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josephquinnswhore · 1 year

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Walls Come Tumbling Down. Part 4

Pairing: Din Djarin x female reader.

Summary: after you sustained a serious injury and weeks of anguish between you two, Din decides he has an important decision to make.

Word count: 2.4K

Content Warning: confessions, din taking off his helmet, marriage proposal, blowjobs, sex, creampie, p in v, unprotected sex.

Din tried to ignore the pain in his calves as he trekked through the trail up the steep hill of the mountainside, your unconscious body in his arms as he carries you to the destination, he was so desperate to reach. He landed on your home planet, Nevarro, remembering when Greef had mentioned the Healing Baths in the mountainside not far from the town. The trip took longer than Din anticipated, the ache in his bad knees cause him to stumble a few times, his back threatening to give out on him in his old age. He persevered through the pain, ignoring the ache he felt and the burn in his arms, holding you close to his chest as he pants under his helmet, trying to catch his breath.

The relief Din felt when he saw the Healing Baths was radiant enough for grogu to notice, cooing happily as he sat comfortably in his travel pod, admiring the view, eyes following some bugs that flew around his face. Grogu’s travel pod stops at the top of the steps as he allows Din to walk forward with you, giving you the privacy Din needed.

The water was crystal clear-the still water disrupted as Dins boots step down into the pool. Gentle ripples surrounded you as he walked further into the water, coming to a stop when he reached the bottom of the steps, the lukewarm water flowing around his mid section, your body floating effortlessly and still as he holds you, unsure of what to do. Din feels the baths speaking to him, ‘submerge her’ unsure if he’s losing his mind he argues, just do it. Without another second wasted his arms drop further into the water, tightening his grip around you as he pulls your body under, the water creating a whirlpool vacuum that sucks the water below with you.

Your loosely braided hair comes undone, flowing around behind you, the blood from wound on your shoulder disappears within the water without staining the purity. Whiteness emits from around your body, the illusion of a bright light surrounds you as you float halfway underwater. The water surges from underneath you, pushing you upward and Din guides you with the water bringing you back to the surface. The water gently bubbling fades as your eyes shoot open taking a massive gasp of air trying to sit upright, a warmth envelops your body and a blur of silver directly upwards was all you could make out, your eyes wet and trying to blink them for a clearer image.

You’re staring up as your vision clears, through the fog and haze your brain fought to emit from. Din is the first thing you see, your arms immediately reaching for him as if it were a natural reaction, your hand cradling his helmet as he looked down at you. Unknown to you, his eyes were filled with tears, in disbelief that you’re awake-alive, and well. You stand upright, the water swelling just below your breasts, Din’s hands guide you to stand, not allowing you to fall. Your hands guide Din’s helmet so it rested on your forehead, holding him for a few seconds before pulling back. “You saved me. I’m forever indebted to you, Din.” The softness of your voice only lulled Din further into his mind, wishing to take you away and start a new life, to settle down.

“You owe me nothing, cyar’ika,” Din replies honestly. Anxiety from the pit of his stomach rose to his throat and stopped there, leaving him feeling choked up. “There must be something I can do. Anything.” Din’s head turns away for a moment to look at the child and he thinks, he wants nothing more for you to be his, forever, baring his children as his lover. “Come with us to the ship, can’t show you here.” You nod in agreement as he takes your hand, his glove squelching as the trapped water is squeezed out by your hand. You reach out to grogu as you stumble along, not used to the sensation of your legs holding you up and walking after days of unconsciousness. He holds your finger with his hand and coos happily at you, big eyes blinking as his head tilts towards you. “I missed you too buddy.”

The walk down the mountain side was exasperating, the uneven, narrow dirt and rocky trail doing nothing to support your feet as they tremble beneath you. Birds and native animals sing and shrill as you walk past them. You were grateful for Din who walked a step in front of you, his arm outstretched behind him to keep you steady, ready to catch you if you tumbled down.

The ship wasn’t particularly far from the trail which internally, you had thanked Din for. You step inside and sit on the cot you had previously occupied, wounded, Din returns to you with a canister of fresh water and dried foods. You graciously accepted, tearing the lid off the canister to drink the water, some dribbling down the side of your chin as you desperately swallowed, cotton-mouth no longer irritating you. You exhale as you set the canister down and eat the snacks provided, thankful as Din sits with you patiently. You wipe your hands on your semi-wet pants and face Din, swallowing the last of your food. “We can talk now, right?” Din nods hesitantly and looks to you, your eyes to his visor. The anxiety that choked him earlier had risen and turned to bile that threatened to spill through his lips, the overwhelming fear of rejection consuming him. “Cyar’ika…” He murmurs your name quietly and takes your hands in his. “I want nothing more for us than cin vhetin. A fresh start.” Your heart enlarges at his confession, wanting to hear these words for as long as you’d been divided, wanting nothing more than to move on. His head dipped momentarily as he removed his gloves, slipping them off and sitting them beside you, the sheets absorbing the water that clung to them.

His bare hand caressed your cheek, you leaned into the warmth it provided, embracing the nerve wracking explosion it cause inside you, weakening you as you succumbed to his touch. “I want that too, Din.” You affirm, biting your lip as you opened your eyes. “Be my riduur, do me the honour of making you my wife.” You couldn’t stop the tears that fell from your lash line, one after another like rain from the sky. He wipes your tears, and waits anxiously for an answer. “It would be an honour to be your wife, I accept.” Din pulls out a small sterling box from the pocket beneath his chest armour, your eyes widen as he opens it to see a beautiful golden wedding band, minimal diamonds and exactly your style, this is the most beautiful surprise ever. “May we be solus-United for the rest of our days.” He slides the beautiful band on your finger and you admire it beautifully, unaware of Din’s hands reaching to the bottom of his helmet, lifting it off, his face revealed to the air around him, to you.

“Din I cant believe it, I’m the luckiest woman in the galaxy.” You look up to him and gasp. His helmet removed and you shut your eyes, clenching them shut. “Din what are you doing?” You ask exasperated, feeling guilty for having see his face. Din reaches for you, “you are my riduur, by way of the Creed you can look.” You relax the muscles around your eyes and open them, mouth agape once again, taking in the beauty of your husband, your hand reaching for his face and he leans into it, embracing your warmth and nurture. You observe him, wanting to take in every small detail. His dark brown tousled hair had speckles of grey, his facial hair neatly groomed and patchy, a blend of brown and grey, his tanned skin and few freckles matched that of his hands. He was handsome, more so than you could ever imagine, you take the time to admire the small things like his crows feet by his eyes and deep stress lines on his forehead, the curve of his nose and bushy eyebrows. All of you desperate to see his eyes, the window to his soul. “Open your eyes Din, look at me.” You plead, begging for your husband to be vulnerable with you, and he does at your request. His eyes open, moving across your face and scanning, seeing you with his own eyes and not through his visor, you were even more beautiful and he took a moment to appreciate your beauty. “Din..” you were speechless, his deep brown eyes wore a hundred emotions, vulnerability and anxiety racing a million thoughts a minute and you could see them all.

“I’m sorry.. if I’m not what you expected.” You frown at his admission and your chest nearly combusts at hearing his voice ring through your ears without the disruption of the helmet, the raspiness and soft tone made your inside turn to mush. Unknowingly, your silence only added to his insecurity, shuffling in his seat beside you, uncomfortably. You shake your head furiously, “Din, you are the most handsome man I’ve ever laid my eyes on. I am blessed to be your wife.” Dins eyes soften and become glossy with unshed tears, you lean forward to place your bare forehead on his own and he relaxes into your touch. “Let me show you how much I love you, let me care for my husband.” Your voice was a bittersweet mix of sweet and sultry. It sent a shiver down Dins neck, gasping when your lips met his own, he matched your pace and your lips moved with his as if you were a puzzle now complete.

You pull Din down to lie on the cot, pulling your shirt above your head, leaving you bare, cheeks red as you exposed yourself to him. “Take your clothes off, Din. Wanna show you how much I love you.” Din removed his clothes, leaving him in his underwear, half sitting to remove his boots lastly. His insecurity rising as he lie near-bare to your observing eyes, drinking him in, he refused to look you in the eyes. You pull off your pants and underwear, leaning over Din and kissed forehead, cheeks and lips, forcing him to look at you. “So handsome.” You praise, blood rushing to his cock at your sweet voice. He groans as you start kissing down his neck, sucking on the skin between his neck and shoulder, licking it to take away the sting, a pretty red mark lingering on his tanned golden skin. Your warm lips kiss down his torso, admiring his muscled but soft body, he was nothing short of handsome in every way. Whines leaving the touched starved man’s lips, hips bucking into the cool air as your fingers trace his underwear, silently begging for you to take them off. “Please, cyar’ika.” You hum at his plea and abide, pulling down the underwear off him, that concealed his rock hard cock. You gasp at the size of it and look at Din, his face completely red at his exposure. “So perfect Din, such a handsome cock.” His cock twitched at your praise alone and you spit on the tip, a loud moan leaving his lips as your soft hand gripped the base of him, slowly jerking him off teasingly, his body twitching as you swipe your finger over the tip, leaking precum, begging for release. “It’s okay, I’ll look after you.” You mutter before wrapping your lips around the swollen tip of his girthy cock and bob your mouth up and down, taking half of him in your mouth, your hands preoccupied themselves with the remainder of his cock and balls. Din’s hands gripped the bedsheets as he groaned loudly, straining against himself to touch you, wanting nothing more than to tangle his fingertips to your scalp. You release him from your mouth which earns a whimper from him, “you can touch me baby, it’s okay.” You take him back in your mouth and he obliged, his rough fingertips running through your hair softly, slightly tugging sending a vibration up his cock as you moan, “stop, please, not gunna last like this.” Din begs, you suck harshly one last time, the tip leaving your mouth with a pop.

“Let me touch you, please, want you to feel good.” He begs from beneath you as you straddle him, you shush him as you line up his cock to your sopping cunt, running the tip along your slit. His hips bucked upward in a desperate attempt for more, whimpering as his eyes met yours, his hands resting on your hips and gripping them firmly, “not tonight Din, let me take care of you.” You line him up and groan as his cock pushes into you, biting your lip harshly as he stretches out your virgin hole. The man is a groaning, whimpering mess beneath you, writhing and digging his fingertips into the soft skin of your hips. You sink down fully, the tip of his cock grazing your sweet spot, the sensitive skin puffing up and coating his cock in another layer of your arousal. “Please, please. Need you. Ahh.” Din throws his head back into the pillow as you grind onto him, easing yourselves into it, drawing small circles with your hips, you lean forward with your hands on his sweaty chest, gripping the small mound of chest hair you could grab. You lift your hips and slam back down, “feel so good Din, you fill me up, my perfect husband.” Din tenses beneath you and whimpers, the praise sending his cock twitching. You bounced up and down, a hotness building in the pit of your stomach, increasing tensioning as you ride him, “gonna cum, cyra’ika.” The tension in your stomach snaps, your cunt gushing your release onto his cock, you tighten around him, clenching as you rode through your high, Din’s groans turn to whimpers as his cock twitches inside of you and he cums, shooting warm ropes of cum right into your womb. You sit silently for a few moments before climbing off him, his cock softening and your cunt clenching to keep the cum inside of you as you lie next to him, bodies covered in sweat and chests heaving. You turn to face him lying on your side, his brown eyes full of love that draw you in, “I love you, my riduur.” He presses a kiss to your swollen lips, and you caress his face, “I love you, Din Djarin, my husband.”

#dindjarin #din djarin #din djarin fic #din djarin x reader #din x reader #din djarin smut #din smut #mandalorian smut #the mandolorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #din djarin x female reader

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dindjarinandlysakane · 1 year

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The Sweetest Taste | Chapter 5 - A Chaperone

Din Djarin is happy on Nevarro. He has a home, a family, what more could he want? But when a woman turns up selling bread and cakes at his doorstep, how can he not fall in love? And how can he also stop her from getting hurt at the hands of her partner behind closed doors? Will the hero save the girl and get the girl? Warm and sweet fluff/romance/hurt/comfort fic.

Masterlist

Chapter 5

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Din Djarin stood, arms folded over his beskar-armoured chest, leaning up against the silver tree beside him.

It was a warm and breezy day, and Din found himself back in the city of Nevarro. He had been checking in with Greef Karga on how things were going. If there was any more trouble, the Manadalorian wanted to know about it.

The pair, along with Grogu, had come out on the streets for a stoll, running into the new Marshal of the city - the former droid IG-11.

A small crowd had gathered around the Marshal, Karga and now Grogu, who seemed elated to see his old droid friend back in action.

The Mandalorian, who hated large gatherings of people, was more than happy to stand on the sidelines and watch as Karga introduced folks to the newly painted droid. IG-11 was today looking particularly shiny, obviously having had a fresh polish and a paint job.

Din, gazing over, gave a weary grunt, rotating his stiff shoulder absent-mindedly.

For the past four days, Din and Grogu had been on Mandalore.

It had been a fleeting visit, more out of curiosity than anything else.

But it had been good to catch up with the progress Bo Katan and the Armorer had been making in getting the planet on its feet.

Din knew that it it would likely take several lifetimes to get Mandalore back to what it once was. But just the idea of having a place where Mandalorians could live and prosper made it all worthwhile.

But as nice as it was to see friends, or travelling through the stars on missions given to him by the New Republic, he now appreciated having a place of his own to call home.

Sleeping in his old Razorcrest had been one thing, with access to a bunk at least. But his N-1 Starfighter didn't have space to even move, let alone lie down. So coming back to a comfortable bed was something Din looked forward to these days.

His entire body ached from the time he had spent over the last few days sleeping awkwardly in a confined space, with Grogu on his lap.

“Are you jealous?” came a sudden familiar voice from Din’s side. Causing the Mandalorian to immediately turn his head… only to come face to face with Lysa Kane, stood there, shoulder to shoulder with him, staring out at the crowd ahead.

