#din x f!reader
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Beskar and Pearls
Summary: Wearing the luxurious gift the Mandalorian gave you while accompanying him on a business trip turns out to be a pleasurable torture.
Pairing: Din Djarin x f!reader
Word count: 3.9k
Warnings: no plot - just smut, 18+ MDNI, teasing in public, Dom!Din, sub!reader, possessive!Din, lots of dirty talk, Din being a sexy arrogant asshole, glove kink, masculinity kink, humiliation kink, hair pulling, unprotected rough sex, mentions of exhibitionism kink, multiple orgasms, multiple creampies (wtf is a refractory period), a hint of overstimulation
A/N: the most coherent thoughts I have while ovulating. I have no excuse. This is FILTHYYYY I hope you enjoy it! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated!!
Also a big thank you to @thefrogdalorian for making sure it's written in decent English and to @saradika-graphics for the perfect divider 💕
Masterlist - Read on Ao3
The Mandalorian has just landed his ship on Nevarro after spending an entire month catching quarries in the outer rim. He has been away most of the time, but he made sure he'd make up for it every time he came back, too proud and stubborn to admit with words that he missed you, but demonstrating it by spoiling you with luxurious gifts and his body.
You look at him in reverential adoration as he dresses in his armour – a blend of his Mandalorian heritage and the many trophies he acquired from his victims, dark red in colour and dented after many close encounters with death.
He's just finished strapping weapons everywhere on his marvellous body when he addresses you.
“Hey. Got this for you. Wear it. We’re going to the market, I have some business to attend to,” Mando says as he hands you a small drawstring pouch he was hiding in his utility belt.
You immediately open it and its content leaves you speechless. It’s the sexiest piece of underwear you’ve ever seen – an expensive-looking black lace thong with just a string of pearls meant to go between your pussy lips.
If he wants you to wear it while in Nevarro, a lawless planet full of dangerous bounty hunters, you will wear it under the shortest skirt you have. The mere thought of his eyes glued to your ass, hoping to get a glimpse of it while being vigilant of other men at the same time, makes your head spin. You let out an aroused sigh and look at him, impassive as always behind the dark visor.
“That should keep you busy,” Mando chuckles and tilts his helmet.
You immediately wear it along with that short, flowy dress that also happens to be his favourite one on you.
“Let me see it,” he says as his hands grab you by the waist. He brings you closer to him and immediately lifts your skirt. He kneels before you and lets out a satisfied hum when he sees the tempting way the pearls disappear into your slit. The Mandalorian lingers there, dark visor trained on that heavenly view as his gloved hands caress your thighs. The sharp contrast between the coarse leather and your delicate, soft skin gives you a thrill of pleasure. You guess – you hope – the trip won’t take long.
His chestplate rises and falls as he struggles to catch his breath and maintain his composure at the sight of your perfect cunt dressed in pearls. It’s incredible to see how something so dainty could turn out to be so perverse and sinful.
“Come on. Let’s go now,” he says as he stands up. Now at his full height, his imposing figure resumes towering over yours. You admire him in awe, taking in the broadness of his body and the way his armour magnificently highlights it.
He offers you his hand to descend the ramp and as soon as you start walking, you understand why he said that it would keep you busy. With every step that you take, the pearls pleasurably rub against your clit. You can feel yourself getting wet already. There's an aroused expression on your face that Mando does not miss.
"Are you enjoying it?" he asks teasingly.
"Yes," you answer and bite your lip.
"Good,” you can hear how pleased he is seeing you like that after you’ve barely taken a few steps out of the ship. You know the thought of you being so aroused in public while having to control yourself is making him hard. You decide to play his game, see where this leads.
Mando is walking right behind you, strutting proudly as he stalks you like a hunter follows its prey. You feel his gaze trained on your butt, so you accentuate the swaying of your hips to get more friction from the pearls and to seduce him even further, hoping to get a reaction from him.
"Shake your ass as much as you want, you're not getting anything until I'm done here. You're only getting this scum to see how pretty you are. I like it," he slaps your ass and chuckles. You bite your lip to muffle a whimper.
"See the way they're looking at you? If they dare even think of touching you, their dead body will touch the ground before they lay one finger on you," he whispers in your ear as he grabs your hand and positions it over his blaster.
"You are mine," he growls in your ear as he wraps his other hand around your waist. He pulls you close, until the flustered, naked skin of your back touches his cold beskar chest plate. A thrill of excitement traverses your whole body and goes straight between your legs.
No one would be so stupid to touch you, not when a Mandalorian is claiming you as his, not when you can feel his erection against your ass. The whole thing is making you light-headed with arousal, so much that you start to shamelessly rub your ass against his cock. His hand tightens its grasp around your waist as your head rolls back to rest on his shoulder. You sigh in his neck and his hand trails up and wraps around your throat.
"Behave now," the Mandalorian growls as you feel his fingers tightening their grasp, trying to restrain himself from giving into lust already.
“I want you,” you whisper in his neck.
“I know,” he replies confidently before releasing you. What an arrogant motherfucker. You want to make him so hard he’ll want to bring you back to the ship and fuck your brains out, putting his desire for you before his stupid pride and his business. You want him to surrender to his carnal instinct.
The more steps you take, the more desperate you become for relief from this agonising, yet pleasurable torture. The pearls are stimulating your clit mercilessly, without ever getting you close to an orgasm. Your cunt spasms and clenches and what's worse is that he knows. Mando has spent so long quietly studying his bounties that he can tell by the irregular way you're breathing that you're struggling with the sensation. You bet he's enjoying every second of it, smirking under the helmet.
Just before entering the market area, he pulls you closer to him one more time, making you gasp.
"Now be quiet. You wouldn't want to fuck up my business. Be a good girl," he whispers softly in your ear as you feel his hand on your lower belly—close, so close to where you want him the most. Maker, he’s rock hard. You can feel it. You can’t think of anything else when his erection is pressing against your ass and his arm is tightly wrapped around your waist. He lets you go and you enter the market area together.
You try to divert your attention on whatever item they’re selling in the stands but it’s mostly weapons and things for bounty hunters that you couldn’t care less about. You can feel your arousal starting to drip down your legs, making your inner thighs slippery. Your swollen clit is pulsing and begging for attention, but Mando has been clear - you’ll get nothing until I'm done here, and you know nothing could make him change your mind, unless you play your cards right.
He grabs a seat in a beat-up wooden booth, his legs spread wide due to the massive erection trapped in his pants. There is an undeniable air of confidence and arrogance to him when he sits like this, looking so imposing and authoritative. You wish you could just drop to your knees and please him in any way he wants.
"Be my good pretty whore and sit here," Mando invites you to sit on his thigh and you immediately comply. You're so damn wet, you can't keep your legs closed.
"Hmm? Sitting here like this with your legs spread open? Do you want everyone to see your pretty cunt? Better let them know to whom this belongs, don't you think?" he coos in your ear with his husky voice. He knows you're both perfectly concealed and no one could see what's going on under that table. He's doing that just to prove a point—that you belong to him.
You nod mindlessly as his hand cups your cunt and stays there, still, without moving.
"Mando. Mando I need–" you whisper in his neck in a trembling voice.
"Oh. I know," he says, pleased when he sees how flustered you're getting. "Not yet," he growls as one of his gloved fingers trails your slit. He stops right before your clit, making you whimper and grip his arm tight in response. You dig your nails in his flightsuit as he feels how unbelievably wet you are.
"Hey. Behave now," he whispers as a Rodian approaches the booth and takes a seat, greeting him with a nod of his head. He immediately hands Mando a puck.
You have no idea what they’re talking about – you can't focus on anything else apart from the way Mando’s gloved hand holds the puck. You look at his fingers with pure lust, thinking of them touching your clit, pumping inside your cunt, the coarse leather caressing your skin.
You let your hand trail on his inner thigh and he stays surprisingly calm, not flinching one bit as your fingertips slowly slide higher, until they finally meet his cock. He is so unbelievably hard, you feel him throbbing underneath your fingers as you trail them all over his length. The Mandalorian won't betray any emotion, which turns you on even more. He's perfectly calm and collected on the outside, but you bet he'd love to throw you on that table and bury himself in you.
As soon as the Rodian hands Mando a handful of credits as an advance, he leaves.
"Please. Please, I need you," you whisper in his neck.
"I'm not done here. Be patient."
The throbbing need between your legs causes you to ache so badly that you don’t notice another man has approached and taken a seat until he begins speaking with the Mandalorian.
They're speaking in a foreign language, and Mando’s interlocutor does not seem happy. Judging by their tones of voice and gestures, they appear to be negotiating the fee for Mando collecting a certain bounty that the man needs capturing and he is displeased that Mando commands a high price. You’ve learnt over the time you’ve spent with the Mandalorian that there's not much room for negotiation with him. He has leverage since he's regarded as being the best bounty hunter in the outer rim. The way he speaks is so confident, it makes you even wetter how he does not lose composure while the other man is basically yelling at him.
He starts running his thumb on the string of pearls digging in your slit, feeling how wet you are for him as he keeps talking to his client while you're sitting in his lap, doing nothing but looking pretty. You're his slut and he wants everyone to know it, but you have to act cool even as he teases you under the table. You have to control the way you breathe, you can't let even the smallest whimper out. Why is this so hot? Why is he so hot?
In the end, the man hands him a hefty amount of credits and rises from the table with a huff, muttering and cursing as he goes.
"Please, take me back to the ship and fuck me. I won't ask for anything else, please," you whisper sensually in the crook of his neck.
"I'm not done here," he tries to appear impassive, but as soon as you resume your touching between his legs, he jerks slightly. You smirk, satisfied.
"Mando…" you trace the outline of his cock with your fingers, feeling how hard his erection is while purring in his neck. His pants are thick, but as you stop right at the tip, drawing circles on it with your fingertips, you can feel the fabric getting slightly damp.
“You’re so hard…” you sigh sensually as you keep rubbing his cock. You hear a choked grunt from him, now that he can’t focus on his job anymore, now that he’s at the mercy of your teasing. You’re so tempting, acting so shameless in public, the thrill of someone noticing the two of you drives him insane and you know it. You’re finally getting your revenge. You can bet he's close to losing control. Mando is twitching in his pants, his breathing getting heavier and heavier...
"Fuck it." He grabs you by the arm and you rush out of the market and back to the ship.
The Mandalorian doesn't even wait for the ramp to close behind him to bend you over the first crate he finds, kicking your legs open with his feet and freeing his throbbing erection. His gloved hands run up your skirt and position themselves around your hips, keeping you steady for him as he slams into you all at once. He meets no resistance from your drenched cunt whatsoever, leaving you breathless as you exhale in a loud moan. You're crushed between the crate and his beskar body, pleasurably forced to take his thick cock. You're only able to let out ragged groans and clamp tightly around him as he finally gives it to you just like you wanted.
"You. Fucking whore. Couldn't wait for me to finish my business. Wanted this dick so much, hm? Are you happy now?!" his thrusts are furious and relentless, his hips crushing your body against the crate with a devastating force. The angle at which he's hitting you is deep, so deep that you can't even prop yourself up on your shaky elbows. You're just getting brutally fucked without dignity.
"You get so disobedient when you want this cock. Maybe I should just tie you up and gag you?"
You can't even mumble words, too absorbed by the feeling of his cock thrusting inside of you, so aroused at the idea of him using your body for his pleasure.
"You're so wet. Damn. It must have been such a torture, right? To be so wet and turned on? Hearing you beg like that made me so fucking hard. Feel it. Feel what you do to me," he rasps as he rails you deep and hard.
The way the pearls are rubbing against your clit and the perfect rhythm of his thrusts are driving you close to the edge already.
"Mando, Mando, I'm–" you can barely mumble as you helplessly drag your hands against the crate.
"Yeah. Come. Seems like it's the only thing that will make you obedient. You wanted it so much, you can have as many as you want today."
'Thank you, thank you, tha–" your blissful chant is abruptly cut as the orgasm takes control over your body. Your cunt clenches hard around his thick cock and your legs jerk uncontrollably, barely touching the ground as he keeps you still and never stops drilling into you as you ride your high. The pleasure is so intense, it leaves you breathless as your cunt keeps involuntarily spasming around him in aftershock. You're panting against the metal crate beneath you, overwhelmed and reduced to a trembling, feeble mess, the coldness of it is a relief against the hot, flustered skin of your body that won't stop begging for him.
"Is this what you wanted, hm? For me to stop everything I was doing to come here and take care of you? Needy girl. You desperately wanted attention, hm?"
You can only mumble in assent, feeling the way he takes out his rage on you.
"Bet you would've let me fuck you in a dirty fucking alley if I wanted to."
"Y-yes–" you reply in a breathy groan, drenching yourself at the mere thought.
"What a slut. What if someone heard you screaming like that? What if someone heard how wet this pussy is when I fuck it? Fuck, you're dripping!"
For a man who barely speaks in normal circumstances, he sure does like to run his mouth when he's buried deep inside of you.
"Yeah. I bet you'd like it if someone saw me fucking you like the slut that you are," he pants and you start whimpering and clamping around him at the idea.
"I knew it. You're such a whore. But you are mine, and I won't let anyone hear these pretty moans and see this perfect cunt. They belong to me. To me," he growls.
"Yes – yes. I fuck–ing b-belong to you," you repeat mindlessly.
"Does it get this much to get you this wet? Just a string of pretty pearls? Looking so fucking good. So fucking good. Are you enjoying it?"
"Yes, Mando!"
"Shit, you're so tight. You're making me come," he says in a broken voice. His thrusts get erratic, as does his breathing "This cunt is so perfect, so fucking perfect," he emphasises the very last word before bursting, spilling hot and wet inside of you in a ragged groan, whining at how good it feels. His muscles tense and he gets rigid behind you, his head rolling back in pleasure.
"Oh, fuck! You're so hot. Spill all of your cum inside of me. Like this, yes!" you cry and start touching your clit, so turned on at the sight and feeling of his orgasm.
The sounds he makes as he comes are the hottest ones you have ever heard. The infamous Mandalorian – stoic, imposing and menacing – is getting lost in the overwhelming pleasure you’re offering him. Your drenched, tight pussy is making that dangerous warrior crumble. You’re so aroused, you need more.
"Please, please don't stop fucking me!" you dare asking him.
"I won't," he grunts as he keeps burying his dick deep, so deep inside of you.
"Don't stop. Don't stop. Oh, fuck, I need you to fuck me harder, please!" you plead as you feel his cum starting to drip down your hole. "Maker, please!" you say as you start frantically slapping and rubbing your clit as you hear the obscene, sloppy sounds of his cock thrusting in and out of you, of his hips slamming against your ass.
"I won't stop. Fuck, I want more. I can't stop. You drive me fucking insane!" he growls, resembling a wild beast, completely overwhelmed by lust. You feel his cock still pulsing inside of you as you get even wetter.
"Look at this perfect cunt. You're so full of my cum, damn, you can't ever get enough of it, can you? Fucking cum slut. Look what you make me do. Just came inside of you but I can't stop fucking this perfect cunt. You want to drain me. Are you proud of yourself, hm? Making me so fucking hard in public and teasing me like the whore that you are."
"Fuck, yes, I'm your whore. Your slave. I'm so close, please–" you mutter deliriously while your fingers and the pearls are rubbing against your clit in a wet, nasty mess of your fluids and his cum. You come hard around him once again, strangling his spent, sensitive cock in your tight grasp and hear him grunting, his grip on your hips tightens and his whole body jerks, but he really can’t have enough.
"Yeah. Yeah. Come on my fucking cock, whore. Let me feel it." he encourages you, gritting those words between his teeth, fighting his own oversensitivity, so addicted to the way you feel around him.
He doesn't stop fucking you, not even after your orgasm. He keeps railing you relentlessly. You bring your hand to your mouth and suck your fingers, tasting the bitterness of his cum blended with the slightly salty taste of your fluids on your tongue. Its taste is addicting, the scent heady and intoxicating in the best way possible.
"You taste so good, Mando. We taste so good together," you drawl, overwhelmed by pleasure.
"Yeah, I bet we do," he grabs a handful of your hair and pulls it to lift your head up, giving it to you even harder, making your eyes roll back in your head. You are screaming, completely entranced by the way his cock is still pumping hard inside of you.
"So damn loud. You like being fucked like this, hm?"
He hits even harder from this angle, keeping you nice and still for him to use as he pleases. You're so busy screaming that you can't even reply to him.
"Yeah. Scream as loud as you want. Let me hear how much you want it. I like it."
You can feel his cum dripping down your legs with every thrust, hearing the sloppy, squelching sounds your bodies make. Mando can't even restrain himself anymore, he’s moaning and sighing at how much he's enjoying it. Your cunt is spasming around him, turned on at the way he sounds.
"You like it, hm? To reduce me like this?" he says in between thrusts.
The truth is that yes, you do. You love making the Mandalorian falter with your teasing, making him so desperate and boiling with lust, he has to leave business to fuck you hard, so hard that any coherent thought leaves your mind. You love it when you can feel the man under all that beskar, when he makes you feel like the most important and beautiful thing in the galaxy.
"Yeah, you do," he answers himself as he slows his rhythm, slipping out of you completely only to slowly bury himself inside of you to the hilt, enjoying the view and feeling of his cock entering into your cunt dripping with his cum.
You bite your lip to muffle your screams just to hear him moaning and sighing as he feels the welcoming warmth of your cunt.
“Mando. Mando, please,” you beg as you feel your legs impatiently shaking as his shaft rubs that perfect spot inside of you with each thrust.
“What?”
“Harder. Please?” you beg, subjugated by that perfect teasing.
He slams into you so deeply that you feel it pulsing against your cervix.
“What? Like this? Hm?” he says as he starts to jackhammer you.
“Yes, yes, yes, yes,” you chant as you resume touching your clit.
“Greedy whore. Ready for another one? I'm not stopping.”
“Mmmm,” you can only reply as you feel another wave of overwhelming pleasure approaching.
You hear him panting as he gives you a few more violent, deep thrusts, driving you over the edge one more time.
“Yeah. Take it – fucking t-take–” he grunts when he feels your walls clenching around his cock, your orgasm pushing him over the edge, too.
A loud, violent snarl rips through his lips as he comes, filling you with his white, thick load once again. The grip of his hands around your hips turns to steel, your eyes roll up so high all you can see is pitch black as he keeps pumping his cock into you as you both ride your high. The feeling completely obliterates you, turning your body and mind into a helpless, exhausted mess.
A huge, satisfied grin forms on your face as you feel him slowly slip out of you and his cum starts dripping down your cunt and legs.
“Good work," he pants "now be a good girl and wait for me while I go back there. Don’t move one muscle and maybe we will pick up where we left off,” he says as he tucks his spent cock in his cum stained pants, not giving a shit about it, looking at the mess he made of you, disrupted and leaking with his seed. Wrecked, used, marked. His.
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If My Heart Was a House
Pairing: Din Djarin x f!Reader
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 14.5k
Content/Warnings: Mutual Pining, Allies to Lovers, A/B/O dynamics (rut and heat cycles, nesting, knotting, pheromones), jerking off in the shower, brothels, beating up Imperials, Unprotected PiV, Oral (f!Receiving), spit as lube
Notes: Omega!Din and Alpha!Reader, they traveled together pre-Grogu, dynamics are a little different here since I sort of used bird behaviors for Alphas (showy and prefer bright colored clothes). Set between season one and two, asks are open for them if you're ever curious about more. Yes the title is the Owl City song.
“Roast nuna, one credit for five!”
“New durasilk shawls and scarves, treat yourself to core world fashion finery!”
“Please come, look at the fine jewelry made from only the rarest stones.”
Vendors shouting over one another for the attention of the crowd, the sharp roasting scents of meats and vegetables mingling with the tables of spices and heavily perfumed incense made for a chaotic dance through the crowd. Mando and the pollywog were on a hunt for a bail jumper, the armored warrior had tasked you to restock on rations and essentials, leaving you to all of this. Not that you minded much. The explosion of sensation from the sounds, the scents, the feeling of the sun on your skin was a welcome reprieve from the quiet of hyperspace.
Already the ration packs were being delivered to the hauler you’d rented, leaving you to find the cosmetic requirements like soap and towels, opting for low expense and bulk purchases over something indulgent. The number of times towels had been ruined by Mando bleeding all over them, washed as best as they could and then being turned into cleaning rags, it was easier to just buy the cheaper ones.
“A practical traveler.” You looked up at the shopkeeper as she folded some sort of flowy material, it was pearlescent in the light of the sun and stacked on the wall behind her with the rest, and she motioned to the packs of vacuum sealed towels you were holding under one arm.
“Unfortunately, these get turned into cleaning rags far too quickly to risk splurging on something better.” The Omega laughed softly, the musical quality of her voice combined with the warm scent of her pheromones made the hair on your arms and down your back stand up, your mind buzzing pleasantly. As you handed over two packs of towels, a bulk pack of soap sheets, and a hair moisturizer pack it was hard not to look at the bottles of oil for shaving and facial hair care.
Not only were they right there but the sleek bottles were an eye-catching shade of teal.
You knew Mando had facial hair, he’d told you that much when you asked why he had a straight razor, but you also knew that he didn’t use any lather to shave -there was none to be found in the fresher- and that he’d complained about it getting caught in the helmet lining if he went too long without shaving. You snagged a bottle each since the instructions said not to use more than a drop or two, and the Omega’s brows rose before she hummed.
“Part of a traveling flock then?”
“No, uh, ‘m not part of any of that. I don’t like those sorts. This is for a bounty hunter I know.”
In recent years -a few decades now- there’d been groups of Alphas that began flying around the galaxy together, being dubbed flocks with how often they flew, going around trying to bully Omega into a mating bond and even causing trouble in local cantinas doing so. It wasn’t like that sort of thing was unusual for an Alpha to do, your designation had a tendency to be showy bastards and bossy as hell, but you hated being lumped in with all of it.
The flocks weren’t even gender specific, plenty of Alpha women and non-binary Alphas were in these groups being just as brazen and pushy as the males, and while it was true that there were Omega out there who liked partners like that… none of that was you.
“You might want to consider something colorful then, walking around with your head low has eyes on you, people think you’re an Omega.” The advice made you look up and look around the market slowly, making sure it looked like you were just perusing the stalls, and you realized that she was right. Several others were watching you from afar, all of them donning some vibrant article of clothing like a tunic or a jacket.
It was instinctual, the desire to be noticed, something you struggled with because in your line of work -bounty hunting and protecting the baby- that was the exact opposite of helpful. You’d managed a compromise in the beginning with a woven string bracelet that had vivid teal strands mixed in the soft tan linen, made by Winta on Sorgan, but it’d been destroyed a few planets back.
All you could really do was sigh, motioning to the sheets of durasilk she had on the shelf behind her, and the Omega studied you before choosing the one that was a vibrant red shade after holding a few different colors up and comparing them. The material was smooth and soft, light but also durable, with the very faint embroidering of lines that made you think of sand dunes.
After folding the long length of material into a triangle you simply wrapped the ends around your neck and tucked them under the front so that it was draped almost like a loose bandana. A tight knot would give an opponent something to grab on to, to restrain you with, so you kept the ends loose.
Once the rest of your purchases were sent off to your hauler, the small floating cargo speeder being watched over by the owner, you decided that you were done and followed it back to the Crest. You took a pitstop top grab some fresh food, before you had to live off rations again, and made sure to grab more than enough for all three of you,
The eyes that had been on you disappeared, adjusting your body language to present as more confident and aggressive than usual to be safe; Mando was sitting inside the ship when you got there, the ramp was open and he was cleaning one of his many blasters. The sand had gotten into it, you could see the coarse grains being swept away by the light breeze from speeders and haulers moving throughout the shipyard.
“Finished already? I wouldn’t have lingered in the market so long if I’d known, sorry.”
After paying the second half of the holding fee for the hauler you began unloading the boxes, seeing the door to the cot was closed -and likely where the baby was being hidden- you made quick work of dismissing the droid and the Beta in charge of the service. One quick inventory list slapped onto the crates, setting the soap sheets and hair oils into the fresher cabinet, you then went to get the baby so you could give him the roasted nuna you’d bought for him.
His eyes were wide open when you opened the door, your body blocking his form from view, and the excited grab for the roasted meat when you pulled it out of the insulted bag made you smile fondly. For such a curious, trouble-making, little pollywog he was damn adorable and his ears twitched as he tried to shove a whole one into his mouth.
“Small bites, don’t shovel it all in, come on now.”
Sure he’d eaten whole birds and whole mudjumpers before, with no consequences, but teaching him manners was something you were trying to work on. Soup was something he had down, he could sip bowls of soup easily, but whole meals? Rations? It was a work in progress. The ramp began closing and Mando’s steps across the hull were your warning that he planned to take off, your free hand going to the bag on your shoulder.
“I got you something too, Mando, I’ll feed the baby down here so you can eat up in the cockpit. I think one fresh meal after weeks of soup and rations will be good for you.”
You held out the takeaway container in his general direction, if you even looked away from the pollywog he’d scarf the rest of his food down, and you felt the weight of it leave your hand before there was a light touch at the red fabric around your neck. Now you did turn your head, seeing Mando’s helmet tilted as he took you in, and you realized he was probably confused by the sudden vibrancy in your wardrobe.
“There were Alphas watching me at the market, they thought I was an Omega, so I figured this would keep them off my back. Should have expected it, since it’s happened a few times now.” You shrugged off your discomfort at being so bad of an Alpha that you could be confused for an Omega in a crowd, the idea that all Alphas were showy and aggressive wasn’t wrong but it wasn’t difficult to suppress the more aggressive aspects of your designation, which made you think it had to be just you.
Mando’s reply was interrupted when the baby took an accidental bite out of your hand, the sharp sting making you yelp as the pollywog took advantage of your relaxed grip on the food to devour it in one gulp as you inspected the imprint of little teeth in your skin.
“Little bugger, that was mean, you need to be more polite.” The baby looked up at you like you were in the wrong, and of course he would think that since you were slowing down dinner time by insisting he take small bites. Mando seemed to choose retreat since you heard him ascending the ladder to the cockpit, reminding you -yet again- that you were kind of a shitty Alpha traveling with someone who had to be the most prime Omega specimen in the galaxy.
The Crest began take-off so you seated the baby in his pod, to prevent him from flying all over the hull, and settled into your hammock as you waited for the ship to exit atmosphere and enter hyperspace. Eating now while you were still dealing with the slight turbulence of exiting a planet’s gravity was a recipe for disaster.
He had to get it together.
Din scrubbed his hands down his face in the fresher, you’d already showered so the faint musk of your pheromones was7 still present in the air, and it was making his body react very enthusiastically to the unintentional dosing of scent. He had been completely thrown when you’d returned, glancing up only to immediately lower his gaze at the addition to your wardrobe, the vivid red was so eye catching and it looked good on you.
Every instinct to rip his helmet off and scent you had been very thoroughly tamped down as he gathered himself, up until you began feeding the kid; the care you displayed for the baby was like a shot right to his designation’s very nature. When you’d begun feeding the kid it practically purred Alpha cares in his ear, making his heart speed up, and then when you’d so calmly shoved food in his direction too?
Alpha provides had practically echoed in his head on repeat.
As an Omega he was very used to the usual flaunting and preening and prancing that Alphas were known for, independent clients were quick to try and play to his instincts for any sort of discount they could try and get from him. You’d never outright thrown your designation in his face, challenged him when he gave you orders, or even remotely tried to use any sort of pheromone manipulation tactics on him.
Respect was something that always made him take notice and the respect you showed him, by treating him like he was just a person instead of just a potential mate, had created this horribly confusing infatuation that Din had no idea how to handle. He wanted to drag you onto his uncomfortable sheet of barely-there padding so you could cover him in your scent, so he could shut the door to the cot and blacken the space and you could sink those teeth of yours right into his scent gland.
He inhaled heavily to catch the traces of your scent in the thick steam and wrapped his hand around his cock, he was hard and leaking at the very idea of your teeth breaking through his skin as you leaked with his spend. Din couldn’t help but create this fantasy of you taking care of him during his heat, riding him until you were sore and needing his mouth to soothe the ache between your thighs as you used your hand and mouth to soothe the insatiable need to fuck right out of him.
Just the thought of squeezing your plush hips, of your bare skin against his, as his knot locked the two of you in place made him spill all over the wall.
He stared at the ribbons of his seed being washed away by the splash of the water, remorseful that it was dripping down the fresher stall and not your thighs, but Din wasn’t sure how to go about asking. He could just go out there and tell you that he wanted you to scent him, that he wanted you to claim him, but he’d seen the way you always shied away from attention.
Other Omega noticed your calmer, subdued, nature despite being an Alpha and flocked whenever you strut through a town at his side; not-so-subtly trying to entice you to join them for some fun. Offers you never seemed interested in taking up, not that there was an issue with that, and he sighed as he turned the water off to get dry. He knew you weren’t against sex, that you weren’t disgusted or put off by it, you’d confessed to having lovers in the past when your rut would hit.
As he slipped on a new pair of underclothes Din paused at the sight of the very vivid bottles in the cabinet, inspecting the labels and swallowing thickly as a new wave of affection ripped through him. The scent was subtle, not heavily perfumed, which was always an issue with products like this because of the helmet trapping scent or the lining holding the smells; and he set his razor down on the sink and decided to use your gift.
The shave cream created a smoother glide and even his skin felt better, softer, once he rinsed everything off. The oil for the hair he kept wasn’t going to act instantly of course but he wondered if it would soften the patchy beard he kept, the idea that you’d bought this to feel his face rub against yours sent pleasant chills down his spine as Din put everything away and dried his hair before he slipped his helmet back on.
He left his dirty flight suit in the sonic scrubber and as he stepped out to clean his armor he felt his throat catch, you were sleeping in your hammock but had to have shifted around because your undershirt had ridden up and your blanket was half hanging on the floor. One bare leg was thrown over the edge of the fabric and he caught a glimpse of the scant material hidden under what little blanket remained, his eyes shooting to his cot where the kid was also sleeping in his hammock.
Carefully, so he didn’t wake you, Din brought your leg back up into the hammock so you didn’t accidentally roll out; he caught your blanket before it could fall completely and draped it back over you, tugging your shirt down and running a bare hand along your cheek. You crooned and purred softly as you nuzzled into his hand, comfortable with his presence, and Din spotted the red fabric piled on top of your clothes for tomorrow.
He glanced at you, almost afraid you’d wake up, before lifting his helmet and lifting the fabric to his nose; it was so strongly covered in your scent already, enough to make him squeeze his eyes shut and return it so he could retreat to sleep before he did something else even more embarrassing.
You couldn’t be happier that you’d gotten the red shemagh as you draped the fabric over your head and the bottom of your face, the durasilk helping to protect your skin from the heat of the twin suns, and your tech goggles helped obscure the rest of you while giving you a few advanced HUD options to ensure you didn’t lose visual clarity. Mando was on another hunt, he’d taken the baby with him again, while you were off to catch the other quarry in the opposite direction.
Having two quarry on the same planet wasn’t unusual and it was easier to split up like this, though you’d noticed Mando had been a little reluctant to do so today, you chalked his nerves up to the fact that your prey was an Imperial. He knew your history with the Imps, that your little hometown had been victim to raids for years before they decided to wipe it off the galactic maps, that you’d been the one to lead the children away from the destruction and get them to safety while all your parents had died in the assault.
Omega were protective of those they cared for, that was a well known fact, so having any proof of him caring for you even if it was something like this made your heart skip in your chest.
Flipping through your vision options, dimming the glare of the sun and enhancing your view, it was easier to see the start of the small town far ahead in the distance and you could have breathed a sigh of relief. While you had some mild regret for not renting a speeder, seeing as it took most of the morning to walk here and you’d likely have to trek back dragging your unconscious quarry, it was better this way.
Mando’s hunt was a much further distance so he needed the Crest, and when he was done, he’d come find you at the rendezvous location or be waiting there for you. Keeping your face covered as you approached, making sure your posture was tall and commanding as you kept one hand on your blaster, the townsfolk that were out and about all peered at you before returning to what they were doing.
