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tremendum · 1 year

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where to start

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

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

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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 · 11 months

Text

Din Djarin: Oxytocin

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

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

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

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

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

Tell me you want this.”

“I want this.”

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

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

Word Count: 4.2k

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

Pedro Masterlist

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

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

And it had been the best month of your life.

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

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

“Together?” you questioned.

“Together,” he repeated.

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

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

Turns out, it was a stroke of fucking genius.

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

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

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

Pristine.

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

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

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

You had a feeling Din felt the same way.

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

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

Your eyes got a fierce rubbing after skimming that report.

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

I need some alone time.

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

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

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

Maker, if past you could see you now.

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

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

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

Nothing.

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

Maybe you just didn’t want to.

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

Nothing.

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

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

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

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

He muttered the same thing again.

“Mando, I can’t understand you.”

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

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

Maybe today would be that day.

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

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

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

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

A beat of silence passed between you.

“And I just...I couldn’t do it.”

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

Another beat of silence passed before he nodded.

“Why?” you questioned.

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

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

I would do the same for you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Tell me you want this.”

“I want this.”

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

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

Maker, if past you could see you now.

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

Maker.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You dug your nails in harder.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Din, what -”

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

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

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

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

“Isn’t she?” he questioned once more.

You nodded profusely. “She is.”

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

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

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

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

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

His pants became whimpers.

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

You could hear his gulp.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He said nothing, just kept breathing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Close.”

“Green?”

“Closer.”

“Blue?”

“Not quite.”

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

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

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

He hummed again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your fingers looked perfect splayed across his chest.

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

You tended to agree.

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

“Y/N -”

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

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

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

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

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

Finally.

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

Maker, if past you could see you now.

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

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

@lexloon @pauphs @enjoyyourlatte

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

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salome-c · 1 year

Text

The world is their runway.

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian spoilers #mando s3 #mando spoilers #the mandalorian s3 #din djarin #din #grogu #bo katan #bo katan kryze #star wars #sw #sw the mandalorian #salome-c gifset #salome c gifset

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starjedi86 · 2 months

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Make a wish

Summary: You and Din enjoy a peaceful night wrapped around each other’s arms.

Pairing: Din Djarin x female reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 882

Authors Note: Hi everyone! This fic was inspired by a picture I saw on Pinterest the other day. I hope you enjoy it!!

As the night progressed, Din lay in the grass outside his small cabin, his helmet resting beside him and his gaze fixed upon the twinkling stars scattered across the night sky.

Finally, he found a moment of peace and relaxation. Having to spent most of his life as a bounty hunter, always on the move and alert to any threat that might arise, he cherished this much-needed break. And now, in this quiet corner on the outskirts of Nevarro, he could finally breath freely, escaping the constant danger he was always faced.

However, despite the risks and distressing circumstances he had faced as a bounty hunter, he knew he would never regret his past. It was through that life that he had crossed paths with you, the person who had brought light and love into his life.

It had been a few years since you started dating, he couldn’t even remember how his life was before he met you. He was sure it was dark and cold, as he wasn’t used to having someone by his side. It was only when Grogu came into his life that he started to realize how much you meant to him, and that’s when he found the courage to ask you out.

Lost in his thoughts, Din didn’t realize that you were walking towards him until you settled beside him, your comforting presence in the stillness of the night. As he turned to you, a soft smile broke across his lips at the sight of your familiar and beautiful face.

Reaching out, he pulled you into his embrace, wrapping his arms around you and drawing you closer to him. Feeling the warmth of your body against his, he savored the moment, grateful for your calming and comforting company.

Leaning into him, you rested your head against his chest, listening to the soft and steady rhythm of his heartbeat as you looked at the stars. Taking his hand in yours, you gently intertwined your fingers with his, feeling safe in his presence.

After a moment, Din finally broke the silence, raising his hand to stroke your hair. “Is the kid finally sleeping” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper, his breath warm against your head.

You nodded softly, a small smile forming on your lips as you thought about that small little cutie that managed to steal your heart. “Yes, it took some time, but he’s out like a light.”

Din exhaled a quiet sigh of relief as his expression softened, a playful hint of amusement appearing in his eyes. “Seems like he has started to enjoy your company more lately,” he remarked, a gentle teasing tone in his voice.

You shook your head and chuckled softly, a tender smile gracing your face. “I don’t think he prefers me over you,” you said, reaching out to gently touch his cheek. “You’re his father, Din. You’ll always be his favorite person in the entire galaxy.”

Din’s heart swelled with affection at your words, reassured by your understanding and support. As he gazed at you, an intense sense of gratitude washed over him, knowing that he was blessed to have you by his side.

"Thank you, cyar'ika,” Din said softly, his voice filled with affection as he gazed into your eyes. "For everything you’ve done for me, for us."

You smiled back at him, warmth spreading through your chest at his words. "You don't have to thank me, Din," you replied. "I'm just happy to be here with you."

In response, Din gently squeezed your hand three times, a silent declaration of his love for you—a gesture you both had used since the begging of your relationship. It was a way of saying “I love you” without needing to say it out loud, a silent promise that you’ll always be there for each other, no matter the circumstances life brought.

You returned the gesture, matching his action with three gentle squeezes of your own, your heart overflowing with love and affection for the man you were lucky to call yours.

As you both gazed up at the stars, a shooting star streaked across the sky, causing you to gasp in excitement. “Look!” you exclaimed, shaking his arm with your hand. “Make a wish!”

You closed your eyes eagerly, a smile tugging at your lips as you made your silent wish. Din watched you with love, a small chuckle escaping his lips at your enthusiasm.

When you opened your eyes again, you met Din’s gaze, a curious expression on your face. “What?” you asked, raising your eyebrows in confusion.

Din's smile widened as he shook his head, his eyes shining with affection. "Wanna know something? I don't need to make any more wishes," he said softly. "Because everything I ever wished for is right here with me." He gestures towards you and the child, his heart overflowing with love for the two of you.

Touched by Din’s words, you leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on his cheek, a silent expression of the love and affection you had for him. You couldn’t be happier, the love you had for this man grew stronger day by day, and you knew that he felt the same way. After all, you were lucky to have him by your side.

#din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x you #din djarin imagine #the mandalorian #the mandalorian imagine #din djarin one shot #mando #mando x reader #pedro pascal x reader #mando fic #the mandalorian x reader #din #star wars #star wars the mandalorian

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sublimecatgalaxy · 1 year

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Fluffy Din Djarin blurb?

Maybe he's trying to convince her to let him go on a run into town to grab supplies but she's not having any of it, worrying about him and practically clinging to him?

uh DUH THIS IS SO CUTE.

"I'll only be gone for a little while. You and the kid can stay here and- oomph." My cheek hits Din's chest and he laughs, arms briefly out to the side as he looks down at me, head tilted inquisitively. "What's wrong?"

"I just got you back." I mutter against the beskar plates with a sigh, eyes shutting as tightly possible, trapping the tears behind them while his hand reaches up to cradle the back of my head.