Din paused for a long second, eyeing her.

The blonde woman today had her golden hair thrown back over her shoulders, tied back by two thin braids. She wore a long, lilac tunic dress that fell to the floor, and slung over the crook of her elbow was a stiff woven basket.

Din was surprised to see her, but then again, why should he be? This was her city after all.

“Excuse me?” he retorted in a familiar manner.

But Lysa glanced up at him for the first time, quirking an eyebrow in his direction playfully.

“I said, are you jealous?” she said with a nod over towards IG-11, who was stood shaking hands with a small child.

But when Din remained silent, she gave a huge roll of her eyes.

“Of the Marshal’s shiny new armour. I’d say it’s on a par with yours…” she tilted her head staring over at the droid. “...or maybe his just takes the edge.”

At her words, Din let out a snort.

“Mine is beskar armour. His is just metal alloy and durasteel, there's absolutely no competition,” quipped Din.

He was enjoying the recent repertoire between them.

But Lysa just gave a smirk, bumping her hip with his.

“Hmmm you keep telling yourself that, Mandalorian.”

Din couldn't help but chuckle behind his helmet, looking back over to the crowd, ignoring the feeling of his heart beginning to beat a drumbeat inside his ribcage.

“So…you want to walk me to the market?” said Lysa suddenly, giving him another playful nudge, and gesturing with the basket in her hand.

Din looked her way, blinking for a moment. “Why? Do you need a chaperone?”

Lysa gave a smirk. “No. But I do want the company,” she said turning and pacing slowly away, before looking back at him over her shoulder. “Come on, Din Djarin.”

At this Din couldn't help but grin, letting out a faux-tired sigh.

“Fine,” he muttered, as he followed her a few steps.

Glancing over to where Karga was stood beside Grogu and IG-11, the Mandalorian gave a shout.

“You mind keeping an eye on the kid for me?”

Karga immediately looked his way, before his eyes travelled to Lysa, a knowing smile teasing at his lips.

“No problem. He’s enjoying himself. You should do the same,” said the now-High Magistrate in a suggestive tone, causing Din to roll his eyes.

He let out a huff, before falling into step with Lysa, who peered back to Grogu and the others.

“So…” she said gently after they had turned the corner. “Can I ask.....Grogu is your…..son?”

“Yes,” said Din matter-of-factly. “I adopted him recently. But it feels like he’s been in my life for a long time.”

Lysa offered him a smile.

“You’re sweet with him,” she said in a gentle tone. “And I did wonder what the deal was…”

Din looked her way, frowning. “What do you mean?”

But Lysa gave a small shrug, avoiding his eye.

“Well…you know you don't exactly look alike, and I didnt want to offend…” she said quickly with a shake of her head, the tops of her cheeks turning pink. “Interspecies procreation isn't a dirty word anymore…and so I didn't want to presume…”

She trailed off, her cheeks now completely red.

“He’s adopted,” reiterated Din. “There was no procreation involved…well not by me anyway.”

The Mandalorian quickly cleared his throat. Right now he was glad he had his helmet on. because it wasn't only Lysa’s face that had turned red.

“I mean…” Din gave another cough, before giving up all hope of rescuing this conversation.

The pair were silent a few long moments, as they walked down the cobbled winding street together, side by side.

“So you said you were born in Naboo,” Din said conversationally, his heart thudding in his chest. What the hell was wrong him today? “That where you grew up too?”

Lysa gave a slow nod.

“Yes, it was a great place to live,” she said, her voice sounding distant.

“So why did you decide to leave?” asked Din carefully.

He noticed the blonde woman worrying at her lips for a moment before answering.

“My parents died when I was seventeen,” she said in a gentle voice. “There was a fire…in their shop and….well, I didn’t have anything to stick around for after that. So I hitched a lift and went from planet to planet for a while….and then a year ago we arrived here on Nevarro.”

Din stared at her for a long moment, knowing that there was a lot she had missed out of her life story. Lots that she obviously hadn't wanted to detail to Din.

Lysa seemed just a handful of years younger than him and yet that didn't mean she had lived any less of a life than he had.

Din was quiet for a moment pondering whether he should ask his next question. But before he knew it, the words were already spilling from his lips.

“This where you met Crix? Nevarro?”

Din hoped that it was a fairly new relationship and one that would end perhaps as quickly as it had begun.

But to his annoyance Lysa shook her head.

“No,” she said, avoiding Din’s eye, her voice full of something the Manadalorian couldnt quite put his finger on. “We’ve been together about…um….probably about four, maybe five years. Me and him…well we travelled around for a bit and then….well one day Crix decided that we should move here.”

“And you didn't want to?” asked Din, his voice sounding low through his modulator.

Lysa gave a slight shrug.

“Well when we moved here it was a ruin,” she said staring around her. “It wasn't like this.”

The street around them was bustling with people of all shape, size and creed. The buildings in this central part of the city, mostly re-built, standing proud all around them.

Din noticed Lysa stare at the ground for a long few seconds before speaking again.

“Crix was a different guy when I met him,” she explained, sounding as though she had to explain. But her face looked pained and sad. An expression Din had not seen on her before, the woman who, to him, forever exuded warmth and light. “He was so funny and just a great guy to be around. But…it’s like…….travelling around…it’s like places like this have made him bitter, like he realised that not everything in this star system revolves around men like him anymore. The last two planets we stayed on for a while…he struggled to find work. And then to keep a job. He started gambling, falling in with the wrong crowd…”

But Lysa stopped suddenly, almost visibly shaking herself. She blinked a couple of times before reddening again. “...anyway it doesn't matter.” She gave a small almost-masked sigh as they approached the Bazaar, before pursing her lips and carrying on as if her small outburst had never happened. “Ok first thing on my list are warted limes.”

And with that she walked towards a large stall full of fruit, as Din stopped where he was.

He stared after her for a very long moment, watching as she fixed a bright smile onto her face. A smile that had been completely absent just a moment or so ago.

And so, with his eyes on nothing but her, Din followed Lysa over to the stall. The fresh fruit offerings, not the only thing drawing him there.

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#the mandalorian #din djarin #din grogu #din smut #din fluff #din djarin oc #din djarin reader #mando #manod oc #mando imagine #din djarin fluff #din djarin fic #mandalorian fanfic #din imagine #mando fluff #mando smut

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welikethoseoddslove · 2 years

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Adventure (A Din x reader story pt.6)

Warnings: 18+, injuries, mando holds you down, masturbation (f and m), leather kink if ya squint, gif not mine

Pairing Mando x reader

Previous Ch Summary: You have been beat up pretty badly trying to stay with the Kid, your rib is broken and you're left helpless outside the facility they are keeping the Child in. The Mandalorian comes back for you both and is now treating your broken rib as you lay in his bed.

“Your right side, yes?” He asked softly.

You smiled at him, nodding appreciatively, you undid the blanket and propped yourself up a bit on your elbows.

“I…I can’t-“ you struggle with how to say your range of motion has been decreased so much that you can’t undo the fastenings on your tight shirt. He understands. Wordlessly undoing each fastening and easing you out of them until you’re laying in just your bra and pants looking up at the ceiling.

You turn your head a bit to the side and down and watch him study your bruised side. He places the cream on the floor and takes his right glove off. Leaving it down at the edge of the bed.

Your chest heaves as his pointer and middle finger reach into the pot of cream and come out wet. They are strong looking and thick-maybe it was the sleep deprivation getting to you but seeing them together, and covered in-

Your thighs clenched together.

He places the pads of his fingers on the edge of your extending bruise and you yelp. At the noise he looks up at you. You see the reflection of yourself in his dark visor.

Maker, is that what you look like? Positively wrecked, tits heaving-hmm, you looked good for feeling like you could die any second,

You start to chuckle at your situation but your stomach moving against where his fingers are trying to rub the cream in makes an incredible pain shoot through you.

He looks at you straight in the eyes, all you can see is your almost naked reflection, but you stare back.

“This is going to hurt, but I need you to stay as still as possible, the quicker I can get this on the better. Bite down.” Distracted by your own image you didn’t realize he was holding his discarded leather glove out in front of your lips.

“Open.”

You physically have to fight the urge to moan at the command. But you open your mouth and bite down on the rolled up glove. You can feel yourself getting wet. Stars, (y/n), get your mind out of the gutter, he’s just applying-

A firm hand holds down your left hip. The pressure is exhilarating. Until you realize why he’s doing it. Too keep you from twisting around when he-

His left hand makes quick work of rubbing in the cool cream. Shockwaves of pain shoot through you and you fight against the hand holding your hip to the bed, trying to get away from it. After what felt like forever, of writhing around, he takes his hands off of you.

“The ointment needs a few minutes to soak in and maybe then you can get sleep."

He said without looking back up at your face, gingerly placing the blanket back over you. Not-you notice-trying to put your shirt back on, though.

As he stands you look up at him, his glove still between your lips…beads of sweat starting on your brow, still panting from the fight you put up.

He swallows, hoping you don’t hear.

He bends down and takes the glove from your mouth.

“I’ll see you in the morning” he says gruffly

“Thank you.” You say up to him. He turns and leaves without acknowledging it.

The Mandalorian walks towards the cockpit. He’s hoped beyond hope she hadn’t just seen the large bulge in his pants.

The cockpit, the only other place he can think to go where he could have some privacy, the only other place apart from his bedroom, where a shirtless woman is laying. Where he had just…put his hands all over her.

And did her thighs press together when he asked her to bite down on his glove, or was he imagining it?

He slumps down in the pilot’s chair and groans. His pants are tight and uncomfortable. He takes off his other glove and throws it on the command center with the other one…he gets distracted by how the other one still has her teeth marks on it…and some of her spit…

His head falls forward with a moan as he palms the tight fabric containing his rapidly hardening cock.

He clicks a button that shuts the door behind him.

Back in his bed your side begins to go numb. It’s bliss not being able to feel the rib anymore. But it lets you focus on other-more pressing feelings…

Like the hot throbbing of your pussy. You slide a hand down under your pants, just running a finger over your underwear feels like heaven. You gasp at how pent up you are.

You realize you hadn’t touched yourself since you stayed at the valley, sharing a small house with the old man hadn’t amounted to having much-private time. This was long overdue.

You slipped your hands below your underwear and felt how wet you had become. It was dangerous what that man could do to you without even meaning to. You reached your other hand up and rolled your nipple under your bra between your fingers, pinching it, you gave a deep moan and began to circle your clit.

You replayed how you writhed against him, but his large hand was never moved, splayed across your hip.

The complete submission you felt when you opened your mouth to accept his glove.

How his thick fingers had dipped into the pot of ointment and came out covered…

Now I know you wanna keep reading, here you go.

#mando x reader #the mandalorian #din x reader #mando the himbo #mando x you #din x y/n #din fanfic #mando #the mandalorian x reader #18+ mandalorian #the mandalorian smut #mando smut #din smut #pedro pascal smut #pedro x you #din djarin #din the daddy #din djarin x reader #din dijarin fanfiction

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l0caltiredgirl · 4 months

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when i want fluff/angst fics and all i’m getting is smut

the struggle is real

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deantavias · 1 year

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"it's unhealthy to read fanfiction"

well i'm doing my 20 minutes of daily reading so...

#sam winchester x reader #dean winchester x reader #din dijarin x reader #bellamy blake x reader #peeta mellark x reader #loki x reader #bucky barnes x reader #pietro maximoff x reader #jay halstead x reader #spencer reid x reader #tony stark x reader #jj maybank x reader #rafe cameron x reader #sam winchester smut #rafe cameron smut #spencer reid smut #bellamy blake smut

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fixforthesoul · 6 months

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OPEN LETTER TO FANFICTION WRITERS ON ACCESSIBILITY; PLEASE READ.

first of all, thank you for spending your time, seldom acknowledged and definitely deserving of a compensation you are not receiving, to entertain us. i’m speaking on behalf of more than just blind readers, but everyone. you’re sick as hell.

i’ve summoned you to provide some information you may not already know. i know a lot of you like fonts. especially those who cross post their work on wattpad. i admire any and all acts of aestheticism to a degree, and can understand the desire to use them. (blind folk, sorry y’all. momma’s making a point.) 𝔰𝔱𝔲𝔣𝔣 𝔩𝔦𝔨𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔰, it’s cute. 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐟𝐟 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 is a little cuter to me, if i had to choose. or maybe 𝓈𝑜𝓂𝑒𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈?

now, sighted folk: if you’re on mobile, i implore you to participate in a little exercise for me. select this text and scroll through all the copy/paste/define/‘search the web’ options until you get to the speak portion. if you need to change a setting for your phone to do so, would you mind? i’d really appreciate it.

please make your phone read aloud part of my post, and be sure to include any bits with those super cute fonts. 𝕚’𝕝𝕝 𝕥𝕒𝕔𝕜 𝕠𝕟𝕖 𝕠𝕟 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕖𝕟𝕕 𝕠𝕗 𝕞𝕪 𝕡𝕝𝕖𝕒, 𝕣𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕖. 𝕚 𝕙𝕠𝕡𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕚𝕤 𝕥𝕣𝕒𝕟𝕤𝕝𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕔𝕠𝕣𝕣𝕖𝕔𝕥𝕝𝕪, 𝕚 𝕕𝕠𝕟’𝕥 𝕨𝕒𝕟𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕝𝕖𝕤𝕤𝕠𝕟 𝕥𝕠 𝕓𝕖 𝕤𝕢𝕦𝕒𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕣𝕖𝕕 𝕓𝕪 𝕥𝕪𝕡𝕠𝕤 𝕚 𝕔𝕒𝕟’𝕥 𝕤𝕖𝕖.

whether you participated and discovered it for yourself or you thought this was a crock of shit you’d rather not sniff, i’ll tell you! screen readers cannot dictate words using those fonts. at least, on a majority of devices. not mine, or any of my mutuals elsewhere.

you do not have to change your behavior on my behalf, but please be aware that fonts limit access to your work.

blind readers do exist, i exist, and i am bound by the same feelings of dogged longing that make other sad horny bitches read angsty, smutty, father-wounded nonsense.

thanks for making it this far. i really hope my sincerity is being conveyed, reading makes me so happy and i’m not the only person on this app who relies on accessibility settings more often than not. do with this information what you will, and have the day you deserve!

