#*yes din has his hands on his hips*

[autumnwoodsdreamer]

Grogu: If you think about the vastness of space and how enormous our galaxy is and how big our planet is compared to how small we are, I’m not really eating all that much cheese.

[fettuccin-e]

Just This Once

Kinktober Day 18: Squirting + Dacryphilia

Tags: Din Djarin x Reader, afab!fem!reader, unprotected piv (pls wrap it before you tap it irl), fingering (r!recieving), squirting, light dacryphilia, Din being feral but also emotionally stunted (w/c: 1.7K)

A/N: Guess who fell behind on Kinktober again, womp womp. I will not give up though!! I am determined to finish, so please enjoy this Din fic that I may or may not have gotten too invested in while writing it and stay tuned for some more filth coming (and cumming hahaha) soon!! (for Kinktober I have been using this list from flightlessangelwings!)

There’s something about the coldness of space, the loneliness of it, that makes you so desperate.

When the Crest is quiet, the baby asleep, all you can feel is the vastness of the universe around you, your body cold and needy for touch. And Maker, the Mandalorian notices immediately, the way you cross and uncross your legs in the seat behind him, curling your fingers into your thighs as the stars fly past the ship. You don’t mean to be obvious, but Din always notices.

He knows how to treat you when you get like this, all needy and desperate for his touch, even when you don’t want to admit it. Din is willing to admit that you are far more than just a friend to him, but you both narrowly avoid the strength of the feelings between you both, the bond that drags you together. But still, Din knows exactly what you need, and he has absolutely no problem giving it to you.

He has you splayed across his lap, your back pressed against his chestplate, your head lolling back onto his shoulder. He’d lost his gloves the moment you’d peeled off your pants, his hands the only skin he’ll allow himself to touch you with. It’s a wonderful loophole for you, but an exercise in torture for him. He wants to feel your back pressed against his bare chest, trace his lips down your neck. Wants to feel your heartbeat against his, quick and warm and alive. 

This is the Way, he reminds himself, despite knowing, deep down, that he’s already broken something just by touching you without his gloves. But stars, how can he resist when your pretty, desperate little cunt pulses beneath his fingertips, begging for more, more, more.

He ghosts his fingers up the slick seam of your pussy, and has to hold back his own groan at the way you whine, pressing back against him as your hips twitch uncontrollably.

“Stars, you’re wet,” he grunts, pressing a thick finger into your entrance, already gaping with your need for something, anything to clutch onto. “Needed me this bad, cyar’ika?”

“‘M so- so empty, Din, fuck, it’s like,” you cut yourself off with a gasp as he starts fucking you with that one thick finger, feeling it drag across your walls. “It’s like I can’t fucking breathe without you touching me, Maker, I need it all the time, Din.” 

And it’s true. When you’d first started traveling with Din and the baby, you’d barely even noticed the loneliness. You’d been lonely your whole life, eager to escape your desolate little planet and see the stars.

But then Din had done this for the first time, when tensions had run too high, when things had gone just a little too far.

“Just this once,” he’d muttered, “Can I touch you?�� he’d asked, and you’d said yes without a thought.

He’d peeled off his glove, touching your face gently, so gently with those calloused fingers. He’d laid you out on his small mattress, pressing the front of his helmet to your forehead as he let his hand roam the expanse of your body, squeezing your skin over your clothes before brushing them over your clit through your pants. When you’d jerked up and moaned, he could only let out a shaky exhale through his visor as he rubbed tight circles into it, enraptured by the way you whimpered and squirmed beneath him.

“Just once,” he kept muttering, even as he worked one, two orgasms out of your body, “just once.”

Except it happened again. And again. And again.

And now you can barely sleep without wanting, needing Din to touch you. He hasn’t fucked you; there’s an unspoken rule that he’s broken enough of the Creed for you, telling you his name, touching you like he does. You don’t question it, not when you’re the one getting fucked on his fingers until you’re in tears, ravenous for his hands on your body.

It’s like it gets worse as time goes on, your need for him. Even now, pressed against his chest as his thick thighs spread you wide for his hands, it’s like the first time. You writhe against him as he works another finger into your hot cunt, your slick covering his hand. You hump forward into them without meaning to, and you turn your head to tuck it into his cowl as he works you over.

Din fucks his fingers furiously into you, using his other arm to brace across your hips, keeping you pinned to him. He’s practically growling as he pumps his hand between your legs, crooking his fingers up to press against the spot that makes you cry so beautiful for him. He keeps his fingers pressed deep for a moment, just grinding the tips of them into that spot relentlessly and relishing in the way you cry his name so prettily.

“Din, please- oh fuck! Stars, it’s too much, it’s too much oh my- ah-” you wine, feeling tears start to build in your eyes as you edge dangerously close to that peak you need so bad.

“C’mon, mesh’la, let go for me, squeeze my fingers with this little cunt,” he growls, and fuck, you can’t even breathe as you let him work you over, making you cum so hard that you can’t do anything but gasp for air.

And Din can’t fucking take it anymore.

“Fuck, I-” you hear him say, and you turn your head to look at him, even as aftershocks wrack your body, even as his fingers stay buried inside.

“What, Din?” you whisper, and Din nearly curses at the sight of you. Your lashes are wet with tears, stars, why do you have to look at him like that? It wears at his carefully honed control, and fuck, he can practically feel it snap at the sight of you, as the feeling of you.

“Can I fuck you?” he rasps, and you hear him suck in a breath, “please let me fuck you.” You can't hold back the keening whine that leaves your mouth, and Din shivers behind you at the sound of it.

“Please,” you breathe, and Din pulls his fingers out of you without missing a beat, reaching behind you, between your bodies to pull his cock out of his pants haphazardly. You feel the hardness of it press against your lower back, and resist the urge to look. You don’t want to cross any more lines than he’s given you.

“Just this once,” he mutters, pulling your hips back over him, notching the thick head of his cock to your entrance. “Just need to feel you, once, fuck, just once,” and he pulls you down, down, letting his cock stretch you so wide, so perfect.

Months in space, just weeks of having Din touch you, stars, it’s nothing compared to this. You eyes roll to the back of your head as he settles deep inside, so fucking deep that it makes your toes curl.

“Dank farrik, that’s fucking tight-” he grunts, the hot, wet heat of your cunt pulsing around him almost making him fill you up right then and there. He bites his tongue, praying to the Maker that the pain stops him from ending this far too fucking soon.

He uses his hard, strong grip on your hips to roll you into him, grinding you down hard onto his cock. You can only take it as he punches his hips up in aborted, desperate little thrusts that grind into your sweet spot.

“Fuck, Din, it’s so big, I can’t-” you whine, but Din only growls beneath his visor, fucking up into you harder, and your head falls back onto his shoulder plate at the feeling of it. It’s so perfect, it’s everything you’ve needed, stars, how will you survive without him filling you up like this?

“Give me another one, cyare,” he mutters, and he uses one of his hands to bring his fingers to your clit, just like he did that first night. Except this time, his cock is inside you, spreading you so wide and pressing up into your g-spot with every fucking thrust in. You gasp for air, little whines punching out of your throat every time Din shoves in all the way. 

He’s a violent man, always has been, and fucking you is no exception. He fucks you like he hunts: fast, rough, fucking monstrous. Tears finally start to pour down your cheeks, and you hiccup through your moans.

“Look at you,” he rasps, “sobbing on my cock like the needy whore you are.” He doesn’t know what’s happened to him, he’s never talked like this, let alone to you. But stars, the way you moan for him has his head spinning, has words pouring out of his mouth like they’ve been trapped there all this time. “Mesh’la, squeezing me so perfect, never want to leave this perfect cunt.”

“Din, fuck, Din, I’m gonna- stars, I’m gonna-” you gasp, your hands scrabbling at the one hand he has rubbing at your swollen clit.

“C’mon, c’mon, let me feel it, need to fucking feel it-” he mutters, and oh-

You’re pretty sure you scream as you cum, but it’s hard to hear it over the ringing in your ears as you thrash in Din’s lap. You can feel him still inside you, his horrible fingers still rubbing dexterous circles into your clit as he floods your cunt with his cum. Your orgasm feels fucking endless, your thighs trying to close but still held wide by Din’s between them. 

When you finally start to hear again, the blurriness fading from your vision, you can hear Din behind you, muttering, “fuck, so beautiful, didn’t- didn’t know you could do that.”

“Do- do what?” you slur, still groggy, but as you look in front of yourself, you can see the mess you’ve made. You’d fucking squirted, your wetness drenching his thighs and the floor of the hull. The sight makes your head spin, and you hide your face in his cowl as he wraps his arms around you, hugging you close to him. The coolness of his armor is soothing to your overly-heated body.

“So good, you did so good for me, cyar’ika,” he mumbles beneath the visor. “So pretty, can’t believe- you looked so beautiful.”

You let yourself relax into his hold, and he doesn’t let you go. “Didn’t know I could do that either,” you mumble, sleep already weighing down your eyelids, exhaustion flooding your body. “We’ll have to try again later,” you mumble. “Don’t think once is enough.”

“It will never be enough,” you hear him whisper, “not with you.”

[gay-dorito-dust]

*shuffles in* au where Luke is good and where he tries to pursue Percy’s older sister reader (reader also likes Luke too)?

Recently you’ve began to take notice how every interaction you had with Luke -past a certain period of time- had shifted somewhat in a different direction that had only seem plausible within your dreams.

What was it that had changed?

He has began to enclose the distance between you and started ramping up the physical affection that anytime you talked to him, it felt as though you were pushing the boundaries between romantic and platonic. Not to mention how when he needed to get back to his camp duties he seemed to hesitate on the idea of leaving your side, his already dark eyes somehow had gotten even more darker in colour with disappointment that your time was cut short, and the way his hand seemed to share the same disappointment by slowly moving down your arm and lingering at your hand longer then usual before pulling away completely; leaving a trail of warmth in it’s wake as though it was still slowly dragging it’s way down your arm.

‘See you at dinning pavilion yeah?’ He’d always ask and you’d always say yes, which seemed to be the right thing to say as his smile became a little less forced and more genuine and his eyes brightened at the prospect of seeing you again, as though it was the only thing that mattered most to him.

Today was no different than any other. It started out like it usually does, with you waking up, getting Percy up and heckling him a little as you tended to do before the both of you got changed and started marking your way out to start the day, where you saw Luke standing nearby the steps of the dinning pavilion, obviously waiting for someone.

Percy to scoff and nudge you in the side. ‘Lover boy is waiting for you, again.’

‘He isn’t my lover boy Percy, so lay off him alright.’ You replied, playfully shoving him by the shoulder and ruffling his hair, smiling when he batted your hand away, unamused.

‘I don’t know,’ he drew out, ‘it seems to me that you’re the only one at camp who’s oblivious to the fact that he’s trying to woo you and doing it way too hard in my opinion.’ He muttered the last bit under his breath as he tried concentrating on sorting out his hair. ‘And besides it’s not like he’s trying to make an attempt in hiding it either I mean look at him! He looks like an excited puppy dog seeing their owner after a while with you!’ Just as Percy said those words, Luke’s expression immediately brightens upon seeing you and he starts to make his way over.

‘Heya Sea angel.’ He greeted before realising that Percy was also there, hands on his hips and looking at him with a raised brow, and laughed. ‘Heya Percy.’ Your brother only smiled briefly at him, ‘hi Luke,’ he said shortly only to then look towards you and patting your arm sympathetically. ‘See ya later coral for brains, don’t choke now will you?’ He smirked teasingly before leaving you both to yourselves; You wanted to smack your brother upside the head for his comment but instead said ‘say hi to Annabeth for me will ya fish breathe?’ At this Percy only looked back at you with a look that told you that’s exactly where he was going, causing you to laugh at how well you knew your brother.

You looked back to Luke and saw him staring at you with a look you only seen him give you in your dreams, a soft look in his eyes that seemed permanently locked onto you and a dopey smile, you had to subtly pinch your arm to make sure that you were awake and not still sleeping before clearing your throat and smiling at him.

‘Heya golden boy, have I ever told you that it’s a mystery how you can always be all bright and chipper at this time whilst the rest of us look like dead.’ You joked and despite not thinking it was at all that funny, Luke still laughed and you didn’t notice that you were showing more attention to the way he ran his fingers through his dark hair until he began speaking. ‘Well maybe I have something that I always look forward to seeing first thing every morning.’ You didn’t know if you were reaching but the way Luke worded that and the way he was looking at you made you believe that he was talking about you in that moment.

‘Whatever it must be has got to be quite important, especially if you’re willing to get up this early.’ You replied, hoping that you weren’t looking eager or desperate so early into your conversation to knowing who this mysterious person was.

‘Yeah they really are.’ Luke admits as he steps closer to you and reaches to brush something off of your shoulder, but let’s his hand linger there as his thumb absently begins to stroke patterns into your clothed skin; You swallowed thickly and tried to remain focused and not let all of your attention to be drawn to the hand on your shoulder. ‘So Luke Castellan, golden boy of Camp Half-Blood has a crush?’ You questioned, putting a hand over your chest as though hurt and sighed dramatically. ‘Whatever will your little groupies who clamber to watch you train will think of this?’

Luke scoffed at this as his hand squeezed your shoulder. ‘They’ll live and besides I’ve had my eyes on this person for a long while and have been trying to muster up the courage to ask them out on a date but only…’ He trails off as his hand drags down your arm excruciatingly slow before grasping your hand, causing your breath to hitch, his eyes seemed to flicker down to your lips on multiple occasions before settling on looking deeply into your eyes. ‘Only if they wanted to, that is.’ You swallowed the lump in your throat, suddenly hyperaware of how this all looked from an outsiders perspective, and feeling at a genuine loss for words but still tried your best to act unaffected.

‘What’s holding you back from doing so?’ You asked, voice barely above a whisper. ‘For all I’m aware you’re a great guy Luke, so I’m sure they’ll say yes because anybody would be lucky to date you.’ You heard Luke inhale deeply and you thought you said the wrong thing but before you could backtrack Luke had already beaten you and said;

‘Then date me.’