Omegas, all of them, you couldn’t smell a single Alpha in the area and your eyes narrowed behind your goggles since the Imp you were after was an Alpha. Either he was suppressing his scent with pheromone inhibitors or he had moved on and your intel hadn’t been enough up to date, the idea that the little creep at the outpost lied to protect the quarry also presented a possibility.
Seeing as Karga didn’t have a damn tracker for this one, just a puck to your annoyance, and then triggered your natural show-off instincts by challenging your abilities right in front of Mando it was a wonder your mood wasn’t worse.
“Well, hello stranger.” You turned and felt your face warm under your cover as the Omega sent you a flirty wink, the line of her cleavage was very prominently on display and instead of hiding from the sun she had a lot of skin open to sunburns. Instead of remarking on that, like some kind of fucking creep, you cleared your throat and tipped your head in greeting.
The surprised look on her face melted to something pleased as she reached out to play with the end of the durasilk where it draped slightly over your chest.
“You’re a sweet Alpha, I’ve never had one like that, most that come here are bossy. You looking to show a girl a good time?”
“I’m hunting, actually, has another Alpha come through recently?” Using any sort of pheromone or tone shifts against an Omega was something you hated doing but in this case you had little choice, she was too close to her heat and would definitely lose focus if you didn’t, the stern tone and the way you stood up straighter snapped her right out of that syrupy haze of pleasure seeking for now.
“Yea, we got one, he isn’t kind.”
You pulled out the puck to show her the face, earning a nod, and followed her gaze to the unassuming door behind her. You should have guessed he’d find and hole up in a brothel, probably expecting any Alphas that came after him to get distracted by the Omega pheromones within, and you slipped a few credits into the woman’s hand in thanks before reaching under your scarf to slide your respirator filter over your mouth and nose.
Omega pheromones typically elicited the same instinctual responses in Alphas, but every person -Alpha, Beta, or Omega- had their own natural scent that helped create a unique chemical cocktail for others to pick up on. The sleek mask allowed you to breathe but had a unique pheromone filter to make sure you didn’t accidentally trigger a rut, since pheromone exposure was the leading cause of off-season rut incidents.
A few people looked at you as you walked in, no doubt taking in the oversized goggles and mask obscuring your face, but the owner looked relieved and you slid the bounty puck across the table to show her the image of your quarry. With crimes off assaulting Omega, in particular one bonded to an enforcer of the Hutt Cartel, you weren’t surprised that she was willing to give him up as she led you toward the room.
Punching the door switch and walking in on the Alpha choking out the young man he’d paid for, making your blood simmer in outrage, you used a tranq shot and watched the effect kick in immediately.
“I’ll be taking him off your hands, anything he owns is yours.”
Watching the owner fuss over the young man as you dressed and restrained the Imp, tossing him over your shoulder since it’d be easier than dragging the bastard, the young man let out a whine that drew your attention.
“Thank you. I’d like- could I offer you a good time as gratitude for saving me?”
“No, it’s not necessary, you should rest instead.” He looked surprised at your refusal, you knew that you carried no trace scent to indicate you had a mate, but then he smiled and nodded in response. Leaving the brothel, and the town, was easy to a point; you did not count on the Imp having friends though.
When he didn’t see you at the rendezvous point Din kept the Crest moving toward the coordinates you’d gotten for your hunt, you would have left some indicator that you’d arrived and there wasn’t one to be seen, it would be easier anyway. There was something burning in him, a feeling that something was wrong, and the kid had been very cranky out of the blue; if there was one thing Din knew for certain it was that the baby had a connection with you that transcended distance, the crankiness was a bad sign.
As the sand dunes passed by he finally noticed what looked like shapes moving in the distance, seeing you in a full-on fist fight when he got close enough, and Din snarled as he whipped the Crest around to land. The kid shut himself into the bunk and the second the ramp was down he was firing at two of the idiots that turned their attention on him, the sound of your furious snarls as you bared your fangs at the Alpha you had pinned sent a sharp thrill down his spine but Din shoved that reaction down fast.
The quarry was bound, unconscious, and Din suspected you’d dosed him with a tranq -maybe even twice- to keep him from escaping. He could see you’d taken out at least six of them on your own with how many bodies lay bleeding out in the sand, he grabbed your arm to pull you up after saying your name but he didn’t expect your fist to swing and slam into his chest plate. The sharp impact and the crunch of bone -your hand now broken from the impact- elicited a howl of rage that made Din realize you’d been pushed into a rut. He had never actually seen you like this before, this aggressive angry thing that saw anything as a challenge, and the Alpha below you snarled before Din put a shot through his head and wrapped you in his arms as you continued to try and fight him.
“It’s me!” He tipped his head up so that his neck was bared a little more, so that his pheromones could pierce through the veil of your rage, he needed you to calm down so he could get a bacta shot into you and heal your hand. The moment the scent registered he felt you begin to calm, the growls and snarls softening, but Din knew that wasn’t going to be the end of it. He hated doing it but he brought his helmet down hard, head meeting yours, and knocking you out cold with the hit; after stripping the valuables off your assailants and putting the bounty in carbonite Din set you down in the bunk and moved the kid to the cockpit.
The bacta shot was a half dose, since there was bone to mend, and he secured your wrists to be safe since he didn’t know what sort of temperament you’d have when you woke up. Bacta was a lose-lose situation with any Alpha, its healing properties be damned, some Alpha woke up enraged and pushed into a more extreme version of a rut while others woke up beyond starving as their bodies worked double time to burn calories and get the healing agent to wear off faster.
He took the Crest to the nearest town for a supply grab after fetching your broken filter mask from the sand, knowing that if you were the latter you would eat through at least two weeks of rations on your own, and realized that you’d been here. Your scent was soaked into the sand and adobe buildings, the brothel -an Omega establishment- reeked of heat and sex and your scent was mingling with it.
“So, she did have an Omega.” One of the women looked him over, the prominent display of skin and cleavage pretty indicative of being tasked to lure people to the brothel. The food stall owner stacked another box of rations -your favorites, even if they were a little pricier- onto the two boxes he already had.
“She?”
“The bounty hunter, the Alpha, she refused all of us even after saving us from that Imp and being offered a freebie. She was sweet, most of us were sad to see her go, I figured she had an Omega waiting for her.” The fact that you’d refused the others sent a shot of sharp victory and possessiveness through him, you hadn’t even entertained any other Omega despite being in a place that most Alpha would lose themselves to, and even though you had on your respirator and goggles Din knew that if you wanted to you could and would have stayed.
The fact that you hadn’t chosen them, even if you technically hadn’t said you chose him, made his blood sing; he was the Omega you spent your time with, he was the Omega that got to see you feel safe enough to sleep and provide you food and a little home in his ship.
“We’re not… we aren’t.”
“You should probably tell her that you want to be, honey, Alpha like her -that actually respect Omega like us- are far and few between. Not that I think any old Alpha would be able to take you on without a serious fight on their hands, but if she’s what you want you should make it clear before someone else does. Alpha and Omega stereotypes? None of that matters when you really care about someone.”
The woman let him be after that, though she tossed a cheeky ‘you can always tell her she has a fan club here and we’ll treat her right, too, honey’ over her shoulder, and Din paid for the rations before heading back to the Crest with his heart thundering with the knowledge that she was right. Who cared if he initiated things first, who cared if he was the one asked you to claim him, why did he have to wait for you to show interest?
Luckily the kid had not snuck down while he was gone, allowing Din to set down and add the rations to the inventory list before heading up to get the ship into hyperspace, you’d need to be changed and cleaned up anyway and that would be easier without the baby trying to heal you or fuss at you to wake up. Once Din got the Crest into atmosphere, he heard the kid grumble and sighed at the kid’s attitude, placing a hand on his head gently.
“I need you to stay up here a little longer, once we get to hyperspace, and don’t touch anything. I have to clean her up and get her into comfortable clothes.”
He was glad the kid just closed his pod, pouting, and Din’s own growl earned a smaller one in reply; it was kind of cute, honestly, and he began to suspect that the baby -if his species had a secondary nature- was more Alpha than he thought.
You were still sleeping when Din climbed down the ladder, removing his cloak and armor to make it easier to maneuver you and not take up as much space, and he did his best to be respectful as he laid you down on the supply crates and fetched a rag and bucket of water with some soap sheets rather than try to shower with you. The red scarf was tossed with the rest of your clothes into the sonic cleaner, with additional time tacked on for blood removal, and he couldn’t help but run his hands down your skin just to feel you beneath his fingers before getting to work on cleaning you up.
He slipped one of his spare under shirts onto you when he was done, along with fresh undergarments, and part of him preened at the sight of you in the material; knowing you were blanketed with his scent. Sliding you back into his bunk, forgoing any pants because you never slept with them on anyway, Din kept the door open and decided to sleep nearby so he didn’t have to restrain you again.
If you woke up aggressive, he would handle it. “Come on, kid, let’s get some sleep.”
You slept for two days straight, the brace he’d made for your hand to make sure it healed properly had worked according to the basic x-ray he ran, and Din nearly jumped out of his skin when you finally stirred; he’d slept sitting up against the wall while the baby stayed in his pod nearby and your soft whine of discomfort was cut off by the fierce growl in your stomach. The kid woke up to the sound, eager to make sure you were okay, and Din tipped his head up as you rolled and peered down at him. He watched you take in your place in his bunk, his place sitting on the floor without the rest of his armor on and the top half of his flight suit missing, and the baby’s frantic grabby hands.
“What happened after you pulled me off that Alpha and knocked me out?”
“You remember that? Being in a rut, I mean?”
Din knew that it wasn’t fair to assume all the Alpha stereotypes were right, especially since Omega stereotypes were only partially true, but you’d seemed so out of it when he found you. He got up to get one of the ration packs and nearly tripped over his boots when you brought the collar of his shirt up and sniffed it, your eyes lifting to look at him, and then a shy smile bloomed across your face that made his heart race.
“I always remember them, at this point I don’t know if I’m just an outlier but when I do get into a rut, I know exactly what I’m doing. There are things I can’t stop, like when I punched your chest plate, but I’m consciously aware of it happening.”
Din watched you inspect your hand, flexing your fingers and checking for any residual ache, and when he handed you the ration pack he watched your eyes take in the packaging. You rarely purchased anything expensive or indulgent, with how often the two of you ruined everything there was little point, but he wanted to give you this at the very least.
“Mando-“
“Eat.”
You leveled him with a look but nodded, activating the heating element and letting it warm the meal inside as Din got the baby’s meal ready, and he watched as you pulled your legs up and patted the flimsy cushion for him to sit before relenting. The warmth of your arm pressed into his as he sat right next to you, pulling the kid in his lap to feed him, and he kept a careful eye on you as he fed the baby.
After a moment of silence, just a calm between you, he was ready to talk but you beat him to it.
“How would scenting work, with your helmet I mean.”
Scenting was sort of like courting, an old custom that had been started among people being betrothed or engaged, it was a way to tell others that a person had someone who they wanted to mate with already. To ward off unwanted advances, typically romantic; although some Omega women would have platonic Alpha friends scent them before going out to party as a way to ward off unwanted attention.
It required unhindered access to the scent glands right below the ears. The very thought of your skin against his there sent his heart into overdrive, he knew he was releasing strong pheromones when your grip on the utensils tightened enough that he could see the strain in your knuckles.
“A blindfold.”
You nodded at his answer and shoveled food into your mouth, he hoped you were asking because you were interested, and Din sighed again when the baby began to mimic your pace eating. You would need more than one pack though, after all of that, and he could tell you were still very hungry when you finished the first meal off. He gave you a second one and put the baby in his pod since the little one was now trying to snatch at your meal, and Din felt you lean into his side a little more as the two of you sat there together.
His mouth opened, to ask, but he just couldn’t right now. You were recovering from your reaction to the bacta, the kid was right here, and if he started that conversation, he wasn’t sure he could stop it from going too far if you gave him a positive response.
After you finished off the second ration pack he wasn’t surprised when you got up, the shirt long enough on you that you didn’t even need pants, and Din watched as you picked up a bottle of water too before chugging the entire thing. He’d expected you to be ravenous so he simply began cleaning up behind you, setting your cleaned clothes out in case you wanted to change, and you reached for him when he went to get the kid up into the cockpit before the little one decided to join you in decimating the food supply.
You hugged him, making Din shiver as every hair on his body stood on edge, and he cupped the back of your head before pressing his forehead much gentler to yours.
“Is this- is this okay?” He angled your face toward his neck without actually pushing you, the scent of your pheromones teasing him as they slipped under his helmet, and he swore he felt you shiver as he offered you the bare side of his neck. Everything felt still as he waited for your answer, the racing of his heart and harshness of his breathing felt so much more intense, like some sort of pivotal decision was being made.
“Yes, Mando.”
Your breath coated his skin before you closed the distance on your own, accepting his request as you bathed his skin in your scent, the touch of your scent gland and the wash of your pheromones making his head spin. He heard the low coo from the kid, reminding himself that there was an audience, and it was so much more difficult to let you pull away with you wearing his shirt and laying your claim on him.
He wanted to build you a nest, to make somewhere small and dark and comfortable where he could feel every part of your skin against his, the warmth of acceptance making him giddy. Your hold on his suspenders was firm, keeping him still as you moved to the other side of his neck, and Din’s stupid knees began to go weak as you got more confident with your touch.
“Cyare, I- we need to find someone to watch the kid.”
“I know, and we will. I can’t- my hand is still a little sore and I’m still starving so this is just so I know that people are aware you’re mine.”
The possessive growl in your voice made his cock go hard in an instant, and he knew you felt it when you hummed softly, and Din hissed when your teeth teased him gently. “Soon, Mando.”
You had one last job before it was time to turn in the slabbed bounties to Karga, Mando was refusing to allow you to help while you recovered, and you knew that it made sense for you to stay with the baby; your body was finally starting to recover from the bacta dosing, you’d easily decimated a month’s worth of rations in a week as your system recovered from expending so much energy to burn off the medicine.
While you weren’t exactly a liability you knew that Din’s worry was amplified by his feelings for you and by his instincts.
The armored Omega had been firm in keeping you comfortable -as comfortable as one could be on the shitty cushion he called a mattress- and you let him fuss over you, the man naturally cared for those he was close to but his instincts were likely going haywire over you needing to rest up. He had removed your hammock, despite your complaints about how uncomfortable his thin cushion of a bunk was, but you didn’t mind the compromise.
You had not expected for him to strip down to only his undershirt and compression leggings and join you in the bunk, laying on the pad and having you lay on him, and when he’d closed the door so that the space was black he had removed his helmet. The pneumatic hiss was deafening in the space as his modulated breaths softened, as he gave you all of him the only way he could right now.
Never, in a thousand years, would you forget the feeling of his hands holding you against him as he pressed his cheek to yours for the first time. His facial hair was softer that what you expected, it smelled like the oil you’d bought him, and the fact that he used it made you preen that your gift was well-received.
You hadn’t thought about how he kept the kid out of the bunk initially, letting him fall asleep in his pod and sealing him in, but now it made sense. Mando had soaked you with his pheromones and you’d done the same, hands pressed to his pectorals to grip the shirt fabric when he finally kissed you after making your head swim from how strong his scent was and how good it felt to be wrapped in it.
“Mando-“
“Din, my name is Din Djarin and I’d like you to use it, Cyare.”
Avoiding the use of his name had been intentional, he himself had never told it to you, so you had firmly pretended not to hear Moff Gideon use it. Having his permission to do so made you smile against his lips; it was really all you needed to know that this man had truly chosen you out of every other Alpha in the galaxy. You breathed the single syllable name out in a sigh when he pressed your core against the hard line of his cock, when he rocked his hips up and captured your mouth again, and he shushed the rumbling growl that formed in your chest when he nipped at your neck.
“Want to- want to have your first time with me in a nest, would you be okay with that? Waiting until I can make a nest for us?” The idea of him making a nest for you to share sent liquid heat right through you, making your cunt throb as you began to leak into your underwear, you had only ever dreamed of being wrapped up in a nest with this man and to know that he thought about it too?
How could any Alpha get this lucky?
“I’m- I can wait, Din.” Your voice was breathy with desire and he groaned, slotting his mouth to yours as he planted his feet to grind against you, it was heady and overwhelming in the best way as you rolled your hips to meet his thrusts; you didn’t care that he wasn’t going to fill you tonight, that he was going to make you cum from just rubbing himself against you like this because you knew that when he made that nest you weren’t going to be leaving for a long time.
A sharp mewl escaped you when you felt the swell at the base of his shaft, felt the heft of his knot forming, and it made you rock down harder as his pheromones sharpened and his grip tightened and you felt the liquid warmth as he let out a strangled growl right into your mouth; you nearly screamed when one of his hands pulled the gusset of your underwear out of the way to slide two fingers into you as his thumb slid up through your folds to stroke your clit.
He swallowed down your sharp snarl of his name as your clamped down on his fingers, as your slick soaked his hand, and Din shivered beneath you as you nuzzled him and carded your hands through his hair to shower him with affection to temper your urge to sink your teeth into his skin. Din chuckled and you nearly yelped when he rolled you onto your side, so he could curl his broad body behind yours.
“We’ll clean up in the morning, Cyare.”
When you woke up, to him nuzzling you and whispering your name, Din kissed you deeply before putting his helmet back on to open the door of the bunk. The kid was still asleep at least, since it was early enough, so you were able to get into the fresher and wash up before sending the broad Omega in after you; Din’s chuckle when he emerged made you wink, since you’d flooded the steamy fresher with pheromones when you’d finished up.
As you handed him a ration pack to eat, expecting him to take it up into the cockpit, you didn’t expect him to take your shemagh and wrap it over itself several times before holding it out to you without a word. You realized it was meant to be a blindfold and you closed your eyes before turning around, letting him tie the red fabric over your face, and the hiss of his helmet was softened by the space of the hull before your felt him pressing his cheek to yours.
“Shouldn’t take too long.”
“Not with the best bounty hunter in the parsec on the loser’s tail.”
Din preened at your praise, even if it was Karga’s chosen moniker for him, and only when he was thoroughly drenched in your scent did he pull back to sit with his back to yours so you could eat together. The baby wasn’t due to wake up for another hour -you’d managed to get the little pollywog on a sleeping schedule at long last- so neither one of you rushed to eat.
“Keep the ground security protocols engaged, don’t leave the Crest while I’m gone, this area isn’t safe.”
“I’ll keep my blaster on me too, then, just in case.”
“If you could stay up in the cockpit that’d be great, this one is a Devaronian so I don’t want you or the kid in the line of fire if something happens.”
“Din, like hell I’m going to stay up here knowing you could get hurt. I’ll keep the kid up in the cockpit when I know you’re coming back and I’ll stay near the weapon’s locker since you’re going to bring him up the ramp, that way I can tranq him if he breaks your hold somehow.”
“I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“Well, I don’t like that you’re going out there without me to back you up, how am I supposed to make sure you don’t get hurt if you go alone? Do you know how hard it is for me to sit back and let you go while I stay here?”
You felt him pause as your voice exploded out of you, the difficulty of warring with your instincts and respecting Din’s skill was hard, and you dropped your head before setting your food aside to hug your knees to your chest. Din’s arms circled you gently and he pulled you against him after he turned around.
“Hey, no, talk to me Cyare. Don’t hide what you’re feeling, please.” His voice without the modulator was a lovely baritone that made you want nothing more than to just curl up against him in a pile of blankets, to have him whisper praise and affection in your ear. Instead, he was crooning and purring, trying to get you to tell him what was going on in your head after your temper flared.
“Just because I have a better hold of my instincts doesn’t mean they aren’t there, Din. You’ve chosen me to be your Alpha, I’m supposed to be the one that goes out and gets hurt so you -my Omega- can stay here and keep our home safe, keep our young one safe. I’m willing to compromise and stay here but you cannot expect me to stay where I can’t help you if something goes wrong.”
“Cyare, I’m sorry. I hadn’t thought about how you’d feel with me asking you to stay out of the way, my desire to make sure you’re safe doesn’t excuse me from ignoring your instincts and feelings. Thank you for compromising and thank you for respecting me and what I’m capable of, I will try not to forget again.” If it were anyone else you would think it was mildly condescending but you knew that Din meant every word sincerely, that he was learning you just as much as you were learning him, and you huffed softly.
“Thank you, Din.”
A low grumble from the pod made Din let go of you, turning around fast and sliding his helmet on right as the baby let himself out, and you smiled as the little one reached for you when he spotted the rations open. Din got up with his half-finished meal, opening a new pack on the way over, and you finished eating as the Mandalorian fed the baby. As soon as you were done you took over for him and shooed Din away to finish his own meal, watching him slip out of sight into the bunk and poking the pollywog on his little nose when he tried to peer around you.
Din pressed a hand to your lower back after he emerged, his helmet resting against your cheek as he used his free hand to pat the baby gently on the head, and you watched him step away before starting to pull his armor on. You paid attention so you could get an idea of how to take it all off him later, if the need ever arose, and when he noticed your attention on him the Mandalorian slowed his hands and began explaining the steps. After he was armored up, the scent of you still so noticeable on him, you waited at the ramp as he armed himself and smiled when he slid his pulse rifle onto his back as a final touch. He paused beside you as the ramp lowered and you weren’t surprised when Din leaned his head down, forehead tapping yours gently, before leaving to get the last bounty. As soon as he was out of sight you closed the ship to activate ground security protocols, taking the baby up to the cockpit so that you could continue to try and work on talking with him.
He knew his mood was foul as he dragged the Devaronian back to the Crest, the bastard had put him on a chase for two days longer than Din had accounted for and all he wanted was to get back to you and the kid. The entire way back the bastard kept making remarks about you, calling you a shit Alpha for allowing your Omega to do the dangerous work, and it was taking all of his self-control not to put a bolt of plasma through the quarry’s head. Especially since you battled with insecurities about your temperament already, he didn’t want you being brought down by some bail jumper.
It appeared he was lucky, given the late hour, because he got the prey into the ship and slabbed without any sign of you or the baby; climbing up out of the hull and spotting you sleeping with the kid nestled against your chest in the co-pilot chair. He imagined you expected to wake up to the disturbance, and you should have since the bastard hadn’t been quiet, but it appeared the cockpit doors had muffled enough of the sound that you hadn’t noticed.
Din smiled, sitting down and getting the Crest prepped for take-off, and resisted the urge to chuckle when you inhaled deeply at the rapid button presses and switches being flipped; he heard you murmur his name and the baby didn’t even stir when you put him into his pod and closed the door. But Din couldn’t contain the croon he let out when you crawled your way into his lap, pressing your head right under the chin of his helmet, your legs folding over the arms of the seat so you could press yourself as close to him as possible.
He used one hand to hold your lower back, wishing that the plates of his armor weren’t so cold since he could feel your faint shiver, and you answered his croon with a warbly little noise before drifting back off to sleep. Once he had the auto-pilot engaged, the ship into hyperspace, he slipped his arms under your legs and stood up before setting you down and shaking you gently.
“Come on, Cyare, you should be in the bunk.”
“No way, ‘s uncomfortable. Dunno how you do it.”
As he steered you down the ladder, with the baby’s pod following you both, he sighed softly; more at himself, since he slept in his armor it was easier to ignore the pain from such a thin cushion. He made a mental note to get new padding for the bunk, his delight at having you share his sleeping space didn’t mean he could place his comfort above your own. Din joined you in the bunk after stripping down, the hull darkened enough that it was plenty safe, and he slipped his helmet off once you were settled mostly on his chest.
He could feel it now, without any of the armor plates in the way, just how thin and ragged the bed actually was and the way the bars were definitely digging into his back.
“I’ll make sure it’s more comfortable, promise.” He whispered that against the crown of your head as you got comfortable, the low hum you answered with fading into a light snore, and Din couldn’t help but think about the ship’s layout and how he might be able to make it easier for both of you if he just… got the work done. It would take time but Din wanted to be able to have you all to himself for a little while so it would be a win-win, he’d be able to take his time with you and the kid could spend time with other kids on Nevaro while the shipyard worked on his surprise.
With that rough idea mapped out Din closed his eyes to sleep and smiled, wondering what your reaction would be when you did get back to work after the Crest was finished, and he imagined you’d like it.
Once the mechanics gave him a rough time frame, a week and a half total, for the modifications Din gave them half the payment up front and let them get to work; he’d already handled lodging, Karga had given him shit for wearing your scent but seemed pretty pleased for the result. He’d been directed to the entrance that once led to his people’s home, Din hadn’t expected much to happen to the area once the covert was gone but Karga had surprised him, having it cleaned up and actually making something out of it.
You followed after him and looked around, he knew you’d seen the covert in shambles along with Karga and Dune, it was so different now. The walls had been carefully treated with a gloss so they could be tiled with a soft golden white mosaic of tiles, it looked almost upscale, and the nooks used for sleeping rooms had been turned into proper bedrooms with scent and sound blockers; some of the rooms were made to connect to the one beside it, though he had opted against that since Karga was going to keep an eye on the kid for the week.
The space was specifically to appease nesting Omega, being underground it offered somewhere quiet and insulated, the added scent and sound blockers guaranteed privacy. It didn’t really have a name yet, though Karga had mentioned Navaro’s Nests and The Nesting Grounds as choices, but it was functional. As he opened the door to the room Karga had given him Din looked around carefully, checking for any type of cameras or audio bugs, and when the room turned up clear he nodded at you.
The room size, and layout, were about the same except for a few key differences. The walls had also been treated with a gloss to stop falling dust and debris, the bathroom was through a door now rather than just an open walkway, and there didn’t appear to be a bed anywhere. The sleeping nook that had once been carved out of the stone wall had been turned into a seat with a table that folded out of the wall, the cold box and cooktop were across the way.
Din looked around the space and stumbled when the floor shifted under him, your hand on the button that opened the wooden cover on the floor to reveal that the mattress was set into the floor itself and he got down to inspect that area for possible problems like pests or technological bugs. You watched him as he tested the mattress itself, it felt pretty soft, and when he nodded you didn’t hesitate to grab the laundered sheets from the sealed bag the Beta at the entrance had provided you to put them on the bed.
As he stood up he watched you finish the task of making the bed, the octagonal shape was unique though and Din’s fingers flexed when he watched you get up again.
“Is there- I’d like some time to myself here for a little bit.”
“Of course, Din. Trust me, I’ve got some things I’d like to do as well.”
As you left he could only stare at the mattress before nodding to himself and locking the door behind him, steps fast as he headed right for the market, he’d need the spare blankets anyway by the time the work on the Crest was done so this was a win-win situation. A few people balked when he approached their stalls to inspect the things they had for sale, the satins and silks felt smooth under his fingers but he needed them to be perfect.
A new type of excitement sent him reeling on a hunt unlike any other he’d been on, testing the give of pillows and how smooth blankets were, and he ignored all the stares as he leaned heavily into his Omega instincts to nest. The thought of how your eyes would shine in delight when you saw what he made, the desire to see you laying on only the best materials after putting up his with ship for so long, it spurred him on through the market as he practically vibrated with excitement.
Din chose colors he knew you liked, the color scheme coming together by making a few things accents rather than full splashes, and he avoided anything with patterns; he wanted it to be soft and demure, he didn’t want some jagged chevron or whatever it was called drawing the eye among the solid shades. In his head he knew that some of the purchases were frivolous, like the two knit blankets that were an ombre of colors made of soft yarn, but Din couldn’t remember a time he’d ever indulged and if anyone was worth indulging for it was you.
As he got back to the room Din used the sonic cleaner to give everything a good sanitation first, including the sleep clothes he’d bought for himself, and as he waited he inspected the lights and tested just how dark the room could go. He didn’t want you in a blindfold if you didn’t have to be and he purred at the way the room went black when the lights were all off and the door was shut tight. The darkness and the small space made him croon before he began removing his armor and setting it aside for its own sanitation, his flight suit following, and the warrior gave himself a sonic shower before starting the task of making his nest once the cleaning cycle ended.
His helmet and armor went through the cleaner as he worked, a long and thick curtain of black fabric hung in front of the door just in case you returned while he was doing this or if someone tried to get in while you both were sleeping, and the mess of pillows were dropped onto the mattress before he started to place them where he wanted them. Din started by grouping them according to their color and arranging them around the edges to soften the corners, shaking his head at the outcome and mixing the colors up into a random hodgepodge before growling and sighing.
He wasn’t really an artist, not like you were, so it felt a little hopeless as he tried to come up with something that looked right.
Abandoning the pillow arrangement for now turned into layering the blankets, making the already soft mattress a dream, the thick and luxurious tauntaun pelt was unbelievably soft and would be a dream to lay on; the durasilk comforter over that was full of varacytl down, making it fluffy and warm with a soft surface to lay on or under. The knit blankets were folded and draped over two sides of the octagonal ledges just in case, that way if you didn’t want to sleep under the comforter you could choose something lighter, and Din went back to arranging the pillows.
He almost dropped his cloak onto the pile, since it was bathed in his scent, but the scratchy and worn material wasn’t what he wanted you to lay on or with. Instead he turned the lights lower and laid down on the bed, thinking about you coming back to the room, and for the first time in a long time he let himself flood the space with his scent. Din kept his helmet in reach, to be safe, but he laid there bare and thought about your reaction to his nest.
It was almost nightfall and you made your way back to the nest with a skip in your step, you’d gone through and purchased a handful of new things you needed to replace -mostly just socks and compression leggings- as well as a few things you’d just wanted. Tisai had greeted you warmly when you went into her boutique and, after a lot of catching up, she’d begun fitting you few a few specialty lingerie pieces that she ran through the sonic for you so that you could put them on right away.
The tailor was a very dear friend of yours, allowing you to work at her shop to supplement your income when you’d first started out bounty hunting, who also knew that you’d always had eyes for Din ever since you first caught his scent. On top of leggings, socks, and lingerie she’d also given you a flight suit made to your measurements with durasteel plating between the thick layers that were fit to add some extra protection but allow for movement.
You thought about dropping your purchases off at the Crest but decided against it, whatever work was being done to it was definitely big since you’d watched Din change the lock on the weapons locker and key it to his helmet if someone even tried to jimmy the thing open. You hadn’t even seen him do that when Peli was doing work on the ship, which spoke volumes for how in depth the repairs were going to be.
With each step closer to where Din was waiting for you it was like your stomach began to fill with glow flies, you had no real reason to be nervous about what was going to happen but you kind of were, and when you waved at the Beta you earned a soft giggle of a response and a ‘you two are so cute’ called down the hall.
You clicked the comm device on your wrist twice to warn Din that you were outside, not sure of what he could be doing, and yours clicked once to indicate it was safe before you opened the door. The black sheet of fabric in the way made you pause but Din’s voice, modulated, was warm with affection behind it even with the helmet muting his tone.
“Welcome back, that’s an added precaution, it’s safe.”
You stepped around the fabric and closed the door, locking it before turning and staring at the sight of Din on the bed; he was naked except for the helmet, the multitudes of pillows and the plush looking blankets were all in colors you loved and looked so inviting with the fluffy looking comforter hiding his legs from view. The fact that he’d tailored this nest to you made your whole body explode with a soft noise escaping you, the bags you’d been carrying thumping on the floor as you tried not to cry.
“Din this is- it looks so comfortable. You picked all my favorite colors? You really made this for me?” When an Omega tailored their nest to an Alpha’s preferences it was -supposedly- the trust sign of affection on an instinctual level, a way to show that they weren’t just nesting to satisfy their own instincts but doing so to ensure their chosen Alpha felt as invited and wanted as possible.
The reality of how well Din knew you came when he, instead of making fun of you, sat up and reached for you instead.
“I did, Cyare. Will you come here, please?”
“Hang on I- I need to, hold on.”
He tilted his head as you scampered toward the bathroom and you could have kissed Tisai for thinking to pre-wash your purchases and put them in boxes meant to retain that sanitary state. A quick sonic shower had to be done, you were covered in the volcanic dust from Nevaro’s market after all, and you felt your body begin to buzz with desire knowing he was there waiting for you.
The leather corset was designed to rest just under your bust with a ring that looped into the top closure with three straps were attached, the center strap had a leather band that buckled closed to circle your throat while the two straps on the side looped over your shoulders to the rings on the back.
