#the mandolorian x reader smut

[beansnsoup]

Hey yall, asking for a friend, has anyone happend to have read a smut fic abt mando where the reader only packs clothes for a hot area but their ship crashes in a more colder area, so when they're going to sleep that night he like holds her but then it turns smutty, help me, asking for a friend.

[oscarisaacsspit]

i’ll be like “need him so bad it makes me stupid” and it’s this guy:

[crumbledcastle28]

Din Djarin: Come and Get Me

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

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: After a job leaves you trapped, you realize how much you have come to trust the legendary Mandalorian.

Excerpt: “Please don’t cry,” you heard him whisper, “please don’t cry, Y/N.”

“Come and get me,” you begged, “Din, please come and get me.”

“The house is likely on total lockdown,” he said. “There’s no way for me to get in.”

This only made you sob harder.

“Please, Din,” you said through gasps of air, “please don’t leave me alone.”

“I won’t leave you alone,” he said. It sounded like he was running now. “Not ever, you understand me?”

Warnings: claustrophobia, panicking, panic attack, crying, so much banter, dinny boy gets *stern, * but only because he is in love hehe.

A/N: happy dincember my people :)

Pedro Masterlist

All my writing

(gif credit to pinterest)

“Why are droids always so angry?”

A deep sigh arose through your comlink.

“Because everyone is always pushing their buttons.”

Silence.

“You’re holding back your laughter.”

“That is absolutely not what is happening,” Din responded, voiced husked with his ever-present exhaustion.

“I can feel it,” you countered. “You are actively killing braincells trying to hold it back.”

“That is not what is killing my braincells,” Din responded, and you gave a dry chuckle back.

“Just get the credits and get out,” Din said, “we have other jobs to do.”

“Yes sir,” you responded sarcastically, pulling down your mask. It was a soft obsidian fabric that covered everything but your eyes.

“Need I remind you it is your fault we are here in the first place?” Din asked, knowing it would push your own button.

Greef had known you since you were a kid, your parents always calling him a “close family friend.” In actuality, your parents were his most profitable bounty hunters, and they had worked with him until they physically couldn’t anymore.

Without hesitation, choosing you take their place.

They had trained you from birth, ingraining into you the strength, cleverness, patience, persistence, and of course the wit needed to be an adequate replacement.

In Greef’s own words, you were “more than adequate.”

You worked for him for over a decade before finally meeting the infamous Mandalorian. His name had been circling for a while before you met him, allowing him to climb the ladder of Greef’s good graces (a particularly slippery ladder, in your opinion), as well as the ladder of wealth. You didn’t mind at first, sticking to the lot of bounties Greef would assign you every month, and minding your business.

That was until this Mandalorian started getting your pick of the lot.

“He’s just as good as you are,” Greef had said to you. “Your skill sets are incredibly complimentary. It is best for me financially to have you both going at once.”

You scoffed into your drink. “Give me a break, smartass. Next thing I know it will ‘best for you financially’ to have us working together.”

“It was a joke, asshole,” you responded to Din. “I’ll admit, not one of my best.”

Din sighed and remained silent. After two dozen jobs together, he had learned how old that jab was becoming.

“Going in now,” you said quietly, pulling out your gun and – as quietly as you could – shooting through the lock on the front door of what had to have been the biggest house you had ever seen. The outside was made with some rare limestone that glimmered in the moonlight which, in your opinion, literally shouted “rob me.” The owners of this house had tricked Greef, running off with the sum of money he had owed you and Din for a previous job (quite convenient, if you said so yourself). Greef agreed to pay you and Din triple your original salary if you got it back for him.

And here you were.

The door squeaked on its hinges as you opened it, revealing a pitch-black living area. You took one step inside, and as you did, a generator must have kicked on, because the room was instantly lit up. You gasped, stepping back in fear of a possible alarm, but as you waited a few seconds, there was no such thing.

“You okay?” Din asked quietly. If you weren’t shitting your pants, you might have teased him for seeming like he actually cared.

“Yeah,” you responded, winded. “Yeah. Fine.”

You looked around the room, jaw falling open slowly as you did. It might as well have been a museum. Paintings, vases, chandeliers, stones, and jewels. You could tell one thing and one thing only.

Whoever these people were, they were fucking loaded.

“Hey, Din,” you asked.

“Yeah?”

“Did Greef say anything about being allowed to steal anything else?”

“Don’t even think about it.”

“Got it,” you said, and moved further into the house.

“Greef paid some gungan to have dinner with them, so there shouldn’t be anyone in the house.”

“I was at the meeting for this job, Din.”

“I know,” he said, “Just checking.”

His voice was laced with an undertone of…hurt. You didn’t have time to think about that.

“I’m headed to the master bedroom,” you said, weaving your way through objects worth more than you would ever see in ten lifetimes. “I’ll let you know when I find the box.”

“Alright,” Din responded, and you carried on.

You circled the first floor of the house, hemming and hawing at what seemed to be an endless supply of riches.

“Are we focused, Y/N?”

“Lazer,” you responded after almost touching the shiniest blue stone you had ever seen. “Nothing on the first floor.”

“Okay,” Din responded. “How-how you holding up?”

Your eyebrows wrinkled together. “Fine. How about you?”

“I’m good,” he said softly. “Just now realizing we have never done a job like this before. Me only hearing you through the comlink. I’m used to being next to you.”

“Oh, the poor Mandalorian, all alone in the desert, cursed with the job of keeping watch. You missing me big guy?”

“Just missing being faster than you,” he jabbed. “It’s good for my ego.”

“Har har,” you responded, opening the first door you found at the top of the stairs. “You can’t deny I give you a run for your money though.”

“You sure do,” he said, once again laced with emotion. What the fuck was with him?

And why did you keep noticing?

You opened the door and were welcomed by what had to have been the biggest bed you had ever seen in your life. It took up half the room, with the rest of it being looted with more treasures, including plants, shelves of books, and…

…a music box.

“Bingo,” you said.

“What does that mean?”

“It’s a game you play for fun,” you responded. “You wouldn’t be familiar with the concept.”

“Very original.”

“I’ll be here all night,” you said with a smirk, and walked to the box. You pulled it off the shelf delicately, feeling the weight of credits in the bottom. You laughed happily, unable to hold it in.

Din laughed too. He understood immediately.

You felt for the seal on the front and began to pull it open carefully. You got it about halfway open before it immediately shut, snapping your fingers into it.

“Mother –” you said, pulling your fingers out and holding them to your chest.

“You okay?” Din asked quickly, almost as soon as the word left your mouth.

“Yeah,” you said, flexing your fingers. You laughed lightly. “I think this house may be out to get me.”

As if you spoke it into existence, all the lights in the house suddenly shut down, soaking you in darkness. Strobe lights of red began to pulse on the ceiling, the door to the bedroom shut automatically, and an ear-piercing alarm permeated the room.

You were suddenly unmoving.

“Y/N?” Din asked, his voice a whisper above the alarms. “Y/N, what is that?”

The box fell from your grip.

“Din…” you said, chest constricting, muscles locking, brain failing. “Din…”

“What’s going on?”

You started shaking your head, making your way to the door slowly. You jiggled the doorknob, then pulled on it, then yanked on it, then threw your body into it.

It was no use. You were locked in from the outside.

“Din, I –” your voice cracked with a sob. “Din, I’m stuck.”

“What do you mean?” He sounded like he was walking.

“I’m-I’m trapped,” you said, sobs now fully escaping from your mouth. “Din I’m trapped. They know I’m here. They’re gonna…”

You couldn’t finish your sentence, hand cupping your mouth as you began to hyperventilate, because suddenly, you were a child again. Put up against one of your parents’ countless tests. Locked in a basement, or a ship, or your own room, forced to find a way out, told that in the real world, if you couldn’t find a way out, you would likely be killed.

You could never pasts their tests. Never.

“Din, they’re gonna kill me.”

“Shut up,” he said firmly. It sounded like he was moving faster. “You’re not gonna die.”

His tone was unconvincing.

“Din,” you cried, tears staining the fabric covering your face, snot soaking through it. Panic was seeping itself into your bones. “Din, what do I do? What do I do?”

“You’ve gotta find a way out.”

“I can’t,” you wheezed, body sliding down the door and onto the floor, the alarms and the red overstimulating your every nerve. “I can’t Din. It’s so loud,”

“Please don’t cry,” you heard him whisper, “please don’t cry, Y/N.”

“Come and get me,” you begged, “Din, please come and get me.”

“The house is likely on total lockdown,” he said. “There’s no way for me to get in.”

This only made you sob harder.

“Please, Din,” you said through gasps of air, “please don’t leave me alone.”

“I won’t leave you alone,” he said. It sounded like he was running now. “Not ever, you understand me?”

You nodded, now plugging your ears, and closing your eyes, rocking yourself back and forth subconsciously.