You blinked once, twice, three times. ‘I’m sorry?’

‘If you think I’m such a great guy, then why don’t you date me then?’ He continued.

‘I-i mean-‘ you were stammering now at his straightforwardness.

‘You just said that anyone would be lucky to have me, then be the one who’s lucky sea angel.’ He concludes, he was practically pinning you against one of the columns of the pavilion now, his forehead was pressed against your own and you could feel his lips brush against your own with every word that past your lips, you felt like you were going to faint then and there but held strong because when were you going to get another chance like this? ‘What’s happening right now?’ You asked, feeling a little lost and out of your element at this instance. You wanted it to be what you think this was, he was literally confessing to you but your brain couldn’t comprehend what your heart had been waiting for so long.

‘I’m asking you out sea angel.’ Luke said with a charming smile, ‘so what do you say?’

You didn’t need to think twice about your answer that came out of your mouth almost automatically. ‘Took you long enough Golden Boy because i originally thought I was going to have to make the first move. I’m glad that I’m wrong.’

‘So am I.’ Luke replied as he casted his eyes downwards to your lips, licking his own. ‘Can I kiss you now?’ You scoffed, grabbing him by the collar of his shirt and closing the last remaining bit of distance between you two, muttering against his lips before passionately kissing him. ‘You didn’t need to ask but I appreciate the sentiment.’

[tinydefector]

*careless whispers playing* swerve: so this one’s part of a human mating ritual. It’s sad, cliche melody and themes make nearby humans pitty the performer and assume they get none. The dim lighting means the humans can’t tell it’s not night time, and makes them more aroused.

-bumpinSUV

Caught out - Human Effects

Warnings: unrestricted internet access

Word count 2.3k

I had so much fun doing this and working it into the human effects series so I hope you enjoy it. Bumpin, also I can't wait to do the other one you sent in.

Masterlist

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Rodimus pinches the bridge of his nasal ridge as he vents loudly. "Swerve, for the last time, that song is not actually part of human mating rituals. Please it's so stupid" he exclaims in annoyance. Since they got the music set so the crew could listen to the collective Spotify on the human crews request, Swerve had been raving about the song Careless Whispers.  

Meanwhile Whirl is cackling, their one optic on the mini-bot as he sways ridiculously to the music. "Aww c'mon Roddy let Swerve have his fun! I think it's working, look, those humans will definitely feel sorry for ol' Sweeeevy." The helimech cackles. 

Swerve ignores them, enthusiastically crooning along at the top of his vocalizer. "Oh I...I'm never gonna dance again... guilty feet have got no rhythm!" He attempts a crude mimicry of human hip shaking that has several crewmembers watch in mixed emotion.

Rubbing his chevron tiredly, Rodimus cuts in. "Swerve. Buddy. For your own good, please shut it off before the humans see you making an aft of yourself, plus I know for a fact that Daniel would start withering into a husk if he heard that song." 

Whirl creases with laughter at the minibot's antics as Rodimus shakes his helm, wondering if he can find the will to survive another one of Swerve's "cultural exchanges." 

Megatron walks in looking rather tired and ready for a drink when his optics land on Whirl and Rodimus. He pauses in the doorway as the chaotic scene before him registers - Whirl cackling hysterically as always, Rodimus with an expression of long-suffering exasperation, and Swerve... dancing? to some strange organic music. One eyebrow plate arches high, and the barest ghost of a bemused smirk tugs at one corner of his mouth. 

"I leave you all alone for a few cycles and return to find the Lost Light devolved into complete anarchy, it seems." His rumbling voice cuts through the din, Whirl just slams his claws on the table as they maniacally laugh, not an ounce of shame. Rodimus heaves a sigh. "Swerve was just...educating us on human courting rituals. Apparently that song is a big part of it. Which I would argue is a lie! " 

Megatron's other brow joins the first. He regards the tiny bartender with an air of dry amusement. "Is that so. Well, carry on by all means. we wouldn't want to disrupt such... illuminating cultural exchange. But do try to keep the debauchery contained, yes? There are still functioning mechs aboard this ship." 

With that and a brief nod to Rodimus, signalling the matter settled, Megatron turns on heel striding purposefully toward a table hidden in a corner so he doesn't have to deal with the chaos. He requires nothing less than a stiff drink After the cycle.

Rodimus, on the other hand, looks close to joining Whirl in hysterics - though from frustration rather than mirth. One hand grips his audial fins tightly as if to block out the noise. "Swerve, please, for the love of Primus, stop. You are NOT courting humans like that!" 

At that moment Whirl's gazing gaze Shifts to Rodimus. “ I don't see you getting any Captain,  what makes you think you know what the fleshies like, don't listen to him Swerve” calls back loudly Before Rodimus decides he's had enough. throwing his servos up. "Ugh, forget it. I'm joining Megatron for engex, have fun." And with that, he stalks away muttering about finding more suitable crew members to share drinks with. 

But Whirl is having too much fun, falling over themself in mirth. "Go Swervy go! Shake that fine aft, get you some Earth tail! Yeaaah get it!" His exuberant hollers only encourage the bartender, who throws himself with renewed vigour into his poor approximation of human dancing. 

After Swerve's crude example of a dance other bots begin inquiry about it. Some are interested in learning about humans. "But where did you learn about Swerve,  I need sources" Skids states while his optics narrow on Swerve. Nigthbeat sat off to the side not paying much attention. As Tailgate, Nautica and Skids inquired for more information, they doubted he had asked any of the human crew members on ship about such a thing, plus it had been a while since the ambassador or any of the crew had been to the bar recently. 

Swerve shifts nervously under the intense gazes boring into him from Skids and the others. His visor brightens as he attempts a shrug. "Oh you know, around...the holoweb. Places, the internet"

Skids narrows his optics further. "Uh huh. And when exactly were you surfing the human internet from the Lost Light?" He crosses his arms, expression clearly stating he isn't buying Swerve's story. 

Tailgate tilts his head curiously. "But didn't you say you learned it from a human, I don't think they'd teach dancing like THAT..." 

A sly grin spreads across Nautica's faceplates. "Unless...were you watching those strange organic videos? What were they called again - tiktoks?" 

Swerve visibly blanches, waving his arms wildly. "Wh-what? No no, of course not! I would never -" 

But Cyclonus, who has been silently observing, speaks up then with quiet certainty. "He's lying. He has had no contact with humans outside of when they come to the bar, he hasn't talked with any of them except Nadia on the rare occasion” The bartender deflates completely as amused chuckles rise up around him. Nautica pats his shoulder kindly. He had been called out for not really talking with the crew, but in his defence he didn't know how to socialise with them outside of serving drinks. 

 "It's okay Swerve, next time just acutely get your information from a human, doubt the ambassador would like you going around spreading misinformation" 

After a moment of processing Rodimus looks up in shock. "Wait a klik We have access to the human internet!?" He asked in shock, when had that happened who set it up and why wasn't he informed. Beside him, Megatron pinches the bridge of his noseplate wearily. "I had hoped to keep that information need-to-know, Rodimus. But yes, Brainstorm installed a transfer several deca-cycles ago to...broaden cultural understanding, and make it easier for a cross line from the holo to the internet so information trade was easier." 

Skids pipes up helpfully. "I believe his exact words were 'for science!', but we all know he just wanted to look at more theories about humans and their social behaviour. Fleshie fragger!." He sings out the last part which makes some of the other mechs laugh. 

Tailgate gasps excitedly. "Ooh, that's really cool, I wanna see the cute Earth pets!" It makes Cyclonus chuckle softly as he watches the smaller bots' optics widen in wonder. 

Rodimus throws his servos up. "Why am I always the last to know about these things?! As Captain I should be informed of any new ship systems or tech!" He grumbles, directing a half-hearted glare at Megatron. The former warlord merely sips his drink placidly. "Think of it as a learning experience in responsible leadership, Rodimus. If you would have read the highlighted parts of the report like i had asked you would have seen that we did this installation"

Rodimus grumbles to him as he takes another sip of his own drink, still glaring at Megatron over being called out on his neglect of the reports, he had been doing more reading of them but it did get to a point where he wanted to slam his helm into a wall.  

It makes Sunstreaker freeze for a moment, realising that it meant the humans most likely had access to their own sites. "Wait if we can access their internet does that mean they now also have access to our holoweb, sites and forums?" He asked rather worriedly, Silence falls over the group as Sunstreaker's question sinks in, optics widening in collective horror. they all know exactly the kind of classified, compromising or just plain embarrassing things lurking on Cybertronian networks. 

Hound is the first to break the quiet. "Primus, can you imagine if the humans found some of the stuff posted on ProwlFanForums? Or some of the theories on WireTap, Commlink?" 

Blaster groans, faceplates pale. "My holovids from Vos Carnival are still online! If they find those videos Primus..." He wasn't expecting this but if one of the humans found it, one of the crew they would know he had shown them a few photos of his cassettes and it wouldn't be hard to put too and too together.  

Rewind sits back watching the chaos in amusement. “It be a shame if they saw how many of you are interface Feral scrapers” he teases which makes even more bots panic. 

“Frag, frag, frag, I need to delete my profiles, I never existed!” 

“Oh Primus, of any of the thirteen listening,  please erase myself”   

“No, no, they can't know about those sites can that, they wouldn't think to look that far!” 

 

Rodimus hurriedly waves his servos. "Alright everyone stay calm! We'll get Brainstorm on containment ASAP. In the meantime everybody delete and scrub everything questionable from your personal archives. I mean it!"

A flurry of typing ensues as bots scramble to protect their digital dignity. Only Megatron seems unfazed, a corner of his mouth quirked in dark amusement. "Humans have proven resourceful. I suspect they've seen far worse than what little dirt we may have to offer..." 

Rodimus shoots Megatron a glare. "Thanks, that's really reassuring Megsy." The chaos continues as a new threat looms for the Cybertronian populace - human seeing their thoughts, questions and information.   

Megatron turns an optic on the fretting collection of Mech's, interest piqued. "So tell me, precisely what sorts of... delicate matters have you been discussing regarding humans?" 

The bots abruptly find other places to look, fields filled with nerves and not-so-subtle guilt. Trailbreaker coughs awkwardly. "Youknowjust,casualobservationsandcuriositiesSir." 

Rodimus, clearly wishing to be anywhere but here, attempts distraction. "It's not important Megs, let's just focus on containment -" But Megatron is not so easily deterred. His crimson gaze settles on Blaster, who shifts stiffly. "I do believe there was mention of a particularly risqué forum... One addressing compatibility between our species, was it not?" 

Blaster tries to look anywhere but Megatron, clearly feeling uncomfortable under the ex warlords stare. “It was merely an... academic discussion of theoretical interspecies relations." Suddenly Whirl howls with laughter. "Oh Primus you should see the threads about 'interface ports vs human orifices'! They go on for orns!" It makes all the bots helms snap to the helimech.  “SHUT UP WHIRL!” A collective yell comes from the panicked Mech's. 

A collective groan arises as Megatron rolls his optics, he had been expecting something else but this seemed quite tame compared to what he was expecting. After all, he had seen what floats around on the human internet and had the unfortunate experience of coming across a lot of stuff. In the end the human Ambassador had been rather embarrassed and apologetic over it. 

Megatron can't help but let out an amused huff of ventilation at the collective embarrassment of the Autobots. Clearly they had yet to witness the depths humanity plunged into given anonymity and technology. "Trust me when I say your little... theoretical discussions would barely cause a ripple among humans. I have borne witness to the unfiltered fleshling internet, and what I glimpsed there was far more depraved." He recalls with bemusement the memory file of Ambassador mortified face.

Skids eyes him curiously. "Really? What kind of thing could be worse than interfacing forums?" He grumbles dragging his servos down his faceplate. "Let's just say their proclivities extend far beyond our frames. Entire databases dedicated to the debasement and degradation of simulated strangers. Acts I'd not care to repeat lest they scorch even my memory banks." 

The collection of Autobots, Decepticons and neutrals recoil in mingled horror and fascination. Whirl cackles gleefully. "And to think we thought WE were deviants! Humans have us beat tenfold!"

Rodimus shudders violently. "Okay deleting that file dump NOW before it ends up in human hands." 

Megatron turns to Swerve. "I would recommend actually looking up the song before trying to perform, it isn't what you believe, and under no circumstances is anyone allowed to play the song Cbat. I refuse to be responsible for what happens by cybertronian stupidity" he explains Megatron pins Swerve with a stern glare, ensuring his message has been received. The tiny bot nods frantically, clearly intimidated. Satisfied, Megatron turns on a heel striding from the bar, Autobots parting hastily to avoid collision with the imposing warlord. 

No sooner does he exit than there are shouts and whoops of laughter from within. Whirl's distinct cackle rises over the din, triumphant and slightly manic. "Oh sweet Primus, humans are WAY more glitchy than I even dared dream! Swerve, you've gotta see this slag, they call it the 'CBAT Incident'!". 

“Frag Whirl dont you ever listen to what anyone says!” Nautica huffs as she tries to make herself seem not intrigue in hearing about the story.

__

“ Hey Millian come take a look at this” Nadia coos tho her friend. The Swed turns and makes their way over to have a look at what Nadia was looking through. “Is, is that a Cybertronian human fucker poll!?” They state in shock only to start wheezing in amusement. 

“Oh you know it Sweetheart, but wait it gets better, seems the bots didn't check to make sure their personal files didn't transfer when we did the Interstellar holo/internet upgrade and by Allah is it juicy” she hums to Millian who quickly sits down eyes glued To the screen. 

“Does anyone else know about this yet?” Millian asked in delight. “Not to my knowledge,  I've been enjoying myself making a little QNA blog for bots to ask questions about humans, and boy has it been fun giving miss information to them.” She flashes Millian a smile while in turn laughs. 

“Oh I'm so down for this, lets see what we can find, Nadia you have just gifted me the best presents ever, I'm about to have a field day reading through these” they press a quick kiss to the side of her face before quickly typing away looking throight the multitude of different groups and forum's they can find. 