"What do you mean?" He asks, gruff voice making my stomach flip and I smile a bittersweet grin, feeling like he's already so far away.

"You just got back from getting a bounty. You've barely been back for ten hours." I look up at him with a huff, chin resting on the chest plate of his armor and he sighs, modulated breath sounding through the machine but I can feel his breath from under his mask. How I so desperately wish I could lift it up and see his face.

"I like to be busy." He shrugs as if it's the simplest thing on earth but it just makes my brows furrow deeper as my arms trap him to me, hands tightly secured behind his back.

"Be busy with me." I plead, feeling a gloved hand on my cheek as I allow my eyes to flutter shut, a smile taking over the previous pout on my lips and he laughs heartily. "That's not what I mean." I mutter, sensing the fact that it sounded like an innuendo and, though unintended, it's still funny.

"Are you trying to tell me that you miss me?" He asks and I giggle, nodding my head as he traps my face in his hands, resting his forehead against mine.

"I miss you, Din." I coo, setting my hands on his chest so I can almost feel his heartbeat beneath my hands.

"Then I'll stay." He gives in, shoulders relaxing a bit as Grogu coos beside us, both of our heads tilting down to look at him with happy grins. I guess we're having a family day in.

#din #din x reader #din djarin #din djarin x reader #mandalorian #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian fic #mandalorian fluff #din djarin fluff

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pedropascalsx · 2 years

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Target Practice {Din Djarin x F! Reader}

Summary: You get distracted by the Mandalorian cleaning his weapons, and he can see right through you and what you’re needing from him.

Warnings: Gun kink, gun fucking, weapon fucking, p in v sex, creampie, mentions of oral, slight fingering, breastplay and some dirty talk. Please tell me if i’m forgetting anything. - obvious canon divergence. Canon? we don’t know her. No use of y/n.

Word count: 2.8k

A/N: So as usual I am a little nervous about posting this but I had so much fun writing it, I really hope y’all enjoy it and if you did please let know! I love hearing your feedback. I am REALLY trying to improve on my writing and my smut, i promise!!!

Shoutout to my best girl @djarinispunkk for beta reading this for me. Shoutout to @prolix-yuy for being the best supportive enabler and helping convince me to run with this idea.

And shoutout to my girl @pedrito-friskito for being the sweetest person alive; i love you to pieces - happy birthday, i hope you enjoy this.

He could spot it from a mile off - he was certain he would be able to even without zooming in on his helmet - a look that was reserved just for him, a look that you were sure only he could bring out in you. A look that said more than your timid self could muster to say aloud, one that was drenched in want and lust. The first time you had given him that look, he had all but ran across the hull to you, whispering ‘are you sure?’ into your ear and then ripping your dress over your head in one clean sweep the moment you replied with a breathy ‘yes’. He’d taken you entirely by surprise; he was gentler than you’d anticipated, and it seemed to surprise him just as much. You’d found him leaving the door to his room slightly ajar for you every night since. The conversation still slow but day by day, he revealed more and more to you. Most the time he’d just ask questions, little things to get to know you more and more, and when you’d ask the same back, you’d get a nod or a short reply. Some days he wouldn’t ask you a thing, he’d keep himself as quiet as he needed to and communicate with the tiniest of touches: letting his hand linger on the bottom of your back, or resting his hand on your thigh for a few seconds before letting it go with a quick squeeze. The last time you’d given him this specific look was when he was taking apart one of his guns; you were mesmerised, watching him methodically take apart each piece and polish it until it gleamed perfectly. It wasn’t until you’d realised his hands had stopped moving entirely that he’d caught you staring, his helmet poised with a slight tilt. He stared back intently behind the beskar and your breath hitched as you realised that you’d been caught. You couldn’t see them, but you felt the burning gaze of his eyes burrowing into you, seemingly reading the filthy thoughts floating around your brain.

Before you could speak, a wordless command in the form of his finger pointing towards his cot was sent your way. On shaky legs, you immediately made your way into his room and removed your clothes. He always liked it when you were ready, not wanting to waste time in removing your layers – he likes when you’re bare. Bare and waiting for him. Ready for him to strip off his gloves and run his rough calloused hands all across your body, silently aching behind layers of beskar for you to do the same to him. You were sure that he’d never allow it, honestly you weren’t sure he could. So utterly devoted to his creed.

His hands were one of two parts of him that he’d revealed to you. He’d gotten into the habit of removing his gloves the minute his kid was snoozing soundly in his crib, waiting for you to notice and to slide your hand into his. You also loved the way he wasted no time in pulling you to the bottom of his bed, spreading your legs so he could slide in between them and tapping your thighs in the form of a command for you to wrap your legs around his waist. Only then would he begin to run his hands all over you, taking his time to squeeze and play with your tits. Telling you how badly he wanted to suck them, run his tongue across them and bite down until you squealed beneath him. But this time was different, he breathed out the usual ‘good girl’ at seeing you spread bare for him, the two words he knew went straight to your core and made you leak arousal for him. He kept his hands to himself, his helmet tilting upwards and back down again as he took in the sight in front of him in.

“You look so good like this” he grunted, before finally reaching down to run his palms up and down your thighs. Spreading your legs, a little further before slotting himself against you, gripping up to your hips to stop any movement until he’s ready, “Tell me what you were thinking when I was fixing my gun back together, sweet girl.” His cock twitches as your breaths become shaky and your chest heaves up and down. He’s always more vocal when you’re like this, always more giving with words when he’s got you where he loves you the most. “Tell me, don’t make me ask again,” he growls out. You feel your core clench down around nothing with a desperate need. “I was thinking… thinking about how it-it would feel” you murmur, your voice small and shaky as he runs his thumb across your cheekbone.

“How it would feel where, baby? Tell me what you want.” You bite down on your lip as his fingers trail down your torso, just lightly sweeping against your skin until he gets to your core. A finger slightly circles the area beneath your belly button before he drags it down to the top of your slit, millimetres away from where you want to feel him the most, waiting until you give him the answer he is chasing.

“In-inside of me,” you splutter out, and he rewards you with a firm press against your bundle of nerves. “Good girl.” he grits out as he starts to draw circles around your clit, “You want it, sweet girl?” he asks as he reaches behind his back and pulls out the very rifle you had been focusing on minutes before. “Yes,” you moan as he continues working your clit. “Safe word or hit down on the bed if you need me to stop” he says whilst dipping two fingers into your entrance, gathering up as much slick onto his fingers before removing them and spreading it down the barrel of his gun. You groan as he removes his hand from your core and places it on one of your thighs, spreading you open a little more before rubbing the cold metal against your clit.

“You ready?” You nod your head ferociously as he moves the gun down slowly through your folds, until it reaches your entrance and he pushes it in, relishing in the soft moans escaping your mouth as the barrel breaches you more and more.

