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#the mandalorian smut
absurdthirst · 2 days
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Unexpectedly Mated {Alpha!Mando x F!Omega!Reader}
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 6.1k
Warnings: Alpha/Omega dynamics, heats, denying biological needs, religious creeds, removing your helmet, jealousy, territorial aggression, fingering, first kisses, vaginal sex, rough sex, knotting, mates, marking
Comments: Forbidden to remove your helmet by Creed, Mandalorians deny their basic biological needs as Alphas and Omegas. The helmet blocks the scant of their true mate. Until an open air vent leads Mando to discover that you are his omega.
Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers
*** When reblogging or talking about Omegaverse, please remember that ‘a/b/o’ without the slash punctuation marks (/) is considered a slur for the Aboriginal people in Australia.
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Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.
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“You must never remove your helmet.” The creed and these words drilled into you at a young age and you have never forgotten, would never be allowed to forget. The creed comes before all else. The covert comes before the individual. In a galaxy full of alphas, omegas, and betas…Mandalorians stood alone. Defying their biological status to better the covert, to keep the numbers up. You wear the helmet to not only protect your face but to keep you from recognizing your mate. The scent recognition of a mate is instant so the Mandalorian solution is to wear helmets with filters so that one can breed with anyone they prefer. Their minds are clouded with scent so the desire is the driving factor. The younglings are raised by the covert as a unit so the aim is to repopulate Mandalore. You suppress your omega urges with supplements and you’ve yet to breed. Too busy with bounty hunting alongside a certain Din Djarin. You’re drawn to him, that’s for sure, but you’ve never bred with him. He’s not interested in a family, in an ad. He wants credits. He wants to protect the foundling under his care and you’ve gone along for the ride.
“Din.” Your modulated voice calls out to him as he strides ahead of you after you reunited the frog woman with her husband. “The kid needs to eat.” You tell him, knowing you need to find the nearest cantina.
The sigh Din gives you is one of frustration and resignation. He likes the kid, he’s risked a lot to protect him, even his covert. The sins he has committed weigh heavily on his shoulders and he nods. “Come on.” He grumbles to the little one. “I know you’re hungry, we’ll get you something to eat.” Hopefully the Crest will be fixed soon. Unable to take off his helmet unless he is in his bunk is starting to frustrate him, the hermetically sealed space is starting to feel stale with the cycled air and he longs for a single breath of fresh air. He had also hoped to slip away for a moment, needing to find a medical facility to replace his implant. It had been damaged from his fight with Moff Gideon and he’s not had time to have it seen to. While he doesn’t visit a brothel or find a sexual partner often, he can feel the need to rut building up in his system. The alpha side he tries to suppress starts to bleed through his normally calm demeanor. 
You sit with the kid in the cantina, snorting when Din saves him from his own lunch and you glance around at the sailors. They mention Mandalorians and you are surprised to hear of your kind here, especially since Din wants to find them so he can help the kid return to his own planet. “Before we head off, maybe we can freshen up. I need to use the fresher and I’m sure you also want some time out of beskar.”
He groans at the idea of time outside the suit. Letting his skin breath and maybe he can work in a quick tug on his cock while he’s in the ‘fresher. “We’ll have to get rooms.” He reminds you, his head tilting towards yours. “Do you want to do that?”
You nod, “that sounds like a plan. I’m sure this one needs a nap after everything.” You say, reaching out to caress the kid’s ear. He coos at you and finishes his broth with a loud slurp. “Let’s find somewhere.” You say and throw some credits down for the broth. Din nods and you’re soon following him into the inn nearby. You are eager for a shower and some time out of the heavy beskar. Despite wearing it since you were a kid, you have always been weighed down by it. Din gets two rooms and you nod at him when he carries the now sleeping child into the room.
The child’s eyes never open, making Din chuckle quietly as he closes the pod and sets it in the corner of the room. Looking around to make sure the windows are covered before he reaches up and unlatches the edge of his helmet and groans quietly when he pulls it off his head. His hair is sweaty, but immediately the scent of the outside world is much more vivid. Making him inhale deeply and growl quietly at how good it all smells. Being an alpha as a Mandalorian was tricky, his own scent blocked by the helmet, but others could smell him. Making things difficult for him at times, especially when he cannot even walk around his own ship with his helmet unsealed because you are with him. Now, he sits on the edge of the bed, with his eyes closed and breathes deep, unaware that the vent between your two rooms has not been closed. 
You hum as you tilt your head under the water. An actual shower instead of the ‘fresher on the ship is a welcome surprise. You don’t realize the vent in your room is open so Din can smell you as your omega scent wafts through the room, warmed up from the shower and the water flowing onto your face blocks you from smelling Din.
It’s subtle at first. A teasing waft that caresses his nose and makes his cock twitch. The beautiful, heady scent of an omega. Making him groan quietly until the next wave hits him. His omega. The scent overwhelms him and he’s immediately hard, aching and desperate to claim the omega who is meant to be his mate. His mate. His eyes widen when he sees the vent opened, called to it as he follows the scent. It’s the vent that connects your room to his. You’re his mate.
You can feel a tugging in your stomach when you step out of the shower and you frown, wondering if you’re going to go into heat soon. You’ll need to get some more suppressants since you don’t have the time to spend days nesting while you are with Din. He doesn’t want you to be a needy omega holding him back from his quest. You dry off, shutting the door to the bathroom behind you and you lay down on the bed, unable to stop your hand from snaking down to rub your clit, a whimper escaping your lips.
Din snaps the vent closed. Hand curling into a fist as he pants against the shared wall. You’re his mate, his omega. His mind whirls as he tries to reconcile that new information with the stalwart and steady Mandalorian he has been bounty hunting with. He won’t deny that he wondered about fucking you before, it’s only natural that he would given how close you had been. His cock throbs as he imagines you in your armor, slowly stripping it off and walking around your room nude. Building a nest and begging him to join you. “Fuck.” He hisses.
You fall asleep naked on the bed after making yourself cum, relieving the ache in your stomach, enjoying being out of your beskar. You sleep until there’s a knock on the door and you groan, waking up and immediately grabbing your helmet to slide it onto your head. “It’s time to go.” Din says and you call out, “no problem. I’ll get ready and be right out.”
You redress in your beskar, your stomach still aching but you decide you’ll seek out some suppressants later. Opening the door, you find Din standing there with the kid. “Morning buddy.” You coo to the child and look up at Din who looks tense. “Everything okay?” You ask him, tilting your helmet. 
You know that Din can be all business but there’s something off about him. You ignore it and follow Din down the hall to find the sailors who are granting you passage on their boat to find the Mandalorians that are apparently on the planet. Later on, you admire the water as the raft moves along, glancing at Din who is stiff, well, stiffer than normal. “Are you sure you’re okay?” You ask softly, the sailors moving around behind you.
“Let me go!” You growl in anger, swinging your arm to fling a sailor into the water. Using your strength to try and untangle yourself from the ropes when Din and the child are in danger and that’s when they appear: the Mandalorians.
The redhead who introduced herself as Bo Katan shakes her head. “I’ve heard of your sect of the religion but Maker…I didn’t know how far it went in controlling its followers. On Mandalore, we wish for alphas and omegas to find their mate, it makes for stronger bonds, stronger families. We don’t - that is not something we dictate.” You swallow harshly as her words, feeling a tugging in your stomach that makes you want to lean towards Din but you push that aside. “You can remove your helmet and you would not be dar'manda.” Bo Katan explains and you’re so tempted.
Din stands up, angry at them for tempting him, tempting you. He shakes his head. “You are not mandalorian.” He growls, reaching down and takes your arm to pull you to your feet. “We are leaving.” He tells you, turning and striding away from the group angrily. 
You let Din guide you out of the cantina and you sigh, “Din. Slow down. Maybe…maybe they are telling the truth. As Mandalorians, we are denying our biological need. We are denying nature itself. Why? What- what good is it?” You ask him, the child in the pouch nestled against his hip.
“What good is it?” Din stops and spins around, crowding you slightly and even though you cannot smell it, pheromones pour off of him in heavy waves. All this talk of mates and finding out you are his has him desperate to claim you. To take what is his. “The Creed. That is what good it is. Our secrecy is our survival. We. Do. Not. Remove. Our. Helmets.” 
You shake your helmet, stumbling back away from him. “I do not want to breed with whomever the armorer tells me to. I want to find my mate. I want to feel complete.” You yell, quickly flicking the lock to your helmet and you waste no time lifting it off of your head in public for the first time since you were twelve. It hits you immediately. His scent. He’s an alpha. Your alpha. “You- oh Maker. Alpha.” You address him, your stomach twisting with sudden need for him.
Din hisses, his body jerking at the tone of your voice, the submissive nature of it. Calling to him. His hands curl into fists and he moves, shielding you from any eyes that could possibly see your face. “Put your helmet on.” He demands roughly, knowing that he cannot do this right now. He cannot have this conversation with you in the middle of a spaceport. 
Your lower lip trembles, feeling the rejection, and you shove your helmet back on your head, flicking the lock and his scent is replaced with fresh air through the filter. “Clearly you do not wish to have me as your omega so I am going to go back to the cantina. Perhaps another alpha can help with my heat.” You didn’t get a chance to pick up suppressants and the scent of your alpha has your stomach twisting with the sudden heat, the urge to mate and be claimed by him has you sweating already. You need to be touched and as much as you wish for it to be him, it’s obvious that he doesn’t want that. You spin on your heel before he can answer to make your way back into the cantina.
Growling, Din watches you walk off. Sighing when he knows he cannot follow you. The child is still beside him, looking up and cooing at him as if to tell him that he had fucked up. “Come on kid.” He grunts, turning and walking away from you even though his entire body is screaming to follow you. “I need to find someone to watch you.” He knows he cannot have a conversation with you around the kid, around anyone. He needs to find another room, then he will bring you back for a talk. 
You want to take off your helmet and down a spotchka or five, but Din’s command to not remove your helmet is ringing in your ears. You sit at the bar when you feel a presence next to you. “What’s a Mandalorian omega doing all alone?” He asks and you snort, “I haven’t got an alpha.” You state despite your chest aching, knowing you have an alpha but he doesn’t want you. On your walk to the cantina, you realized that Din didn’t question being your alpha. Which means he must’ve taken his helmet off at some point and found out. You wonder how long he’s known. Why he had kept it from you. “That’s good news for me, sweetheart. I’ve never been with a Mandalorian before and it smells like you might be needing an alpha at any moment.” He says, leaning closer and your stomach pangs with the beginning of a heat. 
“I- I ran out of suppressants.” You confess, turning towards him despite everything in you wanting to run to find Din.
The Frog Lady had agreed to watch the baby, leaving Din to go back to the little inn where you had stayed last night and get another room. He knows that he owes you a conversation, a real conversation and he cannot do that in public. Once he has the key, Din tucks it into his belt and sets off for the cantina. He knows you are angry at him, hurt. He wants to give you time to cool down for a moment, to think rationally again. To remember your creed so both of you can agree that nothing will happen until you can find the armorer again and speak with her. Striding confidently towards the seedy little bar, he is sure that it would work. 
You giggle when the alpha leans in, telling you a joke about Jawas and you are distracted for a moment from talking about your heat. He offers to buy you a drink but you decline, not wanting to take your helmet off, but it’s nice to talk to someone without them just giving you a grunt as an answer. You unconsciously lean closer to the alpha, your body heated as your biological need threatens to overwhelm you.
Walking into the bar, Din unlocks his helmet, unsealing it so he can smell you. Attraction and arousal, pouring from you and he follows the scent. Finding you sitting at the bar, another alpha leaning in, obviously interested in touching you, fucking you. The need to protect you roars to life in his chest and his alpha nature  rips through his self control. Moving quickly to you, barely resisting the urge to pull his blaster on the cocksure alpha who is grinning at his mate. “Get the fuck away from her.” He growls, shoving between the two of you and puffing up his chest, towering over the other man and trying to be as intimidating as possible.
You gasp at Din’s sudden appearance and you stand up from your stool. “Alpha.” You place your hand on Din’s chest plate to keep him back from the other alpha. 
“Hey buddy. Me and this omega were talking.” The alpha says and you wince under your helmet, knowing that he needs to shut up before he gets a blaster in the face. 
“Din, just leave him.” You huff, pissed that he is dictating what you can and can’t do.
“My omega.” Din growls, his hand inches away from his blaster and he stares hard at the man from behind his visor. “Move away.” He warns but the man scoffs and doesn’t look impressed. 
“She doesn’t seem taken. She seems like she’s real interested in getting to know me. ‘Bout to go into heat, needs an alpha buried in her cunt, knotting her.”
His words make you wince as you know Din, any alpha, wouldn’t allow them to speak about their omega that way. “It’s obvious you haven’t claimed her. What’s wrong, Mando? Not got the balls to do what needs to be done. She doesn’t smell like you. She smells wet. She smells ready for a cock. Clearly you aren’t enough for her. She wants to get fucked.” The alpha smirks, pushing Din’s buttons even more.
Din’s hand shoots out, wrapping it around the other alpha’s throat and squeezing harshly. Enjoying the way his pheromones immediately turned to ones of distress and his eyes bulge while his blue skin turns purple as the airways are cut off by the pressure of Din’s hand. “My omega.” Din rasps out, voice dangerously low and threatening. “Mine. Not yours. Mine.” The urge to kill him is clouding his thoughts, to demonstrate that you are his. That he would protect you.
“Alpha. Alpha. Don’t. He’s not worth it. I’m yours. I’m yours.” You promise Din, knowing that fact deep within your bones but you’re still furious with him. You place your hands on his chest plate, your helmet tilted towards his, “please. Just take me back to the inn. Don’t do this.”
Slowly, Din relaxes his fingers and lets go. Getting immense satisfaction when the other alpha gasps for air and immediately grabs his throat. He grabs your hands and ducks his shoulder down, hauling you over his shoulder like he would a bounty. Ignoring your shrieks as he storms out of the cantina with you.
You are shocked that Din is carrying you back to the inn and, you can admit to yourself, turned on by the primal display. "Din. Put me down!" You demand but he ignores you until he's in front of the room he had gotten for you. Finally putting you down. "I can't believe you did that." You shake your helmet and he opens the door.
 "Inside." He demands and you obey him immediately, stepping into the room. Din steps into the room, letting the door close and locking it behind him. “You were going to let him touch you?” He demands, pissed off that you were searching for someone, despite the fact that he had not immediately claimed you.
You feel defiant now despite being alone with your alpha. "I was. I am going into heat. If you didn’t touch me, I needed to find another alpha to satisfy my needs." You declare despite knowing that no one would give you what you need from Din. 
“You’ve worked through heats before.” Din growls, remembering how he had heard your whimpering cries from your bunk as you used your toys. It had been hard to deal with, when he hadn’t known he was your alpha. Wanting to offer you his cock the entire time, but he had respected your need for privacy. “Why not this time?”
“Because - because I wanted to feel wanted. I wanted someone to touch me who wanted to touch me, to make me feel something. I know you already knew I was your omega. You weren’t shocked when I found out you were my alpha. You didn’t - you didn’t sound surprised at all. How long have you known?” You ask, crossing your arms.
He leans back from you, surprised that you are attacking him and not liking it. “I-“ he huffs, rolling his eyes under his helmet and sighs. “Yesterday.” He admits quietly. “The vents between our rooms weren't closed. I-I smelled you when I took my helmet off.”
You are placated when you find out it was only yesterday but you’re still hurt that he didn’t tell you. “I didn’t smell you yesterday. I - I was showering and I -” You frown under the helmet. “You weren’t going to tell me, were you?”
“I- we-“ Din shakes his head. “You know what Mandalorians do.” He reasons with you. “The Armorer aligns breeding partners. I-“ He bites his lip under his helmet and sighs. “I was going to ask the Armorer for you, to be paired with you when we find them again.”
You understand where he is coming from but you feel frustrated by him. "Din. We - we are mates. What we have is...it's more than the creed. It's more than just breeding. It's how it is supposed to be. It's primal and raw. We are mates. Destined for each other and you've been by my side for so long yet neither of us knew what the other was meant to be. I want - I want you. I need you. Fuck the creed. Fuck the Armorer. You're my alpha and I - I want you. No matter what the consequences are." You say, "but if you don't want that - want me - I will leave. I'll go back to the covert and you can finish your quest alone."
He wants to argue against your comments, his heart twisting when he hears you say you would walk away. “Always wanted you.” He confesses quietly, breathing deeply and soaking in your scent. “Since the second week together. Watching you wipe the floor with that Twi.” He snorts, smirking slightly under his helmet. “Wanted you all the time.”
You chuckle, remembering that fight when you were both so much younger. You step towards him, "I have always wanted you. Always imagined you when I was in my nest." You confess softly, "I think I knew, unconsciously, that I was yours."
“I thought about you a lot.” Din confesses, taking a deep breath as he remembers what Bo Katan had said about mates being able to reveal their faces to each other. He takes a deep breath and reaches up to slowly start sliding his helmet off.
Your eyes widen under your helmet as Din exposes his face to you and you get your first look at his handsome face. "Maker. You are -" You can see him tense with anxiety and you reach up with your gloved hand to cup his cheek. "Mesh'la." You tell him, unable to tear your eyes away from those beautiful brown eyes. "Do you - you can remove my helmet...if you want."
He’s proud that you find him appealing. His one glimpse of you too fleeting for his own liking, finding you mesh’la as well. “I want to see you, omega.” He hums as he slowly reaches for your helmet. “My omega. My mate.”
You’re nervous for him to fully look at you without your helmets on, and your heart pounds beneath your chest plate. You bite your lip when your eyes meet his without the pixelated visor screen and his brown eyes soften. “Din. Alpha.” You murmur, watching him as he stares at you.
“Mesh’la.” He murmurs softly, staring into your eyes and feeling his cock harden beneath his flight suit as he smells and sees you clearly for the first time. He groans your name. “Omega.”
You ache for him, your heat curling in your stomach, and you wonder what he wants, if he still wants to wait until you return to the covert. “I don’t know what you want from me right now. Do you want us to put our helmets back on and continue on like this never happened until we return to the Armorer?” You ask, a little breathless.
“I cannot pretend I haven’t seen your face, smelled you.” Din groans, his eyes nearly closing in pain when a wave of arousal drifts over him. “I- you’re mine.” He growls again. “You are going into heat, I will take care of you.”
You whimper at his words, your body starting to get overheated with need. “Alpha.” You gasp, starting to work on removing your beskar, needing to feel the air on your hot skin. “I need you.” You pant, efficiently stripping down until you’re in your bra band and panties, boots kicked aside and you slide your hand into your panties, needing to rub your clit for some relief.
“Omega.” He growls, body tense and he steps forward, his need to touch you and take care of you nearly overwhelming his rational sense. He is about to touch you, still completely dressed in his armor except for his helmet. When he sees his gloves, he stops. “Get on the bed.” He orders, starting to strip down himself. Needing to press his skin to yours. “I will make sure you don’t need your fingers. You can have mine.”
You obey his order, shifting to lay down on the bed after reluctantly pulling your fingers out of your panties, and you watch him strip off. “Alpha. You are - you’re mesh’la.” You say, sitting up on your elbows to watch him, seeing the scars from blasters that grazed the vulnerable spots in his beskar and you want to kiss every one of them.
His own groan is one of pride and need, seeing you squirming on the bed, waiting for him. His omega, needy and wet. His hand wraps around his cock and he slowly starts to jerk himself. “You are mesh’la, cyar’ika.” He hums, eyes dark and full of lust. The waves of need and want roll off of you and mix with his own desire to fill the room. “My sweet little, omega. Wanting my cock, needing my knot.”
His voice, unmodulated, makes you shiver, and you watch him with wide eyes. “Yours, alpha.” You promise, reaching behind you to unclip your bra band, tossing it onto the floor to expose your tits to his gaze as he pumps his cock. You are aching for him. “Please. Alpha. I need your touch.”
He’s heard it before. The needy begging and calling to his alpha, but never from his mate. Growling, he scrambles onto the bed, one hand grabbing your breast while the other rips your panties off effortlessly.
You cry out in satisfaction as he quickly pushes two thick digits inside of you. “Yesss.” You hiss, feeling the ache assuage slightly with his digits curling deep inside of you. “Fuck, Din. Alpha. Yes.” You whine, tilting your head towards his.
It will be the first time he’s kissed anyone and it’s fitting that it’s his mate. His lips come crashing down against yours roughly as he curls his fingers inside you. Unskilled, he relies on what he had imagined doing, watching holo vids and jerking off when he was alone in his bunk. His tongue pushing into your mouth when you moan and he makes a feral sound of pleasure of his own.
You moan into his mouth, tangling your tongue with his and it’s unskilled but passionate. Your hands tangle in his hair, tugging slightly and you feel his cock twitch against your thigh. You’ve both had sex before, neither of you have kissed and it’s clumsy but you soon get the hang of it.
He feels like he doesn’t want to ever stop kissing you. Pumping his fingers deep inside your quivering cunt, he groans and rocks his hips against your belly. Loving how eagerly you respond to me.
You pant into his mouth, getting closer to orgasm with the way his fingers pump into you. "Alpha. I'm gonna- you're gonna make me - fuck!" You cry into his mouth as you clamp down on his digits, the ache in your belly satiated for a moment.
The first orgasm from his omega nearly makes him cum untouched. Din moans your name as he works you through the way your walls clench and your juices soak his hand. Pleasured pheromones pour off of you and he ducks his head down to press his tongue to your scent gland.
Feeling his tongue on your scent gland has you whining his name and your nails dig into his back, wanting him to bite you but he won’t until he’s ready. “I need you inside of me. Please, alpha.” You beg, gently pushing him off of you so you can shift onto your hands and knees for him.
Din growls, loving the submissive display, looking at your dripping cunt as you move to your hands and knees. Showing him how badly you need him. “My omega is eager.” He groans, slapping your ass and squeezing your hips as he throbs. He knows this first time will be rough. You know it too. Taking his cock on his hand, he shuffles forward and notches it at your entrance. Hissing when he snaps his hips forward ruthlessly and buries himself deep in your cunt.
Your breath is immediately pushed from your lungs and you gasp as he stretches you out. You fall forward onto your elbows and squeeze your eyes shut as he doesn’t hesitate to start moving inside of you. It’s rough and your body feels like it’s on fire. “Yes! Oh fuck, yes! Alpha. I- shit.” You curse, cunt fluttering around his cock.
You’re perfect around him. Gloriously tight and taking every harsh thrust with a choked moan as he starts to hammer into you. Need and the instinct to give you every piece of himself has him gripping your hips like you might get away from him and rocking deep to push up against your womb.
You grip the sheets beneath you, your cheek pressed against them as he pushes into you over and over again. “Fuck. Oh fuck Din.” You pant, thighs starting to shake as he pushes you closer and closer to orgasm with every harsh rock of his hips.
Suddenly, Din stops. Circling his hips as he lifts your and grinds into you. He was going to cum and he wants to make sure that you are satisfied before he gives into any of his own needs. “Fuck, omega, you are so perfect.” He grunts out, panting as he feels you squeeze him. “Are you going to be a good girl and take my knot? Let me breed you one day?”
You whine, deep from your throat. “Yesss. I’ll let you- have as many as you want, alpha. I want to be good for you. Want you to be happy.” You pant, thighs shaking still as he grinds deep and his hand spreads wide until his thumb is pressing against your clit.
“Good girl.” He growls out, twitching inside you. He’s imagined breeding you before, many times, even before knowing you were his omega. Hoping that working with you would cause the armorer to place you together to breed. It was why he let you on his ship. “Fuck, I- you feel so good ‘mega. So fucking tight around my cock.”
Your nails dig into the sheets and you are desperate for him to make you cum. The fire in your belly is burning and sweat beads on your forehead. “Alpha. Please.” You whine, grinding yourself back onto him. “I need - need to cum. It burns.” You almost sob with need.
“It’s okay,” he coos, rubbing your clit as he starts rocking into you again. “Your alpha is going to take care of you. Make sure your little cunt is happy by the time you leave this bed.”
You grind back onto him, his hips still not moving as he rubs your clit, and you practically sob with relief when you cum. Clamping down on his cock, you moan his name, his designation, and soak him. “Yessss.” You hiss, thighs violating shaking as you ride your high.
“Fuck.” He groans, his hands tightening on you as he feels you cum around him. “It’s so good, cyar’ika. My omega.”
You slump into the sheets, the burning dissipating for a moment so you can catch your breath and Din’s fingers dig into your hips. “Alpha. Maker, I need - I want you to knot me. Please. Fuck me hard.” You beg breathlessly.
“Yes, yes, my ‘mega can take it.” He growls proudly. “Take my cock and beg for more.” As he starts to thrust harder, it feels like he’s going to beat the bed through the wall, knocking the headboard against the panel with a loud clang every time he pushes deep.
“I can take it. I want more. Always want more. Please baby. Fuck me. Fuck me harder, Alpha.” You demand, your hands coming out to stop yourself from being squashed against the headboard.
He wants to bite you, to mark you as his even though no one would ever see your marks except him. His secret claim on you under your armor. His hisses out your name and manages to increase his frantic pace. “Fuck, fuck, Dank ferik.”
You whine his name, “Alpha. Oh Maker. You - it’s - oh shit. Shit. Shit.” You wail as you cum again, clamping down on his cock and gushing around him, feeling his knot starting to catch and you know he’s close. “Cum. Cum for me.” You beg breathlessly, reaching back to touch his hand on your hip.
Din collapses on top of you, Pushing you down to the bed, hips never stopping as he drives into you again and again. Fucking you into the bed as if that was his singular focus in life. “Gonna, gonna cum.” He grunts out, warning you. “K-knot you.”
“Do it. Fuck, I need it. Need it, Alpha.” You beg and he pushes deep just as his knot catches, his seed painting your walls with spurt after spurt. You whine in pleasure, feeling satisfied and you tilt your neck. “Make me yours, Din.”
The audible pop of his knot slipping into you releases a feral growl from deep in his chest. Unable to stop himself, his face turns towards your neck and his teeth sink into your scent gland. Marking you as his irrevocably.
You cum again from the pleasure of being tamed and from him knotting you. You sigh into the sheets when Din licks the mark he left on your skin. “I love you.” You confess, “even before I found out you’re my alpha. I’ve always loved you.” You confess with your eyes closed.
Din sighs softly and even though he could not pull away from you because of his knot, he wraps his arms around you to keep you close. “I had hoped the armorer would pair us together.” He confesses quietly. “That's why I let you join my crew.”
He shifts onto his side and you curl back into his chest, “whatever happens…it’s you and me and the kid. Even if we have to leave the covert. I would like to keep you, to keep you safe.” You promise him and he leans in to nuzzle your neck.
“Kar’ta.” He murmurs, feeling like he is complete for the first time since his nature was revealed. His other half is in his arms and he wants nothing more than to keep you there. “Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome.” He whispers softly, wondering if you will repeat the wedding vows back to him. “Mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde.”
You smile and squeeze his forearm. “Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome. Mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde.” You repeat back, turning your head to look at him, “riduur.” You whisper, kissing his jaw, “my riduur.”
“Riduur.” His spouse. You are married to him now, his - both by your nature and by your religion. “I will keep you and the child safe.” He vows, his hand sliding down to your stomach. “And any who follow.”
You kiss his lips softly, smiling against him as you place your hand over his on your stomach. “We will face whatever we need to face together. My riduur. My alpha. And when we are ready, I’ll happily have your children. Maybe we can settle on Navarro. Get a little cottage and live a peaceful life together.” You vocalize the dream you’ve had for years.
“That would be good.” He knows that it might never happen, but he wishes for it. “First we must finish our quest.” He hopes to find the armorer again and have you declared a clan of three. It will take some time, but you have time. Both of you have implants to prevent a child and his knotted cock twitches inside you as he thinks about filling you with his baby.
“Finish the quest.” You agree, “then we have the rest of our lives together. I love you, Din Djarin. My alpha.” You murmur, kissing his jaw again. “Whatever happens, we will face it together as mates. As partners.” You promise, unsure of the road ahead but you will be together, connected as one, and you will ensure the child’s safety. This is the way.
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beskarandblasters · 2 days
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Immortal By Design
Possessed!Din Djarin x F!Reader
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Main Masterlist | Din Djarin Masterlist | Story Playlist
Author’s note: I originally had this posted as a mini series, but I decided to make it a one shot instead! (。◕‿◕。) To see what this Din looks like, click here! ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
Summary: Din Djarin picks up a mysterious job at the Bounty Hunter’s Guild from a high paying client that specifically requested him. Once he tracks down the bounty, he discovers two things— you tracking the bounty for different reasons entirely and a lot more than he bargained for.
Word count: 8k
Warnings: reader is able-bodied, canon divergent (long live the Razor Crest), no Grogu in this universe, possession, cursed object, dark!Din, monsterfucking (I think), Din has heightened capabilities, dub con/noncon, restraints, reader gets captured, oral sex (M and F receiving), rough oral sex, fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, mir’sheb = smart ass, character death, no use of y/n
Fic notifs: @beskarandblastersfics Fic recs: @kelbellsficrecs
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Part One: Possession of Another Kind
It’s a typical day on Nevarro. Din walks through the marketplace, heading towards the Bounty Hunters Guild to pick up another job as part of his normal routine. 
Typical. Normal. Ordinary. 
That is unless he steps into the Guild. 
“Mando!” Karga shouts, beckoning for him to come to his booth. He seems frantic… urgent. Before Din even has a chance to speak, Karga continues, pulling out a tracking fob and setting it on the table. 
But for once there’s no bounty poster hologram, no flickering blue lights. 
“No poster?” Din asks, cocking his helmet to the side. 
“No…  But the reward is quite large.”
“How much?”
Karga scans the room, eyes bouncing from person to person. He leans forward, lowering his voice and saying, “A million credits.”
Din can’t believe his ears. There’s no way this is legit. No one on Nevarro or in the Outer Rim for that matter has that kind of credits. 
“Sounds like a scam,” Din says, leaning back in the booth. 
“It’s not. Droid came here this morning and dropped off the fob. Said they’d back with the reward once the bounty was captured.”
“You know I don’t care for droids.”
“You can’t pass up this reward.”
“…No one else wanted this job?”
“The client specifically requested you.”
Din’s hairs stand on their ends. A shiver runs down his spine. The fact that someone did their research… Someone who knows who he is and specifically chose him for the job is suspicious but also intriguing. And the reward is too prosperous to pass up. This bounty must be dangerous if the client is willing to pay this much. 
“Fine. I’ll do it,” he sighs. He takes the fob from the table and slips out of the booth. 
“Good luck,” Karga says with a strange look in his eye.
Din isn’t one to get scared, but the circumstances here are undeniably ominous. Between Karga’s strange behavior, the missing bounty poster, and the absurdly high reward, Din has an unsettling feeling coursing through his body. He heads back to the Crest, his mind wandering with the possibilities of what exactly he just got himself into. 
He plugs in the coordinates from the fob into the control panel of the Crest. And the location is an immediate red flag…
The bounty is located on Malachor of all places. 
Malachor is a barren wasteland of a planet. Din knows the planet means bad news but he doesn’t know why exactly. Something about the Empire or the Sith. The Empire he’s well acquainted with but the Sith? The Jedi? Not so much. 
At least if it’s a barren place, the bounty shouldn’t be too hard to find, right? He’s not too worried about the potential Sith connotations just yet. Din’s a capable warrior, raised by the best of the best in the galaxy. He should be able to hold his own without too many troubles. 
He sets a course for Malachor and takes off. Nevarro gets smaller and smaller underneath him and the unsettling feeling returns. He just keeps reminding himself of the life-changing reward he’ll receive if he succeeds. 
Not if but when.
-
It doesn’t take too long to get to Malachor from Nevarro. Both are Outer Rim planets. So thankfully, the journey there was rather uneventful. 
But when he lands on Malachor? That’s a different story.
He lands the Razor Crest on the desolate surface, grabs the fob, and heads outside. Barren would be an understatement to describe this planet. It’s empty. There’s not a single soul around for miles. It feels like the planet is absent of all light sources. Thick, gray, clouds coat the sky above him. The ground beneath his feet is a rocky wasteland. It’s not hard to understand why there’s no life here; why no one comes here. All of this begs the question; what is the bounty doing here?