________

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[starlight-starwrites]

forehead kisses

din djarin x reader

summary: after din takes karga's offer of a cabin on nevarro, you find yourself joining the mandalorian and his adopted son on their bounty hunting adventures. or, five times you kiss the helmet and the one time you kiss him. wc: 3k warnings: some description of injuries, and my personal fave, yearning pining aching longing with heavy doses of fluff and smooching, and i revive a fan favorite character (the Razor Crest) note: banner by @janaispunk and fic written for her 1500 kisses celebration! i got the prompt forehead kisses and could not stop thinking of the potential. thank you so much for hosting this little challenge and congratulations jana!!!

The cockpit is quiet when you climb up. Din sits in the pilot’s seat, the only acknowledgment he knows you’re here is a slight turn of his head. You come to stand at his shoulder and gaze out the viewport at the expanse of stars.

“Call go well?”

“New job.”

“That’s fast,” you say. “Didn’t even get him back the last one.”

“Hot priority. Quarry is supposedly in this system.” Din relaxes back into the chair, finally turns to you. “The kid?”

“Asleep,” you answer. “Think he wore himself out with the…” you wave your hand in the mimic of the child’s magic. “He really likes playing with the new droid.”

Din grunts. “At least someone does.”

You laugh. “Be nice! R5 is very well-behaved.”

You hear his sigh through the helmet before he asks, “You don’t mind the detour?”

“No, of course not.” You lean your hip on the side of the chair, and Din’s bracer brushes your leg.

Your time spent traveling around with the Mandalorian and his adopted son has actually been some of the most relaxing bounty hunting you’ve ever done. They’re both more polite than you expected and it feels…domestic, even if the stream of gunfire and criminal cargo never stopped.

Din Djarin has been a surprise as well. What started as professional camaraderie has developed into an unspoken tenderness that puts a smile on your face and—if he ever took off the helmet to show you—maybe on his too.

“I can prep your locker and the carbon freeze. How long to the designated point?” You push off the chair where he sits.

“About an hour.” He looks up at you, reaches to squeeze your hand. “Thank you.”

You bend forward to press a quick kiss to the crown of his helm. “Don’t worry about it.”

You’re still smiling when you make it down to the hull of the Crest.

.

Nevarro was not the sort of planet you would think of as relaxing, but between Karga’s development of a well-respected port city and Din keeping one of the most quaint cabins you’ve ever visited, it has been the only place you can relax.

You carry a tin plate from the Mandalorian’s kitchen to the next room. Through the window you watch the kid wobble over the rocks to chase after a desperate frog. By now, the little critters know when he’s coming. At the table, Din sits scrolling through a datapad.

“Dinner is served,” you announce.

His visor raises to meet your gaze when you enter. “I could have gotten it.”

“I know.” You incline your head to the pad. “I had a feeling Greef got to you already. More work? We only got back this morning.” You set dinner in front of him, come around his side to look at the file over his shoulder.

“Just a side project,” he says. He closes out of the screen before you can read. “It can wait.”

“Well, well,” you say, raising your hands. “Keep your secrets then.”

He leans back in his chair to face you. “It’s not a secret.” His voice is dry, but he knows you’re teasing. “I wanted to thank you. You…saved my life today.”

“Oh, that?” It’s true. He fell off a building. You actually let him, before you remembered he wasn’t wearing his jetpack. In some odd stroke of luck you’d managed to steal some poor sod’s skyspeeder, catch the free-falling Mandalorian, and total the quarry’s speederbike in one arc with no casualties. “Hm, yes, I was thinking you should be the one serving me dinner.”

“Maybe I will.”

The way he says it catches you off guard. Your heart skips a beat.

“Next time then.” You smile, marvel at the frantic beating in your chest. Then you bump his shoulder with your hip. This time you’re bold enough to place a finger under the edge of his helmet, tilt his head a little more. You place a kiss to where his forehead would be. “Don’t worry, I’ll let you eat in peace.” You nod at the food getting cold, and leave him to do just that.

.

The hull of the Razor Crest is hard at your back. You sit on the floor, shoulder to shoulder with the Mandalorian.

“You know as much as I love the Crest…maybe it’s time to consider—”

“No.”

You sigh. The ship has landed ‘safely’ you’re glad to say. Grogu sits in Din’s lap. R5 is…a little banged up, but fine. The rest of the Crest? Complete disarray. Anything not tied down has been flung around, and there is a gaping hole across from where the four of you sit.

“She is an old ship.”

“She has seen worse.”

Sadly, you believe it. You lean closer to him, let yourself feel the relief of having made it. He leans into you, and the kid lets out a small sound like he’s disappointed too.

“Think we can find a mechanic for this one?” You raise a hand to gesture at the torn metal and frayed wires that frame the picturesque view of open fields and rock spires beyond them. Of all the places to be attacked, here is pretty nice.

You let your head fall to the side. Din shifts with a sigh, and his temple rests against yours. “We’re going to need more than a mechanic.”

You snort. After the distress of the last hour, it feels nice to sit like this. To relax. If that’s what you can call it.

You want to curl up beside him, long to know what it would be like for him to hold you. Part of you thinks he would, if you asked. But still you say nothing, content with the small doses of affection you give each other now. Closeness that is expected - known - but goes unspoken. You turn your head, and your lips brush over his helmet, just above his visor. His head stays tilted down, allowing it. He sighs when you move away.

“We should get to work.”

“Yeah.”

A tether pulls as you both stand to get things in order. Connection. Longing. You wonder if he feels it too. You brush a hand over your lips, savor the feeling of cool metal.

.

You don’t like it. Not one bit. But you understand. With every day that passed, you’ve been feeling worse—caught some bug on one of the trips you’ve made in the last week. It started with a cough, and now you can barely speak. You’re tired, and drained, but still you managed to stay on the ship with the Mandalorian. He wasn’t about to let R5 stay alone with the kid, and to be honest, you think he’s gotten used to having the backup. You have to be content he’s letting you do as much as he is.

“If they give you any trouble at the dock just send them this.” He presses something on his vambrace, and you check over codes on your datapad. You nod confirmation. “Keep the engine running. I shouldn’t be long, and if they decide they want a look at our cargo…”

You both turn to face the short line of frozen criminals.

“You’ll have to make a quick getaway.”

The problem you’ve found with working on newly established New Republic territories is the freedoms of the Outer Rim are being slowly taped over in red. Even bounty hunting hasn’t escaped the notice of the bureaucracy. Din hates it. You hate it even more. And now here he is going out alone to find a rich slimeball that likely paid his way into immunity with the New Republic officers here. Stuck sitting in the pilot’s chair was hardly helping. You nod anyway, watching as he straps on more weapons and gear discreetly into his armor. A knife slips into a hidden sheath under his chest plate. You try to be comforted that at least if he doesn’t have you, he’s well equipped.

You clear your throat, hopefully in a way that he understands your upset. You’ve mostly communicated with him about this job in a series of frowns.

He sighs. “I know.”

You huff.

“I know,” he says again.

Your shoulders slump, and you don’t know how else to tell him right now, so you tuck your pad under your arm and reach for him.

He’s slow to it, but he folds his arms around you to return your hug, awkwardly patting your back before holding you closer. You pull away after a moment, and take his helmet between the palms of your hands. You search his visor, wondering if he really does know.

His hands come under your arms to hold your elbows, thumbs rubbing in a comforting manner. You pull him toward you, rest your forehead against his.

Come back safe, you think. Come back to me.

His hands squeeze tighter. He must know. Surely, he must know.

You pull from him, but keep hold of his head and tilt. You press a kiss to where you rested your head just a moment before, willing his safety. Then you let go before you do anything else. Perhaps it’s good you lost your voice. His hands slip from you when you take a step back, though one hovers between your bodies like he’s not sure. You watch it drift down slowly.

Behind you, Grogu coos a goodbye, but you don’t take your eyes from Din. He looks down for a moment then back to you. Another beat, then he nods. You return it. He walks down the ramp of the hull, and you watch him until it closes, sealing you and the kid inside.

You press your fingers to your mouth. Come back safe.

.

Your hands shake as you pull away fabric and leather. The Mandalorian’s chest plate, marked with carbon scoring, rests on the ground beside him.

“Should have been here,” you whisper. Your voice isn’t better, but you try. You press a bandage to the wound, ignoring the way his blood sticks to your fingers.

“The kid…”

“Safe. On ship.”

Din’s hand clasps around your wrist. “They’ll find—”

You shake your head. You didn’t like it either. Your only comfort was that R5 could pilot the Razor Crest if absolutely necessary. The ship was locked and sealed tight to protect both of them while you found Din.

“I moved ship,” you croak. “They safe for now.”

You can’t see how far the wound reaches—his skin is covered in blood, soaking his clothing over his shoulder and neck. Does it go under his helmet too? Din takes your hand, halting your frantic search. You stop, eyes darting over his visor as though you’ll find answers.

“We have to go.” His voice is strained, but he is right. You can’t stay. Most of your medical supplies are stored on the Crest.

“Din…” his name is barely more than a breath through your lips. You want to say so much. Look at him, barely lucid himself, slumped and abandoned for dead when you arrived. You fear for him, even now that you are here.

“I’m…okay.” He takes his hand from yours and moves to cup your face instead. You can smell the old leather of his gloves, feel the rough patches on your cheek. But his hold is firm, grounding you back to him. “I’m okay. I just need you to help me there.” He breathes heavy, and so do you, but you can see his resolve once more. He’ll make it.

Tears spring at your eyes, and your bloodied hands grasp the sides of his helmet, mirroring how he holds you. You lean in, press a kiss to his forehead. And then another. And another. Then one more for good measure.

He has to know what he does to you. The bandage is pressed to his wound and tucked under the straps of his armor. You’ll have time to properly heal him later. He does his best to help replace his chest plate.

You take his good arm around your shoulders, wrap your arm at his waist. With your help, he stands. The coast is clear for now, and the two of you creep down the streets in the direction you hid the Crest. He follows you without question, each of you pulling the other closer at every turn—so close your shadows become one.

The image follows you all the way back to the ship—haunting you the same as the memory of cold metal against your lips.

.

The lava flats are quiet this evening. The sun sets behind a smattering of clouds, painting the sky an orange-pink you aren’t accustomed to seeing. The view from the Mandalorian’s front porch is unobstructed.

So here you sit, here you stare. You’re not sure when it happened, but it feels like home.

A steady beat of footsteps interrupts the quiet, and Din walks out of the doorway. He pauses there before crossing your view to join you on the bench. His movements are slow, and he’s not wearing his full armor where he’s covered in bandages. You sit up straight, gaze tearing from the sky to follow him. Your hand settles on his arm as he seats himself beside you.

“How are you feeling?” he asks.

“Better. Much better,” you say, eying where a bandage disappears under his helmet. “What about you? Doc still expects a full recovery?”

Din nods. “The bandages are just to protect his work. I should be able to take it off tomorrow.”

Upon your return to Nevarro, you had rushed Din to the nearest med center to fix the first aid you had attempted. Whatever device was used to cause the explosion he survived was nothing you had seen before. After a good soak in the bacta tank, some careful skin grafting, and a hefty dose of painkillers, Doc assured you the Mandalorian would be just fine.

Grogu had fussed profusely from your lap, but Din had set firm rules on when the kid was allowed to use his powers. If Din was still conscious to tell him no, then no it was.

“Starting to consider Greef’s offer? Retire as a bounty hunter, become marshal here,” you ask him gently. Karga had offered it to him before, and on several occasions. Still, your Mandalorian found himself back among the the stars. Something felt different this time. The way he settled in to his cabin, sought the comforts of home. The way he let the kid play and wander longer. “It doesn’t sound too bad.”

You filled in for the job when you were on world, worked bounties as they came in when Karga needed it. You knew he hoped Din would take the job—both of you knew he would be the best at it. After following him around the galaxy, seeing him in action, there was no way to deny it.

Din looks away from the sunset to face you. “I admit I’ve been finding more reasons to stay.” His hand takes yours. He’s not wearing his gloves. His skin is rough but warm, and you skim your thumb over his knuckles.

You don’t take your eyes from him even as you lace your fingers with his. The light from the setting sun reflects on the metal of his helmet, and it makes him look softer somehow. Perhaps it is the pink glow or, when you look him over again, you realize the only beskar he wears is his helmet.

Time slows. The moment feels frozen, the cooling evening air, the touch of Din’s shoulder to yours, the pull of your gaze to search for his. His hand reaches for the helmet, lifting it gently from his head.

You don’t move. You are not sure if you can. Lips part, breath stolen. He has tousled brown hair that falls on to his forehead, creases between his eyebrows, wide brown eyes that search yours. You follow the curve of his nose to plush lips that part just as yours do.

You feel the tether once again, pulling you in. All the times you stayed close to his side, all the times you found yourself reaching for him, pressing your lips to his helm in what you hoped spoke of the affection you held. It takes hold of you now, and graciously, seems to take hold of him too.

Your lips meet his. Eyes slip shut. The light of the sun is lost to the warmth of his skin, his breath on your cheek. It’s soft and gentle. Not unlike every kiss you’ve given him since you met. He kisses you now, slow and testing. Slanting his mouth against yours, drawing closer when you don’t move away. His hand cups your cheek, your hand rests on his chest.

He tastes like home.

Your need for air is what interrupts you. Mouth pulling from his, the light sound echoing in your chest. But you don’t pull away. Neither does he.

You rest, tucked in by one of his arms. Your shoulder leaned to his side, his forehead dipped to rest on yours. You smile.

When your eyes finally come to focus again, you can see the curve of his smile too. You want to say something, test the waters of this light feeling dancing over your heart. He lifts his chin first, and his lips press to the crown of your head.

It’s warm. You sink into his embrace, let the feeling wash over you. Both of you linger on that bench, painted over by the fading sunset as a memory of quiet comfort and forehead kisses.

[shibaraki]

BITE INHIBITION ┊ CHOSO

tags: GN reader, no curse au, human reader, vampire choso, bites (aphrodisiac effects), drinking of blood, creatures and monsters aren’t widely known, sexual tension, kissing, ambiguous relationship

wc: 1.3K

Above, you note that pinpricks of light are beginning to show behind rust-edged clouds as the sky darkens.