“Play with that pretty little clit,” he orders as he slowly starts to pump it in and out, studying your face as it contorts in pleasure and the pretty little sounds you make escape through your plump lips. He fucks you with his gun until he feels your pussy grip hard around it, until your eyes roll back into your head, and you beg to feel his cock filling you instead. He then flips you on your stomach and thrusts his achingly hard cock in and out of you until you’re a quivering mess, pussy lips sore and swollen from being railed into his cot and your bundle of nerves trembling from overstimulation. He left for a hunt the very next day and didn’t return for almost 10 days. He had told you he wanted to watch you fuck yourself with his gun the very first night he returned, but he quickly pulled it away and pressed himself into you, the gun quickly forgotten about.

And now you find yourself stood in the hull of his ship, your fingers tracing his pulse rifle. Feeling the cool metal against your fingertips as you run them slowly up and down the prongs. You’d never been brave enough to touch it before, knowing the power the rifle holds and having seen his disintegrate threats with it in a single blast, but today you couldn’t keep away. Memories of his gun rubbing that sweet spot inside of you replaying in your head, over and over as you dripped your arousal into your panties.

You couldn’t help but wonder how this would feel. How Mando would look draped in his armour as he stood over you again fucking you with another one of his weapons.

A gloved hand squeezes your shoulder, and you jump at the unexpected intrusion, so lost in your own filthy thoughts you didn’t hear him enter, “S’okay baby” he groans into your ears, a hand sneaking around your front and down to cup your mound, “You’ve seen what that one can do, sweet girl, I don’t think you could handle this one” he whispers. “I can handle it” you reply sounding braver than you’d expected to, “I want you to fuck me with it, Mando.” “Go get ready for me, sweet girl.”

You slowly walk towards his room, and just before you get to the door, you spin around to face him. Keeping your eyes on the visor of his helmet as you reach up to pull the straps of your dress off of your shoulders before letting it fall down around your ankles. You swear you hear a shaky breath escape through his modulator before you reach back and unhook your bra, swiftly pulling it down and letting it join your dress on the floor. You take a small step forward before dipping your fingers into the waistband of your panties and you slowly start to pull open the door, slightly swaying your hips as you do so. You step out of your panties slowly, and instead of letting them drop to the floor you let them hang from your index finger and you reach your arm out for him to take them from you.

You watch his chest plate rise and fall for a few short moments before he takes two long strides before you and snatches the flimsy lacy material from your finger. A smart contented sigh leaves your lips, and you hear him mumble something about not getting them back as you enter the room and lower yourself onto the bed you share. “Such a dirty, dirty girl” he groans as he sees you laid bare and waiting, “Fuck, you’re dripping, baby girl.” Your breath hitches as he lays the pulse rifle down beside of you, “Not yet, gotta get you ready first” he says, sensing your anticipation.

He holds his hands out in front of your face, and you take the silent order to remove the gloves as quickly as possible, the moment the first one is free he takes the opportunity to run his fingers across your cheek. “Such a pretty girl,” he murmurs before pulling the other free from your grip and plunging a thick finger inside of you, praising the way you clench around his digit immediately.

“Good girl, baby,” he coos as he slowly pumps it in and out, over and over until you’re begging for more. Eventually, he adds a second and reaches up to grab your own hand, moving it down to your clit. Your soft mewls fuel his need for you to cum on his fingers, and he orders you to rub your clit harder as he roughly palms at your breast with his free hand. You whimper the only name he had given you as you clamp down onto his fingers, vision blurred and seeing stars as he praises you throughout your high.

“You sure you want this?” he asks, gripping your jaw gently as he studies your face. “I do.” “And you’ll use the safe word if you want me to stop?” “Yes, Mando. I promise.” “Good girl.”

He reaches down to pick it up and you watch as he slowly studies his weapon, trying to work out the best way to do this, the way to do this without potentially harming you. He keeps his hand off of the trigger and holds it tentatively with both hands. After watching him think for a few moments about how to do this, you carefully reach down and guide the rifle towards you, keeping it straight as you encourage him to push the bottom prong inside of you as the top slides across your bundle of nerves.

“Fuck yourself down on it” he orders, “I’ll keep it still, baby. You cum on this and then you’ll cum on my cock.”

You keen over his words, and the way he lets the sweet endearments he keeps just for you slip out when you’re at your most vulnerable for him. Slowly, you move your hips, rocking downwards slightly and gasping at the way the cool metal feels against your clit. Your pace increases as you get used to the feeling, moaning louder and louder as the prongs rubs against the spongey spot inside of you and across your clit at the same time. You can see how affected he is at the sight laid out in front of him by the obvious tenting on his pants; you desperately feel the need to reach down and palm him he’s too far away. Desperate whimpers and moans fly freely from your mouth. “I know baby, I know” he soothes as your orgasm builds up inside of you, “I’ve got you, baby.” “I n-need… I need you, Mando” you stammer, as blinding pleasure explodes behind your eyes and you fuck yourself down harder and harder throughout your orgasm, chanting his name over and over as he continues to tell you that you’re his good girl, his and no-one else’s. The moment you come down from your orgasm, he slowly removes the blaster from your heat, discarding it as quickly as he can before freeing his almost painfully hard length from his pants. “My mouth,” you stutter as you attempt to pull yourself up, but a strong arm pushes on your shoulder to keep you laid down.

“Next time, baby… I need to be inside of you. Fuck. Need to feel that warm, tight pussy cum around my cock.” More arousal drips from your core as he continues letting filth drip from behind his helmet. You watch as he pumps himself a few times before dragging the tip of his cock through your folds, hovering at your entrance for a few seconds before filling you in one swift movement. Heavy breaths run through his modulator as he lets you adjust for a few moments.

“Look at you, so fucking perfect. My perfect sweet, sweet girl. Always so good to me. Always taking my cock so fucking good. Maker, how did I get so lucky as to stumble across you?” Before you can say anything back, he rolls his hips back and starts thrusting back into you. Your hands grip on to the cold beskar draping his shoulders as he fucks himself into you at an unforgiving pace, hitting that sweet spot with perfect precision. You squeeze down around him, choking out as his name as the feeling of euphoria begins to build inside of you; with each calculated and rough thrust, you feel the course patch of his pubic hair brush up against your clit and as you whimper his title, he whispers a simple one syllable word into your ear. “Din.”

“Din?” you repeat back to him. “Scream it, baby, as loud as you need to.” His name, you realise. His name. Din. “Din” you moan over and over, and you feel the affect it has on him - the way his shoulders seem to relax and the way his hands palm your breasts a little bit softer as he coaxes your next orgasm out of you.

You feel a gush from between your legs as you begin to soak him with your pleasure, before clamping down and screaming his name as you cum. He follows shortly behind as he thrusts in and out, painting your walls with his cum as he does so. “Fuck” you blurt out with a giggle, “That was… incredible.” “You are incredible” he says with a smirk that you can’t see but you can hear as he rolls down beside of you. You breathe out another tiny giggle as your hand slides into his. “It’s kind of perfect. It’s nice. Simple.” “What?” “Your name. Din. I like it.” “I like hearing you say it.” He says as he squeezes your hand three times. “I think you like hearing me moan it more.” “Mhm. Next time you moan it, it’ll be because my face is buried between your thighs.”