He follows the signal of the tracking fob, feeling like he’s walking in circles for ages. His surroundings are the same, with no identifiable landmarks or features around to let him know he’s making progress. He feels his sanity start to slip. The tracking fob keeps beeping monotonously, showing no signs that he’s getting closer to the target. It’s driving him insane. For an uninhabited planet, this bounty is a lot harder to find than he originally thought. He starts to wonder… Is this even worth it anymore? Is it worth his time and frustration?
He interrupts his own train of thought.
Yes. Yes, it is worth it. For a million credits, you’ll spend however long it takes to find the bounty, he tells himself.
Good things come to those who wait. In the distance just over the horizon line, he spots something odd. As he gets closer he can slowly make out what it is– four top-heavy, pyramidal stones situated in a square formation. The tracking fob beeps faster and louder as he gets closer to the stones. Once he’s up close and personal with them he sees just how massive they are. They tower over him and etched in the stone is a language he can’t understand, written in bright red. One of the stones is surrounded by an opening in the planet, a deep hole descending below the surface. The tracking fob only goes crazier as he draws closer to the crater. Only way to go from here is down. 
He uses his jetpack to carefully lower himself into the hole, using the lamp attached to his helmet to see where he’s going. Once he feels the ground beneath his feet, he looks around and can’t believe his eyes. 
A vast field of stones is buried underneath the surface, each of them etched with the same red lettering he saw up above. And in the center of the field is a black stone pyramid, the tip of it glowing red. He looks beneath him and he’s standing on a cliff. He lowers himself deeper into the field of stones, his hairs standing on their ends. This is unmistakably a bad place. 
Something ominous looms in the air, a feeling of dread brewing in Din’s stomach. But he persists, following the trail the tracking fob is taking him. He inches closer and closer to the temple? The tomb? Whatever that pyramid-looking thing is. As he gets closer to it, a disembodied voice calls to him. 
Come closer. 
…Is it the bounty? The voice didn’t sound like it was speaking out loud… It sounded like it was inside Din’s head. 
But how is that possible?
He’s at the opening of the pyramid and it all happens so fast. The tracking fob is ballistic, beeping, and flashing lights rapidly. Everything is a blur around him. It’s like his mind isn’t in control of his body. 
All he can hear is the fob going off and the voice talking directly in his ear. 
Come find me.  
A large box stands before him, blackened stone etched with red, just like everything else in this strange place. He’s not sure what this place is exactly but he feels like he has to be standing in some sort of temple. The box looks more like a tomb, long enough for Din to fit inside of it lying down. This place definitely belongs to some sort of religion. Maybe even a cult. Could this place belong to the Sith? What is he getting himself into?
Open the lid, the voice commands. 
He does as he’s told, lifting the heavy stone lid and revealing… an amulet. 
Put me on. Don’t be shy, the voice says. 
He looks down at the fob in his hand, the beeping is incessant. It can’t be any clearer that this… this thing is what he was sent to look for. 
Put me on, the voice commands again. 
He takes the silver chain in his hands, the red pendant glowing red just like everything else here. He really shouldn’t put this strange, seemingly bewitched object on but he feels compelled to. The voice is convincing, talking to him like this is what he’s supposed to be doing. 
He lifts the chain above his helmet pulling it down around his neck. 
Protect me. Keep me close to your heart. 
Without thinking he tucks the chain into his flight suit, feeling the cool metal contrast against his warm skin. All of a sudden he feels… different. He’s not really sure how to explain it but he feels better, like he’s more in tune with himself. He feels stronger, more alert, almost like he’s on another plane of existence. It’s exhilarating like someone just gave him the best drugs in the galaxy. 
The beeping on the tracking fob finally subsides. Could it be that he was after all this time? That doesn’t make sense. He was sent to track down… an object? No, that can’t be right. 
But it does make sense why there was no bounty poster. It makes sense why the client was so mysterious.
Another question crosses his mind… 
Why was the reward so high?
His mind swirls with questions and possibilities as to what this all means—the voice buts in, interrupting his train of thought.
It doesn’t matter how or why. It happened for a reason. 
He decides the voice is right and revels in his newfound heightened state. Listening to this voice that seemingly comes from nowhere feels right, almost like he’s complete. 
As he exits the pyramid a shout rips him from his bliss. 
“What have you done?!”
He turns around to find a woman. That woman is you, your brow furrowed and your face aghast. You storm over to him, your eyes looking past him and into the pyramid; into the open tomb.
Din’s speechless, unsure of what exactly your problem is. He was just completing a job. What’s it to you? Mindlessly, his hand gravitates towards the chain under his flight suit, almost feeling the need to protect it. 
“You didn’t put it on, did you?” you ask, turning your gaze back towards him. 
“What does it matter to you?” he snaps.
“You have no idea what you just did.”
“It’s a necklace. I put it on. It’s not the end of the world,” he deadpans. 
“You don’t know what that is?”
“…No?”
You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose. Din doesn’t understand what’s going on, he doesn’t understand why you’re so pressed by this. It’s just an object. It can’t hurt anyone. 
“That amulet is cursed by one of the Mortis Gods… the Son.”
“…Who?”
“You don’t know who the Mortis Gods are? The Ones?”
“It sounds familiar?”
Don’t listen to her, the voice chimes in. 
“The Mortis Gods were a powerful family of force-wielders. The Son embodied the Dark Side. The Daughter embodied the light side. And the Father held the balance between them until the Son grew too powerful. And then- Actually you know what? I’m not here to give you a kriffing history lesson. The bottom line is the Son cursed that amulet you’re wearing.”
DON’T LISTEN TO HER.
“Why is that a problem?” he asks, getting defensive. 
“You don’t feel… different?”
Deny. Deny. Deny. 
“No.”
In one swift motion, you’re grabbing a dagger hidden in your boot and reaching for the cowl of his cape. You rest the flat side of the blade against the fabric, glaring into his visor. 
“So you don’t mind if I cut the chain off of you?”
Some innate instinct comes over him, the primal urge to protect what is now his. He swats the dagger from your hand, his arm looping around your neck and placing you in a headlock. His other hand reaches for the handcuffs on his belt, grabbing them and enclosing them around your wrists. 
Good. This is good.
“What the”
Leave her here.
“What’s stopping me from leaving you here?” he says, tightening the headlock.
“Be my guest. But I’ll just say this– You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into.”
“And you do?”
“Yes. I’ve been researching this for many cycles now. You leave me here? You sabotage yourself.”
His grip around your neck softens and he slowly releases you, grabbing your upper arm. 
What are you doing? I said leave her here. Stop-
“Fine, but you’re coming with me.”
He bends down and wraps his arms around your thighs, hoisting you over his shoulder. Din’s always been a strong man but everything he does feels so effortless. His senses are heightened. His reflexes are swift. He feels like he’s at his peak; the best version of himself. 
You protest, banging your fists into his back but it doesn’t matter. He’s drowning out your angry shouts and listening to the voice. 
Fine. Take her back to your ship and keep her as a prisoner.  She’s nothing but a loose end. 
He makes his way out of the underground cavern and back up to the surface, completely tuning out everything you’re saying. When you try to wiggle free he just tightens his grip, keeping you firmly pressed up against his body. 
Once he’s on the surface again, he sees what must be your ship— or what’s left of it anyway. You crash landed here. In actuality, without Din, you’d be stranded here. And he doesn’t miss the opportunity to remind you that. 
“Quit complaining,” he says, cutting off your shouts of protest, “Without me, you’d be rotting away here.”
You sigh and Din feels like he could almost hear you roll your eyes. His comment worked, though. Because for the rest of the journey back to the Razor Crest, you’re silent. Only muttering a few words under your breath as he sets you down on a crate in the storage area. 
His helmet snaps towards you. He acts like he can’t hear what you said but the truth is he did. You muttered something about how he only cursed himself in the end. 
“What was that?” he asks, crouching down in front of you. 
“You have no idea what you just did to yourself.”
“And you do?” he counters, “Why is this necklace such a big deal to you?”
“Like I said before, it's cursed.”
“Cursed how?”
“It makes the wearer immortal. But if they were to take it off, they’d die.”
Don’t listen to her. It doesn't matter. No one is taking me from you.
“Did you say… immortal?”
“Mhm.”
“But… how can that be?”
“You really don’t know anything about this? You didn’t mean to put it on?”
“No. I was sent here to track down a bounty. I was expecting a person, not a piece of jewelry.”
“Who sent you here?”
“The client was anonymous.”
You lean back against the metal wall of the Crest, eyes wide and lost in thought. Din’s had enough of your questioning, though. Who are you exactly to question him while he’s just trying to do his job and get paid?
“Who are you?” he asks. 
“Does it matter?”
“It does. Clearly, you know what this is. Were you after it for yourself?”
“No! That’s not it at all. I wanted to destroy it. I-”
She’s lying. Silence her. 
Surely the voice isn’t telling him to kill you… Right? 
Even if that’s what the voice is insinuating, he doesn’t do it. Instead, he grabs you by the arm again and hauls you to the carbonite freezer. You beg and plead for him to reconsider his actions but he doesn’t listen, drowning out your voice and following his instincts again. Soon enough, you’re encapsulated in the carbonite. Without a second thought, Din climbs the ladder to the cockpit and sets a course back to Nevarro. He sends a transmission to Karga, letting him know that he secured the “bounty” that way the mysterious droid will be back with the credits. There are only two things on his mind; collect his reward and learn more about his newfound power. 
-
Part Two: Purge the Poison
Din lands on Nevarro with adrenaline coursing through his body. This is what this treacherous journey has been leading up to– the reward. He takes one last look at you frozen in the carbonite before leaving and heading back to the Guild. He’s not sure how this is supposed to work. He doesn’t have a bounty to deliver. He just has an object, bound to his neck that he allegedly can’t take off. He should be able to collect the credits, right?
Wrong. 
The droid never returned. 
“I don’t know, Mando. The droid never came back.”
“So what am I supposed to do?” The voice is noticeably quiet for once…
“All we can do is wait. I don’t have a way to contact the client,” Karga sighs. 
Din leans back in the booth and closes his eyes. He’s not just angry– he’s enraged. But he keeps his cool, not snapping here in the Guild. 
“You know where to find me,” he says, irritation heavy in his voice. He slips out of the booth and storms out of there, heading back to the Crest where you’re waiting for him, still encased in carbonite. 
He’s filled with so much pent-up rage that he doesn’t know what to do with himself. It’s bursting at the seams. It’s threatening to bubble up over the surface. It’s about to let itself loose and out into the world. It’ll tear him apart if he doesn’t do something about it.
I know what you can do about it. 
He internally winces at what the voice is about to suggest.  
Kill someone. Kill her. 
He can’t and he shouldn’t. For the time being you’re valuable to him. You mysteriously have much information about the strange item he found on Malachor. Where did you come from? How do you know so much about this amulet? Were you lying when you said you wanted to destroy it?
Once he’s back inside the Crest he gets to work on unfreezing you. He watches as your carbonite slowly melts away, revealing your damp and shivering form. He catches you as you fall forward, keeping you upright. You’re blinking rapidly, searching your surroundings. 
“Your vision will return,” he says curtly. 
“I know,” you snap. 
He forcefully grabs you by the shoulders and drags you to a crate. He sits you down but leaves your cuffs on. He walks to his bunk and grabs his blanket, draping it around your shoulders before crouching down in front of you. 
“You’re going to tell me what you know about this,” he says, pulling the amulet out from under his flight suit but never taking it off, “And you’re going to tell me who you are.”
“I already told you what I know about it. You’re immortal until you take it off.”
“And then what? I’ll die.”
“Yup. I’ve been researching it for a long time.”
“Why? What put you onto this?”
“I’m a history professor at Coruscant University. My thesis was on the Mortis Gods which led me to the Son’s Amulet. I spent many cycles trying to figure out if it even existed and where it was hidden,” you explain, looking past his helmet. 
“What were you going to do with it once you found it?” he asks, tucking the amulet away. 
“Destroy it,” you say, meeting his visor. 
“Beat you to it.”
“I know but now you’re the one who’s screwed.”
Don’t listen to her. Think of all the untapped potential you have. 
“Whatever, mir’sheb.”
“Huh?”
“Smartass.”
“I’d rather be a smartass than a dumbass,” you retort. 
“I am not-”
“You put on a creepy haunted necklace all because the voice told you to.”
He physically feels the blood drain from his face. 
“You know about the voice?”
“Mhm.”
Silence her. 
But he can’t kill you. 
“I bet that voice is telling you to do all sorts of nefarious things,” you tease. 
His fists clench and unclench at his sides. You and your smart mouth. If only he could take out his frustration on you. If only you weren’t so valuable to him. If only there were another way to relieve his tension…
“I’d stop talking if I were you.”
“Oh yeah? What are you gonna do about it?” you counter, mouth forming into a smirk. 
“Wipe that smirk off your face,” he answers. 
“I’d like to see you try.”
You irritate the hell out of him but he can’t deny how attracted he is to you. Between the sly smirk on your face, the mischievous look in your eye, the little droplets of water beaded up on your skin, and how you don’t seem to be afraid of him even though you should be– Maker, it all makes his cock twitch with arousal. 
It’s almost like the voice takes over with the way he swiftly rises from the floor, grabs you by the waist, and throws you over his shoulder. 
“What the-” you start.
“Talk a big game, get punished,” he says nonchalantly, setting you down on his bunk. 
You open your mouth to speak but you’re at a loss for words, face to face with his massive bulge. He undoes the fly of his flight suit, his cock springing free. You stare at its intimidating size, it's rock-hard and directly in your face. It leaves you speechless. 
“Think you can handle it?” he teases. 
Maker, he wants to grab your face and shove his cock down your throat– completely fucking your face. He can tell you want it, too, from the way you ogle it with wide eyes. 
It’s not gonna suck itself. 
He hooks a hand around the back of your head and wraps the other around the base of his cock, forcefully thrusting himself in your mouth. He lets out a deep, guttural moan at the feeling of your warm, wet mouth encapsulating his cock. 
His hands move to each side of your face as he thrusts in and out. Your mouth stretches open even wider to accommodate his girth as tears spring in the corners of your eyes. 
“Not smirking now are you, mir’sheb,” he says, your tear-filled eyes locked with his underneath the helmet. 
You moan in response and he fucks your face even harder. Tears are rolling down your cheeks now and the sight has him ready to bust. With one last thrust into your mouth, he spills his cum down your throat, holding your head in place as he finishes. Once he’s done he pulls out and to his delight but your horror, he’s still hard. It’s the voice, the curse, or the amulet– whatever this is that has him so feral. 
He has to see your body, he has to feel you underneath him. But you’re still wearing your cuffs. If he takes them off will you bolt? Will you make a break for it, leaving him here with his cock still wet? 
He leans forward and unlocks your cuffs, anticipating your next move. He expects you to run but you don’t, instead you’re sitting here with a wild look in your eye. He reaches for the hem of your shirt, lifting it over your head. He pushes you down on the bunk and hooks his hand around the waistband of your pants, sliding them off along with your underwear. 
Look at her. She’s lying here so patiently, so obediently for you. Use this opportunity to claim her as your own. 
He’s not thinking. He’s following whatever the voice tells him to do. He takes off his helmet, not even thinking about the repercussions he’ll face. He’s got two things on his mind; marking up your body and being inside you already. He sets the helmet down on the floor and takes off his gloves before hovering over you on the bunk. Your eyes widen when they meet his and a shocked expression washes over your face. But why? How do you know he’s taken the creed? Surely a history professor would know that there are all sorts of Mandalorians; ones that walk both ways. It isn’t until he looks over at the small mirror he has hanging on the wall of his bunk. 
His eyes. Maker, his eyes. They’re no longer their usual shade of warm brown. His irises are a pale purple shade, eerily glowing. It startles him for a split second before his attention turns back to you, writhing underneath him. 
He brings two fingers to his mouth and moistens them, spreading your legs apart and sliding them inside you. You gasp at the sudden girth of his thick fingers expanding your walls. He curls them against your g-spot repeatedly, your pleasure continuously building. In no time, he pulls your first orgasm from you, feeling the way your cunt flutters around his fingers. Your release soaks his hand and once he feels that you’re done, he pulls his fingers from you and soaks his cock with your wetness. In one swift motion, he thrusts inside you, giving you no time to adjust to the newfound length and girth. He plants his hands by either side of your head, locking eyes with you as he fucks you relentlessly, driving his hips into you at an unforgiving pace. 
He leans forward and marks up your neck with his mouth, nipping and biting at the soft skin. He moves up and down before switching sides, licking where his teeth just marked you. You gasp and moan at the repeated pattern of biting, licking, and kissing. Once he feels his work is complete he pulls back and locks eyes with you once more. 
You fall speechless, unable to form any real words besides deep moans and mangled sobs. Tears continue to roll down your cheeks, your mouth falling open into a soft O. He’s going to cum if he keeps watching you become reduced to a complete mess underneath him. Your walls tighten up around his cock in anticipation of a big release. He feels the way your cunt grips and releases his cock rhythmically. It draws his own orgasm from him, his cock spilling his warm cum with the head nestled by your cervix. He groans while letting out a string of Mando’a curse words that he himself can barely understand, not in his blissful state. 
He pulls out and collapses on top of you, his head resting in the crook of your neck. You’re both panting against each other and once the endorphins finally settle regret sinks in. No, not because he had sex with you. Because he took his helmet off. 
His chest heaves for a moment and he does his best to hide it, not wanting to seem weak after the power he just showed you. For some strange reason, he’s worried about what you’ll think of him– you who’s so irritating, who gets under his skin like no one else. Yes, he’s worried that your perception of him will change. 
“Mando?” you ask, voice soft and concerned, “Are you okay?”
“I… I’m not supposed to do that.”
“Cum inside me?” you tease.
“No,” he says, pulling himself off of you and sitting at the foot of the bunk, “Take off my helmet.”
“Oh,” you say, sitting up and moving beside him, “Then why did you do it?”
“The voice told me to,” he says, placing his head in his hands. 
You bring your hand to the back of his neck. At first, he stiffens up, not used to the feeling of someone’s hands there. But once your hand travels up to his hair, rubbing small circles against his scalp, he relaxes. 
“You didn’t know? That the voice could make you do things you never thought possible?”
“No,” he sighs.
“You really had no idea what you were getting into, didn’t you?”
“Did you think I was lying?” he asks, turning his head and glancing at you.
“Honestly… yes.”
“I wasn’t. I was sent to Malachor for a bounty.”
“And the tracker led you to the amulet?”
“Mhm.”
“But why would someone send you there?”
“I’m not sure. I should’ve never taken it but the reward was high.”
“How much?”
“...A million credits. I know it sounds too good to be true.”
“Did you go to collect the reward yet?”
“Yeah. The client never showed up to pay.”
You fall silent for a moment, lost in thought. His eyes search your face for some sort of answer and once again, the voice is noticeably silent.
“Do you still have the tracking fob?”
He gets up and grabs it off a shelf in the storage area, sitting beside you on the bed and handing it to you. You activate it and study the mysterious absence of a bounty poster. You turn it off and hand it back to him, asking, “Was there anything else… weird about the job?”
“The client supposedly requested me specifically.”
“Strange…” you trail off.
Both of you sit in uncomfortable silence, trying to put all the pieces together.
“Why would someone want to make you immortal?” you wonder out loud.
Din’s guess is as good as anyone’s. He’s been trying and failing to wrap his head around what he got himself into.
“Mando… I think you were set up.”
“What?! By who?!” he asks, his purple eyes locking with yours again. 
“I can’t answer that…”
“...Will you help me find out who?”
You pause, looking at him with a sort of pity in your eyes. Without saying a word, he pleads with you, his strange-colored eyes begging for help, something to save him from this impossible situation he’s found himself in.
“I really don’t want to but… You did save me from being stranded on Malachor,” you sigh, “But fine. I’ll help you.”
The two of you have to start somewhere. 
-
Part Three: Legends Never Die
“If I’m going to help you, I think I deserve to know your name,” you say. 
Do not tell her. 
For once he can’t listen to the voice. This amulet, this voice told him to take off his helmet. Something he’d never do. His creed is the most important thing to him. And this… whatever it is overpowered his respect and devotion to his creed. That just won’t do. 
If he’s going to get rid of this thing, he has to learn to trust you.
“Din Djarin,” he says with a sigh. 
You tell him your name and the both of you feel like you’re finally starting somewhere. 
“What do we do now?” Din asks. 
“Well, we’ve established you were set up but we need to figure out why. What does this person have to gain from doing this to you?”
“I don’t know.”
“I know. I’m just thinking out loud.”
“You said this amulet is from one of the Mortis Gods?”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t know much about them.”
“They were just an extremely powerful family of force-wielders.”
“Where were they from?”
“Mortis.”
“Oh,” Din says, feeling kind of stupid. 
He’s not familiar with this kind of stuff— the Jedi, the Sith, the Force. As far as he’s concerned, he’s just a regular person, trying to make a living in the galaxy by bounty hunting. He didn’t piss off anyone important that he can recall. 
“Can you take me somewhere?” you ask, snapping him from his thoughts.
“Where to?”
“Coruscant. I think we need to make a little trip to the university’s library.”
He grabs his helmet off the floor and replaces it on his head. 
“Let’s go,” he says, reaching for your hand to help you out of the bunk. 
He helps you to your feet, letting you get dressed while he puts on his gloves. You follow him to the cockpit, sitting in one of the passenger seats while he prepares the Crest for takeoff. It’s silent between you two, an awkward silence. He’s unsure of what your relationship is exactly. At first, you were his prisoner. Technically, you still could be. And then he had sex with you and he feels awful about the implications in which it happened. You were handcuffed in his ship and at not only his mercy but the voice’s mercy, too. And now here you are, helping him when he’s been nothing but an asshole to you. 
Don’t think like that, the voice tells him.
He can’t listen to it now. His own guilt is louder than the voice. 
Once you’re in hyperspace he turns to you and says, “I just want to say… I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what?”
“For capturing you. For… what we did earlier.”
“You’re apologizing about the sex?” you ask with a smirk.
“I wasn’t sure if it was okay.”
“It was.”
“It was?”
“Stop overthinking it.”
“…Really?”
“You’re acting like I didn’t enjoy it.”
“You did?”
“Was it not obvious?”
“Yes. I mean no. I just…. I don’t know anymore.”
“Hey,” you say, leaning forward and grabbing his hand, “I know you have a lot going on in your head right now. And I’m sure a lot of it is confusing but I’m here to help in whatever way I can.”
“But why? Why do you want to help me even after I was so terrible to you?”
“I just… I feel bad. You had no idea what you were getting into. You didn’t deserve any of this.”
“Thank you,” he says softly. 
“Of course. But don’t get sappy on me.”
“Got it,” he says, spinning around in his seat and facing the control panel again. 
It doesn’t matter what you find, or what you research. You’re stuck with me. 
All he can do is close his eyes and try to drown out the voice. 
-
He’s walking side by side with you towards the university, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. He’s anxious about what you’re about to find. But what’s his place from here on out? Is he supposed just to drop you off and reunite with you when you’re done? However long that will be…
Standing in front of the library, he prepares to bid you goodbye, confused about why he’s got a pit in his stomach. 
“I guess I’ll see you when you’re done?” he says, mentally wincing in anticipation of your response. 
“What? Why?”
“I just assumed-”
“You can stay.”
“I can?”
“If you want. I’m not sure how long it’ll take and it might be kind of boring but… you’re more than welcome to stay here with me.”
He pauses, thinking about what you said. He’s welcome to stay but do you want him to?
“Do you want me to?”
Kriff, he didn’t mean for that to actually come out. 
“I do.”
“Okay then,” he says, walking into the library with you. 
The library is packed with students and as you walk through the aisle picking books off the shelves, they turn their heads when you pass them by. He’s used to it but for some reason this time it makes him self-conscious, as if they’re piercing into his soul and aware of the secret he’s harboring. 
After you have your collection of books you bring him to one of the study nooks in the back of the library away from all the prying eyes. He watches how your brow furrows when you’re lost in thought, scanning the pages for anything to help him out of this mess. He feels a bit useless, watching you pour yourself over book after book for hours on end while he sits and does… nothing. 
You put your elbow on the table, resting your head in your hand. As you lean to the side, your neck becomes exposed and Din’s eyes settle right on a spot that looks like the perfect place to sink his teeth…
Stop, he tells himself. 
But he fears the voice has taken over and he’s no longer looking at you with adoring eyes, but lusting ones instead. 
Take her here, now. Bend her over the table. Who cares about anyone who sees?
His cock twitches in his flight suit and he doesn’t think he can take it anymore. 
“Din?” you ask softly, setting down your book. 
“Hm?”
“Do you want to go somewhere else?”
“What do you mean? I thought you had to do research.”
“Well, yes but I can just continue researching in my office,” you say, eyes looking past Din and scanning the library. 
“Why? Are you worried about people looking at us?”
“No! No, that’s not it at all. I just wasn’t sure if you were-”
“Who cares? But if you want a little more privacy then why not?” he says, standing from his seat and gathering the books. 
He shuffles them to one arm and grabs your hand, proudly leading you out of the library without a single care in the world about who may be looking at him. 
“Where to?” he says, turning to look at you once you’re outside. 
“Across the quad in the North Tower.”
He nods and grabs you by the hand again, not caring about the people stopping to stare, many of whom are your students. You keep your eyes on Din, on the sunlight bouncing off his helmet, watching as his cape billows in the wind with his confident stride. 
He lets you take the lead once you’re inside the building, walking up a grand staircase until you arrive at your office, a large room with high vaulted ceilings and towering bookshelves. Floor-to-ceiling windows draw natural light in and a long wooden desk sits in the center of the room. He sets the book down on one of your chairs and grabs you by the waist, setting you on your desk. He grabs the waistband of your pants and practically rips them off of you. 
“So much for researching,” you say smugly, looking up at him with a grin.
“Gonna have to do something about that smart mouth of yours, mir’sheb,” he says darkly.
His hands gravitate to the bottom of his helmet. A look of realization flashes in your eyes and you reach your hands out, trying to stop him. But he’s stronger than you, grabbing your hands and forcing them by your sides. He pulls off his helmet, revealing the same matted curls and piercing purple stare. He spreads your thighs apart and kneels on the floor, face hovering over your cunt. He licks one slow stripe up your cunt before flicking his tongue around your clit. His strong arms lock around your thighs, keeping your cunt flush against his face. His eyes don’t leave yours, looking up at you as he slowly eats you out. The eye contact is intense, almost too much to bear. But when you try to look away he stops, starting to pull his face away until you look at him again. With one last swirl of his tongue around your clit, you cum against his face, thighs shaking against the desk. He laps up your release, moaning at the taste until you’re done. And now he just has to have you. 
He stands up and pulls out his cock from his flight suit, stroking it a few times before gathering some of your release with his fingers and slathering his cock with it. He reaches forward and swipes away the contents of your desk, pushing you down so you’re lying against the wood. He thrusts into you in one slow motion, staying still inside you for a moment before drawing his hips back and slamming into you repeatedly. He pulls off one glove, tossing it on the floor and bringing his thumb to your clit. One hand grips your hip while the other rubs circles around your clit. He glares down at you, his body towering over yours as he rails you against your desk. You cum around his cock, eyes locked on his once again. The sensation of your cunt gripping his cock pulls his orgasm from him, warm cum spilling inside you with a grunt. He pulls out of you and sits in your desk hair, holding his head in his hands. You scramble off the desk and reach for his helmet, kneeling in front of him and lifting his head. He looks at you with the same look in his eye like last time, like he just let himself down. You replace his helmet on his head, cupping the hollow part where his cheeks would be.
“It’s okay,” you say softly.
“I know,” he sighs, “I would just like to do… that without feeling bad.”
“About the helmet,” he quickly adds.
“I know,” you chuckle, “I’m not offended. I get it. But I can’t lie and say that the eye contact wasn’t hot.”
“It was?”
“It was. But it would be hotter if it were your choice, not the other way around.”
“Right… Thank you… for understanding.”
“Of course,” you say, rising from the floor and grabbing your pants, “But back to business.”
“Back to business,” he agrees.
-
Months go by with Din glued to your side, helping in whatever way he can with the research. You think you might have found some sort of motive behind why someone would do this to him but the question of who is still a mystery. 
“To travel to another galaxy?” Din asks.
“I think so. It’s just a theory.”
“There are other galaxies?”
“You think we’re the only one?”
“I guess not. But why?”
“That I still don’t know. And I’m just assuming about the traveling to other galaxies thing, too. The planet Mortis was said to be in a different realm.”
“Interesting…” he trails off. “How much longer do you think?”
“I’m not sure. If you think you have to get back to Nevarro, I understand.”
“I don’t want to leave you. But maybe I’ll go check the Crest for any transmissions.”
“Okay, sounds good. I’ll be here,” you say, looking up at him from your desk. 
He caresses the side of your face, his gaze lingering on you before he leaves, walking through the campus and back to the docking yard where the Razor Crest is parked. On the way there, he thinks about his time here and how one good thing came from this… you. If he’s forced to be a monster all his life, at least he has someone that understands. But then there’s the other thing… He’ll be a monster all his life, until the end of time, outliving you and anyone else he may care about. He tries not to think about that. 
Once he’s inside the ship he sees that he has a transmission from Greef Karga, which could mean one of two things; Karga’s got bounties and he’s wondering where Din is or the droid actually returned.
He presses the button for the transmission to play and listens;
“Mando! I’m not sure where you’ve been but the droid from that strange bounty returned… It didn’t bring the reward, though. It said his client will meet you where you captured the bounty in the first place. Strange request, I know. But supposedly the client will have the credits. Just be careful.”
Back to Malachor, it is. 
He bolts from the Crest, anxiously heading back to you to tell you the news. You’re where he left you, of course. 
“I have news.”
“Oh?” you ask, looking up from your book.
“I received a transmission from Karga. The droid returned. It said to meet the client on Malachor.”
“Really?”
“Yes… So what do you want to do?”
“We go to Malachor,” you say, rising from your chair.
“Let’s go,” he says, with a tip of his helmet.
As you’re sitting in the cockpit of the Razor Crest, you grab his hand as he’s preparing the ship for takeoff.
“Whatever happens… I love you, okay?”
He stops, turning to look at you, stunned by what you just said. He feels it, too, but it breaks his heart knowing that this love will end in one of two ways; he’ll outlive you or he’ll choose to take off the amulet. And both choices make him unsettled.
“I love you, too,” he says, squeezing your hand before turning to face the control panel.
This is it. Months of research have led up to this. 
-
The familiar sight of Malachor comes into view. He lands the Razor Crest by the same pyramidal stones he saw months ago. So far, no sign of anyone. Surely they’re waiting for Din in the Sith temple, ending this where it all started.
He takes you by the waist, holding you as he lowers himself down to the temple underground. He gave you a blaster before you left the Crest, turning to make sure you have it drawn before proceeding further.
As you head towards the pyramid, someone from behind you clears their throat. You both spin around, blasters drawn and ready to aim at whoever’s there. It’s a man, someone neither of you recognizes. He’s wearing all black and his hair is gray. There’s a lightsaber attached to his belt but he hasn’t drawn it… yet.
“I’ve been expecting you,” he says, glancing at Din, “It seems you brought a friend.”
“Who are you?” Din asks.
“A Sith,” you say in disgust.
“Not a Sith,” the man says, looking over at you.
“Then why did you lead us here?” Din asks.
“Din Djarin,” the man says, “Do you know the significance of that amulet you’re wearing?”
“It belonged to one of the Mortis Gods.”
“Very good. And do you know why I sent you to find it?”
“You want to use him to travel between the galaxies.”
The man looks at you again, taking a step closer.
“Clever girl,” he says, “But do you know why?”
“I know you,” you say, looking at him and the way his face is illuminated with red light from the temple behind you.
“Do you?”
“You’re… You’re Baylan Skoll.”
“Clever, clever girl. Look at the two of you, both so smart. But neither of you have answered my question… Why?”
“I don’t… I don’t know. What could you possibly be trying to find in another galaxy?” you ask.
“Mortis?” Din adds.
“So close yet so far,” Baylan tuts, “Forget about Mortis. I’m searching for Peridea.”
Din looks at you, searching for answers but the truth is… you don’t have any. 
“What do you want with Peridea?”
“To bring Grand Admiral Thrawn out of exile,” Baylan says.