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sinsofsummers · 10 months

Text

push & pull

5.7k | din djarin x f!reader

summary: after convincing him to help you hide from the guild, you teach mando how to enjoy himself. this is the way. warnings: smut (duh), 18+, mdni. canon-typical violence, but otherwise it's super canon divergent. din is a touch-starved virgin, soft touches, lap-sitting, the helmet stays on, mask kink, din does lots of whimpering, experienced!reader, mutual masturbation, virginity loss (m), praise kink, creampie, brief aftercare at the end. note: look me in the eye and tell me he wouldn't crumble at the thought of skin-to-skin contact. yeah. you can't. anyways this is so long and so self-indulgent. pls forgive me. if mando takes his helmet off by the end of this, mind ur business this is sooooo not canon. note p.2: i'm so sorry this took so long but i was hungover. also this was not meant to be this long. so count this as a big fat thank you for 1.4k as well as my bday present to you guys (for my bday.) impaired editing i apologize.

With the light of both suns in your eyes, forcing you to blink the spots from your vision, you brushed a hand across your forehead. The dry, dusty atmosphere of Tatooine was no joke, and you scowled under the cloth you'd brought with you to cover your mouth and nose.

"Figures," you mumbled to yourself, looking down to see a small pile of sand building on the tops of your boots, the wind blowing it into place. "Why would anyone choose to live here?"

Of course, you weren't looking for a resident; you were looking for a fugitive. The infamous Mandalorion, no less. You'd been given less-than-satisfactory information on the bounty hunter and the reasons for such a high reward for his capture, but it wasn't like you had much choice than to accept the job. Despite what you told yourself, you did actually need the money.

That was before you'd figured out that everyone else in the Guild had been tasked with the same job, turning a high stakes bounty hunting gig into a near-definite suicide mission. Something you didn't want anything to do with.

But alas, here you stood, practically sinking into the hot Tatooine desert. You had to keep shifting your weight to keep at least one foot above the surface. You never knew when you'd have to make a quick getaway. There were still a handful of Guild members left that presented a challenge to collecting your bounty, and of course they were the most dangerous ones.

You kicked a foot forward and watched the sand shift, cursing the trouble that was inevitably on its way. You'd managed to bribe your way to Tatooine, where the Mandalorian was apparently hiding from the Guild. And if you had found the Mandalorian, there was almost no possibility that the others hadn't found him.

Because, if you were being honest with yourself—the one task you excelled in—being a bounty hunter wasn't exactly something you were good at. In fact, you were far from it. With luck and just enough anxiety to keep your feet moving, you'd floundered your way through three years in the Guild, searching for a way out just as quickly as you'd begged for a way in.

So you'd gotten yourself into this mess. Wasn't that how it normally went, though? Quick decision-making skills weren't necessarily a blessing if the decisions you made would determine your chances of living past thirty (spoiler: the chances were significantly slimmer).

You rubbed the dust out of your eyes once more and saw some movement in the distance, the subtle glint of beskar blinking toward you as it reflected the sunlight. Gotcha, you murmured inwardly. The Mandalorian was here, and you were going to get him. Not to turn him in, no; you held no loyalty to the Guild and its cult-like policies.

This job was an escape mission. If he could stay hidden, maybe he had room for one more. You'd cut a deal.

There had to be something you could offer him, if not your skills in combat, or stealth, or—

Or simply human mobility, you groaned inwardly as you felt your ankle roll underneath you, the sand softer than you'd anticipated. It'll be a good day when I leave this damn place.

—

It was a wonder that the two of you had survived. You'd hardly gotten the chance to give your proposal before he was aiming his blaster at you, and then at the Guild members that showed up in droves behind you. It was all you could do to get out of the way, knowing you'd be hopeless in the fight.

Now, with their bodies scattered around your feet, the Mandalorian standing a few feet from you with his chest heaving, and his beloved ship somehow still functional, you had your chance.

"You're not...very good at this," he said, the helmet masking his voice in a way that made it scratch along the insides of your ears as it traveled to your brain. "You do know that?" he asked, but it sounded more like an accidental insult than a real question.

You threw your hands up, letting them fall heavily to your sides. "Yeah, I told you that," you scoffed. "That's why I'm asking to go with you. Wherever you're headed."

His head tilted, the beskar shining in the setting suns, and you wondered what his eyes looked like under that helmet. Would they be sparkling with mirth or lined with mockery?

"I thought you were kidding," he said sheepishly, shifting his weight. "To get me to underestimate you." He looked like the picture of careful relaxation, although his blaster was still held tightly in both hands, poised in case he needed to aim and fire.

You couldn't help the exasperation in your tone as you lifted your head to the sky, squeezing your eyes shut and placing a curled fist over your eyes. "Why would I do that when I don't want to turn you in?"

He didn't answer.

"You know that there's only two ways out of this, right?" He still didn't answer you, just held his blaster taut and his head tilted to the side, so you continued. "You killed every Guild member that's left. Now it's just you and I. If I don't bring you in—which I'm not exactly dying to do—those rich fucks that are more powerful than us are gonna come find us."

"Find you," he corrected. "Why would I want to add another target to my ship?"

You shrugged. "Yeah, they probably will. But that's only part of the first option. Either they come for me, and you leave me here, and I die—also something I'm not particularly thrilled to think about—or the two of us..." you gestured with your hands to imitate the pair of you getting on the Razor Crest and flying away from Tatooine and its dusty expanse of a landscape.

"Could be a third option," he said quietly, "if you think about it." He lifted his blaster until it was lined up with your chest. "I might just kill you and cut my losses."

Fear might have struck you, but you didn't have the energy to entertain the panic unspooling in your chest. "That wouldn't be very humanitarian of you. Besides," you insisted, hands lifting to portray the image of surrender, "I'm light. I'm quiet. I won't stay with you longer than I need to. Once you get me off this planet, I'll find a place for you to drop me off."

He didn't answer for a moment.

"Literally," you pushed once more, "you can open the back door and push me out for all I care. I just want out of the Guild and all their dumb shit."

You'd known Mandalorians to be quiet, pious, and ruthless, but something about the way his helmet betrayed no hint to what he was thinking or how he might respond...it made you more anxious than you'd ever been in your life. Finally, he spoke, his voice calm. "Well...you're not coming with me. Ship's full."

"Your ship?" you said, incredulous. "That thing would be gone without me."

"Damn luck, that was." His voice had gone hard, but his body was still.

This was...partially true. Your mind flashed with a memory of the way you'd accidentally pulled the trigger on one of your blasters, effectively stunning the last Guild member who'd been attempting to strap explosives to the hull of the Crest. It was the only good thing that you'd done all day.

You curled your lip, annoyance rippling off you in waves. Lifting a middle finger in front of the helmet, you scowled. Hope he can see this under all that beskar, you snarled inwardly. "Still counts."

With a soft huff that you could hear come from under his helmet, the Mandalorian lowered his blaster. "One jump into hyperspace. The first little space rock that's big enough to stand on—"

"Perfect," you interrupted firmly. "I'll be out of you...armor...soon enough."

—

You'd missed your stop about three years ago. One jump into hyperspace had turned into four, and then ten, and...now you had your own spot to rest your head at night on the Razor Crest.

On that first day, you hadn't known the Mandalorian—"Din Djarin," he'd introduced himself reluctantly one day—was still traveling with Grogu, the sweet child that had begun his journey across the galaxy, hiding from the Guild. But you'd quickly decided it was nice to have another partner in crime, to interact with whenever Din was in the middle of one of his quiet days.

As the days had turned into months, and subsequently into years, the inability to meet Din face-to-face had become less frustrating, although sometimes you wished you could sneak a glance at his hands, or his wrists, or something that might resemble the human underneath the armor.

Once in awhile, deliciously, you could tilt your head just the right way and look forward at him when he was in the cockpit, his helmet pulling away from the cloth under his armor. Between helmet and armor, a sliver of golden skin would glimmer back at you, just begging to be touched. Of course, you never gave in to your silent desires.

This was not the Mandalorian way; you knew this well. Even when you felt his head turned toward you, even when you were sure his hands were reaching for you when you needed his help climbing somewhere, you kept your distance.

Well, for as long as you could. Until he forced your hand.

It wasn't long before you were unable to keep your hands away from him; going up and down the ladder on the Crest, or climbing over the occasional boulder on the routes you walked along when forced to take a respite on an unknown planet. His gloves were always rough in your grip, but you couldn't ignore the way his hands seemed to squeeze yours, tighter than might have been necessary.

And you'd begun letting your hands linger on the beskar of his armor for moments longer than you should—his helmet, tracing the indented curves of the spot where his cheekbones rested underneath, or on his chestplate, where you swore you could feel him lean into you, as if pressing your hands closer and closer to his skin beneath the armor.

You stood beside him as he sat in the chair in the cockpit, guiding the Razor Crest through the galaxy once more, aiming for some undisclosed location he'd neglected to tell you. He usually did things like that; you'd learned not to be offended by his unbreakable instinct to keep things to himself.

It hadn't occurred to you just how long he'd been wearing that helmet until you looked toward him again and noticed the soft curl of a few brown strands of hair that crept from the edges, kissing the back of his neck. They were short strands, but they were long enough to wink up at you as they curled around each other, begging to be touched.

"Din?" you asked, hoping to distract yourself from the thought.

He didn't look at you, but he tilted his head in your direction, just a centimeter. It was enough.

"Why'd you let me stay with you?" you gripped your hands together, as if they had a mind of their own and couldn't be trusted to remain at your sides. "I was horrible at any aspect of being a bounty hunter."

You were used to the way that it always took him a few seconds to answer, coming up with an evenly-expressed response. This, of course, gave you more time to stare at the tendrils spilling from the edges of his helmet.

"You were a risk," he admitted with a shrug, the helmet (of course) not betrayed anything. His voice was calm, even as he continued softly. "I have a particular...proclivity for picking up foundlings," he said with a tilt of his head toward Grogu, who cooed at the mention of him.

You lifted an eyebrow. "I'm not a foundling, though."

If you could have seen his eyes, you were almost positive that they'd be giving you a look that said, are you sure? Instead, he only spoke in his perpetually smooth voice. "You were lost, though, mesh'la."

You still weren't sure what each word in Mando'a meant—he'd been dropping a few words here and there, as if he knew you couldn't interpret them—but you blushed all the same. Before you knew it, your hands were releasing their grip on one another and reaching up to comb through the curls at the base of his neck.

They were softer than you'd imagined; smooth and thick in your grip. "Alright," you said gently, "maybe I was. I never got to thank you, you know."

Your hands were moving on their accord now, silently twirling the curls around the tips of your fingers. You were used to his silent, immobile exterior, so you didn't think he'd be able to feel the way you pressed your hand to the back of his neck. He'd never said anything before that gave the impression that he was aware of your ministrations, so when he leaned back into your touch then, something strong and addiction bloomed in your gut.

When he spoke, you were surprised to hear how shaky his voice was. After three years of hearing nothing but steady syllables fall from his masked lips, you nearly flinched at the stutter in his voice.

"Thank me?" he said quietly. "For..." you could have sworn you felt his heartbeat flutter rapidly in his neck when he trailed off. "For what?"

You pulled your hand away, pretending not to notice the way he shuddered at the loss of touch, his shoulders slumping as if in a pained relaxation. You hid your smirk. "You're not seriously asking that, right? Without you, I'd probably be dead by now." Or worse, you reflected with a quiet pang in your chest.

Din's response was quick this time, an unusual—but not unwelcome—surprise. "And without your perfectly timed luck, I might be without a ship." His voice was thick, trembling with something that might have sounded like desire had it been someone else speaking.

You didn't even think Din had the capacity to know something as heavy as desire. Well, not that he was incapable of feeling desire, just...you'd never thought about what he might do if he did feel it. Would he shove the temptations down, destined to die in the corners of his mind and body?

Your cheeks warmed at your next thought. Perhaps he took care of it himself in the dead of night on the Razor Crest, or on those mysteriously long patrol walks that he insisted on doing alone.

"Yeah, well..." your answer was pitiful and you knew it. But you were too busy looking at the way his body was slumped in his seat, facing forward despite every limb beginning to turn toward you, as if you were a magnetic beacon.

His fingers twitched in his gloves, angling toward you just as his knees began to do the same thing. "Will you..." he trailed off, clearing his throat awkwardly. "Mesh'la," he breathed, and he leaned to the side, as if his shoulder was chasing your touch. "Put it back."

You were going to ask what he meant, but you didn't have to. Even with his helmet on, you could practically see the pleading in his body language. Here he was, a devout Mandalorian, begging you to put your hands back on him.

"Please," he said quietly, almost a question. It sounded so unlike him that you wondered briefly if he'd been killed and replaced with an imposter. But by the way that his hand trembled as he took his focus away from flying the Crest and moved it toward you...this was Din.

"You...okay?" you asked, but you obliged his request in return, replacing your hand at the base of his neck. You watched in an unfurling dizzying sense of satisfaction as he reached up his own gloved hand to cover yours, squeezing it gently. "Din," you started, but he shook his head.

"I've never disobeyed the Way of the Mandalore," he said, his voice muffled under the mask. You strained your eyes, wishing you could see beneath the beskar. "I've never wanted to. Not before..." he brought your hand around to rest on his chestplate, and you could feel the pressure of his chest leaning into your touch. "Not before I knew what it might feel like to want someone like this."