You gulp at the promise leaving his lips; never before has he tasted you, never before as he taken his helmet off around you, but the idea of finally feeling his lips against yours makes your heart stutter. You don’t press him on it, instead you snuggle up next him; letting the coolness of his beskar soak into your warm skin as he wraps his arms around you.

Letting him fuck you with his weapons was the best idea you’d had in a long time.

#pedro pascal #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfic #din djarin #din #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din dijarin x reader #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin smut #the mandalorian smut #my fanfic #my fanfiction #mando x reader #mando x you #mando x original female character

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spacegay-official · 6 months

Text

Pain For Pleasure

(aka "Din Djarin has a piercing kink send tweet")

So, this was initially supposed to be part of a lengthier headcanon post with more characters inspired entirely by the time I got my nips pierced in July, but I got carried away with Din's, then immediately forgot I had it in my google drive and found it a couple days ago, so... here we are.

Also, I know in that poll I posted the majority running as of right this second is green for Din's favorite color, but I went with red for the color of the beads on reader's piercings just because it felt right (and also it was in second place, so)

Pairing: Din Djarin x afab!reader (no pronouns/gendered terms used, but this is a very tit-centric fic)

Warnings: SMUT, this is pure self-indulgent PWP, nipple piercings, blindfolds bc Din, nipple play (sucking, nibbling, that kind of thing), unprotected PiV sex, creampie, talk of other (namely, genital) piercings, also this wasn't well proofread so there might be mistakes.

Words: ~1k

Din was out on a long hunt. You knew it was going to be a while, and while you usually go with him on these sorts of things, he insisted it was a one man job. So, you stayed with the ship, in the port city you’d landed in. But, sooner than later, you got bored.

So, you put the ship in lockdown and started walking around the city. There were plenty of sights to see, and plenty of things to do, but it was a piercing shop with beautiful jewelry displayed in the window that caught your eye. You went in, initially intending just to buy some jewelry from them, but it turns out they were having a special sale. That was all it took to get you to give into the impulse and just like that, you had your nipples pierced.

As you pondered your jewelry options, a thought crossed your mind--what would Din think? He loved your tits and did not hide that fact. You figured he wouldn’t mind the extra decoration. With him in mind, though, you picked out jewelry with red beads on the end. After the quick (and somewhat less painful than you were anticipating, but it still definitely hurt) procedure, you went back to the ship and admired the new piercings in the mirror for a bit. Yeah, he was definitely going to enjoy this.

Several days later, Din came back from his hunt, successful. He was clearly exhausted, though, taking a deep breath and leaning against the hull in the hold once the quarry was in carbonite and unable to cause any more issues. You smiled and approached him, glad you were currently wearing a thin shirt without a bra underneath.

“How’d it go?” you asked.

He turned his head and looked at you. “I’m glad I’m back,” he answered.

He went to turn his head back, but seemed to double-take. You grinned wider, then started walking backwards towards the bed you shared. You sat down on the edge of it, and pulled the material of your shirt more taught over your chest.

“See something you like?” you asked.

Din walked over to you, and immediately got on his knees between your legs. His hands smoothed up your sides under your shirt, lifting it. You took it off the rest of the way.

“Fuck,” Din breathed.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” you teased.

“When did you get this done?” he asked.

“Couple days after you left. I got bored,” you answered, shrugging a little.

Din’s hands moved to hold your tits, then run his thumb over your nipples and the jewelry. You sighed at the sensation.

“So fucking good to me,” he mumbled, his hands gliding down your body again, this time to the waistband of your pants. He practically tore them off, then began backing you further onto the bed. “Probably hurt, huh? Going through that just to look pretty for me.”

He reached for something in one of the storage compartments next to the bed, and soon your vision was completely obscured by a blindfold. You heard a quiet hiss, felt the bed shift, then hummed appreciatively as you felt Din’s lips wrap around one of your nipples, sucking, his tongue toying with the piercing. You ran your fingers through his curls, slightly damp from being in his helmet on his hunt. He practically purred as you gently scratched your nails against his scalp.

Din gently nibbled your nipple before releasing it and moving over to the other one. The jewelry added sensitivity you weren’t yet used to, and it went right to your core. You were dripping wet, though you were more than willing to ignore that in favor of letting Din take what he needed. And he kept taking for a while, switching nipples intermittently, occasionally pulling off entirely just to look at them, shiny with spit and a little swollen from his ministrations. At some point during this, you noticed he was grinding against your thigh, hard behind his flight suit.

You gently tugged against his hair, just to grab his attention, not to interrupt him. “You should take your armor off, baby,” you mumbled.

He hummed an agreement, leaning up on his knees to do just that. You heard shuffling and pieces of his armor detaching and being set down next to the bed. It was hurried, not the organized methodical way he typically removes it. After just a few moments, he was back on top of you, kissing your lips fervently as he pinched one of your nipples, making your breath hitch.

“I’m going to take good care of you, mesh’la,” he practically growled. You felt him reach between you and free his cock from his pants, and you grabbed at his shoulders as he pushed into you desperately. You moaned at the stretch.

“You’re perfect. All mine,” Din groaned, once again letting his mouth find one of your nipples.

“Mmm… if I knew this would get you this worked up I would’ve gotten it done months ago,” you said, moaning again as Din rutted into you.

Din made another noise. “Yeah?” he asked. “You’d do anything for me, wouldn’t you?”

You hummed, turning into a cry as Din’s thumb found your clit, your orgasm quickly mounting. “Anything, Din,” you breathed.

Din fucked you with a mix of desperation and purpose, never leaving either of your pierced nipples alone for too long. He knew exactly how to get you to fall apart for him, and he wielded that skill well. With how worked up he’d gotten you just from sucking on your tits, you weren’t going to last long in the first place, but you had a feeling he wasn’t either.

He easily brought you to a climax, and you cried out his name as you came. He followed moments after, spilling into you with a delicious moan before he collapsed on top of you, panting. Your hands cupped his face as Din kissed you gently.

An idea crossed your mind, and you grinned.

“That look usually gets us in trouble,” Din commented, though you could hear the smile in his own voice.

“You know,” you started, “there are other piercings I could get. Like… maybe a VCH piercing?”

“VCH?”

“Vertical clitoral hood piercing,” you answered. “It sits so one of the beads of the piercing is right on the clit, makes things more intense for folks sometimes.”

Din moaned at your words, then kissed you again. You made a noise of slight surprise as you felt his hips grind against yours again.

#din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin smut #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #star wars #din #my fic #max says things #tori says things

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dindjarinandlysakane · 1 year

Text

The Sweetest Taste - Masterlist

When Din Djarin meets a beautiful cake seller from Nevarro, do you think he’s just going to stand back and let her suffer at the hands of her abusive boyfriend? After a lifetime of heartache and pain, Lysa Kane realises she’s not on her own any more and finds an unlikely friend in the Mandalorian. And Din Djarin does not like men who treat women like that, not one tiny bit. Friendship/comfort and maybe something more…

Chapter 1 - Lysa Kane

Chapter 2 - Indebted

Chapter 3 - A welcome delivery

Chapter 4 - Something sweet and sticky

Chapter 5 - A chaperone

Chapter 6 - Bruises

Chapter 7 - Trouble?