“...Who?” Din asks.
“You’re funny,” you snort.
“I’m being serious. With the Mandalorian’s immortality, nothing is going to stop me.”
“Why Din?” you press.
“He doesn’t have the reputation of being the best bounty hunter in the Galaxy for no reason.”
“I can’t let you bring Thrawn back to the Galaxy,” you say, raising your blaster.
Baylan draws his lightsaber and ignites it, a vibrant orange hue emitting from the blade. Din raises his blaster, too, and a fight ensues. It doesn’t matter how much you shoot at Baylan, he just deflects all the blasts with his saber. He inches closer towards you, deflecting your blasts faster and faster as he corners you against a stone. He knows he doesn’t have to do anything to Din and he just assumes the voice will take over, forcing Din to join Baylan’s fight against you. 
Join him and kill her. Join him and kill her. Join him and kill her!!!
But Din doesn’t. 
Instead, he raises his blaster at the back of Baylan’s head. Baylan turns around, getting ready to defend himself against Din but it’s no use. With one blast to the head, Baylan falls to the ground. It turns out the urge to protect you was stronger than the voice’s pull to get him to join Baylan. 
Din rushes over to you, putting his blaster back on his hip and pulling you into his arms.
“It’s… over?” he asks, feeling your racing heartbeat.
“I think so,” you sigh. 
“But you’re stuck like this,” you say, pulling back and looking at him.
He knew it could end like this, with him living out his days without you once you pass. 
Or… There was a third option all along.
“What are you going to do?” you ask, snapping him from his thoughts.
He fiddles with the chain around his neck before saying, “Take this off when the time is right.”
You nod, leaning against him just a little bit longer before leaving the temple together, hand in hand. 
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Mando dividers/support banners by @saradika-graphics !!!
Thank you to @pedgito for beta reading, reassuring me that this was any good, and helping me plot this all out 🖤
@pedrostories
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djarins-cyare · 2 days
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WIP Wednesday!
✨Featuring: a taste of smut and a poll✨
Tagged by @beskarandblasters today (thanks Kel!) and @burntheedges literally like 4 weeks ago but I’ve been working 80-hour weeks and am really behind with interactions (so thanks Kate and sorry this is late!) 💙
They’re slightly different templates, so I’ll use the one with more detail and a poll because that’s always fun…
STEP ONE: post snippets of the fics you’re working on (can be a summary if there’s no snippet) STEP TWO: put them in a poll and let people vote on which one you should work on
There’s some NSFW content, so under the cut if you please…
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As usual, I’ve given you far more than is strictly necessary, but you can’t shut me up, so here you go…
1. From To See A Thousand Things (guns n’ angst – the winner of my last WIP poll):
“What was that word you just said? Did you call me something rude?” “Kaan’goran. It means ‘weaponsmith’ in Mando’a. I don’t know your name and that’s what you are.” Oh. He says it matter-of-factly, but you’re strangely disappointed somehow. Maybe it’s time you introduced yourself to the man you’ve been anonymously fucking for over a year. This is a night of firsts, after all. “Well, you can call me—” “Don’t,” he insists, surprising you. Your face instantly falls, wondering why the hell that’s the arbitrary line he’s drawing in the sand tonight. But he sees your dejection and sighs, offering an explanation. “In my culture, names aren’t used flippantly. They’re titles, and they’re used as such: a full name to denote one’s clan when necessary, but otherwise rarely spoken. Those individuals who have a job of high standing are referred to by their professional titles – jobs that provide for the whole tribe rather than just their individual clan. To a Mandalorian, a weaponsmith is a noble profession. You forge the implements we defend ourselves with.” Okay, that’s… weirdly sweet. Oh… no. Oh hell no. Fuck off warm fuzzy feeling that’s rising in your belly. This will not do! You furrow your brow, confused and slightly annoyed about… well, basically everything, from his intentions to your emotions. Time to clarify. “You’re... complimenting me?” “I’m… respecting you,” he counters carefully. You can’t help the small snort of amusement that makes its way unbidden through your nose at that. This is definitely a night of firsts.
2. From an unnamed lengthy oneshot (starts a little angsty but builds to fluff and a helmet reveal):
“Din?” you try. His helmet jerks slightly at his name, but he doesn’t look. You deserve more, so you demand more. “What’s wrong? Talk to me.” He shifts uncomfortably and shakes his helmet a little. Was that a response? A refusal to talk? Try being more direct. “Hey. That’s not fair. You don’t get to touch me like that and then pull away without saying why.” “That’s the problem,” he responds, voice like steel. “I know it’s not fair. I shouldn’t have touched you like that.” There’s something bitter in his tone, and it poisons the air between you. But you still don’t understand, and the ache in your chest festers higher. “I wasn’t complaining,” you try. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted you to do that?” For some reason, your hesitancy about crossing this line with him has vanished. You think he erased it when he groped your ass just now. “Yes, I know,” he snaps loudly, suddenly sounding angrier than you’ve ever heard him. “Do you know why it can’t happen?” You shake your head, too surprised at his sudden fierceness to respond verbally. Actually, you have some idea (a lot of ideas), but you’d rather hear his explanation. But you don’t get an explanation. You get a dismissal. “Then you don’t know me very well at all.” And with those acidic, modulated words, he turns his back on you and marches into the canyon.
3. From Final Sanctuary (interestingly, this was the second-lowest rated in my last WIP poll, so I’m giving you a whole little smutty section to see if that’s still the case):
He takes several bites before he remembers she wants his opinion, and he swallows and resets the helmet, glancing up at her. She’s watching him, chewing slowly with what he can only describe as a smug smile on her lips. “Good, huh?” she prompts, punctuating her question with another bite. He’s about to respond when her bite causes a bit of the white dip to ooze out of the bread and smear across the corner of her mouth. Dank farrik, his brain instantly leaps into motion and flashes a full and detailed sexual fantasy before his eyes in a matter of milliseconds. …his hard cock between her warm lips, pressing deeper into her mouth as she moans and sucks his length… She clearly feels the rogue smear of dip, but with both hands clutching the bread, she utilises her tongue to recapture it, a wanton pink delight darting out of the corner of her mouth and Din swells in his pants. …she licks and flutters around his cockhead, massaging the sensitive spot underneath and undulating it along the bottom as she sinks lower again… But the viscous white liquid has dripped farther than her tongue can reach, leaving a smear a little way down from the corner of her mouth, and he intently focuses on it. …the perfect confluence of pressure and suction brings him right to the edge of ecstasy, and he orgasms hard, filling her mouth with so much cum that it leaks and spills down her chin… Before he’s even aware he’s doing it, Din is reaching for her. He sees his hand extend across the crate between them, but he can’t stop it. She’s hunched low to reach the food, and the crate is small, so he doesn’t have to learn far, and although her eyes widen in surprise, she doesn’t flinch or pull away. His thumb only hesitates for a second before wiping up the dip, but it hovers there for longer afterwards, coated in white and unsure how to proceed. …she swallows his cum, and he wipes up what spilled out, pressing his thumb into her mouth so she doesn’t miss a drop, and her tongue eagerly licks it up… Just as he makes the rational decision to withdraw his hand, she turns her head, aligning her lips with his thumb, and a rush shoots through him… but he’s already in motion, retreating back to his side of the crate. It’s too late. Would she have done it? Licked his thumb? Dank farrik, he’s so hard over the possibility. Thankfully, he’s pretty sure that between his loose pants and the cross-legged position he’s in, nothing’s on display, plus he’s sitting close to the crate anyhow. Neither of them has spoken yet, although he’s not sure if his voice works right now. Still, he has to answer her question about the meal, so he rasps out the only word that comes to mind. “Delicious.”
I have several others, but these are the fullest, although they’re incomplete and unedited.
Feel free to send me an ask or leave a comment if you want to discuss these any further!
A few NP tags: @ceapa-mica @penvisions @papurgaatika @for-a-longlongtime @draculasfavoritewife @whxtedreams @alltheotps
I'll just get comfy and wait for the poll results...
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fettuccin-e · 5 months
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Just This Once
Kinktober Day 18: Squirting + Dacryphilia
Tags: Din Djarin x Reader, afab!fem!reader, unprotected piv (pls wrap it before you tap it irl), fingering (r!recieving), squirting, light dacryphilia, Din being feral but also emotionally stunted (w/c: 1.7K)
A/N: Guess who fell behind on Kinktober again, womp womp. I will not give up though!! I am determined to finish, so please enjoy this Din fic that I may or may not have gotten too invested in while writing it and stay tuned for some more filth coming (and cumming hahaha) soon!! (for Kinktober I have been using this list from flightlessangelwings!)
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There’s something about the coldness of space, the loneliness of it, that makes you so desperate.
When the Crest is quiet, the baby asleep, all you can feel is the vastness of the universe around you, your body cold and needy for touch. And Maker, the Mandalorian notices immediately, the way you cross and uncross your legs in the seat behind him, curling your fingers into your thighs as the stars fly past the ship. You don’t mean to be obvious, but Din always notices.
He knows how to treat you when you get like this, all needy and desperate for his touch, even when you don’t want to admit it. Din is willing to admit that you are far more than just a friend to him, but you both narrowly avoid the strength of the feelings between you both, the bond that drags you together. But still, Din knows exactly what you need, and he has absolutely no problem giving it to you.
He has you splayed across his lap, your back pressed against his chestplate, your head lolling back onto his shoulder. He’d lost his gloves the moment you’d peeled off your pants, his hands the only skin he’ll allow himself to touch you with. It’s a wonderful loophole for you, but an exercise in torture for him. He wants to feel your back pressed against his bare chest, trace his lips down your neck. Wants to feel your heartbeat against his, quick and warm and alive. 
This is the Way, he reminds himself, despite knowing, deep down, that he’s already broken something just by touching you without his gloves. But stars, how can he resist when your pretty, desperate little cunt pulses beneath his fingertips, begging for more, more, more.
He ghosts his fingers up the slick seam of your pussy, and has to hold back his own groan at the way you whine, pressing back against him as your hips twitch uncontrollably.
“Stars, you’re wet,” he grunts, pressing a thick finger into your entrance, already gaping with your need for something, anything to clutch onto. “Needed me this bad, cyar’ika?”
“‘M so- so empty, Din, fuck, it’s like,” you cut yourself off with a gasp as he starts fucking you with that one thick finger, feeling it drag across your walls. “It’s like I can’t fucking breathe without you touching me, Maker, I need it all the time, Din.” 
And it’s true. When you’d first started traveling with Din and the baby, you’d barely even noticed the loneliness. You’d been lonely your whole life, eager to escape your desolate little planet and see the stars.
But then Din had done this for the first time, when tensions had run too high, when things had gone just a little too far.
“Just this once,” he’d muttered, “Can I touch you?” he’d asked, and you’d said yes without a thought.
He’d peeled off his glove, touching your face gently, so gently with those calloused fingers. He’d laid you out on his small mattress, pressing the front of his helmet to your forehead as he let his hand roam the expanse of your body, squeezing your skin over your clothes before brushing them over your clit through your pants. When you’d jerked up and moaned, he could only let out a shaky exhale through his visor as he rubbed tight circles into it, enraptured by the way you whimpered and squirmed beneath him.
“Just once,” he kept muttering, even as he worked one, two orgasms out of your body, “just once.”
Except it happened again. And again. And again.
And now you can barely sleep without wanting, needing Din to touch you. He hasn’t fucked you; there’s an unspoken rule that he’s broken enough of the Creed for you, telling you his name, touching you like he does. You don’t question it, not when you’re the one getting fucked on his fingers until you’re in tears, ravenous for his hands on your body.
It’s like it gets worse as time goes on, your need for him. Even now, pressed against his chest as his thick thighs spread you wide for his hands, it’s like the first time. You writhe against him as he works another finger into your hot cunt, your slick covering his hand. You hump forward into them without meaning to, and you turn your head to tuck it into his cowl as he works you over.
Din fucks his fingers furiously into you, using his other arm to brace across your hips, keeping you pinned to him. He’s practically growling as he pumps his hand between your legs, crooking his fingers up to press against the spot that makes you cry so beautiful for him. He keeps his fingers pressed deep for a moment, just grinding the tips of them into that spot relentlessly and relishing in the way you cry his name so prettily.
“Din, please- oh fuck! Stars, it’s too much, it’s too much oh my- ah-” you wine, feeling tears start to build in your eyes as you edge dangerously close to that peak you need so bad.
“C’mon, mesh’la, let go for me, squeeze my fingers with this little cunt,” he growls, and fuck, you can’t even breathe as you let him work you over, making you cum so hard that you can’t do anything but gasp for air.
And Din can’t fucking take it anymore.
“Fuck, I-” you hear him say, and you turn your head to look at him, even as aftershocks wrack your body, even as his fingers stay buried inside.
“What, Din?” you whisper, and Din nearly curses at the sight of you. Your lashes are wet with tears, stars, why do you have to look at him like that? It wears at his carefully honed control, and fuck, he can practically feel it snap at the sight of you, as the feeling of you.
“Can I fuck you?” he rasps, and you hear him suck in a breath, “please let me fuck you.” You can't hold back the keening whine that leaves your mouth, and Din shivers behind you at the sound of it.
“Please,” you breathe, and Din pulls his fingers out of you without missing a beat, reaching behind you, between your bodies to pull his cock out of his pants haphazardly. You feel the hardness of it press against your lower back, and resist the urge to look. You don’t want to cross any more lines than he’s given you.
“Just this once,” he mutters, pulling your hips back over him, notching the thick head of his cock to your entrance. “Just need to feel you, once, fuck, just once,” and he pulls you down, down, letting his cock stretch you so wide, so perfect.
Months in space, just weeks of having Din touch you, stars, it’s nothing compared to this. You eyes roll to the back of your head as he settles deep inside, so fucking deep that it makes your toes curl.
“Dank farrik, that’s fucking tight-” he grunts, the hot, wet heat of your cunt pulsing around him almost making him fill you up right then and there. He bites his tongue, praying to the Maker that the pain stops him from ending this far too fucking soon.
He uses his hard, strong grip on your hips to roll you into him, grinding you down hard onto his cock. You can only take it as he punches his hips up in aborted, desperate little thrusts that grind into your sweet spot.
“Fuck, Din, it’s so big, I can’t-” you whine, but Din only growls beneath his visor, fucking up into you harder, and your head falls back onto his shoulder plate at the feeling of it. It’s so perfect, it’s everything you’ve needed, stars, how will you survive without him filling you up like this?
“Give me another one, cyare,” he mutters, and he uses one of his hands to bring his fingers to your clit, just like he did that first night. Except this time, his cock is inside you, spreading you so wide and pressing up into your g-spot with every fucking thrust in. You gasp for air, little whines punching out of your throat every time Din shoves in all the way. 
He’s a violent man, always has been, and fucking you is no exception. He fucks you like he hunts: fast, rough, fucking monstrous. Tears finally start to pour down your cheeks, and you hiccup through your moans.
“Look at you,” he rasps, “sobbing on my cock like the needy whore you are.” He doesn’t know what’s happened to him, he’s never talked like this, let alone to you. But stars, the way you moan for him has his head spinning, has words pouring out of his mouth like they’ve been trapped there all this time. “Mesh’la, squeezing me so perfect, never want to leave this perfect cunt.”
“Din, fuck, Din, I’m gonna- stars, I’m gonna-” you gasp, your hands scrabbling at the one hand he has rubbing at your swollen clit.
“C’mon, c’mon, let me feel it, need to fucking feel it-” he mutters, and oh-
You’re pretty sure you scream as you cum, but it’s hard to hear it over the ringing in your ears as you thrash in Din’s lap. You can feel him still inside you, his horrible fingers still rubbing dexterous circles into your clit as he floods your cunt with his cum. Your orgasm feels fucking endless, your thighs trying to close but still held wide by Din’s between them. 
When you finally start to hear again, the blurriness fading from your vision, you can hear Din behind you, muttering, “fuck, so beautiful, didn’t- didn’t know you could do that.”
“Do- do what?” you slur, still groggy, but as you look in front of yourself, you can see the mess you’ve made. You’d fucking squirted, your wetness drenching his thighs and the floor of the hull. The sight makes your head spin, and you hide your face in his cowl as he wraps his arms around you, hugging you close to him. The coolness of his armor is soothing to your overly-heated body.
“So good, you did so good for me, cyar’ika,” he mumbles beneath the visor. “So pretty, can’t believe- you looked so beautiful.”
You let yourself relax into his hold, and he doesn’t let you go. “Didn’t know I could do that either,” you mumble, sleep already weighing down your eyelids, exhaustion flooding your body. “We’ll have to try again later,” you mumble. “Don’t think once is enough.”
“It will never be enough,” you hear him whisper, “not with you.”
1K notes · View notes
bits-and-babs · 1 year
Note
I imagine Mando is a virgin, do to his cult/religion.
What if fem/afab reader is Mando's partner on something and Din finds himself staring at their ass, their face, anything.
Reader notices and decides to lead Din through his first time?
𝐏𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐊𝐀𝐑 — 𝐃𝐈𝐍 𝐃𝐉𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐍
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» PAIRING : The Mandalorian x F!Reader
» CONTENTS : exhibitionism, masturbation, p in v sex, unprotected sex (I can hear you all screaming from here, I KNOW), cute, shy Mando. 18+ you N A S T I E S.
» DIN MASTERLIST : here || MAIN MASTERLIST : here
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It’s so fucking quiet on the Razor Crest.
The Mandalorian had been suspiciously silent for the majority of your trip to Theed— made even worse by the knowledge that it was such a long journey. He had spent most of his time in the cockpit of the ship, pretending to be preoccupied with the coordinates that he hadn’t changed since setting off.
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You didn’t think anything of it at first. The long drags of The Mandalorian's eyes that you could feel pull across your form, settling on your ass like a tractor beam had them glued to you. Of course, you’d just explained it away with exhaustion. For a moment, you even considered that you’d been afflicted with Hyper-Rapture, imagining things that weren’t there, inventing the gaze you felt skirting over your form.
No, you don’t think anything of it at all. Not until you walk into the cockpit of the Razor Crest one evening to find The Mandalorian thrusting into his palm and quietly whimpering out your name.
Mando hadn’t seen you, spilling into his palm and wheezing as though he’d been shot by a blaster in the side. His cum had run down the knuckles of his fingers, the two-tone gloves he consistently wore hanging off the controls.
Stars, you couldn’t shake the image from your minds-eye, nor could you ignore the echo of your whimpered name when you close your eyes at night.
It’s late. Mando has managed to settle the rambunctious Child into his cot, gently laying him amongst the blankets and closing the lid. It hisses softly, the mechanics locking with a quiet ‘click’.
You can hear his boots clang across the durasteel flooring, each footstep pronounced. Heat swallows your face as you stare at the Aurebesh lettering in your book, the lines all blurring into one when you feel him approach you.
Your name rings in your ears.
“He’s asleep,” Mando speaks softly, his husky tone soothing in its quiet volume. Looking up at him through your lashes, you carefully close the book you had pretended to preoccupy yourself with. Mando’s visor stares down at you blankly, an immovable object that makes your hands shake when you reach for him.
“… That’s perfect,” you whisper, voice cracking slightly when your palms touch the flight suit beneath the lip of his breastplate. You can feel his body flinch, his hip bones soft beneath the canvas.
“H-Hey,” he says cautiously, shocked by the sudden contact. You rub gentle circles with your thumb, chewing on the inside of your cheek in an attempt to ease your thumping heart.
“I heard you,” you break it to him gently, watching his body stiffen at your admission, “Why did you hide it from me?”
Mando doesn’t respond, your touch having stolen the breath from his lungs. He shudders, his cock hard already beneath the fabric of his suit. You see it twitch, responsive to your light touch.
You smile to yourself, careful as you unclip his utility belt.
“I can give you what you want?”
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You insist upon fucking him in the pilot seat. Mando implores you to allow him to keep his armour on. Of course, you concede. This is outside of his comfort zone; he would want to cling to what makes him comfortable.
Straddling his lap, you feel the sting of cold from his tassets bite into the naked flesh of your thighs. The head of his cock rests against your clit, and your muscles buzz with a mixture of arousal and anticipation. You’re drunk on it, high on it.
“I haven’t-“ Mando speaks, his voice catching in his throat when you dip his cock through your soaking folds. It’s like he short circuits, choking on a thick syllable.
“Mhm?” You hum softly. You’ve taken control, your experience making it easier for Mando to relax into you. He leans forward, pressing the cold Beskar of his helmet against your collarbone.
“I haven’t… Done this,” he admits to you, his tone reserved- shy. Mando’s breath hitches in his chest when you settle the head of his cock against your entrance. He sinks inside you ever so slightly, a groan rattling his lungs at the promise of tight, wet heat.
“I know,” you whisper softly, easing down onto his length as you soothe him. Mando’s back arches against the leather of the pilot seat, a choked moan of your name escaping him— not unlike the ones you heard when you caught him fucking his hand.
You don’t move, your walls fluttering around the stretch of him in your cunt. Mando is choking back curses, his hands gripping the curve of your ass and burying his fingertips into the soft flesh there.
“Oh, fu-ughh- so tight-'' he rambles, pitchy in tone as you bury him to the hilt. He’s touching the deepest parts of you, so thick and long that you’re sure you can feel him settle amongst your lungs.
It’s immediately apparent that Mando won’t last long. His thighs are trembling, cock twitching inside you despite your lack of movement. You don’t mind. This isn’t about you.
“Does it feel good?” You check in with him, smoothing your palms down the reflective surface of his breastplate. Your body heat is so high that the chilled metal clouds with condensation the moment your skin rests against it.
“So fucking tight- Maker-“ he gasps in response to you squeezing around him. “I’m-I’m gonna cum-“
Delicately, you lean your head down to press a kiss to the slither of skin exposed between the neckline of his flight suit and his helmet. You follow it up with a long, slow drag of your tongue.
Mando cums with a haggard groan, his whole body shuddering with the intensity of it. His head drops back against the headrest of the seat, chest heaving as he sucks in laboured breaths. Your flesh aches slightly from the tight grip he holds.
“S-Stars-“
It makes you smile, because you’re sure he sees them dancing behind his eyelids.
END
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4K notes · View notes
endlessthxxghts · 15 days
Text
Solace
Din Djarin/The Mandalorian x afab!reader || W/C: 4.3k
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Summary: You help Din release his frustrations after he comes back from a weeklong hunt.
Content/Warnings: Canon divergent around season 3 (no Grogu here; one tiny reference to Living Waters). Reader is able-bodied, but there are no specific physical descriptions. Pet names for both reader and Din (fem pet names for reader). Implied established relationship (you've seen his face and call him Din) - THEY'RE IN LOVE. Reader knows a bit of Mando'a. Helmet comes off. 18+ MDNI. This is 100% porn. Boot riding...blanket..riding...(there's a lot of riding lolz). Multiple orgasms. Cunnilingus. Din is a talker when his mouth isn't occupied. Blow job/face fucking. Unprotected P in V sex. Reader is on whatever form of birth control they have in space LMAO, so #twinkie time😋. Hints of a breeding kink. Praise kink (lots of it). Switch BDSM dynamics. Soft Dom!Din along with subby/desperate!Din. Sub!Reader and soft Dom!Reader. Please let me know if I missed anything! Xx
A/N: First picture was made by @djarin-desires, and honestly, this whole oneshot was inspired by this post they made! I literally could not stop thinking about these pictures all day, so I just had to write my ✨thots✨ down. I hope you enjoy!! Other two photos are found on Pinterest - middle does not represent anything about reader’s physical appearance.
MASTERLIST || FIC NOTIFS BLOG
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“Oh, shit-” you gasp. “Din, please,” eyes rolling back in pleasure, your body shivering in its nakedness compared to his fully armored form. 
“What is it, sweet girl?” he coos, his fingers caressing your cheekbone, pushing the hair from your eyes. 
“Need- stars- need more,” you cry out, your current situation proving to only bring you to the edge, but not carry you off of it. 
“One more like this, cyar’ika, then I’ll give you what you want,” Din reassures you, his leather-clad thumb running across your bottom lip, hooking himself in your mouth for you to make a mess of. “I wanna see that boot soaked, you hear me?”
Din always gets like this when he comes back from a weeklong bounty hunt. He gets hard. Dominating. In need of control. To take back the situation that got out of hand. 
You were sitting on the ground cleaning one of his blasters when he came in. He was tense. Weirdly quiet. He’s always quiet, but not with you, not for a few years now. He threw the bounty into the carbon and froze him, his chest plate rising with every breath. You knew him well enough now to know when he’s seething, and this was it. 
“Din?” you called out softly. 
He just points his helmet at you, the visor staring you down. 
“Everything okay?”
“What do you think?” He responds rather harshly.
“...Din,” you whisper, feeling every ounce of anger in those four words.
You like how it ends in these situations, though. It always ends with him a whimpering mess beneath you. There’s usually some kind of switch. He takes a third orgasm out of you, and always on the third, he becomes needy. Desperate. He just wants to be inside of you. To be balls deep and stay there, to release all of his tension while being wrapped up in you. 
You’re his solace. His warmth. His home. He always needs you. But right now, he needs his control back, so even though it’s you who’s in control by the end of the night, you stay prettily on your knees and obey dutifully. 
“I hear you, Din,” you struggle to get out with his thumb holding your tongue down, drool spilling from the corners of your mouth. 
Your thighs are on fire from your constant back and forth motion, the squelch of your slick rubbing across his shoe sending blood straight to his groin. He can feel himself itching to make you rise, to spread your legs and split you open until he can’t hold himself up anymore. But he knows you’re close even though you whine and plea for more. He knows your tells—the way your eyes struggle to stay open, the sweat beading at your temples, the way you slowly start to clamp down harder and harder on his thumb. His personal favorite, though, he discovered in this new position, is the way you start hugging tighter onto his leg, your chest rubbing against his thigh plate in an attempt to cool yourself off, but you’re just so close, the cool beskar doing nothing to ease the heat. 
“Just like that, pretty girl, come on,” Din groans, the sight before him truly testing his strength. You two have done many things together, but this? This is something new, and Din isn’t sure how long he can last. “I know you can give me one more, baby. Just one more, and then I get to feel you, come on,” he pleads, voice bubbling up into a whine. 
Oh, he’s starting to break, already? 
The thought is what sends you over, your hips stuttering in their rhythm as your arousal pours out of you, your clit shooting a sharp sensation up your spine at the sensitivity. “Dank farrik, you’re so damn gorgeous when you cum all over me, baby, so so gorgeous,” he pulls his thumb out and spreads your drool across your mouth, cradling your cheek softly in his palm as you shake in his grasp.
“Oh, fuck- oh yes, yesyesyes, Din,” you sob, head falling back between your shoulder blades. 
“Oh, my sweet girl, Maker, you’re so beautiful,” he coos, leaning down to let the forehead of his helmet rest against yours, your hot breath fogging his visor. He smiles to himself as his vision blurs momentarily. 
Din’s hands situate themselves beneath your armpits, pulling you up to your feet and supporting you as you allow your limp legs to gain their strength again. “Can I taste you, cyar’ika?” He asks as he wraps his arms around your waist, guiding you to sit on the armory crate in the corner of the hull. 
“Thought you said you wanted to feel me?” you retort, a small smirk forming on your flushed face. 
“Yeah,” he says as he drops down to his knees. “My tongue goes first.” Even with his helmet on, you can still hear the shit-eating grin with his comment. 
Din reaches for his helmet, the hiss of air signifying it’s about to come off never fails to cause butterflies to erupt in your belly. The minute his chocolate brown eyes meet yours, your heart grows two sizes greater. Your hands reach for his face. “There’s my pretty boy,” you whisper. 
His heart nearly jumps out of his chest at your words. He turns his head to kiss your palm. “My pretty girl,” he responds, bashful. “Lean back, baby.” You lay yourself back, body resting against the metal wall as his hands settle underneath you. 
Din brings himself forward, the flat of his tongue starting at the bottom of you and licking upwards—slowly, thoughtfully, calculated. He takes his time moving through your soaked folds, as if he’s mapping it out for the first time even though he’s mapped your body more times than the amount of bounties under his belt. 
The way you moan under his touch has him groaning into you, his fingers tightening their hold, his face more flush against you. He can’t get enough. His licks turn less controlled and more hungry; he uses his lips to help rub the surrounding area as he suckles every part of you he can, drinking you in, bathing in your slick as if to reclaim himself, as he did not too long ago in the Living Waters of Mandalore. His nose nudges your sensitivity as his tongue claims your entrance, the softness of your walls dancing with the softness of his tongue makes you breathless. 
Your fingers find their way into his curls, grabbing on in an attempt to ground yourself, to keep your soul beside him as he brings you to the brink of ecstasy for the fourth time since he’s been back. You whimper in distaste as his tongue leaves your hole, but the disappointment is quickly replaced by a whimper of desperation when his mouth wraps around your throbbing bud and he sucks. “Just- oh, fuck, Din- just like that,” you let out, your hips involuntarily lifting to buck into his face.
He’s quick to bring his mouth back down to your entrance, licking up every drop of the sweet nectar you always keep him full with. His nose massages your bundle as he drinks from you, and the action prolongs your climax and syrupy moans; Din works to pull as much as he possibly can from you. It’s been a week of rations and shitty meals he can sneak. So when such a delicacy is placed before him, solely for his taking, oh, he’s not going to waste a single drop. 
By the time he’s satisfied, the bottom half of his face is covered in your shine, the armory crate’s ledge is soaked, and you’re completely blissed out—face flushed and sweaty, tired eyes, a weak smile… to the average eye, you appear properly satiated. Although, Din knows that you are far from it.
“You alright, sweet girl?” Din asks, rising to his full height again. He brings his hand out for you to take, pulling you up to stand. Delaying your answer, you wrap your hands around his neck and pull him in for a messy, open-mouthed kiss, all tongue with your flavor embedded in each and every one of his taste buds. You moan into the kiss, pulling away with a bite to his plump bottom lip. “Perfect, baby,” you smile, pulling him to the makeshift bed—a pile of blankets—in the hull that you two sleep in. 
You drop yourself down onto your knees, beginning to work his armor off from his legs as he starts on his shoulders. With you helping, he’s down to his flight suit in no time, and your mouth salivates at the sight. As soon as the last clink of the precious metal leaves his body, you’re leaning your face into him, into his bulge, pressing sweet little kisses to its covered form. You can hear Din’s breath hitch, his cock twitching under your touch. “Need you in my mouth, Din,” you say as you look up at him, his eyes already hooded over at the sight of your mouth near his length. “My turn to taste you, huh, pretty boy?” You ask in a teasing tone, his face too hot to register that you’re waiting for a response from him. 
He finally registers the question when your hand dips into his bottoms, his hardness meeting your hand eagerly. You look at him expectantly. 
Although technically it’s his cock’s turn to feel you, he cannot bring himself to deny you or your skillful mouth. He cannot bring himself to deny anything you want, really. “Y-yeah- yes, baby, your turn,” he says shakily, the anticipation putting his body into sensitivity overdrive. 
He helps rip the rest of his flight suit off, and without giving him a second to breathe, you’re already spitting in your palm and working the length of him the way you know he loves. You use your mouth in tandem, your tongue licking from his base to his tip, and instantly, a loud whimper comes from the back of Din’s throat at this particular touch. 
You’re delighted by his reaction, so you repeat the motion a few more times to pull more of those sweet sounds out. “My baby is so sensitive here, isn’t he?” You pump him with your hand as you speak, placing a wet kiss to his tip when the foreskin pulls back to expose it. 
“Kriff…” he moans, his head suddenly too heavy to maintain upright. “Mesh’la, please,” Din begs. 
With one more kiss to the tip, you stop your hand’s movement completely. “Please what, baby? Use those words, honey,” you look up at him, eyes wide and full of promises to please—as soon as he vocalizes what he wants. 
His chest is heaving already at the sight of you, on your knees and looking up at him again, yet this time around, you’re the one calling the shots. 
He prefers it this way, he thinks. Sure, he comes back from a particularly frustrating hunt and ends up taking his stress out on you. Sure, it’s the most beautiful sight seeing you so worked up and at his mercy. But he is always the one in the driver seat—calculating everyone’s every turn, every action before they even have the chance to act. Din’s mind is always active, always alert. Yet, when you have him like this, in this yielding state, it’s like his mind gets to be quiet. With you, under your touch and under your gaze, Din is able to exist in your presence without a worry. He’s finally able to just be. Not a bounty hunter, not the big and tough Mandalorian everyone fears. No, he’s Din. Your Din. Your sweet boy. Yours. And that’s the greatest honor to ever bestow upon him. At least, that’s how he sees it anyway. 
