#sub!din djarin

[pedroshotwifey]

Lesson

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Tags/Warnings: NO use of Y/N, dom!reader, sub!din djarin, extreme over-stimulation, pregnant reader (not mentioned until the end), reader is a badass and we love her, restraints, aftercare, fluffy fluff, slight bdsm, Din whimpers bc I want to see Din whimper, im sure im forgetting stuff but oh well

Summary: Din chooses to put himself in danger by changing plans during a mission, and you decide it's about time he learns a lesson.

A/N: Hello lovely people! Hope you enjoy some subby Din for a while. I don't really have much to say this time, so just ignore my rambling I suppose. As always, requests are wide open and reposts, comments, and likes are very much appreciated! <3

***

“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” 

You’re absolutely furious. In all the years that you’ve been with Mando, he’s never made a mistake this detrimental. Not only did he almost lose the bounty with his random change of plan, but he also put himself right into the path of danger. This shouldn’t have been a dangerous mission, but somehow, Din found a way to make it life-threatening. 

The bounty the two of you were after had been hiding out in an old, abandoned ship on an old, abandoned planet. The main objective was to get the target outside of the ship to capture him in case there was any kind of fuel left in the corroding ship. 

You thought you were both stationed in your respective positions, the bait set to lead the bounty out, when you had noticed something was missing. Din. Din was missing. You curse under your breath as you stand up to get a better look at his empty post. Fucking bastard. 

You spot a gleam of beskar in your peripheral and turn to follow it. He’s too far away from you for you to yell at him or try to grab him, practically at the opening at the ship already. There's nothing for you to do but wait and see how everything plays out. You groan as you crouch back down behind the rock you had been hiding behind. 

Then you hear a deafeningly loud bang.

Your heart drops to your stomach as you shoot back up to your feet. 

“MANDO!” You hear yourself scream his name but you don’t remember making an attempt to do so. 

You immediately know what had happened as you get closer to the ruined ship. The first thing you see is the absolute wreckage laying around where the ship used to be, some of it still smoldering. The second thing you see is fucking Mando emerging from the smoke, target in hand. 

His armor is coated in a black film, likely from being so close to the tank when he fucking shot it and blew it up. You stand in place and let him walk to you, keeping a firm expression the entire time. You can tell the moment he sees the way you’re seething. His movement falters and he lowers his head ever so slightly, continuing toward you with his tail tucked. 

You wait until he is a few feet away from you before turning on your heel and starting the way back to the Crest. You know he’ll follow, so you don’t look back or say a word until you reach your shared ship.

When you climb aboard, you wordlessly signal for Mando to put the bounty in carbonite before you climb up to get the ship into the air. Once you’re out of the atmosphere, you climb back down the ladder to find Mando standing in the middle of the hull. 

He doesn’t say a word to you, just stands there awaiting your orders. Smart. You point to the bedroom and wait for him to start walking before you trail behind him, still fuming. He stops in front of the bed and watches you walk past him and into the closet. You throw a single word his way as you start digging for the restraints. 

“Strip.” 

He shudders at your tone but does as he’s told.

***

“Please, Cyar’ika, please!”

The sob that slips from his mouth is delicious even though it’s a bit muffled by his vocoder. You chuckle darkly as you look down at him, The Mandalorian, clad in nothing but his helm and the binders around his wrists and ankles that secure him to the corners of the bunk. 

His cock, throbbingly hard and flushed almost purple at the tip, jumps as you speak. The twitch is overstimulating enough to have his whole body try to curl into itself, but it doesn’t budge with the way he’s binded. 

“Aww, you poor, sweet boy,” you say with a mock sympathy as you fold your hand to rub your knuckles along the inside of his thigh. “Want to come so bad, don’t you?”

You both know the answer to that question. You’ve been going at this for hours now. You denied him at first, bringing him to the edge and then denying him as soon as you felt him about to bust. You lost count at about nine times—around the same time Din started to cry. After close to an hour of that, you did let him come, just like he wanted. But then you didn’t stop. 

The last hour and a half or so have been spent working him up just softly enough to get him hard and leaking again, and then edging him for a while before letting him come. Each time, he grows more sensitive, and each time, it becomes more fun for you. 

You know your panties are ruined with your arousal at this point, but you don’t pay too much attention to the fact. This is about Din right now, about teaching your Mandalorian a lesson.  You want to rip his helmet from his head so you can see the way his tears streak down his ruddy cheeks, so you can hear his whines for mercy without the modulator warping his voice. But you don’t, not yet at least. You want him to feel humiliated by the way he is being punished and violated while still in his beskar. 

He begs you to stop, but you know he doesn’t mean it. You have a specific code for these types of things—if he really wants to, all he has to do is say the word and you’d have him out of the binders and in your gentle embrace within seconds. He hasn’t said the word yet, though. He’s too stubborn to let you win completely, but that's okay, you don’t plan to break him. You just want to make him think that you will. 

He tilts his head back and whimpers in response to your taunting question and you take the opportunity to grab his cock. Din’s head comes back up with lightning speed as he shouts at the contact that causes his body to shake once again. Though he orgasms, not much trickles out. A small dribble of cum escapes the tip of his cock and leaks down his softening shaft. 

He’s a whining, whimpering mess beneath you, and you can’t get enough. 

“Think you’ve learned your lesson, sweet boy?” You pet his flaccid cock, making him sob as you ask him the question. He nods to the best of his ability and you tut down at him. “Use your words for me, baby.” 

“Y-yes, I’ve learned my lesson,” he tries to keep his voice unwavering but fails miserably. 

“Yes, what, honey?” 

“Yes m-ma’am, I’ve l-learned my lesson, I’m s-sorry.”

You hum in consideration for a moment before speaking again. “Good boy. I think you deserve a reward for that, don’t you?”

He nods and you figure you’ll accept it this time. 

“Okay, baby, I’ll be right back.”

With that, you sit up from where you had been perched on the side of the bed and stride into the closet. As soon as you go through the threshold, you hear Din let out a shuddering breath. Poor thing must be exhausted. You smile at the thought. He’s not done yet. 

You open a drawer and dig around until you find what you’re looking for. Once you have the wand in your grasp, you walk back out into the bedroom. You hold the object behind your back so he can’t see while you sit back in your original position. He’s quiet as he waits for you to speak. 

“Okay, here’s what’s going to happen,” you start, trying to hold your smile back. “I’m going to help you with a little toy, and you’re going to tell me why you’re so sorry.” You wait a moment to watch the way he tilts his head back in defeat. When you hear a small blubber of regret slip from his lips, you continue. 

“If you can give me the right answer, I’m going to be generous and let you come, and then we’ll be done. If you can’t�� well I guess you’ll just have to wait and see, pretty boy. How does that sound?” 