Chapter 8 - I was worried about you

Chapter 9 - So what are you going to do to get the girl?

Chapter 10 - Rescue

Chapter 11 - A breath apart

Chapter 12 - Rain

Chapter 13 - The Storm

Chapter 14 - Inquisition

Chapter 15 - Seeing red

Chapter 16 - A plea

Chapter 17 - Like a beaten dog

Chapter 18 - So you're in love?

Chapter 19 - "Mando!"

Chapter 20 - Hushed voices

Chapter 21 - A wolf

Chapter 22 - Not anymore

Chapter 23 - A single shot

Chapter 24 - A poorer man

Chapter 25 - You should stay

Chapter 26 - The Window Ledge

Chapter 27 - Morning light

Chapter 28 - Bickering

Chapter 29 - Protective

Chapter 30 - A line in the sand

Chapter 31 - Fresh bread and a shared bed

Chapter 32 - In the stillness of the morning

Chapter 33 - A failure

Chapter 34 - I need you

Chapter 35 - Aching for one another

Chapter 36 - Home

Chapter 37 - In the Quiet of the Night

Chapter 38 - And have you cramp my style?

Chapter 39 - The Colour of the Ocean

Chapter 40 - Long days & even longer nights

Chapter 41 - Ner cyar'ika

Chapter 42 - Fading into darkness

Chapter 43 - Missing

Chapter 44 - Nar Shaddaa

Chapter 45 - I was never yours to lose

Chapter 46 - Old friends

Chapter 47 - The Bridge

Chapter 48 - Upwards

Chapter 49 - Restless

Chapter 50 - What matters is that I met you

Chapter 51 - Unspoken words

Chapter 52 - My kar'ta

Chapter 53 - Bacon

Chapter 54 - Mi-tah

& More...

If you would like to be tagged in this fic and receive updates when new chapters are posted just send me a message.

GIFS are not mine.

#din djarin #din djarin fic #din djarin oc #the mandalorian fanfiction #the Mandalorian #the Mandalorian fic #Mando #Mando fic #din x oc #din djarin smut #din

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pedros-husband · 10 months

Text

Aftercare

Din Djarin x male reader

Some fluffy aftercare with din, din being a soft boy and feeling a little vulnerable

Reader referred to as (m/n) and some nicknames

Warnings: mentions of sex, mentions of cum

This is my first fic so please be kind <3

Din lay in the small bunk of his shared room on the razor crest, chest rising and falling quickly as he catches his breath after a long and passionate session with his boyfriend (m/n).

“You did so good for me sweetheart do you want to rest now or take a shower hm?”( M/n) asks sweetly, sitting down on the edge of the bunk, brushing a piece of din’s hair from his sweaty forehead.

“C-can we rest for a while please cyar’ika?” He mumbles, eyes closed as he lets out a small whimper at his boyfriends touch, feeling slightly vulnerable from his ass being absolutely pulverised over and over for nearly 3 hours straight.

“Of course love let me just clean you up a bit first okay? Then I’ll hold you until you feel like taking a shower.” He responds, grabbing a tissue from the bathroom and gently wiping all off the cum on din’s stomach, which was quite a lot since it was 3 full loads. He then wiped some of the cum that dribbled down din’s thighs and into the bed, before chucking the tissue into a bin and crawling into the bunk Next to din.

Din immediately curled up into his boyfriends chest, trembling slightly as he came down from his high and his body fully registered the pounding he got. Sometimes (m/n) could get a little rough,not that din didn’t like that it just sometimes meant he couldn’t walk straight for the next few days.

After a few minutes of (m/n) spooning din and gently tracing. Shapes onto his back, rubbing his fingers through his hair din spoke up.

“Hey, uh cyar’ika….you-you do love me right?” Din spoke quietly and with a certain uncertainty laced in his voice as he fiddled with a strand of (m/n)’s hair.

“Of course I love you din,I mean we just made love for what 3-4 hours! what makes you think otherwise?” He says looking at din with slightly furrowed eyebrows as he holds his face in his hands, searching his expression.

“Sometimes I just feel like no one could ever love me, I’m just not…used to it I suppose my whole life I believed i was going to be a bounty hunter and mandalorian and never find live but I’ve got it and now I guess I’m just scared of loosing it but also accepting that it’s real” he whispers, placing one of his hands over the ones in his face, turning his head slightly to kiss (m/n)’s palms.

“Well I love you very very much din djarin and you better start believing it” he chuckled and pulls a din back into his chest, peppering his face with little kisses and running his fingers through the other man’s dark brown fluffy hair.

Din smiles and cuddles up into his boyfriends chest, glad that he found such a caring and loving man, as they drift off into a comfortable sleep, din preparing for the affects of the sex to kick in in the morning….

#din djarin #din dijarin x reader #din dijarin fanfiction #din #din djarin x male reader #male reader #pedros-husband

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happy-beeeps · 5 months

Text

Day 3: Gloves

Summary: Din offers the reader his gloves, and their first look at his skin.

Warnings: none, language, briefest mention of past abuse

WC: 1k!

It’s easy to forget how cold space is. In the past few months you’ve been on the Crest, between the baby and the roaring, industrial sized heater, it’s been toasty, almost warm. You’d almost forgotten it could be cold. Until, of course, the ancient industrial sized heater broke.

It wasn’t too bad at first. Mando was quick to find any spare blankets he had on the ship and pass them between you and the baby, hoping to create any semblance of warmth. Then the baby himself helped, as you attempted to rock him to sleep for hours, the green little guy getting fussy from the cold. Now, with the kid settled into his pram and the lack of body heat on your hands, you’ve done it. You’ve remembered how cold space is.

You’re doing ok. You’ve seated yourself on the co-pilot’s chair, knees pulled up to your chest and your hands wrapped underneath your clothes, tucked under your armpits. Your face is half obscured under the neck of your sweater, and you’re attempting to creative some kind of insulation by just continuously blowing your breath against your skin. You haven’t decided if you can die from carbon monoxide poison this way but, fuck it, you’re too cold to care.

Your hands, that’s the issue right now. You hesitate to say agony but—let’s be real, it’s agony. You’ve been frostbitten before, so now your fingers and joints of your hands are aching under the pain of the chill in the ship, and no matter how hard you press your hands to your skin, there’s no relief.

“What are you doing?”

It’s Mando’s—Din’s, as you’ve just recently learned, voice that breaks you from your disassociation, offering the briefest respite from the pain. He’s asking you in a tone that’s equal parts concern, confusion, and jest. Over the past few months you’ve learned it’s his feeble attempt at teasing.

“Trying to warm up, not all of us come with an insulation system,” you poke back, and he settles beside you in his chair, his helmet sending that searing gaze towards you. You shrink into yourself even more beneath it, somehow feeling both intimated and bewitched by it.