“I’m going to get you out of there,” he said, his voice suddenly nasally. “I swear to the maker I’m going to get you out of there. I just need your help, okay?”

You tried your best to gather breath. “Okay. Okay.”

“Okay,” he said. “I need you to see if there are any windows in the room. Can you do that for me?”

You swallowed, standing on shaking legs, ears still plugged. You squinted as you walked slowly, finally reaching a wall. You then felt the wall with one hand and walked forward until you felt something that resembled glass.

“I-I found one.”

“Good,” he said, sounding peculiarly winded. “Now, I’m going to need you to break it.”

You sobbed once more. “How?”

“Anything. Shoot at it, throw things at it, the fucking music box for all I care. Anything.”

You swallowed again, breathing in as deep of a breath as you could, before pulling out your gun. You felt the glass once again, and slowly backed away from it. You continued to release faint cries as you did, holding up your gun with quivering fingers, before letting blasts fly.

You heard some cracks as they landed against the glass. Once you halted your firing, you made your way back over to it, and realized they weren’t nearly enough.

“I’m going to have to kick it,” you said, some semblance of power returning into your voice.

Din didn’t respond.

You backed away again, breaths still rapid and voice still raw. But you gave that piece of fucking glass your all.

Your foot went right through it, cutting shards into your calf and ankle.

You grunted, falling back into the room.

“You get it?” Din asked, panting.

“Yeah,” you said, clutching your leg. “Yeah, I got it.”

“Good. Now stand up.”

You did.

“Walk to the window.”

You did.

“And jump.”

“What?”

“Jump now.”

It was in that moment that you realized that you truly, unequivocally, deeply trusted the Mandalorian. Because you jumped into the dark, cold night, and he caught you, mid-air.

You gasped as you landed in his arms, watching as the ground beneath you whizzed by, eyelids pealed back in awe.

A smooth, gloved hand framed your cheek and pulled your vision upwards, locking it into his visor.

You stared at him, the remnants of tears against the cold wind freezing your face, and yet his hand was the true culprit of your goosebumps.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly. The flames from his jet pack illuminating his armor in golds and reds.

You nodded. “I’m okay.”

He nodded, diverting his gaze to stare forward into the night, but keeping his hand pressed against your face.

You would say it was the shock, or the trauma, or the adrenaline pumping through your veins. In reality, all you wanted was comfort – his comfort. You couldn’t stop yourself.

You rested your forehead against the side of his visor and closed your eyes, scooting your body as close to his as possible as the two of you shot through the sky.

“Thank you, Din,” you said, tears escaping you once more. “Thank you.”

Din audibly swallowed, then removed his hand from your cheek and used it to remove your mask, before sliding his hand into the hair at the back of your neck.

“I swore to you I’d get you out of there,” he said, his voice crackly and weak. “I don’t break promises.”

You nodded against his visor, clutching desperately onto the fabric around his neck. He smelled of sweat, metal, and home.

“I’ve got you now,” he whispered. “I’ve got you.”

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[psyzook]

Everyone is so thirsty over Din Djarin, and because of it there is so. much. smut fanfiction. And I’m absolutely astounded by it.

You’re telling me this guy is feral and horny? I don’t believe it. He is a anxious, touch-starved, gentleman who has no idea how to express emotion. He’s the nervousness of Jenna Marbles’s dog, Kermit, personified and in a tin can.

[misserabella]

comin in hot with a twt link! (Dont know if i did wrong or not im new to these ^^) Idk if you write for din djarin or not but i can just imagine him doing this as he takes out his frustrations on your pussy cause the bounty went sideways. but this could also be seen as joel if a smuggling deal went wrong. Your pick! <3 much love!!

https://twitter.com/OrgasmGifs/status/1619378756648574978?t=XxqL71XHdg891aZOifJB5g&s=19

oh lord, this is pure filth. 😭😮‍💨

din djarin x fem reader!

minors don’t interact, +18 content!

cw; rough sex, choking, manhandling, dirty talking, degradation, praising, piv sex, unprotected sex, cream pie, fingering, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, cockwarming, dom! din x sub! reader, nipple playing, name calling (whore, slut…), …

“fuck.” your eyes shot open when you heard something crashing on the salon, along with the voice of who you recognized was din, your boyfriend.

your eyes still felt heavy with sleep, but your mind was slowly coming alive as you got up from bed.

“din?” you called out for him, he was giving you his back, armor still on except for his helmet—which he had thrown across the room—. he looked exhausted, but mostly of all exasperated, furious.

he didn’t seem to have heard you, and you stepped closer. “din, what’s-“ but before you knew it, there was a hand pinning your wrists to the wall behind your back and another surrounding your neck. from your lips fell a gasp that got caught in between his as he furiously kissed you. he groaned, pushing you harder against the wall, all air leaving your lungs. he was kissing you as if you were the last thing he could hold onto.

“din, what’s going-” you moaned when his clothed thigh pushed in between your naked ones, roughly pressing against your panties and your cunt. your hands messed with his hair and tugged when he freed your wrists and pulled your shirt upwards ‘till your bare chest was exposed for him to lick and suck onto.

“shut the fuck up.” he ordered, quieting you, letting you know what you needed to do, and that was to close your mouth and take what he gave you. and if what he needed to gave you was his anger, his frustration, and stress. you will take it.

you whimpered when his lips sucked on your nipple, the hand that now stood free grabbing at your hip to grind you on his thigh, making you sigh and whine, your panties growing wetter and wetter at his roughness.

“din…” you begged, and he groaned on your chest, sucking bruises that now beautifully decorated your perfect tits.

in a swift motion he was manhandling you with his strong arms, pulling you back into your room and pinned you onto the bed under his weight. it was rough, the way he kissed you, the way he pulled off your shirt, the way his hands were digging on your skin. but it hurt so good…

“fuck.” he muttered against your nipples when a high pitched and pornographic moan left your lips as his fingers sneaked inside your panties and met your wet core, his fingertips dripping on you.

your hips jolted against his touch when he teased you, his fingers dipping on your slick and merely brushing your clit, making your whole body shake in need. need for him.

“din please…” you begged, and he smirked.

“what a good girl…” he muttered against your neck as his fingertips pressed against your clit, making sparks fill your vision. “such good manners…” you whimpered, the praise only making you eager for him, needier. “being so good to me.” you screamed when he suddenly plunged two of his thick fingers inside of you, immediately finding your g spot. you couldn’t help but arch your bag, your eyes shutting close as he started to fuck them in and out of you. “listen to her…” he smirked, his dick painful hard in between his thighs at the sounds your cunt was making for him, sticky and perfectly ready for him to fuck into. “so ready for me…” you moaned, your cheeks burning due to the sounds that your arousal surrounding his fingers made.

“din…” you sighed his name, your hips rocking onto his fingers, needing him deeper. needing him to go harder, treat you badly, love you in that harsh way that made your mind reel… you were whimpering as he split you open with his fingers, brushing your g spot with every curl of his digits. it was needy, and harsh, it almost hurt, but you couldn’t possibly need him anymore than this. your whole body was like a magnet begging for his touch, needing him to touch you.

his patience seemed to be running out as he saw you fall apart, his cock pressed against your thigh as he grasped at your tits, tugging at the nipples just like he knew you liked.

the air in your lungs disappeared when in a quick flip he had down on your stomach, his rough hand landing a harsh spank to your ass, making you jolt and hiss.

in between the dizziness and hunger that enveloped you, you heard him push down his pants and underwear, too far gone to even care about the fact that you were beautifully naked under him and he was still on his goddamn armor, completely dressed.

you whined as one of his hands pulled you upwards so your ass would be sticking out for him, your glistening pussy begging for attention, your slick coating your mound and your thighs. you were soaking wet, drowning in desire.

he didn’t even tease you, didn’t even wait for you to get adjusted to his size before he was fucking you open with his huge cock. his tip brushed your cervix with every harsh thrust and you were withering and dissolving under his touch.

“fuck.” he groaned, his whole body shaking at the feeling of your cunt tightening around him and sucking him in every time he’d try and pull out just to thrust back in. it was as if your body was begging for him to stay inside, to fuck you full of him, for him to not go. “so good…” his pace spiked up, and your hands were holding onto your sheets for dear life, your body shaking with every snap of his hips against your ass. his balls met your cunt with every one of them, getting soaked on you. they felt so heavy… so full and ready to empty themselves in you… “you’re always so fucking good to me, pussy so ready to be filled up, huh?” he teased, and you whimpered as your walls tightened around him, making him groan. “such a fucking slut for dick. look at you…, already so close to cumming all over my cock…”

“din!” you cried out when his dick reached that deep spot inside of you that no one had ever been able to reach before, making your sight go blank.

“you gonna cum, honey? gonna cum for me?” his breathing was ragged, his pace needy. the sight in front of him was like heaven; you drooling all over your sheets, moans getting cut off by his thrusts and your cunt dripping only for him. you nodded, begging for him to let you cum, he almost bursted at your cries. “go ahead baby, soak my cock.” and you did, with moans and whimpers falling off your lips, your mind going black at the strength of your orgasm, which made your whole body shake and your walls to get impossibly tighter around him.