“S-sounds fair, ma’am.”

You nod at him and reach your hands up to his helmet. “Can I take this off, sweetie?” He hesitates but gives you a small nod after a moment. He doesn’t want you to see the mess of tears staining his face. 

You release the airlocks and lift up, slowly revealing his pouty lips, his prominent nose, his beautiful, begging eyes, and finally his soft, brown curls. He looks up at you slightly parted lips as you set his helmet to the side. 

“There’s my pretty boy,” you say before leaning down to place a gentle kiss to his lips. You don’t wait any longer to move down the bed to where his swollen cock lays against his stomach. You smirk and take the vibrator you picked out into your hand, flipping the switch to turn it onto a low setting. Din flinches at the sound. 

“Okay, honey, I want you to keep your eyes on me while you speak, just so I know you’re not lying to me.” A tear slides down his cheek and you can see him gulp down his anxiety. “Yes, ma’am,” he says after a moment.

Bending down, you place a kiss to the tip of his dick, and he tries his best to get away from the contact. When you look up, he’s staring at the ceiling. You lightly slap his cock, making him shout. “Look at me, baby, I’m not gonna tell you again.” 

Once his glossy eyes are on you, you bring the vibrator to the tip of his dick. He immediately bucks his hips away and starts to whimper and pant. “Now tell me, what did you do wrong today?” 

Mando is too busy gritting his teeth through the blinding overstimulation to answer your question, and you turn the wand up to a higher setting. It’s a fair warning, you think. He screams and thrashes in his restraints. 

“I’m sorry, Gods, I’m sorry, p-please!”

“Sorry for what?” 

“I’m sorry I went ag-ah-against the plan, Gods, I’m s-sorry,” he tries his best to ignore the way the sobs muddle his speech. 

You run the vibrator up and down his shaft before bringing it to the tip and applying pressure. 

“Good boy… Are you going to do it again?” 

“No, no, please!”

You smile and figure that he probably means it. If he ever pulled a stunt like that again, you’d have him chained to the bed for days. His beautiful brown eyes stay on you the whole time.

“Okay, baby, I believe you.” Even though he’s still squirming beneath you, he looks visibly more relaxed at the knowledge that this is almost over. “I want you to beg for it baby, beg me to let you come.” As humiliating as it is, he doesn’t have to be told twice. 

“Please let me come, p-please! I’ve been so good for you! Been s-so good!” 

You chuckle at the desperation in his voice as you lean down one more time. Keeping the vibrator on the tip of his cock, you turn it up to the max setting and take one of his balls into your mouth, sucking harshly. 

He lets out the loudest shout of the night as he comes. He shakes and sobs underneath you as you prolong it as best you can. You hear him speaking, but it’s so slurred through his cries that you’re not sure what he’s trying to say. 

Once he’s done orgasming, you lift up and turn the wand off before casting it to the side. When you look at his face, Din has his bottom lip between his teeth as he tries to keep his tears from falling from his closed eyes. Taking pity on him, you decide to wrap it up quickly. 

You look down at his belly, covered in his own cum. You take two fingers, being careful to avoid his poor cock, and swipe up a glob of it. Bringing it up to Din’s lips, you tell him to open up, and he does so, licking his own spend off of your fingers. 

“What do you say, baby?”

“T-thank you,” his words are breathless but filled with relief at the same time. You bring your forehead down to touch his before kissing him one more time. He gladly reciprocates, chasing your lips once you sit up again. 

You tell him to wait just a second as you work at the restraints. Once free, Mando lets his limbs fall into comfortable positions. You smooth his hair down in a soothing motion as you assure him he did good. You stay there with him for a moment before getting up again to get him a glass of water and a fresh set of sheets. You turn the shower on while you’re at it. 

Once he’s in the fresher, you change the sheets and grab some snacks for when he comes back. When he does, you’re waiting in the clean bed with open arms. He smiles warmly at you and crawls in, letting you wrap yourself around him. The two of you lay there like that for a while before you break the silence. 

“I hope you know I genuinely want you to be safer, baby, that wasn’t just for show.” You know he knows, you just want to be sure. 

“I know… I’m sorry I did what I did today.” You can hear the guilt in his voice and you turn to look into his eyes. 

“It’s okay, Din… I just…” you trail off as you try to find the right words. “I don’t think I could live with myself if something ever happened to you.” You can feel tears stinging your eyes at the thought of it. 

“And now, with the baby on the way…” you trail off, looking at your distended stomach. “ I don’t want our baby to grow up without a buir, Din.”

“I know, my sweet riduur,” he says before placing a soft kiss to your head. You can see the guilt in his eyes as he looks at you. “I never mean to put myself in the way of danger, I don’t know what I was thinking.” You stay silent, but he knows that you’ve accepted his apology. 

“And for the record,” he continues, shyly. “I enjoyed what you did tonight.” You look at him and can’t help but giggle at the smirk on his face. It’s not often you take charge in the bedroom, so you were glad to have the confirmation that he liked it just as much as you. 

“I love you, Din,” you say softly as you turn off the light and then snuggle into him. He laughs and hugs you closer. 

“I love you too, cyare.” 

[drawingdroid]

I believe in SMS. Sub Mando Supremacy.

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

Familiar & Unfamiliar

din djarin x female!reader

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

word count: 4,174

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The sooner, the better.

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you⏤Are you injured?” You asked.

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

That was not how you felt right now.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“M⏤Mando?” You gasped.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did I hurt you?” He blurted.

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

“Anything, mesh’la. Anything.”

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

“You want me to…kiss you?”

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

“That’s not dumb, mesh’la.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[redr0sewrites]

thinking about strong, inexperienced subs - nsfw thirst, minors dni

🥀Character(s): Jason Todd (DC), Sevika (Arcane), Cassian (ACOTAR), Din Djarin ( The Mandalorian)

currently thinking about big, strong, inexperienced subs who are so, so nervous about their size and body. they feel too big, too strong.. what if they hurt you- or worse, what if once you remove all of the layers between you both, your disgusted with them?

they're apprehensive about sleeping with you at first, but soon, their own curiosity overcomes them and they let lust guide them to where they are now- sitting on your bed with you between their legs, arms wrapped around their neck and tongues interlocked.

with little experience to guide them, they're clumsy and clueless as you crawl into their lap, praising their every move as you slowly begin to give them the pleasure they so desperately need. they want to be good for you so badly, keeping their large hands on your waist and only touching you when instructed.

their eyes are glued to how much smaller you look compared to them- you weren't dainty by any means, but their large figure practically engulfs you as you remove their undergarments. they almost forget how to breathe when you begin to tease them, and soon all fears of hurting you are forgot to as they practically melt into your touch.

their heads are thrown back, eyes screwed shut as they whimper from each ministration. they knew it would feel good to finally have you touch them, but not this good. your hands are smaller and much more experienced, and the feeling of your nimble fingers over their aching sex has them trembling already.

