“About?”

“I like this.” He drags his lips down your arm before dropping it. “I like when you take care of me.”

“Turn the lights off.” He doesn’t hesitate once you say it, the curtains are all already closed

Once the lights are off he flips you onto your back, you hear everything on the bed clatter to the floor as he tosses it aside.

His bed is lower than yours so his hands grab you by your hips, lifting your bottom half into the air a little, making you squeak in surprise.

“Tell me another joke.” He says under his breath as he spreads your legs so he can grind his still clothed erection against you.

“I thought you were going to let me take care of you?” You scoff at him, hearing his zipper.

“I am,” You gasp as he drops you back down onto the mattress, climbing on top of you. “I’m letting you tell me jokes.” You can practically hear his grin as he guides the blunt head of his cock into your folds. Lazily rubbing it against your clit and leaning down to whisper to you. “You started this with all your talk, is that all it was? Talk? I thought you said you meant it?”

You’re trying to remember how he got the upperhand so quickly but it’s hard to concentrate when he keeps nudging himself against your most sensitive spot.

Everything always happens so fast with him, just once you’d like to turn things around on him and have it work.

“I-I meant it.” Is all you really manage to get out, he brings his cock down a bit to tease your entrance, never actually pushing in. His voice has that condescending tone to it that tells you he’s willing to play this game for a while and you hadn’t really factored in just how aroused you’d get during your display a few minutes ago. You’re soaked and there’s a good chance he’s going to draw this out in retaliation. He swipes his tip back up to your clit, the both of you hiss in unison.

You still have one ace up your sleeve as you recall your conversation from last night.

“So you liked one of my offers?”

“I might have been interested in one of them”

One thing you know he wants.

“Come on, sarad’ika. Where are your jokes?” He chuckles against your skin as he kisses your shoulder.

“I was just trying to think of a baking joke. Can you give me a second?” You gasp out as his free hand reaches underneath you to squeeze your ass before coming up to rest on your hip.

“I know you can do better than a baking joke.” You can feel him grin against you now, his teeth lightly graze your shoulder.

“It’s a shame, you would have liked it.” He goes back to teasing your entrance, pressing himself into you just enough to make you squirm but not enough to actually be inside you. You try to shift your hips downwards but his hand keeps you pinned in place.

“I liked your jokes about Mrs. Djarin.”

It’s now or never.

“Well you liked my cooking as well, so I thought I’d make a joke about a bun in the oven, you’d like that wouldn’t you? Filling me u-”

His hips buck forward and his grip on you tightens to the point of a sharp pain. To seemingly both of your surprises, in an instant he’s buried nearly to the hilt in your heat.

“Maker, Din!” You’re gonna have a brand new set of bruises tomorrow.

“Sorry! I, fuck- sorry.” He’s grunting in your ear, not bothering with your shoulder anymore, burying his face into the pillow next to your head.

“Dank farrik, Din…” You’re reeling from the sudden motion, your head tilted back into the mattress. You need to catch your breath but the muffled groans coming from him distract you. The sting from the sudden stretch you're experiencing is quickly fading and you bring your hands up to his head, one resting in his hair and the other at the nape of his neck.

He wanted to make this a game so you’re going to play, and you’re going to win.

You’re still panting a little as you turn your head to the side so you can whisper into his ear.

“Stars Din, it’s that easy to get you worked up, huh?” His breathing is starting to level out, his grip on you lightens up. “I thought I was easy to rile up but look at you, all this just at the thought of a bun in the oven.”

He isn’t making noise anymore, he’s still against you, listening intently as you run a soothing hand down his spine and back up again.

“I can’t imagine what you’re going to be like when you actually get me pregnant.”

You’re surprised by your own words, like your brain is on auto-pilot and you can’t filter yourself but he fucking whines so you don’t care in the slightest. High pitched and needy, muffled by the pillow. His hips start slowly rocking into you and you bite back your moan, wanting to maintain your advantage.

You tangle your fingers into his hair, pulling his head out of the pillow, savoring the whimper that comes from his as you do.

“Oh come on, you can’t even handle the thought of it?” You breathe out the words and his head falls downwards as you release him, he bites your shoulder. “What does it for you?” He unclenches his jaw, starting to bury his face back into the pillow but you pull him back up again.

“Is it just the idea of finishing in me?”

He doesn’t answer, to be fair you’re barely holding it together either at this point.

“Or do you just want everyone to know I’m yours? Want everyone to see that you knocked me up?”

You get your answer with that because he’s trying to bury his face back into the pillow. A low wail leaves his lips as he frantically ruts into you. How quickly everything’s escalated has you hurtling towards your climax and you can tell by the desperate whine that leaves his lips as he presses them into your collar bone that he won’t be far behind.

“I know you can do better than that, Din.” You mock his tone from earlier but he’s unfazed, pounding into you until finally you can’t tease him anymore because he’s reduced you to gasps and moans.

It doesn’t take long after that.

One after the other.

You first, when his hand travels downwards, it takes only a few precise circles rubbed into your clit and your grip tightens in his hair, your walls flutter around him.

Just like that he’s going over the edge with you.

He pulls out, finishing on your stomach.

You shouldn’t feel upset but there's the tiniest bit of disappointment as you feel his cum against your skin.

He collapses onto the bed next to you, pulling you into his arms.

“I love you.” He presses a kiss into your hair.

“I know.”

★

You sit in the quiet dark for a long while, until finally, you have to ask.

“Do you actually want kids someday?” Your voice breaks the silence of the pitch-black room. “Little Djarin’s running around?”

He rolls over so he’s hovering above you now.

“Are you trying to start round two?” He chuckles, resting his forehead against yours, your nose bumps against his. “I’ll need a few more minutes before I can go again, sarad, but I can keep you occupied until then.” He kisses you quickly, already starting to move his mouth south but you stop him.

It’s so effortless right now. To be happy with him, in the darkness, pushing away thoughts of royal responsibilities. Letting yourself be with just Din, even if it’s brief.

“I’ll take that as a yes?” You ask.

“Yes. Someday.” He kisses your sternum, laying down on your chest.

“With me?”

“No, with Elaine.” You smack the back of his head when he says it, he laughs against your skin. “Yes, with you.”

You let him lay on top of you as you nod to yourself.

“Is it weird that everytime we have sex it turns into a competition?” He starts to laugh once more as you say it.

“It’s weird that you keep losing.”

You smack him again.

★

Your peaceful break from reality is brief, as always, as you sit up.

“We have to go. I can’t be out all night.” The last thing you want to do is return to your room right now, you want to stay here, the cabin feels more like home than any room in the castle ever has.

He seems as unhappy with this as you are. The two of you dress in silence once he flicks the lamp back on, you turn around until you hear him reattach his helmet.

You hold his hand on the walk back. You don’t have much to say right now, you’re certain at this point that you’ve made it clear that you love him.

That you just aren’t ready to say it.

And he doesn’t seem to mind.

You’re ready to just sleep. Your blanket nest seems more and more inviting the closer you get to the castle.

The two of you sneak in through the back entrance and as always the castle is quiet at night. You keep your hand in his as you make your way up the steps.

It isn’t until you get to the hallway where your chambers are located that you hear it.

A persistent banging sound and someone yelling incomprehensibly.

Din immediately drops your hand.

Neither of you speaks as you walk but he shifts himself so he’s walking ahead of you, as you get closer you recognize the distinct, nasally voice.

In the dim light of the hall you see Kodo, banging on your bedroom door.

“Wife, come now, you can’t ignore me, I’m your husband.” He hisses, you can smell the alcohol on him from here.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

“Kodo, are you okay?” You plaster on a faux look of concern as you approach, Din tries to put his hand up to stop you but you ignore it.

He turns to stare at you, his clothes are askew and he isn’t even wearing his crown.

“Wife! Where have you been?” He slurs, leaning in for a kiss that you sidestep, he doesn’t seem bothered by your rejection.

“I went on a walk.” You answer quickly and he takes hold of your waist, you try not to look too repulsed.

“You skipped dinner yesterday, dear wife.” He teeters a bit, leaning towards you as you again try to avoid his kiss but this time he holds you firmly in place, it’s sloppy and you have to wipe a bit of spit from your face after.

“I did, I wasn’t feeling well.” Your voice is getting smaller and smaller as you feel fear bubbling in your chest.

“Where are your guards?” There’s no respect in Din’s voice, no “your highness” or “your grace.” No one speaks to Kodo that way, not even you, but he’s too drunk to even notice.

“I dismissed them, as is customary when one is visiting his bride’s chambers.” Kodo lurches forward, his hands sloppily grope the fabric of your skirt and you make an audible groan of discomfort.

“We should get you back to your own chambers, come now dear husband.” You try to sound patient, you know he’s capable of violence and you don’t want to push him in this state.

“Why would we do that, wife? Come now, tonight I shall join you in bed. I missed you last night.” He hisses the words and you know he didn’t miss you in the slightest, this is a punishment.

This is what you get for disobeying.

For skipping your dinner with him.

This is the inevitable thing that has made you unable to tell Din you love him. This looming promise of Kodo.

There’s nothing you could possibly do right now to escape the fate before you. The fear you feel right now is certainly not the fear of love that Din described to you.

But that quickly changes.

You don’t get a chance to react as Din takes a step between you and Kodo, he doesn’t even wind up, he just drives his fist forward and you hear the sickening crunch of your husband's nose just before he slumps to the floor.

As you stare at Din, you know your fear has changed. His shoulders heaving, his rage fills the corridor as you listen to his ragged breaths through the modulator. He turns around to face you, but you just stare at his hand, where the evidence of this potentially deadly mistake is dripping down his fingertips. You have never been more terrified for another person's life the way you are right now for Din.

You’re mesmerized by the little speckles of your husband's blood, a stark contrast to the yellow fingertips of his gloves.

And suddenly it feels like all the air leaves the corridor as you finally look into his visor, you don’t see Din though, all you see is what they’re going to do to him for this.

I am no longer doing taglists so follow @lincolndjarinnotifs and turn on notifications to be notified when new chapters are posted !!

#lincolndjarin #the mandalorian #best kept secret #bks #din djarin #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x you #din dijarin x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin fanfiction #mandalorian smut #din djarin smut

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tommysversion · 1 year

Text

Request Status: Open (Selective)

Pedro Pascal Characters I Write: Din Djarin , Joel Miller, Javier Peña, Oberyn Martell, Javi Gutierrez, Ezra (Prospect), Frankie Morales, Comandante Veracruz, Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels.

Gabriel Luna Characters I Write: Tommy Miller, Boro Polonia.

Be My Future - Din x Reader (Breeding Kink)

Possessive!Din

Touch Starved Din

Teaching Din To Eat You Out

Take It - Dom! Din x Reader (Breeding Kink)

Over Eager, Inexperienced Din

Din Spanks You With His Belt

Din When You're Pregnant

What's In A Name? - Din Djarin x Named OC (SFW)

Din As A Girl Dad (SFW)

Domestic!Din x Teacher!Reader (SFW)

"I'm Not Wearing Underwear" - Prompt

Headcanons

Jealousy, Jealousy - Jealous!Reader x Joel / Jealous!Reader x Tommy (Most Popular Fic!)

Jealousy, Jealousy (Part Two) - Jealous!Reader x Joel

Joel's Kinks

That's My Girl - Jealous, Possessive Joel x Reader

Differences Between Game!Joel & Show!Joel

Playing Rough - Joel x Reader (ft spanking & the knife handle).

Mine - Possessive!Reader x Joel

DBF! Joel Catching You Staring At His Arms

'Accidentally' Getting Joel A Shirt That's Too Small

DBF! Joel Has Enough Of Your Teasing

DBF! Joel With A Bratty Reader

Joel Sees Your Scars (SFW)

Seducing Joel

Joel Wants You In Sub Space

Oblivion - Joel x Reader (Established Consent / DubCon CW)

Breathe Through It - Joel x Anxious!Reader (SFW)

Pre Game - DBF!Joel x Confident!Reader

Plus Size Reader Is Reassured By Joel (SFW)

“We Have To Make This Quick” - Prompt

Joel When You’re Sick (Headcanons)

Heat - Ezra x F!Reader

Taste - Ezra x F!Reader, short continuation of Heat

Ache - Ezra x AFAB Reader (Sex Pollen Fic)

Jealousy, Jealousy (Alt Version)

Bedside Manner (TLOU2 Spoilers!)

Taboo

Part One (SFW)

Part Two (SFW)

Tennessee Nights (Part One)

Tennessee Nights (Part Two)

Fall In Love In A Single Touch - modern!Oberyn (fluff & hurt/comfort)

A Breath Of Fresh Air - (Dubcon Smut)

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proxima-writes · 1 year

Text

title: at his side (in his bed)

pairing: mand’alor!din djarin x female reader x paz vizsla

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count: 2586

chapters: 1/1

summary:

They call you the whore of Mandalore.

Nothing more than the woman at side of the ruler of New Mandalore, Din Djarin, a pretty little prize that he likes to share with with his General Commander, Paz Vizsla.

Mandalorians have always been good at keeping their secrets.