Your eyes widened, but you didn't pull your hand away. "You...what?"

His head tilted down. "For once, I don't know how to manage this." He stood up, and suddenly he was towering over you, the cloth under his armor making your fingers itch to tear it off. "How do I manage this?"

"I..." you couldn't hide your shock. "I don't know. It's...isn't it against your religion? It's not the Way."

Din shook his head. "No, it's not." He spread his hand down your wrist and extended it toward your own chest, the leather of his glove seeping into your skin. "But I've also never told anyone my name. Never heard it spoken since I was a child."

You swallowed roughly. "So?"

He huffed a chuckle. Lifting your hands to his helmet, he let your fingers find the divots of the beskar. You didn't miss the way his chest shuddered with a stuttering breath at your touch. "So," he said, "to hell with the Way. For tonight, at least. I need to know you in every way I wish I could."

Such a harrowing request, given the circumstances. But you couldn't stop your hands from tracing the lines of his masked face. "Din..."

"Please." His voice cracked over the single syllable, and it was all you needed.

To hell with the Way, your thoughts echoed his words, and you nodded softly. "Alright," you acquiesced. With one look down, you saw the tent growing in his pants, sending a spike of desire down your spine, settling in your core. "How'll you have me?" you asked.

He let out a soft noise that sounded like a whimper. "Any way that I can," he choked out, his hand returning to your wrist and enclosing it in his grip. "I'll have you any way you'll have me."

You could hardly speak, so you didn't. With a gentle nudge, you pushed him back into his seat. When he sat back, his legs fell open; there was an inviting space between them.

Standing in the spot, just inches from his face, you stared into the black mass of his helmet, hoping you'd get a glimpse of his face. Of course, you knew he would only go as far as he wanted to. If the mask was destined to remain, then...so be it.

With your eyes on his, you moved his hands to your waist, pressing them to your skin and enjoying the feeling of his leather against your body.

He shook his head. "Take them off," he said, again with that whimpering voice. "Please."

You nodded wordlessly and shed his hands of the barriers, heat pooling in your core at the sight of long, thick fingers, his skin finally exposed to you. Returning his hands to your waist, you tilted your head back at the sensation. You were never going to forget what his skin felt against yours.

The melody of shuddering breaths that fell from his lips was unreal, and you wanted to soak up every second of it. Without more than a second thought, you slid your legs over his, straddling his hips and pressing your chest to his chestplate. His hands remained on your waist, but he let them wander, curling them around to cup your ass.

The feeling of his hands on your body made you unconsciously roll your hips forward, which released a strangled moan from his lips. "Oh, god," he mumbled. "Mesh'la, please take it off."

You paused. Your hands fell to your lap, and your eyes were wider than saucers in the reflection of his helmet. "What?"

He picked up your hands in his own, the rub of skin against skin an intoxicating intimacy. "Please," he begged. "If I'm going to touch you like this, I need to see you, cyar'ika. Nothing in the way."

You were going to argue further, but you couldn't ignore the pulsing need that was clouding your thoughts, the same need that pushed your hips further down into his lap. It was impossible to miss the way his cock twitched against your clit, eliciting a soft moan from your lips.

“Are you—”

“Don’t fuckin’ ask me if I’m sure,” he begged, and he squeezed your hips under his hands. “Never been more sure, mesh’la.”

This time it was your turn to let out a shaky breath. “Okay,” you whispered, more to bolster your own confidence than his own. His resolve was clearly rather strong in this matter, and nothing would change his mind.

With a hand on either side of the helmet, you gently pulled it up and away from his face, hardly able to believe that he’d agreed to let you rid him of his every barrier. For a moment, as each inch of skin was revealed to you, you caught yourself frantically wondering what he might look like.

Would he look like anyone else? Would he look familiar to you in that way that only lovers can? Or would he be hiding a deformed brow bone or an abnormally small nose or a crude smile?

Of course, you shouldn’t have even worried. When the helmet lifted off of his head and you let it fall to the floor with a hard thud, you smiled at the face that blinked back at you in wonder. With those brown strands that were just long enough to hang down over his forehead, and the matching brown eyes that twinkled with the moonlight in his pupils, Din Djarin was exquisite.

“I knew it,” you hummed, your eyes tracing every line on his face, every strand of hair that clung charmingly to his forehead.

His response was a strangled moan, and his eyes fluttered closed of their own accord when you dragged a finger along his jaw, then the hooked line of his nose. “Knew what?”

“I knew you’d be one of the pretty ones,” you grinned, and you leaned down to press your lips to his, swallowing his groan of ecstasy.

You drank it down like the sweetest liquor, the sound pulling your own moan from your chest. His lips were chapped and dry from lack of care, but his mouth was warm and wet and his tongue was deliciously shy as he darted it towards yours. His hands stuttered as they pressed further up your chest and felt for your breasts. You weren’t sure how long he’d last; his chest was already heaving.

“Din,” you pulled back with a grin. “Din,” you repeated when his eyes remained closed. “Thought you wanted to look at me?”

“I do,” he said, his voice choking in his throat. “I do, mesh’la, I just…I think I might come in my damn suit if I look at those lips too long.”

You cooed, letting a hand search for the roots of his hair, finding a home on his scalp. You curled your fingers in the strands and watched his eyes squeeze shut, his jaw go slack, and felt his hips buck up into yours. “You’re so sensitive, baby,” you hummed, your mind running wild with thoughts of what this could mean.

“Never been touched like this,” he mumbled, voice cracking again. “Feels perfect, mesh’la.”

“I need you to look at me, Din,” you nodded. “It’ll keep feeling good, I promise. I just need you to look at me.”

When his eyes opened, you could have fallen apart right there at the sight of his glassy brown depths. His lip quivered and you almost thought he’d cry, but then he was letting his hand fall from your chest to your waistband, trailing his thumb along the skin there. “Can I?” he asked gently.

Nodding, you stood up. “Just keep breathing, pretty boy,” you said softly. “I’ll make you feel good. Show you just how good it can be.” You guided his hands to your waist and let him pull your pants to your ankles, revealing the front of your glistening slit to him.

Din was just starting to understand the drug-like effects of physical touch, so you weren’t surprised when he leaned forward, fell to his knees, and pressed his forehead to the soft skin of your stomach, breathing deeply as if he were a zealot bent to pray at the altar.

“C’mere,” you whispered, though unable to hide the growing smirk on your face. There seemed to be nothing more addicting than the sight of the Mandalorian on his knees before you. “Sit back down for me, baby,” you said, tilting his chin up to look at you. “Take those pants off, they look awfully restricting.”

He nodded quickly and obeyed, slipping his pants down to his knees as he sat back on his chair. It was downright sinful—the beskar on his chest but his helmet removed and his cock springing free, the tip red and angry and leaking. “Please,” he begged. “I—”

“I know,” you breathed, stepping closer to him. “We’re gonna make each other feel good now, yeah?”

Din nodded once more, his eyes fluttering shut. “Please, please.”

Well, how were you going to deny him then?

You straddled him once more, your clit throbbing at the sight of his cock underneath you. But rather than shock him with the feeling of your pussy milking him for all he was worth, you hovered over him, just enough that the head of his cock lay just an inch from your entrance.

“Mesh’la,” he begged, “please don’t tease. I’ll be good. I’ll make you feel good, I swear to everything I’ve ever believed in—”

A finger pressed to his lips, you shook your head. “I know,” you repeated. “Deep breaths for me, Din.”

He inhaled sharply and shoved his breath out of his chest. For a moment, his eyes cleared.

“Good,” you encouraged him, relishing in the look of his wide eyes at the praise. “Such a pretty boy, baby.” You moved his hand to your core, guiding his fingers to your clit. “Rub little circles for me, baby. Make me feel good and I’ll make you feel good.”

He obliged quickly, rubbing tentative circles to your clit in a way that had you smiling gently, loving the sacrilege you were participating in. “Is that g—oh!”

Din’s question was interrupted by your hand reaching down to grip his cock, delivering a quick stroke and making his hips stutter. He tried his best to lift his hips from the chair, clearly aiming for your entrance, but one hand on the beskar on his chest had him sitting back.

“It’s okay, baby,” you cooed, “just like that. Just touch me for a while.”

Ever the gentleman, Din kept his eyes on you and his hand on your pussy, pulling sweet sounds from your lips just as you wrecked him beneath you. Your thumb slid against his tip and he almost came; you could tell by the way his breath caught in his throat and his eyes squeezed shut, lip trapped between his teeth.

You wanted his fingers to wander toward your dripping entrance, but you knew he might not last long enough for any more foreplay. Next time, you thought smugly.

Now…now you needed him inside you.

“Gentle, baby,” you reminded him when he gripped your hip too tightly. You didn’t want to tell him you enjoyed the near-bruising strength; that would be for another time. You could already see that you were close to losing him, and you weren’t going to end this experience without riding him until the both of you saw stars. “One more deep breath, yeah?”

He was a mess of tumbling words in Mando’a that you didn’t understand, and his brow was furiously furrowed, as if it was taking all of his focus not to come on your hand. As a matter of fact, it probably was taking all of his focus. “Please, mesh’la,” he said again.

You wondered briefly if you’d begin answering that now; treating it as your name. Mesh’la.

“Deep breath, baby,” you reminded him, and when he obeyed, you sank your hips towards his. The tip of his cock slid in with no resistance; you were wetter than you’d ever been in your life. “Good boy,” you moaned as you kept your hand on his neck, softly cupping the underside of his jaw to look at you. “So fuckin’ pretty like this.”

The stretch of his cock inside you was delicious, and pleasure licked sharply at your insides, begging for a quick release. You knew he wouldn’t be able to hold himself together much longer based on the whimpers that still crumbled from his throat, broken and jagged.

“So fuckin’ pretty?” he repeated, his voice a high squeak. He gripped your hips and threw his head back. “So fuckin’ pretty for you?”

Your breath rushed out of your chest in a strong blow and you had to take a deep breath yourself to calm down. “All for me, Din, that’s it,” you continued, and you lifted your hips up. Dropping them back into his lap, you soaked up the feeling of being filled so completely by his cock. With every shred of patience left in your body, you pushed your lips back to his and tasted his moans on his tongue.

His hips began lifting into your own, the only clue you’d get to his desperation for more. Without a word, you began moving faster, more rhythmically, as you bounced gently on his cock. With the base of his cock pulsing against your clit at every drop of your hips, you were approaching that edge quicker and quicker. “Din,” you moaned, “baby, I’m gonna—”

“Please,” he said, “I want you to feel good, mesh’la. Use me, please, use me, please…”

You were sure your brain short circuited. With no more patience left in your bones, you picked up the pace and chased your own orgasm, knowing he wasn’t far behind. With every squelch of your pussy on his cock, your moans became less coherent, and you leaned your head forward against his neck.

Pulling back to press a kiss to his jaw, you felt his loins tense beneath you. Something nearly snapped inside you at the sound and sight and sensation of his pleasure so close to release; at the knowledge that it was you who had done this to him. “Good,” you mumbled against his jaw, getting closer to his ear. “Pretty boy, just for me,” you mumbled.

Din’s chest tightened and his moans became longer and more high-pitched, true whimpers if you’d ever heard one. “Mesh’la,” he begged, “Mesh’la, I—”

You dipped your head down and, while grinding your hips back and forth on his cock at a feverish pace, you darted your tongue out to his neck. Licking a stripe from the crevice of his neck to the spot just behind the soft part of his ear, you groaned in his ear as you crumbled on him, releasing the tension in your body as you came hard.

Din was ruined beneath you, with his neck bobbing and his eyes shut, his head thrown back. Mouth opened in a wide moan, his voice broken over the sound, you felt his release sink into your fluttering walls. He let out a deep cry of words that you didn’t recognize, but you blushed all the same. With the way that his eyes glossed over when he said it, you were sure it was something that reeked of sin and sweat and sacrilege.

“So good,” you mumbled again, “you’ve done so good for me, Din.” Your face tucked itself into the crook of his neck, and you inhaled the heady scent that belonged only to him. You sat motionless on his lap, but you could still feel his head pulse inside you at the overstimulation. “Did that feel good?” you asked, your hand reaching up to smooth down his hair comfortingly.

He let out a breathless laugh. “If this is sin, I’ll want more of it,” he replied, his arms snaking around your middle to tug your chest closer to him. “I’ll never know how to thank you,” he finished, sighing deeply. His eyes twinkled at you when you pulled away to look at him.

You shook your head. “No need,” you assured him. “Just catch your breath, brave Mandalorian. Then we’ll talk.”

He nodded, his eyelids growing heavier with the expense of energy now catching up with him. His cock had grown soft inside you, but he made no move to lift you from him. “I did well?” he asked. This wasn’t surprising; you’d known him to be quietly confident, but the Mandalorian was never one to pass up the opportunity for someone to reassure his talents.

You grinned and leaned forward to press your lips to his hooked nose, fighting the urge to nip at it with your teeth. Next time, you reminded yourself. “You did well,” you nodded. “Feeling okay?”

He splayed his hands on your back and inhaled near your chest, his face buried into the soft skin of your breasts. “Never better,” he reassured you, rubbing his hands along your spine. “So sweet to me, baby,” he murmured, repeating your own affection back to you.

The two of you remained like that, just wrapped together in a mess of limbs and sweat and come mingling together. When he began to wince with the overstimulation, you lifted off of his cock but remained in his lap. You pulled back and leaned your forehead against his. You watched his lips, plump and sitting perfectly, waiting to be kissed again.

“What does mesh’la mean?” you asked instead, the word strange and unfamiliar on your tongue.

He looked at you for a long time, bringing a finger up to trace the line of your mouth. “Put your lips on mine again and I’ll teach you,” he offered casually, as if his pupils weren’t still blown wide, his eyelashes still fluttering from the power of his release.