Ok, bewitched is just a better word for saying you’ve got a massive-fucking-crush on the guy, but that’s beside the point.

“What’s wrong with your hands?”

“Nothing, what gave you that impression?”

He cocks his head to the side in a way you’ve begub to translate as “really?”

“Just something from when I was younger, it’s nothing.”

He pauses for a moment, then extends his own hand in one of the rare few moments of touch he’s offered. “Let me see.”

You’re in hell. If there is a maker, they’re being cruel. Do you remove your hands from the tiny bit of warmth you have, or reject Din in a rare moment of vulnerability?

The choice is immediate, and you rip your hands from their confine and tentatively place them in his.

They don’t look bad, an angry red at the joints and the cold has made you curl them inwards, but they aren’t blackened or cracked like some of the frostbite you’ve seen. He must notice the difference, and moves to gently trace the joint of one of your fingers. His words are slow, deliberate, “How did this happen to you?”

You melt into his touch, “locked out of my house during a snowstorm a while back, he was an asshole.”

Din tenses at that, just barely noticeable, and pauses his trace. You worry you’ve offended him, and he removes his hands, only to slowly, carefully remove the leather gloves you’ve always seen on his hands. “Here, you take ‘em.”

“Din, please, I can’t, I’ll be fine.”

“I want you to wear them.”

It’s the only encouragement you need, and you pulll them on quickly. You try to conceal how rapidly your heart is beating as you peak at the newly exposed skin of his hands.

He’s tan, tanner than you’d thought, with skin that looks warm and inviting. Calluses dot the underside of his palms, and he brings his fingers together, wringing them slowly. It dawns on you that you’re not sure if anyone has ever even seen his hands.

“How are your hands not always sweating?”

Nice. Real smooth. He’s gonna love that.

“Maybe that’s why I always keep them on.”

“Are we doing humor now?”

“Depends, how am I doing at it?”

You laugh, and so does he, and you decide you’d quite like to hear that sound forever. You stretch your fingers, warming nicely in the suede of Din’s giant gloves.

“Thank you, for these, I needed it.”

“Don’t mention it.” He unwinds his hands, laying them on his knees as he turns his attention back to you.

You’re not sure if you’re high on knowing that you’re wearing Din’s clothes, or the ecstasy of finally having feeling in your fingers, but your hand is quickly going to poke at his, your fingers dotting the smooth contours of his own.

You half expect him to pull back, but he doesn’t, letting you play with his fingers and trace his skin. It seems easy with the barrier of fabric between you. You ignore the fact that your stomach is churning and your brain is going ohshitohshitohshit.

He’s got a scar along the inside of his wrist, you can only see a bit of it, white and gnarled. You reach out to trace it, careful not to go beyond the skin that’s already exposed.

“When I was just learning to use my flamethrower, things got a little…dicey.”

The image of a young Din accidentally torching himself makes you smile, but it’s quickly dimmed by the realization that the man beside is literally wearing clothes that kill people. You flex your hand in his glove and realize, I guess you are too.

“Do you feel better?”

You’re rocketed back to reality by his voice and you nod, “yes, thank you.”

He stands, but not before tapping the bottom of your chin with his thumb and pointer finger, the skin on skin contact rocketing through you. “Keep em’ till we land, they suit you mesh’la.”

He leaves quietly, leaving you sitting in the cold and silent space, thinking of foreign words with pretty sounds and warm suede around your fingers.

#dincember 2023 #star wars #the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin imagine #din djaren #din x reader #din #the mandalorian x reader

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thefrogdalorian · 5 months

Text

Din Djarin + Chapter 15: The Believer

#not to be dramatic but if i don't hug him like right now i might pass away #he looks terrified iT'S SICK #din djarin #din edits #the mandalorian #pedro pascal #my gifs #din #mando #mando edit #star wars #star wars gifs #poor baby

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merakimaiden · 1 year

Note

DOMESTIC DIN HC PLEASE BESTIE.

HERE YOU GO BESTIE

Domestic Din Headcanons

Household

Helps with housework.

Does the dishes, laundry, sweeps the floor- whatever you ask him to help you with, he will gladly do so and DOESN'T COMPLAIN.

If you blabber about something not working only one (1) time, the next day it’s already fixed for you

Cooking

He actually loves cooking with you, even if most of the time it’s you fixing his burnt dish.

While you’re fixing his burnt dish, he just sits at the dining table or stands beside the stove awkwardly while Grogu is busy with his toys in the living room.

Or if you’re cooking alone, he bathes Grogu in the meantime. You’ll be cooking while listening to giggles from both of your boys.

Hugs you from behind as you’re cooking. HE MELTS WHEN YOU LEAN INTO HIMM

Going out

Before Din leaves for work/ travels with Grogu, he gives you multiple kisses on your face and a big loving hug.

Misses you terribly <33

Whenever the three of you go for grocery shopping, he sneaks your favourite snacks in the cart.

Bedtime

TUCKS GROGU INTO BED WITH A BEDTIME STORY!!

Sometimes the both of you will be beside Grogu, making him sleep.

Mostly you let Din put Grogu to bed cause 🥺

Little spoon in bed. Because I said know so.

Loves to lay on you. Bonus points if you caress the back of his head while he’s on your chest.

Bonus : Loves spending hours cuddling you on the porch of your little house, while watching Grogu play with the frogs <3

A/N : so sorry for a short one, I hope it meets your expectations :)

Reblogs and feedback are appreciated :)

#din djarin #din djarin headcanons #din #request #din djarin x reader #din djarin fluff

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oliviajdjarin · 1 year

Text

Din Djarin: You, Me, and the Stars

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

Excerpt: “You leaned up onto your elbows to look down at him, the both of you knowing what came next. Dribbles of rain became more and more frequent upon your head, beginning to soak into your scalp, but you couldn’t feel anything else besides the excitement in your chest and the metal of your husband against your warm body. Drops of rain began to hit his helmet as well, sliding down the sides and collecting within his visor.

How long had it been since he felt a drop of rain on his skin?

He had to have noticed the desire in your eyes to complete what you had started as he covered your hands with his and pulled them up to the sharp edge of his helmet. ‘Go on, riduur,’ he whispered, ‘I’m not afraid anymore.’”

Warnings: This isn’t all SMUT, but there is a little. Reader and Din get married. Kissing, lovemaking, references to past sex, insecurities, swearing, crying, so much yearning, definitely incorrect Mandalorian marriage customs, Din gets shy when you compliment him.

A/N: This is one of my favorite fic genres for Din, I have wanted to write it for years, and many authors have done their own versions of it. I am not attempting to plagiarize or copy any of their amazing work. This is purely me wanting to do my own version on an already incredible idea.

A/N 2: Episode 1: The Apostate are we fucking kidding.

Word Count: 3k

Pedro Masterlist

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

(gif from pinterest)

His gloved hand had made its way to rest against your bare hip bone, twitching every few seconds in his sleep, effectively sending chills down your spine every time. This kept you from having any sleep of your own.

You didn’t mind, not with the expanse of your Mandalorian in bed next to you, who was nothing short of breathtaking.