AO3

author’s note: this is just filthy. if you enjoy, please consider leaving a comment as they really make my day 💕

content warnings/additional tags: explicit sexual content (18+ MDNI), explicit language, writer considers din his first name, alternate universe - Mand’alor din djarin, use of Mando’a, threesome (MFM), degradation kink, pet names (sweet AND derogatory), explicit breeding kink, spitroasting, unprotected p in v, oral sex (m&f receiving), come play, semi-public sex, dom/sub undertones, bratty reader, fingering, no plot just smut. let me know if any are missing!

Your mind has drifted as the political proceedings occurring around you continue to drone on with no end in sight. You’re not even sure why you’ve been brought here. It’s not like you’re being paid any attention.

As if conjured by your thoughts, a gloved hand grips your thigh beneath the heavy stone table. Fingers curl into the gauzy fabric of your gown. You have to bite your lip to prevent your face from giving any sort of indication that something salacious is occurring beneath the keen gazes of the gathered leaders.

“We will not agree to those terms. The mines are plentiful. We have no use for the imports offered by Dulvarra,” the deep modulated voice of the man beside you comments easily.

Din Djarin. Mand’alor. The ruler of New Mandalore.

You peek at him from the corner of your eye. He sits reclined in the high back stone chair, an elbow propped on the armrest. His visor remains trained on the Nemoidian representative while his hand creeps further up your thigh.

His fingers brush against your center, causing you to inhale sharply. This is one of the Mand’alor’s favorite games. He enjoys watching you squirm, trying to keep your thoughts straight and your whimpers caged as he works you beneath a table or in a crowded room. His helmet picks up your quiet sounds, amplifies them for his ears alone, and he revels in the opportunity to make you fall apart at the seams.

He lifts your leg, placing it across his knee, the cold bite of beskar against your skin forcing you to stifle a gasp. The gowns he has you wear are sheer, the bodice adorned with the crystals mined from the planet that was once thought uninhabitable in its destruction. They gleam around your neck and waist, pulling the layers of delicate fabric together to cover your body only just enough to not be obscene.

His hand explores beneath the fabric that covers your core, a gloved finger running through your slick folds. You swallow harshly, slumping against your seat, curling your fingers into the stone armrest. He circles your clit once, twice, before dipping lower and pressing to your soaked entrance. All the while, he appears stoic and unbothered, aided by his anonymity and power.

The Nemoidian’s eyes flick to you. It’s brief, and for a moment you think it goes unnoticed.

You should have known better.

Din’s hand leaves you to grasp the hilt of the Darksaber from his utility belt. A broad body shifts into a defensive stance near the door.

Paz Vizsla. Al’verde. General Commander of New Mandalore.

You wrap your hand around Din’s vambrace. His visor turns to regard you. You try to convey with your eyes what you are not permitted to with words.

The room is silent during the exchange, but bursts with noise when the Mand’alor turns his head to Paz and gives him a curt nod.

The whore of Mandalore, the voices murmur.

You have learned to ignore them. The speculation circulates around the mysterious leader of the once forgotten planet rather than it does you, a human he rescued from a slave trade ship. A pretty prize for the new ruler.

Nothing more.

Paz approaches the table, standing at rest behind your seat. He holds a hand out to you.

With a lingering glance at the Mand’alor, you take the General’s offered hand, leather warm against your skin. He holds an elbow to you for you to grasp as he leads you from the table, the weight of a dozen curious eyes on your back.

The man at your side is silent, muscles tense for a fight that will never come here in the empty halls of the new palace of Mandalore.

“How are you this evening, General?” You ask, fingers curling against the canvas of his flight suit.

“Well enough,” he grunts. He has always been a man of few words, your Paz.

“You know, I’m not sure I need an escort just to return to my quarters,” you comment.

Paz turns his head, the dark visor of his helmet free of expression as he says, “Do not play dumb. It is unbecoming.”

“I have no idea what you mean.”

“I am not in the mood,” Paz growls. You smirk.

“A shame,” you murmur, letting go of his elbow to walk ahead of him, adding an extra sway to your hips.

He catches up to you in a few steps, his arm circling your waist as he pulls you back against his broad body, his grip on you as solid as the beskar pressing against your exposed skin.

“Do not test me, veriduur,” he says. Whore. “Do you need to be reminded of your place?”

“My place,” you hiss, “is beneath the Mand’alor. Perhaps you should be reminded of yours, t’adyc.” Second. A reminder and a threat.

Paz turns you roughly and crouches, the press of his pauldron into your stomach the only warning you receive he lifts you in the air. You struggle against him, an exercise in futility, as he carries you down the hall, the echo of his steps and the smack of your palms on his armor the only noise to be heard.

The doors to your quarters open with a whoosh of air and Paz enters, taking immediate course for the large bed in the center of the room. The breath leaves your lungs as he tosses you onto the mattress, immediately tugging you by your ankle until your legs hang off the side of the bed, his wide hips keeping them pressed apart.

“Not so mouthy on your back,” he comments as he removes his utility belt and codpiece. “I suppose that’s why the Mand’alor likes you so much.”

“He seems to like my mouth just fine,” you reply with a raised brow. “I could show you, Al’verde.”

He works his flight plants over his hips. Though the helmet shields his face, you can imagine the fury twisting the man’s features. You’ve not seen him, not with your eyes, but you are intimately familiar with the feel of his lips between your legs, the drag of his stubbled chin across your skin.

His cock slaps against his thick middle when finally freed. “I would rather teach your cunt a lesson,” he growls, fisting his thick girth.

“Not one it hasn’t learned before, I’m afraid,” you reply, a deep sigh escaping your lips. Paz removes his gloves, scarred and calloused hands immediately ripping at the fabric of your dress to expose your body to him.

“Kriffing brat,” he snaps, slipping his fingers against your wetness, probing at your aching entrance. “Does my vod always let you get your way?”

Your back arches as his fingers slip into your tight heat and you fight to keep your sounds contained, wanting to drive Paz to fury with your insubordination. His fingers drag against your walls as he withdraws and lands a harsh smack against your clit that has you crying out.

“I asked you a question, atin dala.” Stubborn woman. The lilt of his voice is pleased now that he’s broken a sound from you.

“Of course he does,” you tell him, voice breathy. “His little prize. He’d do anything to keep me happy.”

He slides his cock through the obscene wetness coating you, his modulated groan like music to your ears. The fat tip of him pressing to your entrance, forcing your body to accommodate his size with a harsh thrust into your heat.

“Paz!” You shout, back arching from the bed as your fingers seek for desperate purchase against the smooth metal of the armor over his shoulders. He’s kind enough to hold still and let you adjust.

“That’s it, sweet little whore. You scream my name,” he growls as he withdraws slowly, thrusting back inside just as slow. “Who’s fucking your pretty little cunt?”

“Y-you, P-Paz,” you stutter. Your breasts bounce with the power of his hips, the fabric that once covered your nipples loosening and falling free in his ferocity.

“Does the Mand’alor fuck you like this? Hmm?” He asks. He uses a hand to grip the back of one thigh, pressing your legs so wide it almost hurts. “Tell me, does he fuck you better than me?”

To compare the two men would be unfair, the comparison of a sun versus a dark moon. Paz is harsh, hateful words laced with lust spilling from his lips when he’s buried to the hilt inside of you.

Din, despite his hard edges, is soft with you. Gentle touches and sweet words murmured against your skin.

Where Paz can break you apart, Din can put you back together. You crave both in equal measure.

“It is not a competition, vod,” a familiar deep voice says. You turn your head, the familiar figure of the Mand’alor emerging from the shadows. How long has he been there?

“Says you,” Paz grunts. “Words of a loser, isn’t that right?”

Din only chuckles.

You whimper when you hear the clink of armor being removed. Paz gives a particularly hard thrust that has you crying out and you hear the large man chuckle.

Din smooths a thumb across your lips. “Open for me, cyar’ika.” Sweetheart. The endearment makes your heart pound and brain go fuzzy as you obey. “So good for me. For us.”

“Speak for yourself, vod. She’s been nothing but a brat,” Paz says. “Guess she just needed something to keep that mouth occupied.”

The tip of Din’s cock slides against your tongue, the salty taste of him exploding across your taste buds. You moan as he slips deeper.

“Go dark,” Din commands roughly. Paz groans.

“No,” he replies, hips picking up speed, chasing his release.

“It was a command, Al’verde,” Din snaps.

Paz grumbles, his hips going still as you whine around Din’s cock. “You may blame your riduur for having to wait for your release.”

Riduur. Your husband.

It was known by very few that the whore at the Mand’alor’s side was actually his wife. Din keeps the knowledge close to his chest, knowing what an adversary may do with the information and never wanting harm to befall you on his behalf.

“Gone dark,” Paz confirms. He slides his cock nearly free from your body before slamming back inside with such force it shifts you up the bed.

“Di’kut.” Idiot. Din withdraws his cock from your mouth before removing his helmet. His eyes remain fixed on you as he stands from the bed to remove the remaining pieces of his armor.

“Make her cum,” Din says as he returns to your side, gripping a breast in one hand as he leans forward to wrap his lips around one tight nipple, flicking the sensitive nub with his tongue.

“That another command, Mand’alor?” Paz grunts. He maneuvers your body better to his liking, pressing your thighs together and draping your legs against his shoulder.

“Yes,” Din replies. His hand slides down your stomach to swirl his fingers around your clit. You shout, throwing your head back against the mattress in a drawn out moan of both men’s names.

“That’s it, cyare,” Din says. “Be good and let go. Paz won’t fill you up otherwise.”

That thread of control you still had snaps and your release washes through you, your muscles going taut as you clench around Paz. The man growls, a feral sound that makes you pulse and flutter around his length as his own warm release floods your body.

“Very good, mesh’la, get every drop from him,” Din murmurs. You whimper as he stretches to plant a kiss to your lips. His strong nose brushes yours tenderly when he pulls back.

Paz withdraws. You feel the warmth of his body leave yours, the slow trickle of his cum from your entrance making you blush. Din’s fingers slide through the mess, gathering it up and pushing it back in as you gasp.

“Return to your post, Al’verde. Our guests have left,” Din says to Paz, eyes never leaving yours. His fingers continue to work your over sensitive cunt as you whimper and writhe against him.

Paz rights himself in his armor before turning to leave. You hear the telltale clang of metal hitting a wall, followed by a litany of curses from the large man. Helm still dark, he’s collided with a wall.

“Kriffing wall,” he says, giving the offending architecture a curse before locating the door and exiting.

Din moves himself between your legs, the warmth of his hands trailing up your thighs leaving goosebumps across your skin. He grins down at you, boyish in the vulnerability he displays for you.

“You never did answer Paz,” he says casually, even as he settles on his stomach and trails his lips across your inner thigh. “Does he fuck you better than me?”

“No, my love,” you whine as his tongue swirls around your clit. He chuckles darkly.

“That’s what I thought.”

He eats your pussy like a starving man, more enthusiasm than finesse in his eagerness to please you. Because while he may be Mand’alor by battle and blood, you are the one he bows to in this life and the next.

Your hips move against his mouth, your fingers tangling in his thick dark hair. He works his tongue against you until you’re a whining mess, begging for his cock as he just shushes you for your impatience.

Finally, he sits up. His chin is glossy with your juices and his eyes are glassy with lust as he grips your hips and turns you on your belly, yanking your ass in the air.

He doesn’t waste time sliding inside of you, the length of him stretching you in a different way than Paz’s own thick cock did not. You gasp, fingers tightening in the sheets as he pounds against your backside.

“My riduur,” he says reverently. “Ner kar’ta.”

My heart.

“Din,” you moan. “Gedet’ye.” Please.

He groans, fingers curling into your hips in a manner sure to leave the shadows of bruises by morning. His thrusts grow more powerful, hitting a spot inside you that has another orgasm building so quickly your head goes fuzzy with the rush.

“I’m going to fill you to the brim,” he grunts. “Leave no room for failure in making you round with our child. Our future.”

Your cry is muffled against the sheets as you pulse around him with your release, so powerful that you collapse to the bed, only his broad hands on your hips keeping up for his use.

He presses deep inside you, coming with a shout of your name in the dark of the room. His cock pulses inside you, another wave of warm release filling you as you whimper his name.

Din removes himself briefly in order to help you lay on your side before settling in behind you, slipping his softening cock back inside your pussy.

“Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum,” Din says as he presses his lips to your shoulder.

“I love you,” you repeat to him.

You’re both quiet for a moment. You trace patterns against the tan skin of the arm that he has around your middle.

“Din?” You ask.

“Yes, cyare?”

“What if the baby is Paz’s?” You ask. It’s a valid concern. Din likes sharing and you like to be shared.

“My only concern is how insufferable my vod will be,” he says.

You giggle, the tension easing from your shoulders.

“Rest now, riduur. There is more to be done tomorrow.”