“shit.” he groaned, fucking you though it, feeling your cum coat the curls on the base of his cock, the wetness and warmth of it.

“din!!” you whimpered when his pace only sped up, the overstimulation becoming too much. you tried and get away from him, crawl your way on the bed, but he only tugged you closer, pinning you down onto the duvet ‘till only your hips were detached from it, spreading you open for him to fuck into. his right hand harshly gripped your neck from the back of your head, making sure you wouldn’t move, that you wouldn’t get away from him. you were sure there would be bruises on his fingertips decorating your waist tomorrow morning, but you wouldn’t care. “din, please…”

you screamed as he started to piston inside of you, unable to quiet your sobbing and whimpers. “don’t fucking move.” he groaned, feeling his own release start to build. “take it. be the good whore you are and fucking take it.” he gritted in between his teeth.

your eyes were rolling to the back of your head, your jaw slack and spit dribbling to the sheets. your mind felt hazy, your body heavy as he fucked you towards your second orgasm, which was building faster and harder than the first.

“that’s it. good girl.” he smirked when your own body started to thrust backwards, begging for more. “good. fucking. girl.” his thrust cut every one of his words.

“din, gonna cum, gonna-, fuck!” your eyes were rimmed by tears, your legs shaking and about to let you fall onto the mattress. thank god he was holding you up, manhandling you just like he would a goddamn toy for him to fuck.

“that’s it baby. cum for me. good girl.” you were falling apart as he hit your sweet spot one, two, three more time before your orgasm came crashing down like a tidal wave, drowning you under water. “fuck, so fucking tight.” he groaned, his cock twitching at how your walls were tightening. “gonna cum baby. gonna fill this pretty and wet cunt of yours.” you moaned. “yeah? you want it, baby? want my cum?” you whimpered, nodding, babbling however you could multiples ‘yes’ that slurred their way out of your lips. “fuck. take it baby, fucking take it.” he groaned, and his cock twitched as he emptied himself inside of you, painting your pussy on cum and filling you up so good you could only wither and moan at the feeling.

you fell with him to the mattress, your bodies sticky and spent. he had for sure fucked his frustrations in you.

he quickly undressed, holding you with your back against his wide chest, his strong arms surrounding your waist. you whimpered when his soft cock pushed his cum all inside once again when he seated himself in your cunt. “i know baby, i know…” he cooed, leaving soft pecks and kisses in the expanse of your neck and shoulders. “gotta keep it all warm and inside for you baby.” he muttered against your skin, and soon enough your eyes were closing once again, now completely spent due to his rough fucking.

-

a/n; oh lord, hope y’all liked it, love you! 😭😮‍💨

[djarins-cyare]

So, you have a date with Din, and when you go over, he answers the door to the cabin looking like this…

[bbygirlpascal]

Unexpected (Pedro Pascal x Fem Reader)

18+ NSFW: Please do not interact with my posts if you are under 18.

Summary: Your called-off engagement has left you dating shitty men and having even shittier sex. Luckily, your best friend Pedro is always there to cheer you up and keep you entertained.

You always thought of Pedro as a friend, nothing more. Someone you can hang out with at the ungodly hours of the night when no one else was awake, you could count on him to be up. Ever since you’ve been living on your own in your home you’ve felt lonelier than ever. Your engagement to the man you thought was your soulmate had been called off almost 5 months now but it has yet to get easier.

Mindless, no strings attached flings here and there surely kept you occupied, but never pleased. Going out on dates with men you knew only wanted one thing, and spoke big game on their performance but always failed to deliver when you actually fucked.

Tonight was no different and you just wanted this guy out of your house. He was jabbering on about something you weren’t even paying attention to, you were just nodding your head and zoning out.

“Listen, I don’t feel so good. I think I want to lay down and sleep the night off. I’ll call you tomorrow, ok?” you said to him.

“Sure, no problem (Y/N), it was great meeting you,” he sheepishly smiled as you walked him over to the door. Not giving him any ounce of a hint that you needed or wanted a goodbye kiss. Turning around and slumping onto the couch, you grabbed your phone and called Pedro.

“Hey Pedrito,” you said to him and chuckled.

“Hey mama, what’s up?”

“Just ended my date, he was going on about some bullshit like crypto or something I almost fell asleep, no joke and he kept staring at my tits all. night.” you turned around and laid on your back, “Are you up to anything tonight? I’m bored.”

“No I’m free, I’ll be there in about 20,” he hung up and you pushed yourself off the couch to get yourself unready for the night. This part of your night was your favorite, almost ritualistic when you thought about it.

You were in the middle of brushing through your hair and you heard your doorbell ring. Making your way to the front door you opened it to a smiling Pedro, holding a bottle of your favorite liquor.

“I had some of your favorite so I figured I’d bring it with me,” he stepped in to the door and gave you a peck on the cheek, “Good to see you.”

“You too. I’ll get us some glasses.”

Pedro made his way into your living room, the glow from the pool in your backyard reflecting onto the ceiling, making silver ripples bounce and dance on the wooden beams. You walked out with glasses in hand and Pedro was standing in front of the sliding glass door looking outside at the pool.

“I think we should go for a swim.”

“What about a float swim? I don’t want to get my hair wet,” you said, recalling the labor you just went through to get your hair to its current state.

“What is a float swim?” he chuckled and raised an eyebrow.

“You know...just sit on our floats in the water. No swimming involved,” you said to him, “A float swim.”

“Ah, make sense. I’ll meet you out there.” he scurried to your guest bathroom to get changed.

You made you way into your bedroom to put on your bathing suit. Most of your suits barely covered anything on your body, your ass was out and your breasts peeking out of the sides of the triangle shaped fabric that hardly covered them.

You and Pedro floated around for awhile, sipping on your vodka martinis and laughing about the stories you told each other. Soon you felt too prune-y and figured it was time to get out, plus it was getting a little chilly. As Pedro so lovingly pointed out and joked about your nipples being hard enough to cut glass.

You stepped into the guest bathroom to go pee and hang up your bathing suit, your normal routine since you didn’t have room to hang up your bathing suit in your master bath. Naked and drying yourself off, you heard the door knob move and turned around to see Pedro. He didn’t even realize you were in there until he looked up.

“Oh god, sorry (Y/N), sorry,” he swiftly moved to step back out of the door frame. Slightly embarrassed but not enough to make things awkward, you finished drying yourself off and wrapped your towel around yourself.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t notice the light was on, I should’ve knocked.”

“Pedro,” you walked over to him and placed your hand on his arm, “it's okay. I think we’re bound to see each other naked at some point.”

You’re not really sure why you even said that, the vodka was definitely speaking more so than you thought.

“Sorry, that came out differently than I thought it sounded in my head,” you chuckled nervously, “but seriously, don’t worry.”

Pedro moved closer to you, “So, you want me to see you naked?”

Your cheeks felt hot, you could feel his gaze on you and you tried to avoid eye contact with him.

“Have you thought about me like that, (Y/N)?”

You nodded your head yes. Pedro was inches from your face now, he used his finger to tilt your chin up, your faces nearly touching. You inhaled his scent, his familiar scent. He caressed your cheek with the back of his hand, you leaned into his hand fluttering your eyes closed. Nerves and bubbling excitement coursed through you. Never did you think you’d be in this position with Pedro of all people. You’d thought about him romantically, sure and when you first met him you had a crush on him, but he was taken – so friends it was. But now, it was different.

Pedro came closer to you and kissed your lips. Gentle but with so much passion and want you could hardly contain yourself. You ran your hands along his bare arms, still droplets of water on them from the pool. You laced them into his hair, nudging his head closer to your face. He pulled away and looked into your eyes.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he looked at you intently, “Cause if we do this, I don’t think I’m going to be able to stop.”

You bit your lip and looked into his eyes as you crashed your lips back onto his. He backed up and you both made your way into the kitchen. He grabbed you by your waist and plopped you on top of the counter. The cold ceramic counter against your bare ass make you squeal but you kept your lips locked. Sloppily tonguing at each other, letting saliva coat each other’s lips.

Pedro made his way down towards your collar bones, stopping to lick and suck on the sensitive part of your neck. Giving you goosebumps all along your body. He lowered your towel and exposed your breasts instantly latching his mouth around your nipple. Cupping your breast and kneading it with his calloused hands. You threw your head back letting out small whimpers as he teased the sensitive bud and send waves of pleasure to your core.

Subconsciously spreading your legs to rub your pussy on him, needing even an ounce of friction to ease the pleasurable pain.

“Patience baby girl, I’ll help your little aching pussy soon,” he growled as he continued to suckle on your breasts. You could see his hard on in his swim trunks, you certainly didn’t think Pedro was small but you never thought he was that big. You thought about his thick cock entering you and bit your lip.