Technically it was designed to be worn over an undershirt because the straps were meant to be used as a place to fasten additional ammunition cannisters, but without the added frills you’d seen the potential for this and asked for Tisai to include the band with the collar as a customization option. You wore it over the teal strapless bra and underwear set that you’d gotten, the fabric contrasting the brown leather and adding the color you’d so desperately wanted to find, the lacy fabric hiding everything and nothing all at once.
Feminine yet as flirty for a Mandalorian as any lingerie would ever get.
You grabbed the blindfold you’d bought and tied it in place, making sure it was nice and tight, before stepping out into the main space. You wanted him to see it without his helmet in the way, the matching teal blindfold was one of many you’d bought -all matching different lingerie sets- and meant to be a way to show him you were never going to disrespect his creed in any way.
“I might have bought some things too, Din.”
The sharp intake of breath followed by the low rumbling whine made your lips tip up, glad that he liked what he was seeing, and you heard the pneumatic hiss of air as he slipped his helmet off before you felt his hands take yours gently. Din guided you into the nest and you let yourself fall onto the pile of fabrics and pillows, moaning at how soft it was and how good it felt on your back compared to the bunk in the Crest.
“This is perfect, can we take this to the Crest? That bunk is a nightmare, I would like to sleep in something this soft forever.” While you were teasing him, he knew you hated the Crest’s bunk because you weren’t going to let him forget it, you also were admiring how good this felt from how soft and fluffy the blankets were to how warm they felt under you. Din’s fingers skirted across your skin, touching the feeling the sturdy leather first.
“Cyare, is this what you occupied yourself with while I made you this nest? Buying things for me to enjoy?”
“So, what if I did, you going to argue with your Alpha?”
“Maker no.”
Din’s reply was more of words mingled with an exhale as he continued to trail his fingers over your body, taking in the sight of you without his helmet on most likely, and you felt him playing with the soft lace fabric at your hips before he cupped your breasts and moaned when he felt your nipples start to stiffen because of his attention to them with his thumbs. His mouth met yours and you smiled into the kiss, luxuriating at the soft fabric below you and the firm weight of him as Din braced himself over you carefully, the long line of bare skin textured from scars as you ran your hands over his bare sides.
It was unhurried, the way he licked into your mouth as you rubbed one of your legs along the bare skin of his hip and thigh, and you scratched at his scalp with one hand while you used your free hand to cup his cheek and angle him the way you wanted his face to go so that you could deepen the already intense kiss.
“Since you bought these for me-” you grinned as he pulled himself from your mouth, he sounded wrecked and you loved it. “-may I ruin them?” His fingers tugged at the lace and you nodded only to whimper when you felt him drag the leaking head of his cock against the fabric. Purposefully smearing precum onto the fabric as he rocked against you.
“You want to cum on my pretty lingerie? Want to paint it with your scent and stain it with your mark?” Din groaned as his forehead dropped to your collar, the hand in his hair tightened to a firm grip that made him throb, and you hooked your leg over his hip to rock up against him as his hips bore down against yours.
“Cyare, ‘m gonna cum.”
“Good, cum for your Alpha, Din; be a good Omega and let me feel you.”
Din practically ripped himself off you to grab his cock, you felt where his cum hit your inner thighs and where it warmed the crotch of your underwear, and his harsh breathing made you wiggle your hips before you nearly jumped when he pressed against your clit through the fabric with firm pressure as he watched you. Your hips rocked against his hand and you gripped the blanket tightly now that you didn’t have anything to hold on to, a moan of his name when Din pressed against your opening and pressed the fabric of your underwear into you as he panted over you.
“Fuck, you’re so wet, you smell so fucking good.” His voice was more growl than actual tone and you felt where he pressed his forehead against the skin just above your underwear, his deep inhale making your pheromones flood the room and his tongue pressed into the skin on your inner thigh where your scent glad was before he sank his teeth into it with a firm bite. It wouldn’t break skin but the idea of him marking you there and claiming you, where only he knew it existed, pushed you over the edge as your slick soaked into the fabric on his fingers.
Din pulled the fabric away and moaned at the sight of your wet lips, his teeth sinking into the fabric of the lace as he used his now free hand to spread you open to look, and your chest heaved when he pressed his nose and face against you to inhale greedily. His pheromones spiked and you caught the hand reaching for yours, rocking your hips against the curve of his nose, and Din pulled the underwear off of you before shoving the wadded up fabric into your mouth and kissing the tip of your nose.
“Hold that for me, Alpha.”
His purr was soft and affectionate, as if he hadn’t just used your cum soaked underwear as a gag, and you practically melted when his tongue licked a flat stripe through your folds. Your strangled -wordless- moan, muffled by the wad of fabric, made him rumble a growl into your cunt that had more of your slick begin to gather at your opening as Din wedged his shoulders between your legs and used his thumbs to hold you open after letting go of your hand.
The feeling of added wetness made you shiver as he let his saliva drip onto your clit, watching it drip down your folds as you trembled for him, and then he sealed his mouth over you to lick up all up before it could fall onto the blankets.
“Di-“ The muffled attempt at his name had your Omega purring, no doubt satisfied as he swirled the tip of his tongue in a way that had your thighs shaking from the attention to your clit, and you felt his hands grip tighter as one of your hands found his hair and grabbed the strands for leverage as you lifted your hips to change where his tongue focused its attention.
“That’s right, Alpha, use me. Teach your Omega where you need him.” Din’s command sent liquid heat through you, he was both taking control and giving it to you, with each place you shifted your hips you knew he was paying attention. Learning where you preferred the flat long strokes of his tongue and where you liked the more focused, intense, tip of his tongue to circle; his messy slurping as your body leaked for him, coating his chin and mouth, was so loud that you almost couldn’t hear your own muffled cries of his name when your toed curled and your muscles locked down as you came hard.
He lapped at you until you were pulling his hair to get him away, when you were so sensitive and trembling and trying to uncurl your muscles, and the lace was pulled out of your mouth before Din kissed you again. His nose, his lips, his chin were all wet with you and he preened when you rolled him onto his back and loomed over him. You knew that he’d prove how much he’d paid attention to eating you out later, the man was one hell of a determined student when he liked the subject, but right now you needed him to fill you.
Din’s strangled attempt at your name as you sunk down on his cock, welcoming the burning stretch from his size, made you preen knowing that you were the one he’d feel from now on; that pride at bringing him pleasure so intense he couldn’t even say your name spurred you on, rocking your hips carefully at first, and the second you had a solid rhythm you planted your hands on his pectorals and lifted yourself off just enough before sinking back down while keeping that rhythm of your hips.
His hands held your wrists tight and even though you couldn’t see him beneath you there was no mistaking the tension in his chest and ab muscles, the way his thighs felt so damn sturdy each time you sank down against him, and his breathing was harsh as he squirmed beneath your body. Like this he hit deep, his cock dragging through your cunt and hitting areas of you that you were sure none of your past lovers had ever touched, and you were leaking a mess of wetness down his shaft and balls.
The slick sounds and harsh breathing, the way he whimpered for you, it made you move your hands to tug the cups of your bra down.
“Going to just ignore my breasts after I dressed up so pretty for you, Din?”
His needy whine as he sat up, using one of his hands to brace himself while the other held your side, it made you dizzy with delight that you did that; his mouth closed around your nipple before letting it fall out of his mouth with a pop, circling it with the tip of his nose, and then bringing it back into his mouth as you adjusted to the new angle of his body. He must have noticed the way you fluttered around him and Din nipped at the stiff tip before the hand on your side moved to take over where his mouth had just been as he moved to give your other breast the same attention.
“My Alpha likes it when I play with her nipples? Yeah, you do.”
Din crooned when his words made you clench down on him and you could feel another orgasm right there, the way his teeth set into your skin and the way he pinched your other nipple and tugged was like a line right to your cunt and your orgasm was a frantic and powerful thing as you felt where you were smearing every bit of your release along his shaft where the swell of his knot was growing.
“Knot me, Din, lemme- lemme feel it.”
Your plea made him snarl as he planted his feet and bounced you on him, the hand on your breast moving to pull you down after each thrust as he fucked into you with the sheer purpose of filling your body with his knot. A sharp whine escaped you when he thrust up once, the bulge of it making you breathe heavily against the size of it, but your Omega wasn’t going to be deterred now that you asked for it and Din pressed his mouth to yours as his knot caught and swelled with his orgasm. You rocked down against his hips, against his knot, as Din licked into your mouth and trembled while he trembled and panted at the feeling of you clamped around him.
“So good to me, feel so good, Din.”
“Wanna- wanna fuck you so full Cyare.”
“Yeah?” His syrupy, soft, answer made you smile and Din clicked the lights off before pulling you down and laying so that most of his weight was on top of you; he couldn’t exactly pull out without it possibly hurting anyway and you didn’t mind the arrangement at all.
He was sweltering, the room felt unbearable, and Din blinked awake through the darkness before getting up to go to the bathroom; he turned the fresher light on after closing the door and stared at his reflection, washing his face and marveling a little at how his back didn’t hurt for once. He kind of understood now why you complained a lot, the fact that there’d be a proper bed in the Crest was starting to look like a bigger plus than before. He cleaned up and stared at your sleeping form in the doorway, the warmth returning the second he smelled your pheromones, and Din felt a little like an idiot.
Suppressing heats wasn’t unusual but the longer you went without one often led to more intense heats, he usually timed his heats with times he came back to Nevaro for extended periods like basic repairs so he could shut himself away and the others of the covert could make sure he was safe. After the covert was exposed though he’d been forced to suppress it for when you kept the baby with you on hunts and he could shut himself away in the Crest, you’d offered after he explained it when he asked for the extended alone time and Din had appreciated your respect for him by just doing what he asked.
Most other Alphas would insist to stay and help.
Din knew he’d fallen in love with you before then but that moment, when you’d accepted his right to privacy, had been what finally pushed him to accept that truth. Din felt the stirring of his heat and smiled knowing that this time you’d be here, and willing, and he sank back into the blankets to nose at your cheek after making sure the room was darkened again.
“Cyare.”
You murmured a reply, adorable in your sleepy state, and he nipped at the shell of your ear. He could tell the moment you realized what was happening, your body shifting, and you captured his face in your hands to kiss him deeply.
“Mmm, your heat is here, you want me to roll over?”
“Please?”
He felt your lips curl up before you were pulling away to shift to your stomach, sliding your knees under you, and Din couldn’t help but bury his face into your wet folds first where the taste of you and him was mixed together. He grabbed you and held you in place, his thumbs pressing into the skin of your thighs as he pulled to hold you open for him, and you were trembling as he not only cleaned up the remains of before but worked to get you nice and wet. It was always intense in the beginning, during his heats, and he’d spent so long handling them alone that he didn’t know how to let an Alpha take care of him just yet.
But you? You were willing to let him use you, to submit to him, and that was what he didn’t understand but also fucking adored about you. It was easy with you and as your release smeared along his tongue after your orgasm Din couldn’t give you recovery time, he just couldn’t, his cock was so hard it hurt and you were fluttering around him from your orgasm as he sank into your wet heat.
The feeling of you clamping down on him was so intense and he draped himself over your back, forcing you to drop your face into the mattress as he pressed his hands over the back of yours and making you arch your spine as he drew back and fucked into you. It was the high pitched, sharp, sound of his name on your lips that ripped through all conscious thought; the scent of your pheromones dizzying as they changed in response to his, and he couldn’t stay still any longer if he tried.
The wet sounds where he slid into you again and again weren’t nearly as loud as his breathing, as the mewling of your voice each time his hips met yours, it was so much but it wasn’t enough and he nearly lost his mind when your back arched just a little more. His mind blanked at the way your mouth stayed open, the way he could see where you were drooling because he was fucking you so good, and Din’s blood roared as he felt his knot starting to swell.
“Fuck- fuck Din, gonna cum-“ The sharp whine and the way you clamped around him ripped his own orgasm out of him, his knot catching and locking into place, but he couldn’t stop from thrusting harder into you; from grabbing the front of your thighs and pulling you as he imagined fucking his seed right into your womb. The idea of you swollen with his children, bringing new life to the covert, made Din see stars as a second orgasm followed almost immediately after the first.
One of his hands moved to run his thumb along your lips, wet with drool, and he groaned when your tongue darted out to lick his finger before he let you suck it into your mouth.
“Fucking perfect, Cyare, my Alpha.”
He felt the way you fluttered at his praise and even though it was a little bit of maneuvering, without pulling out, he managed to help you get on top of him. What he hadn’t expected was that you truly meant you’d take care of him, the second his knot was small enough that he could slide out of you and his blood started to heat up again your hips rocked and you shifted to face him before grinning.
“Don’t worry, my Omega, I’ll take care of you.”
He almost wheezed when you began to ride him like he hadn’t reduced you to a trembling, drooling, mess and Din was lost to the rush of his heat as you leaned down to lick his ear. “Maybe, when we’re ready to retire, I can take out my implant.”
If Karga suspected what happened he didn’t say anything, just handing you the baby and letting you be on your way as Din finished up paying the mechanics at the shipyard, and you knew the little one had missed you by the way he was clinging to you instead of riding in his pod. You thought about the way Din had promised that the moment he got in touch with his covert again, wherever they were, he would make sure they knew he had chosen an Alpha -and been chosen in return- so that you’d be allowed to see him.
For now you just had a surplus of blindfolds, all of which Din had eagerly asked you to wear throughout the course of his heat, and you couldn’t remember a time you’d felt this pleasantly relaxed as you spotted the Crest come into view. There was an ache between your legs that wasn’t at all unpleasant, it was in fact a very pleasant reminder, and when you spotted one of the human mechanics leaning your eyes narrowed as you approached.
“You sure I can’t do anything else for you?”
“We’re sure.”
Your voice was sharp, a snarl of warning, and the guy turned to look at you before losing all the color in his face at the sight of the kid in your arms and the scowl on your face. No doubt realizing that it was your scent that was clinging so heavily to Din’s body.
“Right, uh- I think I hear my name being called.”
He wisely ran, moving faster when he watched you hand the baby to Din, and when he was back in the safety of the city walls Din chuckled as he pressed the forehead of his helmet to the side of your face.
“I like that you’re possessive.”
“Damn right I am, you’re mine.”
Din purred at your declaration and followed you into the Crest, you pressed the button to open the bunk before staring at the space that had been turned into a tiny room with a little bed specifically for the baby. When you looked at Din he simply hummed and began heading up to the cockpit, the ramp closing, so you left your belongings that you’d packed on the hull floor and followed him up to strap in.
But he stopped and pointed to the space that had once been storage for live captures before he slabbed them, or if they had to be returned outside carbonite, and when you opened the door your eyes widened as you took in the bed that was now there. The plating was different and when Din closed the door you realized he’d gotten plating the dampened exterior sound, specifically for to the reactor room right behind the wall, but it was an actual room and a bed.
“What-?”
“This is our room, figured I couldn’t let my Alpha be miserable with our sleeping arrangements.” He even had a space for his armor, a nook for his helmet to sit in right by the bed, and clothes storage space; you turned to look at him and hummed softly, tugging his helmet so you could tap your forehead to it gently.
“Thank you, Din.”
“You’re welcome, Cyare.”
As he went to the cockpit to take off, since he had a possible lead on the Jedi after a comm from Peli came through, you went down and collected your clothes to put them away. You went to sit in the co-pilot seat as Din finished prep for take-off but he tugged you into his lap and you went willingly, taking over some of the work for him, and Din held you close as the Crest began to lift off.
“Ready to find the Jedi?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be, let’s hunt down a space sorcerer.”
“You’re adorable, Cyare.”
“Damn right I am!”
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Just Pedro Taglist: @maievdenoir @beecastle @littlemisspascal @writeforfandoms @aynsleywalker @lovesbiggerthanpride @mswarriorbabe80 @emiemiemiii @harriedandharassed
#the mandalorian fanfic#din djarin x f!reader#din x f!reader#the mandalorian x f!reader#star wars fanfiction#A/B/O verse#A/B/O dynamics#cw smut#cw piv
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Please for the love of everything Din x “Keep your eyes on me.”
I am f e r a l for this man
Oh, my darling. This got SO far away from me. I am so sorry. I hope you like it anyway. <3
I See You
Din Djarin x f!reader ; 1.8k words
Warnings: Takes place before the show, after Mando leaves Ran's crew. It's very melancholy, this is your warning. Yearning, tension, PinV sex (unprotected), fingering, a smidge of cumplay. The helmet stays on, babes. Younger Mando makes some poor choices.
Series Masterlist
*
The sun has long ago set on your lush little planet, leaving the world dark with only the fireflies to light the path to your small abode. He lumbers down the twisted path, much too exhausted to care that he’s making so much noise. He knows you’re alone out here, he scanned the area before stepping out of the Razor Crest. Not even a bordok is wandering out in the distance.
It’s just you.
He needs to lay low for a spell, to get out of the skies and hunker down somewhere safe. They’d be looking for him, at some point.
He makes it to your door, beating on the wooden planks with his fist until you finally swing the door open. You’re clearly still half-asleep, and look as angry as a worrt.
“Mando? What the hell are you doing here?” you demand, eyes wide with surprise. He’s filled out a bit since you last saw him, his shoulders somehow even broader than before. His arms are clearly bulkier as well. It had been almost four standard years since you last saw him, after all.
He clears his throat. “Can I come in?’
You cross your arms over your long sleep shirt. “Who’s after you this time?” You’re not about to repeat what happened before when he pissed off the local spice runner, just as he was starting his bounty hunter career.
He rests his left thumb on his belt, his right hand fidgety at his side. “No one right now, not really. I just need to keep the Crest offline for a while. I’ll explain everything, just…let me in.”
You sigh and step to the side, wondering internally why you bothered to put up a fight. It’s not like you wouldn’t go to the edge of the galaxy for this man if he asked. Not after you hemmed and hawed first, but still. He’d saved your life, after all, before he helped you escape to where you were living now.
Memories come rushing back when you see him standing in your little house, with one hand on his hip and his leg cocked out. You never thought you would see this image again. Or see him again.
“So?” You ask, mirroring his stance.
“Can I sit?” he asks, motionless as a pillar. He’s gotten better at that, you think to yourself. Being intimidating without moving a muscle.
You go sit at the tiny table and watch him fold himself up into the chair across from you. You stare, and wait. Mando always took a moment to find his words, never one to spill his secrets.
The story comes out, slowly at first like a trickle of water falling down a leaf. He’d fallen in with a rough crew, led by someone named Ranzar Malk. Something had gone wrong - really wrong - and he needed to leave. Mando wasn’t usually the squeamish type, so you knew that his reluctance to talk about it meant that it had to be really bad.
You didn’t ask questions. You just listened. When he finally stopped talking, you reached out and took his gloved hand in yours.
Preemptively answering the question that you knew was coming next, you told him he could stay as long as he wanted. There was a lot that you needed to say to him, but tonight wasn’t the night. He looked like he was carrying the weight of the world on his beskar-clad shoulders, a far cry from the cocky young man that left you so long ago. You make him a plate of food and leave him to eat, giving him the privacy he needs to take off his helmet.
You roll out a little pad and put some bedding on the floor, not knowing if he would stay here or in his ship. You go back to your own bunk, the adrenaline in your body finally wearing off.
**
In the morning, you damn near trip over Mando as you walk out of your room.
“Oof- Mando! This is not where I left you last night,” you grumble, stepping over him and heading to the kitchen for some much-needed caf.
He doesn’t know how to tell you that he slept at your door because he wanted to make sure you were safe. Never mind the fact that he’d been gone for years, leaving you presumably alone. He follows you into the kitchen and sits back down at the table, watching you move around the room before joining him at the table.
“Where’s Shankari?” he asks you, bemused at how you still curl yourself around your morning cup of caf.
That sends a pang to your heart. “That old tooka-cat died about a year ago, Mando. She’s buried out under the tree where she used to harass all the birds.”
He’s silent.
You’re silent.
“A lot’s changed, hasn’t it?” he asks you quietly, voice cracking a bit through the helmet.
“Yeah. And nothing at all, it seems,” you reply, taking a long sip of the hot beverage. It burns your tongue, and you’re grateful for the excuse not to talk.
This continues for weeks, this odd dance between the two of you. You’re frozen in time, suspended between the way you knew each other from before and whatever the future held for you both. You’re content where you are, happy to live a quiet life amongst the trees. You know it’s not the life meant for Mando, but he hasn’t figured that part out yet. You realize that nothing you can say to him right now would help anything, so you let it all go. The hurt you carried from before doesn’t matter right now.
Like a kettle that’s slowly coming to a boil, he can feel the pressure building and the temperature rising between you. When he isn’t making upgrades to the Crest, he’s sitting back and watching you. He watches as you bake bread and mend clothing and talk to the trees outside. The feeling that builds in his chest is scary and unfamiliar, and something he can’t put a name on.
You smile at him, and it’s so different from anyone else before. Not that there’s been many. But there were the young Mandalorian women in the coverts, and whatever the kark that thing with Xi’an was. He might love you, and it’s getting harder to ignore. Especially when he thinks you could love him too.
The proverbial kettle boils over one night when you fall asleep on him in the living room. The beskar (minus the helmet) had been shed weeks ago, and you had taken to curling up with your head on his lap in front of the fireplace at night.
Din didn’t tell you those were his favorite moments of the day.
You wake up to his finger tracing circles on your arm, and look up at him. “Am I bothering you?”
“No.” He continues tracing along your bare skin, then across your belly and up, up, up slowly over your shirt in the valley between your tits. He watches every expression on your face, looking for any sign that he should stop. You only nod at him from where you lie across his lap, and he dips his hand under your shirt.
He cups your breast with his large hand, rubbing your nipple to a stiff peak with his thumb. You moan at how good it feels, and how warm his rough hand feels. He draws his hand out of your shirt and instead dips down into your pants. All the while his visor is trained on your face, watching every minute expression of arousal dance across your beautiful features.
When his finger finally pushes into your wetness, you dare to look down to see his hand moving in your sleep shorts.
“No,” he commands gently, “Keep your eyes on me.”
Your eyes snap back up to the t-shaped darkness staring back at you. You’re not sure if it’s the glow of the firelight or your imagination, but you swear you can see two big eyes staring back at you.
He gets you so wet that the squelch of his finger moving in and out of you should be embarrassing, but you both think it might be the hottest noise you’ve ever heard. You whimper when he pulls his hand out of your shorts, but he quickly helps you into your bedroom and is peeling off your clothing, situating you in bed.
He leaves his helmet on, of course, but strips down quickly himself. He pumps his stiffening cock in his hand as he watches you - always watching you - spread your legs out for him to shimmy between.
Then he’s easing himself into your aching cunt, and you wrap your arms and legs around him. His pace is tempered but far from gentle, years of unresolved feelings and the weight of what his life has become compelling him to get as deep inside of you as possible. You accept every inch of him, every snap of his hips and grunt from his mouth, and scream out his name when you come.
“Mando, Mando! Oh, stars, yes!”
As your pussy flutters around his length in the aftermath of your orgasm, his page quickens.
“Din. My name is Din. I just- please, look at me. Keep your eyes on me, sweet girl,” he begs, barely moving in and out now as he just ruts himself against you.
“Din. Din, I see you. I see you, Din.” You stare at his helmet, past his helmet, and he swears you can see into his kriffing soul.
He pulls out and comes on your stomach and your wet curls with a low moan, watching rope after rope decorate your skin. He wishes more than anything that he could rip off his helmet and kiss you when you reach down and scoop up some of his cum with one finger, bringing it to your mouth and sucking on it like candy.
“Dank farrik,” he mutters, taking one last look at you before fetching a cloth to clean you up. After, you pull him into bed with you and immediately fall asleep in his arms. Din, on the other hand, doesn’t sleep a wink.
**
When you wake up in the morning, you’re alone in bed. You stumble out to the kitchen for your morning caf and instead of finding Din waiting for you at the table, you see a note leaning against the canister of grounds. Your heart sinks, and you almost don’t need to read it.
You read it anyway. In somewhat messy, capital letters it says:
I’M SORRY. I’LL BE BACK WHEN I’M THE MAN YOU DESERVE.
#well this is far from a drabble but I'm counting it#din djarin#younger din djarin#pre-show din#din x f!reader#there's a lot to unpack with this man
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I’ll be going back to Breaking the Rules and SNAFU shortly but wouldn’t mind touching on one of these first!
I’m also always open for requests! Drop me an ask!
#pedro pascal#fanfic#ao3 fanfic#pedro pascal characters#the mandalorian#joel miller#smut#din djarin#mando fanfic#mando fanfiction#din x reader#din x f!reader#din x female reader#joel x you#joel the last of us#joel miller x female reader#dieter bravo x you#dieter bravo x female reader#dieter bravo#dieter bravo fanfiction#polls#poll#viwrites#vi#viwritessmut
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Fear pt. 7
TEETH ROTTING AMOUNT OF SWEETNESS.
I literally fell more in love as I wrote this uhflahfuhuhu
part 6, masterlist
sweetness and fluff, sort of confessions, light cursing, just pure sweetness
-rose xx
Pt 7.
Her hands were on me, carelessly driving me crazy with desire.
I laid her back on the soft ground, sweet grass mingled with her familiar scent.
I think she’s been using my soap.
“Y/N...I” I started, in something that could only be described as a whisper so soft that it hardly existed.
“Yes, Din”
Her doe eyes bore holes into me and the way my name looked on her mouth as she formed it was quite truly one of the most beautiful things that I have ever been lucky enough to witness.
“Im glad you stayed”
And I’m in love with you , I want you in my bed and I want to tangle my fingers in your hair
“Me too.” She stated with a soft smile.
Heat rose through my body; I’d swear to you that it warmed my armor to the touch. I was too nervous to say anything more and I just sat there, staring at her. her.
She reached up and traced the lines of my helmet. My breath hitched, and she apologized.
“No... no, it’s okay” I replied, taking her withdrawn hand in mine and letting her trace more.
We sat like that for a long while. In silence. Blissful silence, someplace that we didn’t have to listen to blaster fire or avoid anyone. It was just us. Completely.
Thats when fear and insecurity set in. If I fell anymore for her, I’d reach the point of no return, fuck, lord knows I already have. I’d get her killed. I was reckless and dangerous. She was purity, even if she only saw herself as a bounty hunter. I could see through the rough exterior and saw the gentleness in her.
I had been watching her the night we met, before I ever came up to her.
I was in that bar for a reason.
When I watched her walk the streets of Tatooine and pick up a small Childs toy, help an elderly shop keep, and nod at other people... I couldn’t help but test my morals and wonder if I really wanted to bring this person in. Of course, then, I thought I was stalking a ruthless man of a killer. All the stories and comments I had to go on to find her... they all described her as a man. It was only a mask, and to me, that had more meanings than one.
Her bounty was high and it wasn’t until I realized that she was wanted by an imperial sergeant that I had made my mind up. She wasn’t deserving of the criminality that surrounded her. If the empire hated her... I had no choice but to at least respect her. Let alone fall in love with her
With the fear of our reality setting in, I shifted away from her and stood up, making my way back to the ship.
“Where are you going?” She called out, kind but concerned.
The suns were beginning to set and the way it hit her skin... it was nothing but pure grace personified.
“Im sorry...but I dont think we should do this.”
“Do what” she asked in the most genuine tone, now jogging to reach my side. Her side of me.
I realized I may have just fucked up... did I read everything wrong? Could she not feel the same-
“Din”, her small hand on my shoulder made me wince as if it hurt physically when it really just hurt to have someone as good as her touch me so kindly. So warmly.
“Din, we don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. Do you not want to stay here any longer?”
I couldn’t help but chuckle at her innocence and genuine concern for what I wanted to do.
“No...thats not what I meant” I trailed off, but she didn’t push me. She was too kind.
I couldn’t even touch myself to the thought of her anymore, it felt disrespectful. If I were to use her like that... it’d be with my hands on her instead of me.
///////////////
I couldn’t tell if I was terrified or it made me fall deeper to think that he was feeling the same things I was... but I was too terrified to bring it up any further. I just walked next to him, testing the waters by letting my hand graze his.
He seemed to instinctively flex his hand every time mine met his.
We were aimless wanderers in this unexplored wilderness, both our hearts and surroundings.
I put up the act that I was an expert... I could flirt my way out of anything.... But no ones ever made my heart race like he does.
I’ve never even been with another person, really. I had a few flings, touches, kisses, but I never let them come back with me.
Everyone felt wrong before him.
I’d never been in love before but I think this was close. It had to be.
“Din” I said, breaking the silence. I couldn’t stop saying his name since I heard it “Im glad you came into the bar earlier, to stop that man.... I know why you did now. Why you really did.”
He stopped, “You do?”
“I do.”
He didn’t push it like how I didn’t push him.
He just grabbed my hand.
#din djarin#fluff#tooth rotting fluff#the mandalorian#mando fluff#Din Djarin fluff#Din#Din x f!reader#sweetness#Mando fic#Mandalorian fic#Star Wars#Star Wars story#part seven
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push & pull
5.7k | din djarin x f!reader
summary: after convincing him to help you hide from the guild, you teach mando how to enjoy himself. this is the way.
warnings: smut (duh), 18+, mdni. canon-typical violence, but otherwise it's super canon divergent. din is a touch-starved virgin, soft touches, lap-sitting, the helmet stays on, mask kink, din does lots of whimpering, experienced!reader, mutual masturbation, virginity loss (m), praise kink, creampie, brief aftercare at the end.
note: look me in the eye and tell me he wouldn't crumble at the thought of skin-to-skin contact. yeah. you can't. anyways this is so long and so self-indulgent. pls forgive me. if mando takes his helmet off by the end of this, mind ur business this is sooooo not canon.
note p.2: i'm so sorry this took so long but i was hungover. also this was not meant to be this long. so count this as a big fat thank you for 1.4k as well as my bday present to you guys (for my bday.) impaired editing i apologize.
With the light of both suns in your eyes, forcing you to blink the spots from your vision, you brushed a hand across your forehead. The dry, dusty atmosphere of Tatooine was no joke, and you scowled under the cloth you'd brought with you to cover your mouth and nose.
"Figures," you mumbled to yourself, looking down to see a small pile of sand building on the tops of your boots, the wind blowing it into place. "Why would anyone choose to live here?"
Of course, you weren't looking for a resident; you were looking for a fugitive. The infamous Mandalorion, no less. You'd been given less-than-satisfactory information on the bounty hunter and the reasons for such a high reward for his capture, but it wasn't like you had much choice than to accept the job. Despite what you told yourself, you did actually need the money.
That was before you'd figured out that everyone else in the Guild had been tasked with the same job, turning a high stakes bounty hunting gig into a near-definite suicide mission. Something you didn't want anything to do with.
But alas, here you stood, practically sinking into the hot Tatooine desert. You had to keep shifting your weight to keep at least one foot above the surface. You never knew when you'd have to make a quick getaway. There were still a handful of Guild members left that presented a challenge to collecting your bounty, and of course they were the most dangerous ones.
You kicked a foot forward and watched the sand shift, cursing the trouble that was inevitably on its way. You'd managed to bribe your way to Tatooine, where the Mandalorian was apparently hiding from the Guild. And if you had found the Mandalorian, there was almost no possibility that the others hadn't found him.
Because, if you were being honest with yourself—the one task you excelled in—being a bounty hunter wasn't exactly something you were good at. In fact, you were far from it. With luck and just enough anxiety to keep your feet moving, you'd floundered your way through three years in the Guild, searching for a way out just as quickly as you'd begged for a way in.
So you'd gotten yourself into this mess. Wasn't that how it normally went, though? Quick decision-making skills weren't necessarily a blessing if the decisions you made would determine your chances of living past thirty (spoiler: the chances were significantly slimmer).
You rubbed the dust out of your eyes once more and saw some movement in the distance, the subtle glint of beskar blinking toward you as it reflected the sunlight. Gotcha, you murmured inwardly. The Mandalorian was here, and you were going to get him. Not to turn him in, no; you held no loyalty to the Guild and its cult-like policies.
This job was an escape mission. If he could stay hidden, maybe he had room for one more. You'd cut a deal.
There had to be something you could offer him, if not your skills in combat, or stealth, or—
Or simply human mobility, you groaned inwardly as you felt your ankle roll underneath you, the sand softer than you'd anticipated. It'll be a good day when I leave this damn place.