Din Djarin tag list: @huffle-punk @pedr0swh0r3 @yellingloudly @dragon-of-winterfell @mydailyhyperfixations @fake-bleach @justsomeoneovertherainbow @loquaciousferret @milly-louise @kirsteng42 @eternallyvenus @midnightswithdearkatytspb @leeeesahhh @hopelessromantic727 @endlessthxxghts @str84pedro @brilliantopposite187 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @garbo-lesbo @tloubarbie @afterglowsb-tch13 @uncassettodiricordi @adriennemichelle98 @mxtokko @gingersince97 @switchbladedreamz @tonysterco @rvjaa @ladymunson @sexpoisoned @trisaratops-mcgee @dreamingofdaddydin @bearsbeetsbeskar @dindjarinslegs

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#din djarin #din djarin x you #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin x reader x paz vizsla #paz vizsla #paz vizla x reader #mand’alor din djarin #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfic #din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfiction #mando fanfiction #mando x reader #no use of y/n #ao3 author #din djarin smut #the mandalorian smut #Paz vizsla smut

516 notes · View notes

crimsonvictory · 1 year

Text

Release

MINORS DNI

word count: 3.6k

tags: the mandalorian, the mandalorian smut, the mandalorian x reader, din djarin x reader

warnings: overstimulation, sub!din, dom!reader, touch-starved!din, p-in-v sex, multiple orgasms, virgin!din

notes: i love touch-starved!din. he just needs some release. 😩

I haven’t written anything in SO long please forgive me.

Updated it a little bit because I wasn’t happy with the first results.

prompt(s):

"Tell me what you like.”

“Don't stop, don't you dare stop.”

————————————————————

Since boarding the Crest a little over a year ago, the increasing amount of frustration that was filling the air was concerning you. The tension was so crisp, you could cut it with a knife.

Being within close proximity with someone else gave you plenty of practice on reading unspoken body language. The Mandalorian thought he could hide how he was feeling from you, but you could pick up on his little tells. The way his modulator would pick up his change of breath, it could mean many things, agitation, a slight laugh at your jokes, or sometimes a sign that he was tired and needed a break. His shoulders held so much emotion too. He carried the galaxy on his shoulders and almost never seemed to relax, unless he was asleep.

You mourned the way he never allowed himself to rest. He slept only a couple hours at a time, always on alert, never fully comfortable.

A couple of weeks ago, you noticed that he was getting agitated over every little thing that happened within the ship. The hot water fluctuating (not your fault), the GPS being off by a few parsecs (most definitely not your fault) you (possibly your fault?).

It seemed lately that nearly every day he was almost always taking his anger out on you. Whether it be a snide comment on the work you were doing on the ship or stony silence. But either way, you were getting tired of it. This last dispute really crawling under your skin.

It had all started because you had ordered the wrong part for the GPS system (okay so it was your fault), causing it to overshoot by a few parsecs. It was an honest mistake, and you owned up to it right away. But he did not take your apology well.

It took you almost a better part of the day to explain it to him. You made your way up to the cockpit, hands sweaty on the metal rungs. You danced your way around the room, not able to sit still, the guilt just eating at you.

You went over and over in your head how you were going to tell him, but he beat you to the point.

“What did you do wrong?” he asks, not turning around to face you.

How did he know? Was he as good at reading body language as you?

You cleared you throat, beginning to explain what had happened. Your voice shook as you told him.

“You know better. You better pray to the Maker that we can make it to a shop that has a competent mechanic.” he seethed whipping around to look at you.

You glared at him, face heating up from embarrassment.

“It was an honest mistake, Mando.” you explained.

“You think you know everything but you don’t. You’re adequate at best. How hard is it to order a GPS component?!” he continued.

Your mouth opened and closed in shock, tears brimming your eyes. You were angry.

“I said it was a mistake! Why don’t you lay off of me? I’ll fix it when we get to the next planet, okay? I’m sorry.”

He stood up, walking over and getting down in your face. “I don’t need your help.” he bit out, huffing as he turned and stomped back over to the pilot’s chair.

He spun around quickly, huffing loudly and putting in the next coordinates. You stood there in shock, shaking from anger. Taking a deep breath, you composed your thoughts, trying your best not to be emotional about the situation.

He was still seething. You could feel the anger radiating off of him. The tension in the room so thick you could barely breathe. You took shallow breaths through your nose and out of your mouth, willing yourself to calm down.

“I don’t appreciate being talked to like that,” you stated, leaning against the co-pilots seat and crossing your arms.

He stayed facing away from you, stony and silent.

“Mando,” you pressed. “You can’t talk to me like that. I am human and I’m going to make mistakes. But at least I own up to them and offer to fix them-“

“You shouldn’t be making mistakes-“ he spits.

“If you don’t want mistakes then hire a kriffing droid,” you spit back, fire under your tongue.

He whirls around at that, chest heaving.

“I don’t know what your fucking problem is, but you don’t need to take it out on me,” you tell him, glaring at his unwavering visor.

He sighs heavily, and you can already feel him putting up a wall again.

You roll your eyes. “You always do this! You always put up a wall when I’m trying to talk to you. I’m trying to help, Mando. That’s what I’m here for. I’ve been here for nearly a year and I know nothing about you.”

“It’s best it stays that way,” he grunts out. “Like I said, I don’t need your help. I’m fine on my own.”

You stepped forward, closing the distance a bit. He leans back in his chair, watching you warily as you come closer.

“But what if I want to help?” you offer softly, completely flipping the situation.

You’re surprised at your words, not knowing where they came from. He freezes at your words, unable to speak. His shoulders tense, a fist forming by his side. You walk closer to him, slowly inching the space closed. His visor follows your movements, watching you closely.

“You need to relax,” you whisper, warily placing a hand on his pauldron.

You hear his breath catch and small smile tugs at your lips.

“Let me help, Mando.”

You watch him, he’s completely still, almost not even breathing, not used to another’s’ touch. After a terse moment, he slowly nods.

“Okay,” he whispers, modulator catching the hesitation in his voice.

You smile at his words, sliding your hand up to rest at his cowl. You’re slow with your moments, not wanting to spook him. You gently stroke the exposed skin at his nape, feeling goosebumps erupt at your touch.

His breath expels shakily through the modulator.

“Breathe,” you remind him. “If it‘s too much, let me know, okay?”

Mando nods again, relaxing a bit after a few deep breaths. You slowly slide your hands down his chest, taking mind of his armor. You gently caress his arms, working from his wrists up to his biceps and back down again, watching his body language for any signs of discomfort.

“This okay?” you question. He nods and clears his throat.

You can tell he wants to say something, but it’s catching in his throat. He eventually tells you after a silent moment.

“You can, uh, take the armor off if you want,” he murmurs.

The request takes you by surprise.

“Are you sure?” you ask, appalled that he would suggest even a thing.

He nods, confirming your questioning.

You go slowly, starting at his shoulder pauldrons and working your way down. His hands guide yours, helping you on the places that you struggle.

It’s the most careful he’s been with you. Your hands tremble with excitement and you feel your heart begin to race. Your cheeks warm, feeling so vulnerable in this small space.

You continue to unfasten the buckles, setting his armor down gently on the floor beside you. Working your way down to his breast plate, you glide your fingers under the beskar, lifting it up over his head. His vambrances come next, and finally the thigh and shin guards.

Your breath catches at the mere size of him. He was big without the armor. Just pure muscle, but still soft, especially the way he’s relaxing under your touch. He’s left in his thermals, and your imagination begins running wild. You’ve always imagined what he looked like.

You always thought of him having dark hair, dark eyes, and a sharp, aquiline nose. You’ve never taken a peak, but sometimes you dream of him. You would never confess that. Not to anyone. You turn your focus back to the man in front of you. He seems to shy away from your eyes, turning his head away from you.

You guess that he’s blushing under his helmet. If only you could see him. You just know he’s beautiful. You make a soft noise, appreciating the opportunity unfolding before you. You wrap your fingers around his bicep, squeezing gently.

“Tell me what you like,” you coo.

His visor snaps back to you and he lets out a choked noise. You’ve taken him by surprise.

“I-I-,” he stutters as you trail your fingers down his arm, removing his gloves and placing them down next to his armor.

You finally get a glance at his skin. He’s sun-kissed, nearly golden under all of that armor. You wonder if he ever misses the feeling of sun on his skin. You lace your fingers together, gently squeezing his against your own.

He hums his approval, it crackles through the vocoder.

“Mando.” you say, catching his attention. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“I- uh,” he clears his throat again. “I’ve never really-“, he mumbles, looking away again.

Your mind reels at his confession. The Mandalorian, a virgin? It couldn’t be.

“Never?” you question softly, no judgement in your voice.

He answers with another shake of his head.

“This is the Way.”

You hum, considering your options. You don’t want to overwhelm him, but you want to make him feel good. Sliding your hand down to his thigh and squeezing gently.

“Would you let me take care of you?” you ask again. He looks up at you from the pilots seat, in a daze, and takes. a moment before nodding again.

“Use your words, Mando.”

“Y-Yes,” he finally gets out.

You give his thigh another squeeze before straddling his lap and wrapping your arms around his neck. You can feel how hard he’s becoming underneath you, and it makes your stomach flutter.

Reaching up and placing your hand on the exposed part of his neck, you tilt it to the side, giving you access to the skin closest to you. His breathing quickens, nervousness- and you stroke the side of his neck gently before leaning down and placing a kiss to the underside of his jaw. There’s a hint of scruff and you slip your fingers up near his jaw to memorize his face. You’re careful not to move his helmet too much, keeping the Creed in mind. He hums his appreciation at your courtesy.

Hints of mahogany and black vanilla filled your space and you dart your tongue out, tasting his skin. He keens, tilting his head back against the headrest, giving you as much space as he could. His cock twitches against you, and you hum, feeling his arousal grow.

You mouth along his neck, dipping down a few times to kiss his collarbones. Goosebumps follow your kisses, and you can feel the intimacy buzzing under his skin. His energy is electrifying.

Mando shifts his weight underneath you, hips bumping up against your own and it catches you by surprise. You grab onto his arm, steadying yourself.

“Sorry-“ he apologizes as quickly as possible.

“No need to apologize,” you murmur against his skin, dropping your weight down and grinding once, twice, against him.

A moan crackles through his helmet.

Oh.

You wish you could hear him unfiltered. His voice would sound like molten honey. You watch his chest rise and fall, a blush peaking just above his collar.

“Doing okay?” you whisper, checking to make sure your boundaries aren’t overstepped.

He nods, trying to meet the downward grind of your hips. His hand wraps around your waist, holding you in place. You gladly let him use you.

You feel yourself getting aroused, a warm feeling building in your stomach. The way his length is rubbing against your clit feels otherworldly. You bite your lip to keep quiet. He strokes your hip with his thumb, visor watching you. A warmth spreads over your cheeks, the roles reversed.

You take control again, slowing your movements and wrapping your fingers around his neck, pulling him close as you grind against his lap. You watch as he slowly starts to come apart, the pleasure becoming too much. Your kids grow heavy and you watch his chest rise and fall, little gasps falling from his mouth. He sounds fucking angelic.

You wish you could listen to them on repeat. He’s trying his best to keep his hands at his sides, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. He’s fighting to relax but slowly giving in when the pleasure builds up and up and up.

“You can touch me, y’know,” you pant, watching his visor. “You’re not going to hurt me. It’s not a bad thing to give in to your pleasure,” you remind.

He’s hesitant, you can practically see the battle in his mind. He slips his hand around your hip, stroking circles into your skin. You hum, praising him.

You begin to slow down your movements, taking the time to gather the strength to climb off of him and position yourself in between his legs. He spreads them wide, placing one foot up on the edge of the seat before tilting his helmet down and looking at you.

Maker- the angle of him above you, chest flushed with arousal- makes you squirm. His chest is rising and falling rapidly, anxious of your next move. His arm is resting on his knee, fingers splayed, relaxed. He looks like a fucking god. You imagine his lids heavy, mouth parted open as he breathes. You nearly come apart at the sight.

“Like the view?” he jokes, and you nod, unable to congregate a sentence. His voice has dropped an octave. You could fucking die happy right here.

You get to work, unbuckling his belt, then having him shimmy out of his pants, leaving him in his boxers.

The outline of his cock is straining against the material. You almost drool, looking up at him through your lashes, you ask, “May I?”

He nods, motioning with his hand to go ahead. You lean forward, placing both hands on his upper thighs and lean down to mouth at his length.

Oh.

He’s fucking huge.

You place soft kisses against the fabric before licking a stripe up to the tip. He whines, hips bucking upwards.

“Please-“ he whines. “Don’t tease.”

His hand grips the side of the pilots chair, fingers wrapping around it tightly, restraining himself.

You bring one hand closer, slipping your hand inside and wrapping your fingers around his length. He’s soft, like velvet - and he twitches in your hand. You bring out his cock through his boxers, adoring the sight of him.

“Maker-“ you whisper in shock. You give him a test stroke, curling your fingers over the tip before sliding them back down to the base. “You’re fucking huge.”

A gasp leaves his lips and he tenses up at your touch. You repeat the pattern, watching his resolve come undone under your finger tips.

He slumps back in the pilots chair, hips bucking upwards to meet your strokes. He’s covered your fingers in precome, easing the way your strokes go up and down.

You tighten your grip on his cock, slowing your strokes down and leaning over to place your lips around his tip.

“Oh, fuck-“ he curses, hips stuttering.

You hum, slowly taking him into your mouth while stroking what you can’t fit at the moment. You suck, swirling your tongue around his tip and bobbing your head up and down his length. You nearly gag due to his size. You cannot believe the situation right now. Maker, you are in heaven.

A heavy hand threads its fingers through your hair, tugging as you absolutely devour him. You can’t get enough. He tastes so fucking good. You lean into his touch, encouraging him to continue.