“Pedro, please baby,” you begged him, your cunt dripping with wetness. Pedro grabbed your legs and lifted them up, your pussy off the edge of the counter, totally exposed to him and he was aching to devour you.

“So pretty baby, your pussy is so pretty,” he said, looking you in the eye as he licked his tongue from your entrance up to your clit, “Mmm, and you’re so wet for me mama.”

You were practically already about to cum at his words. You mercilessly rubbed and rolled your hips against his tongue as he sucked and lapped at your clit. The wet, obscene sound filling your ears was like music. He slid in two of his fingers into your entrance, you could hear how wet you were and he was fingering you so perfectly you were on the verge of screaming.

He continued at his pace, licking and sucking and fingering you into oblivion, until you couldn’t take it any longer. “I’m gonna cum baby,” you whined to him, gripping his hair.

“Cum in my mouth mama, come on,” he talked you through it and your core contracted around his fingers, the pleasure bursting from your belly. He continued fingering you through your orgasm, “Yeah that’s it baby. Cum for me.”

You breathlessly propped yourself up, ready to please him and aching to have his cock in your mouth. Your lips locked once more as he grabbed you from your ass and led you to the bedroom. Sitting down on your knees on the carpeted floor, you pulled down his swim shorts.

His cock spring out, his head glistening with drops of pre cum that made your mouth water. You puckered your lips onto his tip, swirling your tongue around it before deep throating his length into your mouth. He practically growled as he dropped his head back, shallow breaths escaping his lips every time you bobbed your head up and down.

“Yes (Y/N), your pretty little mouth feels so good,” he said to you, gathering your hair into a ponytail in his hand, “Sucking on my cock so good, my little slut.”

He thrusted his cock into your mouth, drool dropping onto your tits as it spilled from the sides of your mouth. You crept your hand up to cup his balls, Pedro straining to not cum right then and there.

He pulled his cock out of your mouth and you rose up off of your knees, towards the bed.

“Turn around mama,” you obliged and Pedro gently nudged your top half to the mattress. You stuck your ass up and buried your face into your duvet. A sharp smack to your ass made you yelp and Pedro let out a soft hum as he rubbed the reddened area. He ran his tip along your folds, collecting your wetness before plowing himself into you.

Your walls stretched out to accommodate his size, almost painful at first but the pleasure quickly overpowered it as he rolled his hips and stuffed his cock into your pussy.

“Pedro, oh my god baby,” you said to him, gripping the comforter as he plowed into you, hitting your spot perfectly every time.

“Baby, I’m gonna cum. Holy fuck. You feel so good, so big.”

“Cum on my cock princess, I wanna hear you scream.”

Your moans were feral, your walls clenched around his cock. You were seeing stars and you could feel the heat of his seed coating your walls and he smacked and gripped your ass. You lifted the top of your body up, leaning back into his chest. Taking in his scent and feeling his chest heave up and down quickly.

“That was...amazing,” you said to him, thighs shakily trying to keep yourself up.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that,” he said and sensually kissed your neck, leading his way to your lips and wrapping his arms around your waist as he squeezed you tightly.

[yeollie-plz]

Drummers Drumming

Day 12 of Pedromas! | Masterlist

Din Djarin x F! Reader

Synopsis: Din likes it rough, you like it when he wears his helmet.

Genre: smut

Warnings: helmet on! sex, p in v sex, unprotected sex, helmet kink? (ig like a mask kink vibe), jealous! sex, claiming, spanking (ass and pussy), choking

Gif credits to owners!

Din takes you from behind. His hips are moving fast and deep, spearing you onto his thick cock. In the rush of this evening’s events, neither of you have stripped yourself of much clothes. Only enough to get his cock inside of you.

But as the cold metal of his helmet sends sparks through the skin of your shoulder, you aren’t complaining. Something about him needing you this bad turns you on. Something about him still wearing his helmet, also turned you on.

The sound of skin slapping bounced off the walls of his chambers. Hips thrusted harshly into yours as he desperately uses you, trying to reach his peak. He’s grunting above you.

His arm wraps around your middle, angling your body onto his dick. The curve of it hits your g spot, causing you to moan out.

“That’s it, feel me. Feel all of me.” The sound waves pass through his helmet and tickle your shoulder. You shiver.

“Gotta make sure you know who you belong to.”

You moan again, “I do, I know.” You try to affirm.

“I don’t think you do.” Another grunt as he snaps his hips forward, you jolt forward. “Not with how you were flirting with that asshole.”

“I wasn’t-” A thurst. “-flirting.”

You choke on your words slightly, saliva building in your mouth at how good he is fucking you. At this point, you have lost all control of yourself.

“Seemed like flirting to me and it seems like you need to be punished for it.” He pulls out without warning causing you to moan at the loss, and the slight pain.

Din sits on the cot. Grabbing your hips, he drags you over his lap, ass still up in the air. The cold of the air makes your pussy want his warmth back even more.

“Be a good girl and take your punishment.” He says before landing a smack to your ass. It is so hard that you know it will be red tomorrow.

“I think about fifteen will help you remember who you belong to. Count.” He commands.

And so you do. But as the fifth slap is landed onto your cheeks, you are whimpering. Your wetness is dripping down your thighs, the spanks only helping to make more slick.

He tuts at your noises, landing another smack. He strokes your pussy lips, soaking his gloved fingers. Your hips buck at the contact.

Three more spanks, to each cheek. So close to the end. So close to him, hopefully, fucking you again.

But as his hand comes down again, it doesn’t make contact with your butt. Instead, it makes contact with your abused pussy. A shocked noise passes your lips. A dark sigh comes from him as he lands his last two spanks there as well.

He gives you just a second to recover before grabbing your neck. He uses only that hand to push you to sit up. With a bit of help from him, you are now sitting on his lap, facing outward.

His hand is still wrapped around your throat as he squeezes it slightly. Knowing just how you like it. His other arm is wrapped around your middle again, just to lift your hips up enough to slip you onto his dick.

It’s almost too easy with how wet you have become from all the activities of the night. The much needed stretch of your pussy walls, causes you to whine.

Din uses his strength to lift you on and off of his cock. You are shocked at how easily he makes it seem. Using your body as his fuck toy, he fucks you onto him hard and fast.

The top of his helmet is once again rested on your shoulder as he looks down at your pussy swallowing his cock. He moans at the sight.

“Kriff, I love to watch this pussy as I fuck it. So good for me”

His words have you moaning. His cock is now brushing your sweet spot, getting you close to your orgasm. You clench onto to him, wanting to somehow take him even deeper. He groans at the feeling.

All you can hear is his heavy breathing, muffled by the metal of the helmet, and skin on skin. Sweat beads on your forehead as your skin burns with need. A desperate moan escapes you as you clench around his member again.

“Just feel it.” His fingers tighten around your neck, your vision blackens at the corners at the lack of oxygen.

And that’s when your orgasm hits you. It is like a wave crashing over you as you are shaking above him. It is so intense that your ears ring and your vision goes white. Something with the mixture of teasing, roughness, and his expertise has you having one of the most intense orgasms of your life.

He continues to work you through your peak, still fucking into you without loosing his speed or power. Wanting to cum as well, he lets go of your neck and lean you down to get deeper.

His dick brushes your cervix, overstimulating you just a bit. But he doesn’t care about your whining and continues his assault on your core. Finally his hips are stuttering, as he fills you with his cum.

He works your body onto his dick, making sure you are completely full of his seed. Pulling out of you slowly as to not overstimulate either of you.

“Now do you remember?” He says after letting you both catch your breaths. You look at him in question, not sure what he’s asking.

“Do you remember who you belong to?” You almost laugh. You couldn’t believe he was still on this. Jealous, jealous man.

“I am and always will be yours.” You say matter of factly. Placing your hands on either side of his helmet as you stare into the eye slits.

Your eyes glaze with love as you stare past those dark shades and he knows you are truly seeing him.

<- Previous Day

Taglist:

@britlord @kittenlittle24 @godlypresley @amyispxnk

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

my little flower

kinktober, day twenty-seven

a/n: no words, just :( because this is both so sweet and so sad and so just yummy yummy

warnings: din djarin x reader, smut, fantasy au, warrior!din, angst, hurt/comfort, established relationship, long-distance relationship, there is some war going on, cuddling, cockwarming

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist | kinktober 2023

Silver armour and sharp sword scattered on the floor, you couldn’t cling to the longed-for warrior fast enough when he finally returned, even if it was just for one night. Entangled in his lap, it was impossible for you to get close enough to him now that he was finally home. 

Cock embedded deep within you, throbbing as you hugged him with your warmth, “I wish you wouldn’t have to go back out there…” you uttered, head resting on his broad shoulder. 

“Oh, my little flower,” Din sighed deeply, his palm caressing over your spine as you melted further against him, “I know… if I could stop this war in a heartbeat, I would,” you bit down on the inside of your cheek, not wishing to spend what precious time you had on tears, “stay back here forever with you and never pick up a blade again.”