—
It was a wonder that the two of you had survived. You'd hardly gotten the chance to give your proposal before he was aiming his blaster at you, and then at the Guild members that showed up in droves behind you. It was all you could do to get out of the way, knowing you'd be hopeless in the fight.
Now, with their bodies scattered around your feet, the Mandalorian standing a few feet from you with his chest heaving, and his beloved ship somehow still functional, you had your chance.
"You're not...very good at this," he said, the helmet masking his voice in a way that made it scratch along the insides of your ears as it traveled to your brain. "You do know that?" he asked, but it sounded more like an accidental insult than a real question.
You threw your hands up, letting them fall heavily to your sides. "Yeah, I told you that," you scoffed. "That's why I'm asking to go with you. Wherever you're headed."
His head tilted, the beskar shining in the setting suns, and you wondered what his eyes looked like under that helmet. Would they be sparkling with mirth or lined with mockery?
"I thought you were kidding," he said sheepishly, shifting his weight. "To get me to underestimate you." He looked like the picture of careful relaxation, although his blaster was still held tightly in both hands, poised in case he needed to aim and fire.
You couldn't help the exasperation in your tone as you lifted your head to the sky, squeezing your eyes shut and placing a curled fist over your eyes. "Why would I do that when I don't want to turn you in?"
He didn't answer.
"You know that there's only two ways out of this, right?" He still didn't answer you, just held his blaster taut and his head tilted to the side, so you continued. "You killed every Guild member that's left. Now it's just you and I. If I don't bring you in—which I'm not exactly dying to do—those rich fucks that are more powerful than us are gonna come find us."
"Find you," he corrected. "Why would I want to add another target to my ship?"
You shrugged. "Yeah, they probably will. But that's only part of the first option. Either they come for me, and you leave me here, and I die—also something I'm not particularly thrilled to think about—or the two of us..." you gestured with your hands to imitate the pair of you getting on the Razor Crest and flying away from Tatooine and its dusty expanse of a landscape.
"Could be a third option," he said quietly, "if you think about it." He lifted his blaster until it was lined up with your chest. "I might just kill you and cut my losses."
Fear might have struck you, but you didn't have the energy to entertain the panic unspooling in your chest. "That wouldn't be very humanitarian of you. Besides," you insisted, hands lifting to portray the image of surrender, "I'm light. I'm quiet. I won't stay with you longer than I need to. Once you get me off this planet, I'll find a place for you to drop me off."
He didn't answer for a moment.
"Literally," you pushed once more, "you can open the back door and push me out for all I care. I just want out of the Guild and all their dumb shit."
You'd known Mandalorians to be quiet, pious, and ruthless, but something about the way his helmet betrayed no hint to what he was thinking or how he might respond...it made you more anxious than you'd ever been in your life. Finally, he spoke, his voice calm. "Well...you're not coming with me. Ship's full."
"Your ship?" you said, incredulous. "That thing would be gone without me."
"Damn luck, that was." His voice had gone hard, but his body was still.
This was...partially true. Your mind flashed with a memory of the way you'd accidentally pulled the trigger on one of your blasters, effectively stunning the last Guild member who'd been attempting to strap explosives to the hull of the Crest. It was the only good thing that you'd done all day.
You curled your lip, annoyance rippling off you in waves. Lifting a middle finger in front of the helmet, you scowled. Hope he can see this under all that beskar, you snarled inwardly. "Still counts."
With a soft huff that you could hear come from under his helmet, the Mandalorian lowered his blaster. "One jump into hyperspace. The first little space rock that's big enough to stand on—"
"Perfect," you interrupted firmly. "I'll be out of you...armor...soon enough."
—
You'd missed your stop about three years ago. One jump into hyperspace had turned into four, and then ten, and...now you had your own spot to rest your head at night on the Razor Crest.
On that first day, you hadn't known the Mandalorian—"Din Djarin," he'd introduced himself reluctantly one day—was still traveling with Grogu, the sweet child that had begun his journey across the galaxy, hiding from the Guild. But you'd quickly decided it was nice to have another partner in crime, to interact with whenever Din was in the middle of one of his quiet days.
As the days had turned into months, and subsequently into years, the inability to meet Din face-to-face had become less frustrating, although sometimes you wished you could sneak a glance at his hands, or his wrists, or something that might resemble the human underneath the armor.
Once in awhile, deliciously, you could tilt your head just the right way and look forward at him when he was in the cockpit, his helmet pulling away from the cloth under his armor. Between helmet and armor, a sliver of golden skin would glimmer back at you, just begging to be touched. Of course, you never gave in to your silent desires.
This was not the Mandalorian way; you knew this well. Even when you felt his head turned toward you, even when you were sure his hands were reaching for you when you needed his help climbing somewhere, you kept your distance.
Well, for as long as you could. Until he forced your hand.
It wasn't long before you were unable to keep your hands away from him; going up and down the ladder on the Crest, or climbing over the occasional boulder on the routes you walked along when forced to take a respite on an unknown planet. His gloves were always rough in your grip, but you couldn't ignore the way his hands seemed to squeeze yours, tighter than might have been necessary.
And you'd begun letting your hands linger on the beskar of his armor for moments longer than you should—his helmet, tracing the indented curves of the spot where his cheekbones rested underneath, or on his chestplate, where you swore you could feel him lean into you, as if pressing your hands closer and closer to his skin beneath the armor.
You stood beside him as he sat in the chair in the cockpit, guiding the Razor Crest through the galaxy once more, aiming for some undisclosed location he'd neglected to tell you. He usually did things like that; you'd learned not to be offended by his unbreakable instinct to keep things to himself.
It hadn't occurred to you just how long he'd been wearing that helmet until you looked toward him again and noticed the soft curl of a few brown strands of hair that crept from the edges, kissing the back of his neck. They were short strands, but they were long enough to wink up at you as they curled around each other, begging to be touched.
"Din?" you asked, hoping to distract yourself from the thought.
He didn't look at you, but he tilted his head in your direction, just a centimeter. It was enough.
"Why'd you let me stay with you?" you gripped your hands together, as if they had a mind of their own and couldn't be trusted to remain at your sides. "I was horrible at any aspect of being a bounty hunter."
You were used to the way that it always took him a few seconds to answer, coming up with an evenly-expressed response. This, of course, gave you more time to stare at the tendrils spilling from the edges of his helmet.
"You were a risk," he admitted with a shrug, the helmet (of course) not betrayed anything. His voice was calm, even as he continued softly. "I have a particular...proclivity for picking up foundlings," he said with a tilt of his head toward Grogu, who cooed at the mention of him.
You lifted an eyebrow. "I'm not a foundling, though."
If you could have seen his eyes, you were almost positive that they'd be giving you a look that said, are you sure? Instead, he only spoke in his perpetually smooth voice. "You were lost, though, mesh'la."
You still weren't sure what each word in Mando'a meant—he'd been dropping a few words here and there, as if he knew you couldn't interpret them—but you blushed all the same. Before you knew it, your hands were releasing their grip on one another and reaching up to comb through the curls at the base of his neck.
They were softer than you'd imagined; smooth and thick in your grip. "Alright," you said gently, "maybe I was. I never got to thank you, you know."
Your hands were moving on their accord now, silently twirling the curls around the tips of your fingers. You were used to his silent, immobile exterior, so you didn't think he'd be able to feel the way you pressed your hand to the back of his neck. He'd never said anything before that gave the impression that he was aware of your ministrations, so when he leaned back into your touch then, something strong and addiction bloomed in your gut.
When he spoke, you were surprised to hear how shaky his voice was. After three years of hearing nothing but steady syllables fall from his masked lips, you nearly flinched at the stutter in his voice.
"Thank me?" he said quietly. "For..." you could have sworn you felt his heartbeat flutter rapidly in his neck when he trailed off. "For what?"
You pulled your hand away, pretending not to notice the way he shuddered at the loss of touch, his shoulders slumping as if in a pained relaxation. You hid your smirk. "You're not seriously asking that, right? Without you, I'd probably be dead by now." Or worse, you reflected with a quiet pang in your chest.
Din's response was quick this time, an unusual—but not unwelcome—surprise. "And without your perfectly timed luck, I might be without a ship." His voice was thick, trembling with something that might have sounded like desire had it been someone else speaking.
You didn't even think Din had the capacity to know something as heavy as desire. Well, not that he was incapable of feeling desire, just...you'd never thought about what he might do if he did feel it. Would he shove the temptations down, destined to die in the corners of his mind and body?
Your cheeks warmed at your next thought. Perhaps he took care of it himself in the dead of night on the Razor Crest, or on those mysteriously long patrol walks that he insisted on doing alone.
"Yeah, well..." your answer was pitiful and you knew it. But you were too busy looking at the way his body was slumped in his seat, facing forward despite every limb beginning to turn toward you, as if you were a magnetic beacon.
His fingers twitched in his gloves, angling toward you just as his knees began to do the same thing. "Will you..." he trailed off, clearing his throat awkwardly. "Mesh'la," he breathed, and he leaned to the side, as if his shoulder was chasing your touch. "Put it back."
You were going to ask what he meant, but you didn't have to. Even with his helmet on, you could practically see the pleading in his body language. Here he was, a devout Mandalorian, begging you to put your hands back on him.
"Please," he said quietly, almost a question. It sounded so unlike him that you wondered briefly if he'd been killed and replaced with an imposter. But by the way that his hand trembled as he took his focus away from flying the Crest and moved it toward you...this was Din.
"You...okay?" you asked, but you obliged his request in return, replacing your hand at the base of his neck. You watched in an unfurling dizzying sense of satisfaction as he reached up his own gloved hand to cover yours, squeezing it gently. "Din," you started, but he shook his head.
"I've never disobeyed the Way of the Mandalore," he said, his voice muffled under the mask. You strained your eyes, wishing you could see beneath the beskar. "I've never wanted to. Not before..." he brought your hand around to rest on his chestplate, and you could feel the pressure of his chest leaning into your touch. "Not before I knew what it might feel like to want someone like this."
Your eyes widened, but you didn't pull your hand away. "You...what?"
His head tilted down. "For once, I don't know how to manage this." He stood up, and suddenly he was towering over you, the cloth under his armor making your fingers itch to tear it off. "How do I manage this?"
"I..." you couldn't hide your shock. "I don't know. It's...isn't it against your religion? It's not the Way."
Din shook his head. "No, it's not." He spread his hand down your wrist and extended it toward your own chest, the leather of his glove seeping into your skin. "But I've also never told anyone my name. Never heard it spoken since I was a child."
You swallowed roughly. "So?"
He huffed a chuckle. Lifting your hands to his helmet, he let your fingers find the divots of the beskar. You didn't miss the way his chest shuddered with a stuttering breath at your touch. "So," he said, "to hell with the Way. For tonight, at least. I need to know you in every way I wish I could."
Such a harrowing request, given the circumstances. But you couldn't stop your hands from tracing the lines of his masked face. "Din..."
"Please." His voice cracked over the single syllable, and it was all you needed.
To hell with the Way, your thoughts echoed his words, and you nodded softly. "Alright," you acquiesced. With one look down, you saw the tent growing in his pants, sending a spike of desire down your spine, settling in your core. "How'll you have me?" you asked.
He let out a soft noise that sounded like a whimper. "Any way that I can," he choked out, his hand returning to your wrist and enclosing it in his grip. "I'll have you any way you'll have me."
You could hardly speak, so you didn't. With a gentle nudge, you pushed him back into his seat. When he sat back, his legs fell open; there was an inviting space between them.
Standing in the spot, just inches from his face, you stared into the black mass of his helmet, hoping you'd get a glimpse of his face. Of course, you knew he would only go as far as he wanted to. If the mask was destined to remain, then...so be it.
With your eyes on his, you moved his hands to your waist, pressing them to your skin and enjoying the feeling of his leather against your body.
He shook his head. "Take them off," he said, again with that whimpering voice. "Please."
You nodded wordlessly and shed his hands of the barriers, heat pooling in your core at the sight of long, thick fingers, his skin finally exposed to you. Returning his hands to your waist, you tilted your head back at the sensation. You were never going to forget what his skin felt against yours.
The melody of shuddering breaths that fell from his lips was unreal, and you wanted to soak up every second of it. Without more than a second thought, you slid your legs over his, straddling his hips and pressing your chest to his chestplate. His hands remained on your waist, but he let them wander, curling them around to cup your ass.
The feeling of his hands on your body made you unconsciously roll your hips forward, which released a strangled moan from his lips. "Oh, god," he mumbled. "Mesh'la, please take it off."
You paused. Your hands fell to your lap, and your eyes were wider than saucers in the reflection of his helmet. "What?"
He picked up your hands in his own, the rub of skin against skin an intoxicating intimacy. "Please," he begged. "If I'm going to touch you like this, I need to see you, cyar'ika. Nothing in the way."
You were going to argue further, but you couldn't ignore the pulsing need that was clouding your thoughts, the same need that pushed your hips further down into his lap. It was impossible to miss the way his cock twitched against your clit, eliciting a soft moan from your lips.
“Are you—”
“Don’t fuckin’ ask me if I’m sure,” he begged, and he squeezed your hips under his hands. “Never been more sure, mesh’la.”
This time it was your turn to let out a shaky breath. “Okay,” you whispered, more to bolster your own confidence than his own. His resolve was clearly rather strong in this matter, and nothing would change his mind.
With a hand on either side of the helmet, you gently pulled it up and away from his face, hardly able to believe that he’d agreed to let you rid him of his every barrier. For a moment, as each inch of skin was revealed to you, you caught yourself frantically wondering what he might look like.
Would he look like anyone else? Would he look familiar to you in that way that only lovers can? Or would he be hiding a deformed brow bone or an abnormally small nose or a crude smile?
Of course, you shouldn’t have even worried. When the helmet lifted off of his head and you let it fall to the floor with a hard thud, you smiled at the face that blinked back at you in wonder. With those brown strands that were just long enough to hang down over his forehead, and the matching brown eyes that twinkled with the moonlight in his pupils, Din Djarin was exquisite.
“I knew it,” you hummed, your eyes tracing every line on his face, every strand of hair that clung charmingly to his forehead.
His response was a strangled moan, and his eyes fluttered closed of their own accord when you dragged a finger along his jaw, then the hooked line of his nose. “Knew what?”
“I knew you’d be one of the pretty ones,” you grinned, and you leaned down to press your lips to his, swallowing his groan of ecstasy.
You drank it down like the sweetest liquor, the sound pulling your own moan from your chest. His lips were chapped and dry from lack of care, but his mouth was warm and wet and his tongue was deliciously shy as he darted it towards yours. His hands stuttered as they pressed further up your chest and felt for your breasts. You weren’t sure how long he’d last; his chest was already heaving.
“Din,” you pulled back with a grin. “Din,” you repeated when his eyes remained closed. “Thought you wanted to look at me?”
“I do,” he said, his voice choking in his throat. “I do, mesh’la, I just…I think I might come in my damn suit if I look at those lips too long.”
You cooed, letting a hand search for the roots of his hair, finding a home on his scalp. You curled your fingers in the strands and watched his eyes squeeze shut, his jaw go slack, and felt his hips buck up into yours. “You’re so sensitive, baby,” you hummed, your mind running wild with thoughts of what this could mean.
“Never been touched like this,” he mumbled, voice cracking again. “Feels perfect, mesh’la.”
“I need you to look at me, Din,” you nodded. “It’ll keep feeling good, I promise. I just need you to look at me.”
When his eyes opened, you could have fallen apart right there at the sight of his glassy brown depths. His lip quivered and you almost thought he’d cry, but then he was letting his hand fall from your chest to your waistband, trailing his thumb along the skin there. “Can I?” he asked gently.
Nodding, you stood up. “Just keep breathing, pretty boy,” you said softly. “I’ll make you feel good. Show you just how good it can be.” You guided his hands to your waist and let him pull your pants to your ankles, revealing the front of your glistening slit to him.
Din was just starting to understand the drug-like effects of physical touch, so you weren’t surprised when he leaned forward, fell to his knees, and pressed his forehead to the soft skin of your stomach, breathing deeply as if he were a zealot bent to pray at the altar.
“C’mere,” you whispered, though unable to hide the growing smirk on your face. There seemed to be nothing more addicting than the sight of the Mandalorian on his knees before you. “Sit back down for me, baby,” you said, tilting his chin up to look at you. “Take those pants off, they look awfully restricting.”
He nodded quickly and obeyed, slipping his pants down to his knees as he sat back on his chair. It was downright sinful—the beskar on his chest but his helmet removed and his cock springing free, the tip red and angry and leaking. “Please,” he begged. “I—”
“I know,” you breathed, stepping closer to him. “We’re gonna make each other feel good now, yeah?”
Din nodded once more, his eyes fluttering shut. “Please, please.”
Well, how were you going to deny him then?
You straddled him once more, your clit throbbing at the sight of his cock underneath you. But rather than shock him with the feeling of your pussy milking him for all he was worth, you hovered over him, just enough that the head of his cock lay just an inch from your entrance.
“Mesh’la,” he begged, “please don’t tease. I’ll be good. I’ll make you feel good, I swear to everything I’ve ever believed in—”
A finger pressed to his lips, you shook your head. “I know,” you repeated. “Deep breaths for me, Din.”
He inhaled sharply and shoved his breath out of his chest. For a moment, his eyes cleared.
“Good,” you encouraged him, relishing in the look of his wide eyes at the praise. “Such a pretty boy, baby.” You moved his hand to your core, guiding his fingers to your clit. “Rub little circles for me, baby. Make me feel good and I’ll make you feel good.”
He obliged quickly, rubbing tentative circles to your clit in a way that had you smiling gently, loving the sacrilege you were participating in. “Is that g—oh!”
Din’s question was interrupted by your hand reaching down to grip his cock, delivering a quick stroke and making his hips stutter. He tried his best to lift his hips from the chair, clearly aiming for your entrance, but one hand on the beskar on his chest had him sitting back.
“It’s okay, baby,” you cooed, “just like that. Just touch me for a while.”
Ever the gentleman, Din kept his eyes on you and his hand on your pussy, pulling sweet sounds from your lips just as you wrecked him beneath you. Your thumb slid against his tip and he almost came; you could tell by the way his breath caught in his throat and his eyes squeezed shut, lip trapped between his teeth.
You wanted his fingers to wander toward your dripping entrance, but you knew he might not last long enough for any more foreplay. Next time, you thought smugly.
Now…now you needed him inside you.
“Gentle, baby,” you reminded him when he gripped your hip too tightly. You didn’t want to tell him you enjoyed the near-bruising strength; that would be for another time. You could already see that you were close to losing him, and you weren’t going to end this experience without riding him until the both of you saw stars. “One more deep breath, yeah?”
He was a mess of tumbling words in Mando’a that you didn’t understand, and his brow was furiously furrowed, as if it was taking all of his focus not to come on your hand. As a matter of fact, it probably was taking all of his focus. “Please, mesh’la,” he said again.
You wondered briefly if you’d begin answering that now; treating it as your name. Mesh’la.
“Deep breath, baby,” you reminded him, and when he obeyed, you sank your hips towards his. The tip of his cock slid in with no resistance; you were wetter than you’d ever been in your life. “Good boy,” you moaned as you kept your hand on his neck, softly cupping the underside of his jaw to look at you. “So fuckin’ pretty like this.”
The stretch of his cock inside you was delicious, and pleasure licked sharply at your insides, begging for a quick release. You knew he wouldn’t be able to hold himself together much longer based on the whimpers that still crumbled from his throat, broken and jagged.
“So fuckin’ pretty?” he repeated, his voice a high squeak. He gripped your hips and threw his head back. “So fuckin’ pretty for you?”
Your breath rushed out of your chest in a strong blow and you had to take a deep breath yourself to calm down. “All for me, Din, that’s it,” you continued, and you lifted your hips up. Dropping them back into his lap, you soaked up the feeling of being filled so completely by his cock. With every shred of patience left in your body, you pushed your lips back to his and tasted his moans on his tongue.
His hips began lifting into your own, the only clue you’d get to his desperation for more. Without a word, you began moving faster, more rhythmically, as you bounced gently on his cock. With the base of his cock pulsing against your clit at every drop of your hips, you were approaching that edge quicker and quicker. “Din,” you moaned, “baby, I’m gonna—”
“Please,” he said, “I want you to feel good, mesh’la. Use me, please, use me, please…”
You were sure your brain short circuited. With no more patience left in your bones, you picked up the pace and chased your own orgasm, knowing he wasn’t far behind. With every squelch of your pussy on his cock, your moans became less coherent, and you leaned your head forward against his neck.
Pulling back to press a kiss to his jaw, you felt his loins tense beneath you. Something nearly snapped inside you at the sound and sight and sensation of his pleasure so close to release; at the knowledge that it was you who had done this to him. “Good,” you mumbled against his jaw, getting closer to his ear. “Pretty boy, just for me,” you mumbled.
Din’s chest tightened and his moans became longer and more high-pitched, true whimpers if you’d ever heard one. “Mesh’la,” he begged, “Mesh’la, I—”
You dipped your head down and, while grinding your hips back and forth on his cock at a feverish pace, you darted your tongue out to his neck. Licking a stripe from the crevice of his neck to the spot just behind the soft part of his ear, you groaned in his ear as you crumbled on him, releasing the tension in your body as you came hard.
Din was ruined beneath you, with his neck bobbing and his eyes shut, his head thrown back. Mouth opened in a wide moan, his voice broken over the sound, you felt his release sink into your fluttering walls. He let out a deep cry of words that you didn’t recognize, but you blushed all the same. With the way that his eyes glossed over when he said it, you were sure it was something that reeked of sin and sweat and sacrilege.
“So good,” you mumbled again, “you’ve done so good for me, Din.” Your face tucked itself into the crook of his neck, and you inhaled the heady scent that belonged only to him. You sat motionless on his lap, but you could still feel his head pulse inside you at the overstimulation. “Did that feel good?” you asked, your hand reaching up to smooth down his hair comfortingly.
He let out a breathless laugh. “If this is sin, I’ll want more of it,” he replied, his arms snaking around your middle to tug your chest closer to him. “I’ll never know how to thank you,” he finished, sighing deeply. His eyes twinkled at you when you pulled away to look at him.
You shook your head. “No need,” you assured him. “Just catch your breath, brave Mandalorian. Then we’ll talk.”
He nodded, his eyelids growing heavier with the expense of energy now catching up with him. His cock had grown soft inside you, but he made no move to lift you from him. “I did well?” he asked. This wasn’t surprising; you’d known him to be quietly confident, but the Mandalorian was never one to pass up the opportunity for someone to reassure his talents.
You grinned and leaned forward to press your lips to his hooked nose, fighting the urge to nip at it with your teeth. Next time, you reminded yourself. “You did well,” you nodded. “Feeling okay?”
He splayed his hands on your back and inhaled near your chest, his face buried into the soft skin of your breasts. “Never better,” he reassured you, rubbing his hands along your spine. “So sweet to me, baby,” he murmured, repeating your own affection back to you.
The two of you remained like that, just wrapped together in a mess of limbs and sweat and come mingling together. When he began to wince with the overstimulation, you lifted off of his cock but remained in his lap. You pulled back and leaned your forehead against his. You watched his lips, plump and sitting perfectly, waiting to be kissed again.
“What does mesh’la mean?” you asked instead, the word strange and unfamiliar on your tongue.
He looked at you for a long time, bringing a finger up to trace the line of your mouth. “Put your lips on mine again and I’ll teach you,” he offered casually, as if his pupils weren’t still blown wide, his eyelashes still fluttering from the power of his release.
You smirked. “This is the Way, huh?”
For once in his life, Din Djarin smiled at you. “This is the Way.”
tysm for reading! so glad to be back, i'm sorry if the smut scene seemed rushed and out of pace! again: i was hungover. pls forgive. lemme know what you think!
adding tags here cause i'm going grocery shopping at 8:30pm BYEEEE
this is a good morning fic for @thetriumphantpanda and the aftercare bit at the end was specifically for @cavillscurls i know u crave it girl
the rest of the taggies: @mingiast @iluvurfather @cupofjoel @morning-star-joy @darkroastjoel @tightjeansjavi @chaotic-mystery @dinsdjrn @huffle-punk @tommymilllers @milly-louise @struig @butiknewyoudlinger @alejaa-a @worhols @thegreat-annamaria @easaud @country2212 @sleepdeprived-feelalived @pertinentpostmortem @lailaispunk
#din djarin smut#din djarin x reader#din djarin x f!reader#virgin!din djarin#din djarin x experienced!reader#the mandalorian fic#the mandalorian fanfiction#mandalorian#star wars#star wars smut#star wars fic
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Joel Miller: Stay Down
Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader (she/her; afab)
Word count: 3.2k
Summary: Joel thought he had grown accustomed to fear until he finds you covered in blood.
Excerpt: He swallowed, attempting to choose his words carefully. He had never been good with them, attributing his deficiency to a long line of likewise men before him. His brain poured for sonnets, poetry, prose that he had read in his insignificant time on this planet. Something to impress you, distract you, to take away that crestfallen look in your eye.
He couldn’t do it. He never would be. So, he used his mouth for something else.
Warnings: stitching of a wound, kissing, blood, blood loss, so much yearning, unestablished relationship, probably incorrect gun talk, Joel is scared of feelings.
A/N: This is me coping with the fact that we do not get more last of us in January. Also partially inspired by my favorite song maybe ever.
Pedro Masterlist
All my writing
Joel had found his hands becoming more and more susceptible to the cold as he got older.
They would crack and bleed, flaking dried skin within his decades-old gloves before November had even begun. This not only hurt like hell, but forced him to slow down and think about what he was doing to his body for once in his life. He had a harder time gripping the reins on a horse or fingering the trigger on a shotgun. Noticeably so. And living in a small town with a little brother foaming at the mouth to make old man jokes didn't help matters.
This is what led him to you.
He wouldn't call you a hoarder. Honestly, he would be the first to admit that you were one of the smartest people in Jackson. You had somehow become one of the most materialistically rich people in the town. You consistently managed to find the most randomly useful items on your patrols, things that people before the outbreak would never have even thought to miss.
Things like shoe insoles, ball point pens, Chapstick.
And luckily for him, lotion.
You never charged anyone for taking from what you had. Furthermore, you actively asked people if they needed anything. Even offering to scout around the area in search of specifics. Joel hadn't been around that kind of softness since...
Well, a long time.
This made him uncharacteristically nervous when he first approached your doorstep, but he knocked anyway. He had never in a million years expected to leave that house satisfied in more ways than one.
He blamed it on that stupid crinkle the skin underneath your eyes got whenever you smiled at him. He couldn't help but fall into your light.
This started a... friendship. Of sorts. He would come over when he needed you, and you would happily oblige. As time went on, the visits to yours became more and more frequent, frequent enough that the rest of the town seemed to be catching on. At least, that's what his brother had been hinting at through jabs and side comments.
"You smiled at me the other day, Joel," Tommy had said. "Actually smiled."
Joel responded with a gesture he was hoping Ellie would not pick up anytime soon.
Joel was...happy. Happy with the arrangement. He had a warm body – a fucking gorgeous warm body – to get his energy out with, and the woman inside the body seemingly had no issue with his lack of strings attached.
And yet, for some reason, this annoyed him.
There was some undetectable, bruised part of him that wanted you to…what exactly? Fight him on it? Confess your undying love for him? Pull him back into bed to cuddle?
There had to be either pheromones or crack cocaine in that honeyed floral perfume you always wore. You were beginning to drive him this insane. Unfortunately for him, the place he went when he was beginning to toe that line into insanity was always you.
Joel had checked the schedule posted in the main square, assigning every able-bodied person shifts of patrol. You had a shift earlier in the day, which usually kept you busy until noon. You would then shower, eat, and spend the rest of the afternoon doing whatever the hell you wanted.
Overtime, these mental gymnastics became muscle memory to Joel.
He huffed as he lugged his aching legs up your steps, their typical milk white now coated in an ugly muddy brown. Winter had begun, apparent by the puffs of Joel’s own breaths, and the snow in Jackson was trying desperately to keep up.
Joel balled his hands into fists as he planted both feet onto your porch, blowing into them quickly, before knocking three times. Spaced out enough, but not too much. He envisioned you smiling as you heard his signature knock, but cringed at himself internally, burying the thought instantly.
It fluttered back to the surface when he heard the pads of your footsteps somewhere in the house begin but extinguished itself when they dissipated.
He waited a few more seconds, the rational part of his brain saying that you must be in the middle of something, but the man part of his brain imagining you putting on your silky red robe he loved so much, only for him to take it off you so slowly it made his own fingers shake. He breathed in deep, the laundry detergent from his nylon coat mixed with the beginnings of December filling his nose, and cracked his neck while rocking back and forth on his heels.
His eyebrows came together when he heard another rustle, then nothing.
He knocked again.
Still, nothing,
He knew you were in there – he could hear you, clear as day, and he knew you could hear him – but for some reason, you weren’t coming to the door.
His much too weathered mind began to race, thinking of three possible explanations. One, you heard him knocking, and were ignoring him. Two, you somehow were not hearing him knock on the door. Or three, you for some reason were not able to get to the door.
Meaning, there was a possibility you weren’t alone in there, and not by choice.
“Y/N?” he asked loudly. “Y/N, are you in there?”
Nothing. A bit more rustling, maybe a slight groan, but nothing.
Joel’s fingers began to tingle, and it wasn’t from the cold. He knocked again, harder.
“Y/N, I know you’re in there,” he said loudly, “just…just tell me you’re okay.”
Silence.
He gripped the doorknob and jiggled it, hard enough for the wood to groan underneath his fingertips, but it was locked from the inside. He huffed, knocking again, his hot breaths now clouding his face. He felt an ache in his wrist.
He said your name one more time, hearing the beginnings of a voice he knew better than he should have muffled by the wood, and the door was flat in front of him before he could think twice.
He stomped his way inside, coating the ground with mud and snow, and his eyes darted around the familiar living room. His vision was tunneled, scrounging for the shape of you on the floor, draped over the couch, held at gunpoint. His heart pulsed in his ears.
You weren’t in the living room.
He stomped into the kitchen, the bathroom, the basement, nothing. All that was left was the bedroom.
There was no way in hell you were still asleep.
He practically sprinted to the room, preparing himself. He had seen what men did to women, the remnants of it anyway, and despite his state of denial, he could never in a million years handle the sight of you that way. In your own bed. In your own house. Likely one of your own friends.
He pulled open the door anyway, and was met with gold.
The room was dim except for the lamps you loved so dearly, spreading their warm, glowing, honeyed light across the room in streaks. He blinked his eyes to adjust, focusing in on your body on the bed. You were facing him, skin painted with similar golden streaks, highlighting the tears culminating under your eyes. You were sat crisscrossed, upper body totally bare, back slouched tightly, your body practically folded in on itself. Your right hand was pressed against your left shoulder blade, while your other was filled with wine-colored rags.
Blood-soaked rags.
His eyes met yours quickly, and despite their dampness, they still had that fucking crinkle.
You chuckled, your shoulders dropping up and down quickly as they always do.
“You know,” you said, voice curdled and tired, “if someone doesn’t answer the door, that’s usually them saying ‘leave me the hell alone.”
You chuckled again, this time finishing it off with a wince.
His hand slid slowly from the doorknob as he took a hesitant step towards you, his body tearing itself in half. One side begging to fold your body into him, bubbling you in a cocoon. The other, itching to tear whatever did this to you apart ligament by ligament.
Your eyes slowly drooped from humor to something like shame, like a kicked dog or a broken child, and he stepped forward again.
“Don’t,” you countered weakly. “Just…just don’t.”
You scooted away from him slightly, refusing to look at him, and applied more pressure to whatever was expelling that much blood from your shoulder. Pain was suddenly present in your face.
“You want me to leave?” he quickly countered.
You said nothing.
He walked to you, removing the hand you had pressed against your wound, and sucked in a quick breath.
“Probably the first time you’ve seen a revolver bullet in about twenty years, huh Joel?” you asked, chuckling once more.
He barely heard you.