“Y-your mouth, mesh’la, p-please,” he says softly. Your eyebrow quirks up. You want just a little bit more. “Want your- need your mouth on me, baby, please,” he breathes out, attempting and failing to ease the neediness in his voice. 
You hum triumphantly before you begin pumping him again, your hand focusing on his base while your mouth lavishes his leaking head. You swirl your tongue around, the salty flavor of him quick to override your senses, and Din lets out a strangled moan, his hips softly bucking in your grasp. 
Your hand releases him, letting your mouth take full control. You grab onto his thick thighs for stability, breathing through your nose as you let the tip of him reach as far back as you can handle. He gasps when he hits the back of your throat, the twitch of his body triggering your gag reflex, your throat tightening in on where he’s most sensitive. “Oh, fuck,” he grunts, fighting his hips to stay in place and let you do your thing. 
You garble something incoherent, humming into his cock as you pull yourself on and off of him a few more times. Pulling back for a small breather, you use your finger to collect up the spit-arousal mixture from the sides of your mouth and pump it on his erection, his hips twitching once again at your ministrations. 
You know what he really wants right now, but with his head in cloud nine, you know he’ll never ask for it himself. “You wanna fuck my mouth, Din?” You ask bluntly. 
His entire face and chest turn red faster than the speed of light. He sputters in his response. “I- oh my Maker, mesh’la, is that- are- are you sure? I-”
You cut him off by leaning in to kiss his thigh. He softens in your touch. “Din, pretty boy, it’s a yes or no. One word. Choose.” 
“Yes,” he replies, not a single hesitation in sight. 
“Good boy,” you purr. “See what happens when you say what you want from me?”
You shift yourself to a more comfortable position sitting on your haunches, fluffing the blankets underneath you to soften the ache of the metal floor. You look up to Din who’s watching you eagerly but with a softness that tells you to take all your time in the world. Doing this isn’t just for him, though. Letting him take control of you here turns you on just as much as it does him, maybe even more. 
You take one more glance into his thirsty eyes, and, well, okay… maybe he enjoys this slightly more. Nonetheless, you don’t take your time because you can feel the butterflies in your core beginning to flap once again as Din brings himself closer to you, lining himself up with your mouth.
“Don’t waste this opportunity, Djarin. Better use me good, yeah?” You tease, leaning your head back slightly as you stick your salivating tongue flat out, waiting for him to enter. 
His entire body shivers at your words. “Yes, ma’am,” he says under his breath, focusing on easing himself into your mouth as steady as possible, trying to maintain some ounce of self-restraint he’s inevitably going to lose. 
Once his tip is in your mouth, his hands find their home rooted at the base of your air, his thumb reaching forward to caress the apple of your cheeks. He doesn’t move at first, apprehensive in the case he might hurt you. He’s always like this at the beginning, and every single time, you reassure him it’s okay. 
You let out a muffled mhm, his signal to keep going. Din’s fingers flex, guiding your head further in as his hips slowly meet you halfway. He’s holding his breath, you can tell in the way his belly twitches. But the moment your swallow reflex triggers around him, he’s gone. “Oh, shit-” he moans ragged, his hips never fully retreating before he’s bucking into you again. “Oh, sweet girl, fuck-” he gasps. “Always so perfect, feel so perfect around me, stars, baby-” he praises, his hips moving at a comfortable, steady pace now. 
You moan around him, eyes rolling back at how good and heavy he feels coasting the expanse of your tongue. Your spit drips further down your chin and neck with each thrust, the messiness of it all mirroring itself between your thighs. Your hands leave the expanse of your thighs and reach for the blankets underneath you. As best as you can, you shuffle them in between you, using it to grind your hips on it, giving you a much needed relief. The material catches on your clit deliciously, pulling a muffled gasp from your throat, sending the sensation up Din’s spine. 
“Oh, fuck, look at you,” he groans, his eyes fighting to stay open at the raw pleasure coursing through his veins as he starts thrusting into you harder, faster. “So pretty, baby, fuck- thank you, pretty girl,” he rambles. “Maker, you feel so damn good.” 
Your moans and whines don’t stop, they reverberate off each metal wall and into his ears, providing him with the sweetest song. Din, ever the talker, is long lost in the way you feel and the way you move. 
“Keep moving those hips, sweet girl, rub that pretty pussy on our blankets, baby.” 
“Gonna cum like that again, baby? Gonna make a mess where we sleep?” 
“Shit, gonna make me lick it up and clean it? Please make me clean it, baby,” he whines, his hips’ beginning to falter. 
The last thing he says to you is what sends you over the edge, your fingers gripping the blankets below you, bringing it flush against your core as if it were Din’s curls you’re hanging onto. Your hips speed up, chasing the orgasm that is just right there, and with one last thrust forward, you’re cumming. You’re breathing heavily through your nose, tears streaming down your face as you whimper around his dick, begging for the one thing you know he’s not gonna give you. 
With a few more thrusts, you can feel his cock start to twitch, and just as you suspected, he pulls out of you before he can finish. 
“Baby, no,” you cry, leaning yourself forward, chasing after him. Right away, he’s dropping down to his knees, hands still on either side of your face as he’s finally eye level with you. 
“Baby, cyar’ika, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please,” he repents, his chest rising and falling heavily, still out of breath from edging himself. “I just- I didn’t- I… I wanted to cum somewhere else, baby,” his voice falls quieter, shyer. 
Your scowl fades, forming into a more mischievous demeanor, more hungry. You can’t quite argue his reasoning. Because, you, too, would very much like him to finish… elsewhere. “Yeah, baby?” You taunt. “And where do you wanna cum, sweet boy?”
He swallows thickly, his needy eyes on yours, blacked with a ferality he’s addicted to. “In- inside,” he whispers. 
“Inside?” you’re quick to repeat. “Wanna cum inside me, sweet boy? Fill me up? I’ve made so many messes today, is it your turn to make one, baby?”
He leans in to meet your kiss, but you pull away slightly. Answer me, your face tells him. 
“Y-yeah- yes, stars, yes- fuck- please, baby, I wanna cum inside you, wanna make a mess of you so fucking bad, please-” he starts to answer. Satisfied, you cut him off with your lips on his.
You wrap your arms around his neck, lips never breaking the seal, you pull him over you as you lay yourself down on your guys’ bed, scooting farther up for your head to reach a pillow, your back barely missing your puddle of arousal. Din multitasks, grabbing one of the other near pillows and placing it underneath your hips as your body lands on the ground. Your legs are already hooked onto his waist, not giving him the space to stray too far. 
Once you’re settled, Din’s hand is cradling the back of your head while the other reaches for his cock, covered in your wetness and leaking with his own arousal. He guides himself to you, running his tip along your slick folds, stopping to tap on your clit before bringing himself back down to your entrance. He breaks the kiss when he does this, his eyes laser focused on where you two connect. His hand on the back of your head pushes to angle you down, so you can watch, too, both of you observing and listening to the lewdness of it all. 
Finally, his head catches at your entrance, pushing himself in slowly. He’s always a stretch, always something you’ll never quite really get used to, but you love the feeling. Obsessed, even. There are some days where you rile him up on purpose just so he gives it to you, no preparation or foreplay. On those days, he has you screaming, your fingernails digging deep into his back to tether yourself to reality in some kind of way. On his softer days, you have to beg him to, reassure him that it doesn’t hurt—in a bad way. 
As soon as he’s seated all the way to the hilt, he pulls back out entirely before he thrusts back in. You both moan out at the action, your pussy immediately releasing a fresh new wave of arousal around him. “Oh, fuck,” you both mutter at the same time, your eyes meet, and a euphoric smile graces each of your faces. 
“Y-you feel so good, baby, s-so fucking big,” you mewl, your hands tightening their hold around his neck, both the tips of your noses kissing each other. 
“It’s like you were made- fuck-” he stutters, his hips slowing for a brief moment, allowing himself to really feel you. “It’s like I was made for you,” he corrects himself. “I was made for you,” he says again, leaning in to slot his lips against yours.
“Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum,” you say against his lips. I love you. “And I was made for you,” you squeak out, your head bobbing back and forth as the pleasure brings your mind further and further into space. 
“Shit, mesh’la,” he grits between his teeth. His hips speed up at that, loving the way his native tongue sounds on yours. “Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum,” he repeats back to you. “I’m yours, cyar’ika. Yours,” he murmurs, his head crashing into the crook of your neck and shoulder, sucking and biting at the sweaty flesh. 
He sits up on his haunches for a second, hooking the crook of his elbows into your knees before leaning back over you—the angle allowing him to hit so deep and allowing his pubic area to stimulate your pulsing nerve with every thrust in—you scream out as he repeatedly makes you feel things that no one has ever been able to do, not even yourself. 
“Din,” you keen, his name leaving your mouth like a sinful prayer. “Din, baby, please, I think I’m gonna- fuck-”
“Gonna cum again for me, pretty girl?” He smirks. “Fuck, I’m never gonna stop saying this- you’re so fucking perfect. Come on, baby, cum for me, fucking soak me. Soak me before I make you fucking overflow with me, my sweet girl,” he snarls, his lips meeting yours in a bruising kiss, truly a dance of tongue and spit as he fucks into you at the same pace that brought you to yet another climax. 
Your hands yank on his fluffy curls, back arching into his body as much as this restricting angle allows you to. “Din, oh my-! Fuck- so fucking good, fuck-” you wail out, your heart beating out of your chest as your pussy pulses around his cock, making an utter mess between your two lower halves. 
The flutter of you and the instant wetness consuming him is what sends Din to his finish line. He continues thrusting, shakily, through his own orgasm, his load coating every inch of you, both inside and out. You wanted a mess, so he truly gave you a mess. 
He releases the hold on your legs to wrap his arms around you, his entire body flush against yours as your legs wrap themselves tightly around him again. He’s still inside you, his hips softly still moving in and out as he leaves kisses all along your lips, your jawline, your neck. 
The way you feel, full of him and him, has your hips meeting his small advances, both of you reveling in the aftershock of your highs as you use the pleasure to ease you back down. 
“You okay, mesh’la?” Din asks eventually when you both come to an exhausted, satiated halt. 
“Perfect, my sweet boy,” you smile, repeating your sentiment from earlier. “You okay, though?” You ask hesitantly, and not about what you two just did together. He brings his lips to yours. Soft, and not in a way to arouse you again. In a way that says thank you and I love you in a way spoken tongue will never be able to convey.
“I will be,” he answers truthfully. “Pick a planet, you can pick me apart after we get food.”
“Sounds like a deal, baby.”
“Come, let’s get cleaned up.” He kisses your forehead before he untangles himself and pulls you up to your feet as well, both of you making your way to the refresher. 
In the corner of his eye, he sees his now semi-shiny boot, starting to dry off in the midst of everything else you two did. He smirks to himself. 
You catch it, of course. “What’re you smiling at, Djarin?”
“Nothing,” he says nonchalantly. “Just… I clean my armor and boots after every bounty.”
“And?” You ask, still not realizing where he’s headed. 
“I don’t know if I wanna clean my boots anymore.”
Your eyebrows raise to the middle of your forehead, eyes bulging out of your face. “Din!” you slap his chest. Then, your face goes stern. “You will be cleaning those boots more often if you want me to do that again."
Oh. 
“Yes, ma’am.”
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End notes:
Thank you so much for reading, I really hope you guys enjoyed this one! Please let me know what you guys think, I really love hearing your guys’ reactions and feedback!🫶
Also, did y’all clock how many orgasms reader had in this damn thing?! Coochie of fucking steel fr 😭😭
Moon divider by @saradika-graphics ��
@pedrostories
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buckyhoney · 1 year
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pedrito-friskito · 1 year
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hey kay bb!! hope you're doing well 💖
mando has been on the brain lately so i'm requesting fluffy smut with him pls 🥺😫 (the yearning is *extra* today)
niiiiiiiiik my darling my dear hope you are also well 💗
ok…this got away from me. I blinked and suddenly a plot! exposition! SMUT! (multiple scenes at that) all the things. I’m a slut for Din Djarin and it really jumped out on this one.
(smut below the cut, a full plot, the helmet comes off, a bit of inexperienced!din, reader is kind of a bad ass, descriptions of bodies, unprotected p-in-v sex - wrap ur shit even if ur in space ok)
sleepover saturday
uncharted territory
(word count 9.1k - it REALLY got away from me okay)
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gif by @aceofwhump
Then you are a Mandalorian no more.
Din Djarin aches in a way he has never felt before, much more powerful than any injury he could ever sustain. His Creed, demolished. His son, gone. His life, upended. As he staggers out of the Covert, trying to think of where to go next, he cannot shake the feeling of lost that settles around his shoulders like a cloak.
Maybe coming to Glavis was a mistake; maybe he should have stayed back on Nevarro, kept taking jobs from Karga until he finally had enough credits to take the old man’s advice, get himself a camtono full of spice and disappear into the Twi’lek healing baths until he forgot the whole thing.
The truth of it? He knew he could never forget. There wasn’t enough spice in the galaxy to help him forget it all. It wasn’t possible. And the larger part was that Din didn’t want to forget.
His leg aches as he walks. The bacta Paz had sprayed him down with had helped some, but the ache runs deep, and the drills the Armourer had forced him to run with the Darksaber had only made matters worse. He should find a place to lie down, to hide for the night before he decides what he plans to do next, where he plans to go.
Where will he go?
You are a Mandalorian no more.
The echo of the words make his head split, and for a moment, he has half a mind to wrench the helmet off, to launch it off the ring, let space swallow the beskar whole. But he stops himself; it feels as though his armour is all he has left.
His armour, and the Darksaber. The right to the throne of Mandalore.
Maker, he can’t think straight. The ache only worsens, his limp more prominent, and it gets to the point where he can take no more. He falls onto the nearest crate, his injured leg stuck straight out in front of him. His body feels twice as heavy, his head even more so, and he tips it back against the wall to lighten the load. He’ll rest just a moment, he’ll just shut his eyes for one—
“Mando?”
Din pulls his blaster from his holster as his eyes shoot open. There’s the sound of shuffled steps, something metallic hitting the floor, a murmured dank farrik! He hits a button on his vambrace, turns off the thermal setting on his visor.
“Sweets?”
You look exactly the same as he remembers. It’s been ages, but he could never forget your face. He knows what’s underneath your clothes, too, and the memory speeds to the surface of his mind faster than a pod-racer.
+
Before he had an in with Peli on Tatooine, the Razor Crest routinely parked and tuned up in Hangar 3-5, he had you. You were well-known within the Guild, had more than a few contracts with different gangs and hunters in the galaxy. If something on a ship broke, you were the one to fix it, and you had enough heavily-armed thugs on your side to make anyone think twice about trying to mess with you.
Some called you the Mechanic, simple and descriptive. Others, those you let a little closer, knew you as Sweets, a moniker earned by your penchant for candies and treats. You’d let your favoured clients off easy if they were short a few credits, but had something sweet from the far reaches of the galaxy to offer in lieu of the missing cash.
Din knew he was one of your favoured clients, perhaps your favourite. Or, had been. You’d crowed endlessly about the Crest, desperate to get your hands on it any time he hauled it in for service, whether it actually needed it or not. Sometimes he genuinely needed something fixed, some times he’d found some candy or sweet in a far off corner of the galaxy that he’d brought back just for you.
Other times, he just wanted to see you.
You were sweet in other ways, too. He knew first-hand. And he knew he was the only client you let into your bed. He’d been drawn to you the first time you’d been introduced — a common contact between you and Din sent him your way when the Crest was in serious need of a tune-up, and you were the closest mechanic he could get to without doing more damage to the ship.
Your knowledge astounded him, to start. You were barely into a diagnostic and you knew exactly what needed to be fixed, what parts you had and didn’t, how many credits it was going to cost him. And you hadn’t even set foot on the ship yet. Your competency drove him wild, only spurred on when he brought you aboard the Crest to give the interior a once-over, eager to see if he’d kept everything original, or if you had any modifications to offer that he might be interested in. Din followed you around the ship silently, answering whatever questions you had, mostly just watching you work. It was intriguing beyond belief.
“That’s not much of a bed,” you’d commented, cocking your head to the side when you hit the button that opened the bunk. “When’s the last time you had a new mattress?”
He just shrugged.
“One thing you should know,” you said over your shoulder, descending the Crest’s ramp, heading back towards the entrance to your shop. “I don’t use droids.”
Din nearly fell over. “That’s not a problem.”
“Good,” you replied, tapping at your data pad, your brow scrunching. “It’ll take longer than your usual hangar; I do everything myself.”
“I’m happy to wait,” he said, dipping his helmet, thankful it was hiding the way he was raking his eyes over you. I don’t use droids. Had someone made you in a lab somewhere, on some backwater planet, just for him? “I know she’s in good hands.”
The grin you’d offered him was sweeter than anything he’d ever seen, and you shooed him out a moment later, muttering something about getting back to work.
When he returned three days later to retrieve his ship, he almost didn’t recognize it. You’d repainted most of the outside panels, replaced all the ones that were missing, and the engines were so shiny Din could see his helmet reflected in them. Inside the Crest was another story; you’d outfitted him with a carbonite cell system, top of the line and primed for use. That meant no more mouthy bounties, no more wasting durasteel cuffs and gags when he could just hit a button and have a quiet ride back to the Guild.
And in the bunk, a new mattress, complete with a pillow, and bolted on the wall, a mount for his helmet.
“You don’t sleep with that thing on, do you?”
“The carbonite system,” he nearly sputtered, rubbing a gloved hand over the back of his neck. “I don’t have the credits, I didn’t—”
You poked the toe of his boot with your own. “Call it a gift, Mando. Let’s just say I shouldn’t have had the thing hanging around to begin with.”
“Is that gonna cause me any problems?”
“Nope,” you replied, popping the p. “Wiped all the identification numbers from the system. No one will know where it came from. Except you.”
He stared at you a long moment. “Except me.”
He was sure to pay you in full, plus the candied flowers he’d found at one of the vendors in the markets. You’d smiled again at that, and while Din committed the sight to memory, he also promised himself that he wouldn’t let it be long before he saw your smile again.
And he kept that promise. The next time he landed the Crest in your hangar, it wasn’t because he needed a tune-up or new parts. He’d struck gold at a black market on Coruscant; his bounty had lead him into the belly of a sweet shop, and after the Gungan had been dealt with, Din did some hunting of his own. He took as many boxes as he could carry, trying to take one of each flavour, a few extra of the ones he’d seen on the shelf in your shop.
“What in Maker’s name are you doing here?” you’d called as soon as he landed, stepping out of the shop and into the hangar, your hands on your hips, cocked to one side. “You ruin my handiwork that fast?”
“Not exactly,” he’d replied, walking down the ramp, his arms laden with goodies. Your eyes had gone huge. “I come bearing gifts.”
“For me?” you cried, gasping as you took the boxes from him, tongue poking between your teeth. “Mandalorian, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were flirting with me.”
He’d never been so grateful for his helmet at that exact moment. He might have crumbled to dust if you’d seen how red his cheeks were. “I-I owed you,” he stuttered out, “for the carbonite.”
“You didn’t owe me anything,” you quipped, swaying from side to side on your feet, staring down at your treats. “I told you, it was a gift.” You gave him one of those smiles again, and Din felt his stomach twist at the glitter in your eyes. “Why don’t you stay a while? I’ll feed you and everything.”
You disappeared into the shop, and Din paused a moment before following.
He saw you disappear behind a dark curtain that had definitely seen better days, and Din followed your further to discover there was an apartment of sorts attached to the shop. Apartment was perhaps too kind a word; it was one large room, a kitchen to one side, a large futon spread in the middle. Trunks and boxes and crates stacked along the far wall, a few grease-stained jumpsuits littering the floor. You stumbled over your feet trying to pick them up, tossing the offending fabric into a nearby crate, before you turned back to him. “What are you hungry for?”
You served him first. Noodles with dark sauce and some kind of shredded meat you thought was bantha but weren’t quite sure. But, as you stated with a shrug, “it’s good, and it hasn’t killed me yet.” After you slid the bowl across the table to him, you turned back to the stove and stayed that way. After a moment, Din wasn’t sure what to do, but then your head turned slightly, your eyes trained directly to the left, not wandering towards him over your shoulder. “I won’t look. Swear.”
He lifted the helmet just enough to shovel the food into his mouth. You were right, the mystery meat was good, and the sauce you’d made to go with it was even better. He nearly inhaled the food, not wanting to keep you too long, and when the helmet slid back down, the mechanism hissing back into place, your head turned again, still not looking at him.
“You’re safe,” he said, sliding his empty bowl back across the table.
You turned fully, serving yourself, and he expected you to sit across from him, keeping a bit of distance between you, but instead, you rounded the table and plunked yourself down on the stool right beside him. You ate much slower than he had, and Din let his eyes graze over you. The streak of engine grease on your cheek, the scar that split your lower lip, the intricately messy way you wore your hair. A silver chain sat around your throat, strung with a tiny silver ring. It disappeared down the front of your shirt most of the time, but right then it sat awkwardly, the chain caught on your collar, the ring sitting in the hollow of your throat. He resisted the urge to reach out and fix it.
The jumpsuit you wore was nearly identical to the ones you’d hurriedly swiped off the floor. Torn on one knee, zipper unfurling beneath your chest, a symbol he didn’t recognize patched onto your thigh. You’d tied the sleeves around your waist like a belt, a dirty rag tucked in at your hip. The Mechanic, herself. Sweets.
He thought you were beautiful. He had a feeling you’d look beautiful in anything.
Or nothing.
Din was distracted by your thumb at your lips, swiping a drop of sauce from your chin and sucking your finger into your mouth. His flight-suit was tight beneath his beskar to begin with, and you weren’t helping matters. “So,” you said simply, reaching for your food again. “Tell me a story, Mando. A good one. Best bounty you ever caught.”
The conversation filtered between you two easily. You were a good listener, easy to talk to, and Din felt like he couldn’t stop talking to you, telling you about his first kill, his first bounty. His first ship, before the Crest. He couldn’t bring himself to tell you about the before, before the Guild, before he was just the Mandalorian, when he was just Din Djarin. A foundling. Part of him wondered what you think, what your reaction might be to his past, but a larger part forced his mouth shut.
At some point, he turned himself towards you on his stool, one arm braced on the table, the other resting on his thigh. After you finished your food, you leaned heavily on the table, your head pushed into your palm, legs crossed at your ankles, swinging slowly, the toe of your boot tapping his shin every once in a while.
He could see you were tired, the way you started covering your yawns and rubbing at your eyes. “I should go,” he said, starting to get to his feet. “You’re tired, and I don’t want to overstay my welcome.”
Your hand flashed out quick — not quick enough to startle him, though — and wrapped around his wrist. You’d managed to wedge your fingers right into the space where his glove met his vambrace, and he felt you against his pulse, against his bare skin. “You don’t have to leave, Mando.”
Din. He wanted to tell you. My name is Din.
Slowly, his own hand reached out, hovering in the air, shaking more than a vibroblade. He saw your eyes trace its path, watching until it lowered, dropped until the flat of his palm met the curve of your thigh. His gloved fingers wrapped around the meat of your leg, his thumb pressing towards the inside. 
He heard you gasp. 
He moved forward an inch, and his hand moved higher, thumb riding the seam of your jumpsuit. You hummed, fingered squeezing around his wrist, and Din moved closer, until he had one leg between yours. He let his hand wander higher, listening carefully to the changes in your breathing, the hitch in your throat. The heat between your legs was almost stifling, and something feral in the back of his brain screamed for more.
Whatever snapped in him, it seemed to break in you at exactly the same time. You both shot to your feet together, and Din’s hands moved to your waist, to where your sleeves were knotted at your waist. Yours roamed his chest plate, fingers tapping along beskar until you hooked them in his cloak. He halted his own hands, ready to help you remove the fabric, but you handled it just fine on your own, finding the hidden snaps with ease.
His blood turned to flame when he felt your fingers along his throat, seeking his pulse in another spot. “You should stay,” you breathed out, your voice barely above a murmur. “Please, Mando, I want you to stay.”
He forced himself to nod, his mind now preoccupied with ripping his gloves from his hands. He needed to feel you, no barriers in between.
He needed to see you, something in him screamed, no barriers in between.
He silenced that voice before it could spur him further. Busied himself with diving his hand beneath the waist of the jumpsuit, the broken zipper catching on his wrist. You were even hotter beneath, and he sucked down a breath when he found you wet, slick coating his fingers.
Your body leaned into him, chasing his touches, and he hooked his other hand around your thigh, lifting you up and backwards onto the table. He could feel you watching, your eyes moving from his helmet down his front, to where his hand was jammed beneath the jumpsuit. He crooked one finger, testing, pressing it into you, and grinned beneath his helmet when you moaned.
Din hooked his arm under your waist, lifting you just enough that he could maneuver the jumpsuit over your hips, down your legs. His cock jolted between his legs at the sight of you bare, leaned back on the table, your chest heaving. Even though the visor, he could see how slick you were, the evidence shining on the insides of your thighs.
He wanted to taste you.
He pushed the thought away again. Another time, when he wasn’t smearing the inside of his flight-suit with precum, when you weren’t keening into his touch as he dragged his fingers against the sensitive skin between your legs, when he could turn the lights off and shed his armour, bare himself to you the same way.
You moaned again when his fingers found your clit, drawing a sloppy circle that had your muscles tensing against his hand, knees closing against his hips. “F-fuck, Mando,” you ground out, tipping your head back on your shoulders. “You’re good with those hands.” Another stuttered breath as he twisted his wrist, curling two fingers just inside your entrance, thumb stretching up to swipe over your clit. “Really good.”
He was grinning beneath the helmet again, eyes glued to your face as he pressed further, fingers threading deeper into you. He could feel everything, the twitch of your thighs, the clench of your cunt. You reached out with one hand, using the other to balance yourself, and closed it around his elbow, your fingers digging into the thick fabric so hard he was shocked your nails didn’t bite right through.
“How do you like it, Sweets?” he asked, leaning forward until he was nearly hovering over you. Your hand moved from his elbow to chest, fingers hooked in his armour. “Tell me what you need.”
Your hand moved again, this time moving straight down his front, past his waist, right between his legs. His cock throbbed as you palmed him, a cat-like grin on your lips as you tilted your head level with the visor. You leaned up slightly, pressed your lips to the beskar edge that mirrored his jaw. Another squeeze, and the slow pace of his fingers faltered, his head nearly smacking into yours. “I need this.”
Din couldn’t hold back anymore. Something in the way you stared up at him, eyes tracing over the helmet, told him you didn’t want him to.
“I like it rough.”
It all happened in one fluid motion. He pulled you closer, right off the edge of the table, and you spun in his grip, leaning forward over the table, planting your hands flat. The jumpsuit slid further towards your ankles and you arched your back, your ass grinding against his hardness, and Din groaned audibly, tilting his head towards the ceiling. Your legs spread as much as the jumpsuit would allow, and Din worked his own zipper down, freeing himself from the flight-suit. You made the most delicious noise as the tip of his cock smacked against your ass, the tip dripping with precum.
Your head turned as he took himself in hand, tapping your ass with his cock again. “Maker,” you breathed out, your eyes widening. “I knew you’d be big.”
Beneath the helmet, Din turned crimson.
He planted his other hand between your shoulders, tipping you forward. You went willingly, eyes rolling back as he pushed his hips against your ass. He could see how wet you were as you bent, slick still dripping down your thighs.
There was nothing stopping him from dropping to his knees right then and there, lifting the helmet just enough to drag his tongue through your cunt. The thought alone made his cock pulse.
But then your hand reached back, twisting in the fabric covering his hip, and he couldn’t wait any longer. He bent his knees slightly, notching himself at your entrance, and pushed inside.
The noise you let out was nearly enough to make him cum right then and there. He knew he wasn’t gonna last, and judging by the sounds you continued to make and the way you were bearing down on him, hands clenched into fists on the tabletop, he didn’t think you were either. He set a fast pace, the space filling with the slick sound of him driving in and out of you, your moans echoing each move. Din’s gaze dropped, trained on the sight of his cock disappearing to you. Your hand flapped at his hip, scrabbling for purchase, and he wrapped his fingers around your forearm, groaning when you did the same.
He was right; you didn’t last long, and neither did he. Your entire body clenched as you came, one hand slamming against the table, nails digging deep into his wrist. It spurred his own orgasm, that coil at the base of his spine snapping, and he pulled out, cumming hard across the curve of your ass.
Silence settled over the both of you as you caught your breath. Din couldn’t help himself, rubbing his bare fingers over the expanse of your back, tracing over your spine. You arched a bit into his touch, making a satisfied noise before you lifted yourself off the table. You turned to him, leaned up to press a hot kiss to his bare throat. It made him shiver.
“Think we could do that again?” you murmured, lifting a finger and dragging it along the edge of his helmet. “Maybe you take all the metal off.”
Din cleared his throat, trying to ignore the way his cock twitched, already wanting a second round. “Helmet stays on.”
You stared at him a long moment, smile on your lips. “Helmet stays on.”
+
He kept close to you after that night. He rarely took bounties that took him to further reaches of the galaxy, loathe to admit that he was always within a few parsecs of your hangar. He brought you a long-distance commlink so he could tell you when he was coming back, so you could contact him if you ever needed him. He didn’t worry about you, per se; you were more than capable of taking care of yourself, and he knew for a fact you knew how to shoot the blaster you kept holstered on your thigh when he wasn’t around.
But then the comm went quiet. He called, you didn’t answer. A lead weight formed in his stomach, and he pushed the Crest’s engines are fast as they’d go. Carefully, though — he wouldn’t dare ruin any of your handiwork.
When he landed in the hangar, the lights were all off. It didn’t help his worry, and it only grew worse as he sprinted off the Crest, heading straight for the shop door.
It was locked, but the lock was no match for his vibroblade and a bit of brute force. Inside, the space was empty. no trace of you left inside. There was no sign of a struggle, no blood smeared on the floor or the wall, but it didn’t ease his mind any. What if someone had come for you, spirited you away in the dead of night to some backwater planet? Dank farrik, what if someone had put out a bounty on you? His mind reeled, raced, chewed him up and spit him out.
He never meant to get so attached to you.
Din switched the settings on his visor, finally determining that all the footprints he could make out on the floor were your own. Then he saw it, sitting on the edge of one of the shelves in the kitchen. The commlink, perched precariously, just enough out of sight that no one else would think twice, but not Din.
He thumbed through the screen, saw the icon flashing with a recorded message. Your face lit up the screen instantly, and he stifled the way his stomach clenched. You looked…scared. Not hurt, not injured, but scared.
“Someone sold me out,” you said, your voice distorted and warped. “I can’t give you details. I can’t really tell you anything. Just know I’m going somewhere safe, and I’ll miss you, Mandalorian. Take care of yourself.”
Your eye were shiny as you reached out to cut the recording, and Din’s heart sank into his toes.
He put the commlink in his pocket, and returned to his ship.
He’d watched the message so many times the words were engraved into his brain. The change in your voice, the way you’d blinked harder the more you spoke. The way you paused in the middle, glanced over your shoulder with a shock of fear in your eyes.
And now here you are, standing in front of him, a pile of metal spilling out of a crate tucked beneath your arm, that same streak of fear in those big eyes. Eyes that have haunted him all these years. You nearly drop the crate as you crouch, your gaze zeroing in on the wound on his leg. “Maker, Mando, what the hell did you do?”
“Long story,” he groans out, wincing as you adjust his leg slightly, leaning to the side so you can get a better look. “What are you doing here?”
“I live here,” you reply, getting back to your feet, retrieving your crate of parts. “C’mon, let me clean you up. You look like hell.”
Din goes willingly, not sure what else to do, his mind racing from the combination of the Covert and you appearing out of nowhere. He lets you pull him slowly to his feet, tuck yourself under his arm. “Sweets,” he starts to protest, but you drag his arm around your shoulders.
“Shush,” you whisper, glancing around as you start to lead him in the opposite direction he’d been going. “Lean your weight on me.” He does as you say, nearly crumbling with relief. “There you go.”