Eyes unfocused, you let out a low exhale, “but you have to…” knowing what would happen if he didn’t. 

“Yeah…” he sucked in a pained breath as his gentle touch continued to flutter across your skin, “just try and focus on right now… I’m here, I’m in your arms, you’ve got me, you’ve got all of me.”

© 2023 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[chl-owo-e]

Din x reader where he finds out she’s pregnant and panics even tho he’s the best dad to Grogu

YESS!!!

You’re the first person who finds out (obviously) but you did have your suspicion of Grogu knowing about it before you. It was always when you got near him, he tried to reach for your stomach. You’re just thinking he wants to hug you or even just to lay on your tummy for comfort. But sooner or later after you find out yourself, you sit with the child on your lap and he gently holds onto your stomach as he stares at you with his pretty round eyes.

But dont get me started on Din finding out! At first you wanted to keep it a secret for a bit maybe like a week or two so you could surprise Djarin. But that didn’t work out, after the first week of hiding it you very noticeably became more sensitive. Din at first thought you were just on your period and you were just having some personal problems (so who was he to judge when you cried over a small helpless bug getting smushed)

Then came the second week where you started to get sick (or so he thought) every morning or so you would run to the refresher in the ship leaving din alone in the small cot the two of you share. After a few days he follows you to the refresher as you vomit your guts out, thats when you told him. Whispering it under your breath, at first you thought he didn’t hear you but with his facial expression you knew he did.

The pure shock he wore on his face worried you. You thought that he would hate you but a smile graced his features and he hugged your shaking frame.

Later on during the pregnancy Din had gotten worried that he wouldn’t be the best father. He thought that the life he would give his child would be the best. One night you walked in on him muttering something to himself. Even tho you didn’t hear what he said his face said everything. The fear and shame that the room filled with was upsetting for you. Sitting next to him you comfort Din.

But even though you’re confident about Din being a good dad, you still have your days where you wonder if you’ll ever be a good mom. But Din always cancels out any bad thoughts you have about parenting. Giving you examples of how much of a great parent you are to Grogu. Din is such a great person to be around especially when you have those moments.

[cissyenthusiast010155]

~𝓕𝓮𝓷𝓷𝓮𝓬 𝓢𝓱𝓪𝓷𝓭 (𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓜𝓪𝓷𝓭𝓸𝓵𝓸𝓻𝓲𝓪𝓷) & (𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓑𝓸𝓸𝓴 𝓸𝓯 𝓑𝓸𝓫𝓪 𝓕𝓮𝓽𝓽) 𝓢𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓸𝓷 1

[oscarisaacsspit]

real (x)

[crumbledcastle28]

Din Djarin: Languid

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

Excerpt: “Can we do this now?” he asked, resting his nose against your cheek. His breaths coated your face. “Please?”

You smiled, burying your hands in his hair. Your eyes drifted closed in bliss. “Yes, Din. I want you. Right now.”

He kissed your cheek and placed your hands back on his armor. “Please get this off of me, and please keep me awake.”

And you did.

Warnings: sleepy, love-filled sex between a married couple. Wife!reader, grogu’s asleep, unprotected sex, mostly just kissing and feeling up. NOT breeding kink. A bit of cockwarming.

A/N: Once again, Happy Dincember everyone. I cannot explain how grateful I am for almost 3,000 followers without crying.

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

Pedro Masterlist

(GIF from Pinterest)

The familiar scuff of his boots on the Crest floor pulled you from REM sleep into barely languid, and the heat of your body from the cot’s covers warmed just so.

Your riduur was home.

Due to how out of it you were, it took you a few moments to realize that no, this wasn’t a dream. This was real. The two-day mission turned five, turned seven, turned nine, turned twelve was finally over, and your numb body somehow found the strength to prop itself up and drape yourself with the blankets.

You sat like that, all wrapped up in your cocoon, smiling to yourself with your eyes closed, for a few moments. You then stood up slowly, taking the blankets with you, and squinted your way out of the bedroom. Your eyes were no wider than slits, and you thanked the maker for muscle memory.

You swallowed the sleep from your mouth and rounded the corner, feeling your muscles ache with stretch, still in a daze. Your head was beginning to swim with dopamine, and with one last yawn, you made it to the cock pit.

The sight before you halted you instantly.

There was your husband, wrapped in wealth and impenetrable metal, leaning over Grogu’s tiny bassinet. He must have gotten fussy when Din opened the airlock, and Din had immediately taken care of it.

You’d have to thank him for that later.

He sat Grogu up, patting his back, and fed him small bites of maple bar. His favorite.

“That’s it buddy,” he whispered. “Swallow. There ya go.”

You stood and watched this encounter, soaking it in. It was moments like this that you missed the most when he was gone—moments so domiciliary and domesticated that they etched into your heart implicitly. These moments were so wrapped in rarity that you could not even daydream about them or yearn for them, because you didn’t even know they existed. Like watching a Mandalorian brush his teeth, or chop an onion, or change the sheets, or breathe at night. They were the memories you would recall when you were old and graying, unable to describe them in a way that did them justice.

You wrapped yourself tighter in the blankets, just watching and basking in the glow of it. Eventually Din laid Grogu down, tucking him in, and traced his face with his leather-bound glove.

“Goodnight buddy,” he whispered, and turned to you.

You looked up at him in all his sheathing, and smiled.

“Hi,” you whispered.

“Hi,” he whispered back. He smelled of metal and woods with a hint of gunpowder. In the nearly pitch black of the room his shoulders still appeared as broad as ever, his armor was caked in mud, and his weapons belt hung a noticeable amount lower than usual.

You took a moment to soak in the fact that you would look at him like this for the rest of your life.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said, moving closer to you.

“You didn’t,” you replied, “your boots did.”

His chuckle underneath the modulator was nothing like it was out of it, but it was enough to bring you home.

“You know I like being up for you when you get back,” you said, looking up higher at him as he came closer and closer. The warmth of the blankets and increased blood flow were not the only things warming your insides now. “Let me be your docile, obedient wife for once.”

You could feel the smirk on his face. “Yes. Obedient and docile, perfect for you.”

He made it to you, wrapping his hands around your waist. Your hands laid on top of his cooled beskar chest and chills etched up your spine as you looked up at him with a smile.

He pressed his forehead firmly against your own. The smell of forest and frost on him engulfed you. “My wife is none of those things.”

You hummed. “No, she isn’t.”

He began slowly walking you backwards into the bedroom, as if you were swaying in a dance, and your hands crept up to his helmet.

“Why didn’t you wake me up when the kid was fussy? I could have taken care of him.”

His gloved hands trailed up your back and the exhaustion in his voice was present. “I missed him. Wanted to take care of him.”

You smiled and pressed a kiss to his visor, tasting a mix of ice and salt that burned your chapped lips. “Okay.”

The back of your knees hit the bed frame and you stopped, creeping your hands underneath Din’s helmet.

“If you take this thing off me I’m not going to be able to keep my mouth off you.”

He said it so nonchalantly, as if that was a normal thing to say, and the fatigue of his voice and body language liquified you even more. Your still drowsy state was not helping matters.

You felt euphoric, in a perfect state of conscious and unconscious, like you were still in a dream. It was paradise.

“That’s exactly what I had in mind,” you said, removing the sheets wrapped around you. You let them fall onto the bed before reaching back up for him, slowly rising the helmet off of his head. The familiar hiss coated your ears as it rose, and the chocolate eyes that were yours forever met your own.

He smiled in the dark, illuminated by the moon. He brought his mouth inches away from yours, breathing in your breaths. “Hi.”

“Hi,” you responded, and he kissed you.

Immediately, the taste and feel of him washing over you threatened to crumble you to the floor. Din hands on your waist were the only things keeping you upright.

He kept you standing like it was nothing.

He kissed you slowly and deeply, taking his sweet time tasting you again. Your hands worked their way up his body, tracing his beskar all the way up to his hair. Your tongue met his at the same moment your nails scratched his scalp, and he pulled away from you to groan.

“Can we do this now?” he asked, resting his nose against your cheek. His breaths coated your face. “Please?”

You smiled, burying your hands in his hair. Your eyes drifted closed in bliss. “Yes, Din. I want you. Right now.”

He kissed your cheek and placed your hands back on his armor. “Please get this off of me, and please keep me awake.”

And you did.

Piece by piece, you disrobed the Mandalorian from his beskar down to complete nudity, watching his eyes open and close as he began to drift to sleep as he stood. A few times you had to lean him onto you to prevent him from falling, and he kissed around your pulse point every time. Whispering gibberish.

Finally you squatted down to remove his boots, and just like that, he was naked in front of you. His purple under-eyes stood out in the moonlight, as well as a new scar across his abdomen. Your irises coated in worry, reaching up to feel it, but he stopped you.