"w-wait... s'too much-" they're babbling, already so close to the edge, and with a few reassuring words, they're cumming all over themselves with a soft, whiny groan.

"that wasn't so bad now, was it?"

sorry this is so mid i am fighting for my life :) tomorrow is my first day of school/classes i cannot do this 🙂🙂🙂 like i actually can't please please please i do not want to go back 🙏

[corazondebeskar-reads]

where you've been

For @dindjarindiaries celebration honoring 5 years of The Mandalorian.

5 Years of the Mandalorian: Day 2 - Boots

din djarin x f!reader

words: 708

summary: helping din with a simple task turns a little devotional.

warnings: dom!din djarin, use of good girl, established relationship, riduur!din, married couple, din djarin takes the helmet off, prelude to smut but nothing explicit, boot worship, hints of foot fetish, to me this is [spoilers] but we'll call it a standalone drabble, no proofreading or anything tbh

dividers by @saradika-graphics

You don’t mean to. 

You don't mean to make a thing out of it. And yet, here you are. 

It becomes something of a routine. Mando comes back from a hunt and goes straight to the fresher. He leaves his boots at the foot of the ramp, when possible, so as not to track filth through the Crest. 

It started out innocently enough. You saw his sad, lonely boots sitting out in the rain, getting dirtier instead of being cleansed. 

Help us, they seemed to say. You imagine they’d have squeaky little voices. 

While it occurs to you later that this is a sign you’ve been alone too long on the ship, in the moment, it tugs at your heartstrings. Those poor, abandoned boots. It’s not their fault that they’re so dirty! 

Yeah, you’re definitely starting to lose it in your solitude. 

You tiptoe down the ramp in your bare feet, hopping quickly to avoid the frigid durasteel before it can adhere your delicate skin to itself. Boots snatched in your hands, you make your way back to the safety of the warm ship. 

Din’s boots have seen better days. Many, many, many better days. But you squint at them and think you kind of love them. The buttery leather melts under your fingers, and you can see the way they’d hold snugly to his broad, flat feet. 

They’re just boots, but they’re the boots that carry him home to you. The bounties change, the unforgiving planets never change, the life never changes. And these boots bring your husband home. 

So you take them to your station, a crate in the hull repurposed for the care and keeping of equipment, and you give them the spa day they so rightly deserve. You don’t mean for it to be anything more than it is, but the work is soothing.

In the end, they might as well be new. The bantha leather shines with the coat of protective oil you had carefully rubbed into the supple flesh. The grooves of his soles are free and clear of mud, stones, and detritus. A few careful stitches had pulled the lining back in place. 

You’re scrutinizing them when he comes out of the fresher, clad only in loose linen trousers. His damp hair clings to the back of his neck, and his eyes are sharp as he takes in the sight of you perched there.

He doesn’t need to ask. The curve of your shoulders, your plump bottom lip trapped between your teeth, and the steadiness of your breathing tell him everything he needs to know. He tips your head up to look at him with his knuckles, and your lashes flutter as you look up at him.

“Oh, cyare,” he murmurs. “You’ve gone and put yourself down, huh?” 

“Uh-huh,” is all you muster.

He clicks his tongue. "That's my job." But he takes the boot from your hands gently in his other hand. “Look at this. What a good girl, taking such good care of my things.”

The warmth in your chest spreads like a dust storm, and his thumb wanders over your lip, freeing it from your teeth. 

“You like that? Worshipping me that way?” 

If you were in your right mind, you’d marvel at the way his voice is so smooth and sultry, the rough rasp of it somehow silky as he wraps you in his sweet words. 

But you’re not in your right mind, and you’re far too distracted by what he’s said to notice how he said it. Worshipping. Yeah, that’s about right.

You blink up at him, dazed, and nod. “Yes, sir,” you say for good measure.

“That’s my girl,” he says with a smile. He sits on the crate. “Put them on me.”

Your breath catches on something in your chest, hooked by the bait he’s dangled. Boots in hand, you sink to your knees at his feet. One by one, slowly, savoring it, you slip the shoes onto his feet. 

It’s your turn to catch his breath. Unprompted, you give each a kiss to the top of the toe. His hand finds your head and holds you there as he marvels down at you, the lights framing him like some dark entity rising from the horizon. You’re captivated, utterly and irrevocably. 

And so is he.

title from "Little Devotional" by Taking Back Sunday (which is how you know it's a make it hurt verse story lmao)

[chaotic-iguana]

Acting out

(Din x f! reader one-shot)

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

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

Wordcount: 2.7k 

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

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

ao3 // masterlist.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[2kiran]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh.

He deserves this punishment.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

[acaciusbride]

I know it is common belief for some that din is an absolute pussy wrecker, and while this is fantastic, i cannot even begin to express my love for a reluctant, eager, inexperienced din. A din that hasnt seen tits since he was 25, let alone TOUCHED THEM.

[ Anon, this idea sent me absolutely feral, because I, too, love over eager, extremely inexperienced Din Djarin, because, and I cannot stress this enough, fuck yes. ]

NSFW below the cut, MDNI pls

He doesn’t mean to be so inexperienced; it’s not that he hasn’t had the opportunity, either. Even though he doesn’t show his face, there’s never been a shortage of people that he could have slept with.

It’s not that he isn’t interested- he is, after all, a man - it just seems to complicate things whenever he gets involved with anyone. Feels too much like breaking one or more of the rules of the Creed.

His religion teaches him to be selfless, to be honourable and not to get attached. Casual flings seem, to him, to go against those rules.

And besides. Relationships and sexual dalliances don’t put food on the table, don’t bring in money that he can send back to the Covert to ensure the foundlings are fed.

You were an unplanned variable. It took him months to admit to himself that he wanted you, let alone to verbalise that to you.

Luckily you’re patient. You didn’t quite understand the complex and seemingly strict Creed he lives by, but you were willing to wait.

The first time he touches you he’s nervous; he’s in his early forties now, and he hasn’t touched a woman since his late twenties. He doesn’t regret that choice, but he almost wishes he had a little more experience to go by.

It turns out experience isn’t everything; once he’s touching you, he goes on instinct, but he’s so needy and eager that he’s almost embarrassed by it.

“It’s okay to want me,” you have to remind him, “take your time.”

Only once he starts he can’t stop touching you, leaving heated, sloppy kisses all over your body, cautious when he slides two fingers inside you. He doesn’t know much, but he knows he’s big, doesn’t want to hurt you.

“Is this okay?” Is probably the most common sentence out of his mouth for the first half of things, and while some people might find it off putting, you find it endearing.

This is a man with a reputation, but he’s so soft and nervous with you that it makes your heart ache.