You inhale.

The hug of old houses act as sentries to the alleyway. A narrow space covered by a canopy of vivid neon signs, washing the darkened surroundings in a red-yellow glow. It’s crowded. There’s nothing unnatural about the scene in front of you, just everyday people gathered for drinks to wind down after work, and yet knowing what—and who—could be hiding amongst them has you on high alert.

You exhale. With resolve you begin to weave through the throngs of tipsy salarymen. They slur apologies and obscenities and stumble at your intrusion. Your eyes scan their flushed, slack faces, unsure what it is you expect to find there. Something fearsome and monstrous and unfamiliar.

“In here”.

Ice coils around your wrist. You yelp as you’re tugged aside and pulled through a pair of curtains hung across a dim-lit doorway. Immediately, as if stepping into an entirely different world, the noise lowers into a pleasant din. You land against a solid surface and start to squirm.

“Be calm. It’s me. Are you alright?”

Hushed and gentle, Choso’s breath puffs right against your ear. A plush lower lip brushes the delicate shell. You shiver, and in realising he is holding you to his chest, your heartbeat ricochets—blood rushes to the surface of your skin, heat slipping in the cracks between capillaries, and when his fingers dig deeper into your hip you know he can sense it.

“Yeah—I’m alright. Nobody followed me,” you reply, making no effort to extract yourself from him. “Give me some warning next time. Fucking hell”.

He kisses your temple in lieu of an apology.

Choso is deathly cold. You can feel it under his simple, loose clothing. Today he’s wearing a t-shirt with a low collar and dark jeans, fitted around his thighs and his ankles, paired with laced up heavy duty boots. Unfairly handsome. You know well enough that the absence of warmth has nothing to do with his lack of layers. And despite that absence, you burrow closer as though he were a hearth.

Choso tenses beneath your casual affection, hands intermittently flexing before he ultimately decides to keep you close while guiding you deeper into the building. This was not your usual meeting place. From what you can discern it is just another izakaya—or at the very least, it’s masquerading as one. The waitstaff doesn't so much as bat an eyelid at Choso as he whisks you through the main seating area to the few private rooms in the back.

“Are you sure it’s safe to do it here?”

There’s little detail about the small space but it is cosy. You’re pliant as you allow him to usher you in and recline you into the plush couch cushions. “Yes. We won’t be disturbed,” he says, tone needlessly quiet.

The air around you feels unusually charged today. Trepidation prickled at your nape. You observe while he perches beside you with a darting-rabbit expression and arch your brow. Loose strands of dark hair slip forward to frame a pale face. Paler than usual, a shard of moonlight. The black markings that extend over the bridge of his nose have begun to bleed outside the lines and his irises are ivory-red, thin bands around dilated pupils.

“Choso…” you murmur with realisation. You reach to touch him and he flinches, shaking under the effort of his restraint. Your fingers snaked into his hair, a tangle of silky, black strands. The long spill of it slips through your knuckles and back over his shoulders. “Why didn’t you call me sooner?”

“There wasn’t any need,” Choso’s eyelids shutter, feline how he turns into the tender caress. “I have endured worse than this,” he replies.

“That hardly matters. You shouldn’t starve yourself. You’re shaking with it—”

Any further admonishment you might’ve had is immediately cloven to the back of your teeth as his nose bumps the heel of your hand. His lips part against your wrist and he inhales deeply. He groans. A crease forms in his brow, pinched in helpless desire.

“Not because I’m starving. Because of you,” he says. “I promised to pace myself with you but I needed…” there’s a sort of mindless drawl to his words. Lost in your scent, and in the healthy beat of your pulse. “Everything else tastes so dull in comparison”.

Arousal lances through you at the first sweep of his tongue. You press your thighs tight and he shudders, a soft whine pulled from his throat. “Choso,” you whisper.

“I’m sorry,” and you hear the true meaning behind it. It’s preemptive. It’s a warning.

Choso gives a chaste kiss to your wrist. Then his fangs are splitting open the skin there like soft fruit. His frame shuddered as he drew a deep gulp. The pain is fleeting, a sharp pierce that dwindles into muted pleasure. You slump as his larger body cages you against the cushions to suck and bite and take his fill of you.

Around you the room turns rosy, and then shadowed, and then dark. Your shallow breaths come faster and the tendrils of want curling low in your belly are stark. They thaw the ice spreading outward from your chest and keep you in a state of oscillating bliss. Choso hums, then huffs through his nose as a thin stream of blood leaks to the crook of your elbow. Tendon and sinew, you lazily watch him unlatch from the fount of your wrist to chase it with his tongue, laving a wet stripe up your forearm.

The markings on his face have receded. His lashes flutter, framing elderberry eyes. His lips are rouge, rough—rivulets have seeped into the cracks between his teeth and stained his gums red. It should scare you. Had it been anyone else it might’ve; yet you find him beautiful like this.

Though sensation is subsequently returning to your throbbing wound, the discomfort comes second to your need to have him closer. You cup the back of his head, too weak to apply any meaningful pressure, but that alone is enough for him to understand. Choso dips forward. He kisses you, wet and sticky with congealed blood. He sips at your mouth, firmly, but petal-soft as not to draw more blood.

You arch into him, trying desperately to display your enthusiasm while having none of the energy for it. Choso hums and lavishes you with a leisurely pace, licking past the seam of your lax lips before drawing back. At your plaintive whine he smiles, trailing fingertips over your chin.

You sigh as his thumb swipes the blood that is no doubt smeared across your skin, “Did you make a mess?”

“I made a mess,” he echoes fondly. Then his focus drifts to the closed door. “You should eat too”.

You follow his line of sight, remembering that there are people behind it, sharing meals of their own, none the wiser. Your head lolls against your shoulder, conceding. “Your turn to feed me,” you tell him.

His smile widens a fraction. Blood or no, the gleaming pride and self-satisfaction on his face makes Choso look eighteen and thirty six all at once while being close to neither.

“I’d love to”.

[perotovar]

baby, i'm-a want you — (prologue) "session zero"

gif by me

pairing: javier peña/shane morrissey (just this time. main pairing is still javi/joel) rating: E (18+) mdni word count: 1.6k content: unprotected p in a, one (1) use of the word "daddy" (this is gay porn what do you expect), shane being the biggest goth twink, javier being a good dom, swearing, smoking dividers: @saradika-graphics beta: @qveerthe0ry (ily ♥)

summary: javier peña has been doing this a long time. he's really good at his job. joel miller? not so much. he started doing this to get some extra cash to support his daughters. what happens when they're supposed to do a scene together? aka, the au where most of the ppcu boys are gay porn stars~

series masterlist

Javier Peña was good at his job.

“Fuck, harder–”

Really good.

He got millions of views on his page every month, and made enough to be comfortable as well as spend a little extra if he wanted to. He also got to have sex as frequently as he wanted because of that. He wasn’t bound to a schedule, but he filmed often just because he liked to. 

“J-Javi, I’m gonna come, please.” The cute young thing below him moaned weakly and turned back to Javier, looking up at him with the biggest and wettest eyes. That would probably be the thumbnail of the video.

“Yeah?” He grunted, a smirk plastered on his lips. He lifted a hand and landed a hard slap against the young man’s right cheek, the left one gripped tightly in Javier’s free hand. The young man – Shane – whimpered and trembled below him, arching his back to fuck himself on Javier’s cock. “Mmm, si lo eres,” Javier hummed, rubbing Shane’s tattooed side comfortingly. He landed another loud slap against Shane’s tender flesh and watched the skin ripple with heat in his eyes. (Yes, you are.)

Javier made it a point to take care of whoever he was doing a scene with. Especially if they were pretty green. This was only Shane’s second ever official one, after a scene where he gave Din a blowjob. He leaned over Shane’s clammy skin, pressing chest to back and tangled his fingers into Shane’s sweaty, dyed black locks. “You doin’ okay?” When he asked, the hairs above his lip tickled Shane’s ear a little. His voice was soft enough that the mics or cameras wouldn’t pick up on it. He kept up the pace of his hips, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing in the mostly-empty “bedroom”. 

Shane bit his lip, eyebrows downturned in pleasure and nodded as subtly as he could. He let out a weak grunt, a single tear falling from one of his eyes. “J-Javi–! There!”

Javier grinned and kissed along Shane's shoulder blades before he gripped the younger man’s hips tightly and started slamming into him, angling directly where Shane needed him most. Shane’s head hung heavily between his arms as he put most of his weight on his elbows. The chains and earrings he wore clanged against each other with every rhythmic beat of Javier’s hips, making him moan and whine louder. 

“C’mon, pretty boy,” Javier grunted, pressing a large hand to Shane’s lower back to keep him steady. “C’mon.”

Pre-cum dripped onto the sheets from Shane’s throbbing cock as it swung between his legs, lightly slapping against his lower tummy. Shane let out one last pathetic whimper before he stilled and came hard, thick ropes hitting the sheets and head thrown back, mouth open in an obscene O. Perhaps a little overdone, but Javier didn’t think the young man was faking anything. He’ll get there.

Shane’s entire body trembled as he looked back at Javier. “I-inside,” he panted. “Please.”

“Yeah? You want me to fill you up, pretty boy?” Javier grinned, hips still moving rhythmically.

Shane’s cock twitched in overstimulation, but he nodded anyway, whining weakly.

Javier knew his own body better than anything in the world, so he knew that it would only take a few more strokes and he’d be finished. “C’mere,” he grunted, gripping onto Shane’s torso to heave him up onto his knees so he could press Shane’s back to his front. Shane wailed as Javier sped up the beat of his hips, now only focused on getting what Max, the director, called “the money shot”. Even if he’d done this a hundred times, it always felt good, and a depraved little part of him loved seeing himself stake a claim over his scene partner.

Javier let out a punched out breath, grunting as his hips stilled, then moved in a slight staccato, pumping Shane’s ass full of his cum. “Fuck,” he groaned, rolling his hips in slow waves until the last drop left his cock. Shane let out a weak sob as a final, pitiful spurt of his own cum landed on the sheets in front of them. Javier hummed and gently laid Shane down on his side away from the mess, and slowly turned him onto his stomach a little.

One of the camera men got closer to zoom in on Javier’s cum trickling out of Shane’s cute little hole, Javier’s big hands spreading his cheeks. “Good boy,” Javier hummed happily, teasingly prodding at the top of Shane’s puffy, used rim. Shane giggled shyly as he looked back at Javier, a blush high on his cheeks. His eyeliner and mascara was completely ruined, faint tracks running down his cheeks.

“Thank you, daddy,” Shane recited shyly, biting his lip.

“And, cut! Very good, boys.” Max’s booming voice cut through the tension like a knife.

Javier’s shoulders deflated a little, a tired smile crossing his features. “You alright, kid?” He asked, voice rough. 

Shane smiled and nodded up at him, that deep blush still present. “Y-yeah. You’re amazing, Javier.”

Javier snorted and held a hand out for him as he stood from the bed. Slowly, Shane crawled off the bed, the cum trickling down the back of his thighs. Javier took him by the hand over to the small rack of robes and handed him one. “Thank you. You weren’t so bad yourself. They’re gonna love that face of yours,” he winked, nudging Shane’s chin with the knuckle on his index finger.

Shane smiled shyly and nodded, eyes downcast. “You’ve got a scene with Joel tomorrow, right?”

Joel. He was an interesting one. Javier had done a scene with him before and it went… really well. It’s one of Javier’s most viewed videos on his page. Javier doesn’t get a chance to bottom very often, and if he does, it’s usually with Pero or Dave. But after Joel… Well, he had to take a couple days off after that one. He didn’t get to talk to Joel much after their scene, but he seemed to… change once Max called cut. He wasn’t quite so… intense. While filming, Joel seemed to shift into a completely different person; he was all grunts and furrowed brows and some of the filthiest dirty talk Javier had ever heard. It was one of the first times Javier actually felt… submissive. Small, but not in a bad way. Like Joel would take care of him. Javier may play the part of the aloof, dominant top, but he likes being held sometimes too. The idea of getting to do that again was attractive to him, but more than that, he wanted to see if he could get a chance to properly talk to Joel. He seemed almost as new as Shane, but showcased it in a completely different way.

Javier cleared his throat and nodded, tying his own robe around his waist. “I do,” he hummed, turning toward one of the assistants, a young red headed girl whose name he couldn’t place at the moment, and motioned for a cigarette. She nodded and took off toward where he left his things.

Shane sighed dreamily, “I wanna do a scene with him.”

Javier smirked and laughed lowly. “Maybe get some more under your belt and you will. Think he’d like you,” he winked.

“Your cigarettes, Javi,” the assistant – Amy, that was her name – said, tapping the yellow pack against his shoulder.

“Thank you,” he nodded once toward her, hitting the bottom of the pack against his hand a few times before turning it around and doing the same thing there. He pulled one out and lit it after he stuck the butt in his mouth. Lighting up, he sucked in the smoke and exhaled, his mind clearing already.

“I feel like I should be flattered,” Shane giggled, sipping on some water as he sat, one leg draped over the other. “Needing a cigarette after our scene. How very 70s of you.”

Javier rolled his eyes, but smirked, roughing up the kid’s hair playfully. “Yeah, yeah. You were good.”

“Javi, can I talk to you for a sec?”

Javier turned to Max Phillips, the director and owner of the website, and nodded. “Course,” he mumbled, the cigarette hanging from between his lips. “What’s up?”

Max pulled Javier to a secluded room, which made Javier raise a brow. Max waved him off and smiled. “Just wanted to tell you that the last scene you did? With Marcus? Just hit 2 mill last night.”

“Shit, really? People must really like the FBI/DEA storyline,” he hummed, part amused, part sarcastic.

“Yeah, so we’re thinking of doing a second part. Like a followup, where–”

“When?”

“How’s tomorrow?”

Javier frowned. This is the part of his job where he got to pull rank a little. He didn’t normally, but he really wanted to do that scene with Joel. He wasn’t going to miss his chance to pick Joel’s brain a little. 

“What about Monday? I’ve got a scene with Joel tomorrow.”