“Tomorrow,” he said, kissing you more passionately than he had all night. “Tomorrow.”

Then he disrobed you.

The rough skin on his hands tracing you lit you on fire, boiling you enough to keep you conscious. He was the slowest with your panties, pulling them down your thighs like an art form. You scratched your nails down his warm back, and that seemed to speed him up.

As soon as the fabric hit the floor Din lifted you into his arms, laying you down flat on the cot before crawling overtop of you.

“Din, you’re tired, I can—”

“No,” he said, burying his head in your neck. “Wanna be close to you.”

You couldn’t say no to that.

He took the sheets you had discarded and covered them over the two of you. You could see nothing else but him, and you were completely surrounded by the scent and warmth of his skin.

“Maker I missed you so badly,” he said before kissing you hard enough to make you whine. You pulled him as close to you as possible, tracing his body as he kissed and kissed and kissed you, memorizing your mouth. The passion and heat in you were rising, and with one trace down his haired chest with your nail, he pulled away. He traced his hands over your face, pushing your hair away to see you fully. You traced his face too, noticing his scruff had turned into a full beard.

You always liked that look on him.

“Y/N,” he whispered. “My Y/N.” He spoke as if you were unbelievable

“I’m right here,” you responded, holding his face in your hands.

“I just want to be inside of you,” he whispered, almost pathetically. “Can we just skip to that part?”

You smiled, laughing loudly, and kissed him quickly. “Yes.”

He huffed a laugh and kissed you again, nice and slow, like he had been the whole night.

He kissed you and felt you for so long that you didn’t know if he would make it. His movements slowed and slowed as he went on, touching you and tracing you so meticulously it was like he was painting you from nothing.

Finally, with a firm kiss to your jawline, he entered you tortuously. You exhaled in pure pleasure, and your body threatened to rapture already.

He was a dream come true.

Din halted when he was as deep as he could go and tucked his head into your neck. “Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, cyar’ika riduur.”

You kissed the side of his head. “Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, adol akaan.”

And that’s when he started to move.

As he moved in and out, in and out, in and out, dragging each thrust on and on to feel every inch of your folds. He felt all around you, re-memorizing you; how you skin felt, how your body had changed, and the exact rhythm of your heart.

Tears spilled from your eyes as he moved, and you moaned his name over and over, grateful for the return of it in your tongue.

“Keep—keep doing that, saying my name,” he said as he moved. “Almost forgot I had it.”

You repeated it over and over again, clenching around Din when he began to shake. He swirled his shaking fingers around your clit, and with one last clench, the both of you went.

The covers above your heads did little to hide the sound of your synchronization, and it was then that you really started to drift. Din was so warm inside you—filling you up completely—and his body had you trapped in a cave of sheets and serenity. You were perfectly satisfied with your husband safe and sound in your arms, and your body began to fail you.

You felt Din prop himself up and press kisses around your face and your mouth, and your lips tingled with the intensity of it all. He rubbed his nose against yours and pecked your lips before laying back on top of you, pulling the covers raised above his head off as he did. You were hit with fresh air, and were inches away from bliss before Din whispered one last thing in your ear.

“Goodnight, docile and obedient wife.”

You drifted off with a smile.

None of this was a dream. This was real.

Your riduur was home.

Mando’a Translations:

Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, cyar’ika riduur: I love you/ I will know you forever, my sweet wife.

Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, adol akaan: I love you/ I will know you forever, even through war.

Tag list: (I apologize if your tag is not working/not added. Let me know if you’d like to be added!!)

@leahkenobi

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

@lexloon @pauphs

[hellowoolf]

electra heart

pairing: din jarin x prostitute fem!reader

summary: with the softness of your body you have bought your piece of luxury, clawed your way to opulence, and wait now on the lustful whims of the rich and powerful. what havoc is wreaked when the only client you've ever loved, your mandalorian, finds you in the golden smoke of a gala on canto bight?

warnings: mention of alcohol, prostitution, reader is literally a prostitute, reader goes by alias "edie", din calls her “edee”, angst, quick mention of killing (bounty hunting), porn with plot, SMUT, soft!dom din, unprotected piv, beskar humping (sue me), tiiiny bit of degradation if you squint your eyes and pat your head and rub your tummy, little bit of begging, fucking in a literal suit of armor, creampie (if i left out any, let me know <3)

word count: 4.7k

authors note: first din fic alert !!! hand on heart i meant to keep this light hearted. and that’s what counts…right ??!!!!

woolfie’s masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

you had been small, once. a young thing born into the streets of tatooine, conjured by them, slipping dirty like a curse through the city with a beggar's cup. in the day, the sand heated to glass and fire, and you trailed in the shadowed coattails of men the passers by could think your father, but with nightfall came the slow, syrupy suck of warmth from land, and even pressed up against building corners and doorways you shivered in the starlight. and what a cruel thing it was to know—to be, even then, so certain of your own poorness. you stuck little fingers through the holes of your clothes to cork the heat of your skin, and reconciled, in the meanwhile, with your birth as a nomad with no place to journey.

oh, but you loved the ships. with festivals held on the plains came warships and single-seat fighters, great discs of silver settling the baking sand, and you circled the throngs of people to let the gleam of sunlit metal blind you, if only for a moment. with scrap metal and a child’s palms you laid your plans there in the tatooine sand, to seek out whatever precious lavishness was left out there for you. beads of sweat jeweling down your wrists you thought yes, you were fit for that sort of life.

it became clear to you, when you came of age, that your body was your only currency for purchasing such plans. kicking stones while you wound through the cityscape, you supposed the home you could make in a brothel, and the money, too, made for an even exchange, and besides, you’d absorbed worse than man. you tap a manicured nail down your glass and hum with the bellish chime. where had all those girls gone? where were they now? you wonder if they’ve caught wind of you from here, if your perfume has traveled that far. you hope so.

“my edie, how are you honey?”

kel talbot is even blonder than you remember him. with his chest to your back in the sprawling porcelain of his bathtub he’d admitted, along the skin of your shoulder, that it wasn’t real, the color. he dyed it when he went home to naboo, he said. still damp and soapy he’d tipped you an extra 5,000 credits, for your discretion and your loveliness. 

“i’m well, kelly. it’s always so wonderful to see you,” you lilt back to him. and because you can’t help yourself, so prone to indulgence now, you add, “have you been off home? i haven’t seen much of you here.”

he’s lovely, really, and delighted that you would ask. “as a matter of fact, i have. my mother’s been remarried a sixth time, if you can believe it. a great big ceremony and all, and i really couldn’t miss it.”

you smooth your free hand down the lapel of his jacket, black silk gleaming between the pillars of your fingers as you drag them. you wouldn’t mind him, for the night. “i really miss you so much when you’re gone.”

he steps closer, flattered little smile, and you look up at him through your lashes. “don’t stroke my ego, edie, it’s unbecoming,” he whispers, so thoroughly pleased with your attention on him, and you tug on the bunch of his coat in your palm.

“do you want me to stroke something else for you, kelly?”

he lets out a shuddered breath across your face. heir to an agricultural fortune on naboo, he is all tradition, brought up on pomp and circumstance and a set of shoulders shaped for the head of a long dining table. your innuendos fall heavy on him, always. he doubles over with them, sinks into you to realign himself upright. edie, edie, someone called you edee once, it means jaws, teeth, he’d told you. when it came time to shed your first name, your real name, it’d come naturally. edie, edie. kel is ripe for biting now.

“i–i have somewhere to be, honey, i can’t.” you pout at him a little. he tips generously. “don’t look at me like that.”

you set him back by your hold on his suit and he brushes himself with his palms, dusting the fabric from whatever coital indecency you’ve smeared on him.

“i’ll let you know when i’m in town again, okay?” and he offers it like a favor, and you suppose he hopes it to be one, so you nod with a gentle sigh.