Your eyes roll in your head as you take him deeper. The sheer size of him makes you so fucking wet. A moan slips from your mouth and you look up at him from your eyelashes.

The sight above you was painted by the Maker himself. You wished so badly again that you could see his face. You imagine his brows scrunched in pleasure, mouth pouting open in the prettiest of ways. You know his lips were angry and pink from his teeth biting into them. He was trying so hard to be quiet and was failing miserably.

You wanted him to let go, relax and enjoy this feeling. Because you didn’t know how long it would be until he needed this again. He wasn’t a man to ask for help. But when he did, you were more than happy to deliver.

The quiet gasps filtering their way through the modulator was music to your ears. He sounded so fucking desperate.

You stroke him a couple more times, coming off of his length with a pop. He groans, mourning the loss of your mouth. You make your way up to his lap again, pulling your underwear to the side and straddling his waist again.

You tilt his chin up, making him make eye contact with you.

“Mando, do you want me to stop?”

He grabs onto your arm, squeezing tightly.

“Don't stop, don't you dare stop.”

You moan at his words, an ultimate confession of wanted pleasure. You both were shaking with anticipation, getting used to each other's bodies. Lining yourself up, you take his hand and guide it down to your pussy.

“Do you feel that? You did that, Mando,” you coo, feeling his thick fingers glide through your folds.

He groans, bringing his fingers up and underneath his helmet, like a man dying of thirst.

“Fuck, you taste fucking good.” he moans, returning his fingers to your folds for another taste.

You keen at his praise, holding on to his shoulder as he dips his fingers back again and again. He’s hooked on your taste and cannot get enough.

Mando wraps his fingers around your hips, guiding you over to his cock. His other hand cuffs around your neck as he pulls you close, voicing another confession.

“Please, fucking wreck me.”

He trembling at this point and you cannot deny him any longer. You guide the tip of his length to your entrance and slowly guide yourself down. It takes a while, as you’re not used to his length. By the time you bottom out, you’re both shaking with exertion.

“Holy fuck-“ you choke out, appalled by the sheer size of him.

“If you don’t fucking move right now-“ he gasps, trembling with pleasure.

You obey, slowly move back up before guiding yourself back down. You feel so full, not knowing if you can take all of him. It’s overwhelming, but in such a good way. You clench around his length, grabbing his attention.

“O-Oh my god-“ he gasps, squeezing your hip. “Again,” he praises.

You oblige, loving the pleasure it gives you both. A thin sheen of sweat forms on your skin and your thighs start to tremble. It’s fucking worth it.

You know he’s not going to last long, you can tell from his breathing. You’re not either, by doing all of the work. But you’re so blissed out on pleasure you don’t even care. He fills you up in just the right way, the tip catching at the deepest part of your cervix and creating a delicious burn in your stomach.

He grabs onto your shoulder, leaving one hand on your hip as he takes control for a moment, speeding his thrusts up to meet yours. The sound of your bodies meeting fills the cockpit, tension resolved and disappearing.

All that lingers now is the smell of sex and arousal. Warmth from both of your bodies filling the air. It’s comfortable and you don’t want to leave.

“Fuck- Mando, you’re doing such a good job,” you gasp out between thrusts. “Look how well I’m taking you.”

He moans at your praise, hips stuttering. His visor tilts down, watching where your bodies separate and then meet again. His fingers brush over your clit and you gasp.

“If you keep talking like that I’m not going to last-“ he warns.

“Good,” you laugh, high off of pleasure. “I want you to let go, come for me.”

“Oh Maker,” he chokes out, thrusting, once, twice, thrice before seizing up, pleasure overcoming his body.

You watch as his body tenses and then slump as the pleasure slowly makes its way through his body. He’s breathing heavily, gently rubbing circles on your hip. He laughs, a musical thing. You wish you could have this moment on repeat.

Your pleasure is still building, burning it your stomach. He glides his hands down to your clit, thumb brushing along your little bundle of nerves. He’s unexperienced, but a quick learner. You show him how to build your pleasure and he repeats your motions, making it burn in your belly.

You slump forward on him, grabbing his bicep for support. His fingers are slow and calulating, but adding the perfect amount of pressure that has you seeing stars.

He does something unexpected, wrapping his fingers around your throat and giving a soft squeeze. You clench around him, body going taught as you reach your orgasm. He coaxes your body through it, guiding you up, up up, and carrying you gently back down.

The pleasure is so intense you start to cry. It’s been so long since you’ve had any intimacy and you cannot handle it. He strokes circles onto your side as you calm down.

“Thank you,” you both say at the same time, causing a chuckle from you both.

“Don’t wait so long to ask me for help next time,” you joke, leaning against his chest and giving him a hug.

“I won’t,” he says.

You believe him.

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

738 notes · View notes

pascalpvnk · 3 months

Text

december & january fic recs list

hello! welcome to the second installment of my end of the month(ish) fic recs posts :) listed in no particular order, just as each fic was read! [once again, if your fic has found a cozy home on my tbr blog, don't fret! i will work through each one slowly but surely xx (divider by @saradika-graphics)

important post regarding TLOU + Neil Druckmann’s Zionism!!

heed all warnings according to each fic. if there's something on here that isn't your cup of tea and you don't want to read it, then scroll past. thank you!

fic rec masterlist // main masterlist

a * denotes smut (18+ MDNI!!)

drabbles

untitled [joel cares for you when you're ill] - @undercoverpena (soft!joel miller x reader) snooze - @tightjeansjavi (joel miller x f!reader) untitled [first date arm appreciation] - @softlyspector (joel miller x f!reader)

oneshots

Joel Miller

sweet thing* - @honeyedmiller (jackson!joel x sunshine!f!reader) study days with joel* - @bearsbeetsbeskar (joel miller x f!reader) joel nye, the science guy* - @endlessthxxghts (joel miller x afab!reader) love shack - @pascalispretty (joel miller x gn!reader) do you like it here?* - @/endlessthxxghts (joel miller x afab!reader) a burning desire - @/honeyedmiller (firefighter!joel miller x f!reader) hiraeth* - @/honeyedmiller (dbf!joel miller x f!reader) ripe* - @hier--soir (preoutbreak!joel miller x f!reader) teacher's pet* - @javiscigarette (joel miller x virgin!f!reader) the way he was - @cavillscurls (joel miller x reader) a lesson in condom sense* - @joeloverture (dbf!joel miller x f!reader) softness - @joelsgreys (post outbreak!joel miller x f!reader) texas hold 'em* - @sweetercalypso (joel miller x f!reader) yellow bird* [from whiskey sour universe] - @kiwisbell (joel miller x f!reader) sick days with joel miller - @/bearsbeetsbeskar (joel miller x f!reader) caught the bug - @mrsmando (joel miller x f!reader) warm me up* - @/tightjeansjavi (game!joel miller x f!reader) your heart, a sonnet - @kedsandtubesocks (author!joel miller x f!reader) will you show me?* - @eupheme (no-outbreak!joel x f!reader, joel x reader x tess) untitled request [body insecurity comfort] - @forever-rogue (joel miller x f!reader) like nothing matters* - @sp00kymulderr (joel miller x afab!reader) yours and mine, mine and yours - @morallyinept (no-outbreak!joel miller x pregnant!afab!reader) untitled* [body worship] - @/softlyspector (joel miller x afab!reader)

Frankie Morales

sweet treat [part I // part II] - @/mrsmando (sweet!frankie morales x f!plus-size!reader) worship* - @/tightjeansjavi (frankie morales x f!reader) birthday girl* - @ilovepedro (frankie morales x plus-size!latina!f!reader) pickup truck* - @luxurychristmaspudding (frankie morales x f!reader) end up here* - @inthe-dark-tonight (frankie morales x f!reader) hungry* - @/endlessthxxghts (frankie morales x f!reader) stalemate* - @joelscurls (frankie morales x f!reader)

Javier Peña

use me* - @palioom (javier peña x f!reader) knead - @/tightjeansjavi (javier peña x f!reader) nights are so starry, blood moonlit* - @janaispunk (javier peña x f!reader)

Misc.

blue jean baby* - @fettuccin-e (agent whiskey x afab!fem!reader) peeta mellark: your loser boyfriend* - @zombatss (peeta mellark x afab!reader) more than friends* - @gracieheartspedro (best friend!ellie williams x f!reader) let me be needed* - @/luxurychristmaspudding (din djarin x f!sex worker!reader)

series

i know it when i see it* [part six*] - @bageldaddy (pornstar!joel miller x fem!reader) catfish* - @/tightjeansjavi (fisherman!frankie morales x bartender!reader) cherry thrill* [lights*] - @hellishjoel (tattoo artist!daddy dom!joel miller x virgin!sub!f!reader) the checklist* [hot & cold* // take my breath away* // what's in the bag*] - @thetriumphantpanda (joel miller x f!reader) your needs, my needs - @/gracieheartspedro (cowboy!joel miller x f!reader)

so sorry this is late :') i was having so many formatting issues lmao. thank you all for sharing your wonderful fics xx

#pascalpvnk fic recs #my talented moots <3 #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters

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aliorsboxostuff · 1 year

Note

So how about sub din who is just started to date Dom reader and hasn't taken his helmet off yet. So things are getting steamy with them both and is din sitting on readers lap grinding on him and reader asks if he wants to take a step further and din nods yes. And reader makes sure that din is comfortable and says to leave the helmet on for din and doesn't want to rush him. And leads to din first time with reader and is riding him in the control room in the razor crest. I hope you are doing good and really glad that you are taking mandalorian requests.-🐸

A/N Oh 🐸, you with your amazing ideas, and always so descriptive! Though I gotta change the 'Started dating reader' part because the Din in my heart is a socially awkward mf that needs at LEAST 6 months of relationship development before holding hands. I also hope you are doing well! Yall gotta bear with me here this is gonna be my FIRST take on a star wars fic, let alone a Mandalorian fic, so if I do make any mistakes while writing some Mando'a words here, feel free to DM me or reply so I can fix where I wrote it wrong! As always, apologies for some mistakes, english is my 2nd language, and enjoy dear Readers! <3

Ner Din'ika

Tags: Din Djarin x m!Reader, Grogu, Luke Skywalker, he's there as Grogus's teacher tho lmao, Mando'a words (Translation at the end), Bottom!Din, soft!Din, Keldabe kiss, First Kiss, Riding, Pet names, touch-starved!Din, fluff, fluff and smut, aftercare.

Din's first time with you is—as expected—filled with yearning and want and scalding touches and a kiss?

[Takes place around the time frame of Grogus training in Book of Boba Fett, but i refuse to let The Razor Crest explode so here we are]

You stand at the mouth of The Razor Crest, watching as Din supervised Grogu’s latest training with Luke. The kid has flown a total of five little pebbles and an even more impressive number of bigger boulders, seven now counting. Din, worry and protectiveness practically oozing from his armor, stands off to the side, just near the tree lines, eyes watchful of his foundling as Luke, yet again, lets the little boy fly over his head. You’d deem it dangerous, stars, maybe irresponsible. But what do you know about Jedi training?

Instead, your eyes follow the line of Din's stature. His arms are crossed, leaning against some of the bamboos. Clearly trying to resemble a sort of relaxed stance, but you can see the tension, feel it even. Comes with being a Mandalorian’s boyfriend, you chuckle. Those broad shoulders lean back, Beskar reflecting the shining light of the growing evening, slowly he turns his head to glance at you sitting on the Crest’s mouth. You meet his visor, grinning, before he curtly turns back to where he was watching his kid. Your smile widens.

You met him through Cara Dune. She’s a good friend of yours, the one who pulled you out of your boring everyday life on Sorgan, used to fish the little morsels from your villages ponds, to hanging around her and earned her respect. Until that Beskar donned man and his little green kid came. Thought he wanted to take in Cara and you were ready to step in his way, but after they dueled, they came to a truce and started their alliance. He helped the villagers fight off the raiders that once terrorized the place, and once that's done he opted to leave, not before you hitched a ride to Nevarro with Cara.

It had to be admitted, the kid did catch your heart and held on to it, so you offered to help him and Grogu find his kind. Cycles after your initial meeting, you’ve grown close with both Din and Grogu, curious at the man’s past and equally drawn to him. Then that imperial bastard, Moff Gideon, had to up and steal the kid. So you, Cara, Bo-Katan and Hell, Boba Fett himself, joined forces to save him.

The universe truly is bountiful to its protector, because you didn't take into account that saving The Mandalorians kid would give you the honor of learning his name and, by stars, becoming his boyfriend. Remembering back to those months, you still think you're the luckiest warrior in the whole galaxy to be blessed with such an amazing and loving clan of three.

Reeling back to reality, far into the field, you see Grogu has gone tired and Luke has halted their training for the day, the little green guy already slumping into the dirt below and curling in on himself. You sigh fondly, walking down the ramp and jogging to wear Grogus doe eyes are already half lidded, and he yawns.

“Come here kiddo,” You coo as you pick up his little body, cradling him in your arms. You see Luke talking to Din, too far away for you to catch, but you could see him nodding to Lukes animated chatter. You smile, glancing back down to Grogus little head burying himself deeper into your warmth, he’s already pawing at the jacket you're wearing, which makes you giggle and pull it around his little body.