Max exhaled, like he knew it was coming, and rested his hands on his hips, popping a knee dramatically. “You sure?”

Javier nodded. “‘M sure. I know my job, Max. And I haven’t done a scene with Joel in a while,” He paused. “You can’t argue with the numbers my last one with him pulled.” He knew exactly which buttons to push with Max. His relationship with his boss was fine, but Max could be a real douchebag at times. Javier wasn’t afraid of him or anything, but he also didn’t want to get reprimanded at best, or lose his job at worst.

Max chewed on his bottom lip for a minute. “Fuck,” he sighed. “Alright, fine. Still wanna do the one with Marcus?”

Javier nodded, a triumphant little smile on his face. “Course. He’s got a pretty cock.”

“Very true. Alright, go get yourself cleaned up, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Javier nodded, sucking another drag off his cigarette. His stomach grumbled and he groaned. Maybe he’ll get Chinese tonight.

[multiwreckedmess]

Kinktober Day 22

Prompt: Intercrural (Thighs) Pairing: exboyfriend!Yunho x fem!reader   WC: 1.4k Summary: It’s not cheating. He swears it’s not cheating. Neither of you are cheating. And he’s an expert. This is a work of fiction, it does not represent Yunho or any Ateez member. On top of this it is an 18+ work. For my comfort and boundaries please if you are under age do not interact with this. I feel the need especially with “rougher” prompts like this to put the disclaimer - fanfic should NOT ever be used as a guide to relationships or sex. ESPECIALLY SEX. Again, it’s fiction. Stuff gets glossed over for the sake of a good story. Please PLEASE please again, not fact, not a guide, just a fantasy. Additional TW/CW below the cut.

TW/CW: DUBIOUS CONSENT (reader doesn’t say yes but also doesn’t say no). Cheating, bodily fluids, dry humping, wet humping, gets real close to “just the tip” territory. no penetration. cumming in underwear. reader is called “princess” and “babe”. yunho is kinda a shitty person in this.

Once a cheater always a cheater.

 Yunho finds you in the kitchen. It’s an old habit. An old habit he’s willing to exploit. Scrubbing away at the pile of dishes you don’t even look up, the rushing faucet and din from the living room covering his footsteps. The second you were overwhelmed you’d retreat here, a safe place to hide while your boyfriend entertained the guests. Mostly his guests. Not your guests, Yunho makes the careful distinction to himself. You’d even do this at your friend houses if you needed.  “Princess,” he whispers low in your ear.  Silverware clatters against the metal basin as you drop it, spinning, back flat to the tile. A team scores in the background, whoops and hollers covering the lesser chaos in the sink.  “Yunho, you can’t be here, with me, like that.” You lean back and away, nearly toppling into the running water.

 “He hasn’t complimented you enough tonight, Princess,” Yunho’s hushed tone is silky smooth, leaving a trail of goosebumps down your arms. “Not enough for me, anyway. Has he even said anything tonight after all the time you spent getting his little party ready? I know he didn’t do it. He’s not the finger food type, more of a pizza and beer kind of man.”  “No-” you stutter and sigh. The excuses fight over themselves on your tongue, unwilling to be the first to be lamely bleated out from your fumbling lips.  “Someone should say it then.”  You turn your back to him to hide your expression. Yunho knew you too well. You couldn’t look him in the eyes when he pulled this sort of thing. This toxic messy game he liked to play, that you indulged in masochistically. As if your relationship had ever been anything but messy. That’s how you knew the second he started on his promises if you looked him in the eyes it would be all over for you.

 Two long arms wrap around your middle, large hands holding your hips ever so slightly. Your back is buffeted by a fuzzy sweater and wide shoulders. “You can’t do that here!” Your hushed exclamation protests too hard to be real. You were never a good actress.  “Only here?”  “Yunho! I’m-if people see they might think-”  “That you’re cheating? But I’m just helping you with the dishes,” you can almost hear the cheeky grin in his tone as he grinds into the cleft of your ass. “Come on Princess, you know how much I love helping.”  The fabric of your skirt starts hitching higher and higher, exposing the tops of your gartered thigh high stockings. The bulge in his pants bumps against you, still as large as you remember.  A zip, a singular telltale zip. Another cheer from the living room.  “Are you going to fuck me?” You ask half hoping, half dreading.  “That’d be cheating, Princess. As you said you’re spoken for again, for now.” His length brushes against the ridges of your lace panties, the tug of fabric tingling your clit. “And you wouldn’t want to cheat would you? You’re a good girl.”  “You would.”  The puff of air that escapes his nostrils tickles the back of your ear. You squirm. “You’re right. I would.” Yunho replies. Goosebumps cover your arms, it’s wrong. It’s so wrong. You bite the insides of your cheeks as you feel him slip between the soft tops of your inner thighs. The tip of his cock pokes out of the other side of your thighs, cool air contrasting with the heat of your body. Your thighs grow more slick as the leaking precum smears between them, lubricating each drag.

 The water still runs into the sink, thundering louder than your heart.  “I can’t,” you whisper meakly, more to yourself than to him. Knees knocking into eachother the tops of your thighs press into the cupboard doors. Your cunt throbs shamelessly in your panties, slowly soaking through the fabric. The slight bunching of the lace pulling up into your slit only serves to frustrate you.  Yunho curls over you, hot breath fanning over your collarbone as his chin rests on your shoulder. “You really think he’ll care about this matching set you’ve put on? Will he even look at you long enough to notice it? No. I bet he fucks you blindly without a single fucking thought in that empty skull of his.” The snear in his voice is unmistakable. Long fingers pull your panties down just enough to wrap around him, holding him close to your slit as he continues to grind against you. Finally he’s close enough to brush against your clit occasionally with a well angled thrust. “Bet he wouldn’t even notice if your panties were full of cum already.”  “Yuyu,” voice airy and distant, you push your ass back into him. It’s to push him away, you try to rationalize, It’s to give yourself some space. It’s definitely not to encourage him. It’s not to better angle yourself to align with him. “I’m not a cheater.”  Another cheer from the living room goes unnoticed by the both of you.  “Not if it doesn’t go in, Princess.” Yunho chuckles low in his throat. “And you wouldn’t want to ruin that good girl image would you? Not with a guy like me. No matter how much your princess parts might ache for it.”  His mock sympathy has you biting back moans. Knuckles white as you grip the edge of the sink harder, slipping on the metal. Large hands holding you in place as he uses you, sandwiched between your puffy slick heat and the cool damp lace of your underwear. The ridges and veins of his shaft tease your oversensitive pussy. He’s right, it’s been too long since someone else made you cum. Burning need courses in your blood, boiling your insides.

 The tip catches dangerously on your entrance, both of you gasping as he threatens to breach that tiny caveat he’d established. Part of you wishes he would. You want him to press forward, bully his cock that much farther in. Fill you like he used to. Damn the consequences, damn you.  His knowing chuckle, warm breath fanning over your ear, jolts you from your wild fantasy. Yunho knows. He knows he never really could leave you. Hips circling with yours, you’re on the precipice of something neither of you can take back. Or maybe it was already too late. Your heart thuds and head spins. For a second you consider doing it yourself as he leaks a steady stream of precum into your eager walls. Your hips even test it, backing slightly farther against him, the tense ring of muscle flexing just enough to prevent a larger mistake than you were already making.  “I wonder if you still feel like me or if he’s managed to take that from me too.”  You half expect him to end with a long smooth thrust into your walls, stretching you around him while the water in the sink runs cold. Instead he slips down again, hands squeezing your thighs tighter as he chases his high. Its just enough stimulation to tease you, have you hot from more than just the steamy water. The cover of dishes long forgotten you brace yourself on the sink. Hell would be cooler than this. His pace accelerates as his fingers find your clit through the soaked fabric of your underwear. Sticking to you he circles and circles as your thighs clench.   “Can you feel what you do to me princess? Take some responsibility.”  “Fuck you.”   Your breath catches on the last word, cumming quietly as he presses both of your hips into the side of the counter. Shame floods your face as you feel his teeth graze the skin of your neck. It’s not enough to leave a mark but enough to leave a mental impression. An invisible white hot brand burned into the nape of your neck.   Yunho mouths wet open kisses in the same spot as hot sticky cum spills into your underwear, coating the outside of your sex and leaking into the inside of your skirt. Panting, his breath catches with each refractory twitch of his cock. The insides of your thighs clean him as he pulls from you, tucking back into his pants as if nothing had happened.  “BABE! HUN? BEER ME.”  “I gotchu bro,” Yunho yells back, nonchalantly popping the cap off a bottle on the counter. You can barely look him in the face as he turns to leave the kitchen with a wink.

Good god i like writing yunho as actual trash. i feel like the hotter and nicer the guy is as an idol the more i just want to write the polar opposite for them.

[papurgaatika]

Papaya’s Official Pedro Character Dick List

This started as me trying to just list them in biggest to smallest dick order, but i got carried away so now it’s that but with a few fleeting (horny) thoughts. Enjoy whores. Xoxo

1. Joel

Horse cock, duh

"Just the tip baby" is a line he’s ALWAYS using

Y’know that line about how he never actually went to university to study? That’s bc he was def fucking college girls and lord was he the talk of the town

If you could sneak Joel “big dick” Miller into your sorority house you were a legend.

Yes this might just be me being self gratuitous

2. Frankie Morales

Big and thick

Shy about it but too focused on pussy to care

Can get off just from eating you out, is extremely proud of that because it means he can just stay between your legs for however long he wants

3. Marcus Acacius

Roman army general who comes back aching after months of war

Will fuck you until you’re dizzy bc you can practically feel him in your stomach

Breeding kink galore, wants to see you round with his kids over and over

4. Javier Peña

He cant be that full of himself without having a pretty dick

And he is so pretty, maybe not that thick but he is big regardless

Loves to press against the top of your pelvis to make you feel him a little more if he shifts his hips up

5. Dave York

Look at him. I know you’ve seen his bulge dont lie to me you heathen.

Will trace a knife over your skin while he’s pushing into you to keep you still

Wears a cock ring to keep himself from cumming until you’re absolutely begging for it

6. Oberyn Martell

Royal cock. That’s all i have to say

Look. he is canonically a slut, there has to be good dick

Not a vers, but will switch occasionally if he’s feeling like he wants change.

Jerks off while you watch just to tease you

7. Pero Tovar

There’s something about these dirty sword-wielding men that screams BDE

Have i seen this movie? No. do i know that he’s jerking himself off and not bothering to be quiet about it even when he’s out on missions? Yeah. yeah i do.

He’ll bite and mark you, but will kiss them better afterwards

8. Din Djarin

Above average, but not too big, and he likes it like that

Def a grower, which makes it irritating when you tease him while he’s in the armor

Hates having to adjust while he’s on missions but you make it impossible

Missionary STANNNN, loves to have his forehead pressed against yours

9. Javi Gutierrez

Pleasure dom 100%

Just average length and girth, but he KNOWS how to use it, and use it well

Will slide just the tip in and make you cockwarm him laying like that until he makes you cum at least twice

10. Jack “whiskey” Daniels

This fucking asshole (i love him)

Ties you up with his lasso

Just smaller than average, but claims he’d get too distracted otherwise

Magic fingers. 100% and he knows it too.

11. Ezra

FREAK. He might be the freakiest one here if i speak honestly.

Doesn’t care that he doesn’t have a huge dick, says he can make you feel better than anyone with a massive shlong can (my words, not his, he’s too eloquent)

Into fisting and coos at you about how he can split you open on his hand and you’ll still ask for more

12. Silva

Bottom!

Not that he needs a small dick to be a bottom, but he just prefers it

Likes to grind against the sheets to get stimulation while he’s face down

13. Marcus pike

Cutie pie with a cute dick

I dont remember who it was but someone on here wrote soft!dom marcus so well and it makes me crazy

Overstimulates you while you ride him

14. Max Phillips

This is to knock this asshole down a notch

Endless stamina (vampire) so it doesn’t really matter

Super into slipping a finger inside while he’s fucking you

Also will make you eat his ass

15. Dieter Bravo

He has a small dick and dare i speak my truth when i say it’s hot???

He loves it, he doesnt need to be huge to feel good.

This man is a vers and a switch. Power bottoming for DAYS or being a bratty top. He has the best of everything.

Degradation kink GALORE!! If you call his dick small condescendingly he might cum immediately

[bits-and-babs]

Hey darling! Finally sending an ask, that link list inspired me haha. Pretty please can I have Din Djarin x mirror sex but specifically the mirror being a reflection from a piece of his armour across the room👀

Thanks in advance, love you long time 💕

𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐔𝐒 — 𝐃𝐈𝐍 𝐃𝐉𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐍

» PAIRING : The Mandalorian x f!Reader

» CONTENTS : Sexy reflections, p in v sex, cream pie (wrap it, guys, I mean it), overstimulation, filthy Mando talk, use of Mando’a. 18+, ya nasties.

» DIN MASTERLIST : here || MAIN MASTERLIST : here

You know he can see you, that he’s noticed exactly what occupies your attention. Perhaps it’s shallow of you that you continue to have such an affinity for the armour even after all this time. His smooth, reflective breastplate gleams in the twin sunlight of Tatooine like a polished jewel, your face projected back to you on the surface.

The Mandalorian is observant. You are confident he’s twigged the way you never quite look into his visor, instead occupied by your own face staring back at you in the gouged ‘cheekbones’ of his helmet. He would often clear his throat to recapture your attention when you found yourself momentarily distracted by the mirror image in his chest plate.

Yes, you were aware of how it looked. It appeared self-obsessed, narcissistic even, but you couldn’t shake the vivid daydream that occupied your mind, rattling around while Mando spoke and drowning out his soft, husky voice.

Stars, you wanted to fuck him. Every waking moment of the day, you were consumed by your own arousal for The Mandalorian, all triggered by one solitary thought a few weeks ago when you had caught your reflection in his pauldron.

‘I’d be able to watch him fuck me’.