You had gotten the bullet out, but it had sunken in deep. The skin around it was red and welting, so swollen that Joel had to guess you had already been working on it for at least an hour. He winced, imagining what kind of pain you were in, and the fact that you were dealing with it all yourself.
He swallowed grimly.
“Hand me that rag,” he said. He could tell how little strength you had left to fight him by how quickly the rag flopped into his hand.
He pressed it to the wound, and you hissed.
“Fuck Joel,” you whined, squeezing the covers of your bed so tightly your knuckles went white. He held his pressure, forcing himself to think straight.
He might as well have been feeling the pain in his own shoulder.
He finally eased his pressure, wiping away as much blood from the area as he could.
“You cleaned it pretty well,” he said softly, voice thick in his throat, so thick it was hard to speak. “But…it’s gonna need a stich or two.”
“Or seven,” you said, grabbing the first aid kit sat in the middle of the bed. You opened the bag with shaking hands, taking out the needle and thread. You attempted to begin threading the needle, but with your hands quaking so fiercely you only produced frustrated grunts and sighs. He moved to the front of the bed, the front of his body facing yours, and took the needle and thread from your hands, setting them to the side. He then held your hands in his, squeezing them slightly, before using one to tilt your chin up at him.
He sighed at the storm in your eyes.
“What happened?”
“Did you kick my fucking door down?”
“What happened?”
“I was stupid, that’s what happened.”
He sighed again. “You’ve never once been stupid.”
“Today I was.”
“How?”
“It’s how I always am.” Your voice cracked. “Thought I could pick some apples for Mrs. Lawrence down the street. She always talks about how much she loved that as a kid – a freshly picked apple. Went out too far. Felt a sudden burning in my shoulder and ended up having to take out six hunters all by myself. Six.”
A single tear dripped from your left eye, the gold from the lamps turning it to sunlight.
“I could’ve died. All for a fucking apple.”
You turned away from him again, and it took everything in him not to cup your face in his hands and turn you back to him. He had never seen you like this before. So… raw. Beaten. Trampled. Doused in self-hatred. He hated it.
And yet, he didn’t want to look away. He was slowly realizing that this was the part of you he had been desperate to see. Truth. Undercarriage. Weakness.
Human.
He swallowed, attempting to choose his words carefully. He had never been good with them, attributing his deficiency to a long line of likewise men before him. His brain poured for sonnets, poetry, prose that he had read in his insignificant time on this planet. Something to impress you, distract you, to take away that crestfallen look in your eye.
He couldn’t do it. He never would be. So, he used his mouth for something else.
Slowly, gentler than he ever had in his life, he brought his mouth to your cheekbone. You exhaled a prolonged breath, the heat of it cascading down the left side of his neck. It only prompted him to kiss you more, and more, and more. His lips traveling up into your hairline, across your forehead, down your nose, and finally onto your lips. His kiss there was tongueless, rather a soft press, and yet it meant more to him than any other one you had ever shared.
He could tell by your breathing that you agreed.
He pressed his forehead against yours, swallowing thickly. “I’m glad you didn’t. I don’t know…I don’t know what I would do if you did.”
Your stormy eyes turned into a sunrise, and Joel straightened his aching back to slowly remove his coat and boots. He placed them on the floor beside your bed, keeping his eyes on you the entire time. You watched him just the same, mouth propped open slightly.
He smirked as he set his things down. He then picked up the needle and thread while using his free hand to frame your face.
“I’ll be gentle,” he said, his thumb stroking your chin. “I promise.”
You nodded. “I know you will.”
His lips wanted to meet yours so badly it hurt, but he needed to stitch you. Quickly. For a wound as deep as the one you had, it should have been closed up hours ago.
He wouldn’t think about that now. He couldn’t.
He walked to the edge of the bed and turned you around, leaning you into him slightly to give your pretzeled back some support, and began.
You were surprisingly unreactive when he first inserted the needle, taking it as delicately as he possibly could. It wasn’t until he began to tug the skin together that your body showed signs of pain.
“You’re going too slow,” you mumbled softly after he finished the second stitch. “Please go faster.”
His hands began to shake at your request. He didn’t blame you. Speed would make it hurt worse, but be over with quicker. He squeezed the top of your shoulder in response, threading the needle quickly and stitching over the center of the wound.
You let out a high-pitched whine, gripping onto the comforter at your side, and he couldn’t help but kiss the back of your neck.
He let your breathing steady, then stitched again, this time kissing your shoulder blade.
Another stitch, a kiss across your shoulders.
Another stitch, a kiss down your spine.
Another stitch, a kiss on your lower back.
After every stitch, he planted one. Something in him couldn’t help it.
He made his final stitch and cut the thread quickly, sealing it with a kiss on the side of your face. He tasted a mix of salty tears and heat from your skin. He watched your throat bobble as he moved away, finishing off the wound with a final cleaning. Alcohol and blood filled the air, along with undertones of sweat.
He had a feeling that last aroma came mostly from him.
He threw the needle and thread away into the small garbage can you kept near your bed before turning back to face you. You rested on the balls of your palms, leaning back to look at him as he walked back towards you. There was pain visible behind your eyes, he could see it, but they were coated in something else. Something somehow rawer than before.
“You should rest now,” he said, scruff evident in his voice from lack of use. He cleared it quickly. “You took a hell of a hit.”
You didn’t move. Joel moved to the first aid kit still sitting in the middle of the bed and used the (what had to be decades old) wet wipes on his hands. He tossed those as well, but you still hadn’t moved.
“There somethin’ on my face?”
You cracked a small smile. “Thank you, Joel,” you said quietly.
He hummed. “Don’t mention it.” He then leaned forward and scooped your body into his arms. You involuntarily rested against him, eyes fluttering already, but he set you down beneath your sheets and swiftly pulled them over you.
He laughed at your fight against your own exhaustion, pushing stray hairs away from your forehead. He pulled away from you, beginning to walk out of the room. A fierce grip pulled him backwards.
“Stay,” you mumbled weakly. “Please stay.”
He inhaled deeply. The sweet cocktail of your voice mixed with those words fucking inebriating him, so much so he was surprised he was still standing up straight. He felt physically winded.
He squeezed your hand. “I’ll be right back. Stay down.”
You smiled, loosening your grip, letting your hand fall back into the bed.
Joel walked quietly out of the room but would be the last to admit how he practically sprinted to your kitchen and scoured your cabinets like a man being chased. He found your pain meds, pouring two into his hand, and filling up a small glass of water. He gave a slow, silent jog back to your room.
He felt equally as winded when he caught the view of the setting sun between your windows, glazing over you like a statue in Rome he had once seen on a traveling magazine. The streaks of leftover tears were highlighted in the light, as well as a small crease in your brow.
That is what told him you were not quite yet out cold.
He brought the meds and water to you, tucking your hair behind your ear to alert you of his presence. You opened your eyes and practically inhaled the medicine before laying back down on your side.
Joel removed his shirt in a blink and tucked himself in behind you, ensuring your stitches were not firmly pressed against him, but pressed just enough to ease soreness. You curved into him perfectly, as he did to you. He wrapped his arm around your frame, taking your hands in his and massaging them gently.
You hummed. “Promise you’ll stay?”
He knew your voice like that better than any man in the world.
He pressed a final kiss to your shoulder. “I’m stayin.’”
Tag List: (if you would like to be added please let me know!)
@untitledarea @avengersfan25 @lexloon @daphne-turner @leeeesahhh
#din djarin x reader#pedro pascal#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal x you#pedro pascal x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller x#joel tlou#joel#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller x reader#joel miller smut#joel x reader#joel the last of us#joel and ellie#joel miller x f!reader
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Caught in 4k
Din Djarin x F!Reader
Main Masterlist | Din Djarin Masterlist
Summary: You catch Din watching porn and discover his secret; his breeding kink.
Word count: 1.8k
Warnings: reader is able-bodied, canon divergent (long live the Razor Crest), established relationship, porn, heavy on the breeding kink, daddy kink kinda, dirty talk, fingering, oral sex (F receiving), vaginal sex, creampie, helmet comes off, pet names, no use of y/n
Fic notifs: @beskarandblastersfics Fic recs: @kelbellsficrecs
It’s been a long week. You and Din have barely seen each other. That seems impossible given the small confines of the Razor Crest. Your schedules have just been opposite from each other lately. And it’s driving Din insane, in more ways than one.
He misses how you feel when you sleep, your back pressed up against his chest with a protective arm slung around your waist. He misses your conversations in bed, recapping your day to each other, being the person you both come home to at night.
But he also misses having you underneath him, squirming under his cock. It’s been too long and the urge to cum is getting uncontrollable.
He doesn’t normally masturbate. Unless you’re right there with him, telling him what to do, whispering in his ear, and making him melt. But this is a special circumstance. It’s been days since he came and he feels like he’s going to burst. When he arrived back at the Crest you were already gone, running your errands. He doesn’t know when you’ll return and the ache in his balls is painful.
He sits in his bunk, looking at your data-pad at the foot of the cot. He’s watched porn videos before but it was always with you, right before the two of you are about to have sex. If you’re not here to help him out, who’s to say he can’t watch something to give him a bit of inspiration?
He searches for a video, something to satisfy a certain kink he’s been hiding from you… his breeding kink.
Maker, he can’t stop thinking about it. You have the implant so you wouldn’t actually get pregnant. But it would be fun to pretend, to talk about knocking you up as he’s balls deep inside you, pumping you full of his cum.
His cock twitches against his flight suit.
Kriff.
Yeah, he needs to cum. Now.
He clicks on the first video under the breeding kink search results and pulls his cock out. But he wants to be extra comfortable. He lets go of his cock and takes off his helmet, setting it on the floor beside the bunk. He spits in his hand and returns to jerking off, watching the holo-vid with wide eyes. It’s a man and a woman. He has her on her back, folded into a mating press, moaning in her ear about how he’s going to breed her, make her his, telling her how pretty she’ll look carrying his children.
He thinks about you carrying his children and his cock gets even harder. How everyone will know you’re truly his.
“I’m gonna fill you up, baby. You want that? You want daddy to breed you?” the man in the holo-vid says.
“Yes, daddy. Please, I want it so bad,” the woman whines as the man is pounding her.
He thinks about you, shuddering underneath him while he has his way with you. Maker, where are you? This is certainly getting the job done but it could be so much better than this.
He’s so enthralled in the experience he doesn’t hear the exit ramp lowering. He doesn’t hear your footsteps. He doesn’t hear you set your bags down.
You lean against the door frame and he still doesn’t notice you.
“Gonna stuff you full of my cum,” the man moans.
“Yes, daddy. Please. Breed me. Fill me up,” the woman whimpers.
Your eyes widen at those words.
Breed me.
You had no idea about this secret little kink of his.
“Din?” you say, ripping him from his bliss.
He startles with a jolt, almost dropping the data-pad. He looks at you with wild eyes, skin slick with sweat all while his hand is still wrapped around his cock.
“Cyar’ika, when did you get back? I’m sorry you had to see that. I-”
He’s rambling so you cut him off.
“How long?”
“How long what? How long have I been masturbating?”
“How long have you had… this kink?”
“Uhh.”
“You can tell me.”
“A while,” he says, putting his cock away and standing to meet you.
“How long?” you press.
“For a long time! I just never told you about it.”
“Why?”
“I just… I was afraid you would judge me.”
“When would I ever?”
“I don’t know…” he starts, trailing off. But then he realizes… You didn’t explicitly say no.
“Please, can we try it?” he says, falling to his knees. His are wide, pleading with you.
“I have the implant,” you chuckle, “You’re not getting any babies from me for a long time.”
You run your fingers through his curls and look down at him. It’s just dirty talk. It’s not like you’ll get pregnant. But it’s still funny that you caught him in the act, that you discovered his little secret.
“Please. It’s all talk, cyar’ika,” he begs.
“Fine. Show me what you’ve been watching.”
He blinks twice in disbelief as you start to get undressed, pulling your shirt over your head and tossing it on the floor. He stands and grabs your waist, bringing you close and planting his lips on your neck.
“Really? You mean that?” he moans into your skin.
“I’ll try anything once,” you shrug, “But let me finish getting undressed,” you say with a chuckle.
Reluctantly, he takes his hands off you, letting you get undressed while he does the same, shedding pieces of armor and putting them in a neat stack on the floor. You watch as he strips his flight suit, his cock springing free from the fabric as he kicks off his boots.
You two stand in front of each other, completely bare and admiring every little detail. It doesn’t take long for his hands to be glued to you, fingertips sinking into your skin, holding you tight as if you’re going to slip away. He directs you to the bunk, gently coaxing you to lie down. He hovers over you, large hands palm your inner thigh, You spread your legs apart and he marvels at how wet your cunt is already.
“You’re so wet for me already, cyar’ika,” he teases, running two fingers along your entrance. “Bet you want me to pump you full of my warriors.”
Bet you want me to pump you full of my warriors.
Your mind just about short circuits at that. A shiver of anticipation runs down your spine. He brings his fingers to your mouth and like a reflex you open it, knowing what he’s asking for. You suck his fingers, getting them nice and slick for him. You maintain eye contact the whole time, obscenely swirling your tongue around and putting on a show for him. His mouth falls open, watching you suck his fingers like such a good girl until he can’t help himself anymore. He needs to feel you coming around his fingers now.
He takes his fingers back to your cunt, thrusting both of them inside you slowly. Your breath hitches at the sudden girth inside you. His other hand grips your chin as he lowers his face to hover above yours, looking into your eyes deeply.
“You can take it,” he reminds you, curling his fingers against your g-spot.
He lets go of your chin and lowers himself in between your thighs. He watches the wetness seep from you, running down his fingers and onto his hand. He goes for your clit, mouth latching around the sensitive spot and sucking for dear life. This man is aching to make you cum like his life depends on it.
Your back arches up off the bunk, the tension in your core breaking loose. Your cunt clenches his fingers and he hungers for that feeling around his cock. He continues to pump his fingers in and out of you throughout your release, mouth never leaving your clit. It borders on overstimulation until he’s finally done satiating himself, getting drunk off your scent and taste.
When he looks up at you his chin is dripping. He swipes the wetness away with his thumb and pops it in his mouth, moaning at the taste. Always such a slut for you and only you.
“You taste so good, cyar’ika… so sweet,” he moans, swiping two fingers up your cunt one more time for a final taste.
He rests on the back of his heels as he strokes his cock, collecting more of your wetness to lubricate himself. He looks down at you, lips curled into a smirk as he tells you the filthiest things.
“Gonna stuff you with cum, mesh’la,” he says, hovering over you and aligning his cock with your entrance. Just before he thrusts into you he adds, “But not until you beg for it.”
You go to respond but you’re cut off with a moan, his cock entering you and splitting you apart.
“Can you do that for me? Can you be a good girl and beg for me to breed you?”
“Yes,” you breathe, voice high-pitched and filled with arousal.
He draws his hips back and slams into you, hands resting by either side of your head. The look on his face is one of pure lust, fueled by a primal instinct.
“What are you waiting for? Beg.”
“I want you to breed me,” you beg, eyes wide and pleading with him. He thrusts into you over and over again, an unforgiving pace as he makes your cunt his.
“Not good enough.”
“I need you to breed me,” you whine, voice incessant and needy.
“Tell me how bad you need it.”
“So bad,” you whine, “More than anything.” You reach your hand up to his hair and entangle your fingers in his locks, tugging on them as he rails you.
A deep and guttural moan escapes his throat like you just unlocked something inside him. His thrusts grow faster and harder. Your second orgasm is nearing, core muscles tensing up in anticipation again. Tears spring in the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill over.
“I’m gonna-” he starts, cutting himself off.
“Please. I need it. Fill me up,” you beg, just as you finally cum. The sensation of your orgasm draws his own from him. At long last, you’re filled with his spend, cock pumping in and out of you, sending it even deeper inside you.
He’s delirious at this point, moaning over and over.
“Mmm gonna pump you full of my warriors.”
“You’ll be so pretty carrying them, mesh’la.”
“And everyone will know you’re mine.”
With one final rut of his hips, he’s done, pulling out of you and lying beside you on the bunk. It’s silent between you two as you catch your breath, the small bunk only filled with the sound of labored pants.
“So… About that implant.”
You grab the pillow and playfully smack him with it, laughing as he puts his arms up in defense.
“Don’t push your luck!”
#din djarin x reader#din djarin x f!reader#din djarin x you#din djarin smut#the mandalorian x reader#the mandalorian x you#the mandalorian fanfiction#din djarin fanfiction#the mandalorian#din djarin#pedrostories#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal character fanfiction#star wars fanfiction#star wars smut
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Unexpectedly Mated {Alpha!Mando x F!Omega!Reader}
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 6.1k
Warnings: Alpha/Omega dynamics, heats, denying biological needs, religious creeds, removing your helmet, jealousy, territorial aggression, fingering, first kisses, vaginal sex, rough sex, knotting, mates, marking
Comments: Forbidden to remove your helmet by Creed, Mandalorians deny their basic biological needs as Alphas and Omegas. The helmet blocks the scant of their true mate. Until an open air vent leads Mando to discover that you are his omega.
Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers
*** When reblogging or talking about Omegaverse, please remember that ‘a/b/o’ without the slash punctuation marks (/) is considered a slur for the Aboriginal people in Australia.
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|| MasterList || The Mandalorian MasterList ||
Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.
“You must never remove your helmet.” The creed and these words drilled into you at a young age and you have never forgotten, would never be allowed to forget. The creed comes before all else. The covert comes before the individual. In a galaxy full of alphas, omegas, and betas…Mandalorians stood alone. Defying their biological status to better the covert, to keep the numbers up. You wear the helmet to not only protect your face but to keep you from recognizing your mate. The scent recognition of a mate is instant so the Mandalorian solution is to wear helmets with filters so that one can breed with anyone they prefer. Their minds are clouded with scent so the desire is the driving factor. The younglings are raised by the covert as a unit so the aim is to repopulate Mandalore. You suppress your omega urges with supplements and you’ve yet to breed. Too busy with bounty hunting alongside a certain Din Djarin. You’re drawn to him, that’s for sure, but you’ve never bred with him. He’s not interested in a family, in an ad. He wants credits. He wants to protect the foundling under his care and you’ve gone along for the ride.
“Din.” Your modulated voice calls out to him as he strides ahead of you after you reunited the frog woman with her husband. “The kid needs to eat.” You tell him, knowing you need to find the nearest cantina.
The sigh Din gives you is one of frustration and resignation. He likes the kid, he’s risked a lot to protect him, even his covert. The sins he has committed weigh heavily on his shoulders and he nods. “Come on.” He grumbles to the little one. “I know you’re hungry, we’ll get you something to eat.” Hopefully the Crest will be fixed soon. Unable to take off his helmet unless he is in his bunk is starting to frustrate him, the hermetically sealed space is starting to feel stale with the cycled air and he longs for a single breath of fresh air. He had also hoped to slip away for a moment, needing to find a medical facility to replace his implant. It had been damaged from his fight with Moff Gideon and he’s not had time to have it seen to. While he doesn’t visit a brothel or find a sexual partner often, he can feel the need to rut building up in his system. The alpha side he tries to suppress starts to bleed through his normally calm demeanor.
You sit with the kid in the cantina, snorting when Din saves him from his own lunch and you glance around at the sailors. They mention Mandalorians and you are surprised to hear of your kind here, especially since Din wants to find them so he can help the kid return to his own planet. “Before we head off, maybe we can freshen up. I need to use the fresher and I’m sure you also want some time out of beskar.”
He groans at the idea of time outside the suit. Letting his skin breath and maybe he can work in a quick tug on his cock while he’s in the ‘fresher. “We’ll have to get rooms.” He reminds you, his head tilting towards yours. “Do you want to do that?”
You nod, “that sounds like a plan. I’m sure this one needs a nap after everything.” You say, reaching out to caress the kid’s ear. He coos at you and finishes his broth with a loud slurp. “Let’s find somewhere.” You say and throw some credits down for the broth. Din nods and you’re soon following him into the inn nearby. You are eager for a shower and some time out of the heavy beskar. Despite wearing it since you were a kid, you have always been weighed down by it. Din gets two rooms and you nod at him when he carries the now sleeping child into the room.
The child’s eyes never open, making Din chuckle quietly as he closes the pod and sets it in the corner of the room. Looking around to make sure the windows are covered before he reaches up and unlatches the edge of his helmet and groans quietly when he pulls it off his head. His hair is sweaty, but immediately the scent of the outside world is much more vivid. Making him inhale deeply and growl quietly at how good it all smells. Being an alpha as a Mandalorian was tricky, his own scent blocked by the helmet, but others could smell him. Making things difficult for him at times, especially when he cannot even walk around his own ship with his helmet unsealed because you are with him. Now, he sits on the edge of the bed, with his eyes closed and breathes deep, unaware that the vent between your two rooms has not been closed.
You hum as you tilt your head under the water. An actual shower instead of the ‘fresher on the ship is a welcome surprise. You don’t realize the vent in your room is open so Din can smell you as your omega scent wafts through the room, warmed up from the shower and the water flowing onto your face blocks you from smelling Din.
It’s subtle at first. A teasing waft that caresses his nose and makes his cock twitch. The beautiful, heady scent of an omega. Making him groan quietly until the next wave hits him. His omega. The scent overwhelms him and he’s immediately hard, aching and desperate to claim the omega who is meant to be his mate. His mate. His eyes widen when he sees the vent opened, called to it as he follows the scent. It’s the vent that connects your room to his. You’re his mate.
You can feel a tugging in your stomach when you step out of the shower and you frown, wondering if you’re going to go into heat soon. You’ll need to get some more suppressants since you don’t have the time to spend days nesting while you are with Din. He doesn’t want you to be a needy omega holding him back from his quest. You dry off, shutting the door to the bathroom behind you and you lay down on the bed, unable to stop your hand from snaking down to rub your clit, a whimper escaping your lips.
Din snaps the vent closed. Hand curling into a fist as he pants against the shared wall. You’re his mate, his omega. His mind whirls as he tries to reconcile that new information with the stalwart and steady Mandalorian he has been bounty hunting with. He won’t deny that he wondered about fucking you before, it’s only natural that he would given how close you had been. His cock throbs as he imagines you in your armor, slowly stripping it off and walking around your room nude. Building a nest and begging him to join you. “Fuck.” He hisses.
You fall asleep naked on the bed after making yourself cum, relieving the ache in your stomach, enjoying being out of your beskar. You sleep until there’s a knock on the door and you groan, waking up and immediately grabbing your helmet to slide it onto your head. “It’s time to go.” Din says and you call out, “no problem. I’ll get ready and be right out.”
You redress in your beskar, your stomach still aching but you decide you’ll seek out some suppressants later. Opening the door, you find Din standing there with the kid. “Morning buddy.” You coo to the child and look up at Din who looks tense. “Everything okay?” You ask him, tilting your helmet.
You know that Din can be all business but there’s something off about him. You ignore it and follow Din down the hall to find the sailors who are granting you passage on their boat to find the Mandalorians that are apparently on the planet. Later on, you admire the water as the raft moves along, glancing at Din who is stiff, well, stiffer than normal. “Are you sure you’re okay?” You ask softly, the sailors moving around behind you.
“Let me go!” You growl in anger, swinging your arm to fling a sailor into the water. Using your strength to try and untangle yourself from the ropes when Din and the child are in danger and that’s when they appear: the Mandalorians.
The redhead who introduced herself as Bo Katan shakes her head. “I’ve heard of your sect of the religion but Maker…I didn’t know how far it went in controlling its followers. On Mandalore, we wish for alphas and omegas to find their mate, it makes for stronger bonds, stronger families. We don’t - that is not something we dictate.” You swallow harshly as her words, feeling a tugging in your stomach that makes you want to lean towards Din but you push that aside. “You can remove your helmet and you would not be dar'manda.” Bo Katan explains and you’re so tempted.
Din stands up, angry at them for tempting him, tempting you. He shakes his head. “You are not mandalorian.” He growls, reaching down and takes your arm to pull you to your feet. “We are leaving.” He tells you, turning and striding away from the group angrily.
You let Din guide you out of the cantina and you sigh, “Din. Slow down. Maybe…maybe they are telling the truth. As Mandalorians, we are denying our biological need. We are denying nature itself. Why? What- what good is it?” You ask him, the child in the pouch nestled against his hip.
“What good is it?” Din stops and spins around, crowding you slightly and even though you cannot smell it, pheromones pour off of him in heavy waves. All this talk of mates and finding out you are his has him desperate to claim you. To take what is his. “The Creed. That is what good it is. Our secrecy is our survival. We. Do. Not. Remove. Our. Helmets.”
You shake your helmet, stumbling back away from him. “I do not want to breed with whomever the armorer tells me to. I want to find my mate. I want to feel complete.” You yell, quickly flicking the lock to your helmet and you waste no time lifting it off of your head in public for the first time since you were twelve. It hits you immediately. His scent. He’s an alpha. Your alpha. “You- oh Maker. Alpha.” You address him, your stomach twisting with sudden need for him.
Din hisses, his body jerking at the tone of your voice, the submissive nature of it. Calling to him. His hands curl into fists and he moves, shielding you from any eyes that could possibly see your face. “Put your helmet on.” He demands roughly, knowing that he cannot do this right now. He cannot have this conversation with you in the middle of a spaceport.
Your lower lip trembles, feeling the rejection, and you shove your helmet back on your head, flicking the lock and his scent is replaced with fresh air through the filter. “Clearly you do not wish to have me as your omega so I am going to go back to the cantina. Perhaps another alpha can help with my heat.” You didn’t get a chance to pick up suppressants and the scent of your alpha has your stomach twisting with the sudden heat, the urge to mate and be claimed by him has you sweating already. You need to be touched and as much as you wish for it to be him, it’s obvious that he doesn’t want that. You spin on your heel before he can answer to make your way back into the cantina.
Growling, Din watches you walk off. Sighing when he knows he cannot follow you. The child is still beside him, looking up and cooing at him as if to tell him that he had fucked up. “Come on kid.” He grunts, turning and walking away from you even though his entire body is screaming to follow you. “I need to find someone to watch you.” He knows he cannot have a conversation with you around the kid, around anyone. He needs to find another room, then he will bring you back for a talk.
You want to take off your helmet and down a spotchka or five, but Din’s command to not remove your helmet is ringing in your ears. You sit at the bar when you feel a presence next to you. “What’s a Mandalorian omega doing all alone?” He asks and you snort, “I haven’t got an alpha.” You state despite your chest aching, knowing you have an alpha but he doesn’t want you. On your walk to the cantina, you realized that Din didn’t question being your alpha. Which means he must’ve taken his helmet off at some point and found out. You wonder how long he’s known. Why he had kept it from you. “That’s good news for me, sweetheart. I’ve never been with a Mandalorian before and it smells like you might be needing an alpha at any moment.” He says, leaning closer and your stomach pangs with the beginning of a heat.
“I- I ran out of suppressants.” You confess, turning towards him despite everything in you wanting to run to find Din.
The Frog Lady had agreed to watch the baby, leaving Din to go back to the little inn where you had stayed last night and get another room. He knows that he owes you a conversation, a real conversation and he cannot do that in public. Once he has the key, Din tucks it into his belt and sets off for the cantina. He knows you are angry at him, hurt. He wants to give you time to cool down for a moment, to think rationally again. To remember your creed so both of you can agree that nothing will happen until you can find the armorer again and speak with her. Striding confidently towards the seedy little bar, he is sure that it would work.
You giggle when the alpha leans in, telling you a joke about Jawas and you are distracted for a moment from talking about your heat. He offers to buy you a drink but you decline, not wanting to take your helmet off, but it’s nice to talk to someone without them just giving you a grunt as an answer. You unconsciously lean closer to the alpha, your body heated as your biological need threatens to overwhelm you.
Walking into the bar, Din unlocks his helmet, unsealing it so he can smell you. Attraction and arousal, pouring from you and he follows the scent. Finding you sitting at the bar, another alpha leaning in, obviously interested in touching you, fucking you. The need to protect you roars to life in his chest and his alpha nature rips through his self control. Moving quickly to you, barely resisting the urge to pull his blaster on the cocksure alpha who is grinning at his mate. “Get the fuck away from her.” He growls, shoving between the two of you and puffing up his chest, towering over the other man and trying to be as intimidating as possible.
You gasp at Din’s sudden appearance and you stand up from your stool. “Alpha.” You place your hand on Din’s chest plate to keep him back from the other alpha.
“Hey buddy. Me and this omega were talking.” The alpha says and you wince under your helmet, knowing that he needs to shut up before he gets a blaster in the face.
“Din, just leave him.” You huff, pissed that he is dictating what you can and can’t do.
“My omega.” Din growls, his hand inches away from his blaster and he stares hard at the man from behind his visor. “Move away.” He warns but the man scoffs and doesn’t look impressed.
“She doesn’t seem taken. She seems like she’s real interested in getting to know me. ‘Bout to go into heat, needs an alpha buried in her cunt, knotting her.”
His words make you wince as you know Din, any alpha, wouldn’t allow them to speak about their omega that way. “It’s obvious you haven’t claimed her. What’s wrong, Mando? Not got the balls to do what needs to be done. She doesn’t smell like you. She smells wet. She smells ready for a cock. Clearly you aren’t enough for her. She wants to get fucked.” The alpha smirks, pushing Din’s buttons even more.
Din’s hand shoots out, wrapping it around the other alpha’s throat and squeezing harshly. Enjoying the way his pheromones immediately turned to ones of distress and his eyes bulge while his blue skin turns purple as the airways are cut off by the pressure of Din’s hand. “My omega.” Din rasps out, voice dangerously low and threatening. “Mine. Not yours. Mine.” The urge to kill him is clouding his thoughts, to demonstrate that you are his. That he would protect you.
“Alpha. Alpha. Don’t. He’s not worth it. I’m yours. I’m yours.” You promise Din, knowing that fact deep within your bones but you’re still furious with him. You place your hands on his chest plate, your helmet tilted towards his, “please. Just take me back to the inn. Don’t do this.”
Slowly, Din relaxes his fingers and lets go. Getting immense satisfaction when the other alpha gasps for air and immediately grabs his throat. He grabs your hands and ducks his shoulder down, hauling you over his shoulder like he would a bounty. Ignoring your shrieks as he storms out of the cantina with you.
You are shocked that Din is carrying you back to the inn and, you can admit to yourself, turned on by the primal display. "Din. Put me down!" You demand but he ignores you until he's in front of the room he had gotten for you. Finally putting you down. "I can't believe you did that." You shake your helmet and he opens the door.
"Inside." He demands and you obey him immediately, stepping into the room. Din steps into the room, letting the door close and locking it behind him. “You were going to let him touch you?” He demands, pissed off that you were searching for someone, despite the fact that he had not immediately claimed you.
You feel defiant now despite being alone with your alpha. "I was. I am going into heat. If you didn’t touch me, I needed to find another alpha to satisfy my needs." You declare despite knowing that no one would give you what you need from Din.
“You’ve worked through heats before.” Din growls, remembering how he had heard your whimpering cries from your bunk as you used your toys. It had been hard to deal with, when he hadn’t known he was your alpha. Wanting to offer you his cock the entire time, but he had respected your need for privacy. “Why not this time?”
“Because - because I wanted to feel wanted. I wanted someone to touch me who wanted to touch me, to make me feel something. I know you already knew I was your omega. You weren’t shocked when I found out you were my alpha. You didn’t - you didn’t sound surprised at all. How long have you known?” You ask, crossing your arms.
He leans back from you, surprised that you are attacking him and not liking it. “I-“ he huffs, rolling his eyes under his helmet and sighs. “Yesterday.” He admits quietly. “The vents between our rooms weren't closed. I-I smelled you when I took my helmet off.”
You are placated when you find out it was only yesterday but you’re still hurt that he didn’t tell you. “I didn’t smell you yesterday. I - I was showering and I -” You frown under the helmet. “You weren’t going to tell me, were you?”
“I- we-“ Din shakes his head. “You know what Mandalorians do.” He reasons with you. “The Armorer aligns breeding partners. I-“ He bites his lip under his helmet and sighs. “I was going to ask the Armorer for you, to be paired with you when we find them again.”