You smirked. “This is the Way, huh?”

For once in his life, Din Djarin smiled at you. “This is the Way.”

tysm for reading! so glad to be back, i'm sorry if the smut scene seemed rushed and out of pace! again: i was hungover. pls forgive. lemme know what you think!

adding tags here cause i'm going grocery shopping at 8:30pm BYEEEE

this is a good morning fic for @thetriumphantpanda and the aftercare bit at the end was specifically for @cavillscurls i know u crave it girl

the rest of the taggies: @mingiast @iluvurfather @cupofjoel @morning-star-joy @darkroastjoel @tightjeansjavi @chaotic-mystery @dinsdjrn @huffle-punk @tommymilllers @milly-louise @struig @butiknewyoudlinger @alejaa-a @worhols @thegreat-annamaria @easaud @country2212 @sleepdeprived-feelalived @pertinentpostmortem @lailaispunk

#din djarin smut #din djarin x reader #din djarin x f!reader #virgin!din djarin #din djarin x experienced!reader #the mandalorian fic #the mandalorian fanfiction #mandalorian #star wars #star wars smut #star wars fic

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oliviajdjarin · 5 months

Text

Joel Miller: Stay Down

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader (she/her; afab)

Word count: 3.2k

Summary: Joel thought he had grown accustomed to fear until he finds you covered in blood.

Excerpt: He swallowed, attempting to choose his words carefully. He had never been good with them, attributing his deficiency to a long line of likewise men before him. His brain poured for sonnets, poetry, prose that he had read in his insignificant time on this planet. Something to impress you, distract you, to take away that crestfallen look in your eye.

He couldn’t do it. He never would be. So, he used his mouth for something else.

Warnings: stitching of a wound, kissing, blood, blood loss, so much yearning, unestablished relationship, probably incorrect gun talk, Joel is scared of feelings.

A/N: This is me coping with the fact that we do not get more last of us in January. Also partially inspired by my favorite song maybe ever.

Pedro Masterlist

All my writing

Joel had found his hands becoming more and more susceptible to the cold as he got older.

They would crack and bleed, flaking dried skin within his decades-old gloves before November had even begun. This not only hurt like hell, but forced him to slow down and think about what he was doing to his body for once in his life. He had a harder time gripping the reins on a horse or fingering the trigger on a shotgun. Noticeably so. And living in a small town with a little brother foaming at the mouth to make old man jokes didn't help matters.

This is what led him to you.

He wouldn't call you a hoarder. Honestly, he would be the first to admit that you were one of the smartest people in Jackson. You had somehow become one of the most materialistically rich people in the town. You consistently managed to find the most randomly useful items on your patrols, things that people before the outbreak would never have even thought to miss.

Things like shoe insoles, ball point pens, Chapstick.

And luckily for him, lotion.

You never charged anyone for taking from what you had. Furthermore, you actively asked people if they needed anything. Even offering to scout around the area in search of specifics. Joel hadn't been around that kind of softness since...

Well, a long time.

This made him uncharacteristically nervous when he first approached your doorstep, but he knocked anyway. He had never in a million years expected to leave that house satisfied in more ways than one.

He blamed it on that stupid crinkle the skin underneath your eyes got whenever you smiled at him. He couldn't help but fall into your light.

This started a... friendship. Of sorts. He would come over when he needed you, and you would happily oblige. As time went on, the visits to yours became more and more frequent, frequent enough that the rest of the town seemed to be catching on. At least, that's what his brother had been hinting at through jabs and side comments.

"You smiled at me the other day, Joel," Tommy had said. "Actually smiled."

Joel responded with a gesture he was hoping Ellie would not pick up anytime soon.

Joel was...happy. Happy with the arrangement. He had a warm body – a fucking gorgeous warm body – to get his energy out with, and the woman inside the body seemingly had no issue with his lack of strings attached.

And yet, for some reason, this annoyed him.

There was some undetectable, bruised part of him that wanted you to…what exactly? Fight him on it? Confess your undying love for him? Pull him back into bed to cuddle?

There had to be either pheromones or crack cocaine in that honeyed floral perfume you always wore. You were beginning to drive him this insane. Unfortunately for him, the place he went when he was beginning to toe that line into insanity was always you.

Joel had checked the schedule posted in the main square, assigning every able-bodied person shifts of patrol. You had a shift earlier in the day, which usually kept you busy until noon. You would then shower, eat, and spend the rest of the afternoon doing whatever the hell you wanted.

Overtime, these mental gymnastics became muscle memory to Joel.

He huffed as he lugged his aching legs up your steps, their typical milk white now coated in an ugly muddy brown. Winter had begun, apparent by the puffs of Joel’s own breaths, and the snow in Jackson was trying desperately to keep up.

Joel balled his hands into fists as he planted both feet onto your porch, blowing into them quickly, before knocking three times. Spaced out enough, but not too much. He envisioned you smiling as you heard his signature knock, but cringed at himself internally, burying the thought instantly.

It fluttered back to the surface when he heard the pads of your footsteps somewhere in the house begin but extinguished itself when they dissipated.

He waited a few more seconds, the rational part of his brain saying that you must be in the middle of something, but the man part of his brain imagining you putting on your silky red robe he loved so much, only for him to take it off you so slowly it made his own fingers shake. He breathed in deep, the laundry detergent from his nylon coat mixed with the beginnings of December filling his nose, and cracked his neck while rocking back and forth on his heels.

His eyebrows came together when he heard another rustle, then nothing.

He knocked again.

Still, nothing,

He knew you were in there – he could hear you, clear as day, and he knew you could hear him – but for some reason, you weren’t coming to the door.

His much too weathered mind began to race, thinking of three possible explanations. One, you heard him knocking, and were ignoring him. Two, you somehow were not hearing him knock on the door. Or three, you for some reason were not able to get to the door.

Meaning, there was a possibility you weren’t alone in there, and not by choice.

“Y/N?” he asked loudly. “Y/N, are you in there?”

Nothing. A bit more rustling, maybe a slight groan, but nothing.

Joel’s fingers began to tingle, and it wasn’t from the cold. He knocked again, harder.

“Y/N, I know you’re in there,” he said loudly, “just…just tell me you’re okay.”

Silence.

He gripped the doorknob and jiggled it, hard enough for the wood to groan underneath his fingertips, but it was locked from the inside. He huffed, knocking again, his hot breaths now clouding his face. He felt an ache in his wrist.

He said your name one more time, hearing the beginnings of a voice he knew better than he should have muffled by the wood, and the door was flat in front of him before he could think twice.

He stomped his way inside, coating the ground with mud and snow, and his eyes darted around the familiar living room. His vision was tunneled, scrounging for the shape of you on the floor, draped over the couch, held at gunpoint. His heart pulsed in his ears.

You weren’t in the living room.

He stomped into the kitchen, the bathroom, the basement, nothing. All that was left was the bedroom.

There was no way in hell you were still asleep.

He practically sprinted to the room, preparing himself. He had seen what men did to women, the remnants of it anyway, and despite his state of denial, he could never in a million years handle the sight of you that way. In your own bed. In your own house. Likely one of your own friends.

He pulled open the door anyway, and was met with gold.

The room was dim except for the lamps you loved so dearly, spreading their warm, glowing, honeyed light across the room in streaks. He blinked his eyes to adjust, focusing in on your body on the bed. You were facing him, skin painted with similar golden streaks, highlighting the tears culminating under your eyes. You were sat crisscrossed, upper body totally bare, back slouched tightly, your body practically folded in on itself. Your right hand was pressed against your left shoulder blade, while your other was filled with wine-colored rags.

Blood-soaked rags.

His eyes met yours quickly, and despite their dampness, they still had that fucking crinkle.

You chuckled, your shoulders dropping up and down quickly as they always do.

“You know,” you said, voice curdled and tired, “if someone doesn’t answer the door, that’s usually them saying ‘leave me the hell alone.”

You chuckled again, this time finishing it off with a wince.

His hand slid slowly from the doorknob as he took a hesitant step towards you, his body tearing itself in half. One side begging to fold your body into him, bubbling you in a cocoon. The other, itching to tear whatever did this to you apart ligament by ligament.

Your eyes slowly drooped from humor to something like shame, like a kicked dog or a broken child, and he stepped forward again.

“Don’t,” you countered weakly. “Just…just don’t.”

You scooted away from him slightly, refusing to look at him, and applied more pressure to whatever was expelling that much blood from your shoulder. Pain was suddenly present in your face.

“You want me to leave?” he quickly countered.

You said nothing.

He walked to you, removing the hand you had pressed against your wound, and sucked in a quick breath.

“Probably the first time you’ve seen a revolver bullet in about twenty years, huh Joel?” you asked, chuckling once more.

He barely heard you.

You had gotten the bullet out, but it had sunken in deep. The skin around it was red and welting, so swollen that Joel had to guess you had already been working on it for at least an hour. He winced, imagining what kind of pain you were in, and the fact that you were dealing with it all yourself.

He swallowed grimly.

“Hand me that rag,” he said. He could tell how little strength you had left to fight him by how quickly the rag flopped into his hand.

He pressed it to the wound, and you hissed.

“Fuck Joel,” you whined, squeezing the covers of your bed so tightly your knuckles went white. He held his pressure, forcing himself to think straight.

He might as well have been feeling the pain in his own shoulder.

He finally eased his pressure, wiping away as much blood from the area as he could.

“You cleaned it pretty well,” he said softly, voice thick in his throat, so thick it was hard to speak. “But…it’s gonna need a stich or two.”

“Or seven,” you said, grabbing the first aid kit sat in the middle of the bed. You opened the bag with shaking hands, taking out the needle and thread. You attempted to begin threading the needle, but with your hands quaking so fiercely you only produced frustrated grunts and sighs. He moved to the front of the bed, the front of his body facing yours, and took the needle and thread from your hands, setting them to the side. He then held your hands in his, squeezing them slightly, before using one to tilt your chin up at him.

He sighed at the storm in your eyes.

“What happened?”

“Did you kick my fucking door down?”

“What happened?”

“I was stupid, that’s what happened.”

He sighed again. “You’ve never once been stupid.”

“Today I was.”

“How?”

“It’s how I always am.” Your voice cracked. “Thought I could pick some apples for Mrs. Lawrence down the street. She always talks about how much she loved that as a kid – a freshly picked apple. Went out too far. Felt a sudden burning in my shoulder and ended up having to take out six hunters all by myself. Six.”

A single tear dripped from your left eye, the gold from the lamps turning it to sunlight.

“I could’ve died. All for a fucking apple.”

You turned away from him again, and it took everything in him not to cup your face in his hands and turn you back to him. He had never seen you like this before. So… raw. Beaten. Trampled. Doused in self-hatred. He hated it.

And yet, he didn’t want to look away. He was slowly realizing that this was the part of you he had been desperate to see. Truth. Undercarriage. Weakness.

Human.

He swallowed, attempting to choose his words carefully. He had never been good with them, attributing his deficiency to a long line of likewise men before him. His brain poured for sonnets, poetry, prose that he had read in his insignificant time on this planet. Something to impress you, distract you, to take away that crestfallen look in your eye.

He couldn’t do it. He never would be. So, he used his mouth for something else.

Slowly, gentler than he ever had in his life, he brought his mouth to your cheekbone. You exhaled a prolonged breath, the heat of it cascading down the left side of his neck. It only prompted him to kiss you more, and more, and more. His lips traveling up into your hairline, across your forehead, down your nose, and finally onto your lips. His kiss there was tongueless, rather a soft press, and yet it meant more to him than any other one you had ever shared.

He could tell by your breathing that you agreed.

He pressed his forehead against yours, swallowing thickly. “I’m glad you didn’t. I don’t know…I don’t know what I would do if you did.”

Your stormy eyes turned into a sunrise, and Joel straightened his aching back to slowly remove his coat and boots. He placed them on the floor beside your bed, keeping his eyes on you the entire time. You watched him just the same, mouth propped open slightly.

He smirked as he set his things down. He then picked up the needle and thread while using his free hand to frame your face.

“I’ll be gentle,” he said, his thumb stroking your chin. “I promise.”

You nodded. “I know you will.”

His lips wanted to meet yours so badly it hurt, but he needed to stitch you. Quickly. For a wound as deep as the one you had, it should have been closed up hours ago.

He wouldn’t think about that now. He couldn’t.

He walked to the edge of the bed and turned you around, leaning you into him slightly to give your pretzeled back some support, and began.

You were surprisingly unreactive when he first inserted the needle, taking it as delicately as he possibly could. It wasn’t until he began to tug the skin together that your body showed signs of pain.

“You’re going too slow,” you mumbled softly after he finished the second stitch. “Please go faster.”

His hands began to shake at your request. He didn’t blame you. Speed would make it hurt worse, but be over with quicker. He squeezed the top of your shoulder in response, threading the needle quickly and stitching over the center of the wound.

You let out a high-pitched whine, gripping onto the comforter at your side, and he couldn’t help but kiss the back of your neck.

He let your breathing steady, then stitched again, this time kissing your shoulder blade.

Another stitch, a kiss across your shoulders.

Another stitch, a kiss down your spine.

Another stitch, a kiss on your lower back.

After every stitch, he planted one. Something in him couldn’t help it.

He made his final stitch and cut the thread quickly, sealing it with a kiss on the side of your face. He tasted a mix of salty tears and heat from your skin. He watched your throat bobble as he moved away, finishing off the wound with a final cleaning. Alcohol and blood filled the air, along with undertones of sweat.

He had a feeling that last aroma came mostly from him.

He threw the needle and thread away into the small garbage can you kept near your bed before turning back to face you. You rested on the balls of your palms, leaning back to look at him as he walked back towards you. There was pain visible behind your eyes, he could see it, but they were coated in something else. Something somehow rawer than before.