When he’s finally inside you it’s like a dam breaks, whatever he was holding back for almost twenty years falls apart and he’s a mess, running his mouth like a goddamn virgin all over again but he doesn’t care because you feel so good and tight around him and it’s the best fucking feeling in the goddamn world.

He’d have his face buried in your shoulder, in your hair, making sounds that aren’t quite moans and aren’t quite whimpers, and there’s nothing sexier than a man with his sort of power and physique being brought to his knees.

He wants to say all sort of filthy things but they just come out as whimpers instead, his lips warm against your ear as he ruts desperately into you; mostly it’s just variants of “oh, god,” and “fuck, feel so good,” and “such a tight little pussy, gonna make me cum…” before he just trails off and starts moaning into your ear instead.

He doesn’t last long, to be honest, and he’s embarrassed about how quickly he cums, whether he pulls out of you or not (likely not, because he doesn’t have time to react, he’s so lost in your body that he’s filling you before he even realises it).

You don’t mind, you’re halfway through reassuring him and stroking his hair when he realises he’s half - hard again, having a lot of pent up energy that he needs to get out.

Turns out inexperience doesn’t mean anything when he’s got the stamina he does. Which means there’s plenty of time to teach him.

[howaboutcastiel]

Out of This World (Din Djarin x Reader)

Summary: 18+ NSFW BE GONE CHILDREN. the title couldn’t be cringier, I know. You never get to leave Tatooine, which means your only chance to see the Mandalorian is when he visits your shop in Mos Espa. He seems to be finding more frequent reasons to stop by. 

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: Smut (Finally!) Oral sex (male receiving), thigh riding, dirty talk, praise kink. Goes kinda from 0 to 100 in terms of explicitness. Din is a beast in the streets and a babygirl in the sheets. He wants so hard to be a dom but… fate bows to no man. 