The lamplight washed over the metal, soaking him in a wave of sun and fire. His body facing yours gave the lighting all the more canvas to paint, stretching over the deep black of his visor, the brown of his cape, and the orange of his gloves. His body was glowing--basking-- in that cheap lamp you bartered for on Nevarro. He had rolled his eyes underneath all that glistening glory, you could tell by the way his head tilted back ever so slightly, and muttered to himself about its uselessness, thinking you didn’t notice.

But you did.

You noticed everything about him--how he moves intentionally, watches carefully, talks authoritatively...

...and groans uncontrollably when he sinks his gloved fingers inside of you.

Besides, you didn’t get the shitty lamp to see the Crest’s controls better, or find Grogu better in the dark, or even find a snack in the middle of the night. You got it for this--this post-sex euphoric haze that came over you every time he made you finish, the need to drink him up with your eyes, to observe him in is most untaught state, to witness as much of him as you possibly could, while truly seeing nothing at all.

It was right then, only for a few sinful, pathetic moments, that for the first time, the desire to see him--truly look at him--overpowered any and all of your rational thoughts. The left side of your brain was crying out at you to stop, remember his Creed, remember how much you respect it, while the right side of your brain took the opportunity to pummel your brain with everything you had been depriving yourself of for months.

How would it feel to wake up to his face every morning, see his eyes crinkle from a smile, his teeth peek out of his lips, his scruff beginning to grow in. How would he look, exactly--brown eyes or blue, or green, or hazel? Darkened skin or light, full lips or thin, thick hair or thin.

It scared you how little it mattered, but how badly you wanted to know.

How would his eyebrows squeeze together when he focused, his tongue pop out from his lips as he was thinking, or his laugh--one of his true laughs--sound without that fucking modulator. Would it be as dry as it always sounded, or would the extra oxygen in his lungs breathe life into it. Would he have dimples? Wrinkles? Endless freckles, or only a few. You hoped he had enough for you to memorize.

Would his skin be soft or rough? How calloused would his diligent hands be, or would your theory that he had a soft spot for hand lotion finally be proven true. How much did his muscles flex underneath all that armor? How sculped would he be, after carrying all that weight for all that time?

Would he let you be the first to find out?

Your free hand began moving on its own accord, slowly bringing itself up to trace a line down the front of its vizor, trying to convince itself that yes, that was skin you were feeling. That was body heat, and pores, and scruff, and lips, and a pulse underneath all that muscle. You traced his helmet so gently and so quickly that it was mere seconds before you were pulling away, feeling the exhaustion from the night’s previous activities beginning to hit you all at once. Your eyes were fluttering shut, and with one last kiss to his metallic, bitter-tasting shoulder, you were out. Out quickly enough and deep enough for you to miss Din’s whisper in reply, brushing a lock of hair from your forehead.

“One day, mesh’la. One day.”

~*~

That day had finally come.

Din’s gloved hand in yours was the only thing keeping your mind tied down to the forests of Sorgan. You were finally--finally--going to swear to the man you loved that you would love him forever, and he would to you, for all his days.

Luckily for you, Peli was kind enough to keep the kid safe on Tattooine while you and Din headed off. Din was adamant that the ceremony be special, not some random day on the Razor Crest, but on a star-filled night on Sorgan.

“That’s how I want it,” he had told you after days of pestering him, “just you, me, and the stars.”

Frankly, you just wanted him.

He led you up a small hill that led to a cleared-out field, stretching farther than you could see, and your pulse beat louder and louder as you took each step. You could only imagine how he was feeling underneath all that armor, what shade his eyes turned when he was nervous, and how you would react when you finally knew the answer.

The night air cooled you as you made your way to the top of the hill, Din guiding you to the flattest and clearest spot. He was a quiet man--always listening, always watching--but he was being abnormally quiet as you made your way to the designated spot. The creatures in the trees chirping and buzzing filled the anxious air for you.

Finally, Din stopped and faced you, taking both of your hands into his own. He gazed at you intensely, and you met it straight on. “You’re sure about this?”

You smiled softly, letting the love shine through in your eyes, and nodded. “Yes.”

He exhaled a sigh with undertones of emotions that you couldn’t quite place, and immediately started peeling the weapons off his body, one by one, placing them gently in the grass. He started with his spear, pulling it from its carrier with a familiar shling. He traced it with his palm before setting it down, and moving to his weapons belt, removing every artillery he had. Dispensing his whistling birds into the dirt, delicately. He stripped himself of any and every bit of his arsenal.

“This is the first step,” he said as he worked, “to prove that you can trust me, and to deny any ill-intent on my part.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the thought that he had already done this step in your shared bedroom. Every night. Without fail.

Once he finished, he took his hands in yours again, pulling you near. His hands had a slight shake to them, so you squeezed them tighter.

“Are you afraid, Din?” you whispered over the buzzing insects.

He said nothing as he squeezed your hands back, only breathed slowly as he looked into your eyes. You brought his hands up to your mouth and pecked his leathered knuckles, looking into his star-glazed helmet. “It’s just me and you.”

He exhaled again, but this time, you knew it was out of relief, and maybe even...excitement.

“Okay,” he whispered, his forehead inches from your own now. “Then let’s do this.”

You smiled so wide your cheeks ached. “Okay.”

Din chuckled slightly before looking down and widening his feet to match up with the length of his shoulders. He straightened up to his fullest height, allowing the stars to shimmer on his beskar that much more, causing the pounding of your heart to echo louder and louder in your skull.

You were really fucking doing this.

“Now we say the vows,” Din said, sounding out of breath. “I know you know them, but for a Mandalorian and a...non-Mandalorian...it’s tradition for the latter to repeat them back to the Mandalorian. It symbolizes your full understanding of the Creed, as well as your full acceptance of it.”

You nodded, gulping, and mimicked his stanse--strong, confident, ready. The trees around you swayed in the wind as Din gathered his breath.

“Repeat after me,” he began, taking a second to rub his thumb over your knuckles. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

Din’s voice steadied as he said, “Mhi solus tome.”

“Mhi solus tome.”

“Mhi solus dar’tome.”

“Mhu me’dinui an.”

“Mhi me'dinui an.”

“Mhi ba’juri verde.”

“Mhi bar’juri verde.”

With a newfound shakiness in his voice, Din continued, stating them in your familiar tongue, “We are one when together, we are one when parted.”

“We are one when together, we are one when parted.”

“We will share all, we will raise warriors.”

The birds chirped, the insects buzzed, and one drop of rain landed on the top of Din’s helmet as he said, “We’re married.”

You didn’t hesitate to immediately jump into his arms, effectively bringing the most feared bounty hunter to the ground with you.

Tears lined your eyes as you laughed in pure ecstasy, your brain unable to process that the man in your arms was finally your riduur. Not your partner, not your boyfriend, not just your husband, your riduur. He was yours now, infinitely, endlessly, above space and time, and you were his. Din laughed loudly in your arms, just as filled with joy as you were, and you could have sworn that noise filled the hole in your heart that had been sore and empty all your life.