“You should rest now,” he said, scruff evident in his voice from lack of use. He cleared it quickly. “You took a hell of a hit.”

You didn’t move. Joel moved to the first aid kit still sitting in the middle of the bed and used the (what had to be decades old) wet wipes on his hands. He tossed those as well, but you still hadn’t moved.

“There somethin’ on my face?”

You cracked a small smile. “Thank you, Joel,” you said quietly.

He hummed. “Don’t mention it.” He then leaned forward and scooped your body into his arms. You involuntarily rested against him, eyes fluttering already, but he set you down beneath your sheets and swiftly pulled them over you.

He laughed at your fight against your own exhaustion, pushing stray hairs away from your forehead. He pulled away from you, beginning to walk out of the room. A fierce grip pulled him backwards.

“Stay,” you mumbled weakly. “Please stay.”

He inhaled deeply. The sweet cocktail of your voice mixed with those words fucking inebriating him, so much so he was surprised he was still standing up straight. He felt physically winded.

He squeezed your hand. “I’ll be right back. Stay down.”

You smiled, loosening your grip, letting your hand fall back into the bed.

Joel walked quietly out of the room but would be the last to admit how he practically sprinted to your kitchen and scoured your cabinets like a man being chased. He found your pain meds, pouring two into his hand, and filling up a small glass of water. He gave a slow, silent jog back to your room.

He felt equally as winded when he caught the view of the setting sun between your windows, glazing over you like a statue in Rome he had once seen on a traveling magazine. The streaks of leftover tears were highlighted in the light, as well as a small crease in your brow.

That is what told him you were not quite yet out cold.

He brought the meds and water to you, tucking your hair behind your ear to alert you of his presence. You opened your eyes and practically inhaled the medicine before laying back down on your side.

Joel removed his shirt in a blink and tucked himself in behind you, ensuring your stitches were not firmly pressed against him, but pressed just enough to ease soreness. You curved into him perfectly, as he did to you. He wrapped his arm around your frame, taking your hands in his and massaging them gently.

You hummed. “Promise you’ll stay?”

He knew your voice like that better than any man in the world.

He pressed a final kiss to your shoulder. “I’m stayin.’”

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

@untitledarea @avengersfan25 @lexloon @daphne-turner @leeeesahhh

#din djarin x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x #joel tlou #joel #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel x reader #joel the last of us #joel and ellie #joel miller x f!reader

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boliv-jenta · 2 years

Text

Another fic I found in my old WIPs from last year.

Din Djarin x unnamed female.

Smut.🔞 Sex pollen vibes. Bad language.

Din's visor whipped around scanning the room. She had been right next to him as the fight had broken out. He had managed to knock out or scare off most of the quarry's associates. The quarry in question was now cuffed to the bar shouting at Din in his native language. Even if Din had spoken that language, he wouldn't have cared what was being said, she was his priority.

Moving down a dark corridor at the back of the bar he finally heard her familiar grunts of exertion. As he kicked open the door he took in the scene quickly. Two men were already on the floor. One was spralled out face down unmoving, the other groaning and holding his arm in the corner. The third she was exchanging blows with before Din could react she swiftly span, connecting her foot squarely with the man's chest sending him backwards, crashing through a window, on to the street below. Luckily for him, it wasn't far. She stumbled back a little and Din moved to her side holding her arm to steady her.

"Woah, I must have spun faster than I thought." she joked half heartedly shaking her head in an attempt to clear it.

"What's that?!" Din gestured to her left leg where, to her shock there was currently a syringe sticking out of it.

"So run that by me again?" Din asked once they were safely back on the Crest.

"Binary drugs." she winced propping herself up against the wall. "That's why there were so many people coming from all over. They were transporting single components. The drugs come in two parts, plus an antidote. Each one is undetectable on it's own. They only become a drug once they mix in your system."

"You only had one part so you'll be fine." he mused.

"Er, no. Am already feeling the effects. If I don't take the next dose..." she trailed off.

"What?" Din pushed up off the crate he was leaning on, closing the space between them, his fingers flexing at his side.

"Things could get rough. Painful. Maybe even death." Before the last word fully left her lips, Din was ready with the second syringe. She felt flattered by how quickly he came to her aid.

"Wait!" She put her hands up to stop him. His helmet tilted quizzically at her. "Am not saying I want to chance dying. Not now I know am not one of the people who can't just ride out the first dose but you need to hear everything first. The second dose will kick in in about 20 minutes. The antidote needs to be administered when my core temperature starts to drop, not before. I'll hook myself up to a med pad. That rules out putting me in carbonite until it's over."

"Why would you need to be put in carbonite?" the black void looking down at her never normally bothered her but since she was about to broach a difficult subject it made her want to shrink away.

"The appeal of these particular drugs is that they increase arousal and libido. The urges can become painful if not dealt with. I may say and try to do things that I wouldn't normally." 'Not that I wouldn't want to normally, I just wouldn't say or do them' she finished in her head.

Din moved closer then paused for a minute "It's ok. I'll know it's just the drugs." he murmured before sinking the syringe into her thigh.

Din sat, stone still on the floor next to her cot. Not even five minutes after getting the injection she fell fast asleep. He listened intently to every breath, watching for any change. The med pad linked to the sensors on her chest and head, showed that everything was normal. Din was starting to tire himself. Soon he was pulled under by after effects of the adrenaline from the day.

As he groggily blinked awake, the world filtered back into Din's awareness. A rapid beeping. The medpad? Then an overwhelming chill down his spine. His hairs stood on end. His flesh pricked with goosebumps. Her finger tips slowly trailed along the hairline at the nape of his neck. His cock instinctively began to harden.

"Din?" Her voice was soft and low. Quickly he straightened his head, letting his helmet fall back into place before standing.

"How are feeling?"

"Relaxed." She stretched, slowly arching her back, her breasts straining against her shirt.

He distracted himself with checking her vitals.

"I can see why people like this. It feels good. The touch of everything on my skin. Mmmm. Makes me tingle." Her hand came up, her fingers traced his chest plate. "Makes me wet."

He hoped she didn't feel the stutter in the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest. His breath caught in his throat at her words. He shifted away out of her reach. It seemed like a good idea. Until he realised it just freed up her hand to touch herself. Her fingers trailed down the v-neck of her shirt, exposing the swell of her breasts, before she traced a line to her nipple.

"Stop." Din compelled her. He shouldn't be seeing this.

"But it feels so good. Don't you want me to feel good?" The innocent honeyed tone made his cock harden further. "Don't you want to feel good?" The data pad in his hand creaked under his grip. Her hand ran up the back of his thigh. He hadn't be touched like that in years. "I think about you, you know. Those hands, those broad shoulders. That voice. I could come from the sound of it alone.

Help me feel good." Her hand was moving up his inner thigh now. A few inches higher and it would be very difficult for him to deny that he wanted to make her feel good.

"Fine. I'll help you." Din finally snapped. His voice was rougher than she'd ever heard. The way he easily hoisted her over his shoulder and carried her up to the cockpit did nothing to ease the need between her thighs. Opening the door to the cockpit he dumped her unceremoniously onto his seat. Before she could touch him he span on his heels and left.

"You bastard! You said you would help me!" She screamed, flying forward, banging on the metal door. Huffing she dropped to the floor.

A speaker on the console crackled. "I will." came Din's voice. It was sounded different, it was still rough but different. Lighter? Smoother? It was at the point she realise what was different.

"Did you take your helmet off?" She asked. He didn't answer. Could he hear her through the thick door?

"You want my help? I'll help you. Sit up on my seat. Don't talk, just listen." he commanded. Dragging herself up to climb on his chair took some effort. Her body was so tense with need.

"I've lost count of how many times I've sat in very seat and touched myself thinking about you." His words shot straight to her core. If she wasn't already wet she would be now.

"I've wanted you so badly. You're so beautiful, so confident but so adorably self conscious too. So kind hearted but such a temper. It's like you're two people, warrior and nurturer. I want both. I want to fuck you roughly and satiate you when you're running hot after a fight. I also want to spend hours touching you gently, making you come over and over, taking care of you when you are done taking care of everyone else." He must have been able to hear her moans. As soon as he started talking her hands had made their way to were she needed them. She hoped he could hear her, she hoped her sounds were having an affect on him.

Din was used to restraining himself in so many ways. Avoiding the temptation to remove his helmet. Trying to kerb his temper when dealing with a difficult quarry or thieving Jawas. He felt awful to admit to himself that throwing her into the cockpit, instead of taking her there against the wall of the Crest, took all his self restraint. He would never take advantage of a someone but the thought of making her feel good when she needed it, pulled at him for a moment. A moment that he was ashamed of. Even what he was doing now felt wrong but it was the best he could think of. He couldn't see or hear her. He was at the back of the ship with the comm relay on. He'd locked the door and the med tab was sending him alerts. He just has to hope she was lucid enough to cover herself when he had to go in. He had given her all the privacy he could. He knew she was desperate for him, or maybe just desperate for anyone, but he was the one here and you said you liked his voice. Plus he'd never be able to tell you how he felt normally. Maybe this way, if you rejected him, he could pass it off as an act. An elaborate effort to ease your pain.

"When you make me so hard I can't stand it anymore. I wait until you're asleep and lock myself in there. I take off my helmet, recline in my seat and think about you. When I take my dick in my hand I think about you straddling me and slowly sinking down onto it or you taking me in your mouth." The med pad next to him started to beep. Your heart rate was speeding up.

"Either way I always end up fucking up into my fist roughly because the thought of you is too much." The pad beeps faster.

"When I come all over myself, I think about what it would feel like to feel your sweet little cunt come around me." Her heart rate spiked. Various chemical levels in her blood elevated. He knew she must have came.

"Fuck." Came Din's unfiltered voice through the comm. "Am going to let you speak now. I only want you to answer my questions." She was so wrecked from her orgasm she nodded in reply before realising.

"Are you okay?" His voice was full of concern, it made her heart swell even in her lust fuelled haze.

"Yes." She breathed.

"Do you need...more?" he asked there was still concern in his voice but something else crept in there. She hoped his resolve was breaking.

"Yes. I need more. I need you. Want you to fill..."

Din quickly shut off her comm. He didn't want her to be any more embarrassed that she would already be tomorrow. He ran his hand over his face. Maker, he'd already put her in an embarrassing position. For what? To help her? Or to help himself? To let her know that he would do anything for her? He ignored the throbbing in his trousers. He wasn't going to touch himself over her like this. This was for her, not him. The med pad beeping picked up again. Shit, she was going to come again. He couldn't help thinking about how she would sound as she reached her peak or about how her beautiful face would look contorted in ecstasy, head thrown back moaning his name.

When the beeping subsided he spoke again. "Am going to let you speak again. Remember just answer my questions. Be good." His cock twitches at that. He'd always wanted for her to be a good girl for him. To follow his orders. To only come at his say so.

"I'll be good Din." Came her reply. She very rarely used his name. Too afraid that it would become habit and she might let it slip in public so she preferred Mando or whatever nickname came to mind in the moment. His name sounds so good from your lips, he wanted to spend hours making her say it.

Before he could think he spoke. "Good girl. Always so good for me."

The moan that came for her almost had him coming there and then. He gripped the base of his cock harshly, willing his erection to subside.

"Are you okay?" he choked out.

His voice sounded wrecked. She wondered if he was touching himself now. Were those strong hands working his shaft and thinking about her? Those hands had gripped her body a couple of times. Once he wrapped one arm around her waist, pulled her flush to his armour to get her out of harm's way. She could still practically feel his cool Beskar pressed into her back. She'd spent entirely too much time think about how it felt and how it would feel pressed against her while Din was inside her. The other time, she had knocked Din to the ground in the middle of an ambush. She ended up on top of him. His hands gripped her waist, hard. Long enough to roll her so his amoured frame could protected her. As he loomed on all fours above her, she had sat up, pressed her chest into his to see over his shoulder. Whipping his blaster from it's holser she shot the attacker on the roof top. Din stayed perfectly still as she returned the blaster before slowly moving off of her. That was the only time she'd cursed his oath. She swore that without that helmet he would had kissed her instead of mumbling a thank you. She was aware that he had abruptly turned off her comm last time so she was careful about her words this time.

"I still need help." There was a pause. "I'm helping you in the only way that I can." He sounded rueful.

"I understand why you won't touch me...but you could touch yourself for me. I want to hear you. Want you to hear me." The slight static signaled that he had turned off her comm again.

This was his punishment for letting things go too far. She was asking him to touch himself for her. So far the only thing you had exchanged were some words. We all say things we don't mean especially under duress. But if he left the comm open, listened to the sounds she make in her most intimate moments, that would be crossing a line. At this point he didn't care if she heard him. The only problem was it felt wrong that he was getting so hard from her in her altered state. The only solace he was taking was that in hindsight their attraction to each other was obvious. He tried not to think about it because it gave him hope for more but it was blatant. He saw the way her eyes travelled up him as he walked towards her. The way they lingered on any flash of skin. The way her breath quickened when he was close or how she subtlety licked her lips when he was close enough to kiss. Even with the protection of his helmet he wasn't good at hiding it either. The way he'd stumble over his words when she would have to be close to him. The times he couldn't help but lean into her touch when you cleaned his wounds up or had to touch him. The way he let his hands linger on her body longer than necessary. One time you she tackled him to the floor in an alleyway moments before they were shot at. After pulling her safely underneath him, he let the hand that wasn't bracing himself over her rest on her waist while she shot their attacker. The way she stayed so calm, expertly grabbed his weapon and effortlessly made the shot turned him on. If the sound of more enemies approaching hadn't jarred him out of his thoughts he wasn't sure if he would have been able to stop himself from lowering himself down between her legs and grinding into her.