A/N: I haven’t written smut in months and I haven’t written for Din ever. Be gentle wit me 

~~~

There was a rumor in Mos Espa that Mando would be back on Tatooine by the week’s end. He stopped by every few weeks, sometimes to repair his ship, sometimes to take jobs in town, and sometimes just to drop off The Kid with Peli so he could run around the galaxy doing morally questionable things. Whatever the reason, he was bound to be reaching Mos Espa any time now. You hoped that he’d stick around for a few days, as you only ever got to see him when he was visiting. You hadn’t been off-world in years—and the price of fuel pretty much guaranteed you wouldn’t be flying anytime soon. 

So now, all there was to do was wait for him to show. The mandalorian almost always stopped by the Cantina to order a spotchka to-go and to scout for potential jobs to do on-world. When he did, you would be there waiting to serve him. Spotchka, that is. You were there to serve him spotchka. 

He always tipped you extra, and his gaze always lingered on you as you prepared his order. 

It was nearing the end of your shift for the night. The Cantina would be closing soon and you would be heading off to the shitty quarters that you could barely afford on a bartender’s salary. The lobby was nearly empty, save for a few drunkards you knew you’d have to kick out at closing. You were just about to lock the register when a familiar face—or more appropriately, familiar mask—entered your sight. The helmet was hard to mistake. 

“Heard you were around,” you called to him, not looking up from the bar. He didn’t reply, either. Instead, he walked silently to the stool closest to you. His gait was slower than usual. Sloppy. “The regular?”

The mandalorian’s voice was gruff and tired. “A plate of dustcrepes, too. If you have any.”

“Must’ve been a long day.” Mando never ordered food from the cantina, not even when he came in to grab a meal for the kid. You figured he must be too tired to cook himself something. “They’re not warm, by the way.”

“That’s fine,” he hummed. 

“It’ll just be a second.” You started preparing his order. As usual, his helmet tilted with every movement you made, following you around the bar as you poured his drink and fished the last of the day’s food out of the icebox. He didn’t seem to be hiding his ogling at all. Perhaps because it had been a long day and the effort was too much for him. 

You sat his bag and drink in front of him, collecting the credits he had placed on the table as payment. After that, you expected him to get up and leave. You knew by now that he didn’t eat or drink in front of people. He only remained in his seat, though, and his gaze continued to seer into you. At least, that’s what it felt like. 

“Will that be all for you?” You asked after a beat. You turned to deposit his credits in the register, hoping it would help distract you from the burning feeling. 

It only intensified, though, with his gruff reply. His silken, gravelly voice was quieter than normal. He didn’t have to shout over the other customers at this time of night. It wasn’t that his voice didn’t normally make you weak in the knees, but something about his tone had you ready to claw out of your vest, the heat overtaking you from head to toe. 

“Do you mind if I sit here for a while?”

You managed to stutter out an answer. “Not at all, but we’re closing soon.”

“I won’t be long,” he assured. 

You started making your rounds, cleaning tables and shooing away the stray customers who had nowhere better to be, but that you couldn’t allow to stay here any longer. The streets of Mos Espa were not a pleasant place to be after dark, and loiterers only invited trouble, especially in cantinas. The mandalorian, on the other hand, would probably serve to repel raiders instead of enticing them. His reputation had spread across the planet quickly, and no one at this point was stupid enough to provoke him. 

His voice interrupted the rhythmic sound of your cleaning once the other guests had left. He hadn’t moved to touch his food and, at this point, you weren’t entirely sure that he hadn’t fallen asleep at the bar with his head propped in his hand. He spoke clear as day, though, pulling you from your work trance. 

“It’s been a long time since I’ve been away from the kid,” he started. You were surprised by the evenness of his tone. “I thought I would be worried. I mean, I am worried, but it’s good to be away.”

He paused, looking up at you. “I don’t mean to bore you with my thoughts.”

“No, it’s okay,” you piped, maybe a little too quickly. “I was wondering where the kid was, anyway. Folks confide in me all the time about their day. That’s in the job description for a barkeep.”

He chuckled lightly, breathily. “I guess that would be true. Grogu is with Peli for the night. I told her I would come back once I finished my job, but it’s too late at night now. He’s probably asleep and I don’t want to wake him.”

“Grogu?”

“Oh, yeah.” He straightened up as you returned to the bar and took a seat next to him. “The kid’s name. That’s its own long story.”

“Well, it’s thoughtful of you to not want to wake him.” You poured yourself a glass of spotchka while he watched. “And it’s normal for parents to feel relieved when they have a night off.”

He scoffed. “It’s the first one of those I’ve had in a while. If it’s not taking care of him, it’s something for the guild or for throwing Imps off our trail.”

“Sounds like maybe it’s time for a break, then.” You took a swig of your drink. The mandalorian’s head tilted with yours, following your lips as they wrapped around the glass. 

“I’m not sure I have time for a vacation,” he countered. You shook your head. 

“But you do have tonight.”

He didn’t say anything after that, not until you’d finished your drink and stood to rinse the glass. The room was quiet enough that you swore you could hear his breathing up to the moment you started the faucet. Mando’s breaths were shallow and shaky, which you’d never imagined of him. You figured he was as much steel on the inside as he was on the outside. 

“I’ll get out of your hair,” he breathed. “I know you should have closed by now. Wouldn’t want your folks at home to be worried.”

You shook your head. “No folks at home to be worried.” 

“Well, still. It’s late—”

“I don’t mind,” you interjected. A sharp inhale rang through his modulator. You blushed at your impulsive interruption. 

The two of you were at a stalemate then. You were sure what you wanted at this point. You wanted under that beskar. Something about the mandalorian… you just couldn’t shake. Maybe it was his voice, as warm and velvety as it was. It probably also had to do with the power he normally exuded. The self-assuredness and authority that, now, seemed to have vanished into the air. Part of it was the mystery of it all. You’d seen him a hundred times, and yet you’d never laid eyes on an inch of his skin. You didn’t know anything about him. Not where he was from, not even what his name was. All you knew was that he was a strong man and a decent father. 

And that, behind that helmet and jet-black visor, he looked at you like a prize to be won.

You were right in his grasp, now, but he couldn’t seem to make a move. You weren’t even sure he could manage to breathe. He probably needed a little shove in the right direction. 

“You know, you’re right. It is getting pretty late. I wouldn’t mind a mandalorian walking me to my quarters, just to be sure I get home safe.”

He was frozen in place for a moment, then something shifted in him. The mandalorian lifted his head, grabbing his drink and food bag in one hand and hoisting himself off the barstool. He didn’t look in your direction as he made his way to the front door, only pausing when his hand met the handle and he realized you hadn’t moved an inch from your place behind the bar. 

“Well? You coming?”

The walk home was uneventful, aside from your pitiful attempts at small talk. Usually you were good at this—your entire job revolved around talking to people about their lives—but you found yourself choking up at even the simplest of questions. 

“Where are you and the kid headed after this? You staying on Tatooine for a while?”

“Oh,” he sighed, “I don’t know. Things are complicated right now. It just depends on what’s best for the kid.”

You laughed, mostly to yourself. “Little Grogu.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled with you. “Took some getting used to.”

You rounded the corner closest to your lodging. It occurred to you that Mando had ordered his food nearly an hour ago. 

“You must be starving by now,” you observed. He cleared his throat awkwardly. 

“I’m not really hungry at all,” he explained. The words hung hesitant on his lips. “I just wanted the company.”

There was a tight feeling in your chest. You were unsure of it. “Well, if you wanted a party, there’s a cantina near the town center that stays open late. They have music and escorts—”

“Not that kind of company,” he rasped. 

You reached the entrance of your home and the two of you stood in the doorway. Still at a stalemate. You wondered if maybe you were reading something into him that wasn’t really there.

“Thank you for walking me,” you praised. He didn’t budge, only giving a small nod. “Would you like to come in?”

This time, there was no hesitance in his voice, despite the words that came out. “I don’t want to intrude.” 

He knew exactly what he was doing. 