The ache only worsens as you go, Din resisting the urge to lean his head against yours. When you finally turn him towards the door, he thinks he may topple over completely, but you’re quicker, producing a remote from your pocket. The door slides open, revealing the inside of a hangar, and you all but carry him through, discarding the crate of parts the moment you’re through, hitting the button again once you’re inside. The door slides shut, and Din lifts his head enough to look around. It looks nearly identical to your old hangar.
Then he hears a curious little beep, and looks down to see a tiny droid scurrying towards you. A BD-1 unit; he recognizes it from Peli’s, though yours is a little more rusty around the edges, the cleaner bits of metal painted grey and yellow. “Not now, Shrimp,” you grit, waving at the droid. It beeps loudly back at you, like an arguing child, and Din stifles his laugh.
“I thought you didn’t use droids,” he mumbles.
“He came with the hangar,” you reply, moving him across the hangar. Shrimp follows a few more steps before darting off, disappearing into a pile of crates. “Couldn’t bring myself to scrap him. Besides, not like he’s much help; tiny thing can’t even lift a socket wrench.”
He laughs out loud this time, and when you pull him into the shop, he laughs again, despite himself.
There’s a shelf of sweets above the workbench.
There’s no curtain between the shop and the apartment, instead another sliding door, another remote. Din lets out a low hum when he sees the apartment beyond. More than one room, furnished with actual furniture. It’s…nice. It’s really nice.
You deposit him on the couch, propping his leg up on the table in front of it. “Wait here,” you mumble, pointing a finger at him before disappearing into another room. 
He doesn’t move, but hooks his fingers into the edge of his helmet and yanks it off, depositing it on the couch beside him. He sucks down a breath of unfiltered air.
You gasp as you walk back into the room, nearly dropping the silver case in your hand. “Mando, you—”
“Din,” he says instantly, reaching down, tugging his gloves off, tossing them onto the helmet. “My name is Din Djarin.”
“Din,” you repeat, slowly, like you’re tasting his name on your tongue. The corner of your mouth quirks. “Din…Djarin.”
He just nods. You approach him carefully, like you’re walking towards an injured animal instead of a man, the silver case clutched against your chest.
“Your helmet,” you start, gesturing vaguely. A memory sparks. He told you before — not in so many words — about his Creed, his upbringing. You’d asked, and he’d answered. It wasn’t information he gave willingly. The second time he had you, when you were sprawled out completely naked on that old futon, writhing and moaning beneath him, when he’d shed almost all his beskar, felt the warmth of your body pressed up against all of him. Afterward, when you’d both been sated for the time being, you’d peered up at him from your place on his chest. “Do you ever take it off?” you asked, your voice laced with sleep.
And he’d answered.
“It doesn’t matter,” he says now, eyes darting towards the curve of silver. “I’m not a Mandalorian anymore.”
“What?” you ask, your brow furrowing. He wants to reach out, let his thumb ride the space between your eyebrows, feel it smooth over as he kisses the spot. “What does that mean?”
“It means…” He trails off. Loaded question. What does it mean? Truly? “My name is Din Djarin.”
There’s still confusion etched into your features, but you don’t question him further. Your brow doesn’t loosen, and you perch on the table.
“What’s in the case?” he asks, jutting his chin towards the silver case still in your hands.
You look at him for a long moment, eyes sweeping over his face, over his features. Like you’re committing him to memory. He’s doing the same, almost scrutinizing your face, trying to remember what it looks like without the filter of his visor, what you truly look like, with no barriers in between.
He could taste you easily now.
The thought catches him off guard, the throb between his legs a welcome change to the pulsing of the wound on his thigh. The bacta the Covert had given him has worn off almost completely, and the pain is climbing. 
“B-bacta shot,” you stutter out, shaking your head slightly as you flipped open the case. Your eyes moved to the wound on his leg, peering at the plates of beskar, the flight-suit, the discarded helmet on the couch. “That needs to be cleaned.”
Din just nods.
“Think you can walk to the bedroom?” you ask, shoving the silver case into the chest pocket of your jumpsuit. He recognizes it — the tear in the knee, the patch on your thigh. You fixed the zipper. “It’ll be easier.”
It’s slow-going, getting him back to his feet, shuffling carefully to the bedroom. You ask him if he wants to bring the helmet; he just shakes his head.
What does that mean?
Your bed is unmade, but Din barely notices. The scent of you is amplified in here, and he’s sucking down breaths like he’s been deprived of oxygen. You help him lower to the edge of the bed, and he starts on the armour. You sink to your knees in front of him, setting the bacta shot on the mattress beside him. He removes a pauldron with shaking fingers, and you’re right there to take it from him, your movements sure, setting the metal carefully onto the floor, waiting for the next piece.
“You disappeared,” he says, after more pieces of beskar have been removed, when you’ve moved onto his boots, setting them both carefully at your side.
Your brow had just smoothed out, and it pinches again. “I had to. I left you a message.”
Din pulls the zipper on his flight-suit, reaches into the pocket sewn into the lining, and produces the commlink. “I know.”
Your lips part as you look at the piece of metal, dwarfed by his hand. “You found it.”
“I did.”
Bottom lip caught between your teeth, you look back up at him through your lashes. “It wasn’t safe.”
“You’re safe now,” he says, and you reach for the bacta shot. “Tell me.”
“It doesn’t matter now,” you reply, your voice bordering on stern. “Somebody sold me out.”
“I knew that much,” Din mumbles, and you shoot him a glare.
You sigh. “Let’s just say, there were some parts in the hangar that shouldn’t have been there, someone wasn’t happy with some work I did, and then next thing I knew, there were Imps on my tail. So I disappeared.”
“You could have told me where you were going.”
You shake your head. “They were listening. Tracking every message I sent out. I couldn’t let you get roped into it too.”
“You could have gone to the Guild,” he says. He’s too distracted to notice you pull the syringe out of the case. He doesn’t see the needle until you’re pushing it into his muscle above the wound. He grits his teeth audibly, hands curling hard around the edge of the mattress. “Dank farrik.”
“Sorry.”
“I would have come for you,” he says, breath hitching in his throat as you push the plunger down. It feels like his body has been flooded with ice water, his teeth chattering for a moment before the cold turns to a woozy sort of warmth that spreads through his chest like Corellian fire whiskey. He blinks hard, slow, one eye than the other.
“Can you stand?” He nods. Or thinks he does. “The bacta will help, but I need to put a bandage on that wound, at least.” More nodding. He’s vaguely aware of you draping his arms around your neck, your arms sliding around his waist to haul him up. He plants his feet beneath him, forces his weight over his ankles. His movements are slow, languid, like he’s moving through water. You manoeuvre one arm out of his flight-suit, pushing the fabric down his shoulders, until it settles around his hips. The metallic sound of the zipper seems to echo through his brain, and he knows you’re touching his waist, moving the fabric slowly over his injured thigh. But it doesn’t hurt.
All he can feel is you.
You sit him down again, work on pulling the suit off completely. Your hands are warm, soft, gentle against his bare legs, and he nearly buries his nose in the crown of your head when you bend down. Once the flight-suit has been removed, leaving him in his boxers and undershirt, you disappear again, and Din’s not sure if it’s thirty seconds or thirty minutes.
Something cold presses against his thigh, and he flinches. “Does it hurt?” you ask instantly, and your voice is clear, then muffled, then clear again. “It shouldn’t.”
“Nuh-uh,” he slurs out. He hears you laugh, and the sound is like tinkling bells. He wants to hear it again. “Sweets.”
“Yes, Din?” Clear, muffled. His name is a song on your lips.
“You’re beautiful.”
“So are you.”
“Mesh’la,” he mumbles, and then his eyes fall shut, his body slumps back, and he thinks you laugh again. He’s not quite sure; sleep is too busy yanking him under.
+
Din wakes to the sound of running water.
He’s disoriented, confused, not sure where he is until he pushes up on his elbows, looks around, drinks in the sight of your bedroom. The memory floods back; the Covert, then the hangar, taking the helmet off, the bacta shot that knocked him out.
But more importantly: you.
He rubs the sleep from his eyes. How long was he out? He can’t be sure; there’s a window on the far side of the room, but time on Glavis is different, artificial nighttime and starlight instead of sun. His armour has been moved from the floor, neatly piled on a dresser against the wall, his boots on the floor underneath. His flight-suit is spread out on a worktable in the middle of the room, and he can see from his spot that you’ve tried to mend it, patching the spot the Darksaber had cut open with a square of fabric. It’s looks to be the same kind of material, but the colour is darker. Beneath the sheets, his leg is wrapped in cotton bandages, and there’s no sign of blood seeping to the surface.
His head turns in the direction of the noise of the water, and he pauses, waits for some kind of pain to prick through his body, but it never comes. He feels…good. Well-rested. His eyes follow the sound, and then he sees it.
The door to your bathroom is wide open, and from his spot on your bed, he can see directly into the shower. You’re inside, steam pouring over the top of the glass wall, and Din’s whole body jerks. He never forgot what you looked like naked, and it’s been a long time, but somehow it still feels like the first time. He can feel the blood rushing south, and his hands clench in the bedsheets.
He just stares, watching the water move over you, cascading down your spine, rolling in rivulets over your curves, following the lines of your body. He wants to follow them too, wants to read you like a map only he knows the key to.
Dank farrik, he’s missed you. He hadn’t realized how much.
The water shuts off, and he sees you reach for a towel, wiping your face first. He sinks back down on the bed, wondering if he should feign sleep, feeling like a kid caught doing something he’s not supposed to. But before he can— “You’re awake,” he hears you call, and looks back just as you wrap the towel around your middle. “I thought you’d be out for the night.”
Din coughs, shifting the blankets, trying to hide the tent that’s formed in his boxers. “You don’t close the door?” He doesn’t know what else to say.
You laugh. “I live alone,” you say, stepping out of the bathroom, walking towards the dresser his armour sits upon. “Force of habit.”
He clears his throat. Loudly. Pauses. “…it’s a nice view.”
Your tongue peeks between your lips as you walk over to him, still in just the towel. Your hair is still dripping, water droplets dotting your shoulders. You sink slowly onto the edge of the bed. “How do you feel?”
“G-good,” he spits out, adjusting himself, making more room for you. “Really good.”
The corner of your mouth quirks. “I’m glad. You scared me, Man—” You catch yourself. “Din.”
A drop of water splashes down from your hair, starts a path down your upper arm, and Din reaches out, catching it on his finger. You watch his hand, lips softly parted, and he continues the path, drawing his hand up and down your skin, the backs of his knuckles against your bicep.
“I wondered where you were, all these years,” you whisper. There’s longing in your voice, he notices; the same feeling sits like a weight on his chest. “I never stopped wondering.”
“I’ll tell you sometime,” he whispers back. There’s something forming in the air between you, thick like the steam that still foams from the open bathroom. Din can almost taste it, and the thought he’d had in your living room resurfaces, making him twitch beneath the sheets. He could taste you so easily now. “It’s a long story.”
The corner of your mouth quirks. “I got nothing but time.”
So does he, he realizes. He’s without a ship, without his son, without anything anchoring him to one planet or another, to any sort of path. He’d been wandering already, trying to find the Covert, and now he is unmoored once more, yet somehow managed to find his way back to your hangar.
To your bed.
His hand stops chasing water droplets, and he sees your teeth sink into your lower lip. He lowers his palm until it rests on your bare thigh, and he can feel how your skin is still hot from the shower. “I never kissed you,” he rasps. “Before.”
Your head shakes slowly, and you turn towards him more fully. The towel is loose around your chest, your hand holding it in place, and he reaches for it, slowly uncurling your fingers from the fabric, until your grip falls slack, and the towel goes with it. “You should fix that,” you murmur.
“I’m out of practice.”
Your lips twitch again. “How bad?”
“Few decades,” he says softly. “Since before I swore the Creed.”
“You were a child.”
“It was a childish kiss.” He pauses, moves his hand again, brushes dripping locks of hair from your face. “I don’t want to kiss you like that.”
“Just…” Din leans in slightly, tilts his head to the side. “Do what feels natural.” You mirror his movement, and his eyes are glued to your mouth, to the way your lips stay parted even when you’re done speaking, the way your collar lifts with shuddered breaths. He sees your hands move the towel out of the corner of his eye, pulling the fabric away from your body completely until you’re bared to him, head to toe.
You’re just as beautiful as he remembers. If not more.
The tip of his nose drags along the slope of yours, and his hand slides from your thigh to your hip. “I need you closer, Sweets,” he murmurs, and you nod against him, your foreheads tapping together. There’s a bit of shuffling, the blankets moved back, his tented boxers exposed but barely acknowledged as you climb into his lap. He revels in the way you look above him, your knees pressed either side of his hips. You’re hesitant to lower your weight onto his leg, and he guides you slow, giving you a quiet it’s okay as you settle onto him.
He doesn’t feel any pain; he just feels you.
Once you’re comfortable, your hands clutching at his shoulders, he adjusts his grip on you, palms skimming up your spine, mapping out your ribs and the curve of your ass. You make a quiet noise when he squeezes one cheek, the movement propelling you forward, making your hips roll into his, your core pushed against his hard cock. It makes him hiss with pleasure, and he slides one hand up to your hair, knotting his fingers in it and dragging your mouth down to his.
It’s not artful; he’s sure it doesn’t look pretty from the outside. There’s a lot of teeth and tongue, the fumble of hands as he tries to get you even closer. He’s sure you’ve been kissed better than this, and it makes his cheeks heat, makes him pull away, tucking his chin towards his chest. “I’m sorry, I—”
“Hey,” you say softly, your hands moving to cup his cheeks, tilting his face back up towards you. “It’s okay. Just…follow my lead?” You say it like a question, your thumbs swiping over his face, through the smatter of facial hair along his jaw. “I got you.”
Din nods, lets his lips part as you cock your head to the side, leaning in slow. You kiss his top lip and then his bottom one, giving him just enough teeth that he wants more, wants it harder. He grips your hips as you move, but your kiss stays tender, slow, your tongue a wet heat against his own. He’d dreamed of this, of kissing you, and this one — albeit the second attempt — is everything he ever imagined.
Finally, your mouth grows more insistent. He’s hard as steel between his legs, and he can feel how hot you are, your wetness spreading across his boxers with every roll of your hips. Your mouth is sweet, almost sugary, and he finds himself chuckling against your lips, still trying to get you closer. Your stomach presses to his as you wrap your arms around his neck, kissing him harder, your tongue licking into his mouth.
“Sweets,” he grinds out when you start pulling at his undershirt, insistent to get it over his head. He lets you, and when you lower your head again, your mouth moves to his throat instead, and it makes him moan. “Mesh’la, wait, please, I need—”
You pull back instantly, your eyes bright with worry. “What is it? Are you okay?”
“I want…” His eyes drop, tracing a path down your body, his throat growing dry when they land on the apex of your thighs, the glistening wetness he knows he’s caused. He lets one hand follow the path his eyes made, rubs his thumb over your clit. Your whole body shivers. “I want to taste you.”
Your eyes go big, pupils blown with lust, and Din uses your momentary shock to his advantage. He’s stronger than you, perks of the bounty hunting lifestyle, and he flips you easily with one arm around your waist, his other hand hitching your thigh over his hip. You squeak as your head hits the pillows, clinging to him until you’re laid out beneath him.
It’s his turn to kiss his way down your throat, and he does, laving his tongue against your pulse as he makes his way down your body. He pauses at your chest, moves to the side to close his lips around your nipple. It makes your back arch, a high-pitched noise falling from your mouth, and he grins against you, giving you just the edge of his teeth before he’s wandering across your chest to give the other the same attention.
You’re a writhing mess by the time he’s settled between your thighs. He can’t keep his eyes still, raking over every inch of you, trying to remember every part. He can see the muscles in your legs jump as he traces his fingers over them, the more sensitive parts of your skin making you keen.
With your legs spread, he can see everything, and his mouth waters at the sight of your wet cunt, walls fluttering around nothing as he teases you with his fingers, collecting your wetness on the tips before drawing them to his mouth.
He moans at the taste. Of course, you’re sweet. Deliciously so.
“Din,” you groan out, propping yourself up on your elbows. He can feel you watching, and his gaze flicks up to yours as he drops his jaw, lowers his mouth to you. Your eyes roll back for a moment, one hand moving to knot in his hair, and Din moans into you. His tongue explodes with the taste of you, sending shocks down his spine, making his hips rolls into the mattress, seeking relief.
Just do what feels natural, your words echo in his head. So he does. He licks into you, wide stripes with the flat of his tongue, smaller kitten licks to your clit. He can’t get enough of your taste, hooking his hands around your thighs, pulling himself deeper into you. And you guide him some, your hand in his hair an anchor of sorts, tugging slightly to get him right where you need him, a gasped oh fuck, right there! reaching his ears.
It’s not before long that you’re smacking at his shoulder, muffled moans on your lips with your teeth sunk into your lower one. He detaches from you, gets one more good look and lick in before he’s following your grip, kissing every inch of you he can reach as he makes his way back up your body.
“I need you inside me,” you slur, your hands reaching down, pushing at his boxers. His cock springs up against his stomach and he groans, the sound growing louder when you wrap your fingers around him. “Please, Din, I want to cum on your cock.”
It’s a miracle he doesn’t cum right then and there, hearing your words turn filthy. And filthier still as he hauls himself over you, plants one elbow beside your head, looks between you, reaches down to line himself up and—
Freezes.
He can feel your eyes on his face, features pinched with anticipation. Your hands have found homes along his ribs, fingers tapping out rhythmless patterns. Hips lifting, you must see something in his expression, because you move a hand to his chin, lifting his eyes to yours again. “Din,” you say, and a shiver shoots down his spine again at the way his name sounds on your lips. “It’s okay. We can stop, if you need to.”
“No!” he nearly shouts, and feels himself flush, lowering himself slightly, careful not to drop all his weight on you. “No, that’s not what I…I don’t…”
“Don’t what?” you murmur. Your voice is quiet, understanding. You give a soft laugh. “I know you’re not a virgin, but if you don’t want to, it’s okay, I won’t say any—”
“It’s not that,” he cuts you off, petting his hand over your still-damp hair. “I want to. I want you. It’s just that…” He chews at his lip. “No one’s ever seen my face, while we…when I…”
Realization slides through your features. “Oh.”
“Yes.”
“I don’t have to look,” you say quickly, skimming your knuckles along his cheek. “I can turn over, if you like, if that’s easier than—”
“No,” he says, not a shout this time, but firmer. “I want you to see, Sweets.” He drops his chin, emboldened by your softness, your understanding. He kisses you soundly. “I want to kiss you while you cum.” His words pull a silky noise from your throat.
He breaks the kiss as he takes himself in hand, pushes into your dripping cunt. You’re hot, clenching down on him instantly, arms draped around his neck as he lowers himself further, latches his lips to yours. He hitches one of your legs high on his hip, drives into you deep. He had you close on his tongue already, and he rolls his hips hard, catching something deep inside that makes your entire body seize.
“Yes, Din, please, oh gods, please, please, please,” you’re babbling against his lips, one hand pressed flat between his shoulders, the other knotted in the back of his hair. “Yes!”
Just as he said, he kisses you while you cum. He feels it pulse through your body, your limbs taut and then lax, still holding him close. Your hips chase his, cunt clenching tight as a vice, and Din’s not far behind you, pleasure lighting a fuse down his spine.
You pull your lips from his just as he starts to spill in you. Your hand moves to grip his chin, and you force his gaze to yours. He gasps and your mouth mirrors his, lips parted in a soft o, turning to a grin as he grinds into you, painting your insides as deep as he can go. It feels like an implosion, his bones rattled in his body, but then set on the softest bed of silk as he collapses into your chest. You hold him close, petting one hand through his hair, breathing deep and slow until his own evens out, matches yours, until your heartbeat syncs with his.
“Mesh’la?” he calls after a moment, cheek still pressed to your sternum.
“Yes, Din?” you reply, your voice scratchy as your nails start to drag along his scalp. His eyes are heavy.
“I missed you.”
He can hear the smile in your voice. “I missed you too.”
+
Din wakes alone in your bed again.
He thinks it’s the next morning — the rest of what he assume to be evening was spent in your bed, both of you naked and wrapped in each other. Again and again and again, he pulled pleasure from your body, let you pull it from his, found your bliss together. By the time you were both too tired to move, sprawled on the mattress, your head on his shoulder, you’d whispered, “You’re a good kisser, Din Djarin.” And then you were asleep, Din not too far behind.
He dresses quickly, boxers pulled back on, undershirt in his hand as he pads out of the room. He finds you standing in the kitchen, a steaming cup of caf in your hands. The droid — Shrimp, he dimly recalls — is perched on the table, beeping out a message to you. You’re nodding along, blowing the steam off the top of your caf, and your eyes flick to him as he steps into the kitchen.
“You know Peli Motto?”
Din’s brow crinkles with confusion. “You know Peli?”
You scoff. “That woman taught me everything I know.”
“You’re joking.”
“Swear on my hangar.”
Din just laughs, walking around the table. He slides an arm around your waist once he’s close enough, leans into kiss the side of your head. You lean into him. “Why are we talking about Peli?”
“She sent me a message,” you say, offering him your caf. He takes a sip, only feeling more confused. “Asking if I had any spare ships laying around my hangar. A replacement for her Mandalorian friend.”
Din balks. He hasn’t told you about the Crest. “Sweets…”
You step away from him, pressing a hand to his chest as your eyes go wide with realization. “Din Djarin, what did you do to that ship?”
“I didn’t—”
“Din.”
“It was Imps,” he says, trying to reach for your hip. “It wasn’t—”
“Where is the Razor Crest?”
He sighs heavily, and reaches out to take the cup of caf from you again. “Now it’s nothing but a scorch mark on the planet Tython. It was the Imps. They took my son.” The words are out before he can stop them.
Your eyes go so wide he’s worried they might pop out of your skull. “Your son?”
“It’s a long story.”
You pluck the caf out of his hands, walk around the table, pull out a chair and sink into it. “I got nothing but time.”
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tremendum · 1 year
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(gif not mine) pairing: din djarin x afab!reader (gender not specified, descriptions of afab genitalia)     rating: explicit.  (18+. mdni.)     requested: yes, here !!! word count: 2.7k  summary:  Din lets out a shaky sigh, finally turning around in the chair to face you, legs spread slightly, "it's not like- I don't not want to- I just haven't-I don't know where to start."  warnings:  SMUT. there’s like no plot. teasing, PiV (unprotected), Din has a praise kink, he begs, inexperience, loss of virginity, brief allusion to rough sex if you squint, yall cant convince me Din isn’t a stuttering little mess, riding in the pilot’s seat!!, sliiiight dom!reader, slight discussion of Din being ashamed he’s a virgin, idk what else tbh  notes:  thank u for requesting this! i just wrote it in like 30 mins haha. i hope yall like it i love my space cowboy boyfriend <3  this is unedited. reblogs/comments always motivate me hehe
   [other din fic          din series (be like me): masterlist  ]
★  
you stare at the cold metal in front of you. 
it stares back silently. 
your hand is itching to just go knock, to raise a few inches and rap your knuckles upon its shimmering, textured surface; it'll be so simple. so easy, definitely one of the easier things you've ever done. 
but the conversation that awaits on the other side- well.
that's not so simple. 
"why don't you go over there, Din?"  a glint of beskar as his head whips to you, alarmed. thrown off. a head tilt of irritation, "excuse me?"  a raise of your eyebrows, "oh, sorry, didn't realize we were playing innocent." you jut your chin towards the young woman who stands, twirling her hair and making bedroom eyes at Din from across the bar. jealousy curls up your throat - he'd been staring in her direction since you'd arrived, too. "come on, she's been staring at you the whole time. go- go do your thing." 
"that isn't funny." he mutters, causing the chilled pint of ale between your fingers to sear you as you flush. tough crowd.  "why do you assume I'm joking, hm?" you tilt your head again and he shakes his head. it's painful, the way you and Mando have been dancing around each other for weeks. a brush of a leather hand on the small of your back, a kind chuckle at something you say, your hands soothing over the thick cowl that hides his sore knots - the ones that form in his shoulders from carrying the jetpack - a murmur of your name when you're in danger, the curling of your hand around his arm in crowded public spaces. you're sure it's torture, but it seems neither one of you can make the move. 
"she's not looking at me like- like anything." he dismisses, arms curling over themselves in a cross of defense. you hum a laugh; who wouldn't look at Mando like that? 
"oh, c'mon. jus'go up and talk to her. she's probably dying for a big man like you to toss her around." you elbow him, winking. a slick, regretting coil of envy curls around your stomach as you take in the way his helmet tilts from you back to her; what the fuck are you doing? you silently beat yourself up, cheeks hot with the swirling complacency that befalls you following several drinks of ale. you sound like a complete moof milker as you let yourself encourage Mando to- to what, pursue another woman? 
how does that make sense to your brain?  
there's an echoing thud as Din slams his fist hard on the bartop. you jump, eyes wide as he shakes his head, turning to stalk straight out the doors, leaving you behind in his anger. 
yeah. the wall has never been so daunting before. 
you know you upset him earlier. he's been cooped up inside his bunk the whole night after you returned alone from the cantina, and no matter how much you've tried to ignore it, you know that it's your fault that you've made him angry. 
your fist raises. 
the metal whooshes before you can make contact, though, and your eyes meet the hard chest of beskar before you can take a step back. a soft oh leaves your lips as his helmet tilts microscopically down towards you for a moment; he's pushing hard past you with a fierce silence and without a second glance in your direction. 
"wait!" you call as he disappears up into the cockpit, the silence sterile in the Crest as he stalks out of view. you chew your lip as you scramble to follow him, knowing you at least owe it to him to apologize for what you'd said. 
he's sitting in the cockpit, fiddling with the controls as you soon start to engage in liftoff protocols; a thudding jolt as the Crest lifts off sends you stumbling into the chair as you stare, wide-eyed, shocked at Mando's abrupt behavior. he didn't even warn you that he was preparing your next track. 
you try; you really do. seven different attempts - yes, you counted them - to get him to speak, casually commenting on the smoothness of the Crest after your last maintenance day, asking him if he remembered the coolant you'd forgotten a few cycles ago, telling him about Grogu catching a flying-Banda and swallowing it whole mid-air; stupid shit. 
all you got in response was silence.
a sigh, maybe - his helmet wouldn't turn anywhere near you, and your glare cuts through the glinting on his head as stars race above you. it was just like when you'd first met, agreeing to go with him and work maintenance or grogu-sit when he needed it, and existing in weeks of silent tension, the man surrounded in so many walls that he could be armor-less and still the most impenetrable person in the galaxy. 
he was cold. you'd pushed him back into the shell you'd spent months working to chip away. 
"Din." you say flatly, crossing your arms. he doesn't respond; not even a huff, or a grunt, or a movement of muscle to indicate he heard the word. 
"look, I just- I want to apologize. okay?" you say desperately, shaking your head. but he catches you off guard yet again as he speaks up, voice heavy and more hot than normal; like he's been stewing with his thoughts for far too long. 
"-I don't want some random woman. I don't just sleep with anybody because I think they're attractive." his voice moves through the cockpit in defiance and you sit back in your chair, blinking for a moment. oh.  
you clear your throat, unsure how to approach what he's said; a sick, twisted part of you scowls at his insinuation that he'd found the woman from the bar attractive; but of course he did. she was. and you're unable, still, to deny the throbbing ache of desire that dully spreads through you at the very dim prospect that you are not just a random woman to him.
"I was out of line. I over-stepped." you try again. 
"do you think I'm upset that you teased me back at the cantina?" he clips, taking you off-guard. your brows furrow, tilting your head, "y-yes?" it comes out like a question of your own, in your doubt. 
he sighs. the weight of it smashes you back as you furrow your brows; he will not go into another bout of silence again, you won't let him. no. 
"what is it, Din?" you ask gently, leaning your elbows onto your knees. 
he breathes out, hand twitching by his side. "I just-"
you're not sure what spurs his sudden admission; be it from frustration or a genuine desire to confide in you, his only companion besides a 50-year-old baby. 
"I don't have- I don't have much experience." he admits, voice laced with embarrassment. he sounds much more unsure of himself than normal. "because of the Creed- I have lived differently than others." 
oh. oh.
you flood with emotion, eyes flying wide. "oh, Din-" you feel like you're on fire in embarrassment, shaking your head in regret, "I'm- I didn't even think about that. I shouldn't have-" 
"please," he almost whimpers it, "stop." 
you do. 
he lets out a shaky sigh, finally turning around in the chair to face you, legs spread slightly, hands on his lap. "it's not like- I don't not want to- I just haven't-I don't know where to start." 
you nod, throat dry. his composure, the sweet genuine tilt in his voice; your underwear slicks as you wait for him to continue. the air feels... thick with anticipation. 
he's breathing more shallowly, his hands gripping his beskar thighs as he keeps your gaze. "I don't...know how to get what I want from..." he stops, his helmet fully facing you. your words are dead on your tongue as you stare at him; your heart thunders as you beg him to say it. 
"from you." he finishes, body still as he awaits your reaction. 
heat spreads through your entire body as you stare at him, fire licking your fingertips. he wants- he wants you. he wants you. 
you swallow your fears in one sentence, "have you considered... asking?" 
your voice has it's desired effect. his chest almost shivers as he lets out a soft breath, hands clenching as you stand from your seat to walk, slowly, towards his chair. you're more than thankful you'd had the thought to change from your hunting clothes; your shorts, breezy and loose, sit barely below the curve of your ass and you don't miss the way Din's helmet moves with the sway of your hips.
his helmet tilts to stare up at you when you set your hands on each side of his arm rests, leaning in close. you can smell his scent as you smile sweetly, "I would say yes, you know." you whisper next to his helmet as he lets out a strangled noise. 
it’s a split second before he shakily groans. "I want you." he finally gasps, "I need you." 
you let out your own shaky breath as arousal floods your underwear, arousal swirling in your stomach. "I want you too, Din." you press a soft kiss to his forehead, the cool beskar tingling your heated, desiring lips. 
his hands remain clenched until you slide yourself onto his lap, settling yourself to straddle him in the pilot's chair, a fantasy you've imagined almost every night since you've met the man. you don't even suggest removing the beskar; he deserves to be comfortable as possible, and you flush when you realize you like the sharp bite of the metal on your bare skin. 
your hands explore the long, sturdy planes of his chest and neck, over the ruched material, threads loose under the tips of your fingers, armor cold. you can feel him under your aching heat; he's already semi-hard, his breath falling from his helmet in breathy grunts as you slowly, gently rock against him. "you can touch me, Din." 
it's like he's snapped to life; hands fly up to your hips, tugging your chest impossibly close as he mutters into your ear, "fuck, cyare." 
it starts slow; your bodies glued to each other, exploring every inch you'd desire to discover before, the blue-electric lights of hyperspace coaxing the two of you into a dreamlike state. 
but he gets desperate quick. 
he's groaning, straining hard and thick against his flightsuit; as your hand falls to palm him as you rock your clothed clit over the material, you're momentarily concerned that if you aren't warmed up before taking him, he may not fit. "you're so big, Din." you whisper as your lips flutter along the seam of skin exposed between his helmet and cowl. he lets out a moan of your name, one hand pulling you by your back towards him, the other digging into the plush of your ass, sneaking under the fabric of your sleep shorts. 
"cyare, please-" he gasps, voice begging, "need to- need to be inside you." 
you smile, kissing the hot skin of his pressure point, tongue slinking up as his heart pounds. "there, that's how you ask, Din." 
you press another kiss to him, your hands moving to undo his flight suit, pulling his thick cock out; he ruts upwards with a sharp moan, hand digging into your ass so hard it may leave marks. 
pre-cum leaks out of him in beads; he's so goddamn hard, whimpering at your touch. you feel your slick dampen your thighs through your underwear, shivering with desire. 
you pull your underwear to the side swiftly, rising onto your knees as he stables your hips up above him. his chest sputters, grunting as you start to move your hips, teasing him with your velvety wet cunt. 
broken grunts of Mando'a leave his helmet, his fists tightening as his helmet falls back to thud against the back of his pilot's chair. "please, mesh'la, please." he mutters. 
you can't wait any longer; soon you're shifting, prodding yourself over his head, gently taking just a bit of him inside you. your gasps are in tandem at the tight, warm stretch; "Din, y'gonna fill me up so well." 
he moans at that, hands rising to hold your shoulders, his thick, muscled arms swallowing your frame as he hums, "fu-uck, n-need you mesh'la." 
you nod, your breath fogging up his helmet as you desperately shift your hips, preparing to take him into you. and then slowly, you let your legs relax slightly. 