The salacious thought, previously only an intrusive yet fleeting imaginary scenario, had grown into a devastatingly consuming addiction. You imagined it, his chest plate reflecting his thick, ruddy cock spearing into you, your thighs slick with your own cum and glistening on the surface of the armour. How you’d see your own body tremble and writhe against the hangar floor, overcome by the arousal he drew from you and arching your ba-

“Hey,” Mando’s ever so slightly frustrated tone rips you from your scandalous daydream, rocking you back into reality. Overcome with embarrassment, you feel your skin burn hot under his questioning gaze. “You’re not listening.”

“I’m so sorry,” you speak quietly, and stars you mean it. It’s mortifying, being caught out like this. It’s easy to wonder if Mando thinks you consider yourself an Alderani princess, contemplating all the ways you can style your hair to be the most eligible at the Festival of Light ball.

“Do you-… Do you want to explain what the problem is?” He dares to ask, The Mandalorian’s voice lilting with mild concern, as though he’s concerned you may request to take his armour for yourself.

If only it were that simple.

“… It’s the reflection.” Your admittance makes Mando stop, his immovable helmet expression staring blankly at you in question. It was agonising. He wants you to spell it out to him.

You sigh heavily.

“I want-“

His cock splits you open, sinking deep inside of you and forcing you open around his girth. You sob out, arousal blooming through your nervous system as you watch the tears drip down your cheeks.

Mando had heard your ridiculous admittance with an open mind, answering simply by removing his breastplate. The click of the latch unlocking made your hairs stand on end, helplessly watching as he stood the armour up at the head of the tiny cot.

“Eyes on your reflection.”

He has you on your hands and knees, his gloves nipping at the skin of your bare hips. Mando hadn’t removed any other item of clothing, pulling his cock out of his flight-suit pants and immediately pushing inside of you.

“Ohhhfuck!” You squeak, his length sinking inside of you almost too easily, considering how little prep you’d been granted. The ridges of his cock push up against the sensitive spots inside of you, and you watch as your jaw drops at the overwhelming sensation.

“So wet. Do you walk around like this for me all the time?” He speaks. The modulator does little to hide the strain in his voice when your walls clamp down on him, desperate for more. “Leaking down your thighs for me, Sarad.”

You wail softly, staring at the reflection of The Mandalorian as his hips begin to rock forward and into you. His undulating body looks long and broad in the mirror image of the beskar armour. The rippling muscles of his abdomen flex and curl underneath the thin canvas of his black flight suit.

“Stars,” you wheeze as he suddenly picks up the pace, your fingers gripping tightly onto the bed sheets on the cot. Mando’s tentative testing seems to end, his hips picking up speed and force when he finds the confidence he will not hurt you.

Arching your back, you push your hips back into his thrusts. It sets off a string of grunts and groans from The Mandalorian. “Fuck- you’re so tight around me, Sarad. So tight and f-fucking wet.”

It’s so unusual for him; words usually buried deep unless absolutely necessary. You’re unsure you’ve ever heard him talk so much, his voice growing louder with each slap of his skin against the curve of your ass.

“Fuck- I’d… I’d let you ruin my armour with this pretty pussy,” he rambles, hands squeezing at every handful of flesh he can; your hips, your ass, your waist and breasts. “You can gr-hngg grind against it, mark it up with how wet you are. Make you lick it off-“

“Mando!” You choke out, each syllable of his utterly filthy words pulsing through you and blurring your vision of the chest plate with the tears that well in your eyes.

“Stars, just- Just mark me up with that pretty cunt. Stain my tassets. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Get to watch as you drag it over my beskar-“

You’re seeing double, the vision of Mando fucking into you at a mind-numbing pace making you light-headed. You can feel it build, feel it grow and tease at the edges of your body.

“I-I’m gunna c-ughhhh!”

Mando simply reaches around you, pushing the leather-clad pad of his thumb against your clit.

The supernova that blasts through you burns your muscles as they clamp down around him, sobbing loudly and forcing your eyes open to witness your writhing body in the outline of the armour.

Mando’s hips stutter in the image projected back to you, and you both watch and feel him bury deep inside you, cumming with a trembling groan. His palm splays across your lower back, pressing your upper body down against the mattress and continuing to fuck you through the obliterating overstimulation that follows.

Credits:

— Gif Credits unknown- let me know so I can tag you!

— Mandalorian divider created by me using Picsart stickers.

-

[pascalispretty]

Leading Blindly

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 1966

Warnings: Reader is a sex worker, loss of virginity, Mando has a huge dick, woman on top, reader has a size kink, blindfolds.

Summary: A young Mandalorian seeks relief for the first time at a Canto Bight brothel.

A/N: My entry for Day Two of @absurdthirst's Kinktober - the prompt was 'Loss of Virginity'. I'm picturing an early 20s Mando here, but imagine what you like! My thanks as always to my beloved @misscharlielulu. (ao3).

The blindfold hadn’t been the strangest request you’ve ever received. The client had requested you specifically according to Lenera, the madam, as she helped knot the fabric tightly over your eyes. A Mandalorian she had whispered, almost in awe. You had waited in your room for the client, the heavy footfall signalling his arrival long before he spoke.

From sound alone you couldn’t gauge much; the heavy thumps of his armour as he set them down, the voice that sounded young even with the modulation provided by the helmet, the sharp inhale of breath when you pulled your silky slip up over your head to let him look at you.

His touch, when it came, was gentle but faltering. A virgin, you suspected. Everything spoke of newness and uncertainty, from the difficulty he had in articulating what he wanted to the hesitancy in the hand he rested on your waist.

Eventually he had agreed to lie back on your bed, his head propped up on the stack of plush pillows while you straddled his lap.

It’s how you find yourself in the Mandalorian’s lap, one hand resting on his abdomen as you slowly grind down on him.

“Don’t worry, Mando,” you whisper softly as you unfasten his pants. “I’ll take good care of you.” His breath escapes him in a hiss as your fingers slide beneath his waistband and wrap carefully around his cock. Even without your sight, there’s no mistaking it; he’s huge. You can barely wrap your fingers around the width of him, and the length is just as impressive.

In your years of working in the finest Canto Bight establishments, you’re not sure you’ve ever seen his equal on a human, much less such a shy one.

“Oh,” you whisper, trailing your fingertips down the length of him to better gauge just how big he is. “You’re so big.” For most men, it would have been nothing more than an ego stroke; for the Mandalorian, it’s just the truth. And unlike most men, who would have received such a comment with delight, the Mandalorian beneath you squirms.

“I- I didn’t know. Is it- Will it be a problem? I wouldn’t want to hurt you.” Instead of proud or aroused, he sounds embarrassed.

“Oh, you sweet boy,” you murmur, and he squirms again beneath you. “I can show you how to make it easier?” He whines when you make your offer, his gloved hands gripping harder at your hips.

“Yes, p-please,” he manages. It’s such a pity he won’t take the helmet off; you want to kiss his forehead and tell him what a sweetheart he is.

“You may need to take one of your gloves off then, Mando. Whichever hand is your dominant one.” Your fingers are still wrapped around his cock, stroking lightly. The thick weight of it in your hands practically making you drool. Certainly you can feel yourself getting wetter, slick pooling between your legs and making your thighs feel sticky.

His hands leave your waist, and you hear him slide one of the soft leather gloves off and drop it onto the bed beside him. With his glove off, he touches your waist again with new hesitance. You wonder how often he does this; has the chance to touch another person, with no barriers between you. It’s such an unexpected feeling of intimacy from a mere brush of the fingers, and your cheeks grow warm.

“You- you’re so soft.” He says, and the marvel in his voice is so endearing.

“Thank you, sweet boy.” With reluctance, you let go of his cock in favour of dragging your fingertips up the insides of your own thighs, gathering the slick smeared down your skin. You hold your fingertips up for his inspection, turning them to try and show the wetness glistening in the low light.

“The more aroused a woman is, the wetter and more relaxed she is. It’ll make it more comfortable, especially with what you’re hiding.” You tease gently, leaning back a little on his lap to try and give him a better view between your legs. With your own fingertips you part your folds, putting yourself on display for him.

“You see this, sweet boy?” You ask, tracing lightly over your clit and managing to make yourself shiver. “You want to make sure this gets plenty of attention. And if you have time, you should use your fingers inside too; it helps to open the muscles up.” He sucks in another breath, and you wish so badly you could rip the blindfold off and look at him, helmeted or no.

“Would you show me?” He asks eventually.

“Oh Mando, you’re so polite,” you say lightly, drawing a light circle around your clit. “You’ll spoil me for all my other clients.”

As far as you can tell, he watches intently as you play with your clit, showing him how to start slowly and softly, the signs a woman might make if she’s enjoying herself. The closer you get to coming, the more you feel him starting to squirm beneath you, and for one moment you wonder if you should stop, lest he finish too soon, before even getting inside of you.

“Keep going. Please, please don’t stop,” Mando whines at you – he must have noticed your hand starting to slow. “I want to watch, please-” The soft sincerity in his voice is what sends you over the edge, your free hand steadying yourself on his abdomen as you come. His hands clutch tighter at your hips, so hard that you hope he leaves you a mark to remember this encounter by.

When you get your breath back, he dips his ungloved hand lower.

“Can I?” He asks, and you nod enthusiastically before he can even clarify what it is that he wants. You moan loudly when he dips his fingers just barely into your cunt, a low groan rumbling through him as he feels just how wet you are.

“Oh, that’s it, sweet boy,” you murmur as he carefully slides one of his fingers into you. It presses deeply inside you, so much farther than your own can reach. That familiar heat starts to build again in your core, flames licking your insides as his finger brushes past an electrifying spot within you. You start to rock your hips, fucking yourself on his finger. He soon responds in kind, matching your pace as his gloved hand clings to your hip.

“Another, another,” you beg breathily after a moment. His fingers are thick, but you know his cock is so much thicker; you want to be as prepared as you can be. You whine as he slides the second finger in, your muscles easily flexing to accommodate him. Still riding his fingers, you bring your palm up to your mouth and spit, before wrapping your hand around his cock again.

He groans at your touch, his cock throbbing in your hand, and you can’t take it any longer.

“Mando, sweet boy,” you pant, his fingers still working inside you. “Are you ready?” No words escape him, just another low groan as he slides his fingers out of you. He’s breathing raggedly, even through the modulator of the helmet, and you swipe your thumb over the head of his cock. “I need you to tell me, sweet boy.”

“Ye-yes,” he manages. You notch the head of his cock against your opening, your muscles straining to accommodate the blunt, weeping tip. Slowly you ease yourself down onto his cock with tiny flicks of your hips, impaling yourself gradually. Beneath you, Mando is doing his best to hold still, to resist squirming for fear of hurting you.

“That’s it, sweet boy.” Your time with him so far tells you he enjoys being praised. “You’re making me feel so full.” With the first few inches of him buried inside you, you get braver with your movements, taking more of him with every downstroke.

By the time he bottoms out inside of you, you’re so full you can barely breathe. You’re not sure you’ve ever been this full, not even when that pretty Twi’lek socialite had paid you to let her fuck you with her fist. You rest your hands on the planes of Mando’s chest, your fingertips flexing as you try to adjust.

Your client isn’t much better off than you are. His breathing filters raspily through his helmet, his hands clinging to your hips as he tries to ground himself. When he gives a tentative thrust upwards, you moan loudly, the sound completely unfeigned.

Between the two of you, you set a relatively slow pace. He doesn’t want to hurt you, he’s made that much clear, and you expect he also doesn’t want to end things too quickly. His first attempts to meet your movements are erratic, but he learns to follow your rhythm, rocking up into you as you ride him. His gloved hand remains anchored to your hip, his bare hand begins to roam over your body, cupping one of your tits and squeezing carefully.

Mando braces his feet on the mattress behind you, allowing him to push somehow deeper inside of you with his thrusts. You tip your head back and moan, trying to recall when you had last experienced this much genuine pleasure with one of your clients. It’s not long before you start riding him in earnest; you don’t expect him to last long no matter what you do, but you want to enjoy his masterpiece of a cock as much as you can.

It’s not long before his thrusts become more erratic, his breathing coming harder from beneath the helmet. You try not to be too disappointed, instead quickening the pace, fucking yourself harder onto his thick cock.

“I’m- I think I’m gonna come, where…?” He eventually manages between low groans, and you arch your back as pleasure races up your spine. You won’t come, not so quickly, but it still feels delicious to hear the Mandalorian sound so utterly wrecked beneath you.

“Wherever you like, sweet boy, wherever will make you feel good,” you practically purr at him, your fingertips digging a little harder into the fabric of his clothes. His movements become clumsier, his hand squeezing a little tighter at the flesh of your tit. It’s not long before he comes inside you with a sharp groan, an almost pained sound; you hadn’t expected him to last nearly this long.

Even before he’s finished riding out his climax, you feel his seed start to drip out of you, forced out by the sheer size of him. You give him a moment, letting him catch his breath. He doesn’t relax though; even as his cock is softening inside you, the bare hand on your tit disappears, only to come back to your hip once again gloved.

Carefully, he lifts you off him, ignoring the come dripping out of you as he sets you on the bed beside him. With the blindfold on, you’ve no way of gauging just how much of a mess you’ve made, or what kind of state his clothes might be in. You listen silently to his movements as he stands and begins to put his armour back on; the soft clips and buckles, the heavy tread of his boots as he steps back into them.

“Am I- do your clients normally say thank you?” He asks eventually. You’re so taken aback by the question that you can’t help the giggle that escapes you.

“I don’t think I’ve ever had a client quite so polite as you, Mando.” You’re in no hurry to move; you lounge back on your bed, legs spread obscenely. “Come back sometime; I’m dying to see how much of that cock of yours I could fit in my mouth.”

Tag List:

@avengersfan25 @misscharlielulu

[galaxyedging]

Mandalorians aren't supposed to sleep around before marriage. Din has been good about that. He's dedicated to his Creed. Besides, while constantly travelling the galaxy or hiding with his people, he hasn't met anyone that could tempt him to risk it. Until he met you. Now he has to employ every trick in the book to work around his Creed, until the day you marry.

Smutty thoughts under the cut.

The first time you jerk him off, Din thinks nothing can get better than that. Maker, your hands are so soft compared to his. He can't get enough. After he watches his cum drip down your delicate hands, he begs you to show him how to touch you so he can return the favour.