“You wouldn’t be.”

From the moment the door shut behind you, you were swept off your feet and into Mando’s grasp. His gloved hands held your thighs as your legs wrapped around him. The two of you made it from your front door to your bed in record time. 

You resisted the urge to go straight for his helmet. You didn’t know much about his religion, but you knew enough to never make the mistake of trying to take it off of him. Instead, your hand found its way to the nape of his neck, digging into the fabric underneath his beskar. He keened at the touch. 

“I’ve been thinking about this for months,” he purred. Mando lowered you gently on the bed until your back hit the mattress. “Coming into your bar, finding excuses to stay. I don’t even like spotchka that much.”

You chuckled, disbelieving of him. “It takes you that long to land a hook-up?”

He stood back, towering above you. The mandalorian reached to the inside of his wrist, unclasping the base of his glove before switching to the other. All of that apprehension from before was nowhere to be found. He more resembled the Mando you were used to. The one that, admittedly, you were a little intimidated by. The one that was the reason you knew your walk home with him was safe. 

“I don’t typically engage in those.” He pulled off the glove on his right hand, revealing his warm brown, freckled skin. The image was foreign to you, but the smooth movement of his fingers made you quickly forget that feeling. The other glove followed suit and he was straddling you before you realized. 

Your hand darted up to touch his. He flinched when the pad of your index finger made contact with his palm, and he didn’t dare move as the digit traced upward. Slowly, delicately, you laced your fingers into his. When your palm was flush with his, you looked back up at him for assurance. His chest shuddered, and the mandalorian pushed forward until your hand was pinned under his above your head. He bent down so his helmet was inches from your face. 

“Such a pretty thing,” he hummed. His body was barely touching you and already you felt the need to grind upward. “I wonder if she’s still as feisty here as she is at her bar.”

“I hope so,” you breathed. You couldn’t conceal the shudder that ran through you as a small hum of amusement rang out from his helmet. 

He brought his free hand up to your chin. “So do I. But if she is, that means we’re both in for a long night.”

The mandalorian rolled his hips down into yours, keening and running his fingertips across your lip. His touch was slow and gentle, like he was savoring the feeling of your skin. With your free hand, you moved to cup his backside, and we’re pleased to find that the fabric there left much less to the imagination than the beskar did. He traced your lips for a moment before centering his thumb between them. You let him press forward, parting your lips and sinking his thumb deep into your mouth. The taste of sweat on his skin sent shockwaves down between your legs. 

You closed your lips around the digit, licking and sucking with halfhearted effort. A shaky exhale rang in your ears and the ground down again. He moaned, low and choked, and dipped his head forward. The mandalorian withdrew his thumb from your mouth and let go of your hand. You tried not to chase his touch as it left you. 

He stood up, apparently catching his breath and smoothing his hands over his chest plate. Propping yourself up on your elbows, you watched as he figured out what the hell to do next. Finally, he huffed a defeated sigh that clued you into the fact that he probably hadn’t done anything like this in a while. 

“Tell me what you want, and I’ll give it to you.”

You couldn’t help the way your eyes widened in shock. You were fully expecting this man to take whatever he wanted from you, not to ask what you prefer. You hardly knew where to start. “Well, how much of that armor are you allowed to take off?”

He chuckled. “The beskar? None, technically, but the rest is fair game.”

“Excellent.” You stood up to face him, pushing his chest plate until the back of his knees met the one good chair in your apartment. As he sat, his hands shot to your waist and you slotted yourself into his lap. 

His hands were under your shirt before you even settled yourself. By now, an uncomfortable-looking tent was forming in his pants. You were more than grateful that there was no beskar codpiece on mandalorian armor. Fair game, you repeated to yourself. First, though, your fingers hooked underneath the base of his helmet, finding the edge of his scarf and pulling it down to reveal no more than an inch of his neck. Your mouth latched onto the small patch of skin and he nearly jumped from his seat. 

“Dank Ferrik,” he whined. “Don’t stop.”

You were amused by the sudden thought that you could paint his whole body purple and red without another soul knowing but the two of you. 

It was uncomfortable to sit on his lap when the beskar made a barrier between your heat and his thigh. The armor was cold against you, stealing the warmth from the single layer of fabric between it and your skin. You hissed and squeezed your thighs together and the mandalorian shivered at the pressure. His hands tightened on your waist, ready to guide your movements. 

“That’s it,” he purred into your ear. You rested your head against the helm. “Keep going, just like that.”

You pushed your hips downward and back, grinding your core down into the metal. The movement sent a shockwave up between your legs as the cool beskar pressed against your sensitive mound. You shivered, and he shivered again, too. A small, breathy whimper fell through your parted lips and he pulled you back to look at your face. 

“Good girl.”

His voice was gruffer in his lower range, broken apart by the hiss of the modulator and his quietness. You rolled your hips again. He let out a shaky breath and stroked his hands along your waist to the curve of your ass. The fabric bunched above his hands. His fingers pinched your skin, and you couldn’t help but lean into the feeling. 

You started a slow, steady rhythm, rolling your hips forward into the fabric at the waist of his pants, and rocking back into the beskar plate on his thigh. The pleasure was already building to a dangerous point and the tiny hums and whimpers you made began to increase in frequency. 

“You have no idea how sexy you look right now,” he practically whined. You fished desperately around the borders of his armor for a place to snake your hand underneath his shirt. All you wanted was to feel more of him. “If you keep sounding so pretty, you’re gonna make me finish without even touching me.”

The thought made you groan. “I want to touch you.”

“Let me help you then,” he beamed. He brought one hand to yours, guiding you down to the band of his pants. You ran your fingers along the skin just above it, making him shiver. Your palm found his happy trail just as a roll of your hips sent lighting up your spine. In spite of yourself, you dug your nails into his skin. He bucked his hips into nothing and a feral whine escaped him, higher in pitch than his normal voice. 

“I w—want,” he stuttered, “I want you to finish like this. I want to w-watch you.”

“Yes, sir,” you taunted and grinned. Somehow you knew he was rolling his eyes under the helmet. “And then we’ll take care of you.”

He started moving his hands against your hips, helping you grind against his thigh as your stamina faltered. It wasn’t long before you were right on the edge and your face found its way back to the crook of his neck. One of his hands darted up to your hair. 

His breath was heavy. “That’s it, baby. Doing so good.”

You hissed and groaned as every muscle in your body tensed up, electricity blossoming from your core all the way to your fingertips and back. You slumped forward into him, hand still firmly holding onto his stomach. The other arm was thrown haphazardly around his neck. It took a minute for you to come down. 

And the mandalorian was rock hard. He hadn’t been joking before about nearly coming undone while still in his trousers. Now, he was aching for relief. 

You hoisted yourself off of him, holding him down by his thighs as you settled on the ground between his legs. His head fell backward the moment he realized just what you were doing and the groan that escaped him was the most desperate noise that you’d heard from him all night. You let your hands trail his thighs for a while, then his stomach. Finally, your hand came to rest on the button of his pants. 

“You said fair game, right?” Wouldn’t want to ruin a filthy one-night stand by violating a man’s religion. 

“Fair game,” he assured in a choked voice. 

You undid the button. Your hand dipped below the band of his underwear and you could feel exactly what you’d gotten yourself into. For someone so starved for human touch, the mandalorian was well endowed for intimacy. He didn’t jerk as you took his shaft into your hand, but you were almost certain that he’d stopped breathing. 

“Can’t believe this is what you’ve been hiding under all that beskar,” you purred. “You’ve been holding out on me, Mando.”

He whimpered and laced his fingers in your hair. Slowly, you pulled him out from his boxers. “Din.”

“Hmm?” You spread his leaking arousal over the head of his cock. 

“My name is Din.”

Oh. “Oh. I didn’t realize you were allowed to say that.”