Luke walks over to where you’re standing, smiling as he sees Grogu already bundled up by you. “We should have dinner first before we sleep, right Grogu?”

Now that made his floppy ears perk. Grogu immediately turns from where you were hugging him, making grabby hands and incoherent words at the idea of food, which you smile at before handing him to Lukes waiting arms.

“We’ll join you in a bit,” You said, and Luke nodded, already turning back into the direction of his temple.

On cue, Din approaches you and slides an arm around your middle, pulling you to him at which you welcome the tug. With a steady hand on the cool Beskar chest plate, the two of you watch as Grogu flails his arms around, undoubtedly talking about something that only Luke could understand, the serenity of the fields surrounding you lulls you into a sense of peace. You turn to meet Dins visor, directed at Luke and Grogu, before it slowly turns to you, making you smile softly. Slowly, you bring your hand to caress the side of his helmet, fingers edging slightly under it, taking in the feeling of that powerful metal that has saved your boyfriend countless times. His gloved hand holds your wrist, not tugging away, just an anchor, a testament to his trust in you to know you’ll never take off his helmet, to know you’re patient to let Din take his own pace.

The hand holding his helmet pulls slightly, and Din comes with. Your eyes flutter close as you feel the cold Beskar touch your crown, sighing when a shaky hand cups your jaw, bringing you closer. Despite the gap the armor creates, you’re never tired of feeling Dins hand on your nape, heavy over your pulse, burning even through his gloves. You smile, pulling back slightly, before you press a kiss to where his cheeks would be. “Let’s eat, cyar’ika,” You whisper, and you feel him nod.

You smile when he pulls back, arm still securely on your hips while the other smoothes over your jaw. You chuckle, pulling him to the smell of dinner being prepared by Luke, tugging him by his hand.

—

After dinner is done and cleaned, Din has given Grogu his nightly bath and the kid is ready to pass out at any moment. Luke has taken him to his quarters and settled the little one on his own bed, just on the other side of his room. The bots have yet to make more sleeping quarters, still focusing on more classes and storage area, so the only available bed room would be Lukes, where Grogu is also staying.

You and Din have known this from your last visits, opting to sleep in the privacy of the Crest instead. So you and Din bid the two a good night, and trek up the clearing where the ship is docked.

Din’s arm never left your side, holding and pressing slightly, making you arch a brow at him. He only stares at you, undoubtedly false innocent eyes inside that helmet. You scoff, nudging him aside before pressing the button to close the ramp, submerging the two of you in the darkness of the Crest, shards of the twin moons the only thing leading you and Din up into the hull of the ship.

His hands now roam around your body, pushing you slightly until your back hits the wall, you return his desperate touch with the same fervor. Finding the sliver of body suit on his hip not covered by his armor, you snake insistent fingers into the fabric and squeeze, his helmet not able to hide his groan.

“Easy dearest,” You smooth your hand over the area, other hand holding the side of his neck, thumb drawing soothing circles. “Let's take these off, alright?” He nods shakily.

You lead him to the compartment next to the sleeping pod, the table there clean of clutter and made to store Dins armor. Piece by piece, starting with his shoulder pauldrons, each part eased off with care, pressing a kiss to the Mudhorn signet, you can hear Dins stuttered breath. Then down to his vambraces, littering kisses from his shoulder and leading a path down to his forearm, then hands as you carefully pry off those thick gloves. You push Din slightly so his waist hits the edge of the table, pressing another kiss to the bare skin of his hand, half lidded eyes meets his visor at which you hear him exhale a ragged breath.

Carefully unbuckling the belts around his breastplate, setting it on the table before you pull off the breastplate, the bodystocking stretches over his broad chest deliciously. As you put the armor piece aside, your hand smoothes over the fabric, pressing slightly where you know Din is sensitive the most, watching him inhale sharply before you smirk, littering kisses on your way down. As you crouch, you move to take off each leg piece, first tigh guards, pressing light kisses on the exposed fabric, then shin guards and the belts on top of it, then finally the knee-pads and his heavy boots. Gentle hands stoke up slightly, pushing the end of his pants up until you feel the tickle of leg hair, Din visibly shaking on top of you, gripping the table behind him until his scarred knuckles turn white.

You smile, languidly making your way up his body, unwrapping his cape and setting it aside. The final divide between you and your boyfriend. His last brick, and the wall crumbles down.

Shaking hands clasps at your back as you press kisses on his still covered clavicle, making the fabric damp and warm as he squirms. You hear his breath grow ragged, then you bite down, just enough to hear him groan and drop his head to your shoulder, his hands holding onto you like a lifeline.

“Sleeping pod or-”

“T-the cockpit…” He falters as you press another kiss nearing his neck. “Please,”

You hum, nodding against his neck before leading him by the hand, careful touches along his hips as you usher him up the stairs. You follow suit, not forgetting to grab the lube from the compartment on the wall.

When your feet touch the cockpits floor, Din impatiently pulls you up, hands stroking over your chest, down to your hips at which he breathes raggedly under your chin. You chuckle, moving him back until he feels the control panel. He almost jumps to sit on it, but you sit back on the captain's chair, you pull him towards you, making him stumble into your lap. His whine reverberates through his helmet's modulator adding a static edge to it. You made sure he’s comfortable before sliding your hands to his back, reaching to tug the zipper down.

The zippers opens his backside into the night's cold air, making him arch into your warm touch, pressing his clothed cock to your lap. He whines from the movement, holding on to your shoulders, almost crushing them. With each skin slowly being revealed into the night's air, you press your lips against it, reveling in each whine and ragged breath you got out of Din. With every part of the suit being peeled, Din’s tanned skin is shown, bathed under the light of the moons and stars. Scars on his body paint an infinite constellation, your eyes following each one, from the deep ones to those that have grown lighter than Dins expanse of skin.

Finally, he pulls at the tight bodysuit, discarding it somewhere on the floor, and his hands paws at your jacket, labored breath impatiently prying it off of your figure. You grin, shrugging the article off, followed by your shirt, leaving the both of you shirtless and breathless. Dins shaking hand strokes down your shoulder, to your arms, before he arches into you when your languid fingers trace his sensitive back, sending jolts rippling through his body.

“Please…” Despite his helmet still perfectly secured on his head, you could feel his warmth ghosting at your neck. It truly has been a while since you and Din shared some privacy, always jumping from planet to planet, looking for more Mandalorians to repair broken bonds and doing favors that benefit Din’s covert. Only now did you and your boyfriend get to breathe in the warm embrace of peace within this planet, so you're not surprised just how sensitive Din has gotten.

“What do you need kar’ta?” Your hand holds Dins hip, no doubt leaving marks to be cherished in the morning, letting him grind himself on your thigh, broken moans and breath singing into your ears. You pride yourself for learning bits of Mando’a if only to hear his gasps each time you use it. “Hm? What do you want?”

“I- ugh,” Din grunts as he feels one hand snakes into his trousers, stroking him steadily, his precum easing the movement. You smirk, other hand tweaking one of his perked nipples, bumping your head against his, making sure the amber in your eyes burns through his visor. The need melts into his skin.

You’ve never gone past reverent touches and helping each other get off by hand, you haven't even gotten the pleasure of seeing Din fall apart by your mouth, but from the way he grinds into your touch, broken moans filling the room, his desperation leaks into your body. “Want me to fuck you?”

“Stars- Yes.” He moans when you tighten your hand just so. You nod, easing your hand away from his cock which makes him whine, until you begin to help him out of his pants.

“Okay, alright,” Your breath stutters when Din grinds over your cock, already tenting in the confines of your pants. Between you and Din’s relationship, the both of you haven't truly moved on from scalding touches and helping each other get off by hand. This is a new territory for Din, and you have to make sure he feels safe and comfortable in your embrace.

You carefully slide him out of his trousers along with his briefs and discard it with the same pile as his top, feeling his strong thighs shake underneath your touch. Fumbling for the bottle of lube, you pour just enough on your hand and warm it up a bit, before following Din’s tailbone down to the top of his arse. He shivers, whining into your shoulder as he feels your digits ghosts over his hole, already squirming in your hold.

“Come on, please,” He begs, nails scratching at your back. You slowly insert one finger, the tip first, letting the Din situate himself to the foreign feeling. He groans, burying himself deeper between the crook of your neck, his mandibles digging slightly at your jaw. The lube easies your finger to push more, deeper, until you hear his high pitch, broken moan, then slowly push in another. At that, he jerks his head to the side, chest still flushed with yours.

When you begin scissoring, Din throws his head back, arches into your touch, which beckons you to chase him, biting at the now exposed column of his neck, making sure to leave marks no one but you know and Din could feel. Din feels delirious, deeply intoxicated from both your fingers and the feeling of your warm mouth pressing over sensitive skin and old scars, jolting each time you bite down or kiss longer to leave darker spots. He scarcely remembers moaning out broken syllables that should form your name, making your hold on his hips tighten, squeezing the scarred skin.

After deeming it enough prep, you carefully pull your fingers out, pressing kisses on the planes of your boyfriend's chest, feeling him take ragged breaths, a steady hue of red throughout his body. You shuffle to discard your pants, hissing when you feel the cold air hit your heated skin. You could feel Din growing impatient, if the way he squirms could be interpreted as that, so you tug your pants off and align yourself under Din.

“Slowly baby, slowly,” You remind him, his thigh shaking with anticipation. Hands holding under his thigh, making sure gravity doesn't take hold, you lower Din’s shivering body, inch by inch. The tight heat of his hole almost stutters your hold, making you groan, feeling the head of your cock inside him. You can feel Dins graps digs into your shoulders as he gasps.

Finally, your thighs are flushed with Dins, feeling the man shudder above you as you try to regain some sort of composure, breathing in shaking breaths. Din claws his way from your pellicals to your chest, making red rivers across your chest. You groan, pushing into his touch, which in turn shifts where you sat, enough to make your boyfriend shiver.

"M-move." He manages. "Move, please."

"Anything for you mesh'la," You say as your teeth dangerously ghosts over his pulse.

Planting your feet on the metal floor, you suppress the cold that shoots up your bones and instead focus on holding Din upright, thrusting into him with each movement. His arms shakes, moves back to grip the control panel, his scarred knuckles a hue lighter. A deep growl rumbles through you when you feel Din’s hole clenching around you, raking blunt teeth across his chest. You trail reverent kisses across a deep scar that runs from his left clavicle to just under his abdomen, Din shivers. In a more tender moment, slowed down after release with the two of you tangled together, you would've asked what those scars meant, wondering about the stories of your boyfriend's life. Maybe later, much later in the night.

When you hear a mewl, almost a hurt sound coming from the man currently flushed on top of you, your lips curls into a sharp grin, before hauling Din from gripping at the ships console to fall into your grasp, his arms immediately around your neck with a choked gasp from the sudden change. With the chair supporting both of your weight, you have the advantage to claw at Din’s hips, digging calloused fingers into his skin, using your strength to push Din up and down.

You feel yourself nearing the edge, with Din clenching around you it’s hard to keep up the pace. The side of his helmet would leave an angry mark on your shoulder, making you grunt when Din lets out a broken whimper and buries his head to the crook of your neck. “C-close, baby,”

“Me too…” He lets out a breathy moan when your hand finds his dick, pumping it hastily, pushing him to his limit.

“Stars i-” You stutter when Din clenches around you. “Fuck- Wish i can kiss you,”

Slip of a tongue. Shit.

Your movement falters, a shiver shoots up when Din pulls his head back, dark visors looking straight to you, assessing you.

"Din i-" But before you could sputter out a reason, an apology for forsaking the trust he gave you, darkness suddenly envelops your vision, rendering you blind. Dins hand covers your eyes, you could feel his calluses over your skin.

Then, as if a searing star itself break the atmosphere, you feel slightly chapped lips against yours, a tickle of stubble and- Is that a mustache?

Din grunts into your mouth, realizing you still have one hand wrapped around him. He moans, moving with your thrusts, his kiss devouring your gasps as you push at him, deepening it. His tongue traces yours and confidently moves in, effectively rendering your brain into a short-circuit. Your mind briefly wonders how such a reserved man has this much skill in kissing, he’s no virgin but surely he hasn't kissed anyone beside you. Then he bites at your lower lip before bringing you deeper again with a hand on your nape, and all hell breaks loose.

You growl into the kiss, basking in the whimper he lets out as your hand moves faster and thrust grows sloppier, but definitely still hitting that spot that makes Din scream. He pulls back, inhaling sharply when you bite lightly on his jaw, feeling the hair that decorate it. Oh you’d worship him just to see his debauched face without being blind, and the thought is enough to make you cum.

You feel yourself release inside Din’s warmth, making him shiver and let out a broken moan of your name. With your hand jerking him off, he follows suit, throwing his head back, painting his chest with strings of pearly cum. Once spent, he slumps into your embrace, helmet already in place and breathing raggedly next to your ear. You pry his hand off your eyes and press a kiss to the sliver of neck you could reach.

Blinking away the little dots from your eyes being closed and pressed by his hand, you slowly steady your breath as you rub circles on Dins pelicals and lower back, feeling him sigh and melt at your touch. You can't help to let out a chuckle, which earns you a questioning sound from your boyfriend.

“Nothing, just…” You smile, licking at your lips, trying to savor Din’s taste. “Best kiss I've ever had.”