You understand where he is coming from but you feel frustrated by him. "Din. We - we are mates. What we have is...it's more than the creed. It's more than just breeding. It's how it is supposed to be. It's primal and raw. We are mates. Destined for each other and you've been by my side for so long yet neither of us knew what the other was meant to be. I want - I want you. I need you. Fuck the creed. Fuck the Armorer. You're my alpha and I - I want you. No matter what the consequences are." You say, "but if you don't want that - want me - I will leave. I'll go back to the covert and you can finish your quest alone."
He wants to argue against your comments, his heart twisting when he hears you say you would walk away. “Always wanted you.” He confesses quietly, breathing deeply and soaking in your scent. “Since the second week together. Watching you wipe the floor with that Twi.” He snorts, smirking slightly under his helmet. “Wanted you all the time.”
You chuckle, remembering that fight when you were both so much younger. You step towards him, "I have always wanted you. Always imagined you when I was in my nest." You confess softly, "I think I knew, unconsciously, that I was yours."
“I thought about you a lot.” Din confesses, taking a deep breath as he remembers what Bo Katan had said about mates being able to reveal their faces to each other. He takes a deep breath and reaches up to slowly start sliding his helmet off.
Your eyes widen under your helmet as Din exposes his face to you and you get your first look at his handsome face. "Maker. You are -" You can see him tense with anxiety and you reach up with your gloved hand to cup his cheek. "Mesh'la." You tell him, unable to tear your eyes away from those beautiful brown eyes. "Do you - you can remove my helmet...if you want."
He’s proud that you find him appealing. His one glimpse of you too fleeting for his own liking, finding you mesh’la as well. “I want to see you, omega.” He hums as he slowly reaches for your helmet. “My omega. My mate.”
You’re nervous for him to fully look at you without your helmets on, and your heart pounds beneath your chest plate. You bite your lip when your eyes meet his without the pixelated visor screen and his brown eyes soften. “Din. Alpha.” You murmur, watching him as he stares at you.
“Mesh’la.” He murmurs softly, staring into your eyes and feeling his cock harden beneath his flight suit as he smells and sees you clearly for the first time. He groans your name. “Omega.”
You ache for him, your heat curling in your stomach, and you wonder what he wants, if he still wants to wait until you return to the covert. “I don’t know what you want from me right now. Do you want us to put our helmets back on and continue on like this never happened until we return to the Armorer?” You ask, a little breathless.
“I cannot pretend I haven’t seen your face, smelled you.” Din groans, his eyes nearly closing in pain when a wave of arousal drifts over him. “I- you’re mine.” He growls again. “You are going into heat, I will take care of you.”
You whimper at his words, your body starting to get overheated with need. “Alpha.” You gasp, starting to work on removing your beskar, needing to feel the air on your hot skin. “I need you.” You pant, efficiently stripping down until you’re in your bra band and panties, boots kicked aside and you slide your hand into your panties, needing to rub your clit for some relief.
“Omega.” He growls, body tense and he steps forward, his need to touch you and take care of you nearly overwhelming his rational sense. He is about to touch you, still completely dressed in his armor except for his helmet. When he sees his gloves, he stops. “Get on the bed.” He orders, starting to strip down himself. Needing to press his skin to yours. “I will make sure you don’t need your fingers. You can have mine.”
You obey his order, shifting to lay down on the bed after reluctantly pulling your fingers out of your panties, and you watch him strip off. “Alpha. You are - you’re mesh’la.” You say, sitting up on your elbows to watch him, seeing the scars from blasters that grazed the vulnerable spots in his beskar and you want to kiss every one of them.
His own groan is one of pride and need, seeing you squirming on the bed, waiting for him. His omega, needy and wet. His hand wraps around his cock and he slowly starts to jerk himself. “You are mesh’la, cyar’ika.” He hums, eyes dark and full of lust. The waves of need and want roll off of you and mix with his own desire to fill the room. “My sweet little, omega. Wanting my cock, needing my knot.”
His voice, unmodulated, makes you shiver, and you watch him with wide eyes. “Yours, alpha.” You promise, reaching behind you to unclip your bra band, tossing it onto the floor to expose your tits to his gaze as he pumps his cock. You are aching for him. “Please. Alpha. I need your touch.”
He’s heard it before. The needy begging and calling to his alpha, but never from his mate. Growling, he scrambles onto the bed, one hand grabbing your breast while the other rips your panties off effortlessly.
You cry out in satisfaction as he quickly pushes two thick digits inside of you. “Yesss.” You hiss, feeling the ache assuage slightly with his digits curling deep inside of you. “Fuck, Din. Alpha. Yes.” You whine, tilting your head towards his.
It will be the first time he’s kissed anyone and it’s fitting that it’s his mate. His lips come crashing down against yours roughly as he curls his fingers inside you. Unskilled, he relies on what he had imagined doing, watching holo vids and jerking off when he was alone in his bunk. His tongue pushing into your mouth when you moan and he makes a feral sound of pleasure of his own.
You moan into his mouth, tangling your tongue with his and it’s unskilled but passionate. Your hands tangle in his hair, tugging slightly and you feel his cock twitch against your thigh. You’ve both had sex before, neither of you have kissed and it’s clumsy but you soon get the hang of it.
He feels like he doesn’t want to ever stop kissing you. Pumping his fingers deep inside your quivering cunt, he groans and rocks his hips against your belly. Loving how eagerly you respond to me.
You pant into his mouth, getting closer to orgasm with the way his fingers pump into you. "Alpha. I'm gonna- you're gonna make me - fuck!" You cry into his mouth as you clamp down on his digits, the ache in your belly satiated for a moment.
The first orgasm from his omega nearly makes him cum untouched. Din moans your name as he works you through the way your walls clench and your juices soak his hand. Pleasured pheromones pour off of you and he ducks his head down to press his tongue to your scent gland.
Feeling his tongue on your scent gland has you whining his name and your nails dig into his back, wanting him to bite you but he won’t until he’s ready. “I need you inside of me. Please, alpha.” You beg, gently pushing him off of you so you can shift onto your hands and knees for him.
Din growls, loving the submissive display, looking at your dripping cunt as you move to your hands and knees. Showing him how badly you need him. “My omega is eager.” He groans, slapping your ass and squeezing your hips as he throbs. He knows this first time will be rough. You know it too. Taking his cock on his hand, he shuffles forward and notches it at your entrance. Hissing when he snaps his hips forward ruthlessly and buries himself deep in your cunt.
Your breath is immediately pushed from your lungs and you gasp as he stretches you out. You fall forward onto your elbows and squeeze your eyes shut as he doesn’t hesitate to start moving inside of you. It’s rough and your body feels like it’s on fire. “Yes! Oh fuck, yes! Alpha. I- shit.” You curse, cunt fluttering around his cock.
You’re perfect around him. Gloriously tight and taking every harsh thrust with a choked moan as he starts to hammer into you. Need and the instinct to give you every piece of himself has him gripping your hips like you might get away from him and rocking deep to push up against your womb.
You grip the sheets beneath you, your cheek pressed against them as he pushes into you over and over again. “Fuck. Oh fuck Din.” You pant, thighs starting to shake as he pushes you closer and closer to orgasm with every harsh rock of his hips.
Suddenly, Din stops. Circling his hips as he lifts your and grinds into you. He was going to cum and he wants to make sure that you are satisfied before he gives into any of his own needs. “Fuck, omega, you are so perfect.” He grunts out, panting as he feels you squeeze him. “Are you going to be a good girl and take my knot? Let me breed you one day?”
You whine, deep from your throat. “Yesss. I’ll let you- have as many as you want, alpha. I want to be good for you. Want you to be happy.” You pant, thighs shaking still as he grinds deep and his hand spreads wide until his thumb is pressing against your clit.
“Good girl.” He growls out, twitching inside you. He’s imagined breeding you before, many times, even before knowing you were his omega. Hoping that working with you would cause the armorer to place you together to breed. It was why he let you on his ship. “Fuck, I- you feel so good ‘mega. So fucking tight around my cock.”
Your nails dig into the sheets and you are desperate for him to make you cum. The fire in your belly is burning and sweat beads on your forehead. “Alpha. Please.” You whine, grinding yourself back onto him. “I need - need to cum. It burns.” You almost sob with need.
“It’s okay,” he coos, rubbing your clit as he starts rocking into you again. “Your alpha is going to take care of you. Make sure your little cunt is happy by the time you leave this bed.”
You grind back onto him, his hips still not moving as he rubs your clit, and you practically sob with relief when you cum. Clamping down on his cock, you moan his name, his designation, and soak him. “Yessss.” You hiss, thighs violating shaking as you ride your high.
“Fuck.” He groans, his hands tightening on you as he feels you cum around him. “It’s so good, cyar’ika. My omega.”
You slump into the sheets, the burning dissipating for a moment so you can catch your breath and Din’s fingers dig into your hips. “Alpha. Maker, I need - I want you to knot me. Please. Fuck me hard.” You beg breathlessly.
“Yes, yes, my ‘mega can take it.” He growls proudly. “Take my cock and beg for more.” As he starts to thrust harder, it feels like he’s going to beat the bed through the wall, knocking the headboard against the panel with a loud clang every time he pushes deep.
“I can take it. I want more. Always want more. Please baby. Fuck me. Fuck me harder, Alpha.” You demand, your hands coming out to stop yourself from being squashed against the headboard.
He wants to bite you, to mark you as his even though no one would ever see your marks except him. His secret claim on you under your armor. His hisses out your name and manages to increase his frantic pace. “Fuck, fuck, Dank ferik.”
You whine his name, “Alpha. Oh Maker. You - it’s - oh shit. Shit. Shit.” You wail as you cum again, clamping down on his cock and gushing around him, feeling his knot starting to catch and you know he’s close. “Cum. Cum for me.” You beg breathlessly, reaching back to touch his hand on your hip.
Din collapses on top of you, Pushing you down to the bed, hips never stopping as he drives into you again and again. Fucking you into the bed as if that was his singular focus in life. “Gonna, gonna cum.” He grunts out, warning you. “K-knot you.”
“Do it. Fuck, I need it. Need it, Alpha.” You beg and he pushes deep just as his knot catches, his seed painting your walls with spurt after spurt. You whine in pleasure, feeling satisfied and you tilt your neck. “Make me yours, Din.”
The audible pop of his knot slipping into you releases a feral growl from deep in his chest. Unable to stop himself, his face turns towards your neck and his teeth sink into your scent gland. Marking you as his irrevocably.
You cum again from the pleasure of being tamed and from him knotting you. You sigh into the sheets when Din licks the mark he left on your skin. “I love you.” You confess, “even before I found out you’re my alpha. I’ve always loved you.” You confess with your eyes closed.
Din sighs softly and even though he could not pull away from you because of his knot, he wraps his arms around you to keep you close. “I had hoped the armorer would pair us together.” He confesses quietly. “That's why I let you join my crew.”
He shifts onto his side and you curl back into his chest, “whatever happens…it’s you and me and the kid. Even if we have to leave the covert. I would like to keep you, to keep you safe.” You promise him and he leans in to nuzzle your neck.
“Kar’ta.” He murmurs, feeling like he is complete for the first time since his nature was revealed. His other half is in his arms and he wants nothing more than to keep you there. “Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome.” He whispers softly, wondering if you will repeat the wedding vows back to him. “Mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde.”
You smile and squeeze his forearm. “Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome. Mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde.” You repeat back, turning your head to look at him, “riduur.” You whisper, kissing his jaw, “my riduur.”
“Riduur.” His spouse. You are married to him now, his - both by your nature and by your religion. “I will keep you and the child safe.” He vows, his hand sliding down to your stomach. “And any who follow.”
You kiss his lips softly, smiling against him as you place your hand over his on your stomach. “We will face whatever we need to face together. My riduur. My alpha. And when we are ready, I’ll happily have your children. Maybe we can settle on Navarro. Get a little cottage and live a peaceful life together.” You vocalize the dream you’ve had for years.
“That would be good.” He knows that it might never happen, but he wishes for it. “First we must finish our quest.” He hopes to find the armorer again and have you declared a clan of three. It will take some time, but you have time. Both of you have implants to prevent a child and his knotted cock twitches inside you as he thinks about filling you with his baby.
“Finish the quest.” You agree, “then we have the rest of our lives together. I love you, Din Djarin. My alpha.” You murmur, kissing his jaw again. “Whatever happens, we will face it together as mates. As partners.” You promise, unsure of the road ahead but you will be together, connected as one, and you will ensure the child’s safety. This is the way.
#pedro pascal#the mandalorian#the mandalorian x reader#the mandalorian x you#the mandalorian x f!reader#alpha!mando x omega!reader#alpha mando#the mandalorian smut#the mandalorian imagine#the mandalorian fanfiction#mando x reader#mando x you#mando x f!reader#mando smut#mando imagine#mando fanfiction#din djarin#din djarin x you#din djarin x f!reader#din djarin x reader#din djarin smut#din djarin imagine#din djarin fanfiction#a/b/o#a/b/o verse#a/b/o dynamics#alpha/omega
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— beneath the mask
din djarin x f!reader
rated t - 1.3k
tags: medieval!au, light angst, anxiety, arranged marriage, soulmate au, reader has a mother & father
prompt: "I wanted it to be you, I wanted it to be you so badly” from the writing challenge hosted by the amazing and lovely @moonlight-prose 💖
when a mysterious stranger wins your hand at the tournament, you can't help but wonder about his intentions
With each step down the aisle, your legs threaten to give out.
A clicking of your teeth as you tremble, before you're gritting your jaw, biting your anxiety back. You have a reputation to uphold, even if you're only the daughter of a lord from a lesser house.
You're still a lady.
And this marriage would ensure a home for you. Protection. More than, if this man is what he says he is.
But a part of you desperately wishes that it was someone else at the end of the aisle.
You'd searched for a long time. For the glimpses that flash in your dreams at night. Knowing that he was out there - the one you had begun to think of as yours.
Your soulmate.
Never managing to meet the same eyes that reflect back at you in the darkness, just before you wake. Not once in the hundreds, thousands of people you’ve looked at, throughout your years.
And when none were found, you slowly gave up. Knowing the world was too large and you were too small, too poor, to seek them out.
Eventually agreeing to the match that your mother and father arranged.
If you could not have him, then you did not want anyone.
And now - the figure that waits for you stands tall.
Encased in gleaming armor, showing none of the nerves that wrack you. Making you wonder if you should have protested. Taken the path of the unwed, even if there was hardship in your future.
The stranger had won your favor, in the tournament. That is how the story will be told, passed on by your father.
Looking back, you remember very little from it. Knowing deep down that the winner would be the one to have your hand, whether you liked it or not. So much of it had turned to haze, as you had sat frozen there.
All but too nervous to watch, as weapons clashed, shields splintering.
Men you had known and grown up with falling beneath the sword of the mysterious man, clad in silver armor.
A Mandalorian, it was rumored.
Something from stories, you didn't know they still existed. An ancient clan of knights and warriors, honoring weapons and myths over sworn deities. Never revealing their faces to outsiders, and sometimes even to their own.
He had never killed any of them, and there was some comfort in that.
But that didn't mean he did not wound.
That he wasn't vicious, ferocious on the battlefield. Driven by an unseen force. Unrelenting, even when blood was drawn - splattering a bright crimson against his armor.
Showing just how he came to earn his station. The leader of his tribe, from the whispers you heard. Traveling far - slipping into the last few open brackets in the tournament, just as the first morning was starting.
Ripping through them all, in the days that followed.
You were given as the prize, in the end.
Even before the day ends, you would belong to him - ferried off to a new life tomorrow.
And this is what also slows your feet.
Wondering why such a man would come for you.
At the end of the aisle, you halt. The clergymany is speaking, but it's all white noise. Your own eyes wide and face solemn as you stare at your betrothed - your features reflected back at you in the tinted glass of his visor.
Acutely aware that you haven't seen his face. Not knowing what your husband was to look like.
Was he younger than you? Or older... older than your father?
Was his face kind, or was it as sharp as his movements? Was it all snarling teeth, beneath?
Were his eyes blue, or green, or just maybe... brown? Like his?
You don't know. You think not. Leaving you to wonder how you will bear it - to spend each day staring into their eyes while dreaming of anothers.
It's only when a voice raises that you're snapped from your thoughts. Realizing that the ceremony is waiting for you.
Managing, with a stammer, to repeat the words. To pledge yourself - your life and love - to this stranger.
The words repeated after, a low voice layering with metal. The shaking of your hands is still visible when they reach out to meet his, the tips of yours resting against wide, steady palms.
Covered in gloves but solid, like the rest of him.
Only the peek of tanned skin visible when he peels the glove from his hand. A small comfort coming in the warmth of his hand, as you slip the ring on his finger, settling it just above a scarred knuckle.
The careful brush of his fingers - a calming stroke against your skin, when he slips a matching one on yours.
Gentle, after everything.
Not him.
But perhaps, not a monster.
The celebrations swirl past you. There's music you don't remember. A meal that sits heavy in your stomach, from the meager amounts you managed to swallow.
A smile plastered on - assuring your excitement to family and friends - all while you worry about the hours to come.
Will he be as gentle as he was during the ceremony?
Or will it be more like the battlefield?
These thoughts linger, as the hours pass. Until the sun dips below the horizon, until the stars blanket the sky.
And then, you're alone.
Waiting in the finest room prepared for him in the guest wing. The pretty, ivory gown stripped from you, replaced with something thin and fine and silver - hand-sewn and intended to please him.
Pacing, until you hear the heavy steps approaching - as he returns from a meeting with your father, your dowry and your life handed over.
Leaving you frozen in place, as the door opens. Where he lingers, filling the space.
A different man than before, you think.
There had not been a slope to his shoulders, the way he moves as if afraid to frighten you.
His voice is different too - soft now, coaxing.
"I wish our meeting had been under more pleasant circumstances." Your husband tells you, as the door slowly shuts behind him.
Trapping you, now. The iron latch heavy, as it locks into place.
"But I could not bear to stand by." He continues, that hard edge creeping into his voice again, "You must understand."
"I don't." You manage - your brow pinched, shifting the smallest step backwards as he moves forward.
He goes still, at your retreat.
"Do you not, ner kar’ta?" His head tilts, "Do you not know why I have come?"
The shake of your head is small. Not understanding the name he calls you, his intentions.
He hesitates then, for a second. Before his hands are reaching - grasping the edge of his helmet. Slipping it from his head, as his head dips.
His hair is dark, beneath. Messy and curling, greying at the temples, down to the scruff that lines his jaw beneath plush lips and the curve of his nose.
And his eyes. That pretty shade of brown, the dark fan of his eyelashes.
You know them. Though you've never seen them, yourself.
For a moment, you can't breathe. Frozen for an entirely new reason - starting back at the eyes that you've seen so often.
"It's you," You manage. The words are no more than a soft gasp.
He lets you touch him, then. Fingertips tracing his jaw, those eyes slipping shut when your fingers brush the nape of his neck. Somehow knowing how the curls would feel against your fingers, already knowing each detail of his face.
Hidden deep down, revealed bit by bit in your sleep.
Only now, do you see all of him.
And only now, do you lean in. Your head tipping towards him, just as his forehead presses against yours. And it's now that you understand the warmth of his touch - the way it seems to soak into your skin. A lost piece of you, now becoming complete.
You hadn’t been able to find him - so he had found you, instead.
Unable to help the smile, as the dark pit in your stomach blooms into spring.
I wanted it to be you, you think - as your heart finally starts to beat again. I wanted it to be you so badly.
There's a hitch in his breath, with your touch. Fingers that stretch out and then curl, until you're taking them yourself, slipping yours between them.
"Now do you know?" Your husband murmurs, in the voice that you know as well as his eyes.
And you do - the answer coming easily, as you nod, "Because you're mine."
"Yes," He smiles.
"Yours."
i cant stop writing soft!soulmate din 💖 thank you for reading!!
ner kar’ta - my heart
#so sorry I am late my love#I have been thinking about this so much - such an great prompt and event!! 💖#din djarin x reader#din djarin x you#din djarin x f!reader#writing challenge#din djarin imagine#din djarin
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Bad Attitude
Summary: While on patrol duty, you chase a suspect starship but end up crashing on a freezing planet. Its pilot, a Mandalorian, rescues you, but he doesn't like your attitude towards him and makes sure you understand who is in charge.
Pairing: Din Djarin x f!reader
Word count: 6.1k
Warnings: smut, 18+ mdni, teasing, dom!din, brat!reader, brat tamer!din, Din is really an asshole here lol, improper use of the darksaber, lots of dirty talk, oral (m receiving), breath play, choking, fingering, unprotected sex, exhibitionism, degradation kink, praise kink, creampie
A/N: Loosely based on The Passenger episode and super canon divergent. I just had fun having nasty thoughts! Reblogs and comments are always welcome!! Hope you enjoy it!
Divider: @saradika-graphics
Masterlist - Read on Ao3
You… You really did have to follow that ship on this forsaken planet, didn't you?
You couldn't just listen to your partner Carson for once when he warned you to let it go.
Chasing that Razor Crest despite the bad weather on Maldo Kreis was not the smartest idea. Not smart at all, in fact.
You were only supposed to ask the pilot why his ship was in the proximity of that prison, Bothan-5, when that officer was killed, but he ran away as soon as he heard that name. You immediately started recklessly chasing that old piece of junk in the hostile atmosphere of this awful, unwelcoming planet, and next thing you know your Starfighter crashed, compromising the integrity of the hatch, you’re cut off from your partner and you’ll likely freeze to death before he can come rescue you. Could it get any worse?
It turns out it can.
Just when you switch the radio off, resigned to accept the unavoidable fate, your eyes seem to catch something dark in the snowstorm. At first you assume it’s just your mind playing tricks on you, but when you take a better look, you see it - there’s a dark figure approaching your ship. It must be him - the Razor Crest pilot. As he gets closer, you notice he’s wearing armour, a Mandalorian armour, and you’ve heard the stories about those deadly warriors. You probably made him angry with your insistent pursuit and now he might be killing you so as not to leave witnesses.
You are so fucked. This is the worst day of your life, and also the last.
He lifts the damaged hatch of your ship and looks at you, exposing you to the freezing air of the blizzard. You stare back at him - his broad figure completely towers over yours, but you try not to look intimidated by him.
"Razor Crest, is that you?" you say in a secure tone, wanting to appear tough.
"Yeah." the modulated voice answers as you feel his dark visor lingering on your figure.
"Came here to finish the job?" you try to sneakily grab your blaster in a desperate attempt to defend your life, determined not to die without fighting, or at least, not without trying.
"Not if you don't try anything stupid like that. Put it down." says in an authoritative tone, his right hand instinctively goes on the holster of his blaster. You quickly realise this is not the moment for heroism if you want to survive.
"Don't give me orders. I'm a New Republic officer." you reply firmly.
He scoffs and shakes his head in disdain.
"Dear officer, take a good look around. This frozen tomb doesn't look like New Republic territory to me." he goads you "Now quit it and let's go to my ship."
"Who says I want to come with you?"
"Come on, I’m freezing my ass off, for fuck’s sake." he loses no time in ripping your seatbelt and life support system off your body before grabbing you and carrying you over on his shoulder.
"Put me down! You're so rude!" you protest and try to kick him, but he blocks your legs in the tight grasp of his free arm, immobilising you.
"So far I've been more kind than you deserve. If you keep acting like that, I'll show you how rude I can be." his grip is firm and strong as he gives a warning squeeze to your thigh.
You do not want to admit it, but you feel a thrill of excitement at that - he doesn’t care about the fact that you're a law enforcer, he’s treating you like the scum he’s used to. He probably wants to trade your life for his freedom with Carson later - you’re his hostage now.
When you reach his ship, he finally puts you down. You take off your helmet and look at the Mandalorian that so unceremoniously saved you from certain death earlier.
You realise how much taller than you he is, his armour making him even broader than what he already is. Your eyes can't help lingering on his body in wonder at how strong he must be, how the shiny beskar perfectly completes his thick masculine figure, only adding to his already imposing stance, perfectly concealing his body, making him massive and statuesque. His suit is tight around the arms, you can see the outline of his thick, strong biceps. If only he wasn’t a criminal, if only you weren’t a New Republic officer, if only he wasn’t a complete cunt…
"You done?" a low, baritonal voice interrupts your dirty thoughts.
"Excuse me?" you raise a brow.
"I asked if you're done checking me out."
“What?! I wasn’t-” you lie and you both know it. You do not feel so cold anymore, your cheeks feel hot all of a sudden.
“Yeah. Sure.” the asshole teases as he rests against the wall of his ship, looking at you with crossed arms.
“You hurt?” he then asks.
“No, I’m fine.”
"Good. Let's go up to the cockpit, then. It's warmer up there."
He climbs up the ladder and when the door closes behind him, you take a deep breath, trying to collect yourself, and follow him.
When you get in the small room, you find him sitting in the pilot chair facing the windshield with crossed arms and legs spread wide. You settle on his side, standing with crossed arms and gaze fixed on his body. He’s as still and silent as a statue, unreadable under that helmet - is he really relaxed as he wants you to think, or is he carefully studying you?
"Don't look at me that way." says without moving a muscle.
"How?"
"Same way you've been looking at me since we got on the ship."
"What are you implying?"
"Don't act like you don't know." he turns towards you and stands up, making you imperceptibly startle. He looks imposing and menacing, his helmet slightly tilted observing you.
"You don't trust me one bit, do you?" he scoffs and shakes his head.
"You assaulted that prison and killed that poor man. He was a New Republic officer, just like me. Why should I trust you?”
“Because I didn’t do it.”
“Why should I believe you?”
“What will you do when you find out I was right all along?” the way he doesn’t lose his cool is fascinating, to a degree.
"You’re not. If you were innocent, you wouldn’t have run away and we wouldn't be here now."
He tilts his helmet to the side once again as he looks at you. His gaze and his confidence make you feel hot and uncomfortable at the same time - you wouldn’t want to give out the undeniable way his stoic charm is affecting you, but you hate the way he's been treating you.
"Yeah, we wouldn't be here." he lets out in an allusive tone as he walks one single step forward while you take one back, ending up against the wall. He's so damn tall and broad and… and you're getting so wet.
You look into his dark visor, feeling his gaze lingering on your body. You can feel the tension, the atmosphere in the cockpit becoming unbearable. It's getting hard to breathe, heat radiating from both of your bodies as you never stop looking at each other. While his sight is unreadable, yours is unmistakably libidinous, your heart pounding in your chest and your pussy throbbing with need, but you're both too proud to surrender first.
"I guess not. You coward." you let out in a far too flirtatious way as you look at him with shameless lust.
"What did you just call me?!" he rasps, sounding so provocative.
"Coward. That's what you are. Running away from me when I was chasing you and taking me hostage when I was so vulnerable.”
“Shut up.”
“So big and tough in your shiny armour, but you run away as soon as you see a New Republic patrol. I should have just shot you when I had the chance. At least I wouldn’t be sharing this ship with a coward.”
“I said shut up.”
“What now, Mandalorian? What do you plan to do now that you've kidnapped me? Are you gonna prove me wrong?" you’re wondering if you got too far when he gets dangerously close to you, his menacing figure towering over yours as he grips a handful of your hair, forcing your gaze into his dark visor.
"Do I have to stick my cock in your mouth to make you shut up?"
A flame of lust instantly traverses your body. You feel your blood boiling, making you feel hot and flustered, reason and common sense leaving you at the mercy of a primal, carnal instinct.
"I bet you don't have the balls to do it." you goad him with a smirk on your face.
Oh, you shouldn't have said that, yet you did, and what's worse is that you don't regret it.
You look at him with shameless desire clouding your eyes, internally cursing at the helmet that can't and won't let you see his reaction to your provocation, waiting for his next move.
You keep your lustful gaze locked on his visor as his hand swiftly unfastens his belt and the zip of his pants. His grip on your hair tightens even more as he pushes you on your knees, immediately sticking his hard, thick cock in your mouth and fuck, the sound he makes. It's worth crashing on a desolated planet and being scolded afterwards. It's guttural and desperate, astonished at how good your poisonous mouth feels when you take him in and your tongue gently swirls around his tip, instead of spitting mean words at him. You keep eye contact as you let the shaft slide in your mouth and coat it generously in your saliva, his head tilted back as he lets out breathy sighs of pleasure.
"You. You need to learn how to fucking behave. Shut up when I tell you to. You have to stop taunting me. Fuck. Is this what you wanted?"
He takes your head away from his cock to let you answer.
“You’re not as much of a coward as I thought you were.” you tease.
“You are still talking?!” exclaims as he pushes your head towards his cock once again, staying still as he uses your mouth for his pleasure, violently forcing all of his length down your throat. When he rips you away from it, you gasp for breath.
"You look so good like this. On your knees, choking on my cock, finally shutting the fuck up like a good girl." he growls, pleased.
Just as you want more of it, your mouth going towards it once again, his grip on your hair turns to steel and stops you there. You look up to him from your kneeled position and see him shaking his head.
“Why? Are you close already?” you taunt him as he tucks his cock back in his pants.
"Oh, it will take you way more than that to make me come, officer." says as he makes you stand up.
“Bet you want me to prove you wrong so badly. Bet you want to come in my m-” you stop mid sentence as he starts to unzip your flight suit while he pushes you towards the control panel of his ship, making you sit on it and trapping you there with his beskar body, your legs instinctively spread open for him to fit between them.
“Yeah? Go on. What were you saying?” he goads you as his hand slips inside of the thin pants you're wearing under the suit, teasing your clit from outside your underwear.
“I-I was s-saying that - that-” you gasp when his hand finds its way into your panties and reaches your slit.
"Ooh, what do we have here?" exclaims in taunting wonder. His beskar helmet is only a few centimetres distant from your face "Acting all cocky and arrogant before, but damn, feel how wet you are. Bet no one ever made you this wet, officer. Stars, you're dripping for me. All of this just from sucking my cock?" says in a husky voice as two of his thick, gloved fingers slide inside of you.
You grit your teeth in a desperate attempt to hide the way this is making you feel, not wanting to give him satisfaction, but your body is slowly surrendering to him and betraying you, your cunt involuntarily clamping around his fingers, revealing how his words are, in fact, effective on you.
"Oh, I bet you feel so good and you sound so sweet when you moan for me. Feel how hot and tight you are." he keeps teasing you.
Resisting him is getting near impossible. By now he knows how badly you want it.
"Listen to what we’re gonna do now. You're gonna come on my fingers like a good girl and then I'll fuck you until your partner comes to rescue you."
You can't help it anymore and let out a moan at how sensual his voice sounds as he says those things to you, at the thought of getting fucked by him, all while his fingers keep sliding inside and outside of you, making your cunt spasm around them.
"Oh, I knew it. Damn, such a sweet girl." he rasps as he takes his fingers out.
"What the fuck?!" you snap at him when he does, making him chuckle at your reaction.
"Hey, calm down officer." he teases your lips with his gloved fingers soaked in your arousal.
You instinctively suck the leather and taste yourself on his fingers, licking them sensually as you look at him in the visor. He hums in pleasure seeing that and goes on playing with your mouth, entranced by the way your tongue swirls around them, until he takes them out and presses his middle finger on your bottom lip.
"Bite." he simply orders and you obey, taking the hem of his glove between your teeth to let his hand slip out of the glove. It's huge compared to yours, callous and veiny and masculine. You hum as it starts trailing down your body and feel the warm trail it leaves on the delicate skin of your neck as he caresses it, your own hands holding tight to the commands of the ship, propping you up to offer yourself to his touch. You can feel his eyes looking at your body from behind the dark visor as his hand slips in your flight suit once again, groping your breast from outside your shirt, his thumb playing with one of your hardened nipples, your back arched and chest puffed out to make it look fuller. You moan loudly when he slides his fingers in your panties and back inside of you.
"Stars - so fucking wet. I bet your cunt is so beautiful. Spread your legs for me. You're making me so fucking hard." he keeps up the pace and also starts to rub your clit with his thumb, making the pleasure you’re feeling unable to hide and you surrender to him, panting heavily as your eyes cross and roll in delight.
"Really? Eyes rolling, officer?" he taunts you.