“I’m allowed. I just don’t.” But you just did, you thought. You peered up at him, obviously unable to read the look on his face. His breath was loud in the modulator, and quickening by the second. 

“Well, Din, I’m gonna try to make you feel good,” you stated. “But I have to warn you that I’m not really great at this.”

“You’ll do fine,” he countered. “More than fine.”

You didn’t know the Mando’a words that left his mouth as you ran your tongue from his base to his tip, but you could guess from the tone that they were some form of expletives. His grip tightened on your hair and his thighs flexed on either side of you. When your lips wrapped around his head, his words became familiar again. 

“I’m not going to last very long.” You sunk down as far as you could without gagging and Din’s whimper almost sounded more painful than pleasured. “I’m sorry. I don’t—I don’t do this often.”

“It’s okay,” you pulled off with a wet pop. There was humor in your voice, but it was gentle. “Just relax and enjoy it. You’re not hurting my feelings.”

“You feel so good,” he breathed. You resumed your movements, stroking with your hand the length that you couldn’t fit in your mouth. After a few passes over him and a half-successful attempt to take him to the hilt, you hollowed your cheeks and Din was done for. 

You elected to pull off of him, letting him watch as the strings of his load painted your tongue and lips. Your hand stroked him through his climax and, when the pleasure turned to overstimulation, he grabbed it away and laced your fingers together. 

After a while, he managed to catch his breath. “I feel like you were the one doing all the work. That doesn’t seem fair.”

“I agree,” you teased. He scoffed as you stood lazily to your feet. You tugged him toward the bed, which was much larger and softer than the cot he was used to. Your thumb brushed against the back of his hand. 

“You’ll have to make it up to me next time you’re in town.”

“Oh,” he chuckled. “I think I’ll stick around for a while.”

~

~

An author’s note: the reader only thinks it’s a one-night stand because she assumed that Din is the whore that he acts like. Turns out he’s just a hopeless romantic 🥰 which is preferential to her anyway. 

[its-quiet-colter]

Please Look at Me.

Din Djarin x Male!Reader

Word count: 2132

Warnings: NSFW (18+), sub!Din, frottage, praise and come eating but mostly pretty tame, fluff filled fic since its my first time writing in a few years.

| archive of our own | strawpage |

The gentle rumble of the Razor Crest’s engine is soft and soothing as you doze lightly in the cramped sleeping quarters. It’s barely big enough for one, let alone two, but it does the job. You’ve slept in far worse conditions, after all, the hard padding under your back could be considered a five star accommodation at this point.

Unable to sleep, you roll onto your side, facing away from the door. The light from the cargo bay was all too distracting but the thoughts swirling around your head are even more so. It’s been eight months since you teamed up with Din, helping him find bounty after bounty as you both try and keep prying eyes away from Grogu. You had to hand it to the Mandalorian. The kid was cute.

Yet it was fruitless to believe the only reason you stayed was Grogu, the child who had grown attached to you as much as he had to Din. It was a lie. You knew it and so did Din. You had felt it, brewing away for all these past months traveling together. The way you held his silence, the gaze you felt from underneath his helmet. Din’s saved your life countless times as you’ve saved his. There’s trust there. And something far deeper that neither of you dare bring to the surface.

You never talked about it when stray hands would wander at some lonely hour of the night, pressed against each other in the tight cabin. You didn’t talk about it when your hand slid into Din’s pants to stroke his cock, nor when his own would grasp the back of your shirt as he rutted into your palm. Panting and whimpering under his helmet. And certainly neither of you talked about it in the cockpit in the mornings after.

It was nice, whatever it was. Having trust in someone is a privilege in the New Republic, where lawlessness and betrayal are as common as they were in the days of the Empire. If not more. But having Din’s trust, and your heated embrace, however fleeting and complicated they may be, made a warm feeling bubble in your chest. Not talking about your relationship kept it from being real, and the moment it became real you knew Din would flee. Put his walls up, and push you away just as you had seen him do to others. Din trusted you and like hell were you letting that go.

Not once have you asked to take off his helmet, you accepted his creed long ago when you had first met him. But you can also feel that he wears it for comfort. An armor of beskar, keeping himself distant as much as it distances others. Yet you’ve seen Din’s fingers twitch sometimes, the urge to take it off, to reveal himself to you. He’s not there yet, and perhaps he never will be. And that’s okay, you can still hold him with his helmet on.

The distant sound of the ship’s cargo doors opening drags you from your thoughts, as does the soft thud of boots ringing along the metal floor as they edge closer to the quarters you’re resting in. Din’s breath crackles through the speaker of his helmet, muffled and slightly ragged. He was out chasing a bounty all day, but seldom does he return to the ship with such shallow breathing. Is something wrong? You think.

You hear the sound of Beskar hitting the floor, as he strips away his armor piece by piece, keeping it close by. Always alert, always ready for when the next attack comes. 

The hard mattress dips under your combined weight as Din lays down beside you. His breathing still labored. You can’t help but feel something is wrong, and so you go to turn around, to face him but his voice rings out first.

“No… don’t turn around.” He says softly and you pause. Din’s voice is so soft without his helmet. Wait, what? He took his helmet off?

You feel Din’s breath against your back, he’s panting softly as his nose brushes against your shoulder blade. His hair, short and scruffy, tickles the taught muscles of your back and you can feel his soft whimper. The back of his fingers gently nudge your hip, feeling your soft warm skin exposed above the waistline of your pants. The touch is so gentle, reverent even. Despite you facing the wall the moment is far more intimate than the casual reach around you’ve given each other.

“Are you okay…?” You whisper into the room, unsure if breaking the silence is such a good idea. You feel Din tense behind you, his cheek all but nuzzled into your shoulder blade as he spoons himself behind you. His stubble doesn’t go unnoticed, the brush of it against you. Is that a mustache? 

Din’s heartbeat is rapid as you feel him nod against your back, a soft quiet noise escaping him. “Mh.” he mumbles. 

His hands slide around to your front, resting over your chest as he draws himself closer to you. His chest pressed against your back. You hear another soft whimper slipping when your hand cups over his and tangles your fingers together.

“Where’s the kid?” Din asks, wanting and needing a distraction from the anxiety of the situation. Almost like he’s ashamed.

“Upstairs, sleeping.” Your words are whispered softly as your thumb brushes over his knuckles. “Had to swaddle him in one of your shirts just to get him to sleep, he missed you.”

Your hand is squeezed, almost like Din’s holding onto you for comfort. A silent way of saying thank you for taking care of Grogu. With a soft shuffle around, Din brings your legs to be tangled together and you bring your joined hands up to kiss over Din’s calloused fingers. “I missed you too.” You whisper softly.

Din’s soft shudder returns, his breathing unsteady. You instantly think you’ve said the wrong thing, perhaps startled him or caused more angst. But then you feel it. The slight tremble in his hands, the rustling as his legs shuffle on the hard mattress behind you, and the slight jut to his hips as his clothed erection presses against your thigh.

The whine he lets out makes heat pool in your stomach, and you squeeze his hand again as he tries to recoil away. Without his helmet he feels so vulnerable, so ashamed of his arousal, even if all you can see is the old worn metal wall of Razor Crest’s sleeping pod.

“It’s okay, Din.” You whisper as you feel him shuffle behind you, and the soft sounds of him stroking himself with his free hand are muffled by the panting moans he makes.

“I’m sorry.” Din whispers softly, his face buried against your back and you shake your head. “It’s okay, you’re alright.” you repeat again in a slow and soothing manner as he pleasures himself. 

Your own arousal makes you groan in frustration, wanting so bad to turn around but you refrain. The image of Din’s hand wrapped around his own cock, the twitch of his hips, the way his fingers squeeze a ring around his base to try and stave off an orgasm that might otherwise ruin this precious moment. But the image of him, Din. what he must look like, a flush to his cheeks, hair stuck down from sweat, both helmet and arousal induced. You already know he’s got facial hair, perhaps a scar or two; although you doubt it with how strong that armor is of his.

God, I bet he’s beautiful. You think.