That made him chuckle, nuzzling the cool helmet against the side of your neck. “Me too.”

Your smile widens, closing your eyes and simply letting the warmth of after-sex wafts through the cockpit. Speaking of which, you should probably clean up and sleep in the proper sleeping pod. The seat, plush as it is, won't do your back any good. So you reach for your scattered pants, looking for the fabric you always keep in your back pocket. When you finally find it, you shift Din a bit to clean up the mess that went up to both his and your chest, then carefully pull out of the man, making you groan as he shivers, wiping down what leaks out of him and the remaining lube around your length.

Standing up and making your way down takes another effort, but nothing you can't do for Din, sleepy and content Din in your arms. Pushing the button to open the sleeping pod, you set him down on the edge of it before handing him a bottle of water.

“Drink, love,” You grin, before busying yourself on the table where another water bottle is kept and downing it. You hear the hushed shh of Dins helmet as it’s being taken off, then the cap of the water bottle turning. You swallow another gulp of water, before flashes of earliers heated kiss shocks you and makes you choke on the water slightly. You cough, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand before closing the bottle and setting it back.

“You uh… Done?” You clear your throat.

“Yeah,” You nod, turning back to see Dins helmet back on and him extending his arm, returning the bottle to you. You set it on the table and push him back to lie down in the pod. It’s always been a tight fit with both you and your boyfriend sleeping in it, but you make do.

When the doors are shut and the lights turned off, another hiss of Dins helmet makes your heart thump harder, but he shifts to place it on a small compartment off to the side and lays his head on your chest, one arm around you. You hook your arm around him, the other playfully raking through his curls. You could tell just from how it coils around your fingers, Din practically purring into your touch like a Loth Cat. You grin, pressing a kiss to his forehead before shifting to get comfortably on the pillow.

“Good night, Din'ika,”

“Good night, Cyar’ika,”

Cyar'ika: Darling, beloved, sweetheart

Kar'ta: Heart

Mesh'la: beautiful

Requests are open!

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x male reader #din djarin #din djarin fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin x you #lio writes #star wars fanfiction #x m!reader #x male reader #din djarin x m!reader

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oscarseyebrow · 1 year

Text

Patience

Pairings: din djarin x female reader Rating: explicit. 18+ Word count: 3k Warnings: please read all warnings before continuing, this is straight up filth. explicit smut, unprotected p-in-v, ass play (who am i?), mention of spitting (who have i become?), dom/sub dynamics, cursing, edging, smallest mention of spanking, light reference to daddy kink. A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY, @the-scandalorian! i'm sorry this is a year late...but here you go! this is for you 💖 Masterlist | Taglist

The consistent, low-humming of the ship is the primary sound to fill the hull. An occasional beep accompanies it—every five seconds, to be exact—you know this because you have been counting. It’s a cycle, a predictable pattern that comes with knowing the ship well and something that your brain desperately clings to as a form of distraction.

You need something, anything, to keep your focus away from the delicious, pleasurable stretch of Din’s cock filling you and holding there, unmoving, twitching and pulsing against your walls. This is his well-earned reward for a challenge you lost, and Maker, he’s taking his sweet time revelling in the satisfaction of it.

At some point, you lose count of the five second cycles—after the first few minutes, it becomes almost impossible to keep up. Din knows exactly what he’s doing. He knows how difficult he’s making it for you to keep some sort of grasp on your composure.

Every now and again, you phase back into the beeps, you hold onto them tightly and proceed to count the seconds between them, only to be enticed right back each time Din moves a mere fraction of an amount and causes the softest mewl to pass between your parted lips at the satisfying–albeit temporary–relief.

With Din out on a hunt, there’s little in the way to keep you busy on the ship. Cleaning, reading on your datapad and showering, it’s all part of your routine to pass the time. You’re expecting him to be gone for a few hours, at least. Maybe even a day, depending on the job. So it’s a pleasant surprise to see that Din is back when you step out of the fresher.

He stands in front of the closed doors, his somewhat dishevelled appearance making a few things apparent: he has only recently arrived back, and his hunt–while being a challenging one–has been a success. He’s worked up, you see it in the way he holds himself: rigid and alert, adrenaline coursing through his veins. His head is still very much on the job while his body craves something more.

Something only you can offer him.

“Show me how you caught him,” you request, eyes daring the bounty hunter as his chest heaves in the fluorescent lights of the Crest’s hull. “Show me how you took control.”

The dominance oozes from him: it stifles the air, colours it with the primal, animalistic energy of capturing his prey.

“And if I catch you this time?” Din asks.

“If you catch me,” you begin, then take a moment to think. “You get whatever you want…daddy.”

A wicked, lustful smirk curves over your lips. You watch the way his fingers curl to fist one hand: the creaking of his glove breaks the tense silence that cloaks the space between you while he considers your offer.

Your challenge is one that Din accepts: it becomes a game of cat and mouse, and you do all you can to avoid being caught.

You dip and dodge his sudden lunge for you, narrowly avoiding his swooping arm that attempts to capture your body and scoop you against him. It earns you a grunt of frustration and his boots scrape against the floor of the Crest when he rounds on you to try again.

But you’re ready. You keep your knees slightly bent, preparing to sprint in the opposite direction to him while your eyes remain fixed on his visor.

The crackles of tension in the air is not too dissimilar to the way Din’s modulator rasps with his heavier breaths.

And then silence.

He’s prepared for his next strike.

It happens so suddenly: he fakes a step to the left, you dart in the opposite direction and run straight into his chest. No matter how much you try to wriggle free, it’s impossible. Din’s strong arms hold you firm against him, giving you no room for movement.

The bastard tricked you. The chase is over.

Within seconds, Din turns you towards the cot: he places your hands above your head in a silent order to keep them against the durasteel entrance.

The intensity and purpose of his movements causes a swell of desire and excitement to fizzle in your stomach at the thought of him claiming you. This is your favourite thing about Din returning to you in one of these moods: you know exactly what’s coming and you’re already squeezing your thighs together in anticipation.

Din’s gloved hands rip open the buttons at the chest of your shirt: the tiny round missiles fire in every direction to allow for the fabric to fall slack. It’s all the space he needs for one of those large hands to submerge itself beneath the material and grasp a handful of your supple breast.

That’s when you moan for him: his gloved fingers trap the sensitive peak of your nipple and pinch with just enough pressure to send an electrical jolt of pleasure through your whole body. You decide to take the opportunity to press the curve of your ass back and grind against him, enjoying the sound of his groan of pleasure.

“Behave,” Din warns you.

“What will happen if I don’t?”

The slow intake of air is audible through Din’s modulator as his helmet tilts in such a way that brings his mouth close to your ear. Then, in that low, gravelled tone, he states: “the choice is yours.”

You continue to press, “what choice?”

“I can bring you in warm…or I can bring you in cold.”

Maker. Have mercy.

“The most important skill while hunting…is patience,” Din’s unmodulated voice rasps from behind you.

The tones wash over you like liquid velvet and make your muscles flutter around where he’s sheathed deep inside the wet heat of your cunt.

“Sometimes it can take hours of waiting…do you have hours, Cyar'ika?”

“Yes,” the answer tumbles from your lips instantly, only to be muffled by the scratchy fabric of the blanket on the bed.

It feels as though you have already been here for hours: chest down and legs spread where you stand outside of the cot. You know that when you do finally straighten up, the imprint of the blanket’s fibres will be noticeable on your cheek, but it will be worth every hatched line.

There’s a knowing smirk evident in Din’s voice and his next words slide silkily from his mouth: “yes, what?”

Your pussy instinctively quivers again at his tone, informing him of your increasing need.

“Yes, daddy.”

You get a sound of approval, rumbled from deep within his chest. He likes it. He enjoys the way your voice carries that word; it’s music to his ears.

The softest moan escapes from between your lips when Din draws his hips back to admire the way his cock glistens with you. Not even the steady rattle of the ship or his heavier breaths are enough to disguise the obscene sound of his cock gliding through your wetness as his thrusts become harder.

“Feels so good,” you praise him. “Don’t stop–oh, right there!”

There’s no controlling the curses and lust-filled balling that spills from your mouth when Din’s cock finally rubs up against your favourite spot. It triggers an automatic response in your hips as they tilt into his thrusts, chasing the pleasurable sensation.

The rhythmic beeps of the ship are drowned out by the soundscape that builds at the entrance of the cot: Din’s lower grunts, your pitched moans of pleasure while the telling signs of your orgasm begin to take hold. It creeps in with a smouldering heat at the base of your spine and snakes between each vertebrate–it sears along each nerve, absorbs itself into your bloodstream and pulseates throughout your whole body.

It’s close.

It’s so fucking close.

Your eyes tighten in anticipation, your voice unable to produce any sort of sound while everything in your body pulls tight.

And then he stops.

Each time Din edges you to the very brink of orgasm, he hastily drags you back from it, leaving you to collapse in desperation against the mattress of the cot again and again. Your legs tremble, hopelessly trying to hold yourself steady.

“Din,” you’re almost on the verge of begging, unable to take the torturous pleasure any longer. You’ve lost count of the amount of times he has done this to you.

“Patience, Cyar'ika.”

No, you’re done being patient.

Your fingers hold the blanket with a vice-like grip as you pull yourself forward over Din’s cock and then slide yourself back again, momentarily taking control, interested to see his reaction.

An unexpected moan sounds from behind you, as though he hadn’t been anticipating this move. Somehow, you expect him to have the situation well read: he’s usually prepared for everything, so to catch him off-guard sparks an uncontrollable desire deep within you. It urges you on, thrilled by the fact that even now, after all this time, you can still surprise him.

“Mmm—fuck,” Din groans as one of his hands clutches at your waist. It isn’t to prevent your movements, he’s simply holding you, admiring the show as you fuck yourself on his cock.

“That’s it, Cyar'ika. Show me what you need,” Din’s encouragement spurs you on more: the pliable flesh of your ass slaps against his cold armor each time you thrust back onto him. “You’re doing so well.”

Maker, his praise sends you wild.

“I love your cock,” you pant. “Love how big it feels…”

You know exactly what you’re doing, you’re pushing him, trying every trick you know in the ‘Din handbook’ in an attempt to get him to snap and fuck you as if his life depends on it.

Din knows this, too.

His next words put an end to your building pleasure: “That’s enough.”

No. It isn’t enough. It’s not even close to being enough.

Your frustrated whine becomes muffled by the blankets when you press your face against them again and squeeze your eyes closed. You don’t know how much more of this you can take. Din knows your limits, he’ll never push you further than what you’re comfortable with so you know that he’ll give in soon enough. But this is a fine line you’re toeing between pleasure and frustration, with your need for release descending into urgent desperation.

Din’s hands move to your lower back and stroke over your warm skin. They follow the curve of your spine and then up a little higher before his blunt nails drag downward. The sensation makes you shiver beneath him, aching for his fingers to reach around and pay some attention to your abandoned clit.

“Please…” You beg.

All you’re rewarded with is a slow roll of his hips: each thick inch of his length slides easily through your dripping cunt before he sinks deep again and holds there.

You open your mouth to protest, set on calling him a few choice words for how far he’s pushing you tonight but all that comes out is a quiet “oh,” when the pad of his thumb teases at the tight ring of muscle of your ass.

He applies no pressure, he simply grazes over it, as though he’s awaiting your reaction to the silent request. There isn’t a single part of your body that Din hasn’t explored during your relationship, but this still holds a feeling of vulnerability, a sensation of unfamiliar territory compared to all other areas he enjoys.

You turn your head to glance back over your shoulder and notice that he’s already watching you: head tilted and a small smirk on his lips. Din’s body towers in the entrance of the cot, blocking out most of the light that pours in from the hull of the ship. From this angle, with him looming above you, he looks deliciously intimidating.

“Can I?” He questions quietly, although you’re sure he already knows the answer.

The calloused pad of his thumb continues to tease, causing heavier, uneven breaths to escape you: your lungs are desperate to take in air while your body tries to force it back out with the excitement and pleasure that builds.

There’s no keeping the grin from your lips when you nod, giving him your consent. You trust him completely: he would never do anything without your approval, even now, after the years you have spent together. Nothing is ever taken for granted–Din is respectful, before all else. Which is somewhat of a contrasting thought as he slaps one of his palms down against the cheek of your ass and grins to himself when you gasp.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch your answer.”

Fuck. Fuck. Din’s voice oozes a dominance reserved only for you, a tone that he is able to use with great effect when you both feel safe and able to explore together.

“Y–yes,” you stutter, unable to hold your composure as the excitement builds rapidly in your stomach.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, daddy.”

Din’s eyes hold yours for a brief moment while that smirk lingers on his lips. He knows he’s going to wreck you, he’s going to turn you into a babbling, trembling mess when the force of your orgasm finally hits and you’re allowing him to do it.

You need him to do it.

His hands smooth over the cheeks of your ass while he watches you, then finally, he looks away so that he can admire the view while he spreads you open.

“Fucking beautiful,” he murmurs his approval.

Din leans over just enough to spit into the crevice of your ass. The sudden warmth has you gasping again and clenching around his cock, which in turn, earns you a deep moan of approval. He wastes little time before he moves to rub the pad of his thumb over your opening again, only now, a slick wetness accompanies it.