You leaned up onto your elbows to look down at him, the both of you knowing what came next. Dribbles of rain became more and more frequent upon your head, beginning to soak into your scalp, but you couldn’t feel anything else besides the excitement in your chest and the metal of your husband against your warm body. Drops of rain began to hit his helmet as well, sliding down the sides and collecting within his visor.

How long had it been since he felt a drop of rain on his skin?

He had to have noticed the desire in your eyes to complete what you had started as he covered your hands with his and pulled them up to the sharp edge of his helmet. “Go on, riduur,” he whispered, “I’m not afraid anymore.”

And with that, you lifted the visor from his face, carefully, using all your willpower to not shut your eyes at even a peak at his skin. Your hands shook as you lifted and your heart clogged your throat as the man you had sworn to protect, kissed until you were dizzy, and shared the darkest, most shameful parts of your being with finally hit your eyes.

Your first thought when your eyes ultimately discovered their deepest desire was that you had married the most beautiful man alive.

A blanket of thick, dark brown curls covered the top of his head, framing his face. His skin was a golden tan, highlighting his cheekbones and pink, plump lips that you had kissed so many times. His face was further framed by dark eyebrows and sculpted facial hair, as well as a prominent, strong nose. It was counteracted by a soft jawline and big, brown eyes. They were darker than you expected, an almost black, but slightly glazed by surrealness of this moment. Raindrops began to soak the curls atop his head and drip into his slightly opened mouth, drawing your attention to the one thing you were most excited about.

A small freckle, right below his chin. One of your favorite spots to kiss in the darkness of your bunk. It was just sitting there, waiting for you to memorize.

You realized soon after that the raindrops dribbling onto his cheeks weren’t rain at all, but a mixture of both his tears and yours. You let out a chuckle of disbelief. He was right here, right in front of you. Just how you had always wanted him to be.

You brushed his tears away as you whispered, “Ner riduur cuyir mesh’la.”

It turns out his eyes do crinkle when he smiles.

“That’s what you were practicing the other night?” he asked, his voice dripping with honey free from the modulator. You nodded.

He smiled wider, brushing your soaked hair from your forehead, “Ner riduur cuyir mesh’la bat brilliant.”

You couldn’t help the giggle you released at his words, nor could you prevent your lips colliding with his own. It was better than any kiss you had ever shared before.

He sighed into it as he kissed you back, the most relaxed and full of life as you had ever felt him kiss you, yet he exuded passion. His tongue caressed yours within seconds, bringing you as close to him as he possibly could. You ran your hands everywhere you possibly could--through his hair, down his neck, under his chest piece, over his cheeks. He groaned when you discovered how easy it was to scratch your nails into his hair and his scruff without the fear of opening your eyes, and you had to pull away to smile.

“I can’t stop looking at you,” you whispered, moving your kisses to the column down his neck. You felt it heat up with a blush.

“Neither can I,” he whispered, and maker his voice. His throat vibrated against your lips as he spoke. “I knew you’d be beautiful without my sensors, but I wasn’t ready for how beautiful.”

He pushed you closer to his neck as you hit his favorite spot, nibbling down just how he liked. His large hands were suddenly off of you, and a rustle of leather later, they were back on your body, gloveless. You whined into his ear when you finally felt that yes, he was obsessed with hand lotion, and his soft hands massaged into your scalp.

The rain poured harder and harder in the darkness as you and Din kissed and stroked and loved on each other. You eventually reached down to his pants, sliding your fingers down underneath. In previous years, he would fuck you, but the armor stayed on. The most skin you got to feel was his dick and his face, but both were a rarity. His goal was always to make you scream and come all over him, but now you wanted more. You wanted to drown him in your mouth and body.

“I’m on a drink,” you whispered into his mouth, feeling his happy trail against the pads of your fingers, “if you want.”

His skin and hair were soaked, but his eyes and muscles were suddenly awake, widening in excitement. “Yes,” he nodded, almost profusely, “yes.”

You pulled back and traced a line down his face, just like you did that fateful night in your bunk, only this time, you didn’t have to imagine the heat of his skin, or the look in his eyes as you pulled his pants down and yours to the side.

“Look at me,” he whispered suddenly as you lined yourself up, and you obliged. “I love you, Y/N. More than anything. More than my Creed, more than my life.”

You smiled, and kissed him. “I know.”

And you slid him inside of you.

You and Din had done this before, but never enough times for you to remember what it felt like. It was a surprise to you every time, without fail, how perfectly his curve fit into you, like you were molded and crafted for one another. His girth filled you fully, threatening to flutter your eyes shut, but you kept them open. You wanted to see his face as he entered you, see his eyebrows etch together, his mouth pop open, and his Adam’s apple bob.

He really was beautiful.

The rain soaked through your clothes as you moved, keeping your mouth either on his or on his face the entire time, listening to his groans and whines for more.

“Just like that riduur fuck yeah,” he got louder and louder as he spoke, “that’s it. You’re perfect at this. At everything.”

You grinned, whispering, “you look so fucking good right now,” and proceeded to suck a hickey onto his neck.

“Stop,” he said with a chuckle, and you laughed back, marking him as yours. He sucked a few onto your collarbone soon after.

You rocked and rocked and squeezed onto him just the way he liked, getting lost in the feeling of the cool rain, his warm dick, his glorious face, and the stars in the sky, that you nearly missed his squeezes on your arm.

“I’m close,” he whispered, suddenly creeping his hand up your thigh, “I’m so close.”

“Fill me up, riduur,” you whispered, “I want to feel you for days dripping out of--”

Your breath caught as his soft finger rubbed on your clit just right, causing you to squeeze on him so deliciously. He went, and you went seconds after at the feeling of his warmth inside of you. He had never gone this far. Not once.

You practically collapsed on top of him, letting him massage your hair and rub your back as you both came down, down, down. You pressed your nose into his neck, smelling his skin. The rain made his usual lemon scented three-in-one that much more pungent.

The both of you sat in silence for a few moments, letting the last of the rain dribble down on you, your heartrates steady, and your brain process the fact that everything about that moment was pure and real and just an inkling of the rest of your lives. The rain slowly came to a stop, and Din chuckled, making you chuckle.

“So now it stops,” he laughed, and you sat up to meet his eyes.

“I liked it. You look hot in the rain.”

He looked down with a blush on his face, “Good, because you look freezing.”

You hadn’t noticed your teeth beginning to chatter. “I’m fine.”

He shook his head and lifted you off of him, your mewl at his exit from your body borderline pathetic, and kept you lifted with one arm while he pulled up his pants with the other. He helped you pull up yours before positioning you bridal style in his arms as he began the walk back to the Crest.

“Din, your helmet, and your things--”

“Don’t need them,” he whispered as he walked, holding you close to his chest. “Not around you. Not anymore.”

Mando’a Translations:

“Ner riduur cuyir mesh’la.” -- My riduur is beautiful.

“Ner riduur cuyir mesh’la bat brilliant.” -- My riduur is beautiful and brilliant.

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