“go enjoy your night, kelly. i’ll be here if you change your mind,” you promise, and with a tender smile his platinum hair filters back through the ballroom. 

if you’re honest, you don’t really know the purpose of this event to begin with. canto bight shines bloated with galas and gamblers, and you dance, ephemeral, through the lot of them in search of clientele. scanning the dancing gold and satin of this crowd, collected on the bottom floor of the hotel you work from, you find mostly elderly men, married and elderly. you certainly aren’t above servicing either, though you went out tonight for the delights of it more than anything else. draping yourself in the inordinately expensive wrappings gifted by your previous clients, arms and collarbones dripping over with fine jewelry and precious gems, you enjoy the ritual of it, now. you enjoy the rest of it, too, with the right sort of client. you drag a red gemstone, set in gold, to and fro along its chain, your first little opulence left with the credits on the windowsill. edee, edee. a passing, devastating thought: like the girls from that first whore house you hope he smells you, hope through the filter of his helmet he’s struck with the scent like a sharp ache that sweetens in the middle. and—

you should’ve missed it, really. an inconsequential glimmer in the face of all the light you’ve gulped down these past years, but still you seem to find it, the little silver spotlight convexing through the curve of your glass. it points right on you, the beam, and you tilt the glass back and forth to watch the light twitch along your sternum. your body tenses with the stretch of a memory, of you in the sand on your back with the sterling starships jumping into hyperspace above you. but surely there’s no ship here, you reason, and when you look up, he’s right there. they all wear the same getup, creed driven and plated, but you are certain it’s him. with a cock of his hip and a shoulder leaned up against the wall you are certain, so certain, and he is right fucking there. it’s all coming back to you now, his beskar in the rotting wood of your doorway, little words in mando’a, your name, the first one, in his mouth. your mandalorian.

gliding through the dancing bodies of the ballroom—they part for you, now—you shiver with the breeze of your dress, a great sweeping curtain of red silk. you don’t remember, really, when he stopped coming to see you, only that you were wholly and inappropriately devastated. you missed the stick of him between your thighs, the way he loved you. you were so sure he did, back then, and you find that still, as this diamond sea of people carves a path for you to him, you are still sure. you can feel your own wetness collecting at your seam; you cannot unlearn this want for him.

he doesn’t notice you until you’re inches from his side, and still he won’t turn his head. from his peripheral you are unrecognizable, you suspect.

“which one?”

and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him move the way he does as your voice echoes behind his visor. it’s a startled jump, a straightening, a tip of his helmet to the side. you think he’s frightened, at first, a heavy terror that collects through the tendons of his hands, but the fear leaves easy, sugars into wonderment. he says your name, arced in question and through the rasp of his modulator.

you shake your head, look out at the ballroom. “i don’t use that name anymore.”

“i–you…” he shakes his head, knocks something loose, “...what are you doing here?”

you snort. “i could ask you the same thing.”

“i have someone i’m looking for.” and it should be ominous—i have someone to kill here—but his voice is still soft, airy with the sight of you. you turn back to him and nod to the crowd.

“yes, i ask again, which one?”

“you know i can’t tell you that.” and he says it like a memory, like the sweet juice of nostalgia on his lips, he says it like i remember you.

you shrug. “i hoped maybe the rules had changed.”

“mm,” he hums, “century old creeds don’t seem to, i’m afraid.”

you giggle with the youth he brings you back to. it’s so easy, falling back here with him. the tilt of his helmet leans to his other shoulder, dark visor tipping down your dress, and your skin fizzles. 

“what’s brought you here, then?”

you mirror the angle of his neck. you know, you know. he grunts around something thick in his throat, your name, the first one, you think. he remembers what you said.

“what do i call you? now?”

the delight that twists through you is a sacred one. “edie.”

this does him in. his head tips back against the wall behind him, steadying breath filtering out. “edee?”

“not quite. e-d-i-e.” he lifts, with what seems a great effort, his head back up to look at you. you continue, softer, “but almost.”

and because you know your mandalorian, you see in the shift of his boots on the ground that he’s as ecstatic as his metal plating will allow. his hands twitch, and you want them to touch you, need him to touch you.

“come dance with me, mando.”

he does his best to hesitate, really, but then you’re out among the swaying people, one gloved hand at your back and the other clasped between your fingers, closer now than you’ve been since he last came inside you some years ago in whorish darkness. you squeeze him thinking of it, the stick and the smell, and he presses you further against the gleam of his chest, yes, i remember, i remember. it’s only here, molded around him, that you feel how much bigger he is, the broad width of his shoulders cemented out past the lines of him you used to tend to.

“you look…sort of different.”

“is that so?”

maker, you love the sound of him like this, so close in, so insistent on whispering, so incapable of doing so. “mhm.”

“doesn’t hold a candle to the changes you’ve made, cyar’ika.”

“mm,” you hum, “you know, it’s funny, i feel much of the same.”

he bunches his hand a moment in the silk of your dress. “the glamor hasn’t pulled you under?”

your laugh reverberates against his chestplate. “oh no, i’m sure it has. i just mean i’ve always liked shiny things.”

he groans, quiet and tight. “and why’s that? you like your reflection in them?”

he unlatches you from his chest to spin you around before fastening you back to him, and your scoff whips an arched path around you. “please, the vain one between us has always been you, mando.”

he lowers his head, great secret on his lips. “i haven’t shown my face in decades, edee.”

you can hear his tongue on the word, and you know he hasn’t said your new name, similar as it may sound. the lapping scoop of mando’a washes you over again with the memories of him. and laughing, again you are laughing. you love this bit. “yes, i do remember that part. though i find it awfully excessive that you prance about the galaxy in this welded jewel of a thing.” you knock against the beskar with a knuckle.

“welded jewel. you’ve gotten metaphorical while i’ve been gone.”

“this crowd enjoys it.”

he glances over and around your shoulder. “and you enjoy them?...this crowd?”

you suck on your front teeth to think on it. “you know, most of them don’t ask for it. not all of it, anyway. it’s mainly a lot of talking, now.” and it’s true. even above the lust, this powerful lot is lonely, irrevocably lonely. he nods, and as your heart hammers and wails you tilt your head up to his helmet to whisper against his visor, “you never wanted to talk, did you mando?”

the band of his arm around your back constricts again, a gruff admission, “no, i didn’t.”

he never did take anyone else in that little brothel, it was only ever you. the other girls liked to watch him pass by through the hallway, luster of his armor glinting in the low light, but he walked a tight line to your door, knocked twice, soft as anything. even in that wooden box, a bed and a window and an empty dresser, you remember the metal of him grating at the joins as he tried to make you feel something. you remember, too, that so green, so newly wrung out as you were, your limbs went limp before his credits ran dry, but he defected to your will, watched your body and worshiped at its altar. when your spine loosened and your hips unwound, still with time paid for, he stepped back into the sanded stench of tatooine, hand-cupped pile of credits on the windowsill. yes, the windowsill and the i’ll come back for you and the creak of the floorboards, you remember it so well.

“how much do you charge these days?”

you’re tightening your thighs together as you sway with him. “don’t patronize me.”

“i’m not.”

a ribbon of air releases from your nose, be steady. “20,000 credits.”

and he doesn’t flinch, only lets the hand around your back slip along the gloss of your dress, drawing a line above your ass with his thumb, the line he won’t cross without purchase. “i’d pay it.”

you can’t help this now. “will you?”

whatever mark he’s come to kill tonight is slipping through his fingers, but you fill that space just fine. his helmet tilts, and you feel a leather paw come up to retrieve that little red necklace from the hollow of your collarbone. the pad of his glove passes over the gem once, twice, body tightening and buzzing in metal. “this is mine,” he chokes.

yes, it is. you nod. and he’s decided, it seems. with a modulated groan and let’s go in your ear, he’s shepherding you from the ballroom, hand tight at your waist as you find your way to the elevator. and what with the ceremony of your mandalorian, the tediousness of his armor coming off, you fill the elevator shaft with the smell of your drooling pussy and the air thickens with the buzzing glow of you both together again, but you do not move. the tickle of his eyes through tempered glass rubs behind your ears, still a killer, always a killer, you think, just as you are forever what you have always been. the two of you, frozen in blood and sex, the only warmth you’ve ever known. this reality pulls behind your tongue and you gag on it. 

ding. the doors slide open. 

you press a thumb to the screen on your doorknob and your mandalorian crowds up behind you, lets you feel the cool touch of his body, the heat that peeks out at the corners. with thick fingers squeezing at your waist and the hard curve of his helmet at your hairline, your knees buckle with the thought that you might have loved him, too, perhaps fatally, but as the lock clicks open and he pulls you inside you suppose it doesn’t matter much now. 

you’ve worked this room for nearly a year. a window expands from one wall to the other, beams the morning light and warms the bed sheets, and in the drab of afternoon, twinkle of the city just barely cresting over the sunshine, you watch the people below. drunkards and lovers and princes, you scratch their heads with the cliff of your nail, nose against the glass and breath fogging there, drawing up their mythology and smudging it with the skin of your palm. now, though, with the constructed starlight of clubs and casinos shouldering its way through the night’s darkness, the room bathes in polluted light and the faint sound of wealthy indulgence. there is no windowsill for your mandalorian to balance his payment.

“come here, edee.” 

he’s sat himself on the edge of the bed, hand running up and down the metal expanse of his thigh. you stalk your way to him, ruck the hem of your dress up passed your knees to straddle his leg, and slowly, so slowly, through honey and slick and years of parted wanting, he brings his hands to your sides. you splay your fingers on his helmet.

“been a long time, mandalorian.”

he hums in agreement, tips of his thumbs just grazing the underside of your breasts over the silk of your dress before running down again, relearning the ends of you. “my cyar’ika,” he whispers. 

your cunt clenches, sobs with his sounds and the pressure of his thigh. breath shuddered and indignant you drag your pussy along the plate of armor. throat tight with a whine you ask him, “how do you like it now, cyare?”

his body takes to the slice of mando’a in your mouth like water to sand, something dark and heavy, and his hips tilt up to you as you undulate your cunt along him again. the coil of you both is raveling taut and knotting at the edges, perhaps permanently now, twisting back into the shapes you used to make together. and it was always this way between you, this dancing walk to madness; with the head of his cock he fucked a shard of beskar into you, you think, that first time, and in every meeting since he’s rut his hips to claw the thing back out, but your body has absorbed the alloy of it. 