The sensation is divine.

“Do you like feeling me here, Cyar'ika?” There it is again, that silky smooth voice: it’s low in pitch, but no less commanding for an answer.

The only thing that you’re able to string together is something close to a whine as Din’s thumb applies just enough pressure to breach the tight hole. The very tip of his thumb sits there, holding still as you writhe beneath him in an attempt to get him to push it in further.

“So eager,” he breathes. “Do you like feeling so full?”

You nod into the blankets as you scrunch them up and bury your face into the fabric with a moan.

“Yes,” you manage, voice muffled. “I fucking love it.”

He rolls his hips again, slower this time, controlled. It’s almost admirable, the way he manages to keep it together for so long: it’s one of the many things you love about him, his need to satisfy you, as well as himself. With another press of his hips, Din’s thumb eases further into you while his cock throbs against your walls with his growing need.

Maker, you feel so full.

You’re expecting Din to rest there, to take his time and enjoy the feel of your wet heat warming up his cock while his thumb is nestled deep inside of you. But he doesn’t, and there’s no denying it catches you by surprise.

His hips begin to thrust again: deep and hard, well-aimed and precise.

“Shit,” he curses with a moan. “You’re taking my cock so well tonight.”

You moan and whine against the blanket, lost to the pleasure, unable to form any sort of coherent words as Din fucks you over the cot. Every word he speaks seems to flood you, each moan of his pleasure and acknowledgement of how good you feel, drives you wild.

The fingers of Din’s other hand finally reach around to reward you with some attention to your clit. Finally, fucking finally. It induces a jolt of pleasure with such an intensity that it threatens to tip you straight over the edge.

You’re close. Closer than last time, and Din doesn’t stop. He doesn’t slow down.

“Fuck me, Din,” you cry out your request, as if he isn’t already doing so. “Fuck me. Make me cum. Please, please…”

The sound Din makes is something close to a snarl as he fucks you harder, causing wave after staggering wave of pleasure to crash over you.

Oh, fuck. You feel it coming.

Your orgasm rises from somewhere deep inside of you and builds with a force you’ve never experienced before. Din’s touch is everywhere: his fingers, his thumb, his cock. You don’t know which way to press your hips, you don’t know how to arch for the best result: it’s overwhelming, overstimulating.

There’s sounds coming out of your mouth that you have no control over: curses and praises, incoherent begs and cries for what you need.

And then it hits you.

You’re powerless to it and the way it rips through the whole of your body. Maker, it has you in a fucking chokehold as your body simultaneously tenses and trembles. No words form, only sounds of pure ecstasy are able to explode from your throat; ragged and desperate.

“Oh fuck. That’s it, Cyar'ika. So good… So good,” Din’s words are broken by breathy moans as he fucks you through your orgasm.

He’s close. You feel it in the way his hips buck, no longer holding their steady, controlled rhythm. Din’s thumb eases out of you, allowing himself to grip onto your waist with one of his larger hands while the other thuds down onto the cot beside you.

You’re thankful for the way his broad body crowds over you, pressing you tighter to the cot and keeping you in place as he cums with a broken cry of your name. You don’t trust your legs to hold you up any longer, especially not when you feel the warmth of Din’s load filling you deeply, his hips continuing to jut against you until he has given you everything.

You’re exhausted, spent… wrecked.

It takes a little time to muster up the energy to move, but eventually, you both make it into the bunk after Din’s remaining armor and clothes are removed.

“Mmh,” he groans and presses the warmth of his face into the crook of your neck. “You’re incredible.”

A soft, lazy smile curls onto your lips as you turn your head a little to see him settled against your chest. You could stay like this forever, tangled up with him while your fingers comb slowly through his damp hair.

“When is the next job?” You ask after a moment, trying to keep your voice from giving anything away.

“Not for a few days…Why?”

“Oh, I was just wondering,” you smile to yourself and close your eyes. “Next time, I won’t let you catch me.”

#the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #mando x reader #the mandalorian x female reader #din djarin x female reader #mando x female reader #the mandalorian x you #mando x you #din djarin x you #the mandalorian #din djarin #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin fanfiction

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luckbealincoln · 10 months

Note

HIiii I absolutely love BKS! I have been here since day 1 and have fallen in love with it more and more. May I request 62 & 253 please? Basically possessive Din with some degradation

A Little Attention

pairing : din djarin x f!reader

word count : 2.3k

summary : the mandalorian returns from a hunt rather stressed, you know just how to help him out

warnings, etc : smut, established relationship, din djarin consent king, porn with a mere spoonful of plot, dom/sub, dom!din, sub!reader, safe words, sort of pet play??, din calls reader puppy, choking, degradation, humiliation, but also praise, rough rough rough sex, p in v sex, unprotected sex, spanking, use of a belt, makeshift leash, creampie

a/n : i am so so sorry it's taking me so long to get through requests lmao i'm gonna set myself a reasonably goal of one per week and try and stick with that. i hope you enjoy!! this is uhhhh maybe the rowdiest fic i've written so far but also like i loved this request and i had so much fun writing this <3 now it's time for me to sleep so i hope y'all enjoy and have a good night!!

He’s in a mood when he comes back with the bounty.

He’s always in a mood when it takes more than a week. If the bounties alive they don’t make it known, they aren’t moving when he throws them into the carbonite. Walking in silence as he closes the doors to the Crest before storming off towards the ladder to the cockpit. He doesn’t acknowledge you in the slightest as he stomps right past you.

You know Grogu’s in his pod up there napping, thankfully Mando notices and quiets his stomping as you feel the ships engine kick on almost immediately, the familiar hum fills the hull as you continue your knitting.

If he wants to be grumpy, you’ll let him be grumpy.

When he returns he still doesn’t address you as he slams his weapons down, he doesn’t clean any of his blasters as he hangs them up. He carelessly tosses the several belts he wears to the floor. Once he seems satisfied with his little tantrum he looks down to where you’re sitting on the ground. You continue your work on the sweater you’re making for the little green monster.

“How long has he been asleep?” He snaps at you which obviously has you frowning. That’s the first thing he says after eight moons apart?

“I missed you too.” You mumble before setting your needles into the basket where you keep your yarns.

“Don’t do that, I hate it when you do that.”

“So you're the only one who’s allowed to be angry?” You start to stand, leaning against the wall of the ship as you glare at him.

“I had a long week.” He sounds strained but you have no problem pushing his buttons. You know exactly what to do to get out of this mood. He needs to let off some steam. And he won’t do it unless you get him riled up, it’s just how this goes, once he gets all his pent up aggression out he’ll be back to the Mandalorian you know and love. Although you certainly don’t mind dealing with this side of him for now.

“So did I. You act like watching the kid isn’t hard. He gets bored after just a few days stuck on the ship and then he starts throwing things around with the magic and it’s all a mess.” You cross your arms as you continue frowning at him. He’s already clenching and unclenching his fist. Good.

“I didn’t say-.”

“And then you come back and you act like I’m not even here, like I’m nothing more than a pet to you, to look after when you feel like it and ignore otherwise.” You go to push past you but a gloved hand shoves you back against the ship's wall by the throat. All the air is shoved out of your lungs and his grip loosens the second you’re pinned in place.

There it is.

“Color?” His voice has softened around the edges just the tiniest bit.

You can’t help but grin at him.

“Green.” The moment you say it his grip tightens again. Your hands come up to claw at his wrist a bit as you gasp. He moves closer until your nose is poking against Beskar.

“Is this what you wanted? Are you so desperate for my attention that you have to act like a brat the second I return? Maybe you are my pet, you’d probably like it if I kept you as a pet, wouldn’t you?” You’re having a hard time focusing on his words as your vision starts to get blurry around the edges, the natural panic caused by lack of oxygen taking over as you claw more desperately at his wrist. When he releases you, you slump to the floor, he doesn’t give you more than a few seconds to catch your breath before you watch his gloves hit the ground next to you and his fingers tangle themselves in your hair, yanking, your face flushes. “I expect an answer.”

Fuck, what was the question? Kriff you can’t focus on much as you nod, hoping that’s the answer he wants but you feel another sharp tug.

“Words.” He forces you to stare up at him.

“Fuck, yes, sorry.” He seems pleased enough as he drops you back to the floor.

“Tell me your colors, pet.” He picks up one of his belts, one without any attachments, holding the brown leather strap in his hands. You sit on your ankles as you watch him fold it in half, smacking it against his palm gently before turning back to face you.

Stars, that tone. When he wants to be in charge there’s no arguing with that deadly serious tone. That’s the sharp tongue of a killer.

“Green means good, yellow means slow, red means stop.” He drags the bend of the belt across your jaw before withdrawing it so quickly you flinch.

“Good. Now, on all fours, like a good puppy.” His voice remains dominant but now there’s a hint of mockery as you obey. Getting on your hands and knees in front of him. He drags the belt across the length of your dress ridiculously slowly, by the time he reaches your ass you're trembling.

He crouches down next to you.

“Scared puppy?” There’s no concern in his tone as he says it.

Not at all.

If anything you’re shaking in anticipation of what’s to come. And you won’t give him the satisfaction of a yes.

“No.” You make sure he sees your smirk but any smugness in your expression is lost when he swings the belt down, a loud snap echos through the hull as it hits your rear. You lurch forward. mouth opening in a silent scream.

He hums. Happy with your reaction as his free hand reaches down to lift your skirt up, bunching the fabric up on your hips so he can admire the faint red mark already blooming on your ass.

“How many do you think you’ve earned, pet?” He traces the mark with his fingertips and you instinctively crawl forward a little bit, he grabs the meat of your ass, squeezing, his nails leaving little crescents in your skin. “Stay still. Don’t make me put you on a leash.”

That certainly isn’t as much of a threat as he makes it seem.

He of course realizes exactly what you're thinking and his hand slips under the fabric of your underwear, his digits slide through the pool of wetness forming and he laughs as he pulls them away to hold them in front of your face.

“Is that what you want? A leash?” He brings his fingers to your lips in silent instruction for you to clean them, which you do. Tasting yourself as you lick them clean. “Well, pets don’t just get treats. You have to earn it.” You do your best not to flinch as you feel the belt rest against the skin of your thighs. “How about ten? You take the belt ten times and I'll put you on a leash?”

It’s a humiliating deal.

You both know that.

But the first hit felt so good. And you crave more of the sting that lingers afterwards.

Besides, you’ve let him do worse to you and he’s let you do worse to him and you’ve always enjoyed it so you nod. He removes his fingers from your mouth and ruffles your hair.

“Good girl.”

It’s all worth it to hear those words.

He kneels next to you, one hand on your chest to keep you from falling forward, the other raises the belt again. You hear the crack before you feel the sting. A small yelp leaving your mouth. He gives you no recovery time as he brings it down again. Alternating between the backs of your thighs and your ass.

After seven he’s holding you up with his free hand. Tears stream down your face and you’ve completely soaked through your panties. He sets the belt down and rubs the welts that are forming, trying to soothe a bit of the pain as you whimper.

“Color?” He asks as he continues to rub circles against your swollen skin.

“Green.” You murmur as you drop your head so you're staring at the floor.

“Good girl.” You hear him pick the belt up again and he’s quick with it, he’s never been one to prolong this sort of thing longer than necessary. He brings the belt down three more times in quick succession, one slap on each thigh and one on your ass. You whine, your back arching slightly as your torso drops to the floor.

As you wipe away the tears falling down your face he begins to gently wrap the belt around your neck, notching it like a collar around your throat so it doesn’t choke you unless he pulls on it. He moves to kneel between your legs as he pulls the belt to bring you back up on your hands. His free hand pulls your panties down to your knees as he kneads the flesh of your ass. Helping to ease the pain that demands your attention.

“Color?” He asks one more time as you sniffle, composing yourself.

You certainly haven’t come this far not to get fucked.

“Green.” When you say it he gently pats your ass.

“You’ve been such a good girl. Such an obedient little pet. Do you want my mouth or my cock?” He continues kneading your ass and you answer immediately, you’re too worked up to not have him inside you right now.

“Cock, please.” His hand leaves your rear and you hear the zippers of his flight suit followed by the head of his cock swiping through your folds.

You’re practically drooling in anticipation but you never feel the stretch, instead he tugs on the belt, you choke a bit and lean back instinctively, impaling yourself on his length. You groan as he sinks just the tip into your dripping cunt.

“Come on. Take it all on your own like a good little pet.” He growls out and you know exactly what he wants. He’s presented this as a reward but you know he expects you to take it yourself.

Which you happily do.

Thankfully he lets you take your time. His hand grips the makeshift leash but he doesn’t rush you as you push your hips back against his. Whining as you rock back and forth, without any prep and over a week without him you aren’t anywhere near ready for him. But his gasps and whispered praises are enough to urge you on as you slowly fuck yourself on his cock.

“Such a good girl. Kriff. Good girl, taking her reward, look so pretty on my cock, does that feel good?” Even through his groans he manages to sound condescending.

“S’good Mando.” Your hips stutter all the back, fully taking him with a yelp and he finally tugs on the leash again.

“What do you say?” He pulls you back completely so you’re flush against his chest, he drops the belt and wraps his arms around your torso to hold you against him. Pushing himself deeper into you.