“Please, cyar’ika.” Din all but mewls, desperate and wanting as his face is buried against your shoulder blade, kissing the soft skin. The sound of his desperate begging is all you need for what little resolve you had to crack.

Shifting around the bed, you turn around to face him. Din’s cheeks are flush, his lips parted slightly around a moan as his cock twitches under his own palm, the vulnerability causing the reaction. Your eyes fall to his soft brown eyes, so dark and blown wide as he squirms under your gaze. 

“Din…” You whisper in awe, the pad of your thumb coming up to brush against the stubble of his cheek. Almost like you can’t believe the sight of the man before you, so beautiful and laid out before you. He nods silently, looking at you as his chest rises and falls and his hands rest on your shoulders. It’s all the permission you need to lean down and kiss him.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, cradling his head as you both indulge in months worth of tension, of trust, of love. Din mewls against your lips and you groan against his, nipping his bottom lip before the kiss is deepend. He shifts and you get the memo, moving with him as Din lays on his back and pulls you on top of him. And all of a sudden the cabin around you feels more warm and closed in than usual.

Din’s legs wrap around your waist, his fingers sliding through your hair to keep your mouths locked together in a passionate yet tender kiss. All the while you try to undo your pants enough to push the offending fabric around to your thighs. Your own dick hard and leaking at the feeling of having the Din held underneath you.

He moans into your mouth, his hips jerking up as you take both of your cock’s in one hand, stroking and thrusting against one another. The heat of Din against you, the way he leaks precum as you thumb his tip, his head falling to the side to let out a guttural moan is enough to have heat pooling low in your gut. You thrust against him, your fist tight around the both of you as you get lost in each other.

With Din’s head tilted to the side, you kiss his exposed neck, feeling the way he gulps and gasps as he arches up into your hand. His fingers cling to your back, holding you close as you watch him start to tense up. He’s close. Legs tighten around your waist as his back arches with a moan.

“Mh… ‘m close… please!” Din moans aloud, looking up at you with half lidded eyes. Pleading.

Your hand stops, letting go of your own dick to focus on stroking Din’s alone. He whimpers as you settle over him, chests flushed together so you can squeeze his cock and whisper against his ear. “Let go, Din. I've got you, cyar’ika.” 

It’s all the permission he needs, and you watch as he tenses, ropes of cum coating your fist and his own stomach as Din comes hard. Whimpering as you murmur sweet praises in his ear and press kisses to his hair.

Din is panting, almost soaking up the warm glow of the aftermath, his brown eyes glazed over. You sit up, straddling him as much as you can in the cramped cabin as you take yourself in hand and begin to stroke yourself.

“You did so well..” You praise him gently, looking down at Din with so much affection and love despite your arousal and absolute need to come. “Fuck. you’re so beautiful, Din. So pretty.” 

You thrust into your own hand, feeling your orgasm begin to bubble over at the mere fact you’re looking at the Mandalorian that had stolen your heart months ago. With a hand pressed to his chest, your eyes are unable to look away to his flushed, disheveled state. Looking back at you is the same look of love and adoration reflected in Din’s eyes and your orgasm hits, painting his chest and chin in your cum.

As you both catch your breath, Din takes your hand, bringing it to his mouth as he licks the mess off of your hand. He presses a gentle kiss to your palm, never looking away as he does so, and it almost stirs you enough for another round.

Your back hits the mattress and Din curls up with his head on your chest, neither of you looking to break the silence and the peace of the moment. He had taken his helmet off, and in the aftermath as he began to calm down, you can see the gears turning in his head.

You probably won’t talk about this in the morning, but it doesn’t stop you pressing a kiss to his head, your nose buried in his hair. Din’s own nose brushes against your collarbone and he presses a soft kiss to your skin. His eyes flutter shut and he starts to doze off. The physical touch is a silent promise to one another. And that’s more than enough for you.

[pedroshotwifey]

Din One Shots

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Requested Din Fics

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Say You're Sorry Din Djarin x f!reader - Din just doesn't think you're sorry enough 🤷🏼‍♀ (960)

Din Series

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[a-coffee-addict-613]

Din Djarin x Reader - Drabble

a.n : this is my first ever fic post on here, hope you like it. maybe i'll write the rest of this story, maybe not. who knows ? not me.

content warnings : SMUT, sub!din, handjob

"Kriff !", he breathed out as they both laid back on the sheets, their skin glistening with sweat, heaving breaths mixing as they kissed.

"Tell me how it feels Din, to have your hand wrapped around your own cock as I watch ? You love it, don't you, I know you do, I can see it on your face, don't even try to deny it, meshla."

It was hypnotizing, the way his hand glided along the tanned skin of his cock, the contrast it was with his red tip, already leaking all over him. The poor thing was just so desperate to cum, but he needed more, he needed her. Now that he knew what it felt like, the feeling of her silken walls wrapped around him, squeezing him, the way her moans made shivers travel along his spine each time he hit that one spot, deep inside her, his own hand was not enough, not when she was laying next to him, her naked body glued to his side. He could feel her sleek on his thigh, a reminder of what he desired but couldn't have. He tried closing his eyes, to imagine it in his mind, hoping, praying that it would be enough for him to reach the ecstasy he was craving. He began to go faster, feeling the knot in his stomach tighten, his lips fell open, whimpers falling from them like a river. And she leaned over, bringing her own lips to his, drinking from them as if they were her salvation. His pleasure only continued to rise, now that she was touching in some way, his hips rose up to meet his fist, he was so close, simply so close.

"Stop", she whispered against his lips as she pulled back from their heated kiss, a devilish smile apparent on her lips.

"No.. please, cyare..", he begged, he no longer cared, this was no longer the tough mandalorian or the strong bounty hunter, he was reduced to a desperate man, whose only care in the world at this very moment was only the orgasm he had at the tip of his fingers, only slightly out of reach.

"I said stop." She repeat firmly this time, her voice echoing around the metal walls of the small room he called their bedroom. She wrapped her hand around his wrist, the firm grip reminding him of what he promised, a promise to fully surrender to her. And so he stopped, his whole body shaking with frustration, his chest falling and rising rapidly, heaving with need.

She waited, patiently for his breathing to slow, and then she guided his fist to start moving again slowly around his length. She leaned down his body, brought her lips close to the weeping tip, so close he could feel the ghost of her lips, and she let her spit coat him and his hand, making it easier for it to glide along. And so he began his ascend again, the rise of pleasure building up in his body, that familiar knot in his stomach tightening.

[odetodilfs]

If I were to make a NSFW alphabet for a Pedro Pascal character which one would y'all choose?

[bi-geeky-fanboy]

New pwp ✌️

[chaotic-iguana]

should i post the pegging din fic rotting in drafts for 5 months or no lads

[howaboutcastiel]

[18+] Mandalorian headcanons… very NSFW

but I’m sorry it would be so goddamn easy to fuck with a Sub!Din Djarin because the suit hides *everything.* You could make him wear a collar underneath his lining. You could write things on his skin (perhaps “property of ___”) and only you and him would know it was there. You could make him wear lingerie. Make him wear nipple clamps. You could make him wear a plug and control the settings with a remote—he would have to be still and quiet so one would know it was there. You’d make him go about business as usual.

Or, if you don’t want him to be quiet, you get to hear those little whimpers and groans and pleas through his modulator…

Make him keep the helmet on during sex, but nothing else. Even though you’re married or he’s an apostate or whatever the reason is that he CAN take the helmet off. You make him wear it so he can’t look at you and you humiliate him by not even seeing his face as you use him to get off.

Or the opposite. Full armor, no helmet. Just sticking your hand in his pants and watching him blush and whine as you work him over and make him cum in the armor—

Make him wear a gag underneath the helmet—ball gag, ring gag, even just your panties stuffed in his mouth—and see how long he can go before people realize he’s being quieter than usual.

Just so much ammunition. I know everyone wants to get dommed by Din Djarin but… he’s just such prime sub material. My babygirl. My good boy. My pretty boy.