The hand that had been trying to calm his hard on was now running up his length over the fabric of his trousers. He just needed a little friction he told himself. Just a little relief to help him focus. He pressed harder against his shaft, the edge of his palm catching the rim of his tip as he moved his hand over the head. He groaned and his knees buckled slightly as the sensation.

"Din?" came her voice. His eyes flew open in a panic searching for you. "Mechanic remember?" She panted over the comm. Kriff! If she was able to get to the comms she could open the door.

"It's ok. I know you've been trying to protect me from myself. I'll stay in here." He didn't even know how to respond. Of course she knew. She always knew what was going on with him.

"Heard you...before...in here...moaning. Heard my name...too." He tried not to think about why her words were coming out in short bursts.

"Only for a moment...I walked away...touched myself in my bunk, thought about you." The moan that left her lips had him freeing his solid dick from it's confines. He pulled on it, rough and dry, a couple of times just to feel some relief. A long, low groan came from his throat.

"That's it. Wanna hear you." Shit, of course she'd unmuted his comm.

"I want to know you want me too. That it's not just wishful thinking when I feel you looking at me." Din forgot about all the other physical urges pulling at him. That pulled at his heart. She sounded like she wanted the same reassurance that he did. When he finally spoke he tried to convey that he wasn't just wrapped up in the moment, that he always wanted her, always would. "I want you, always have. Want you next to me, always. By my side. In my life. In my bed..."

"Always." she repeated the trace of her smile in her voice. "For now...tell me what you're doing? Are you touching yourself."

He hesitated before answering honestly "Yes."

"Good. Are your gloves on or off?" she probed.

"Off." he answered through gritted teeth. The way she was with him was making him jerk himself harder.

"Am still on your chair like you told me. Am straddling it...while I ride my fingers. Imagining am riding you." She panted.

Din spat on his hand, coating himself thinking about how wet she would be around him. He groaned deeply as he worked himself harder. He could hear her moaning and panting now. Her heart rate was climbing again. He wanted to talk to her. To tell her how good he felt, to have her tell him what she was doing. He wanted to know every detail but he couldn't even speak. Instead he used his imagination. Thought about how wet and tight she would be. How soft her skin would feel against him. How beautiful she would look on top of him. He was broken from his thoughts by the sound of her screaming his name. That sound alone had him coating the metal floor with his come, grunting her name as he did so.

The med pad beeped again this time it was different. It was indicating that it was time for your final dose.

"Hey." Din's voice came softly through the comm. "Time for the last dose. Is it okay to come in?"

She lay back on his seat catching her breath. Looking down she rearranged her clothing so she was decent. She weren't sure if that's what he meant or if he was asking was it safe for him to open the door. She took stock. The throbbing between her legs was manageable. She wanted Din not more more than she normally wanted Din. Not that that was ever a low or reasonable amount. The man drove her insane. He prompted her with a call of her name.

"Come in." she answered turning the chair to face him. He stepped through the door. Helmet in place. Clothes straightened. The only thing out of place were his gloves. In his hand he held the last syringe. She wondered if she put his fingers in her mouth if she'd be able to taste his release on them. That thought kept her occupied as he silently knelt down next to her, gripping her knee firmly before jabbed the needle into her thigh. In her current state even that was erotic. He leaned over her to recline his seat back further.

"Rest." He told her as he gently pushed her back into the seat. He left the cockpit for a moment then came back with a blanket. For a while she wondered if he would act like the last few hours hadn't happened until he gently cupped her face in his large, warm hand. He hovered over her until he finally brought his visor covered face down to hers. Before she could fully comprehend what was happening he tipped his helmet back slightly, just enough so she could vaguely see his lips out of the corner of her eye. He pressed them lightly to hers. The kiss was over too soon for her liking but perfect all the same. "Sleep. I'll be here when you wake up."

Tags @kirsteng42 @babydarkstar @prolix-yuy @thegreenkid @hquinzelle @fangirl-316 @gracie7209 @jedifarmerr @doommommy @scorpio-marionette @sturkillerbase @harriedandharassed

#pedro pascal character fanfiction #the mandalorian #din smut #din djarin smut #din djarin

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fettuccin-e · 6 months

Text

Just This Once

Kinktober Day 18: Squirting + Dacryphilia

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Except it happened again. And again. And again.

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

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

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

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

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

And Din can’t fucking take it anymore.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#touch starved and feral din #love of my life #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin smut #din djarin x female reader #din djarin fic #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian smut #star wars smut

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dindjarinandlysakane · 10 months

Text

The Sweetest Taste | Chapter 36 -Home

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

Masterlist

Chapter 36 - Home

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***(This chapter contains NSFW content. 18+)***

It was late by the time Din Djarin set his N-1 Naboo Starfighter down, just twenty feet or so from his small dark cabin, set amongst the lava flats of the Nevarro desert.

Din felt the humidity and heat of the night hit him the moment he jumped down from the ship, a sleeping Grogu nestled sweetly in his arms, where he had been, for practically the entire duration of their journey home.

Chasing down the rogue TIE-fighter had taken a little over a day, with Din’s pulse wave rifle coming in very handy in taking down the ship and its smuggler pilot, leaving them in the capable hands of Bo Katan and the other residents of Mandalore to deal with.

Bo Katan had of course offered him a place to stay for the evening. But she had smiled knowingly as Din had told her he wanted to return to Nevarro promptly, under the obviously-false pretence of ensuring that all was well on the planet he now called home. When the truth of the matter was, all he wanted to do was get home and see Lysa. As if his very life depended on it.

He had been aching for her since he’d left Nevarro just two nights ago. And returning here now, there was only one person on his mind.

Strolling up the steps towards the small house, Din approached the door as it slid open before him.

The cabin was dark, with Din knowing that with the lateness of the hour, Lysa was likely in bed, perhaps asleep.

As he entered into his small home, he made straight for Grogu’s bedroom, noting a fresh and appetising loaf of bread sat upon the dining table, as he passed it.

The door to Grogu’s small sleeper slid open, to reveal his son’s cosy bed, illuminated by the satellite viewport situated above it.

Din placed the still-sleeping Grogu neatly down onto the bed, not bothering with any covers considering the heat, and pressed a button just below the viewport accusing the shutters to slide closed. The room instantly fell into complete darkness. Din hovered for a moment, considering this, before turning and leaving the room.

Back out in the living space, all felt quiet, not a sound being made in the dark-room save for Din’s heart thumping in his chest as he made up his mind on where to go next.

If this had been just a week ago, Din would not have hesitated to remain out here, settling himself on the stiff couch for the night, or perhaps even declining sleep altogether. All to ensure Lysa was not disturbed by him.

But now he wanted to disturb her…and he knew that she would want that too. His mind flitting back to the last words she had said to him before he’d left…

“I need you.”

That was all it had taken for Din to know that she felt as strongly for him as he did for her.

Those three words with so much meaning behind them, the look in her eyes and the way her hand had touched him, filling in the gaps so easily.

And so now, he would no longer linger out here alone, offering her space. Instead he wanted the opposite. To close the gap between them until there was nothing left at all.

And so taking a deep breath, Din placed his hand to the switch, causing the door to his sleeper to side open with a hiss.

Seeing movement, Din blinked as his eyes settled upon the gorgeous figure of Lysa, propping herself up onto her elbows suddenly, her lips parting in a look of surprise at his sudden presence.

Dank Farrik.

She looked utterly mouth-watering. Her long honey-coloured hair, loose and tousled around her shoulders, and her eyes lidded and sultry-looking as she stared back at him.

He noticed at once that she was wearing very little except for a pale white loose blouse, tied low over her breasts, and which seemed to skim down to the very tops of her legs, which were now pressed together, knees hitched up, feet shifting against the sheets below her.

A thin sheen of perspiration seemed to cling to her tanned collarbone now, reflecting against the starlight from the viewport to her left.

To Din she looked like every lustful dream he had ever had all wrapped up in one.

And all that Din Djarin knew at this very moment, was that he wanted her.

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Lysa pushed herself off of her elbows, coming to sit upright. Staring now at the very familiar figure, standing there in full beskar armour in the doorway to the sleeper.

She had been dozing when she had heard the engines of Din’s ship land outside, and had lay there awake and hopeful. Wondering if the tall Mandalorian would come to see her now…in the quiet of the night.

To anyone else, the sight of a Mandalorian at the end of their bed would have sent fear into the hearts of even the bravest of fellows. But for Lysa there was no worry to be had. No apprehension about what he wanted with her in this late an hour.

Lysa could feel her heart hammering inside her chest, breathing hard, her eyes on him and nothing else.

“I’m glad you're home,” she uttered in a soft voice, feeling her cheeks tinged in the slightest shade of pink as he gazed at her, wolf-like and stoic.

She, all of a sudden, felt quite vulnerable, lying before him in nothing but her single loose undergarment and nothing else.

It had been such a hot night, Lysa was unable to bear anything more, not realising that Din would be back so soon.

“I should take the chair…” murmured Din in a low, husky voice through his modulator, gesturing with his head back towards the living space behind him.

But Lysa gave a small smirk now, lifting her chin slightly.

“This is your bed, Din Djarin, you should take it,” she replied. There was no way after a journey as long as his, she was going to let him sleep out there. She was already a guest in his home, she could easily take the couch if that was what he wanted.

But did he want that?

Lysa felt a pull of nerves in the pit of her stomach.

Had she read the signals wrong?

But Din spoke before she could worry further.

“In that case, would you consider sharing the bed with me again?” he asked in a low, firm voice.

Lysa felt a smile of relief try and tug at her lips, but she played it down, her breath catching in her throat.

She gave a gentle nod.

Din was unmoving for a long moment, his eyes still on her, before she suddenly saw him press his hand to the switch, closing the door behind them.

Shutting out the world.

Leaving the two of them utterly alone now.

Lysa felt her breathing shallow, watching now as Din slowly began to remove each piece of beskar plating one by one.

He had slept in his armour the last night they had spent together in this sleeper. So this was a step that Lysa had hoped for, but never had expected.

It was a slow process and Lysa was still not quite sure what to do. Unsure if he would prefer her to look away.

But as though entranced, she merely sat there, in silence, hearing the hiss of each plate as they were removed, and placed at Din’s feet one by one.

The starlight from the shuttered viewport beside her, seemed to shroud him in a blue shadowed light.

Piece by piece the beskar disappeared, followed swiftly by his boots. Leaving Din looking far less stiff, as he stood there finally in just a dark tunic and black pants.

Lysa’s eyes travelled up and down his lean and tall form, unable to stop her curiosity.

It was the first time Lysa had ever seen him without his armour. And despite her only being dressed in a thin blouse and nothing else, Din might as well have been stood before her naked. The gesture far more intimate than anyone would have realised.

But Lysa did.

She could almost feel Din’s nerves now. Obvious that this was not something the Mandalorian did often, as he stood at the end of the bed, turning to face her once more.

A silence filled the room, as both adults merely gazed at one another, Lysa’s heart hammering inside her ribs.

She wasn't sure what to say, caught completely off guard by the entire situation. She hadn't expected him home tonight, and so the idea of sharing a bed with him after what felt like several long torturous days without him, sent her head spinning.

Lysa’s chest rose and fell, as her green eyes lingered on the last piece of beskar upon his person.

“If you want to take off your helmet I can turn away,” she murmured. Her voice was honest now. She knew that if that was something Din wanted, then she would make sure she would comply.

After his long journey she wanted him to be comfortable. He had been kind enough to let her share his bed, so whatever she could do to not put him out any further, she would do it.

“It doesn’t work like that,” came Din’s sudden reply.

Instantly Lysa felt crestfallen, but her eyes lingered on him for a long moment.

“If you were here alone, you’d take it off to sleep?” she asked gently. Watching as the Mandalorian gave a nod.

“Yes.”

“Then I should sleep out there, on the couch,” Lysa said quickly, with a shake of her head, her tone serious. “You’ve travelled so far, you need rest.”

It was not what she wanted at all. But he was her priority, and she would do what she could to help him.

But Din spoke suddenly, his voice low through his modulator.

“If we close the shutters. Shut out the light then…I could remove it….with you here.”

At his words, Lysa felt her entire body become warm, her breathing becoming suddenly laboured.

She gave a hurried nod, swallowing hard, as she glanced at the button situated just below the viewport.

A nervous energy seemed to pass through her entire body, as with one final glance back to Din, her fingers grazed over the button…

…suddenly plummeting them both into pitch darkness.

Lysa could see nothing now, not even her hand in front of her face as she retracted it from the window.

Anxiously waiting for Din to join her on the bed, she slid across the mattress slightly to make room. And it was a few moments before she felt him sink down onto the edge of the sleeper…

…and the sudden hiss of a seal being broken. A telltale giveaway that he had removed his helmet, with Lysa hearing the clunk of beskar against the wooden floor boards as he placed it down at his feet.

Lysa felt her heart rate quick even further, hearing him give an audible swallow, as his fingers fumbled at the buttons on his tunic.

It was a strange sensation, being denied any sort of visibility. With Lysa feeling like all her other senses were suddenly heightened. As the sound of Din peeling off his tunic followed, hearing it get dropped to the floor with a resounding whump.

A moment later, she felt the sheets move slightly beneath them, feeling Din shift up the bed, coming to sit facing her…

…with Lysa suddenly aware of the heat of his skin close to hers.

Oh kriff.

She could hear Din’s ragged breaths. The sound faint, but enough to drive Lysa utterly wild. With him sounding as utterly tormented as she felt.

She could feel him now, so so very close, feeling a torturous desperation flood her every pore.

She knew she wanted him badly. Every moment they had shared since meeting had been leading up to this moment.

With her heart racing, Lysa gently tilted her face close to his in the darkness, feeling him do the same. His warm breath suddenly dancing over her soft lips.

She had to stop herself from moaning out, her eyelids fluttering closed as she bathed in the intoxicating feeling of his mouth so very close to hers.