"M-Maker-" Din stutters, the weight of his helmet dropping onto your shoulder as you slowly lower yourself; his cock, thick and warm, eases you open gently, the pain of his stretch curling your toes in your boots. “yes,” you hiss, swallowing dryly as your hands, stabilizing themselves on his neck and shoulder, grip tight. 
you have to ease yourself down onto him; his hips buck up harshly, as if he can't help himself, his tip sheathing so far into you that it prods at your tender cervix, causing you to yelp in pleasure. 
"s-sorry." he mutters, hands shaking as he holds on to you, "can't-f-fuck, it feels so- you feel so warm. y'so tight. ’m not gonna-" 
you nod desperately, starting to move yourself, fucking him slow as his hands hold you. 
"feels good. you're so good, you're so good for me." you mutter, causing his cock to twitch deep inside you. he moans loud as you mutter praises, his cock so deep; dragging through your walls, hitting an angle which nudges that delicious spot inside you.
a groan of your name has you smiling as you suck a mark dark onto his neck; you start to build up the pace, the simmering arousal soon spurring you to chase the building pleasure. 
"yes, yes." you nod, peppering kisses over his throat, nails clawing to expose more of the forbidden, golden skin. you feel him clench below you; his hard, cold thighs tense under the beskar, the muscles of his abdomen flexing under the protection as the lewd noise of your connection echoes through the cockpit. 
he's close, you know it. 
you want him to cum, you want him to be consumed by it; you want him to consume you, you want to consume him. you tug him as you maintain your pace, legs burning as you chase your own orgasm. 
"y'gonna cum, Din?" your voice is laced sultry and aroused, fogging his helmet as he nods, broken moans of ecstasy leaving his helmet. "yes, f-fuck- I-" 
"yes, cum, baby." you mutter, his hips soon spurring to thrust up and meet your own movements, the pet name making him shiver. you let out a yell, cracking with pleasure as he holds you immediately to you, his whimpers echoing with your moans. 
he finishes with a moan of your name and a slam of his fist hard onto the console next to you; all of the lights in the cockpit shut off at his action but you can barely notice as his orgasm paints your channel, hot and thick. you're out of breath as he rides out his high, ropes of cum filling you. 
he twitches inside of you as you stutter to a stop, your wetness causing a stain on his flightsuit below you. 
his head lifts from your shoulder, voice wrecked, chest panting. "you didn't- you didn't finish." he sounds confused, embarrassed. 
you flush at his statement - he just had sex for the first time, and is disappointed you didn't cum? you let your hands rub soothing circles over the parts of his shoulders that aren't covered with armor. 
"n-no, Din- that was 'bout you." you sigh, pressing a gentle kiss to the contoured beskar of his cheek. "we have next time." you ensure him, gasping as his hips still rock up into you gently, his softening cock pushing his cum deeper inside of you; holding it there. 
keeping him inside you. 
he stiffens, head rising to look at you. "no." he mutters, his hands dragging down your spine, catching on your hips, sliding back up to grope your breasts. "show me how to make you cum now. please, mesh'la." 
another rush of arousal floods you, shivers running down your body as you grin with a flush. resisting a loud moan of desire, you nod gently.  "okay." 
requests open
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oliviajdjarin · 1 year
Text
Din Djarin: Languid
Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!reader (she/her; afab)
Excerpt: “Can we do this now?” he asked, resting his nose against your cheek. His breaths coated your face. “Please?”
You smiled, burying your hands in his hair. Your eyes drifted closed in bliss. “Yes, Din. I want you. Right now.”
He kissed your cheek and placed your hands back on his armor. “Please get this off of me, and please keep me awake.”
And you did.
Warnings: sleepy, love-filled sex between a married couple. Wife!reader, grogu’s asleep, unprotected sex, mostly just kissing and feeling up. NOT breeding kink. A bit of cockwarming.
A/N: Once again, Happy Dincember everyone. I cannot explain how grateful I am for almost 3,000 followers without crying.
If you’d like to leave a like, comment, ask, or reblog, it would be much appreciated :)
Pedro Masterlist
(GIF from Pinterest)
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The familiar scuff of his boots on the Crest floor pulled you from REM sleep into barely languid, and the heat of your body from the cot’s covers warmed just so.
Your riduur was home.
Due to how out of it you were, it took you a few moments to realize that no, this wasn’t a dream. This was real. The two-day mission turned five, turned seven, turned nine, turned twelve was finally over, and your numb body somehow found the strength to prop itself up and drape yourself with the blankets.
You sat like that, all wrapped up in your cocoon, smiling to yourself with your eyes closed, for a few moments. You then stood up slowly, taking the blankets with you, and squinted your way out of the bedroom. Your eyes were no wider than slits, and you thanked the maker for muscle memory.
You swallowed the sleep from your mouth and rounded the corner, feeling your muscles ache with stretch, still in a daze. Your head was beginning to swim with dopamine, and with one last yawn, you made it to the cock pit.
The sight before you halted you instantly.
There was your husband, wrapped in wealth and impenetrable metal, leaning over Grogu’s tiny bassinet. He must have gotten fussy when Din opened the airlock, and Din had immediately taken care of it.
You’d have to thank him for that later.
He sat Grogu up, patting his back, and fed him small bites of maple bar. His favorite.
“That’s it buddy,” he whispered. “Swallow. There ya go.”
You stood and watched this encounter, soaking it in. It was moments like this that you missed the most when he was gone—moments so domiciliary and domesticated that they etched into your heart implicitly. These moments were so wrapped in rarity that you could not even daydream about them or yearn for them, because you didn’t even know they existed. Like watching a Mandalorian brush his teeth, or chop an onion, or change the sheets, or breathe at night. They were the memories you would recall when you were old and graying, unable to describe them in a way that did them justice.
You wrapped yourself tighter in the blankets, just watching and basking in the glow of it. Eventually Din laid Grogu down, tucking him in, and traced his face with his leather-bound glove.
“Goodnight buddy,” he whispered, and turned to you.
You looked up at him in all his sheathing, and smiled.
“Hi,” you whispered.
“Hi,” he whispered back. He smelled of metal and woods with a hint of gunpowder. In the nearly pitch black of the room his shoulders still appeared as broad as ever, his armor was caked in mud, and his weapons belt hung a noticeable amount lower than usual.
You took a moment to soak in the fact that you would look at him like this for the rest of your life.
“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said, moving closer to you.
“You didn’t,” you replied, “your boots did.”
His chuckle underneath the modulator was nothing like it was out of it, but it was enough to bring you home.
“You know I like being up for you when you get back,” you said, looking up higher at him as he came closer and closer. The warmth of the blankets and increased blood flow were not the only things warming your insides now. “Let me be your docile, obedient wife for once.”
You could feel the smirk on his face. “Yes. Obedient and docile, perfect for you.”
He made it to you, wrapping his hands around your waist. Your hands laid on top of his cooled beskar chest and chills etched up your spine as you looked up at him with a smile.
He pressed his forehead firmly against your own. The smell of forest and frost on him engulfed you. “My wife is none of those things.”
You hummed. “No, she isn’t.”
He began slowly walking you backwards into the bedroom, as if you were swaying in a dance, and your hands crept up to his helmet.
“Why didn’t you wake me up when the kid was fussy? I could have taken care of him.”
His gloved hands trailed up your back and the exhaustion in his voice was present. “I missed him. Wanted to take care of him.”
You smiled and pressed a kiss to his visor, tasting a mix of ice and salt that burned your chapped lips. “Okay.”
The back of your knees hit the bed frame and you stopped, creeping your hands underneath Din’s helmet.
“If you take this thing off me I’m not going to be able to keep my mouth off you.”
He said it so nonchalantly, as if that was a normal thing to say, and the fatigue of his voice and body language liquified you even more. Your still drowsy state was not helping matters.
You felt euphoric, in a perfect state of conscious and unconscious, like you were still in a dream. It was paradise.
“That’s exactly what I had in mind,” you said, removing the sheets wrapped around you. You let them fall onto the bed before reaching back up for him, slowly rising the helmet off of his head. The familiar hiss coated your ears as it rose, and the chocolate eyes that were yours forever met your own.
He smiled in the dark, illuminated by the moon. He brought his mouth inches away from yours, breathing in your breaths. “Hi.”
“Hi,” you responded, and he kissed you.
Immediately, the taste and feel of him washing over you threatened to crumble you to the floor. Din hands on your waist were the only things keeping you upright.
He kept you standing like it was nothing.
He kissed you slowly and deeply, taking his sweet time tasting you again. Your hands worked their way up his body, tracing his beskar all the way up to his hair. Your tongue met his at the same moment your nails scratched his scalp, and he pulled away from you to groan.
“Can we do this now?” he asked, resting his nose against your cheek. His breaths coated your face. “Please?”
You smiled, burying your hands in his hair. Your eyes drifted closed in bliss. “Yes, Din. I want you. Right now.”
He kissed your cheek and placed your hands back on his armor. “Please get this off of me, and please keep me awake.”
And you did.
Piece by piece, you disrobed the Mandalorian from his beskar down to complete nudity, watching his eyes open and close as he began to drift to sleep as he stood. A few times you had to lean him onto you to prevent him from falling, and he kissed around your pulse point every time. Whispering gibberish.
Finally you squatted down to remove his boots, and just like that, he was naked in front of you. His purple under-eyes stood out in the moonlight, as well as a new scar across his abdomen. Your irises coated in worry, reaching up to feel it, but he stopped you.
“Tomorrow,” he said, kissing you more passionately than he had all night. “Tomorrow.”
Then he disrobed you.
The rough skin on his hands tracing you lit you on fire, boiling you enough to keep you conscious. He was the slowest with your panties, pulling them down your thighs like an art form. You scratched your nails down his warm back, and that seemed to speed him up.
As soon as the fabric hit the floor Din lifted you into his arms, laying you down flat on the cot before crawling overtop of you.
“Din, you’re tired, I can—”
“No,” he said, burying his head in your neck. “Wanna be close to you.”
You couldn’t say no to that.
He took the sheets you had discarded and covered them over the two of you. You could see nothing else but him, and you were completely surrounded by the scent and warmth of his skin.
“Maker I missed you so badly,” he said before kissing you hard enough to make you whine. You pulled him as close to you as possible, tracing his body as he kissed and kissed and kissed you, memorizing your mouth. The passion and heat in you were rising, and with one trace down his haired chest with your nail, he pulled away. He traced his hands over your face, pushing your hair away to see you fully. You traced his face too, noticing his scruff had turned into a full beard.
You always liked that look on him.
“Y/N,” he whispered. “My Y/N.” He spoke as if you were unbelievable
“I’m right here,” you responded, holding his face in your hands.
“I just want to be inside of you,” he whispered, almost pathetically. “Can we just skip to that part?”
You smiled, laughing loudly, and kissed him quickly. “Yes.”
He huffed a laugh and kissed you again, nice and slow, like he had been the whole night.
He kissed you and felt you for so long that you didn’t know if he would make it. His movements slowed and slowed as he went on, touching you and tracing you so meticulously it was like he was painting you from nothing.
Finally, with a firm kiss to your jawline, he entered you tortuously. You exhaled in pure pleasure, and your body threatened to rapture already.
He was a dream come true.
Din halted when he was as deep as he could go and tucked his head into your neck. “Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, cyar’ika riduur.”
You kissed the side of his head. “Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, adol akaan.”
And that’s when he started to move.
As he moved in and out, in and out, in and out, dragging each thrust on and on to feel every inch of your folds. He felt all around you, re-memorizing you; how you skin felt, how your body had changed, and the exact rhythm of your heart.
Tears spilled from your eyes as he moved, and you moaned his name over and over, grateful for the return of it in your tongue.
“Keep—keep doing that, saying my name,” he said as he moved. “Almost forgot I had it.”
You repeated it over and over again, clenching around Din when he began to shake. He swirled his shaking fingers around your clit, and with one last clench, the both of you went.
The covers above your heads did little to hide the sound of your synchronization, and it was then that you really started to drift. Din was so warm inside you—filling you up completely—and his body had you trapped in a cave of sheets and serenity. You were perfectly satisfied with your husband safe and sound in your arms, and your body began to fail you.
You felt Din prop himself up and press kisses around your face and your mouth, and your lips tingled with the intensity of it all. He rubbed his nose against yours and pecked your lips before laying back on top of you, pulling the covers raised above his head off as he did. You were hit with fresh air, and were inches away from bliss before Din whispered one last thing in your ear.
“Goodnight, docile and obedient wife.”
You drifted off with a smile.
None of this was a dream. This was real.
Your riduur was home.
Mando’a Translations:
Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, cyar’ika riduur: I love you/ I will know you forever, my sweet wife.
Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, adol akaan: I love you/ I will know you forever, even through war.
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moonlight-prose · 6 months
Note
If you’re taking those as prompts, ❛ don’t you know what you’re doing to me? ❜ with Din perhaps?
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LOVE IS A FIRE THAT BURNS UNSEEN
a/n: so i took forever on this, because i kind of fell out of writing for din for...well....awhile. i can tell you this sat in my wips folder half finished for months. honestly i was wondering if it would even get finished. but i was re-watching mando last night and decided why the fuck not. i can't remember which prompt list this was from because it's been so long, but that's okay. this is not beta read or edited, but we live and die by the pen.
summary: on your list of things that could possibly happen while bounty hunting with din, dying from hypothermia wasn't included. nor was finally admitting the truth to yourself about your feelings.
word count: 3.1k+
pairing: din djarin x f!reader
warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, near death experience, angst, feelings being admitted sort of, p in v sex, a hint of choking, they're so in love it's sickening.
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It’s fucking cold in the Razor Crest as you sit in the cockpit waiting for his return. You’re bundled in a jacket that has seen better days, but even with the extra layers you swear you’ll freeze to death before he comes back. Tempted to turn the ship back on in order to get some heat—you do the most to distract yourself from the frost currently eating away at the skin of your face. Din’s instructions were clear. Keep the ship hidden until he comes back with the bounty, which would be simple enough.
That is if the bounty he was currently hunting resided on a planet with a temperature that wouldn’t kill you from exposure. Everything had been fine two hours ago. You were working on repairing an old comlink as he tracked the bounty through space, having caught their signal on the outer edges of the galaxy. Except then…they were attacked. Neither of you could see who caused it or even why, but suddenly a lone ship was heading into the atmosphere on the one planet you always said you’d rather die than visit.
Hoth—a frozen pit that once housed the Rebellion of all places.
So, there you were. Shivering to gain some warmth as you scanned the area for Din’s signal. If the ship was right, he still remained alive. You only wished you could say the same for yourself by the time he came back.
The cold had begun to seep into your layers, hitting your chest directly and causing you to cough harshly. If he didn’t return within the hour he would find you dead due to hypothermia. Except that’s not what scared you. It was the fact that he would be the one to find you—a man who showed absolutely no interest in you whatsoever.
You weren’t sure when the crush started or even why, but you do know the realization hit you harder than a speeder-bike going at full speed one day while you were sitting beside him in the cockpit. He laughed at something you said, the chuckle low and slightly clipped due to his modulator and that’s what did it. What had you sitting there in shock—eyes wide—as it suddenly dawned on you that…you liked him. A lot more than you would have ever thought before.
“Maker fucking above,” you muttered, your teeth chattering with the words. “Hurry up, bucket head.”
Vaguely you recalled some survival tips from your time as a teenager on Bracca working as a scrapper. Never touch live wires, always look out for yourself, and when stuck in freezing temperatures—layers become your best friend. So, you stumbled out of the cockpit chair and towards the ladder that would lead you to the rest of his ship. Slow small steps were all you could manage as your body went into overdrive to try and keep you warm. Except the ship acted as an icebox rather than a heater.
You could lock yourself in his small cot, burrowing under the blankets he’d bought because of you complaining there wasn’t enough on the ship. But you’d first have to get there. It was a struggle to even climb down the ladder—your breath coming in gasps as your lungs fought against the freezing air. How long had you been sitting up there? You held no answer to the question, because the results were clear to you now; you were up there long enough to lead you right to death’s doorstep.
Dragging yourself along the side of the ship wall, you flinched as the cold metal touched your cheek. You should have gone against his orders and simply turned the ship back on. It would keep you from this—currently fighting against hypothermia as Din took his sweet time coming back.
The sound of the airlock on the door releasing when it opened brought a small flicker of hope to life, burning bright in your chest. But it faded just as quickly as it came. You caught sight of him dragging a half dead bounty up the ramp—his helmet turned towards you—before you collapsed to the ground. Your body shivering in a final attempt to generate enough body heat in order to keep you alive.
His voice calling your name echoed in the back of your mind as you drifted off—the concept of sleep far more enticing than it should be.
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Steady breaths against your bare back was what you woke up—your mind drifting slowly back to reality. Or at least what you thought to be reality. The last thing you could recall was seeing Din’s helmet as your body did what it could to survive. How you ended up in the darkness of his cot, pressed against someone you assumed to be him…naked, was a mystery to you. Perhaps you were still dreaming. This must be how your mind envisioned some form of peace to ease your soul into an afterlife.
“You’re awake.” His voice caught you off guard—the breath in your throat catching.
“How…”
The shift of his body created a low burn of heat to appear at the bottom of your stomach as his arm tightened around your waist—drawing you closer. “You almost stopped breathing when I got back. Your body went into shock from the cold.”
“I was dying,” you said softly, the realization far less jarring than waking beside him in the nude.
He hummed, the low pitch a vibration you felt along your back. “I had to get you warm.”
“So you took off my clothes?” you asked, the smile prominent in your tone.
“Generating enough body heat only works when—”
“Both of us are naked.”
His fingers gripped onto the soft skin of your belly. “Yes,” he replied—voice slightly strained.
Somehow it never registered that he was actually sans armor and clothing until you felt his hand glide further up. The soft skin of his palm turned the spark into a fully formed flame that traveled its way through your body. He was laying beside you…naked. If you concentrated hard enough, you could feel the rise and fall of his stomach against your lower back—his skin soft there too.
Any other time your brain would have short circuited, but the sluggishness from sleep had yet to wear off. It made you rather docile—something you felt oddly grateful for. You were entirely aware, fully conscious of your words and decisions, but the tranquility in your body seemingly spurred you forward. No other time would you be this centered—this sure of yourself—and maybe that’s where you made the mistake, because this was dangerous. Revealing the feelings you’d harbored for months was like poison to your heart…positively lethal.
“Din,” you murmured, the soft heat coming from his body now spreading into yours.
If you knew you’d end up like this after one visit to Hoth, you would have come here a lot sooner.
“Yes?” Even his breath was warm as it brushed across the bare skin of your shoulder. Maker you were close in his bed that was barely big enough for him, let alone you beside him.
“I—” The words caught in the base of your throat, lodging themselves there like a stone you couldn’t swallow. You wanted to say it. Get everything out into the open and be done with it, but your mind seemed to be slowly coming to its senses.
“What is it?”
Closing your eyes, you let out a shuddered breath in the hopes that it would push down the erratic nerves which jumped under your skin. If you chickened out now, you’d never say the words. They’d be your secret—forever trapped in the cage of your heart until it was far too late to confess them. What’s funny is that they seemed like such easy things to say. How hard was it really to say I love you? How much effort did it take? Only you now realized it took a lot more than you expected.
It was far easier to die than to admit your feelings.
“I have to tell you something and I just—” Inhaling, you curled your hand around the blanket beneath you. “I don’t want you to look at me differently if things don’t turn out the way I hope.”
His thumb rubbed a soothing circle against your hip. “I won’t.”
You scoffed. “You probably will.”
The subtle shift of his body against yours caused flutters to go through your heart—rendering you speechless for a moment. He was so close it was maddening. If you had the courage you’d turn around, press yourself to him, and whisper the words against his lips. But you were practically stone, unable to even turn your head slightly to feel the press of his lips against your neck.
“For a while now I’ve felt…well…my feelings towards you have changed.” You blurted them out, hoping it was like ripping off a bandaid. Except the silence of his response hurt more than you expected.
Until—
“I know,” he said, his hand pressing a bit harder on your hip.
Nothing could have prepared you for the shockwave that went through your body. “You know?” you exclaimed.
“I’ve known since our trip to Coruscant.”
You paused, trying to form something to say, but all you could come up with was: “Why didn’t you say anything?”
Why had he let you think he held no feelings towards you? That you were alone in this. You felt him stiffen behind you, his hand pulling away slightly and your heart sank in your chest. Perhaps you had asked the wrong question. Or even touched on a part of this he didn’t want you to see. But you had to know the truth. You knew why you waited—why you couldn’t get the words out for the life of you—but why had he?
That is until he wrapped his arm around your waist tightly, jolting you back towards his body. A soft yelp left you as you tried to refocus yourself in the pitch black space. Except then you felt it. Pressing hard and insistent against your lower back—a part of Din you had only ever imagined, but never seen.
He grunted, his hand splaying across your stomach as you shifted against him. “Don’t you know what you’re doing to me?”
You gasped. “Din—”
“What you’ve been doing?
His hips canted downwards, grinding against you and sending heat sparking up your spine. Enough to combat the cold that still remained in you, but you wanted more. You craved it. Moaning softly, you pushed back against him, pressing your thighs together to hopefully appease the growing ache that formed. Except he was one step ahead of you. Shoving his bare thigh between your legs, he pressed it upwards, grinning at the way your head fell back against his chest—a guttural moan leaving your lips.
“Every day is fucking torture,” he rasped, his hand sliding even lower until his fingers were hovering right above where you needed him most. “Because I can’t touch you.” His lips pressed against the curve of your jaw. “Because I can’t kiss you…”
“Maker,” you gasped, reaching down to wrap your hand around his wrist. “I-I want you to touch me. Want you to kiss me.”
His fingers dipped down even lower, finally parting your folds. A ragged groan was pressed to your jaw, his teeth scraping down against the skin when he found you wet and dripping for him. You could feel his heartbeat against your back. How it was erratic and almost as quick as yours. He was just as nervous as you were—if not more so, because of his creed.
He wanted you to be his, to love him as he was with his creed, but he was scared that this wasn’t permanent. You wanted to show him the inner workings of your mind, the makeup of your heart—how he was seared into it. He was ingrained so deep into your soul that you couldn’t even fathom the thought of being parted from him.
“Are you always this wet for me?” he asked, disbelief clear in his tone.
Nodding, you felt another moan begin to form, only for it to die as he pulled his fingers away. “No—”
“Shh,” he breathed, cupping your jaw as he moved even closer. “I’ll take care of you.”
Heat flooded your stomach, a whine forming in your throat as he pulled you back, the head of his cock now nudging against your entrance. You dug your nails into his forearm, your lips parting to form around his name. A ragged moan echoing in his small quarters, and he began to push forward. Sliding into you slowly as you fought to keep yourself quiet.
“So fucking tight,” he hissed, wrapping his arm around your torso and thrusting into you completely, his hips pressing against your ass. “Won’t last—”
You keened when his hand fell to your clit, circling it with enough pressure to send jolts up your spine. For a moment he simply held himself there. Encompassed in your heat as he worked you over, building your release steadily until you were pressing into him. Your hips rolling against his fingers—fucking yourself on his cock. Soft moans were pressed to your skin, the stubble on his jaw scratching along your shoulder, and that only heightened everything.
For the first time…he was entirely yours. Bare and open as he indulged in something both of you had held back from doing for so long.
Squeezing your eyes shut, you turned your head and caught the corner of his lips in a kiss. Something so tender yet so powerful. It nearly sent you over the edge and you felt Din’s surprise at the action. How his body jolted, his hips nudging forward and fingers stuttering in their motions. Even though he had proudly claimed he wanted to kiss you, to finally feel your lips against his. He had never expected it to come true.
“Cyar'ika,” he breathed.
“I want…” You gasped, hips rolling against his fingers in quick movements as that blinding feeling continued to overtake you. “Kiss me Din. Please, please—”
His mouth found yours in the darkness of his cabin, and you felt your heart scream out. Felt your entire body give into him, his name, his signet forever carved into your heart. He was your future and he knew it. Which is why he kissed you with a fervor that you believed only existed in your dreams—a passion that you felt right down to your toes. His tongue slid along yours, tasting the shitty caf you had earlier—the desperation on your tastebuds.
“Ah…” You tried to form the words on your tongue. The feelings that were trapped in your heart, but they refused to be let loose.
“I know you want to cum,” he breathed, fingers speeding up as your walls began to flutter around his cock. His other hand shifted, wrapping gently around your throat to keep your face close to his. Pressing down lightly as you gasped. “Let me feel it.”
A keening broken moan of his name ripped from you, hands scrabbling to grasp for something, settling for his arm that kept you pressed against him. White flashed behind your closed eyes, his lips swallowing every sound you made as you writhed against him. Gushing around his cock.
You didn’t hear the hoarse shout that he pressed into your mouth, his hips thrusting into you quickly as he followed you off the edge. Filling you with a warmth that you swore you felt  in your chest. Biting down on his bottom lip you sucked into your mouth, moaning when he canted his hips forward, prolonging the sparks that ran up your spine. He was a panting mess and you tried to picture what he looked like.
Was his hair a mess? Were his cheeks stained red? Were his lips swollen?
The urge to simply open your eyes nearly overtook you, but you understood what came with that action. What would have to happen afterwards. Din had explained enough for you to grasp the basic details of what being a Mandalorian meant. So you kept them closed and opted to simply feel. You memorized how his lips against yours felt, what being full of him felt like.
You kept what you could nestled against your heart, remaining here for as long as possible. Din’s cock softened in you, twitching every now and then when your walls fluttered. But you solely had him to blame. Because he was running his hand along your body, grazing your nipples lightly before pulling away—the familiar feelings in your stomach stirring once more. If he wasn’t careful neither of you would be leaving this bed for quite some time.
Which didn’t bode well for you seeing as how you hated the planet you currently resided on.
“Din,” you breathed, pulling away to catch your breath before he dived down again—ready for round two of the hottest makeout session you’d partaken in.
“You want to leave,” he panted. There was something scary about how he could see your thoughts so clearly. You’d have to ask him about it later.
“No…” Your head fell back against his shoulder. “I want to stay here, but Hoth.”
He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “We can stay here for as long as you want.”
Half expecting him to pull out and place his helmet back in its rightful place, you were a bit surprised when he remained put. Curling himself around you closer until his body perfectly molded yours. The cold still remained in the ship—the heaters unable to counteract the snowy planet—yet you found that you were perfectly content to remain right where you were. Wrapped in his arms—the certainty of your future now nestled in his heart. Mimicking yours in every way.
“Din,” you breathed in the darkness, feeling him trace something along your waist.
“Yes?”
“I just wanted to say…” You took in a breath, trying to calm the racing of your heart. “I feel like you should hear me say it.”
He pressed a kiss to your temple, his fingers pressing down. “I know cyar'ika. I feel the same way.”
“You do?” you asked softly.
“I do.”
You settled into the bed, allowing your muscles to relax and your body to once more give into the temptation of sleep. With Din right there, you felt as if you were able to finally relax. To give in and allow yourself to float.
“You know…” You yawned, feeling his chin settle against your shoulder. “Maybe Hoth isn’t so bad.”
He smiled, his lips brushing along your skin as you drifted off, mind succumbing to the sweet snare of unconsciousness. “No,” he breathed, continuing to trace the shape of his signet on your skin, because whether you wore it or not…you were a part of his clan. His life. “It’s not.”
769 notes · View notes
absurdthirst · 5 months
Text
Vivid {Mando x F!Reader}
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 6.4k
Warnings: SEX POLLEN, dubious consent, fuck or die, oral sex (male and female receiving), 69, face sitting, blindfolds, sex in the dark, vaginal sex, rough sex, overstimulation, cream pie, cum eating, masturbation
Comments: A chance encounter in the canyon just beyond Din's little house on Nevarro leads to a sticky situation. A vivid pink flower, a powerful aphrodisiac, and a need to fuck has Mando bringing you home.
Co-written with @pedropascalsx
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The changes around Nevarro are….nice. The little house that was deeded to Din is far enough away from town that he doesn’t feel crowded, yet it’s close enough that he can walk Grogu to the little school that he had enrolled him in. His journeys needed to include more socialization than bounty hunters, killer droids and Mandalorians. He needed to be able to move throughout many different cultures respectfully and what better place to learn than school?
Din’s own education happened in the Fighting Corps. Effective, but he had a mind to raise his adoptive son and apprentice better than his own teacher had. Especially since Grogu had an advantage that he had never wielded, the force. 
“No Grogu,” Din shakes his head and sighs softly as the fifty year old baby tries once again to float his little school pack off the shelf to where he is sitting. Wanting to go to school, even though it’s the weekend. “There is no school today.” 
****
It had been a long day so far, you’d run your usual errands and finished a few tasks around your home. A few of the children in your class had been requesting some more painting time during the week, and never one to dim anyone’s excitement for the arts, you couldn’t say no.
You like to make sure that art class is just as educational as it is fun, so you grabbed your book of plants and flowers and got ready to make your way out of town to collect and pick some plants and flowers for the kids to paint and learn to identify. 
The cool breeze was welcomed as you began your trip, a wicker basket hanging comfortably from the crook of your elbow as you made your way through the town, greeting everyone politely and with a warm smile as you did so. 
You like Nevarro. Especially as of recent, the town was much friendlier and a new sense of community had fallen across the planet. 
After a brief chat with one of your overexcited students and his parents you continued your walk while nibbling on some fresh fruit from a stall you had passed.
The kid is passed out in the little bed that Din had bought for him, the Mandalorian steps out of the house, striding off towards the canyon. He needs to tune his blaster, having replaced the plasma cartridge earlier. The domesticity is unusual, but he likes it, a set schedule and a home to make meals in. It’s oddly appealing, even though he does often wonder how the covert is doing on Mandalore.
After a nice breezy walk, your basket is almost full, you’ve picked multiple flowers and plants for the children to paint and learn about. The canyon is quiet, peaceful, the only sound coming from the soft breeze shaking the trees and the occasional twitter from the out of sight creatures. 
You’re just about to leave and make your way back home, before it catches your eye and steals your attention. A vivid shade of pink and standing alone. The petals are perfectly uniform and it’s the most perfect looking flower that you’ve ever seen.
Din sighs, seeing someone in the canyon ahead of him. There wouldn’t be any practice unless the person was just leaving. Making him huff under his helmet and hope that it wasn’t someone who is looking for trouble.
You kneel down in front of the flower, appreciating its beauty before reaching into your basket and pulling out your holopad. Unable to resist taking a few snaps of the gorgeous flower. 
Zooming in on the photo you notice a figure in the background that you immediately recognise as the father of Grogu - the new and unbelievably adorable little green foundling in your class. 
You place your holopad back in your basket, figuring he’ll want some space. He’s polite, not much of a talker but there’s something about him that’s�� intense. The kind of intenseness that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand upright and makes that magic button downstairs pulse uncontrollably until it gets the attention it deserves. 
You gently snip the bottom of the stalk and gently scoop up the flower in your hands, inhaling its gorgeous and intoxicating scent and letting it flood your senses.
And then it hits you.
Walking closer, he recognizes that it’s Grogu’s teacher. You are a newcomer to Nevarro, at least, you hadn’t been here when it was a bounty hunter’s hive. One of the more gentle settlers, and it doesn’t hurt that besides him, you are Grogu’s favorite person. 
He smiles slightly under his helmet, wondering what you are doing out here in the canyon, although he spies the basket on your arm.
The effect is immediate, within seconds fire is coursing through your veins and pain meets a new type of pleasure in the most delicious way. 
Every nerve ending in your body is set alight, and the pleasure center in your brain is working overtime. Arousal floods your core, your nipples harden and your clit is pulsing with desperate need out of nowhere. 
You start to whimper as your legs threaten to fail beneath you, you’re still kneeling but you feel as though you’re about to collapse in a heap on the floor. The sounds that leave your mouth are nothing short of filthy, and you become more and more aware of your need for something to quench the flames that are burning stronger with every passing second.