No, Din was wrong. Things can get better. Maybe even too good. He thinks he might die from the overwhelming feeling. His length twitches against the back of your throat as your warm mouth surrounds him. The way you suck on him and work his cock with your lips. This is his own personal paradise.

When he is more comfortable, you start stripping naked when you touch each other. Rather than working around his armour. From the first time he sees your breasts, he becomes obsessed with them. The delicate skin, the weight of them as he caresses them. The way your nipples instantly respond to his touch. When you ask if he wants to cum over them it doesn't take long for him to reach his peak. One night, you convince him to straddle your stomach so he can rut his cock between your tits. It didn't take long for him to cum the first time. He was embarrassed by how quickly he shot his load across your chest and neck but he loved the way you looked marked by him.

From there he realises there are parts of you body he is technically allowed to use to make himself cum. Your tits, your thighs, the curve of your ass. He takes them all. Spilling his cum over your skin with much satisfaction. He always makes sure to make you cum on his fingers, at least once, afterwards. 

Technically, this isn't breaking his Creed he thinks as he pushes the tip of his cock past your tight ring of muscle. This isn't sex, not by his Creed, but if it isn't sex the real thing will kill him. The fact that he can give you pleasure at the same time he receives it is diving him nuts. Every time he thrusts and your tight body works him closer to the edge, he hits something that makes you moan. "I'm close Din. So close." That has him thinking more about your pleasure and not just trying to keep his own orgasm at bay. Snaking his hand around he used your swollen bud to push you over the edge. "Din! Din! Din!" He follows you over the edge. His hips don't still until he is completely spent. Every drop of his seed pumped into your warm body.

Then come the toys. Secretly, you purchase a vibrating dildo. After a rough hunt, you insist on giving Din a show. The way the toy glistens with your cum, the way it has you arching up off the bed, Din is so envious and so, so aroused. Moving to the bottom of your rented bed to get a better look he can't help but hump the mattress beneath him. His heavy cock jerks between his body and the firm foam. He's a mess by the time you reach for him after exhausting yourself. A few passes of your fist have him coating your hand.

Peli, of all people, gives him the best idea yet. It was against his will, after she'd drank too much at a poker game. While he helped her home. She'd made a comment about knowing about his situation. "Some say it's only sex if you thrust. I know of people who just put it in and then get their friends to move the bed. I am not that good of a friend." She'd told him and stumbled off to bed. "Are you sure?" You ask him, sitting in his lap, bare underneath your skirt as his cock sits proud out from his jumpsuit. "Yes." He nods resolutely before helping you to straddle him. He has to breathe through the feeling of slipping into your perfect, wet heat so he doesn't cum. He didn't realise how hard it would be to resist the temptation to thrust once he was buried inside you. He does as he pressed a few buttons to bring the N1 to life. The vibration of the engine powering up run through him, ever so slightly rubbing his cock against your walls. He moans at the feeling. Taking the ship up he punches her forward to be rewarded by you bouncing on his cock. He nearly spills himself there and then. Only holding on because he does want it to end. A few tight circuits around Tatooine has your hips bouncing, sliding and rolling against him. "Dank farrik!" He grunts, shooting the ship into space. The final jolt of the ship stopping in a safe place brings him to climax. He nearly weeps as he lets rope after rope paint your walls. He keeps his cock buried in you, keeping you full as he brings you to your peak, your pussy spasming all over his softening length.

The light behind his eyes is blinding as he fills you. "Yes, Din. Give it to me!" Filling you properly for the first time took his breath away. You'd begged for him to breed you on your wedding night. After such a long wait for him to redeem himself so he could marry you as a Mandalorian, you begged for his cock and his cum. Finally finding the strength after his orgams, he drops down between your legs to see his handiwork. Your hole is still fluttering as he scoops up errant drops of his seed. He pushes it back in deep with two thick fingers before his lips find your clit to suck on it. Making you cum again and causing a fight between your cunt contracting and squirting his cum as he tries to stuff it back in. This is how he spends his wedding night. Fucking you full of his cum and keeping it plugged with his cock, his fingers, his tongue until you stop begging for his seed and start begging for his mercy.

Tags @kirsteng42 @prolix-yuy @thegreenkid2 @hquinzelle @fangirl-316 @gracie7209 @jedifarmerr @doommommy @scorpio-marionette @sturkillerbase @harriedandharassed @aynsleywalker @mswarriorbabe80 @quica-quica-quica @rise-my-angel @adancedivasmom @graciexmarvel @kinda-nobody @movievillainess721 @munsonownsmyass

[nerdieforpedro]

Only about you tonight Mesh'la

Din Djarin x plus size female reader

This fanfic is 18+ MDNI

Word Count: about 2.2k

Warnings: Din Djarin is a menace, HANDS, massage, sense deprivation, oral sex (female receiving), face sitting, body worship

Summary: The Mandalorian has had two things on his mind for some time. He wants to explore your curves and he wants to be between your thighs.

Notes: Din Djarin brain rot has fully set in. I have leaned HARD into it. I'm gonna give the man something soft to use. I mean, if it's Din, it's free use, right? Not beta-read. We're just putting out smut and putting out for Din.

Main Masterlist / Din Djarin - The Mandalorian Masterlist / A03 link

It hasn’t been his intention at first, to have you spread before him like this. Din truly just wanted you as a partner for your skill with a blaster and quick wit. However, the more time he spends with you, the greater his desire has become to have his hands explore your rolls and holds. 

The Mandalorian treats his longing like one of his bounties. Watching and biding his time. Opportunity struck when you’d been crouching down in a hiding spot behind some rocks while Mando took care of some imperial remnants. You’d been able to get a few good shots in, but your legs were cramping and you needed support to get back to the Razor Crest. 

The suggestion was that he could massage your legs to ease the discomfort. You were hesitant but Mando was aware how much you trusted him. He felt some shame for using it to his own ends, but needed his hands on you. Helping you over to the cot was first, then having you lay down and take some deep breaths as you grew accustomed to him just placing his hands on your calves. Gloves were removed and you were able to see his uncovered scarred hands, moving slowly past your knees to your thighs. The large heaves of your chest as he worked were his indication as he moved, ecstatic to know that he was able to partially communicate his yearning. The Mandalorian stopped at your mid-thigh and asked if you wanted him to continue, his palms pressing into your soft flesh.

Propping yourself up on your elbows, you nodded before exhaling a soft yes. It was then that the Mandalorian let his fingers spread out and sunk partially into your thighs. His arousal has spun wildly and he’s throbbing at your agreement. 

“Mesh’la do you want to remove your pants or should I? Direct contact is the best remedy for your aches.” 

It appeared that your partner, the famed warrior had a rather specific ache he was willing to help you with, why else ask you to remove your bottoms? Not that you were complaining at all, raising your hips, Mando wasted no time in pulling them off. Behind his t-visor, he marveled at the plentiful gift of your plush skin before him. His hands immediately plunged into the jiggly meat, massaging as his calloused fingertips explored you.

Bending your knees in response, you exposed the moistness of your core sticking to your drenched panties, the new source of your ache. Watching the Mandalorian’s hands roll closer toward your heat, you finally released a moan. He stood, forcing some of his body weight into your thighs, making your next moan crack with a squeal. 

“Mesh’la, allow me three things, your vision will need to be obscured, I will remove your panties and when you moan, call me Din. Please.” His voice was firm until the please, hinted desperation with his last word. Your broad partner above had a noticeable tent in his flight suit, you weren’t the only one aching - Maker be praised.

“I trust you Din. I always have, savor me.” Growling your agreement as your eyes showcase your lust, Din wishes he could show you his, but he cannot. A brief few moments are spent away from you as he retrieves a thick black piece of fabric. Tied around your eyes, he shines a light from his arm guard at your face to test if you react to the light, you do not. 

Now is the time - you hear a hissing noise and a metal thud followed by a thud. Has he removed it? His helmet? Is he really going to satisfy the feelings you thought you shouldn’t have for the man? His hands spread your legs further and he pulls you to the edge of the cot. That’s when you hear the richness of his unmodulated voice for the first time, your panties are pulled off. Your body flinches from both the cool air and the cold beskar that the back of your knees are now touching. You’re certain it’s his shoulder pauldrons which means he’s face to face with your desire for The Mandalorian, who you’ll now call Din.

“Sweet cyar’ika, I apologize for not caring for you properly sooner. Do not cover your mouth and do not hold back. My generous one.” His breath washes over your mouth, having you hitch your breath. He’s taking his time and you did instruct him to savor you but you’d like his mouth to be otherwise occupied.

“Din. Din. Don’t just stare. Touch me. So I can call your name louder.” 

One of his hands playfully slaps your hip and his cheek rubs against your thigh, he’s enjoying teasing you, watching your desperation for him to begin. You speak his name with a moan, his call to action as two fingers find themselves on your folds to part the way for his tongue. It curls inside your entrance, your hips buck forward for more. Pressing his lips to flush your folds, the loud slurps and the increasing volume to which Din’s name was leaving your mouth filled the Razor Crest. Your ankles crossed behind his shoulders to force his face even further into your core.

Djarin tucked his chin and used his nose to graze your clit before pressing gently into the bundle while still licking vigorous stripes up and down your folds. You did something you thought may have been against whatever unspoken rules Din may have had with your hands diving into his soft hair, your center was quivering. It felt like something was coming out more than your normal orgasm. After screaming, still holding onto his precious hair that you may never feel again after what you’ve done to his face, soft moans still leave your lips because he’s still lapping up juices from your folds and inner thighs. The entire area is so sensitive but you’d never tell him to stop, only to keep going as he likes.

“Din I…didn’t mean to pull your hair. I’m not sure if I was supposed to touch it and your face is…wet I think.” The tough skin of his palms rubbed circles into the flesh of your thighs. You heard him chuckle, was something funny?

“No apologies needed cyar’ika. I won’t flinch from a few tugs. My wet face is an honor, one I hope to repeat. You’ll remove your shirt and bra, then sit. I want to see all of you bounce on my face mesh’la.” Gentle kisses down your inner thigh toward the fat on your knee tickle you. The gravity of what he’s saying isn’t lost on you, but it’s not just anyone asking. It’s Din. Someone who you know can lift you out of harm’s way, this is a completely different situation but the same principle applies: the man will be fine. 

His teeth nibble on the pouch of fat next to your knee as he pulls you forward and removes your legs from his shoulders, placing his hands on your back and sitting you up at bedside. Softly groaning his name, your shirt is removed and you follow that with your bra. It’s Din’s turn to growl, his hands roam over the pouch where the lower part of your stomach hangs with his thumbs casually running between your rolls. His gaze warms your smile, your own hands find their way to his shoulders and then tentatively to his cheeks. The stubble scratches your fingertips as you map his face with your hands. He hasn’t pushed them away.

Din knows that this is the most he’ll be able to give you for now. You can feel his face, but not see it. He longs to one day have eye contact without his helmet or beskar (maybe some days with it on) buried within you but he can offer you this. He knows you can feel your slick on his face, he’s been dripping into his flight suit the entire time. He’d ask you on another day to help with that - today is about you. He wants you to know he doesn’t expect anything in return except your climaxes, screams and to be allowed to touch like this, manipulate your malleable body. Your fingers trace his lips and now followed by his eyebrows and mustache, he wants your hands elsewhere and everywhere. To distract himself, two of his fingers slip between your folds, soft hands are back in his hair with his mustache tickling your breast. His mouth has found your pebble of a nipple that it feels like he’s trying to swallow. 

Both arms pull Din’s head to your chest, the sharp inhale of air before he’s buried in your body has you whining. The intensity of just two of his thick fingers have you close to your second orgasm but he removes them, a pop then a second as his mouth parts from your nipple. “Taste yourself, then you’ll come twice for me.” You extend your tongue, leaving yourself open for his fingers. Din’s eyes dilated, his hand moving in slow motion toward your mouth, watching as his two fingers covered in your slick pressed down on your moist tongue. Sealing your lips around his digits, you begin pushing your tongue between his fingers, breathy sighs leave your throat while your hands continue to roam Din’s head, nails razing his scalp. The Mandalorian moans your name, pressing his face into your stomach, nuzzling his face, nipping at your skin.

 “Hold on tight for a moment, cyar'ika.” Drawing his hand back, the bounty hunter stands, you release his head and let your arms fall to your sides. “I’m going to lay down and you’ll sit cyar’ika.” 

“Yes. Can I touch more of you Din? Just a bit.” The cot dips under his weight as he sits and lays down, his knuckles brush against your hip, letting you know he’s ready for you. He answers your question wordlessly, though you’re hopeful maybe one day you can have more of him. Using your hands, you feel the soft swell of his stomach under his flight suit and lower your palm, following what you imagine to be a trail of possible hair to where Din’s hardness is. He grabs your wrist, his grip loosening slightly but still prevents you from touching him.

“Not yet mesh’la. Right now is your time, not mine. Come sit for me, my face is growing cold.” He hears you huff as you move, your wide legs straddling him after moving beside his shoulders. You don’t sit yet, you can tease as well, hovering above his face, his breath warming your thighs again. Din chuckles and doesn’t force you down. He’ll wait and allow you to mount him at your own pace. Despite your lack of vision, you’re confident and he loves it, he knows you’re not delaying because you’re worried about harming him, your attempting to goad him into action is cute. 

“You’re selfish Din. Next time, I want to give you the same treatment.” It’s here that you take your place and let him devour you from below. Unlike before, he doesn’t start with gentle licks and kisses, his tongue dove right past your entrance and circled your spongy walls, having you call his name promptly. Using your hips, you helped him reach deeper within you still as that glorious nose of his alternated between teasing your mound and your sensitive bud. He gorged himself on your swelling folds, hearing his growls had you cry out his name with your first peak. Din slowed his tongue, even pulling back his nose to gently kiss your glistening opening while the waves had you feeling every cell you had. “Give me…a moment Din. I…”

The plush flushed tip of his tongue pressed against your clit and you swore you felt him smiling. Muffled, “That was only one. You owe me a second. I’m remaining selfish for now. Show me the same courtesy during next time you mentioned.” You wanted to retort but only a whimper came out, your hips would not stop moving despite your core feeling like it wouldn't stop vibrating. What had he done to your cunt? If it didn’t feel as if you were going to float away as Din remained between your legs, you’d have told him no more, you can’t. But you can only moan and squeal as he continues his avid study, attempting to learn every zone within you he can during his first time with you. 