“T-thank you.”

“Good girl. Take your reward.” You can hear his shit eating grin but you eagerly comply, starting to rock yourself up and down against him. His hand trails down your stomach pressing against you roughly, like he’s trying to feel himself inside of you.

It’s harder in this position but you still manage to ride him, the hand on your stomach moves down to find your clit, there’s nothing gentle about his motions, he’s trying to force your climax out of you as quickly as possible. His fingers draw angry circles over the pearl between your legs making you keen.

Your thrusts are weak, you’re barely getting an inch off of him as you squirm in his arms. But he must be just as pent up as you are because you recognize the grunts behind the helmet, he’s already close, his own hips starting to rut up into you.

“Come on, cum on my cock, show me how good you can be for me.” He groans, pinching your clit sending a jolt through your entire body. Everything tenses up as you clamp down on him, your vision goes dark for a moment as your cunt strangles his cock. The only thing keeping you upright is his hands and after a few messy thrusts you feel him finish inside you.

He holds you against him for a little while, at least until you catch your breath. He hisses as he pulls out of you before his hands find the belt, releasing the clasp and tossing it aside, quickly lifting you up into his arms.

“Thank you.” He mumbles as he pulls your panties back up your hips. Walking you towards the sleeping cubby.

“For what?” You rest your head on his chest as he sits you down on the edge of your shared sleeping mattress.

“For doing that. I’m not an idiot, I know that was for my benefit.” His hands run through your hair, combing through the tangles that he put there. You grin at him.

“Well it’s not entirely for your benefit, you’re in a better mood thanks to me so everyone’s happy.” He hums in response, carefully laying you down onto the bed.

“I’m gonna go check on the kid, make sure we didn’t wake him.” He stands and you pull a blanket up over you, exhausted. Before he leaves he gives your leg a loving squeeze. “Next time you can put the leash on me if I act like that.” He laughs and you hear him climbing the rungs of the ladder.

He sounded like he was joking but you can’t help but smile.

Maybe next time you will.

#din djarin/reader #mandalorian fanfic #mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin smut #luckbealincoln #mandalorian smut

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decembermidnight · 3 months

Text

The sweetest reward

Summary: You take care of the Mandalorian when he comes back after a wearying hunt.

Pairing: Din Djarin x f!reader

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: no plot - just smut, 18+ MDNI, Dom!Din, sub!reader, thigh riding, mutual masturbation, teasing, body worship, cock worship, praise kink, mando'a speaking kink, masculinity kink (I guess?), creampie

GIF by @thefrogdalorian

A/N: The inspiration came from this beautiful gif set made by @thefrogdalorian 💕 I kinda got Ner Mircet'ad vibes while writing this (Din's old armour, the Mando'a dirty talk...) so feel free to check that out too! See the end for Mando'a translations. Reblogs and comments are always appreciated!

Masterlist - Read on Ao3

The Mandalorian is comfortably slouching on the makeshift seat made up of ammo boxes and blankets in the hull of the ship, his legs spread wide, tired after his last hunt.

He's still holding the pulse rifle in his hands after unhooking it from the strap on his back. The mere vision of it sends a spark straight to your core.

Warrior, bounty hunter, beroya.

Strong, brave, fearless.

You could observe him for hours in reverential adoration as he cleans his weapons and armour, but the need for him is too strong and aching.

He tilts his helmet towards you when he acknowledges your presence. You, in turn, greet him with a sweet smile and he immediately lays his rifle down when he sees you after so many days.

You look breathtaking wearing nothing but a thin, silk robe that barely covers you, leaving nothing to imagination.

As you get close to him, he takes his gloves off. He wants to get lost in you, in the softness of your skin, in your delicate beauty after so many days of nothing but dirty cantinas and ugly mugs.

He doesn't say a word when you stop right in front of him and his hands start caressing your thighs, finally something warm and giving after knowing nothing but blasters and knives for what felt so long.

He loses no time in grabbing you by the waist and making you sit in his lap.

His hands immediately start to wander, caressing your body, making you feel worshiped under his gentle touch.

You stay there, arms wrapped around his broad shoulders as his hands give you goosebumps all over your body, making you hum and claw your fingers in his cape as he's reminded how soft you are and how much he missed holding you in his arms. The smooth fabric of your silk robe feels so precious to his hands, nothing like he's used to.

As his hand trails once again up your thigh, you instinctively spread your legs for him to touch your needy cunt. You get flustered when his hand slides up under your robe and softly caresses your tummy as his thumb slowly, painfully slowly glides down, teasing your lips. He lets out a long and aroused hum when he notices you are not wearing panties.

"P-please" you sigh, incredibly turned on already.

His thumb moves towards your clit and brushes it once, feeling how wet you are for him already. He doesn't go on, though, making you whimper.

"Already so wet for me and I've barely touched you" he chuckles "you missed me, didn't you?" says in a low, husky voice as he draws a few circles on your clit.

"Mmm - yes. Missed you so much. I want you." you mumble in bliss as he gives you pleasure with his expert fingers that know you like no other in the galaxy.

"You gotta earn it, mesh'la. You know that, right?"

“Yes - y-yes, my warrior.” you can barely stutter as you sink in his shoulder.

"Good girl." he praises you as he caresses your face, keeping you there, in his lap, taking all the time in the galaxy to worship your curves while hearing your sweet moans and looking at your aroused expression. Your eyes cross and roll as his thick fingers alternate drawing circles on your clit and thrusting inside of you. He can feel by the way you clamp around him and the way you breathe how much your body wants him, but he doesn't want you to get anywhere close to an orgasm, not yet, he wants to give you pleasure and to build it slowly, to get you nice and ready for when he can no longer contain himself.

"Ride my thigh like the needy thing that you are, show me how much you want it."

You immediately comply and straddle his thigh. Your body slightly jerks at the contact of the cold plate with your heated core - a detail that he does not miss, tilting his helmet slightly as you adjust yourself.

"Good girl. Like this." he encourages you as you begin to roll your hips and give yourself pleasure using his beskar armour. There's something about coating his precious Mandalorian armour in your arousal, using it for such a depraved, sacrilegious purpose that makes you feel even more eager and turned on.

"I want you, ner beroya. Please, let me ride you. I'm gonna take really good care of you." you pant in between heady moans, your eyes half closed as your swollen, needy clit rubs against the embossment of the plate.

"Yeah? You will?" he passes his thumb on your lips.

You nod mindlessly, smiling as you keep riding his thigh plate, pleasure slowly building up and making your whole body tremble with lust. You softly bite his finger as you let out heady groans that make him throb in his pants in anticipation. The sinful way your stiff nipples peek out from your skimpy robe is making it hard for him to resist.

"Then come here and show me." he grabs you by the waist and pulls you towards his body, making you straddle him. You feel hot and flustered and let out a gasp at that sudden movement, at him manhandling you as if you were weightless.

"Go on." he tilts his helmet to the side, his gaze locked on you.

As you start unzipping his pants, his hands unfasten the thin robe tie and you can hear him choking a grunt when the fabric parts and shows him your naked body underneath. His hand trails your inner thigh, making you gasp and gulp until his thumb reaches your clit. Your head rolls back and you let out a loud moan when he does that.

"Hey. Don't stop." he says in a cold, firm voice, as opposed to the throbbing, rock hard erection still trapped in his pants.

"S-sorry, ner beroya." you drawl in a moan as you resume your movements.

Once you free his cock, you start stroking it delicately, barely brushing it with your fingers. It twitches uncontrollably when he feels the delicate touch of your hand. It's painfully hard and veiny, hot in your hand and so sensitive as he didn't dare touching himself while he was away, saving all of his load for you. He stifles a whimper, the sound of it barely picked up by the modulator as he tries to keep his cool and appear impassive while never stopping touching your clit.

You try to lift your hips to go sit on his cock but the firm grip of his hands around your waist keeps you there.

"Please. Please, I want you inside me. Please, my warrior, let me ride you." you plead desperately.

He lets out an aroused hum and you feel his cock throbbing in your hand. He surely loves to hear you beg for him.

"Ner kotyc verd, I'm gonna take really good care of you" you say in a husky voice as you spread a drop of precum across his tip with your thumb, making him choke a grunt as you feel yourself getting wetter and wetter "I'll be so, so good to you. Ni lidiba gar." your voice is so seductive as you say it. The way you're teasing his cock as you plead for him in his native language is driving him insane, making him rabid like a beast. He has to have you, now.

"Dank Farrik. K'olar. I want to fuck you." he rasps in a broken voice, impatient to bury himself inside of you, bringing you right over his dick and undressing you, letting your robe fall on the floor.

You slowly sink down on his cock and you both let out a long, satisfied moan when you feel it pleasurably stretching your tight, needy walls with his thick girth.

You start to ride it slowly and smoothly, letting his already drenched cock slip out almost completely, leaving just the tip inside of you before welcoming it back in. You move your body sensually, looking so charming and entracing for his pleasure. You grab his hands and place them on your breasts. He follows your lead splendidly, without ever overriding you, trusting you and the gradually increasing rhythm you're setting.

Fuck - it's so perfect. You're so turned on at the idea of being the sweetest reward, the most beautiful thing to come back to, the best part of being a bounty hunter. You want it to be memorable, you want this every single time he comes back. He doesn't often let you ride him, so you want him to understand how pleasurable it can be, as used as he is to take everything he wants the way he wants. You want him to know how delightful it can be to just rest and let you take care of everything. You want him to burst while he looks at you.

His warm, naked hands start to wander all over your body to touch your hips, your waist, your breasts, making you groan and sigh. You hear his low, modulated moans as you feel his cock deliciously gliding in and out of you, entranced at how good it feels to be on top of him after a hunt. He's still dirty and tired but couldn't wait to fuck you. You love smelling his raw masculine scent, the dirt on his clothes and the burnt smell from his guns, all while admiring the sight below you - a deadly Mandalorian in full armour enjoying the way you're taking the stress out of him, enjoying the way you're riding his cock after so many days of lone hunting. He has always been in control, always on top or behind you, completely overwhelmed by the testosterone from the hunt of his bounties, needing your cunt to let it all out, leaving you wrecked, shaking and leaking with his cum afterwards, but this time is different. This time you're in control, and he relishes the way you're taking care of his needs, letting you handle everything.

"Look at you…" he whispers "So beautiful while you ride my cock, damn." he rasps.

"I love it." you sigh mindlessly.

"I see it. Keep - keep going." says, almost imploring you.

The sounds you are making are obscene - your cunt is drenched and dripping with juices and each time you bounce on his dick you can hear it squelching as it sucks it in avidly, clamping around it as if it can never have enough of it. Shit, you're getting dangerously close to your orgasm.

"Hey. You're c-close, I can feel it." he stutters.

"I am. I am, ner beroya."

"Don't come yet. Hold it there for me, mesh'la." his order has the opposite effect, making your cunt spasm even harder around him. A whimper escapes from your lips.

"No. Not yet. You get so tight when you're close. Let me - let me enjoy it."

"M-my warrior - missed you. Missed you so much. Please, let me - l-let come on your cock." you beg him sensually in between moans, overwhelmed by pleasure.

“So, so fucking tight.” he grunts when he hears you plead like that, when he feels your cunt getting tighter, your chest heaving in front of him. His mind gets dizzy at the way you're squeezing around him, bringing him dangerously on the edge, too.

"M-mesh'la, shit, I'm-" he whimpers, the grip of his hands on your waist gets firmer.

"Come inside me, my warrior."

The Mandalorian wouldn't want it to be over so soon, but he can't help it when he sees how much you want it and how you’re begging for him to fill you with his load.

"Mesh'la. Come. N-now." he stutters, trying not to burst inside of you immediately, not before he's satisfied you first.

Hearing him begging for you to come like that draws the orgasm out of you. You completely lose control as you come hard around him, going on riding him as you feel his seed spurting inside of you and dripping down your cunt causing a mess of fluids between your legs and drenching his pants, your voices moaning loudly filling the hull of the Razor Crest for those few seconds of pure, astounding bliss.

You slow down the rhythm as the orgasm fades out and you rest your heated forehead on his beskar helmet, the both of you panting heavily as you hold on tight to each other.

"You… you have been so good, cyar'ika." says in a ragged voice as he starts to rub your clit again, lubricated by both your sleek and his cum. "You deserve another."

His expert thumb circles your swollen, sensitive bundle of nerves in such a perfect way that you feel ready for another immense wave of pleasure, gripping the cape on his shoulders tight in your hands.

"Copaani haa'taylir tug'yc. Ke'dinui ni. Jate, bid mesh'la." he whispers as he drives you over the edge once again, making you uncontrollably scream and tremble, your eyes rolling up as this astounding second orgasm obliterates you. He grunts when he feels how tight you get around his spent, sensitive cock, still hard for you.

You collapse in his arms and he holds you there, your face buried in his neck while he's still inside of you.

Mando’a translations: I have used mandocreator.com as reference

Beroya = bounty hunter

Ner = my/mine

Mesh’la = beautiful

Ner kotyc verd = my strong warrior

Ni lidiba gar = I need you

K’olar = come here

Cyar'ika = darling

Copaani haa'taylir tug'yc. Ke'dinui ni. Jate, bid mesh'la = I want to see it again. Give it to me. Good, so beautiful.

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