Seeing you stumble, Din rushes forward. Hand on his blaster as he tilts his head up, searching for danger. Why else would a healthy woman nearly collapse? “Hey! Hey, get down!” 
“The flower,” you say with a breathy moan, “I think it’s the flower.”
He’s already reached your side, grabbing you and your basket and dragging you behind a craggy outcrop in the canyon, getting you to cover. Unaware of your moaned words,  they were too unintelligible. The pollen from the flower drifts under his helmet, not pressurized against contaminants and floods his nostrils in a heady rush.
“I don’t know what’s happening,” you babble, as you start to pull on the collar of your dress. The material feels much too constricting and far too warm despite the cool breeze.
“Dank ferik.” Din hisses, his own armor suddenly feeling as if it weighs more than the great forge on Mandalore. “It’s- it’s the pollen.” He croaks out, slapping the basket out of your hand, but he knows it’s too late.
“What’s w-wrong with the pollen?” You gasp out, unsure why your clothes feel heavy and your body is trembling uncontrollably. Your need to be touched now is desperate.
“It’s an aphrodisiac.” He grunts, cock already hardening and tenting the fabric of his flight suit. “It- it lasts for hours and-“ His eyes under his helmet widen as he remembers one particular trait of this toxic flower.
“And?” You ask frantically, “And what?”
“Your heart explodes if you don’t- uh, have sex.” His hand slaps against the rock wall of the canyon and he groans, thinking about an activity that he has long denied himself. He’s been too busy with the kid to seek out any companionship, even for a night.
“What?” You say with a pained laugh, “How is that -fuuuuck- how is that even possible?” The lace from your bra rubs painfully against your hardened peaks and you have to physically fight the urge to free yourself of your dress and bra.
He doesn’t fucking know, but the digital display in his helmet is broadcasting that fact as he looks down at the flower. “What the fuck were you doing with it?” He demands, trying to think about something other than pushing you against the rocks and burying himself in your cunt.
“I was just.. I’m picking flowers for the kids to paint,” you say between labored breaths, “Please, do something. It fucking hurts.” You start to beg, unsure what can be done.
He hadn’t anticipated that response. Groaning, he shakes his head. Knowing that a quick fuck in the canyon isn’t going to do it. Plus it’s too exposed out here. “Hold on to me.” He orders, stumbling next to you and wrapping his arm around your back before he kicks on his Rising Phoenix.
You squeal with shock as you’re shot upwards into the deep blue sky, your arms wrapping so tightly around The Mandalorian that it hurts.
Din’s groans are covered by the sounds of the jetpack and the wind. His cock is throbbing and leaking into the flight suit and he knows you have to be feeling worse. Your exposure was vastly greater than his own.
He senses the moment that the pain becomes too much for you to bear, his arms wrapping even tighter around you as you start to lose your grip. Pain shoots throughout your body as you whimper in his arms.
“We-it’s- it’s close.” He groans, his own body used to pain although he’s never experienced an arousal that might override all his senses like this before. All he can think about is stripping you down, burying himself in your body over and over until relief is finally achieved.
“I can’t hold on much longer,” you gasp, as the aching between your thighs grows stronger and more uncomfortable.
The outline of his small cabin appears and it can’t be a second sooner. His entire body is tense and his jetpack is nearly sputtering as it sets down on the ground in front of the remote dwelling. His star-fighter is parked off to the side and he is grateful that the baby is still asleep in his own little room.
His grip on you stays firm as you reach the ground, and he gently pulls you into his cabin. Spinning you around he presses you up against the door and gently palms your tit with his gloved hands.
“Tell me-“ Din groans and bites his lip under his helmet. “Dank ferik, tell me I can fuck you, Mesh’la.” He begs.
“You can fuck me,” you say with a moan as you press yourself up against him, desperate to feel him inside of you.
His head turns towards the door where Grogu is sleeping, relieved to find it still closed and he steps back to drag you away from the wall. “My room.” He demands, knowing the kid didn’t need to wake up and see anything.
“Yes, sir,” you say as you follow him on shaky legs into the room. Your clothes feel heavy against your skin, but you wait for his command to remove them. Standby patiently but writhing in discomfort as he walks towards you. “I need to take my dress off,” you say, as the material irritates your skin.
“Take it off.” He knows he will rip your dress if it touches it and he needs to get out of his armor. It’s chafing his skin and he’s overheating.
You immediately unzip the dress and let it fall to the floor, before working on your bra and panties. “Need you so badly,” you whine and you climb down onto the bed, and spread your legs. Dipping your fingers into your entrance and spreading some of your arousing through your folds and circling your clit.
“Dank ferik.” The armor clanks to the floor carelessly. Unable to treat it as reverently as he normally does. Fingers fumbling as his cock throbs, visor trained on your cunt.
“Hurry,” you beg, as you circle your clit faster, you’re soaked enough for him to slide right in with little resistance. “Am I allowed to touch you?” You ask as you continue working your clit, you know a little about Mandalorian creed but you’ve never fucked one before and want to make sure you’re respectful and you don’t cross any boundaries.
“I-I’m going to turn out the lights.” He groans, wanting to see you, touch you. And have you touching him. “And I need to blindfold you.”
“Whatever you need,” you say, as you turn your head so he can blindfold you. “I won’t touch you unless you explicitly tell me where it’s okay, and I promise the blindfold will stay on until you take it off.”
“You can touch me.” He is panting as he ties the blindfold and quickly strips out of the flightsuit and his boots. Even though he is burning, he hesitates when reaching for his helmet.
You reach out and let your fingers run across his chest, “Fuck,” you say, as your pussy clenches around nothing, “Want you to fuck me so badly, but I really wanna suck your cock first, Mando. I want to rub my little pussy while you fuck my throat.”
“No.” He chokes out, knowing that your body is screaming for release worse than his own is. It makes the decision easy and the click of the locks is accompanied by a slight hiss as he lifts the helmet off his head and it clatters to the ground.
“Oh,” you say, clearly disappointed but still rubbing your clit as fast as you can and chasing your release. “How do you want me?”
Din knocks your hand away and climbs up on the bed to pull you up and spin you around. A lifetime of training makes picking you up easy and he flips you onto your stomach on his chest. “Suck my cock and I’ll lick you.” He rasps out, his voice unmodulated and clear. “Never done it, but I want to. You need it.”
The sound of his voice is even sexier when unmodulated. Raspy and rough. Each word going straight to your pussy. “Yes, sir,” you say as you feel around and finally get his cock in your hand. It’s thick, veiny and dripping in pre-cum, the room is dark enough and the blindfold is opaque enough that you can’t see it but it feels glorious in your hands. You give him a teasing lick, lapping up all the pre-cum before taking the tip of him in your mouth.
Din groans, his gloveless hands reaching for your hips and his entire body shudders when he realizes that it’s full skin to skin contact. Dragging you back and immediately plunging his tongue inside your quivering and leaking cunt.
“Oh, fuck,” you choke out as you pull off his cock, loving the dexterous heat of his tongue. You take him back into your mouth and hollow your cheeks, your moans vibrating against his cock as he eats your pussy. For someone who said he’d never done this before he’s unbelievably skilled, eating you with such vigor that after a few minutes you can feel your orgasm rapidly approaching.
There have been a lot of holo vids around oral sex in his past, learning and aching to try the things that he saw. Although he’s not got a forked tongue like some species, nor one as long, he still grunts in pleasure as you moan loudly around his cock. Rocking your hips back to taste you more, getting deeper into your cunt.
“Gonna cum,” you croak out around him, before swirling your tongue around the tip of him and pulling away before cumming with a loud whimper of the only name you know for him, “Fuck, Mando!’
Din nearly whimpers at the loss of your mouth but the sweetness of your cum makes up for it. Soaking his face like he’s never experienced before. His cock throbs and he pulls away. “Close.” He chokes out, knowing he’s going to cum from this alone.
You take him back into your mouth and double down on your efforts, sucking him harder and licking your tongue around him. You take him as deep as you can, working the bottom of his shaft with your hands, saliva dripping everywhere as you work him towards his high. Needing to feel his cock twitch and start to flood your mouth with his cum.
It doesn't take him but a few more seconds when your mouth wraps back around him for Din to start to cum. Groaning out your name harshly, it's the only warning you get when he shoots a hot rope of cum down your throat, immediately followed by another.
You swallow around him, humming at the rich yet salty taste of him. Not letting a single drop go to waste, eagerly awaiting each burst as your mouth milks him dry. He’s delicious, salty and musky and you want more. You keep sucking until he orders you to stop and you slowly pull off of him with a groan.
Even though he's cum, his body still aches, his cock is still hard and he knows you aren't satisfied either. "My tongue or my cock in your cunt this time?" He pants out, needing to know where to bury his cock again.
“Your cock, please,” you beg as you lift off of him, “Do you want me to ride you, Sir?”
"For now." He knows you might need him desperately and he wants to see how much you are willing to grind on him for his cock.
His harsh tone makes your chest clench, but you push away that feeling and position yourself over him, slowly sinking down on this thick cock and moaning loudly as he stretches you open. His cock fills you entirely, your walls flutter and hug his cock as you get used to the delicious stinging from how stretched out you are from him. You start rocking your hips slowly, before increasing your pace, grinding down on him over and over. Desperate moans slipping through your plush lips as a wave of euphoria floods through you.
The darkness is just enough that he can see you move. A shadow and he wishes that he could turn the lights back on but he can't risk your blindfold coming loose. It's barely a loophole and technicality of the creed, but you can't see him. Not unless you were going to bind yourself to him.
“You feel so good,” you choke out, as you rock your hips a little faster. “So big. So thick.” You murmur again and again as your pace quickens, chasing a high and feeling a desperate need to have him cum hard and paint your walls with his delicious cum.
"Fuck." Din chokes out, puffing up at the praise. It's better than the moans with his cock in your mouth and he palms your tits, plucking at them and pinching your nipples while you bounce on his length.
“Tell me what you need,” you moan, “Fast or slow? Need you to feel good, baby, want to feel this cock fill me up.”
Din curses again. "Fuck, fast." He hisses, squeezing your tits harshly. "Fucking ride me hard."
You do as he commands, increasing your pace and bouncing up and down on him as fast as you can, moaning in pleasure as he hits that spot inside of you. Your hands cover his as he squeezes your tits, holding on tightly as he starts to fuck up into you, matching your pace with his own.
The loud sounds of sex fill his room. His hips snapping up as you bounce down on his cock. Both of you moaning and cursing greedily as the fire of the pollen rages in your systems. He knows you’re craven for his cum, the only thing that can soothe the effects of the flower.
You reach down and start to circle your clit, as you keep the same pace, wanting to clamp down around him and hear those delicious groans from him. “You’re incredible,” you pant as you near your high, circling your clit with perfect precision as he fucks up against nirvana inside of you. “Gonna cum,” you warn, before pleasure washes over you and squeeze his cock like a vice. Yelling his name as you cum, hard.
Letting go of your tits, he grabs your hips again and starts the hammer up into you. His hold on your body is the only thing keeping you from being thrown up into the air. Harsh punches of his cock that hit deep and wrench a cry out of you every time he hits your cervix, he can’t even care if it hurts you because you gush another wave of heat around him.
“Fuck,” you choke out, as he pushes the air from your lungs with every thrust. You’ve never been fucked like this before, but it’s addicting, you crave more and more from him with each harsh thrust of his hips. “Fill me up,” you beg, each word more strained as his pace quickly overwhelms you.
His arms wrap around you and he’s thrusting up into you like you are his personal fuck toy. “Fuck, fuck, gonna, fuck- fill you up.” He promises, grunting out a word every time he buries his cock into your spasming cunt. One harsh thrust later and a harsh bark of your name, he delivers on that promise. Cumming just as hard and as much as when he came down your throat only minutes before.
Falling forward onto him your face nuzzles into the crook of his neck, he’s still hard and twitching inside of you but a wave of exhaustion starts to make an appearance. You pant into his warm skin, arms tightly wrapped around him and you can’t ignore how tense he is. You’re unsure if you’ve crossed a line, but you need to catch your breath again before you’re able to move off of him and ask how he wants you next.
Din is tense from how close you are to his face. It’s been so long but you don’t reach up to touch it. Your arms around his shoulders and your face tucked into his neck. He rolls you onto your back and starts to rock into you again. Knowing that the night isn’t over by a long shot.
You moan as he rocks into you, his stamina clearly better than your own as you attempt to gather up some strength. But he seems content to pick up the slack as your pussy flutters around him and your walls hug him tight. “Are you allowed to kiss me?” You ask, barely above a whisper as his hips snap forward.
Din groans and he nods even though you can’t see him. “Can I?” He breathes above your lips. He’s never kissed before and right now as he fucking you both through a dangerous exposure to sex pollen seem to be a good time to experience it.
“Yes, please.” You plead softly, wanting to taste his lips despite not knowing what they look like. Not caring at all that you have no idea what he looks like.
Permission granted, he crushes his lips to your in a messy kiss. Much less coordinated than when he licked into you, he had avoided kissing holo vids because he had felt jealous.
You giggle a little at the way he smashes his lips against yours, before lightly touching his chin and taking the lead. Licking his bottom lip gently until he parts his lips enough for you to slip your tongue inside and press it against his own. It doesn’t take long until he’s mastering the art and taking control, his lips now refusing to part from yours as he rocks his hips into you. Kissing you just as hard as he fucks you, changing up the pace every now and then and swallowing your moans of delight.
Groaning into your mouth is like ambrosia. You are the best thing he’s ever tasted and he can’t get enough. His cock steadily fills you with strokes and his tongue mimics the motion into your mouth as he pants his pleasure loudly.
With a few more strokes of his cock, he has you clamping down around him and crying out the name you know him by in pleasure. The stuttering of his hips as your pussy acts like a vice around him makes him grunt your name before pulling you in for another breathtaking kiss. The effects of the pollen start to lessen but the effects of him growing stronger. Everything about him is consuming, his scent, the power he commands and with every snap of his hips and grunt of your name; you want more and more.
Din can barely rock his hips but the clenching and squeezing of your cunt pushes him over the edge. This time he is moaning your name into your mouth while pushing more cum into your pussy. Sliding down your cheeks and soaking his bed underneath you in growing puddle.
“Fuck, Mando,” you say against his lips, with a bright smile. “Picking that flower was the best decision I've made in months.” You love the way he twitches inside of you, your walls still hugging him tightly as he groans against your mouth. You gently run your hand up and down his back as he works on catching his breath.
“Din.” There are plenty of people who know his name now and he doesn’t see why you shouldn’t. Given that he had just fucked the life out of you and still had a few more rounds in him before the pollen is completely gone. “My name. It’s Din.”
“Din,” you repeat softly, “I like that. Din.” You press a light kiss to his lips before repeating his name a few more times. “Do you think I can jerk you off next? My pussy isn’t used to being fucked this good. Give her a little break before you fill her up again?”
“Do you want my mouth again?” He asks, knowing you might still need something. “I can just suck on your clit.”
“Are you sure?” You ask, “I know you said that was the first time you did it, and I don’t want you to feel like you have to do it again if you don’t want.”
“I liked it.” Din twitches inside you as he admits that and kisses you again. “Unless you didn’t like it?”
“I loved it,” you giggle, “Can’t believe that was the first time you’ve done it. Best oral I’ve ever had.” 
“Good.” He grunts happily. “Then I’ll do it again.” He pulls out of you and rolls onto his back.
“You want me to sit on your face and I can jerk you off as you eat my pussy, baby?”
“Fuck yes.” Din groans. “Want to taste your cunt filled with my cum.”
“Fuck,” you moan at his filth, “Yes, sir.” He helps you position over his face, and you hover a few inches above his mouth before reaching down and gripping his cock. Giving it a few languid strokes before finding a pace that has him groaning. “I bet you’ve got a gorgeous cock, Din, I can feel how good it is. But fuck. It’s so thick and long and those veins… I.. fuck. It’s so perfect.” You tell him before he pulls you down and starts to eat your pussy like a man starved. You work his cock like it’s the most important job in the work, each flick of your wrist designed to make him groan and grunt with pure pleasure. “Do you like that? Do you like me stroking your cock while it’s still dripping with my cum, Din?”
He huffs, nodding his head as he continues to lick and taste both of you combined. He’d love it if you sucked his cock again but your hand is good too. Tilting your hips up, he finds your clit and sucks it into his mouth.
“Fuck, Din,” you yell out as he sucks on your clit, “Maker- I could get used to this.” You squeeze his cock a little harder, changing the pace from fast to slow. Wiping your thumb across the tip and gathering up the pre-cum to taste on your fingers. He groans as you let him, bringing your fingers up to mouth and licking them clean before gripping his cock again. “Going to suck your cock again after this, you taste so good, baby.”
Din groans and sucks on your clit harder, pushing his tongue against it and releasing it to lick it and suck it back into his mouth to start the entire process over again. He could get used to this too. Eating your pussy every night and having you on his cock.
“Diiiiiiinnnnnn,” you moan, over and over as he works magic on your clit. You stroke his cock over and over as his hips stutter, “Gonna c-cum.”
He pulls away just to gasp out, “me too.” Before he’s reattaching his lips to your clit like a hungry sucker fish.
“Din, Din, Din,” you chant his name over and over like a sacred prayer, pumping his cock until he’s spurting out thick ropes of cum, cum that you’ve desperate to scoop up and lick from your fingers. You feel your pussy clench down around nothing as your orgasm pulses through you, soaking his face with your arousal as he continues his delicious assault on your bundle of nerves.
You stopped stroking his cock, too focused on your own pleasure but you squeeze him. Making him pulse as his balls draw up against his body again.
“Din,” you pant one last time, as he grunts beneath you. You feel his cock twitching in your hands, clearly desperate for more release, and you resume your strokes. Milking him free of his pleasure and loving the way it pants your skin. Your fingers, wrists and arms are covered in his cum. All of it begging to be licked clean.
Letting go of your clit, Din groans your name as you stroke his cock and milk it of every drop of his release.
The second he stops cumming, you gently let it go and start cleaning it from your skin. Moaning at the taste and humming in content as you swallow it all down. “You taste delicious, Din.”
His cock is still hard but he’s not desperate to be inside you. The fire in his veins nearly burned away and it will only take once more before it’s all done. “You taste good, Mesh’la.” He praises roughly. “Could taste you everyday and be a happy man.”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” you say with a giggle. “It’s wearing off, I think, it doesn’t burn as badly but I think I can go again. You wanna fuck my mouth or my pussy this time, baby?”
“Is your pussy too sore?” He asks, knowing he’s been rough with it.
“I can take you again, I’m definitely going to be feeling you for a while, but I'm not complaining.”
“Why don’t you ride me then?” He asks, stroking your hip. “You can kiss me this time.”
“Perfect,” you say, wasting no time and getting into position and sinking down on him again. You press your lips against his and start to rock your hips, the ache between your legs getting drowned out with pleasure as he matches your pace.
"Shit, shit, fuck,  you are so tight?" Din groans in surprise. "How are you still so tight? We've been fucking for hours." He doesn't stop touching you, anywhere and everywhere he can while you ride him, stroking your back, your hips, sweeping his hands up to your breasts. Greedy for that skin to skin contact now that he's not quite as focused on cumming. "Kiss me, mesh'la." He begs.
You immediately press your lips to his, and moan into his mouth. His hands feel perfect on you, they explore your body with ease as you rock up and down, chasing relief once more around his cock.
This time is less frantic. It’s slower and almost more intimate. It’s almost like you are making love.
“Need you to cum,” you murmur against his lips, exhaustion taking its toll on your fucked out body, as you rock your hips slowly. His thumb pressed up against your clit as you chase some friction
“I will.” He promises. “After you, Mesh’la.”
You move your hips just a little faster, still keeping the pace slow and intimate. His thumb circles your clit perfectly as you grind down on him, cunning with a soft moan of his name, clamping down around him and relishing the groans of pleasure he fills your ear with. “Cum for me, Din,” you plead, as you can come back down.
Now that he feels your entire body melt, he knows the pollen has worked completely out of your system. “Good girl.” He grunts, rocking his hips as he wraps his arms around you. “I’m gonna fill you up again.”
“Please,” you beg, needing to feel his release. “Please, Din.”
He doesn't rush, knowing that you have to be exhausted at this point. Only his ability to go beyond his limits allows him to keep rocking his hips up. As soon as he cums, he knows he will pass out to sleep for a good while. You are almost asleep as he fucks you.
You sink your face into the crook of his neck, unsure how you’re going to find the strength to pull yourself out of bed and make your way home. Rocking your hips more and more, his release clearly moments away, you ride him harder, determined to give him every bit of his pleasure.
"Fuck." He groans and thrusts up one more time to bury himself deep. Throbbing again and feeling your walls grip him tight when he starts to spill inside of you again. Groaning your name quietly as he fills you. Feeling the heat and need of the pollen falling away with the last pulse of his orgasm. 
“Din,” you murmured into his skin, “Tha-thank you.” Exhaustion rumbles in your joints, everything aches, but everything feels worth it when you’re wrapped up in his arms.
"Sleep, mesh'la." He hums, his hand sliding up and down your back gently. He's still inside you and doesn't want to pull out right now. He wants to sleep inside you. "I know you are exhausted."
You hum happily into the crook of his neck, letting him move you slightly and wrapping his arms around you. “Goodnight, Din.” 
Sleep comes easier than it has in months, safely pulling you into slumber as he gently rubs your back and holds you tight to him.
Sometime during the night, Din wakes up. opening his eyes and letting his vision adapt to the darkness. He's softened and is barely inside you but it was probably the most relaxed and the best sleep that he's ever had. Possibly in his entire life. Reaching up, Din gently unties the blindfold that is still firmly over your eyes. He's decided that he wants you to see him. Or have the choice if you wanted him to turn on the lights. Now he just holds you, waiting for you to wake up.
Waking up, you hum contentedly in his arms, nuzzling your nose into his warm skin. The fact he’d removed your blindfold not fully registered yet as you wish him a ‘good morning.’ It’s only as you pull back and the light hits your eyelids that you realize the blindfold is off. “Din,” you say quietly, “Is it ok to open my eyes?”
"Opening your eyes comes with consequences, mesh'la." He admits quietly. "I am not allowed to let anyone see my face. Or I become darmanda." He explains. "I would no longer be Mandalorian."
“What do you want me to do?” You ask, before pressing your lips against his, “Tell me.”
"There is a way that you can see me and I am still Mandalorian." He tells you, slightly nervous about what you would think. It's crazy, but he couldn't stop thinking about it when he woke up. 
“Tell me,” you repeat, “If you want to.”
"If you are my riduur....you can see my face without any consequences."
“Riduur?” You repeat slowly, “What is that?”
“Spouse.” He whispers the Basic word and waits for your reaction.
“Oh,” you say quietly, before bringing your hands up to his chin and gripping it gently. “Riduur,” you repeat, loving the way it sounds, “You could see me as yours one day?”
“You would be mine then.” He tells you. “If you want.”
“I want to be yours,” you say against his lips.
“Then open your eyes, Mesh’la.” He murmurs softly. “You can look at me before we say our vows.”
You kiss him first, pressing your lips firmly against his before pulling back and slowly opening your eyes. Staring deeply into his brown eyes and feeling a smile spread across your face as you take in his features. “Gorgeous,” you say quietly, before letting your fingertips gently run across his face.
His eyes softly and his lips part when your fingers drag across them. He’s been touched by Grogu but this is different. “Pleasant enough? Or should I put my helmet back on?” He jokes self-consciously.
“You’re perfect,” you say honestly, “I can’t believe you’d want me. You’re gorgeous.”
“You are mesh’la, it is Mando’a for beautiful.” He hums, smiling up at you.
“Mesh’la,” you repeat, “You are mesh’la, Din.”
Biting his lip, he says, “repeat after me. Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde.”
“Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde,” you say as clearly as you can, eyes still focused on his as you do so.
Din grins. “It is our vows.” He explains. “It means - We are one when together, we are one when parted, we share all, we will raise warriors."
“We are one.” Taking his hand you bring it to your lips and place a small kiss on it. “Yesterday took an unexpected turn… But I’m so glad I picked that flower.”
He snorts and shakes his head. “Good thing I wasn’t secretly a Gungan under my helmet.” He teases.
You giggle back at him before pulling him in for another kiss, “I don’t think I’m going to be able to walk normally for the next few days, you realize that right?”
“That’s to be expected.” Din flashes you a dirty grin. “Make sure you tell them that when we go to Mandalore.”
“So every time you fuck me, I’m going to be feeling it for days?” You ask with a raised eyebrow.
“Not every time, but when you’re fucking to stay alive, I’ll make sure you feel it.” He chuckles, wrapping his arms around you and grinning up at you. “You can pick those flowers anytime you want….riduur.”
“I might just have to do that,” you giggle, “Thank you for saving my life, Din.”
“I think I’ve gotten a pretty good reward.” Din hums. He had settled here for Grogu and it was a nice little place, maybe a little lonely since he’s not so busy, but now he has a feeling he will never be lonely again. Not with you by his side.
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tommysversion · 1 year
Note
I see you're asking for smutty Din requests. May I suggest you my favorite?
Breeding Kink Dom!Din?? 👀
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[[ Anon!! I’m so sorry this took so long, it’s literally been in my drafts/WIPs for like?? Three?? Weeks??? But I finally managed to finish it and I hope you like it!!! ]]
CWs: smut / literally very little plot / established relationship / daddy kink if you squint / breeding kink / soft dom Din / praise kink / unsafe sex / oral sex (f!receiving) / spicy language / religious undertones (may be considered blasphemous?) /
——
Din has no idea what the hell has come over him. Normally he’s the epitome of a gentleman; kind, soft spoken, honourable, respectful. Everything a man should be, everything he was raised to be. Everything the Creed teaches. The way he’s currently thinking and feeling? Is the very opposite.
He’s been having these dark thoughts all day. Not dark as in cruel, or evil. Dark as in sinful. Dark as in something forbidden. And it’s all your goddamn fault. Not that you know it, of course. No, you have no idea what you’re doing to him, and that makes it all the worse.
It’s the way you play at swords with the foundlings. The way you are so quick to repair torn tunics or bandage scraped knees. The way you always make sure to bring back cakes and sweets for each child whenever adventure calls Din and yourself away from the covert. Much of what little money you have, you spend on the children, asking nothing in return. You don’t even get to see them smile; most of the children are old enough to have spoken the Creed. This doesn’t seem to bother you either; you smile enough for all of them, beam bright like the sun at the shrieks of joy that are passed through the foundlings whenever you open your backpack, hands full of treats, treasures spilling into eager smaller hands like a rainbow.
You are not Mandalorian, but the way you treat the children, the way you smile so easily, speak so respectfully - especially when asking a question about their culture - has endeared you to his people. Made you one of them, without being one of them.
The Creed teaches to be selfless. To be humble. To not want, not for selfish reasons. To want, to covet, is a sin, a transgression. And yet, he’s only human.
It’s not the first time the thought has crossed his mind. Only, before, he was able to push it away. To dismiss it as a fanciful, fleeting thought alone. It’s harder to ignore, seeing you like this. Why not admit it? The sight of you, surrounded by children, taking on that naturally maternal role, has made him want. Has made him wonder what you would be like if the child was his. His and yours. Made between you and stardust.
Once he’s let the thought in, it won’t go away. It begins curious, like that, but over the days becomes darker. Less curious, more lecherous. More sinful. Until it comes to where he currently stands, certain he’s going half mad with need and desire for you.
You’re completely oblivious to the battle raging in his head, folding some freshly laundered blankets, bent over to put them in the carved wooden chest at the foot of your shared bed, giving him a fantastic view of your ass in the soft leather leggings you’d picked up a dozen market trips ago. The view definitely doesn’t help things, at all, only suffices to make him even harder in his own snugly fitted pants.
He can’t go on like this, sinful and dishonourable or not.
He waits until you’ve set the blanket down, closed the chest, before he sneaks up on you; it’s easier to be stealthy without all his beskar on, each piece neatly set aside on velvet cloth on shelves hewn into the rock of the wall. He presses up against you, wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you flush against him.
“Is everything alright?” You ask; you’re used to him being quiet. Din is a man of few words, but there’s something off about his demeanour. You’re worried about him, he realises.
“Everything is fine. More than fine, really.” He reassures you, almost rushes to soothe you because he can’t stand the thought of you worrying about him when it’s unnecessary.
You lean back into him, comforted by the reassuring solidness of his touch, the feeling of his hands on your waist.
“Oh. I just thought… you’ve been quieter than usual and… I thought maybe I’d… done something you didn’t approve of?” You chewed your lip, waiting for the disappointment to appear. You were so certain you had done something wrong.
“What could you possibly have done wrong?” It concerns him, the level of worry you’re displaying. He knows rejoining the covert has been a change for you, but surely nobody’s making you feel unwelcome?
“I thought… maybe it’s not allowed… to spoil the foundlings like I do? Maybe it was some cultural thing you were too polite to tell me?”
He can’t help but laugh, relieved that that’s what your fear stems from.
“Not at all, love. Most of the children don’t have parents, and it’s not something many of our adults would consider. You haven’t done anything wrong.”
“I just thought… I felt you watching me, and I…”
His arms tighten around you, the ache in his chest matching the ache in his cock; his hands caress your waist, touching gently.
“I wasn’t watching you because I disapprove.” Din assured you, pressing a soft kiss to your neck. “I was watching you because I like seeing you happy.”
He pauses, considering for a moment, fighting those dark thoughts and losing.
“And because I wonder what you’d be like as a mother.” The words fall from his mouth before he can stop them. Not that he wants to stop them. For a moment though, he’s afraid he might have scared you, so he turns you round and leans down to kiss you before you can say anything.
You lean right into him, stand on your toes to reach him, and that’s enough to break any resolve he has, any concern or care. Never mind that it’s a sin, never mind that he shouldn’t be showing you his face, much less desiring you the way he does. If Bo can show the entire damn covert her face, then he can show you his. That’s his rationality at this point.
He’s too far gone to care, lifting you up into his arms to get you closer to him. He’s running on impulse now, and he knows it, but he’s no longer interested in holding back. Beneath his honourable demeanour, his gentlemanly behaviour, there’s a dark streak, and it wants out.
You wrap your arms around his shoulders, holding onto him, thighs locked loosely around his waist. It’s so rare that you get to see his face, so you can’t help staring at him, memorising every little detail. Din loves that about you, loves how respectful you are, how you never push his boundaries. You’d never ask him to show you his face, leaving it entirely up to him to decide; you’ve never once pushed the issue, loved him long before he finally showed you what he looks like.
He carries you the few steps to the bed, sets you down on it gently. You kick off your shoes, let him pull those sinfully tight leather pants down, before you lean up and tug his shirt off. You’re just about feeling smug when he catches your wrists, big hands wrapped around them, placing your hands at your sides.
Something in his gaze keeps them there. You’re used to seeing nothing but gentleness in his eyes, but there’s a burning desire there now that intrigues you. Makes you want to obey.
You let him pull your shirt up over your head, toss it aside, heated by the intensity of the way he looks at you, immediately returning your hands to where he placed them. The heavy boots and the pants he wears come off next, and then he’s laying you down, pressing the heat and muscle of his body against yours, kissing you like he’s starving.
Maybe he is. You know that before you, he didn’t particularly bother with intimacy when it comes to sex. His knowledge of sex was hard, fast, fully clothed, with no real attachment to it. Which is fine, there’s nothing wrong with that. You also know that he’s starving for affection. For touch. And you usually get to be on the receiving end.
He takes his time kissing you, knows it isn’t something he gets to do often, knows that even though you don’t say anything about it, you want it more often than he can give. He loves that about you; that you may not be Mandalorian, you may not understand the Creed, but you respect it. Respect what it means to him. That means more to him than he can ever articulate.
So yes. He takes his time. Kisses your mouth until your lips are bruised and swollen from his attention, but you love every second of it. He pulls away from you slowly, watches the way you look up at him through half-lidded eyes, lips still parted for him.
“What’s gotten into you?” You ask, but Din knows it isn’t a rebuke. He can tell by the way you’re looking at him, by the way your legs are spread for him, the way you’re fidgeting on the bed beneath him. It’s not a rebuke. It’s desire.
He doesn’t answer. Lets you run your fingers up and down his solid arms for a moment, before he pins your wrists above your head, one at a time, holds them there with one big hand.