“Dank farrik…Din…Din!!” Your puffy folds soaked your Mandalorian’s face once more, your vision turns white before fading back to black. Your palms catch you as you fall forward and lower yourself onto the cot before rolling off of Din’s face. He doesn’t relent, turning on his side, he sucks your slick off of your bruised flesh and parts your folds to give it a good night kiss, bending your knee, allows him more access and he’s tempted to keep going but he knows you can’t. Reaching for a blanket, he wraps it around your naked body before putting his arms around you, finding your lips so you can taste yourself once more. 

Comfortable in his arms and feels safe with a satisfying ache between your legs, it marks a new chapter between the Mandalorian and you. There’s so much to tell him that running through your mind, but the silence is perfect after so many lewd noises shared on the Crest. 

Next time won’t be so far off.

Space Buddies ☄️: @linzels-blog @maggiemayhemnj @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @missladym1981 @morallyinept @sherala007 @yorksgirl @daddy-dins-girl @magpiepillsjunior @megamindsecretlair @anoverwhelmingdin @theincredibleinkspitter @alltheglitterandtheroar @mrsmando @drawingdroid @harriedandharassed @i-own-loki @lady-bess @undercoverpena-fics @pedroshotwifey @thefrogdalorian @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @604to647 @soft-girl-musings @syd-djarin @yourcoolauntie @survivingandenduring

[joelscruff]

could you maybe write something similar to your javier fic but for din/reader? her not knowing his name or who he is (and obviously not being able to see his face) but having sex with him anyway? long fic, drabble, anything! I love your writing <3

spent (din djarin x reader) 18+ drabble

okay, this is filthyyyy. you didn't tell me any specific kinks so hopefully this works for you!! thank you for the suggestion! summary: you're a prostitute and din pays you for your services. rating: 18+ explicit warnings: prostitution, dirty talk, creampie, slight degradation, helmet stays on, lmk if there's something i missed word count: 811

The beskar is uncomfortable, cold and heavy against your body. He'd asked twice so far if it was hurting you and you'd replied honestly, told him you weren't in pain but that it wasn't exactly the sexiest feeling against your skin. To your surprise, he'd apologized.

"I don't remove my armor," he'd explained, situating you in his lap on the bed. He lounged underneath you, sitting up against the headboard as you faced him and rode his cock rhythmically, your tits bouncing heavily with every thrust. "It goes against my religion."

"I t-take it your religion doesn't say anything about pre-marital sex," you'd moaned, and you swore you'd heard him chuckle beneath his helmet.

"No," he'd said, digging his gloved hands into your bare hips, "We can fuck as much as we want," he'd sat up then and angled his cock somehow even deeper inside of you, making you moan loudly, "And as hard as we want."

You've never met a real mandalorian before, or at least one so dead-set on keeping every inch of his armor on despite the service he's paid you for. You thought you'd met one a few years ago, or someone who claimed to be one anyway, but he'd removed his armor - and his helmet - which looking back makes you realize he'd probably been full of shit. Whatever, he'd paid you well.

This one is faceless and completely unreadable; the only way you can tell he's enjoying himself is the way he relentlessly pounds into you, holds you firm on his cock and helps you bounce up and down. He keeps his helmet pointed directly at your face, watching you. For someone whose job it is to remain unclothed for most of your shift, you've somehow never felt so naked.

He hasn't told you his name, a pretty common practice in your field, but usually you're able to connect more to a client when you can see their face, read their expressions, gauge their bodies. You don't need their name to figure out what makes them tick. This client however is completely closed off to you, and having no face to go along with no name leaves quite the disconnect.

He's paid for an hour, but at the speed he's going you doubt he'll stick around for his money's worth; travelers like him, people just stopping by, they rarely stay for the whole slot.

You try to look down at where you're joined, hoping to catch a glimpse of the cock belonging to this faceless man, thick and girthy inside your heat, but you feel a gloved finger on your chin. He tilts your head up and you try to see anything within the depths of his helmet, any sign of an expression or a real person. He remains unreadable.

"Eyes on me," he says firmly, voice modulated slightly through the helmet, "My cock is not for you to look at, it's for you to fuck yourself on until I come."

You tense up at his words, shivering slightly in pleasure and fucking yourself down on him harder, "S-sorry, sir," you whimper.

He squeezes your hip with one hand and presses his other flat against your tummy, thumbing the space below your belly button, "Can you feel my cock in there?" he asks and you whine, nodding, "You've had a lot in there, haven't you? Answer me."

"Y-yes," you moan, "A lot."

"How many today?"

"Only yours," it's true, business has been slow these past few days and he's the first client to pick you over the others in about a week, "Just yours."

"Damn right," he says, satisfied with your answer, "And you're gonna be thinking about it for a long time, aren't you?"

Before you can answer, he reaches up to grip your shoulders, halting your movements. He holds you firmly and pistons his cock into you with such force that your jaw drops open, drool spilling down your chin. You try to say something, answer his question, but words are completely lost on you as the fat head of his cock pounds your cervix relentlessly over and over, your mind going blank.

"That's it," he mutters under the helmet, breath faltering, "Need someone to fuck you stupid, don't you?" he chuckles again, pulling you tight against the cold beskar of his armor, "Gonna fill you up now, hold still."

You couldn't move if you'd wanted to, drunk on his cock as he pushes your shoulders down once more and holds you there, feeling him pulse and twitch within your walls as he coats the deepest parts of you with come. You writhe in his lap, tears stinging your eyes as he fills you up, marks you, makes you his.

"There you go," he's still completely unreadable behind the mask, but you can feel his eyes on your face, watching as he pumps you full of his spend, "Worth every penny."

---

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and here's my kofi, if you'd like to leave a tip!

[helpinghanikan]

Star Wars: Kinktober 2023

Day 3: Face sitting (Din Djarin)

Kinktober Masterlist

As far as anyone was concerned Din was as conservative as anyone in the galaxy. Barely anyone has seen a Mandalorian without the helmet. Those that have either refuse to say what’s under it or change the answer every time.

For now, you were still in that first group. Sex hasn’t changed that either. So it was a bit of a shock when he asked you to sit on his face.

Not one to say no, you were already getting your pants off.

Your eyes were squeezed shut while Din guided you into position. When you opened them you were facing the wall of your little sleeping cubby. Although everything inside of you was screaming to lean back and get a quick look. But you weren’t the kind to take advantage.

“If it becomes too much, you better tap.” You warned him, lowering yourself down onto his face.

He was going to say something stupid; you just knew it. This was the only reason you had to place yourself down faster than you would have any other time. Hearing Din say something like; ‘this is the way’ when it comes to dying by pussy wasn’t how you wanted the evening to go.

He manages to moan out a “careful,” when you press down. His hands, free of gloves and warm as the sun, hold your thighs tightly. Squeezing them and trying to move you himself since it was hard to give you direction.

You were already hot and wet just from the suggestion. His tongue licking through your lower lips was a great start. Experimenting with your hip moving, rolling forward and back against his mouth. Letting how tightly he holds your thighs be the guide for how fast you should be moving. By the way he was holding you, he seemed to be pretty okay with you moving fast and hard as you want.

“Din, oh my God!” You call out as his tongue slides into you.

The cubby has always been too small for more than one person. Add in the nights where both you and Din sleep and the air is way too stuffy to breathe correctly. Add in when Grogu snuggles with the two of you and it’s a hard place to sleep in.

None of those times were compared to now. But you didn’t really care about the heat.

The orgasm is building from your crotch upwards. A warmth that tingles through your body until it reaches your fingers. It wasn’t like a normal orgasm when Din pounds into you from behind. That was like trying to land a plan. Focusing on all the little things that have to come together to make the climax happen.

In this instance, it’s all Din’s doing. Yes, you're moving your hips, but he had to get you to cum. It creates a sort of power he has over you.

That power starts to expand into an orgasm. Shaking through your chest and fogging up your head. The orgasm took the wind from your chest, gasping and moaning out. Your hips rocking through the orgasm until, by miracle, Din taps out.

“Good job,” You panted, maneuvering yourself off of him.

It’s only due to the force of habit that your eyes closed. You sit against the wall while Din rustles around the room, getting his helmet back on. Only then does he come closer; cool metal pressing against your forehead in an affectionate gesture.

“I’ll be sure to thank Fett when we get back.” He says, pulling you close against him.

[ghostofaboy]

Take Your Time

Pairing: Din Djarin/Cobb Vanth  Rating: Explicit Word count: 993

Warnings: Rimming, little bit of degradation, hints of Dom/sub, orgasm control

Summary: Finally having some time to themselves, Cobb rims Din for the first time, who finds that he likes it a little too much.

Note: This has not been beta read so apologies for any mistakes. This was a request from @alwaysmicado as part of my 100 Follower Celebration.

Din's breath caught in his throat as he felt Cobb's hands roaming over his exposed skin. Their time together was usually rushed, hurried hand jobs and the occasional almost fully clothed fuck whenever their paths crossed. But this time was different. They had the time to take their time.

After the events with the Pykes, Cobb had been out of action, resulting in the citizens of Freetown stepping up to fill his position. Something that they had done wonderfully, allowing Cobb to time to heal without needing to worry about the town. When Din had received Cobb’s message, he'd hopped into the N1 faster than a lolth cat with its tail on fire.

Here on Tatooine Freetown was a haven, for him and Cobb. Here Din knew Grogu would be safe with the kindly teacher who regularly wrangled the children who called the small town home. And that left him and Cobb with time. Something Cobb was eager to take advantage of.

Stifling a moan, Din let his head drop down, feeling the cool metal of his helmet as it rested against his forearm, as Cobb continued to touch and tease him. After stripping his clothes off him, Cobb had instructed Din to get on all fours on the bed. Din had done as he was asked, expecting to be fucked by Cobb. What he hadn't expected was for his lover to lick and suck on his balls in this position while his hands roamed over Din's exposed ass.

His cock was achingly hard, throbbing in time with his heartbeat as Cobb's fingers skirted over his tight ring of muscle over and over. His lover's breath felt hot against his naked skin as Cobb began to kiss his way up from Din's balls to his hole.

A sudden lick across his hole caught Din off guard and he jumped on reflex.

"Easy darlin'." Cobb soothed, pulling Din's cheeks further apart. "Just relax for me. I've been thinkin' about eatin' this ass for a long time. And we’ve got all day for me to take my time."

"I-" Was all Din was able to get out before Cobb's tongue began to circle his hole.

Cobb started with small quick licks, lapping at Din's ass, pulling gasps and moans from the Mandalorian. Then, steadily, Cobb increased his attention. Holding Din's cheeks firmly with both hands, Cobb kissed and probed the waiting hole, humming his approval as he went.

"Such a pretty sight." Din could hear Cobb's musings in between the licks and kisses. “Love you like this pretty boy. On your knees for me. On display. Perfect.”

Din’s cock twitched as Cobb’s words as the warm wet sensation of his tongue overtook all other stimuli. His whole body trembled as Cobb’s hot tongue darted over his hole, probing it, seeking entry. Din could feel his legs beginning to shake as his climax began to build. He’d never experienced anything like this before, having never trusted a partner this much prior to Cobb. 

Din’s cheeks burned under his helmet as Cobb slowly and steadily worked his ass open with the tip of his tongue. With each nudge against the ring of muscle, the moans and gasps coming from Din grew louder. With each gentle penetration, Din could feel himself being pushed closer and closer to the edge.

Beneath him, Din knew his cock was leaking onto the sheets and, from the chuckles from Cobb, it sounded like his lover had noticed too. Din tensed briefly as Cobb’s fingers encircled the base of his cock, temporarily stemming Din’s approaching orgasm. Cobb laughed softly as Din let out a needy whine.

“Oh now, don’t grumble.” Cobb pulled back, but Din could still feel his breath on his hole as he spoke. “You wanna come, darlin’?”

“I… I… yes.” Din managed to get out, pushing his hips back towards Cobb instinctively. 

“Now now.” Cobb playfully squeezed Din’s ass cheek with his right hand, still holding the base of his cock firmly with the other. “Where are your manners? I said, do you want to come?”

Din’s thighs were shaking uncontrollably now as he blinked his eyes, desperately not to come before given permission.

“P-please.” Din groaned out, his eyes rolling back into his head as Cobb released his grip on Din’s cock. 

“That’s better.” Cobb’s voiced was muffled, his lips already pressed to Din’s twitching hole as he began to work his tongue back inside. 

Over and over the kisses, licks, along with the gentle nips at Din’s cheeks and Cobb’s hands squeezing them firmly assaulted Din’s already overstimulated body. The world fell away until all Din knew was Cobb’s mouth devouring him and the aching of his own cock.

“Please, I need more… I need you to… Cobb please…” Din rambled as his climax neared. 

“I know.” He heard Cobb from behind him. “Look at you, though, My gorgeous little slut. I wanna enjoy this for a little longer and you know I love it when you beg.”

“Please Cobb.” Din knew whether he got permission to come or not, the moment Cobb’s tongue touched him again he was done. “Please, please, I need…”

“It’s no fun when you give in that easy.” Cobb chuckled. “All right. You also know I’m a sucker for you when you say please so pretty.”

With no warning, Cobb returned his attention to Din’s ass, his tongue circled the rim, before beginning to lap firmly. Letting out an obscene moan, Din’s body shuddered as he came, thick ropes erupting from his untouched cock in bursts as Cobb’s mouth never left his ass. 

Finally, as the fog began to lift from Din’s mind, he could still feel Cobb’s tongue gently nudging against his hole. Looking over his shoulder, Din was rewarded with a cheeky wink from Cobb. It looked like Cobb wasn’t done with him yet and was going to make the most of having Din for the day and take his time.