“i want you to fuck me like you missed me.” a shuddered breath, a secret thought, and then: “did you miss me?”

and that question doesn’t come from the metal. no, with your palms warming his helmet you know he’s asking from the fleshy lines between the silver pieces. this is a bloody question. the drag of your cunt against his leg continues still, toes curling beneath you with the cold sting through the fabric of your panties, and perched here atop him you suppose your honesty costs you little in the face of all the rest you’ll give up.

“yes, i did.”

his hands collect your dress like water, silk spilling out between the fingers of his gloves, as he bares you to him, and his visor tips with the sight of you, a feat of topology he memorized so long ago. with a brush of red fabric against your ears you cling to him in only the little scrap of lace that licks along his leg with the wet kiss of your cunt.

“this pussy get wet for me like it used to?”

fuck. 

“yes, yeah,” you breathe out, little bites of ecstasy weaving their way from your clit to the nape of your neck. 

“oh, my edee, look at you,” and he grips a hand in your hair, pushing your eyeline down to watch the gleaming strip of want brushed and rewritten over on his armor. “you like drenching me like that? fuck cyar’ika i’ll leave this hotel like this and everyone will know i’ve fucked a fucking whore.” fuckfuckfuck. you remember the vein along the underside of his cock, want him to hurt you with it now. 

“so fuck your whore, mando, you’ve paid for her,” you plead, but he drops his helmet to your forehead, the both of you still awe struck at the starlit gash of slick you’re dripping on him as your hips gyrate. 

“you’re no more patient than you used to be,” he chuckles, but the wobbled rasp of his voice strips him all but naked to you. his hands grind you harder on his body and you wail, neck open as your head falls back. the pleasure sinks its teeth in you now, all hot bloodlust and bubbling open like seafoam.

“fuck, mando, i–i’m gonna come.”

“yeah, that’s it, right here, make that pussy gush for me and then i’ll fuck her open.”

ecstasy knocks through your arteries as your body pulls tight against him, and with desperate hands he grabs at you, around your asscheeks and between your shoulder blades, to feel you jerk with it. he’s groaning something deep and unforgivable watching you move, but already you’re looking for the weight of his cock.

“fuck me, fuck me,” you heave into his shoulder as you slump over, and he’s nodding silently with you, yes, i remember, i remember. the preamble of fingers and tongues is being leapt over, but neither of you seem to mind. he pulls the leather of his gloves off to maneuver you onto all fours on the bed, and after working his pants open with the bared warmth of his fingers the pads are back on you, running down your back and up your thighs. the heft of him pokes at you and you’re clenching with the feeling, the memory, again the memory. from between your open legs you drop your head to watch him pump his length, fingers tan and thick and a little tattoo between them. 

his head catches at your opening and a whine spills from between your teeth. 

“louder, cyare,” he grounds out. another inch in and you keen.

“fuck.”

his palms find purchase on your side and he anchors himself there, partway within you. you both whistle out whispered breaths listening to the sound of you joined together, him pulling out a centimeter before sinking it back in, fucking you with the head of his cock. 

“oh, it’s just the fucking tip and i’m stretching you already, cyar’ika,” he moans.

“more,” you mewl, “i want more.” and really that’s always been your problem, you suppose. 

his hips are speeding up now, wretched little humps into the tight clutch of your cunt, but he abstains from the whole of it. “fucking beg me for it, edee, i’ve waited this fucking long.”

into the sheets, bunched by your fingers and your jostling knees on the bed, you moan, “please, please, please, fuck me on your cock, cyare, i need it, please.”

the piece of himself, the metal and his creed’s tongue, that he rutted into you all those years ago comes roaring at him now, is cracked open in the air of your voice, and he stutters with it. he fucks you like retribution, hips slapping against your ass with a wet crackle, and you’re screaming, suddenly.

“that’s it, edee, that’s it.”

the walls of your cunt pulse velvet around him as he punches in and out of you, cock reaching up like he’s trying to touch your tongue with it, run through the length of you with his steel and grunting. your body blooms for him, petals open like it always did. when was the last time fucking him felt like your job? it’s all coming back to you now, crying at the foot of your bed, missing him dearly. you have always been a professional despite the intimacy of what you do, but you feel wholly unprofessional here.

“fuck, you’re so fucking tight, it’s like you’re sucking me back in,” and you can’t help your clenching now, “yes, edee, again for me, again.”

and you do, pulsing and clamping on his shaft, and he nearly wails with the feeling. the hum of his voice through the helmet protects him some, but maker you know him well, years worth of your mandalorian, and so you hear it all clearly, him melting behind the metal and fusing at the edges. you push away the thought that he’ll pay you for this.

“maker your pussy feels so fucking good, i’ve never stopped—ah—never stopped fucking thinking about it.”

the jut of his chestplate bites your skin as he pulls your hips up but you barely feel it. “no?”

“never, never,” he repeats, and his own babbling eggs him on, you think, as he thrusts impossibly faster. he fucks you like he needs it, has always needed it, and you’re reminded again that you loved him before, that you love him again, now, perhaps, but it’s all so hard to see clearly with the tight chain of pleasure running up your spine. 

slick seeping from your hole around him you moan, “feel so f–fucking full of it, fuck.”

a frantic hand comes around to your front, pulls the red gem from your chest to lay along your back, and watching the glint of red and gold that he left you bounce on your skin makes him growl and choke. “fuck, fuck, i’m so close, cyar’ika.”

he bends to meet your back and drops the weight of his helmet on the wing of your shoulder and you might not survive the angle of his cock in you now. you’d clasp your hands in penitence if they didn’t hold the both of you up, because this luxury, him greeting your body like it’s his final gutted conquest, is the last you’ll ever beg for. 

with both of you sputtering your souls out on the duvet he groans, “i miss your old name, edee, give it to me again.”

the begging makes you pulse, but you shake your head. your name is your first and only born inheritance, and when you grew old enough to realize it you’d had to shed the thing, or rather hide it, stashed away, untouched. 

“please cyar’ika, just one more like this, just like this, your real name.”

your moans screech with the tragedy of him pleading with you this way, and bellow because you want to let him. yes, you love him now, and you wheeze, “i don’t know your real name, mandalorian.”

this knocks the wind from him and it blows out along the back of your neck but the piston of his cock in you continues, heightens further, and you’re both on the precipice of something devastating. he groans out breathless “din, din, it’s din,” and then, “maker please let me use it.”

as deep and jagged as the naming cuts you, you have never felt this hallowed a thing. him inside, and knowing what to call him, is unlike any bliss you’ve ever known. “din,” you wail.

he nods at your back. “yes, yes, din. let me use it.”

at last you’re nodding, crown of your head bobbing back on his body, and a torrential downpour of your name spits from his mouth, slides down his helmet and onto your spine. and the coming is unlike all the rest, a slow climb, a painful clawing that rips your flesh from the bone, but suddenly you’re both heaving with it, his warmth pumping through you and your gushing slick sliding out. for a moment you panic, worry for the windowsill, for the way it always ends. but your din. the panic catches on din and smokes away.

your limbs give out and you meet the mattress with your eyes closed, aching and a little empty, but mostly as satisfied as a desperate creature like yourself is capable. you’re reminded of the clank of his armor as he rights himself behind you. it’s so easy to forget it, what with how human he feels.

“din.”

the rattle of beskar stills. he returns your name, the real one again.

i love you, i loved you then, and you loved me. no. no, you think, it’s far too true to say. so instead: “will you come find me again?”

the bed dips as he sits on it and a gentle glove strokes through your hair. “always, cyar’ika. i’ll come back for you.”

and because you believe him, din, you do not lift your head to watch him place the credits and dissolve away. you’ll save the shine of him, you vow, for the next time he arrives for you. your mandalorian.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[xzaddyzanakinx]

Master List

Multiple Characters!

Star Wars

Anakin Skywalker/Darth Vader

The Mandalorian (Din Djarin)

N/A for now, coming soon! (Faster if requested)

Han Solo

Luke Skywalker

Kylo Ren

Obi-Wan

Kanan Jarrus

The Witcher

Geralt of Rivia/The Witcher

[djarins-cyare]

So today is Mando Monday, and it’s also the day that my fic, Be-All And Endor, has reached 1,500 kudos on AO3!

I’m still stunned it’s received this much attention, but it brings me such a sense of purpose to see people enjoying the story and taking time out to indulge in the little scenarios I wrote.

So thank you to everyone who helped me to reach this milestone; your support has been truly life-changing and means more to me than you will ever know 🧡💚