You don’t question him again, but he can see approval and desire in your gaze, a flicker of understanding.
“No more questions.” It’s an order, albeit given in a soft tone. “Keep your hands right there for me, there’s a good girl.”
He releases your wrists, but you don’t move, won’t until he tells you to, remaining perfectly still as he kisses his way down your body, scarred hands settling on your thighs, keeping them spread for him as he looks up at you.
“So wet…” he’s talking more to himself than to you, but you still shiver slightly at the words, at the expression on his face as he stares at you, just for a moment longer, before he leans in, buries his face in your cunt.
You’re already wet, wet enough that he was able to see - and comment on - it. But it’s not enough for Din. He wants you soaked and begging for his cock by the time he’s through with you, wants his beard and the sheets absolutely drenched.
If you thought he was kissing you like he was starving, it was nothing in comparison to this. He keeps his hands firmly clamped on your shaking thighs, preventing you from moving, as his tongue laves at you, kissing and sucking at your clit, making you wriggle and moan beneath him.
You’re desperate to wind your fingers into his hair, but you know if you try, he’ll stop, and that’s the last thing you want.
It’s only when you start literally dripping onto his tongue that he relents, pulls away from you. He doesn’t even bother wiping his mouth, beard soaked with your slick as he moves back up, slaps the thick head of his cock against your cunt deliberately, teasing.
“You ready for me, baby?” He knows the answer already, likes the way you bite your lip and chew on it, nodding.
He leans down and kisses you, sucks your lower lip out from between your teeth.
“Answer me.”
There it is again, that faint hint of a demand, the tone so soft that you can’t help but comply.
“Yes, please…”
You know how to answer him, even though you’ve never seen him like this before, those dark eyes blazing like liquid obsidian as he surveys you, spread out for him, so needy and willing.
“There we go.” He lines himself up, slides into your soaked cunt; it’s not as smooth as he hoped, he’s too big and you’re too tight, and you can’t help but wince slightly at the feeling of him stretching you out, but he settles, pressed to the hilt inside you.
“There you go…” He almost moans it, keeps your thighs spread, hands moving your legs, bending your knees so your ankles are by his shoulders.
You know this position, realise why he’s doing it. It doesn’t scare you. The opposite, in fact. He realises it a moment later when he feels your cunt tighten around him.
“Oh, you like this, huh?” He drags himself out of you, slow, almost to the tip before he slams back into you, drawing a scream from your parted lips.
“Can I touch you now?” You gasp it out when you can breathe again.
He surveys you for a moment; the way you’re pressed beneath him, knees up by your tits, eyes heavy with need for him. How much better for him can he ask you to be?
“Yes,” he agrees, dragging himself out and pressing in deep again. It’s all the permission you need, hands immediately jumping to the solid muscle of his biceps, clinging to him as he slams into you.
He’s usually so gentle, so careful, but this is completely different. Wild, desperate. He’s not holding back, has no interest in being careful tonight, slamming into your tight little hole, moaning the entire time.
“Fuck, baby, so tight…” He nuzzles into your neck, keeps your legs firmly in the position he wants them in, pressing deep with each thrust, hard and fast.
“Feel so good, gonna fill you up, fuck my baby into this sweet little cunt…”
It’s filthy, you’ve never heard him say such things, but you love it, love how roughly he’s handling you, how wild and frantic he is, how your body responds to him. You can feel yourself tightening around him, milking his incredible cock as he drills into you.
“Please, please…” you can’t say much more than that word, repeated over and over as he fucks you, so hard the bed shakes.
“Keep begging me for it,” he moans it into your ear, one hand leaving your leg to fist into the bedsheets, holding himself up, bracing himself.
You drag your nails up his back, back arching up as best you can in the position he has you in.
“Please… need it… need you so bad…”
You’re overwhelmed, he’s so big inside you, so rough, not making any move to slow down even as he feels you getting closer and closer to the edge.
“Yeah? You gonna make me a daddy, baby?” He presses another kiss into your neck, shudders when he feels you tilt your hips to get him deeper, a gasp tearing from your throat when he hits your sweet spot.
“Please…”
You can’t form words, not when he’s pounding into your sweet spot with every thrust, saying such filthy, sinful things. You can’t hold on any longer, and he knows it, fucks you harder and faster until you’re writhing on the bed beneath him, tight, perfect little pussy tightening around him, keeping him in deep, massaging his cock as you climax.
“Fuck, baby, you look so pretty when you cum for me…” Din loves seeing you like this, body arched in a perfect mating press as he drills into you.
Any other time and he’d put you on all fours, press your face down into the bed and fuck you til you screamed yourself hoarse for him.
Maybe later. This time, anyway, he wants to see the look on your face when he fills you, the glazed look in your eyes when his cum leaks out of you. Not that he plans on letting that happen. He’s going to fuck you so full of his seed that you’re overflowing with it, but this first time? He doesn’t want to spill a drop.
Your nails keep raking at his back, pulling him close against you, and it’s that that urges him on, the way you’re looking at him, so desperately needy for him.
He could get addicted to this, so far removed from the slow and gentle and passionate intimacy you usually share.
“This all I needed to do to get you drunk on my cock?” He presses you down harder into the mattress with just his hips, relying on his strength.
You whimper in answer, clench around him again.
“Dirty girl,” he mutters, “you want this just as much as I do, huh? Bet you’ve been desperate for me to fuck you like this, put a baby in you.”
You don’t answer; can’t answer, because his words and his pace drag another climax out of you, surprising both of you. He fucks you through it, pace increasingly more rough and erratic.
“That’s it, baby. That’s it, fuck, I’m so close…”
He has to brace himself on the bed, fist clenching in the sheets as the other holds you steady, in place as he presses deep, grinds his hips roughly against yours, ensuring that every single drop of hot, thick seed fills you, stays deep inside you.
“Fuck, like that…” he pants, watching the way your eyes blaze with arousal and love as he comes back to himself, slowly, second by second.
He’ll have to repent later, ask for forgiveness for his sins, but right now? Right now he couldn’t care less, the hand that isn’t curled into the sheets caressing your - for now - still flat abdomen.
It won’t stay that way for long. Not if he has anything to do with it.
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bi-writes · 5 months
Text
again and again | the mandalorian
he comes when i call. every single time.
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type: one-shot pairing: the mandalorian x afab!fem!reader word count: 4.3k (quick work while i try and finish the 10k+ monster in my drafts) warnings: mature language and content, mature written sexual content, 🔞⚠️ (warnings under the cut) summary: the mandalorian is not very nice when he's jealous. but he can be nice to you. complete masterlist
concept art chosen: "envy" (2007), "jealousy" (1895)
detailed warnings: 18+ smut, size kink (reader is described as smaller than the mandalorian, able to be moved by him easily), possessive!mandalorian, soft!dom!mandalorian -> read at your own discretion
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You had been here before.
Not this cantina, exactly. Not this planet. But you had been here before, in an outfit this small, in a room much too loud, feeling the glare of eyes you didn’t even know the fucking color of.
You were not quiet about your presence here. If you were being honest with yourself, you left a messy trail to your whereabouts in hopes a certain bounty hunter would follow your breadcrumbs. You had a feeling he would not be able to resist. You had a feeling that he would get a whiff of you, and not be able to stop himself from getting a peek, a glance, a taste of even just a strand of your hair or a trace of your footprint in that big, shiny helmet of his.
You smoothed out the front of your skirt as you shuffled your way to the bar. You had to elbow a few organics out of the way, but you finally had the droid in your sight, and you banged your palm against the bar counter for a refill.
If you were being even more honest with yourself, you would admit you dressed up just for him. You were in a bright red two-piece, a short mini skirt with a matching long-sleeve top made of shiny, geometric leather. Your midriff was on display, leaving little to the imagination, and you paired it with matching leather boots and an exposed thigh holster with your favorite blaster strapped to it. You wanted to put your hair up, but you had a feeling the style would only get in your way tonight.
Besides. He liked it when you had your hair down.
You hopped onto a barstool as the droid poured you your refill. You sat up straight, putting the straw to your lips and sucking it down almost entirely, letting the sugary alcohol seep into you and warm you from the inside out. You swung your feet and giggled to yourself, loving the feeling of his attention. It sent a lick of adrenaline shooting down your spine. Your toes curled, and your nipples hardened under your top, and you hadn’t even laid eyes on him yet.
“Need another?”
A warm voice motioned for the droid to give you another generous pour, and you smiled brightly at the unsuspecting human taking up space on your right side. He was wearing a uniform of sorts, dark and pressed, and he had a dazzling smile. Pearly white teeth, curly locks, and a sweet, innocent face. He was adorable. Too bad you didn’t care much for adorable.
“Oh, I’ll take whatever you’ll give me,” you laughed, nodding as he put a few credits down for you. After another fruity refill, you were finding yourself being pulled off your seat, soft hands gripping your bare waist as he tried to coax you onto the dancefloor. Your flirtatious banter was less than subtle; you knew he had so many gadgets adorned in that helmet, and if he was going to hide in the shadows away from your eyes, then you would give him a reason to come out.
Those fingers around your waist stiffened suddenly. Instead of a warm touch guiding you to move, you felt the change your stranger’s demeanor. His palms went clammy, and he went rigid at your side. You licked your lips, your eyes shutting for just a moment as you smelled that familiar edge—blaster residue, leather, iron and something dark and tangy and his.
“Come to ruin my fun?” You asked over your shoulder. You couldn’t see well in the dark of the cantina, but the Mandalorian was a ghostly, towering figure, nonetheless. He caged you into the bar, and you realized then that one of his hands was occupied—his blaster aimed right at the boy’s middle. “Maker, you just can’t help yourself!”
You stepped in front of the blaster, the point of it pressed into your bare stomach, and his helmet tipped down just enough. You would described the stiffness of his movements as unamused. He drew the blaster back immediately, away from you, but the damage had been done. The boy behind you fled before you could blink, and you huffed out an angry sigh, glaring up at the Mandalorian. You opened your mouth to say something, but he holstered his blaster, and with that same hand, he gripped your waist tight, yanking you forward until your middle pressed against his. Your bare stomach pressed against his utility belt, soft breasts squished up against that cool beskar. You fought the chill that ran through you, letting your eyelids flutter a bit as you fell into that comfortable headspace that could only be had right here, with him, in his arms. You lit up inside, fighting a grin.
Yes, yes, yes—
“You’re taunting me,” the Mandalorian growled finally. The edge in his voice should have scared you, but it enticed you instead. Lit a fire under your feet. The Mandalorian was nothing short of the being you craved the most, and every time you set eyes on him, you were reminded how much of an effect he had on you. He was all-consuming, and you were a bunny in a trap.
“Bite me,” you snapped, but a smile broke out on your face, nonetheless. You tilted your head to the side, standing up on your toes. Even in your heels, you craned to be level with him. You tucked your fingers into his belt, pulling him that much closer. “No, really…bite me.”
You let out a light giggle of surprise when the hand on your waist slid down to grasp you under your thigh tight, the gloves doing nothing to cool the heat of his touch. One of his hands reached to smooth over the handle of your blaster, a pretty little silver gift that he had given you some time ago. The sight of it strapped on your person didn’t go unnoticed; he was rather excited with the view, if the warmth against your thigh had anything to say about it.
“Maker, you missed me, didn’t you?” You cooed softly, leaning forward to kiss the beskar of his pauldron. The tone of your voice was almost pitiful, a childish reassurance that sent a pang of annoyance straight through him. “It’s okay…” You put your hand over his on your thigh, dragging it up until it slipped under your skirt, guiding him to touch you. “I missed you, too, baby.” You closed your eyes, kissing now just under the jaw of his helmet. “I knew I could get you here by leaving something along the way for you…wearing something pretty and shiny just like you…” You mewled softly as he kneaded the flesh of your ass in one large hand. “…getting boys to buy me drinks…”
Bunny in a trap, bunny in a trap—
“You’re coming with me,” he said simply. It wasn’t a question, it was a demand. An order. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pouting just a little.
“Don’t be mad,” you whined. “Or jealous. If you think for one second that I have eyes for anyone else, you’re blind.” Your fingers rubbed gently along the nape of his neck. He wore too many layers for you to feel those soft curls you adored pulling on. “If you weren’t such a stubborn piece of work, maybe you’d let me call you my boyfriend—”
A disgruntled sound left him, and his grip on you tightened. You met his visor for just a moment before realizing if you wanted any conversation of substance, you needed to get him alone, in private. You liked playing games, but the Mandalorian seemed as if he wasn’t in the mood. Most times he found you this way, he let hands wander just a tad longer so he could take pleasure in breaking their noses.
You took his free hand in yours, turning and guiding him out of the cantina. The crowd parted for you immediately, patrons not wanting to bump into the armor accidently. When you were outside in the quiet, you moved to the alleyway, covered in privacy by tall walls and dark light.
“I-I don’t know why you get so mad at me—” You started, tucking yourself into his side. He was hard to cuddle against with the rigid layers, but you wanted to be close to him. “You always get so jealous, but at the slightest whiff of commitment, you run the other way…” You looked up at him, right into the visor, hoping to find his eyes. “I miss you when you go,” you whispered. “I miss you all the time. I know what you do is dangerous, but Din—” His head tilted sharply at the use of his name, “—I miss you, and I know you miss me, too.”
You stood up on your toes and cupped the cheeks of his helmet in your hands, kissing the space where you thought his lips might be. You smiled, eyes glossy with sadness, and you sighed with relief when you felt two gloved hands slip up your short skirt again and squeeze your ass firmly, possessively. You adored having his undivided attention, adored being at the center of it. Seeing only yourself in the reflection of his helmet brought more peace to you than he could ever know. The Mandalorian was always so cool and calm and collected, and you loved that he lost complete sense of it around you.
“Say you missed me, Din,” you murmured. “Say you were jealous tonight and that you missed me.”
The smile on your face never left. The Mandalorian thought you could not look more precious than right now, waiting eagerly for him to murmur in your ear the praise you so deserved.
“I was jealous,” the Mandalorian admitted, slipping one gloved hand between your thighs and guiding those fingers against the seam of the lace there. You swallowed a bit, knowing that he would be able to feel how wet you’ve been for the last hour. “I was jealous, and I missed you.”
You broke out into a bigger smile, giggling with delight and moving to take his hands out from under your skirt to hold, but he held tight. He chuckled darkly, shaking his head slightly.
“No…” He manhandled you, turning you around and pressing you up against the alley wall chest-first and caging you in with the broadness of his figure. It happened so fast, and your heartbeat echoed in your ears as you tried to keep up with him. “I’m taking what I deserve, right here, right now.”
You hummed softly, your body turning liquid in his grasp. There was no place safer, no place more tranquil and perfect, than in his arms. It didn’t matter to you that you were out in the open, that anyone could walk by and see you. The Mandalorian would never let anything happen to you. You were safe, always. You feared nothing except for losing him, perhaps.
“You’re such a good girl,” he muttered in your ear. His modulated voice was honey in your ears. You leaned back against him, your ass pressing against the front of him eagerly. “Always letting me have what I want, no matter where we are, huh?”
You nodded, reaching up and wrapping an arm around his neck, the other hand bracing yourself against the wall. “I’m safe with you, Din,” you whispered. “Always have been, always will be. Not afraid of anything when I’m with you.” You reached down and slid your skirt up until it was bunched around your hips. “And I’m yours, whether you want to admit it or not—” You moved your hips at an angle, the hardness of him now pressed against your ass, and he stiffened, his grip on your middle bruising. “Yours to do whatever you want with…whenever you want.”
The Mandalorian grit his teeth under the helmet. It was infuriating how much of an effect you had over him, and he couldn’t even punish you for it because you were being so good. You were saying all of the right things, talking sweetness into his bones, making him feel that hot, scorching satisfaction of his claim over you and everything you were. There was no need to convince you that you were his, there was no need to remind you; in fact, it was you that was begging for him to do the one thing he had refused all this time—to simply acknowledge you.
You were so pliant. Doe-eyed and soft, gentle and easy, so small and moldable. The Mandalorian felt a warmth in his chest every time he towered over you. He was big and bad and rough around all of the edges, but nothing ever seemed to cut you. His touch only warmed you from the inside out, only had you gasping and making such pretty noises.
“Just…promise me one thing,” you said over your shoulder, meeting the visor with your eyes. He said nothing, but he smoothed a hand over your waist and squeezed you there to encourage you to continue. “Tell me I’m yours, Din—” You rested the back of your head against his shoulder, closing your eyes. He brought that hand up to wrap around your throat, but his touch was more soothing than anything. “Please,” you begged softly. “I need to hear you say it.”
The Mandalorian sighed deeply, his other hand moving to unzip his flight suit.
“If you want to know why I don’t want you to call me your kriffing boyfriend—” he spat, shaking his head, and you gasped as you felt his cock hard and leaking against your back, “—you should know it’s because that title is insulting.” You whimpered as he gripped the lace of your panties and pulled, ripping it apart easily. The delicate fabric was no match for those hands, and you squirmed under his grasp. The show of strength was enough to send another wave of need through you, wetting the place between your thighs even more. With no panties to soak, you could already feel yourself dripping slowly. “I’m not your boyfriend. I’m not your lover.” You moaned loudly as he notched himself at your entrance, hissing as he felt you immediately drenching him with your arousal. You were so wet, it was almost pathetic, but this was your Mandalorian, and by the chuckle that left him, you knew there was only satisfaction and need in the air, no room for embarrassment.
“I am yours, and you are mine—” His voice was muffled by your cry when he pushed into you, meeting little resistance as he pressed his hips into you until there was no space between you. You were tight, but so, so slick, sucking him in and squeezing him as another rush of slickness coated him. He groaned lowly as he felt you, realizing now just how much he had missed being so close to you, inside of you, intertwined and all around you. He hoisted you up in his arms, easily maneuvering you until you were right where he wanted you, full and squirming and drunk on the feeling of him. “—I could devour you here, and I would still be hungry, do you understand that?”
His voice in it of itself was enough to send you into another wave of pleasure. Deep, crackling static enveloping the roughness and neediness that he spoke of. It wasn’t a secret between the two of you the amount of times he had brought you over the edge with just his words, talking in your ear as your shaking fingers abused the soft, wet center of yourself.
My sweet girl. My perfect girl. Pretty, pretty girl, all mine, all mine, all mine to look at, all mine to touch, all mine to eat—
You moaned softly, clawing at him from behind as you tried to gain any kind of stability, but the Mandalorian was using you how he pleased, not giving you any sort of control. All you could do was cry and whimper and beg for more as he used the wall for leverage, fucking up into you. You managed to grab onto his forearms, digging into the clothed flesh there, feeling the pulse of him.
“What you mean to me…” He let out sharp groans, savoring the soft cries from you as he watched you take him so well. Your legs were shaking, your toes barely touching the ground as you tried to be coherent enough to say something back, but you were rendered speechless. There were tears forming at the corners of your eyes, the piercing feeling of the Mandalorian filling you and taking over you and consuming you almost too much to bear. He was so big in so many ways. Big enough to hold you, big enough to crush you in his arms, big enough to split you in two and put you right back together with those skilled, deadly hands of his, big enough to fuck a mark into your cunt so well that you would never ever forget that he had been there. “…mean more to me than anything in this world…wanna tie you up and stow you away all for me…wanna hide you from anyone and everyone—wanna have you every minute of every day and keep you full of me—” You squeezed him hard at the very thought, “—oh, you like that, yeah? Like that thought? Like the thought of me right here, all the time?”
Fuck, he was rambling. The Mandalorian was never a man of many words. You had seen him have conversations with just a nod and shake of his head, with just that steel glare alone, but whenever he was buried inside of you, he could never stop. Sputtering, grunting, spitting—maybe this was how he grounded himself, maybe this was how he kept himself just sane enough to not completely lose his self-control while he was inside of you.
Right here, all the time—mine, mine, mine—
You nodded, your jaw loosening and falling open in a silent cry as he snapped his hips quicker. His unwavering thrusts hit you deep, and he squeezed your throat gently before lowering them to your hips, spreading you open to give him more room to take you. There was something still soft about the way the Mandalorian fucked you. It was filthy this way, out in the open where someone could catch you, but his towering figure hid you from display. He held you tight, crowding you in his warmth. He was always possessive, but never cruel, and your pleasure came before his. You thought you couldn’t be anymore wet, but one gloved hand slipped up the front of your skirt, cupping your mound to give you the heel of his glove to grind against, your clit throbbing against the leather.
Oh, fucking—Maker—more, more more—
“Din—” Did other words even exist? Why couldn’t you form a coherent sentence? The only phrase you could muster was his name. Had his cock really dwindled you down to something so simple, so pathetic? The sounds between you were flushing you with embarrassment almost. So sticky, so wet, your thighs were glistening with sweat and your sweetness, and you nearly cried when you noticed one of his gloved hands smear his fingertips with that pretty creaminess and slip just under the lip of his helmet—
Yes, yes, yes—taste me—
“I’m gonna take you away,” he babbled. He was talking, just talking to fill the space, talking to keep himself from moaning too loud or cumming too fast, “Gonna take you away from here, keep you with me, yeah?”
He cursed under his breath, his hand finding its place spreading you open better, and his tongue was warm with the tang of you. It was enough to have him canting your hips just that much more, the tip of him prodding at the softest parts of your walls.
Soft, tight—she’s so cute, look at her, nothing there but me, all me, can’t think of anything except for how good she takes it.
“Yes, Din, please—!” You begged, your hands gripping his forearms harder and nails digging in hard to hold yourself steady. “Please, please, please—wanna be with you, please…”
“Shhhh…it’s gonna be alright,” he muttered. “I’m not gonna tease you today, don’t worry…gonna give you what you need, yeah?”
You nodded, gripping onto him tighter and grinding down against his hand, feeling the dull ache in your belly become sharp and buzzing and hot. Sex with the Mandalorian was always messy, but you were soaking your bodies, the wet squelch echoing in the alley and giving the Mandalorian an audible reminder of just how cockdrunk and dizzy and absolutely crazy you were for him. If you could eat him alive, you figured you just might.
“Know you’re close, yeah?” He panted. “Give it to me. You’re mine. Need you to show me.”
You swallowed hard, shutting your eyes tight. He dropped one arm to grip your leg, hiking it up to angle himself deeper, kissing your cervix and hitting a soft spot that had your tears falling quickly down your face. He was so good at this, too good at this, hitting it again, again, again—Din—right there—please—! Sheer, rippling, hot pleasure trickled down your spine, feeling so hot that your blood ran in your ears and your legs gave out underneath you. Like always, the Mandalorian caught you, holding you up so he could pound you through your orgasm. You could hear the thick wet of your release smearing between you, reaching up to grip the back of his neck and force him close.
“Inside me, Din,” you whimpered. “Need to feel you…”
He’s so warm, he’s so big, he’s mine, I want more—
“I know, I got you—”
You relaxed when you felt him, frantic thrusts and deep grinds as his cock pulsed and emptied and branded you so tenderly. You mewled happily, nuzzling back into him. His arms wrapped tightly around your middle, holding you close, and you hummed softly. The coming down was always sweet with the Mandalorian. The way he would press you to him, no space for air between your bodies. If the Mandalorian could fuse you to his beskar, you figured he would. You would let him, if only it meant he would take whatever he needed from you always.
“Wish we could stay like this forever,” you mumbled in a daze. Your mind was still fuzzy, your vision trying to straighten itself out as it basked in the rush of sweetness and calm and utter pleasure that seeped into your very bones. He brushed your sweaty hair back and off your shoulder, letting his heartbeat steady as he held you. The Mandalorian was the only thing holding you up straight, but you knew he would not drop you. “Were you serious, Din? About taking me away?”
He pulled out of you slowly, soothing you with gentle fingers through your hair as you winced a bit. You could feel the warmth of him slowly making its way down your thighs, a familiar, aching feeling that you wished could stay.
“Yes,” he murmured. “My ship is in the landing bay. I have more than enough room for you.”
The Mandalorian carefully moved your skirt back into place, slipping the cowl out from his chest plate and draping it over your shoulders. Something fluttery and nice settled in your belly at the gesture, and you were grateful that his hands didn’t leave you, still settled against your bare midriff and squeezing there absentmindedly.
“Why now?” You asked gently. “Every…every other time I’ve asked, you…you’ve refused.” You sniffled a bit, and he brought a hand up to wipe your tears. Tender, sweet, apologetic. “You never let me come with you before. You…you always…you always leave. Why is this time different?”
The Mandalorian tucked your head into his chest, smoothing a hand down your back.
“I guess I just can’t be away from you anymore,” he said simply. He took your hand in his, but you realized quickly that you had to hold onto his arm for support as you followed him towards the landing bay. You smiled up at him as you walked.
“So…does this mean I can call you my boyfriend?” You joked, biting your lip cheekily. He reached down and gripped your ass tight, squeezing it harshly for good measure.
“No,” he clarified, but you could hear the amusement in his voice. You picked up your pace when you saw his ship in the distance. You had been on his ship before. You had enjoyed many nights there, tangled up in warm sheets and small spaces. You planned to take full advantage of your new privileges in it. Before you could make it inside, the Mandalorian tugged on your hand gently, bringing you to face him. You smiled up at him, and he kept a hand busy adjusting the fabric around your shoulders.
“I just need you to know that you didn’t have to tease me this way for me to come get you,” the Mandalorian said lowly. “I know I hadn’t given you any reason to believe that I care for you more than…” Your eyes lowered a bit, a little sheepish, but the Mandalorian cleared his throat. He put his fingers under your chin and lifted your gaze back to him. You couldn’t explain the feeling, but you knew you had his eyes on yours. “I would’ve come for you. All you had to do was ask.”
You stood up on your toes, leaning forward until you could put your forehead to his. You closed your eyes to savor the kiss, and he followed easily.
“But did you like it?” You asked playfully, holding back a laugh. You felt the tips of his fingers playing with the hem of your tiny skirt, and he let out a low hum.
Teasing, little girl.
“Yeah…I liked it.”
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2kiran · 5 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. ⪩⭔⪨
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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.”
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𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓
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bits-and-babs · 6 months
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could i be cheeky and ask for some more mandalorian 👀 preferably touch starved din
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✦ 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐍 ✦
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– KINKTOBER DAY 2: TOUCH STARVED
din djarin x reader | smut, 18+ | 1.2k words
summary: the child has been getting in the way of you and mando spending time together. after weeks without your touch, he's finally reaching his limit.
cw: f!reader, needy din, slightly ooc din to fit the theme, begging, oral (m receiving), cumming early, reference to f oral.
⇽ KINKTOBER MLIST | DAY 3: PHONE SEX ⇾
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Even a kriffing Miraluka, blind as they are, could see how badly Mando desperately wanted you to touch him. The sheer yearning that rolled from The Mandalorian in waves was enough to shift the midichlorians themselves, the fibres of the galaxy trembling whenever you were near him.
Weeks trapped inside the Crest with Mando, far too preoccupied with the tiny green gremlin to pay attention to his needs had taken its toll on the warrior's mentality. Grogu had been pulling at wires, leaving the ship static in dead space and even managed to find a button that sucked the oxygen from the hangar, resulting in a frantic struggle to restore O-Levels to baseline before your lungs shrivelled. A menace to the galaxy, you’d spent more time with your eyes glued to the tiny, green hazard than you had sleeping. 
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In turn, Mando was practically trembling with need. He’d let out a shaky sigh every time you sat beside him in the passenger seat, voice-strain evident even with the crackle of the vocoder doing its best to conceal the distress that dripped from each singular-syllable response to your questions. 
In deep space with the child finally down in his cot for a much needed sleep, Mando’s leather gloves creak with the grip he tightens around the controls of the Crest. You hear the grains scream under the pressure as you approach, glancing over the map and the coordinates Greef Karga had offered in Mando’s search for the bounty. It’s cruel, barbaric almost, but you swear you can’t see the digits, numbers far too small for you to see from this close… So you place your palm on Mando’s shoulder, leaning over him in an attempt to get a better view. 
You'd never admit it, but the way you somehow managed to touch him between the Beskar plates of his armour was completely intentional. It was a guilty pleasure, seeing the stoic bounty hunter crumble simply from the pressure of your fingers. His chest heaves, each muscle in his body stiffening under the weight of your fingers. 
Regardless of how heavy the Mandalorian’s stare was, his eyes burning into your skin from behind the tinted visor, you refuse to advance without his request. You pretend not to notice, mouthing the digits of the coordinates to yourself, squinting as though you were unable to see.
It had been weeks of this Loth Cat and Womp Rat game, and poor Mando seems to be reaching the end of his tether.
You finally feel his respove snap when you settle your hand on the nape of his neck, leaning further over his shoulder to ‘check the fuel levels of the Crest was enough to make the journey’. Your fingertips brush the bare skin between the neck of his flight-suit and the edge of his chrome helmet, and Mando nearly doubles over like he's in pain. He chokes out, and you can tell he's already hard, his cock straining against his flight suit.
"Please, please fucking touch me,” Mando’s voice sounds utterly pathetic, a far cry from the vicious warrior that blasted through whole packs of assassin droids.”I can't take it anymore, I ca-ahaaa-" he can't swallow the moan that bleeds through the vocoder when you palm his cock though his suit. You can feel the hard curve of his cock twitch against your palm, even though the thick fabric. A rough squeeze sends Mando’s head rocking back against the seat with a quiet, metallic thunk. 
“It feels like you’ve missed me,” you murmur quietly, feeling his hips jerk against your touch when your voice reaches his ears. Prickling arousal bleeds across your skin at how reactive he is, the usually stoic figure shaking himself apart under your touch.
“M–Missed you so much,” he admits, and you’re almost certain you hear the strain of his teeth from grinding them together, “Hah– Need to feel you on me, nee-d to be in you.”
Offering a soft hum of acknowledgement to his suffering, you spin his seat around slowly. His head seems loose on his shoulders, unable to hold it upright when he sees you sink to your knees in front of him. You almost feel sorry for him, watching how he frantically scrambles to free his cock for you. 
The first drag of your tongue against the arch of his shaft has Mando panic-stricken, his hands grasping the arms of the seat when his dick throbs heavily against your taste buds. 
“Fuck–” He growls, practically choking on his own voice, “C–Can’t!”
“It’s okay,” you whisper against a pulsing vein beneath his velvety skin, “We can do it again…” 
Pre-cum slips from the ruddy head of his cock at your gentle encouragement, a tortured whine rattling in Mando’s lungs. It’s so loud that you wouldn’t be surprised if the sound was bouncing inside the Beskar walls of his helmet. 
Carefully, you trace the tip of your tongue against the salty head of his cock, letting out a sharp breath when Mando takes a tight fistful of your hair. His chest is heaving, barely able to keep from slurring his words when he begs you to take him into your mouth. 
Slackening your jaw, you hum softly as you take just a few inches. Mando, in what seems like a half hearted attempt to escape the overwhelming pleasure, pushes his whole body back against the chair while choking out obscene curses. You’re so slow, trying your best not to overwhelm the poor, devastated man– but the flat of your tongue pressed against the underside of his cock and the tip nudging the back of your throat is all it takes to obliterate his self control. 
Mando sounds almost winded by the force with which he cums. His balls pull up so tight, the fingers in your hair clenching to the point your follicles scream beneath the grip. Underneath the Beskar armour, every muscle in his body flexes before the cum hits the back of your throat. Spurts of thick, salty seed paint the inside of your mouth, violent jerks of his shaft causing Mando’s head to fall backwards again, whimpering as you swallow down– swallow around him. 
“Hoh-Fuck–! Stars,” he babbles, wheezing out your name while the last of his cum drips from his cockhead. Pulling from him when his thighs finally start to seize from the overstimulation, you lean your head against Mando’s trembling knees and giggle. He looks utterly exhausted, slumped in his seat and chest heaving as he sucks oxygen into his lungs. 
“Your mouth– hah–” he wheezes out a slight laugh, so unlike the reserved Mando you met in a bar on Corellia. You’d stopped the child from running off into the crowd, and somehow found yourself with the role of babysitting him while following the bounty hunter on his adventures. “It’s so good…”
“Mhmm,” you hum in agreement, smiling to yourself at the memory of meeting the apathetic, almost grumpy chrome-man as you brush your palm across his thigh and closing your eyes to sweeten the deal, “So is yours. Put it to use and taste me?” You hear the tnk of his helmet touching the ground soon after.
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