"F-fuck y-you-" you rasp with half closed eyes, your sentence gets interrupted as he hooks his fingers, touching something devastating inside of you, making him scoff when he sees the way you squeeze your eyes shut and arch your back, your mouth wide open to let out obscene moans.
"What? Do you want me to stop?" he provokes you.
"Don't you fucking dare." you manage to let out in a barely audible sigh.
He immediately grabs your neck, not liking the way you undermine his authority.
"Careful now, officer." he growls.
You moan back in response at how much you like this - being put back into place, the Mandlaorian reminding you who is in control. You hold tight to his sides, digging your nails in his flight suit as he just pushes you further against the control panel with his body.
You’re a panting mess and you feel so close, so damn close to your orgasm. You beg he won’t stop as you wrap your legs around him. He feels by the irregular, ragged way you're breathing and the way your muscles go rigid around him that you're close.
"What? Coming already?” he chuckles “I will let you just because I want to fuck you so badly. Now come, my dear officer. Come for me."
You pant straight into his helmet when you hear him calling you like that, fogging it where his mouth would be. His hand pushes you over the edge and you moan loudly as he makes you come around his fingers, your hands holding tight to his neck, bringing him down towards you. Your back arches, chest rubbing against his armour and you roll your head back until it hits the transparisteel of the windshield behind you. Your nails scratch him hard and your legs’ grip becomes even tighter, his upper body now trapped in your grasp.
He grabs your chin with his other hand and forces you to look at him in the visor.
"Yes - yes, yes. Like this. Good girl." he growls between his teeth, looking at you as you struggle to keep your gaze on him, your eyes wanting to roll up in pleasure.
He lets you ride your high, never stopping those astounding moves of his hand, making you feel so satisfied, but so guilty and humiliated at the same time.
As the orgasm gradually fades out, your grip on his body loosens.
He takes out his hand right in front of your eyes and, Maker, it's soaking wet, glistening in your arousal. You’re both embarrassed and aroused when you see how wet and yielding you got for him as soon as he started touching you.
"Damn, officer. How am I going to-"
You don't even let him finish, you've taken his hand in yours and start sucking his fingers. He lets out a satisfied hum when you do that. You clean them thoroughly, sensually massaging his digits with your tongue, humming as you hear him cursing between his teeth in a foreign language.
Once he’s satisfied, he takes them out of your avid mouth.
"Now strip for me, officer. I bet you look so hot under that uniform."
"Forget it." you tease him.
"Too bad you didn't obey me when I asked so nicely."
In an instant his hands start ripping the flight suit off your body as you're kicking out of your boots at the same time. It's rushed, brutal and wild, the both of you completely taken over by lust. His hands linger on your sides, giving you goosebumps and making you sigh when he lifts the thermal shirt off your body and you hold on tight to the panel when he hooks his fingers in the hem of your pants and pulls everything down and away from your body, leaving you completely naked in front of him.
“You look… Good without your uniform on, officer.” he is pleased looking at your naked body.
“Wonder if I could say the same about you, Mandalorian.”
“You’ll have to use your imagination."
“Are you even a real Mandalorian? Maybe you stole this armour, or maybe you bought it off some Jawas.” you mock him.
"Come here and I’ll show you." he simply says as he sits back on his chair, legs spread wide and a visible bulge in his pants.
Just as you get close to him, he takes out one of his weapons, a strange sword without a blade, and begins to trace your nipple with the hilt. You start to breathe heavily and you can feel your nipple getting harder by the second, your eyes carefully following his movements as he descends ever so slowly, teasing you, trailing your stomach and then your lower belly, stopping right in front of your cunt, driving you crazy, your legs spreading for him, begging for some friction. He softly brushes your lips, carefully avoiding your clit to tease you further, until he finally touches it. The sudden contact of the hilt with your sensitive clit makes you shudder and let out a whimper.
"Don't. Move." he orders as he continues to touch you with that weapon, rubbing it against your clit, producing obscene, wet sounds at the contact. You try to stay as still as you can as he plays with that dangerous weapon so close to your most delicate spot. You beg he'd go faster, you wish you could ride it and come all over it, as pathetic as it sounds, but no, he doesn't want that. He wants to take his time to tease you, getting you nice and wet as he plays with you like you're his toy.
He stands up, towering over you.
"Stick your tongue out."
You immediately do and he starts to trace your mouth with the hilt.
"This is the Darksaber. Whoever wields it can rule all of Mandalore, and you're licking it after I've used it to give you pleasure. Feel how wet you’ve made it. How does that make you feel?"
“Like you should sit down on that chair and take out that cock. Touch yourself while I lick your Darksaber clean, Mandalorian.”
He grunts as you push him back on his chair. He immediately unzips his pants to take his throbbing cock out as you keep licking his weapon clean, pleased at the sight of his erection in his hand.
"Touch yourself for me, Mando" you order him as you trace your tongue on the hilt.
"Enough of that." he grabs you by the hair and pushes you on your knees, forcing you to suck his cock. In a swift movement he grabs the Darksaber with his two hands, using it as leverage to keep your head down, forcing his entire cock into your throat, making you startle at the sudden lack of air.
"You don't get to give me orders." he growls before freeing you from his grasp to let you breathe. You gasp for air and look at him, panting.
Maker, he's so dangerous. He could kill you in one second if he wanted to, and you've never, never been wetter than this, playing this dangerous, twisted game with a deadly warrior.
He gives you a few seconds to breathe and then he's back at it, using his weapon to make you choke on his cock.
"Do you understand? I can do whatever I want to you." he releases you once again. There are tears in the corner of your eyes but that doesn't stop him from doing that one more time.
"You're so fucking pretty, but you also need someone to tame you. You've found the right man. Is that what you were looking for, officer? Someone to tame that bad temper?" he says and releases you one more time. You gasp for air as one tear sheds down your cheek.
"Come here. I'll fuck that bad attitude out of you." he orders as he puts the Darksaber away.
This. This is what you've always been craving, what you always wanted.
You slowly rise from the cold floor, your hands on his thighs as you can't stop looking at each other with longing desire. You straddle him, shaking in anticipation as you sink on his body guided by his hands on your hips, letting his cock slowly slide inside of you. The both of you moan as his cock splits you open for him, making him feel how hot and welcoming you are. You both let out a long, satisfied sigh, his voice is dark and sensual and you spasm around his throbbing cock, heavily aroused to finally have him inside of you.
“Mando, let me see if you're only good with words now."
“Din. I want to hear you screaming my name when I’ll make you come on my cock, officer.”
“You’re pretty confident in your abilities, Mandalorian.”
“Your mouth might say otherwise, but your body agrees with me.” he's so arrogant and full of himself, his confidence is making you wet.
“It does” you concede “you feel good, Din.” you purr in his neck, and he grunts when he hears how sweet your voice can be as you whisper his name while you have his cock buried inside of you. You start riding him slowly, looking at him in the visor as you feel every ridge and vein of his cock, enjoying every single moment of it, letting him almost slip out, only to let him back inside of you. He lets out sighs of satisfaction that drive you insane and only want to make you increase your rhythm but no, not yet, you want to make him pay for the way he's been treating you.
“If I had known my cock would have been enough to tame your bad temper, I’d have fucked you earlier.”
“What about yours, Din? What should I do about you being an asshole to me?” you say as you pull him out of you, making him grunt.
“Fuck. Put it back in.”
“Not so fast. I want you to behave. Beg for it.”
“You know I could just take you anytime I want, right?”
“I do. But where would the fun be?”
He hums in pleasure as you take his drenched cock in your hand and start to slowly stroke it right in front of your cunt, moaning in his neck just to get him even more aroused.
“Fuck. You’re good at this.” he whimpers.
You start to slide it between your folds, the both of you moaning in arousal.
“Dank Farrik, d-do you want me to die?” he growls, subjugated by your teasing.
“I want you to behave.” you whisper in a heady groan as you keep rolling your hips and rubbing your pussy on his cock.
“F-fuck. I want to be inside of you so badly.”
“Say it.”
He sighs and pauses, taking a good look at the tip of his cock teasing your entrance.
“Please.”
“Please what?” you ask, biting your lip in pleasure.
“Please put my cock back inside of you, officer.” there's a hint of annoyance in his voice when he surrenders and sees your satisfied smirk.
“Good.” you whisper gasping against his helmet as you slowly slide his cock deep back inside of you.
That’s the moment when he digs his fingers in your hips and starts jackhammering you, making you scream as he said he would, your hands clawing on his shoulders.
“Who do you think you are? Do you think you can taunt me? I’m a Mandalorian. A bounty hunter. Bet you’ve never been fucked so good, officer. I’m gonna give you this cock so hard, you’ll never forget about me. You’ll be touching yourself thinking about me for the rest of your life. Thinking about the Mandalorian Din Djarin who fucked your brains out on Maldo Kreis.”
The way he's fucking hard and rough into you as he says those things in an angry, husky voice is pleasurably devastating and addicting, having you moan frantically as your body is held still by his strong hands.
"Oh, fuck, Din, don't stop. Don't stop!" you let out in a desperate cry.
"Do you want to come on my cock, officer? Let me hear it. I want to hear you beg for it."
"Please, please Din, make me come on your cock." you drawl, subjugated by lust.
"Mmm - you sound so hot when you beg for me. Keep going and I won't stop."
"Please! I've never been fucked like this, Din." your heart is racing, your breathing is getting laboured and feel the orgasm approaching “I'm so close, Din, so fucking close. Please, don’t stop."
"Come, officer. Keep riding my cock and come on it. I want to hear you scream my name."
"Oh, Din!" you scream his name as the overwhelming force of the orgasm washes over you, a white blaze of bliss making you lose control, uncontrollably spasming and sensually moaning as he doesn't stop giving it to you, groaning in pleasure when he feels how tight and wet you get around him when you come on his dick.
"That's it. That's my good girl." he grunts as he lets you ride your orgasm.
His rhythm slows down as you come back from your high, his hands still firmly on your hips, guiding you, making you slowly grind your pussy against his cock, the cockpit full of your pants.
"Ready for round two, officer?"
He doesn’t even wait for your response, your mind still fogged by the astonishing orgasm he just gave you.
He gets up from the chair and in a second he turns you around, your body slammed against the control panel and the windshield, your wrists held up high by his hand. Your legs are shaking and you can't really seem to stand on your feet properly.
You couldn't possibly be ready for him slamming his dick inside of you all at once, so hard that air leaves your lungs in an exhale. You'd curse at him, but you can't articulate words as he is fucking you so violently, his strong hand on your hip keeping you still. If you thought he was fucking you hard earlier, it's nothing compared to now - feeling all the power of his body giving it to you wild and raw is pleasurably devastating. You couldn't possibly have imagined that what he gave you earlier was merely foreplay for him, just a little tease before making sure you knew who is really in charge and how hard he can fuck you. He was just letting you have a small taste of what would happen after, wanting you to get ready for him, nice and wet and stretched open for his thick cock to split you in half. He grabs a fistful of your hair and you feel his helmet close to your ear.
"What? You're out of breath already? I'm just getting started, officer." he slides it out almost completely and slams it back in so hard you roll your eyes in pleasure.
"Look at you. Loving this dick so much you're rolling your eyes. Gonna fuck you so hard, you'll learn how to fucking behave."
You can't do anything besides taking his cock and letting out choked moans.
"Still regret being stuck here with me? Tell me. Do you still think I'm a coward?" he growls in between thrusts.
You can barely drawl a moan in response and he chuckles.
"Yeah, I don't think so. You can't even speak." he mocks you as he pounds into you harder and harder, devastating you, reducing you to a pathetic, moaning mess.
"Who knows if the snow storm has stopped and your partner is looking for you. What if he sees you getting fucked like this?"
You know it's wrong, but the thought turns you on so much that you clench around him, and he feels it.
"Oh, you'd like it? Officer, what do we have here? A little whore?" you hear his dark chuckle as he grips your throat with his hand, bringing you closer to him - the hot, naked skin of your back against his cold beskar armour as he never stops railing you.
Getting called like that in other circumstances, by any other person in the galaxy, would have caused you to shoot them immediately, but now, oh, did that turn you on.
"You like being called that way, don't you? Whore." he whispers softly in your ear, and it drives you insane despite how much you're trying to hide it. He feels your body getting rigid, the vibrations of your throat choking a moan, the way you bite your lip trying not to let one sound out, and you can bet he's loving every second of it.
His other hand starts to rub your clit and that's when you fucking lose it - your mouth opens wide and lets out a loud groan of pleasure.
"Tell me you're my whore and I'll give you the best orgasm of your life."
You hesitate - his request is so degrading, but you want it at the same time. He can sense your indecisiveness and stops drawing circles on your clit and starts going around it, carefully avoiding it.
"N-no. Don't stop. It's unfair!" you whimper.
"Say it."
You try to relieve the ache between your legs by bringing a hand there, but he is quick to stop you and block your wrist behind your back, immobilising you as if you were one of his bounties, getting you even more aroused, so much, in fact, that you let out another groan.
"Don't make me handcuff you." he growls sensually and you immediately picture him fighting criminals every day, used to manhandling thugs and being a badass and you get even more aroused at the thought, and decide to give him whatever he wants.
You mumble those words, barely audible, ashamed but at the same time yielding, desperately and pathetically wanting him to give you what you so achingly crave, in a way that only he can provide. A need that you never even realised existed before he brought you into the highest dimension of pleasure.
"What? I didn't hear you."
"I am your whore." you whisper, annihilated.
"Good girl. Say it again. Louder this time."
"I am your whore, Din! Please, please make me come like this!" you surrender to him completely, defeated by your very body refusing to let this slip away.
"That's my girl. You asked so nicely, I'm gonna give it to you." you hear the satisfaction in his voice as he immediately starts to rub your clit again, driving you close to the edge in no time, your cunt getting tighter in anticipation.
“Shit, I want to come inside of you. I'm so fucking close, officer. You’re gonna patrol the outer rim, flying your Starfighter while my cum drips down your beautiful cunt. You’re gonna feel that and you will think of me the entire time.” he rasps in your ear as you feel his body pushing you further into the transparisteel and then over the edge, making you come screaming his name once again rolling your eyes over your lids, desperately begging him to come inside of you.
His groans get louder and louder as he comes. You feel his is cock pulsing and twitching, thrusting into you, wanting to go as deep as it can go, filling you with his hot release as you clamp erratically around him.
Both of your bodies are spent as you come back from your high, the sound of your laboured breathing fills the cockpit.
"Hey" he pants "keep it inside now. I don't want to see a single drop going to waste. Are we clear?"
You nod and he slips out of you slowly as you obey his order, keeping his release inside of you as you get dressed, feeling it drip between your legs as he walks you back to your ship.
Carson is already there - he has fixed the minor damages your X-wing had sustained when you crashed in the snow, confident in the fact that you found shelter somewhere and that you’re safe and will be back soon.
What he did not expect is for you to show up with the Mandalorian by your side, though.
"Can I have a few words with you?" he asks with a raised brow.
You nod and walk a few steps away from Din, going behind your ship to have some privacy.
"He saved my life." you regretfully admit before he even has a chance to speak, expecting a scolding.
"Listen. I run the tabs on the Razor Crest. It seems like your new friend has an arrest warrant on him for the abduction of a prisoner." he pauses briefly and lets out a sigh "But he has also captured three wanted culprits and tried to save the Lieutenant's life."
"I'd say we let him go this time. I really don't want to file a report about what happened. I hate doing that."
"Is that so?" he asks sarcastically.
"These are trying times, come on."
Carson raises his brow once again, looking at you and then at the armoured menace standing a few steps away from him.
“Fine.” he shrugs, not wanting to dig deeper with regards to your change of mind towards the Mandalorian, then gets back to his ship.
You jump in your X-wing, but before closing the hatch and taking off, you address Din one more time.
"We're even now, Din Djarin. See you next time, and don't get caught."
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gif credits to @/pedrohub
No because this is literally Din Djarin after removing the helmet for the first time in front of you. At first, it felt bittersweet, you knew he shouldn't be doing that, it felt wrong looking at his face. Even before he took off his helmet, all those times you found yourself imagining what his face would look like felt wrong and disrespectful. He was betraying the Creed, the people who gave everything to him. But he wanted you to look at him. Din wanted to make eye contact with you, to look straight into your eyes and let you know how he felt about you.
"Please." Din told you when he realized that you were avoiding looking at his face. What if he wasn't sure and regretted it immediately afterward? But his voice sounded sure of what he was saying.
His nose was aquiline, his lips were a little pink, a smirk on them as he nervously awaited a reaction from you. His hair was a bit curly and messy, and his features were rough. A mustache decorated his upper lip and a patchy beard on his jaw helped to accentuate the toughness of his face. But thanks to his chocolate brown eyes he looked much softer. Even if you had played at imagining what he looked like under the helmet for a million years, you would never have been able to imagine such a beautiful man.
Din would take your hand with his and guide it to his cheek, his eyes not leaving yours for a second. It was the first time your hands were in skin-to-skin contact with each other. It was something more intimate without his thick gloves in between. He made you cup his cheek, you could feel as if sparks were flying from the contact between your fingers, but that tingling sensation disappeared when your hand finally caressed his cheek. He closed his eyes and cupped your hand with his while he enjoyed your soft touch.
When he opened his eyes, your hand moved to pinch his chin with your thumb and index finger. You raised his chin and connected your lips with his. He took a deep breath as you did it and then his body relaxed for the first time since you two met. Not only he dared to show you his face, but he also showed you some vulnerability hiding behind the strong Mandalorian.
#pedro pascal#pedro pascal fluff#pedro pascal smug#pedro pascal angst#pedro pascal imagine#pedro pascal x reader#pedro pascal x f!reader#pedro pascal x you#pedro pascal x female reader#pedro pascal x y/n#din djarin#din djarin fluff#din djarin angst#din djarin smut#din djarin imagine#din djarin x female reader#din djarin x reader#the mandalorian#mandalorian fluff#mandalorian angst#mandalorian smut#mandalorian imagine#the mandalorian fluff#the mandalorian angst#the mandalorian smut#the mandalorian imagine
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💋 prompt: in which you have to keep quiet/try not to get caught with gardener Din.....pretty pls 🙏
Ohhhhh, Flora. I'm fanning myself. Whatever you wish.
Gardener!Din x f!reader. Takes place well into their secret relationship. SMUT. Leaving it at that.
It's the middle of the day. You never do that in the middle of the day. It was supposed to be a quiet afternoon reading in the back garden, a bit of time away from the family before dinner.
He wasn't supposed to be there.
"Din, oh heavens above. Like that. Just like that, please." He's thrusting into you so gently, biting down on your earlobe. His hand cradles the back of your head to keep it from hitting the tree as he pushes inside of you repeatedly. The other is gripping your hip, helping to keep your skirts up enough for him to gain access.
"So soft. So soft. Will never get enough of this," he pants against you, his hips angling in a way that makes you cry out.
"Oh, god, Din! So big...so big inside me," you wail with a loud moan, gripping the back of his shirt with both hands. He immediately brings his hand up to cover your mouth but doesn't stop thrusting in and out of you.
"Sweetheart, you have to be quiet. They'll hear us. Please, I...please," he begs, removing his hand and covering your mouth with his lips instead. He swallows every moan you let out, including the one where you practically scream into his mouth as you climax. He's right behind you, coming with a growl as he fucks every bit of his spend into you. He rests his head against yours as you both catch your breath, and he gives your rosy, kiss-bruised lips a feather-light smooch before pulling out of you and tucking himself back in his pants. You adjust your skirts down.
Din reaches over and pulls something from your hair. "Bark," he explains with a little smirk. He pulls his jacket back on, one arm at a time, and sighs.
You can feel it. He doesn't want to go. You don't want him to leave either, but someone will be along soon to look for you.
You tug on his jacket. "When will I see you again?"
"Soon," he promises, before disappearing around the tree.
Life goes on as normal, and you might have thought you dreamed it during an afternoon nap in the grass if it wasn't for his cum dripping out of you the rest of the day.
#listen I don't know#lol#I love this prompt#thank you!!#gardener!din#din x f!reader#the language of flowers drabble#sleepover saturday
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Pairing: Din Djarin x female sex worker!reader
Rating: E, 18+
Word Count: 3.1k
Content Warnings: touch-starved Din; reader is blindfolded; smut
Summary: Mando makes regular visits to the healing baths.
Note: A big thank you to @frannyzooey for always enabling my depravity and finding the dope ass images for my header ❤︎
He always waits for you inside the door.
“It’s the least I can do,” he says, when you’re surprised by the unexpected touch the first time. A light hand cups your elbow, guiding you to the middle of the room, until you can feel the smooth tiles that mark the edge of the sunken pool with your bare toes.
The marble is slick with condensation, heated by the same geothermal source that warms the spring water. The air is steamy and humid, braided with the rich scents of cardamom and argan oil, of rose from the petals you know are strewn across the surface of the bath. Candles flicker languidly in the shadowy corners of the room, but you can’t detect any of their light.
When you lower yourself to the floor—carefully, blindly—he checks the tightness of the black silk wrapped around your eyes with gentle fingers. He reassures himself it’s secure, that you can’t see a thing through the fabric in the dark, hazy room. A reassurance he needs every time.
You come to expect it. To expect him.
He’s consistent. He’s hesitant.
It takes dozens of visits before he lets you join him in the bath. You always offer; he always refuses—politely, always so politely: a no, thank you, eventually paired with a fleeting touch. A warm hand placed over yours. Two fingers stroked down the red silk of your dress. If you’re lucky, a squeeze to the thick of your thigh or a graze of your cheek. His denial is so soft, so warm—so regretful—that you ask every time just to hear him want it.
When he inevitably says no, you sit behind him on a velvet cushion on the edge of the pool instead, swathed in the inky blackness of your blindfold, your feet dangling in the warm water, and work scented oils into his skin and tension out of his shoulders, his neck, his arms, his back, his chest. Your existence is reduced to tactile information, your world narrowed to the sensations in your hands—the textures at the tips of your fingers. The taut muscles of his shoulders, the raised scars that litter his arms and chest, the hair dusted over his pectorals, the callouses on his palms. All slick with water, slippery with massage oil.
The helmet stays on for the first handful of visits. You know by the modulated sound of his voice, by the brush of beskar against your wrist when you work a knuckle into the base of his stiff neck. It disappears somewhere around the tenth visit. When he meets you at the door, your name sounds markedly different. You don’t mention it, don’t draw attention to it, but you do enjoy the unfiltered, raw quality of his voice from then on.
The noises he makes when you touch him are always better than you remember. Their tone and cadence mark a gradual progression from high strung and uneasy to mellow and sedate as the tension coiled in his muscles dissipates under your hands. The harsh exhales devolve into low groans, quiet grunts. Sounds of pleasure waited too long to be had, of physical release so desperately needed. Every once in a while, when you work out a particularly stubborn knot, he murmurs a hushed, rumbling oh, fuck.
Once, when you earn a delicious moan paired with a strained, needy fuck, just like that, he bites off the last word so harshly that you know it was involuntary.
It turns you on more than the touch of any client ever has.
Even with the blindfold, you can feel the burn of his eyes on your skin. Its weight is familiar from the start, when you meet him at the entrance to the baths, the echoing stone entry hall with its gilded fixtures and branches of guttering candles. A balled fist rested on the counter, he nods at you in all his armored glory, a cordial gesture that seems to gain gravity and intimacy each time he offers it. The black visor follows your walk down the long hallway to your rooms, dips to your hips when he thinks you’re not looking. Heavy, substantial. Pressure that could be measured, harsh enough to leave an imprint in its wake.
It stays on you until you shut the door between you, leaving you in the antechamber to tie on your blindfold and him in the main room to undress.
When you knock and enter, you can still track his gaze despite the layers of black silk—the feeling of it like a searing brand. Settled on your face when you smile up at him. Dragged over the curves of your breasts when you shamelessly tip forward to trail fingers through the water and they just barely begin to spill over the low cut of your dress. Trained on the movement of your tongue when you part your lips and lick a slow, gratuitous line over the bottom one. Riveted to the dark space between your legs when you spread your knees unnecessarily wide and the fabric of your thin, short dress rides up your thighs.
You tell yourself not to hope for more.
Then one day he shows up, and you can tell something is off. His usual steady, controlled energy has been replaced with a pent-up buzz. He’s worked up. You can hear it in his clipped words, feel it in the extra touches. The hand on your lower back guides you to the pool almost hurriedly.
His shoulders are even tighter than usual when you get your hands on them, his back a series of stony knots. He groans when you work at the tension in his neck, your thumbs digging into the tautness at the base of his skull. And when you offer yourself this time, feeling optimistic that you’ll get your most reluctant no yet, a strong hand guides you slowly and wordlessly down the smooth stone steps to join him in the water.
Reflexively, you pull your dress up and over your head, tossing it behind you before the hem can catch in the water. You lose his touch in the process, but a path of goosebumps down your body echoes the course of his gaze as it pulls along your curves. You can feel his attention, his captivation at your nakedness in the fervent tension that snaps taut between you.
His invitation is so unexpected, though, that once you’re standing in the hot, waist-deep water, you’re stunned motionless. Disoriented. You don’t know where he is for a moment; you feel his hot gaze everywhere, all at once. You never actually thought you’d get this far with him, and now it feels daunting—the darkness of blindfold, the ever-changing line of his limits and preferences. You feel untethered.
Until the water shifts and he touches you.
“Beautiful,” he says, damp fingers following the curve of your cheek so lightly you can only just feel them.
You take his hand in both of yours and kiss his palm, soft lips brushing over rough skin. He catches you under your chin, and one fingertip traces your lips, his other hand settling on your waist, flexing.
You don’t want to push him too fast, and you also want to take full advantage of this opportunity while you finally have it.
You part your lips, and his fingers still.
You let your tongue peek out to circle the pad of one finger, inviting. To your delight, he responds by carefully pushing two fingers into your mouth. When you close your lips around them and suck, he lets out a broken, pained sound, pressing down on your tongue lightly before he eases them back out and drags a wet line down your chin to settle his hand around your throat.
You smile up at him, unseeing, as you trail fingers down his chest, the soft give of his stomach, dipping below the water as you reach the ridge of his hipbone. Moving slowly, always slowly, so he can stop you if he wants to.
Sure enough, his hand finds yours, trapping it against his skin. “You don’t have to—”
“I want to," you interrupt. "I want to touch you.”
It’s an understatement. There isn’t enough time to share all the myriad ways you’ve fantasized about touching him.
“I’ve thought about this since the first time I saw you walk in here in your armor,” you say, letting your voice pitch low. “What you’d feel like under all that metal.”
His hand disappears, and yours slips further down the v of his hips to wrap around the base of his cock. Hard, thick, big like you knew it would be.
“I think about it every time I work my way down your chest. How easy it would be to slip my hands lower...to see if you enjoy having my hands on your body as much as I do.”
He breathes out slowly, but his whole body is rigid as you drag your other hand over his shoulder, down his chest, a granite statue under your touch even as you start to work him over in long, luxurious strokes.
“I’ve been dying to know, Mando.”
His cock twitches in your hand, his skin hot and slick as it pulls over his hard length. He isn’t relaxing into your touch like he usually does, and this white-knuckled, shallow-breath, penitent version of pleasure is not at all what you’d intended for him, what he deserves.
You tip your face up toward his. “I need you to relax for me. Can you do that?”
A rough exhalation. Noncommittal, a little wry.
You step closer, gingerly moving into his space. He lets you. The water shifts around you as you move into him, close enough that your breasts brush his warm body and you can place a soft kiss on his chest. His ribs expand in a rapid, deep inhale, a rough hitching breath, and his hand comes up to cup the back of your neck.
You press him backward with a palm to his sternum, and he resists reflexively, his feet planted firmly. A man not so easily moved. Who is used to doing the telling, not being told.
“Sit for me?”
He relents with a hum, going pliant for you as you back him up to sit on the submerged marble bench. He helps you climb up, strong hands guiding your movements, settling you onto your knees in a straddle over his lap.
You dip your head to find the crook of his neck and lavish open-mouthed kisses on his throat, below his ear, automatically respecting the limits of where his helmet would be, as you move your hand between your bodies. You’ve never touched above his neck and won’t change that now, even though you’re dying to trace the contours of his face, to fit your lips to his.
Perched over him, you can feel his body gradually relax under your attention, his posture softening, his breath dropping into a more natural cadence. His hands find your hips, your thighs, slide back to grip your ass, as you begin to increase the pace of your stroke.
“Have you, Mando? Have you thought about this?”
You feel him nod once against the side of your head. Jerky, frantic.
“Good,” you purr into his skin, letting your teeth drag over his collarbone.
He groans, his hips lifting off the bench to push himself into your grip harder. The heat that always simmers in your core when you’re around him grows and spreads. It’s overwhelming—so much of his bare skin on your bare skin, after so long with so little. Almost feverish as you move together in the hot water.
Your hand pauses mid-stroke; his hands tighten in protest, sliding you a tiny bit closer on his tense thighs. “Do you think about me?”
His ragged breathing stalls. He nods again. “All the time.”
You hum, pleased, and resume the tight pull of your fist. Your own arousal is approaching a blistering point, so hot and bright, and he’s barely touching you—one hand on your ass, the other dragged up your body to palm your breast, his strong thighs pressed to the inside of yours. He rolls your nipple between two fingers, and you gasp.
“Feel so good,” he rasps, the heavy weight of his hands reverent as they catalog the slopes and rises of your body. “Just like I imagined.”
You can’t help but think about how easily you could sit on his cock right now. All it would take is a slight shift and tilt of your hips and you could catch the blunt head at your entrance. He’d stretch you so deliciously—that girth and length—but your wetness would let you work yourself down onto his lap until he was filling you completely. You’d fuck an orgasm out of him, riding him until he found his release in the tight clutch of your body, milking his cock until he shuddered from the oversensitivity.
One day. Maybe.
He’s close—you can tell by the strain in his voice, by his ragged breath, by the way his hands tighten on your ass. By the way he wraps one large hand around yours on his cock, tightening your grip.
“Just like that.”
You’d give anything to see his face when you feel the urgent flex of his hips as he fucks into your joined hands, the jerk and shudder of his large frame as it curves over you, his forehead dropping to rest heavily on your shoulder as he moans brokenly through the pleasure. It’s the most intimate part of all of this—so human, so trusting. So tempting to reach up and touch his face, to put detail to what you’ve imagined so many times.
You regret that your hand is submerged in water, that you can’t feel his hot release slide over the dips and swells of your knuckles. That you won't be able to lick it off your fingers—to taste it, for your own pleasure and for his. To listen to the sounds he’d make as he watched you eat his come.
Instead, when it’s over, when he’s finished, the weight of his forehead lifts from your shoulder and his touch abandons your body. You resist the urge to search it out, to ask for it back.
You imagine how he looks unwound underneath you, his head tipped back against the edge of the pool, muscles slack. His body finally truly relaxed.
Your part is done.
He’s never spent this long here, and you imagine he’s hyperaware of that. Always on a timeline. Some small part of you thought maybe—hoped—this time would be different, that maybe he’d linger, that maybe he’d want to touch you. You slide backward off his lap to take your leave reluctantly, but when you reach blindly for the edge of the pool, there’s the sound of quick movement through the water and he closes a hand around your wrist.
Relief courses through your veins.
He doesn’t say anything, just guides you. You can’t tell what his aim is until he arranges your body over his just so—just the way he wants you. He has you straddle his lap backwards this time, your back flush to his chest, your knees opened wide by the spread of his legs between yours.
You think about what he does for work, the command and skill it requires. Those capable hands and sure grip have wrestled so many bounties into submission—into handcuffs, into rope bindings, into his carbonite chamber—and here they are exerting their power and ability for the sake of your pleasure. Blunt instrument, suddenly fine.
His breath is hot by your ear, his heavy hand settling meaningfully on your inner thigh. “Can I—?”
“Yes. Fuck, please—”
You guide his hand between your legs, desperate, and his mouth finds the back of your neck. His mouth. Stubble scrapes across your skin, soft lips molding to the contour of your shoulder. The heat that’s been building in your body, that started as a low smolder in your core, has been growing to a rolling boil the whole time you were touching him. And his mouth on your body? Like striking a match to gasoline.
The reality of the situation, the surprise of this touch, ratchets your arousal to a precipitous height. It’s the sheer brazenness of it—the unflinching way he’s taking such a huge step. In the name of your pleasure, of his desire to taste you.
The offering of such intimacy, a secret shared.
A warm tongue blazes a lazy trail from the notch of your vertebra to your nape as two fingers slip into the slit of your sex, beginning a slow massage of your clit. Your mind goes blank.
It’s almost embarrassing how easily he makes you come, how little time it takes with his hand between your legs and his lips on your skin. He fucks you with two thick fingers, another swirling over your clit, and you wonder vaguely how he knows how to curl the two inside you just right against your g-spot.
You reach behind you to grip the back of his neck as you arch, your hips circling. He hooks his chin over your shoulder and you go molten at the thought that he’s watching himself finger-fuck you to climax.
“Are you going to—?”
“Yeah,” you breathe.
“Good.”
It's said through clenched teeth, a gritted jaw. He’s deriving so much pleasure from your pleasure, it's dizzying.
Teeth close over your shoulder and he bites down as you begin shudder and shake, as you clench and spasm around the thrust of his fingers—as you listen to his voice break on a groan as he feels it and draws it out—until the pleasure wanes and you melt back against him, boneless and sated, his strong body an anchor underneath you in the water.
You pant together, your head tipped back to rest on his shoulder, and all you can think about is how fucking close his lips are to yours. You could turn your face and kiss his jaw. He could angle your head and push his tongue into your mouth so easily. You’re so pliant; you want it so badly.
You consider asking. And then you consider the fact that he’s likely thinking about the same thing—your closeness is palpable, the tension a live, shivering thing—and he isn’t doing anything about it. He isn’t fitting a hand to your cheek to maneuver you just so.
You won’t ask for something he isn’t ready to offer.
When he finally does let you go, this visit that was so different from the others ends the same. He guides you back to the exit and hands you the robe that hangs by the door. As he helps you shoulder it on, he murmurs a sincere thank you, accompanied by a rumble of your name.
There’s one notable difference: as you're walking through the doorway, he catches your hand and squeezes it fleetingly before letting it drop.
The door shuts behind you with a click.
As always, a stack of credits far too high will be left in the room for you, and just like every other time, you’ll wait impatiently for his return.
#din djarin x you#the mandalorian x you#mando x you#din djarin x f!reader#mando x f!reader#the mandalorian x f!reader#din djarin fanfiction#the mandalorian fanfiction#din djarin x female reader#mando x female reader#the mandalorian x female reader
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cold, lips blue
din djarin x f!reader | masterlist
summary: din takes you to see the snow, and then uses his body heat to warm you up.
warnings: softest smut soft!din. p in v. no use of y/n. loosely season one/two. same reader as isn't it - but no requirement to read.
wordcount: 3.1k
With him, you’re discovering wonderlands.
Eyes finding places your dreams couldn’t even manifest, dream or conjure—shades coming to life, appearing in mixed colours and strong hues.
Each sight makes your heart do a double take as you steal extra seconds from plans to take it all in.
Today’s wonder is all white.
It’s littered with occasional grey stones and slightly blued pebbles. The piles of them doing their best to intersperse, to be a break in the rolling snow-covered hills. Provide some form of depth, give something for your eyes to latch onto—to prove there’s vastness.
The first solid thought you’d had when the hull door opened was, it’s bright. Almost uncomfortably, so,
Eyes squinting instantly, forcing yourself to see through your lashes, forearm coming up to shield you further as the wind howled and flakes began their escape into the ship.
Eyes squinting instantly, yet you force yourself to see through your lashes, forearm coming up to shield you further as the wind howled. Its mournful wail echoes through the air and flakes dance in a frantic ballet, their delicate forms swirl like spirits wishing to escape into the ship.
Stepping outside, more snow finds refuge on your cheeks, forehead and nose, resting there momentarily, before vanishing as though they’d never existed. They leave behind only the sensation, a fleeting tickle, like the echo of a memory. Just like a kiss, its presence lingers, an imprint on the skin, brief yet unforgettable.
Just like him, you suppose. Just like all the kisses the two of you have shared.
The last one, in particular.
The softness of it. The way he so cautiously slanted his mouth over yours, cupped your head in his hand and spent seconds, minutes mapping out your lips before he even slid his tongue past your teeth.
You’d made notes of things too—the low grunt he tried to bury in his throat, the way his body slowly relaxed itself on top of yours. All welcome, a weight you’d forever wear.
Forever. An odd word. Seven letters, and yet it expands through space and time. It’s ever-lasting, yet could be gone in a moment.
Turning on the spot, your senses tune in to the sounds of it crunching under your boots. Bits of it find shelter within the worn seams, seeping into the crevices as if seeking solace in the fabric that has weathered so much, all over-worn and loved.
You’re glad, in a sense.
Even if your toes grow colder and liquid begins to slide under the arch of your foot—it just means you can feel more of it. Soak as much of it in, and let it solder itself to you, so a piece of it lives within when the three of you turn your back on this place.
You hear him follow, and all you think is that he's welded a part of himself in you too.
A fragment at first—and now you’re sure he’s carved himself something larger. It's less about ordering you to stay behind, grasping for you in dark spaces that turn into heady nights spent panting. Now, it’s more about crawling in beside you because you know to wait, trusting him to always return. It's more about the way you can map his face with your palms—bask in the sensation of his breath on your collarbone...
Cold stretches there now.
You’re sure if you slide open your layers, the skin would pebble before it would begin to ache—to become desperate for cover. You wonder if your bones would want to shake and shiver; whether your blood would slow, if your mind would become a little less heavy?
“This okay?”
He speaks—making the two words slice through the howl and the heavy breaths you’re consuming.
Asking it as though a smile hadn’t been stitched into your face since the moment he’d told you he had a surprise. A treat. As though he hadn’t watched a twinkle in your eye because you know he doesn’t make half-promises and he does not give without thought.
“More than okay,” you reply, voice gentle, it flowing from your lips as you let your gaze rest on him.
Let it sit there.
Allow your mind to begin to walk away with itself as you recall the way he jolted, the soft murmur he exclaimed when he danced between being awake and asleep.
You wonder if he regrets this. Whether the way you curled into him to soothe had been a step too far; whether your palm flat to his cheek, knuckles tracing the stubble that leaves welcomed burns along your thighs, had been too much for him.
He hadn’t said as much.
Not even once.
Sighing, letting it trickle past your mouth, you stare up—the sight of frost falling seemingly coming from nowhere and yet somewhere. Lost in it. Attempting to trace, to find the origination, only to find yourself struggling to see, to focus—too bright, you think again, chin dropping, eyes closing as you take another deep breath.
It’s why it slips out, is spoken before you realise it’s left your lips. It travels in wispy condensation, hand outstretched, palm upturned, as the words fill the silence: I’ve never felt falling snow.
You hear the sound of his boots crunching snow, the gap between the two of you closing as you flick your eyes to him—not halting him, but rather ensuring he knows you see him.
The dangerous side and the gentler side; the one who hunts and the one who caretakers. And all the rest in the middle.
You drop your gaze to him—the one more beloved than ship, principles or bounties. Snow resting atop his green head, ears twitching when certain flakes make contact.
Then, you stare at the helmet. Silently asking, all done in an exchange, a purposeful distraction—with a reply given in a tilt, a descent of his beskar-covered shoulders before the child was placed on the ground.
“I’ll be gentle.”
“It’s not him I’m worried about.”
You snort. "You trust me, Mando?"
He says nothing, which says a lot.
And you allow a deep inhale to follow—one that flows ice through your nose, forcing it to crash into the sides of your lungs as you almost gasp.
It’s a different kind of cold here.
A lot of things are different now.
You don’t concede to the ache in your bones or the weariness in your jaw from the relentless clenching of your teeth. You hide it beneath a veneer of stoicism and resolve.
Because if you do, the three of you will leave.
Stubbornness, some would say; utreekov he would say.
All under his breath, later translated when your mouth wraps around his cock—when you hollow cheeks and trace the tip of your tongue along the slit as salt kisses the roof of your mouth.
He decides for you when you blow into your gloves. A firm declaration, bold: Grogu needs to sleep.
It is less a question, and more of a statement; not quite an order, but he leaves little room to argue. The child picked up, scooped practically from the ground, leaving you to face the back of them both.
If you were closer, you’d likely see your dismay reflected in the beskar. The ball in your hand melting, before you let it fall in a half-formed lump to the ground. Letting it reunite with others similar to it before your soles flatten it, crush it back into nothingness.
You shiver, with no attempt to hide it this time, his eyes no longer a threat—no necessity to fight it or bury it. Letting it rumble through you as your teeth move on their own accord. Knowing, without touching, that your lips are likely colder than the melting snow that had been in your hand.
It might not have been the case if you hadn’t taken six snowballs to the face in the last so many moments.
The balls had been cupped and formed in your palms before you'd thrown them, only to have them flung back at you. A test, an experiment. A training session for Grogu and another thing ticked off from the list of things you’d ever done.
Yet, still, there are many things left.
A never-ending listicle—but, there alongside the ones for him are even more questions you're not sure you'll get an answer on.
They won't be shared. You won't whisper them to him when you’re both bare and catching your breaths. They'll rot inside of you, leave them tucked behind sinew and held back by stronger muscles than you have anywhere else.
You know the protocol when you are back in the warmth.
Silently disrobing, entering the refresher—followed by dressing and the rest of your usual routine as the other two sit up top, one resting and the other doing his utmost to avoid.
A thing that rarely bothers you, except now, your skull throbs—pounds. A sudden desire to call out his name, to ask him to come, for no reason other than to be held. The back of your hand finds nothing but chill, cold and sweat when it brushes your forehead, an unsteadiness to your walk as you manoeuvre—so reminiscent of the first few days on the ship—his name being swallowed.
Bed, you think.
Moving slowly, each step is akin to a baby's crawl until you finally grasp the comfort of it before sliding up further into it, encasing yourself, wrapping until you’re closer to a ball than a person.
You’re not sure how long you lie, how much time passes, but when he calls your name it sounds distant—far off.
And, so he calls it again, and again. A chant, a melody, it carries around the walls and greets your ear each time. There's just no energy to reply, nothing else inside of you than being curled and willing warmth to stretch out across skin, muscle and ossein.
Maker.
He breathes it. Allows it to flow out. But, it isn’t until his hand knocks away the sheet, fingers brushing over your calf do you hear him hiss.
“Kriff, you’re freezing.”
You murmur something, mind willing for an I know but not entirely sure what hits the air. Barely able to do more than remain still, to stop yourself from shivering.
Worth it, you add. Repeating it, the bridge to the song of your name he'd begun earlier, until you open your eyes and find yourself in the dark.
It's all-encompassing in its cloak of midnight, the darkness enveloping you like a heavy shroud, pressing against your skin with an oppressive weight, suffocating any glimmer of light and casting you into a realm of shadows and ambiguity.
Then you hear him undress.
Able to tell now, able to spot when each item is placed down—like a strip tease you’ve never been privileged to actually see, but the routine is all but memorised.
You want to reply, tell him you'll be fine as a tremble rips through you—finding it’s easier to keep your teeth together. Easier to tremble and shiver and shake.
That is, until you feel him shift, the presence of him looming before his body begins to smother yours.
It's all broad, heavy—heartbeat hammering against your skin as it ripples a kind of tune through your bones. But it's the warmth you grasp for; bring closer. Your fingers digging into skin and muscle, needing him flush to you more than you need to breathe.
It’s not romantic, but in a way it also is.
Even if shrouded in a blanket of faux night, there’s something intimate about the way he feels around you. It's far softer, slower movements.
His fingers find your cheek. Thumb brushing over your lips, likely cold, lips blue, as you bite back the instinct to let it slide into your mouth. Fight hollowing cheeks around the appendage, remind him how good your mouth can feel.
Instead, you focus on him. How this time, neither of you said this wasn’t it. This wasn't the place—isn't it. No entertainment that snowy-topped hills and rolling mounds of ice could be a place he could ever leave you.
You’re thankful, more than grateful.
Wishing to say as much as you shift your body under his, his thigh slotting more gracefully between yours, so much so, that makes you whimper. A sound that makes his head move, shift quickly.
A shyness falling over you, a veil of it, weightless but still there.
You're sure he's reading you, scanning you, deciphering everything the noise could mean even in the dark.
But, it's obvious that you want him. A thing you almost shrug out, but he shifts again, purposefully rocking his thigh, intentionally pulling another whimper that proves that you're throbbing. That you need him. More than a requirement, more than survival—
Warm me. Keep me warm.
Fingers sliding to his waist, resting, thumb stroking as you nuzzle your nose against his cheek. A sign without words, a signal that flashes in its own way.
Your wants rolling, clumping. Not too dissimilar to the snowballs you had made earlier—them all compacting, hardening.
Please, Mando.
Even if he thinks you just want him, you want more than the solid length of him inside of you or his palms on the back of your thighs.
It's a thing which circulates, and you ponder over it. Turn it over when you wake before him and let sit on the back of your tongue when he's showing you what buttons and switches mean on the ship.
Because you want to know his smile, the shade of his eyes—see the faces he pulls when he tilts his head and know the unfiltered sound of his laugh. You want him to never let you go. To never let you slip under, to hold you, to always be—
“Mesh'la…”
You hadn’t known you’d been speaking out loud. Letting confessions fall, like the earlier snowflakes. Except they hadn't landed softly, or gently. But rather laboriously, thickly—making the small space feel much narrower.
Realisation slams your heart into your chest, halting thoughts, and silencing your apparent babbling.
Head turning, silence doubling—air tightening—before you think and speak, “Should be saying that t-to you.”
He hums, it vibrating through him, fluttering over where your chest meets his. “I’m not... not mesh'la.”
“Don’t need to see you to know that you are, Din.”
You’re cautious with it, his name.
Barely used, barely warranted. A thing given to you one night when your face was buried into his neck—a silent promise made when he’d handed it to you. An offering.
You feel his head rise, each of his muscles taut, and you close the gap, moaning your gratitude into his mouth, all messy.
Rustling sheets sounded, suddenly aware of him. Feeling him. Pressed against you, heavy and leaking, as the rest of him remains tense. Caged in his bicep, mouth unwilling to release yours, to be anywhere but reading the rest of your wants straight from your tongue.
"Got you," he moans, signing it against you as he moves, positions himself before you can feel him nudging at your entrance, "I've got you."
And he does.
Slick with need for him, in a slow thrust, he sinks into you. Deeper and deeper. Clutching onto him, hanging more imperatively to him as he pauses, lets you adjust—mouth sliding over yours as he waits for the sign to move, to go, permission to further set you aflame.
You think each time you’ll be used to how he stretches you, how delicious it feels. How you’re so full, so content, and how he feels all warm and soft against you. But this time it’s different. Not just in the way he moves, but in the way he kisses you, in the way he murmurs soft phrases to your neck and collarbone.
Some you make out and make heat rush to your cheeks. Some you begin to try to translate before a drag of his cock sends the words spiralling into a mess of letters that fade as quickly as they were spoken.
Toes curling, fingers digging further into his waist and shoulder—leaving something on him, even if he’ll bury it in armour.
It's a thing you’ll know. He’ll know. A thing which makes him bite down on your shoulder and ask for more.
A demand which makes your back arch, makes you drop a curse as your vision blurs and your toes curl as his pace picks up.
Because you’re trembling for an entirely different reason now. So close to fracturing, to coming apart—letting have it all, the good, the bad and the parts which have rotted before he lay beside you. Seeing stars in a galaxy of nothing all because of him—I’m close, so close.
"Let me feel you."
All gruff, grunted into your neck as you tighten, clench, tangling fingers into his curls for leverage.
It should feel like falling, but it doesn’t. Never does.
It feels like an explosion. A pause—like you’re floating, not rising or descending. Just there. Flames roaring through you, burning away any leftover chill, as you flutter and howl out his name.
You writhe, whine. Moan. Paint the small space with nothing but pleasure and thankfulness and Din, oh, Din, as he tells you how good you are, how well you take him.
And, he’s not far behind. Can tell from the babbling and then the choked back where he emits as you croak back inside. Internally pleading, wishing, crossing fingers and toes that he does so, when you feel him spill into you when your name sounds both sweet and sinful as he groans it.
As he buries a word that sounds similar to mine into your neck, hips stuttering and stammering as you wrap a leg around him in response.
Yours.
There’s a moment.
The air tightens when breaths are caught and heads are clearer. The space the two of you are in is on edge. Subconsciously tensing. While you, after the softness of the moment, are unsure whether you’ll be rewarded with more or something akin to the opposite.
He answers by pulling you closer, no space between the two of you. Just sweat and skin and nil else, as his mouth and hot breath rest against your cheek, your own fingers finding purpose in his curls.
That’s when you hear it, a whisper, barely discernible from his heaving breaths: They’re brown. My eyes are brown.
Smiling, you swallow.
Nodding, something you hope he can feel.
Because a shade is something, far more than you had this morning—and it’s plenty enough, for now.
#din djarin x reader#din djarin x f!reader#din djarin fic#din djarin x you#mando x reader#mando x you#pedro pascal fic#mando x f!reader#din djarin fanfic#din djarin#din djarin x reader smut#the mandalorian#the mandalorian x f!reader#the mandalorian x female reader#the mandalorian x reader#the mandalorian x you#the mandalorian fanfiction#din djarin fanfiction
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If you’re taking those as prompts, ❛ don’t you know what you’re doing to me? ❜ with Din perhaps?
LOVE IS A FIRE THAT BURNS UNSEEN
a/n: so i took forever on this, because i kind of fell out of writing for din for...well....awhile. i can tell you this sat in my wips folder half finished for months. honestly i was wondering if it would even get finished. but i was re-watching mando last night and decided why the fuck not. i can't remember which prompt list this was from because it's been so long, but that's okay. this is not beta read or edited, but we live and die by the pen.
summary: on your list of things that could possibly happen while bounty hunting with din, dying from hypothermia wasn't included. nor was finally admitting the truth to yourself about your feelings.
word count: 3.1k+
pairing: din djarin x f!reader
warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, near death experience, angst, feelings being admitted sort of, p in v sex, a hint of choking, they're so in love it's sickening.
It’s fucking cold in the Razor Crest as you sit in the cockpit waiting for his return. You’re bundled in a jacket that has seen better days, but even with the extra layers you swear you’ll freeze to death before he comes back. Tempted to turn the ship back on in order to get some heat—you do the most to distract yourself from the frost currently eating away at the skin of your face. Din’s instructions were clear. Keep the ship hidden until he comes back with the bounty, which would be simple enough.
That is if the bounty he was currently hunting resided on a planet with a temperature that wouldn’t kill you from exposure. Everything had been fine two hours ago. You were working on repairing an old comlink as he tracked the bounty through space, having caught their signal on the outer edges of the galaxy. Except then…they were attacked. Neither of you could see who caused it or even why, but suddenly a lone ship was heading into the atmosphere on the one planet you always said you’d rather die than visit.
Hoth—a frozen pit that once housed the Rebellion of all places.
So, there you were. Shivering to gain some warmth as you scanned the area for Din’s signal. If the ship was right, he still remained alive. You only wished you could say the same for yourself by the time he came back.
The cold had begun to seep into your layers, hitting your chest directly and causing you to cough harshly. If he didn’t return within the hour he would find you dead due to hypothermia. Except that’s not what scared you. It was the fact that he would be the one to find you—a man who showed absolutely no interest in you whatsoever.
You weren’t sure when the crush started or even why, but you do know the realization hit you harder than a speeder-bike going at full speed one day while you were sitting beside him in the cockpit. He laughed at something you said, the chuckle low and slightly clipped due to his modulator and that’s what did it. What had you sitting there in shock—eyes wide—as it suddenly dawned on you that…you liked him. A lot more than you would have ever thought before.
“Maker fucking above,” you muttered, your teeth chattering with the words. “Hurry up, bucket head.”
Vaguely you recalled some survival tips from your time as a teenager on Bracca working as a scrapper. Never touch live wires, always look out for yourself, and when stuck in freezing temperatures—layers become your best friend. So, you stumbled out of the cockpit chair and towards the ladder that would lead you to the rest of his ship. Slow small steps were all you could manage as your body went into overdrive to try and keep you warm. Except the ship acted as an icebox rather than a heater.
You could lock yourself in his small cot, burrowing under the blankets he’d bought because of you complaining there wasn’t enough on the ship. But you’d first have to get there. It was a struggle to even climb down the ladder—your breath coming in gasps as your lungs fought against the freezing air. How long had you been sitting up there? You held no answer to the question, because the results were clear to you now; you were up there long enough to lead you right to death’s doorstep.
Dragging yourself along the side of the ship wall, you flinched as the cold metal touched your cheek. You should have gone against his orders and simply turned the ship back on. It would keep you from this—currently fighting against hypothermia as Din took his sweet time coming back.
The sound of the airlock on the door releasing when it opened brought a small flicker of hope to life, burning bright in your chest. But it faded just as quickly as it came. You caught sight of him dragging a half dead bounty up the ramp—his helmet turned towards you—before you collapsed to the ground. Your body shivering in a final attempt to generate enough body heat in order to keep you alive.
His voice calling your name echoed in the back of your mind as you drifted off—the concept of sleep far more enticing than it should be.
Steady breaths against your bare back was what you woke up—your mind drifting slowly back to reality. Or at least what you thought to be reality. The last thing you could recall was seeing Din’s helmet as your body did what it could to survive. How you ended up in the darkness of his cot, pressed against someone you assumed to be him…naked, was a mystery to you. Perhaps you were still dreaming. This must be how your mind envisioned some form of peace to ease your soul into an afterlife.
“You’re awake.” His voice caught you off guard—the breath in your throat catching.
“How…”
The shift of his body created a low burn of heat to appear at the bottom of your stomach as his arm tightened around your waist—drawing you closer. “You almost stopped breathing when I got back. Your body went into shock from the cold.”
“I was dying,” you said softly, the realization far less jarring than waking beside him in the nude.
He hummed, the low pitch a vibration you felt along your back. “I had to get you warm.”
“So you took off my clothes?” you asked, the smile prominent in your tone.
“Generating enough body heat only works when—”
“Both of us are naked.”
His fingers gripped onto the soft skin of your belly. “Yes,” he replied—voice slightly strained.
Somehow it never registered that he was actually sans armor and clothing until you felt his hand glide further up. The soft skin of his palm turned the spark into a fully formed flame that traveled its way through your body. He was laying beside you…naked. If you concentrated hard enough, you could feel the rise and fall of his stomach against your lower back—his skin soft there too.
Any other time your brain would have short circuited, but the sluggishness from sleep had yet to wear off. It made you rather docile—something you felt oddly grateful for. You were entirely aware, fully conscious of your words and decisions, but the tranquility in your body seemingly spurred you forward. No other time would you be this centered—this sure of yourself—and maybe that’s where you made the mistake, because this was dangerous. Revealing the feelings you’d harbored for months was like poison to your heart…positively lethal.
“Din,” you murmured, the soft heat coming from his body now spreading into yours.
If you knew you’d end up like this after one visit to Hoth, you would have come here a lot sooner.
“Yes?” Even his breath was warm as it brushed across the bare skin of your shoulder. Maker you were close in his bed that was barely big enough for him, let alone you beside him.
“I—” The words caught in the base of your throat, lodging themselves there like a stone you couldn’t swallow. You wanted to say it. Get everything out into the open and be done with it, but your mind seemed to be slowly coming to its senses.
“What is it?”
Closing your eyes, you let out a shuddered breath in the hopes that it would push down the erratic nerves which jumped under your skin. If you chickened out now, you’d never say the words. They’d be your secret—forever trapped in the cage of your heart until it was far too late to confess them. What’s funny is that they seemed like such easy things to say. How hard was it really to say I love you? How much effort did it take? Only you now realized it took a lot more than you expected.
It was far easier to die than to admit your feelings.
“I have to tell you something and I just—” Inhaling, you curled your hand around the blanket beneath you. “I don’t want you to look at me differently if things don’t turn out the way I hope.”
His thumb rubbed a soothing circle against your hip. “I won’t.”
You scoffed. “You probably will.”
The subtle shift of his body against yours caused flutters to go through your heart—rendering you speechless for a moment. He was so close it was maddening. If you had the courage you’d turn around, press yourself to him, and whisper the words against his lips. But you were practically stone, unable to even turn your head slightly to feel the press of his lips against your neck.
“For a while now I’ve felt…well…my feelings towards you have changed.” You blurted them out, hoping it was like ripping off a bandaid. Except the silence of his response hurt more than you expected.
Until—
“I know,” he said, his hand pressing a bit harder on your hip.
Nothing could have prepared you for the shockwave that went through your body. “You know?” you exclaimed.
“I’ve known since our trip to Coruscant.”
You paused, trying to form something to say, but all you could come up with was: “Why didn’t you say anything?”
Why had he let you think he held no feelings towards you? That you were alone in this. You felt him stiffen behind you, his hand pulling away slightly and your heart sank in your chest. Perhaps you had asked the wrong question. Or even touched on a part of this he didn’t want you to see. But you had to know the truth. You knew why you waited—why you couldn’t get the words out for the life of you—but why had he?
That is until he wrapped his arm around your waist tightly, jolting you back towards his body. A soft yelp left you as you tried to refocus yourself in the pitch black space. Except then you felt it. Pressing hard and insistent against your lower back—a part of Din you had only ever imagined, but never seen.
He grunted, his hand splaying across your stomach as you shifted against him. “Don’t you know what you’re doing to me?”
You gasped. “Din—”
“What you’ve been doing?
His hips canted downwards, grinding against you and sending heat sparking up your spine. Enough to combat the cold that still remained in you, but you wanted more. You craved it. Moaning softly, you pushed back against him, pressing your thighs together to hopefully appease the growing ache that formed. Except he was one step ahead of you. Shoving his bare thigh between your legs, he pressed it upwards, grinning at the way your head fell back against his chest—a guttural moan leaving your lips.
“Every day is fucking torture,” he rasped, his hand sliding even lower until his fingers were hovering right above where you needed him most. “Because I can’t touch you.” His lips pressed against the curve of your jaw. “Because I can’t kiss you…”
“Maker,” you gasped, reaching down to wrap your hand around his wrist. “I-I want you to touch me. Want you to kiss me.”
His fingers dipped down even lower, finally parting your folds. A ragged groan was pressed to your jaw, his teeth scraping down against the skin when he found you wet and dripping for him. You could feel his heartbeat against your back. How it was erratic and almost as quick as yours. He was just as nervous as you were—if not more so, because of his creed.
He wanted you to be his, to love him as he was with his creed, but he was scared that this wasn’t permanent. You wanted to show him the inner workings of your mind, the makeup of your heart—how he was seared into it. He was ingrained so deep into your soul that you couldn’t even fathom the thought of being parted from him.
“Are you always this wet for me?” he asked, disbelief clear in his tone.
Nodding, you felt another moan begin to form, only for it to die as he pulled his fingers away. “No—”
“Shh,” he breathed, cupping your jaw as he moved even closer. “I’ll take care of you.”
Heat flooded your stomach, a whine forming in your throat as he pulled you back, the head of his cock now nudging against your entrance. You dug your nails into his forearm, your lips parting to form around his name. A ragged moan echoing in his small quarters, and he began to push forward. Sliding into you slowly as you fought to keep yourself quiet.
“So fucking tight,” he hissed, wrapping his arm around your torso and thrusting into you completely, his hips pressing against your ass. “Won’t last—”
You keened when his hand fell to your clit, circling it with enough pressure to send jolts up your spine. For a moment he simply held himself there. Encompassed in your heat as he worked you over, building your release steadily until you were pressing into him. Your hips rolling against his fingers—fucking yourself on his cock. Soft moans were pressed to your skin, the stubble on his jaw scratching along your shoulder, and that only heightened everything.
For the first time…he was entirely yours. Bare and open as he indulged in something both of you had held back from doing for so long.
Squeezing your eyes shut, you turned your head and caught the corner of his lips in a kiss. Something so tender yet so powerful. It nearly sent you over the edge and you felt Din’s surprise at the action. How his body jolted, his hips nudging forward and fingers stuttering in their motions. Even though he had proudly claimed he wanted to kiss you, to finally feel your lips against his. He had never expected it to come true.
“Cyar'ika,” he breathed.
“I want…” You gasped, hips rolling against his fingers in quick movements as that blinding feeling continued to overtake you. “Kiss me Din. Please, please—”
His mouth found yours in the darkness of his cabin, and you felt your heart scream out. Felt your entire body give into him, his name, his signet forever carved into your heart. He was your future and he knew it. Which is why he kissed you with a fervor that you believed only existed in your dreams—a passion that you felt right down to your toes. His tongue slid along yours, tasting the shitty caf you had earlier—the desperation on your tastebuds.
“Ah…” You tried to form the words on your tongue. The feelings that were trapped in your heart, but they refused to be let loose.
“I know you want to cum,” he breathed, fingers speeding up as your walls began to flutter around his cock. His other hand shifted, wrapping gently around your throat to keep your face close to his. Pressing down lightly as you gasped. “Let me feel it.”
A keening broken moan of his name ripped from you, hands scrabbling to grasp for something, settling for his arm that kept you pressed against him. White flashed behind your closed eyes, his lips swallowing every sound you made as you writhed against him. Gushing around his cock.
You didn’t hear the hoarse shout that he pressed into your mouth, his hips thrusting into you quickly as he followed you off the edge. Filling you with a warmth that you swore you felt in your chest. Biting down on his bottom lip you sucked into your mouth, moaning when he canted his hips forward, prolonging the sparks that ran up your spine. He was a panting mess and you tried to picture what he looked like.
Was his hair a mess? Were his cheeks stained red? Were his lips swollen?
The urge to simply open your eyes nearly overtook you, but you understood what came with that action. What would have to happen afterwards. Din had explained enough for you to grasp the basic details of what being a Mandalorian meant. So you kept them closed and opted to simply feel. You memorized how his lips against yours felt, what being full of him felt like.
You kept what you could nestled against your heart, remaining here for as long as possible. Din’s cock softened in you, twitching every now and then when your walls fluttered. But you solely had him to blame. Because he was running his hand along your body, grazing your nipples lightly before pulling away—the familiar feelings in your stomach stirring once more. If he wasn’t careful neither of you would be leaving this bed for quite some time.
Which didn’t bode well for you seeing as how you hated the planet you currently resided on.
“Din,” you breathed, pulling away to catch your breath before he dived down again—ready for round two of the hottest makeout session you’d partaken in.
“You want to leave,” he panted. There was something scary about how he could see your thoughts so clearly. You’d have to ask him about it later.
“No…” Your head fell back against his shoulder. “I want to stay here, but Hoth.”
He chuckled, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. “We can stay here for as long as you want.”
Half expecting him to pull out and place his helmet back in its rightful place, you were a bit surprised when he remained put. Curling himself around you closer until his body perfectly molded yours. The cold still remained in the ship—the heaters unable to counteract the snowy planet—yet you found that you were perfectly content to remain right where you were. Wrapped in his arms—the certainty of your future now nestled in his heart. Mimicking yours in every way.
“Din,” you breathed in the darkness, feeling him trace something along your waist.
“Yes?”
“I just wanted to say…” You took in a breath, trying to calm the racing of your heart. “I feel like you should hear me say it.”
He pressed a kiss to your temple, his fingers pressing down. “I know cyar'ika. I feel the same way.”
“You do?” you asked softly.
“I do.”
You settled into the bed, allowing your muscles to relax and your body to once more give into the temptation of sleep. With Din right there, you felt as if you were able to finally relax. To give in and allow yourself to float.
“You know…” You yawned, feeling his chin settle against your shoulder. “Maybe Hoth isn’t so bad.”
He smiled, his lips brushing along your skin as you drifted off, mind succumbing to the sweet snare of unconsciousness. “No,” he breathed, continuing to trace the shape of his signet on your skin, because whether you wore it or not…you were a part of his clan. His life. “It’s not.”
#din djarin x f!reader#din djarin x reader#din djarin x you#din djarin smut#din djarin#the mandalorian#the mandalorian smut#my writing
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