And suddenly, unable to help herself any longer, Lysa reached out a hand, suddenly feeling warm skin beneath her fingers, as she slid her palm over a broad shoulder a mere two inches from her. Far closer than she expected.

At the contact, she heard Din’s breath quicken, her own following suit soon after, as she ran her hand over his shoulder, feeling his muscles tensed beneath her fingers.

Lysa feeling completely drunk on him.

His nose brushing hers…

…followed by his lips.

Just the lightest graze.

A gesture so gentle and delicate.

Kriff…

Feeling his bare hand reach for the small of her waist, as their lips brushed for a second time.

But at the feeling of his mouth ghosting over hers once more, Lysa couldn't stop herself any longer…

Her hand sliding up to the back of his neck…pulling him into her...kissing him desperately.

And it took less than a second for Din to react to her, giving a gentle groan into her mouth as he parted his lips, his warm tongue finding hers.

His lips were softer than Lysa had expected, having thought on them far more over the past few nights than she would ever tell.

They kissed each other with such need, it was as though they had waited years to get to this point.

Starved lips lapping at one another, as Lysa let out a pleasurable moan as they separated for a brief moment. Din noisily huffing into her mouth at the sound.

He sounded frustrated, with Lysa sensing that his brow was deeply furrowed, with a need and intention laced over his expression.

Taking a moment to catch her breath, Lysa moved her hand up to the back of his head, her fingers feeling that his hair was tangled and unkempt, but very soft, as she threaded her fingers through the short curls at the very nape of his neck.

After enjoying exploring him for a long few seconds, Lysa reached up with her other hand, instinctively grasping for his jaw as, unable to stop themselves, their lips met again.

Lysa felt a smattering of facial hair running over his chin and up his angular jaw, feeling such an intense emotion coursing through her. Such longing she had never felt for another as long as she lived.

Despite not even seeing his face, Lysa knew that Din was everything that she could have ever wanted. Although deep down she knew he could have been a Bothan and she still would be feeling this way. Din’s actions leading up to this moment telling her all she needed to know about the brave and kind and funny Mandalorian, that brightened her days and warmed her nights.

Suddenly now Lysa felt Din’s hand travel from her waist and up the length of her spine, rumpling her thin undershirt as he went. With her knowing that he could likely feel that she was wearing nothing underneath. As his hand slid down her back once again, tugging her waist towards him powerfully.

Lysa could have moaned out at this possessive gesture.

It was indeed an odd thing, to have spent so long unable to look upon Din’s face, to now be so close to him. To feel his skin pressed to hers, and his face a mere breath away.

Lysa pulled back from him, pressing a sudden kiss to his cheek, before kissing at his jawline, two then three times.

She wanted him to feel her lips against the skin he constantly kept hidden away from others. Wishing him to know how truly wanted he was.

As she kissed him, she felt Din give a groan, letting his head fall back in utter enjoyment of the sensation.

But he only allowed himself this pleasurable feeling for a small moment…

…his face quickly moving back to hers. His lips catching her own again. His kiss suddenly forceful and wanting.

And at this, Lysa could not help herself, tugging Din down on top of her, as she settled herself back against the pillows behind her.

He moved over her now, with Lysa feeling one of his hands press down against the mattress beside her shoulder, keeping the majority of his weight off her. But his other hand, Lysa felt slide up the outside of her bare thigh, grazing up her skin, hitching up her knee and settling his hips over hers. His erection evident, with his hard length pressing against his pants with intent.

The sensation of him drew a gasp of air from Lysa’s lips. The contact, causing a creamy wetness to pool between her legs. A further step in her arousal flooding her veins.

Their kisses now were meaningful. With both adults knowing now what they wanted. With wet lips parting and meeting again and again. Their wet, delicious noises filled the small sleeper. Growing more and more heated with every second that passed.

And Lysa could only gasp out silently, as Din tugged his lips from hers, pressing kiss after kiss to her neck, and then to her collarbone, before stopping suddenly at the top of her breasts.

Lysa lifted her head a little, feeling him hover before her for a moment, before his hand moved over, grazing the ties at the very top of her blouse.

She knew now that he was almost looking for permission to undress her, with Lysa feeling an intense adoration for the man before her, right at this very moment.

She caught his lips in another kiss, as her fingers fumbled for the ties, helping him to undo them, feeling the covering fall open, revealing her flushed breasts beneath.

It had been a long time since Lysa had experienced such euphoria with another. Basking now in each moment of sexual pleasure Din gave her, no matter how seemingly insignificant.

She felt his thumb ghost over her erect nipple, before his lips met with that exact spot, his hot tongue swirling over it expertly, before his mouth began to inch south once more…

Lysa let her head fall back against the mattress behind her, gasping out at the sensation of Din’s mouth moving down her body. Lips and tongue lazily kissing at her, soothing her burning skin.

It seemed now as though Din was taking his time, enjoying himself, as he kissed lower…

…and lower…

And Lysa could only let out a frown, her mouth dropping open.

“Din-” she murmured breathlessly.

But she was cut off, by the sensation of his tongue suddenly meeting with her core.

She let out a hard moan, feeling all the breath leave her body.

It had been a very, very long time since she had felt such pleasure and it was hard not to collapse over the edge, as his warm tongue began to dance over her.

Did he do this often? Surely she hadn’t been the first person he had removed his helmet for. But Lysa pushed thoughts like these from her mind as she felt him press his flat tongue to her soaked slit and lick oh-so slowly, causing her to moan again, clutching at the sheets beside her with desperate hands.

But Din’s own hands were set on a different course now, wrapping themselves around both Lysa’s thighs, giving her a sudden sharp tug into him, as his tongue deepened its exploration of her soaking wet entrance.

“Oh…kriff, ” she breathed, feeling Din press a chuckle into her core at her words.

Lysa tried to remember now if she had ever cursed that badly in front of Din before, but her thoughts were clouded by the waves of pure pleasure rippling through her entire body.

Din carried on, flicking his tongue over her, kissing open mouthed…

…until finally Lysa collapsed over the edge, arching her back, feeling an earth-shattering orgasm pulse through her.

“...kriff…Din…oh…ohhhh…”

She cried out, her thighs clenching around his head. Feeling Din’s hands on her hips, holding her steady. Ensuring she was fully spent before his lips left her.

Lysa held onto the moment tightly, riding the pleasurable wave for several long seconds until it was over. Her chest rising and falling raggedly, the white blinding light of her orgasm slowly fading back to the darkness that surrounded them.

Kriff.

It took Lysa a long moment to compose herself, feeling Din begin to kiss his way back up her body slowly, and with purpose.

And despite Lysa having been fully satisfied by Din’s tongue, that did not mean she was ready for any of this to be over… still aching for him. His ability to pleasure her, only serving to show her how much she would be missing if she was to stop now.

She could feel his erection pulsing against her soft thigh as he slid up her body. And as he reached her, she kissed him again, tasting herself, sweet, like honey, on his tongue.

His hard body moved over hers, and as her hands met with his broad shoulders, Lysa could feel him trembling beneath her grasp.

She pulled away for the briefest of seconds at this, wishing she could see him now in the darkness. Her green eyes still trying to search for his.

She wondered what colour they were, trying to picture him in his entirety, but knew it would be wrong to ask such a question in a moment like this.

Instead she lifted a hand running her thumb over his bottom lip, before kissing him again.

Din’s gave a hungry groan into her mouth, as he pressed himself into her, his kisses becoming intense, his tongue massaging hers keenly.

Meanwhile Lysa slid her hand down between them quickly. And, reaching Din’s pants, she hurriedly began undoing his buttons, as Din shifted a little. Helping to remove the tough material from his legs, until they were hastily shoved to the floor.

Lysa tore her lips from his, breathing hard, as Din hovered for a moment before repositioning himself over her. Her thighs sliding up around him, his stiff length pulsating against her soft thigh, so close to where she needed him now.

But pressing his hand flat to the mattress beside her head, Din held off a little.

Lysa licked at her lips, moving her hand into the space between them, brushing her fingers over his length.

But all of a sudden Din grabbed her wrist gently, stopping her in her tracks.

“Stop.”

Lysa gave a swallow, at the sound of his voice, so clear to her now without the modulator.

But he sounded concerned.

“Are you sure you want this?” he continued. Lysa could almost hear that he was frowning now.

But Lysa merely kissed him again, her lips pressing against his gently, in a reassuring gesture, before pulling away after a long few seconds.

She lifted her hand to his jaw, her fingers sliding over his stubble-lined cheek.

“I do…” she replied in a soft tone, before feeling suddenly nervous. “...d-do you?”

She worried now that Din had changed his mind, her cheeks immediately flushing pink.

But to her relief, Din spoke again a second later, his voice firm.

“Yes. I want this. More than anything,” he said, his voice filled with an honesty he so so often carried with him.

She heard him swallow hard.

“...but it’s been a long time since I’ve-”

Din suddenly stopped mid-sentence.

Lysa felt a wave of realisation suddenly wash over her. Understanding now what Din was trying to tell her

“I just…I might not last that-”

“It’s ok,” said Lysa quickly, cutting across him.

He didn't have to tell her. To her it was not an issue. All she wanted was for Din to enjoy a pleasure so pure, akin to the one he had just given to her.

“It’s ok, really,” she reiterated, before kissing him again. Both of them instantly deepening that kiss, tongues lapping at one another. Lips meeting and parting in a heated dance as Lysa felt Din grind his hips into hers suddenly.

She gave a moan, feeling his length slide over her aching clit teasingly, gliding through her soaking wet lips.

Immediately Din let out a grunt at the sensation.

Kriff, that felt good.

He pulled back, rutting against her again.

There was no penetration now, but from the sounds being emitted from Din’s lips, Lysa knew he was enjoying the teasing feeling of his erection gliding through the creamy slick of her orgasm so easily.

Though Lysa wasn't faring much better, for the sensation of Din’s hard cock slipping over her clit over and over, was causing that knot to tighten within her lower belly once more.

“Dank farrik, that feels…” Din huffed, but he trailed off, grunting once more, between ragged breaths.

Their pace building.

“Din…”

“Dank farrik…”

Neither of them making any sense with the jumble of illicit sounds being emitted from their mouths.

Din huffed out a hard breath, with Lysa knowing that if they carried on with this teasing, she would no longer be able to hold on.

“Stop, stop…” she breathed out, pressing a hand to Din’s broad chest.

Lysa could feel his heart thudding in his chest. Feel his breathing ragged.

She knew that, like her, Din was barely holding it together.

And that was not how she wanted this to end…

And so, wetting her lips audibly with her tongue, she moved her mouth to his ear, feeling him shudder at the contact of her lips against his earlobe.

And a moment later, Lysa uttered five words, that, although she didn’t realise it, would cause something to snap within Din Djarin. A burning need for her, that he had never felt for anyone as long as he had lived, igniting.

“I need you inside me,” was all that Lysa Kane managed to breathe, before Din’s lips were on hers, his free hand grasping at her upper thigh, his fingers pressing into her flesh lightly as he urged her thighs apart for him.

A moment later she felt that same hand slip down between them. And feeling him take his length within his grasp, she hitched in a breath, as she felt him press the tip of his swollen cock to her soaked entrance.

Lysa immediately gripped at his taught bicep with one hand as her other hand slid up to his neck. As Din’s length, already sodden with her juices, slid into her, filling her up entirely.

Lysa sucked in out a shaky gasp at the sensation, as Din gave a hard groan, huffing a breath into the space between her neck and shoulder, his bicep flexing and trembling beneath her grasp.

They both lay there for a moment, both adjusting to the position and the feel of each other, as Din pressed his lips to Lysa’s neck sucking on her skin. Before pulling back and finding her mouth…warm and welcoming…

…as he drew his hips back and then buried himself deeply in her once more…

Lysa’s mouth dropped open, giving a moan into Din’s mouth at the feeling of him sinking into her, her fingers tugging at his hair…

…which only seemed to spur him on further, feeling him slowly begin to set a pace, pounding his length rhythmically into her soaking entrance again and again and again.

Kriff.

Lysa felt like she was quickly losing control, hitching her leg up over his hip, her fingernails raking over his back greedily, as she kissed at him, moaning as she went.

Din let out a low growl, which seemed to rumble through his broad chest.

Everything around them disappearing. Leaving only Din and Lysa. Almost fused into one.

They pulled back from one another, as though in sync, foreheads pressed together, sweat beading over their bodies, as they moved against one another.

Lysa could hear his grunts and groans, coming quicker and quicker.

With her feeling her own bliss rippling, like a tide edging into the bay.

She moved her hand to Din’s jaw, her thumb running over his bottom lip as she drew his mouth to hers. But they did not kiss.

Merely huffing moans and grunts into each other's mouths, Din’s lips, slick and swollen.

His hips snapped into her several times more, before his thrusts started to become far more harsh.

Lysa felt the spring in her abdomen begin to coil tightly, as her eyes fluttered closed, her fingers slipping down Din’s shoulder, pressing into his flesh letting him know that she was close, without words needing to be spoken.

She let out a moan dropping her head back against the pillows, her spine arching slightly, as above her Din dropped his lips to her throat.

Kriff, she was close…

Kriiiifff…

Din’s pressed a long open-mouthed kiss to a spot just below her jaw, as she felt his thrusts become suddenly sloppy, and uneven, delivering one final snap of his hips which splintered through Lysa like a bolt of lightning.

She cried out hard, fingernails scraping over flesh, her thighs trembling, the walls of her soaked slit convulsing, sending a ripples coursing through her entire body over and over again.

And feeling her clench around his soaked cock, Din gave a sudden drawn-out groan of his own, his arm pressed taught against the mattress becoming suddenly rigid. His head dropping to her shoulder.

“Dank farrik, I-“

But Din found himself rendered mute, crashing into his own pulsating orgasm. Lysa feeling him spill himself inside her, triggered by her own earth-shattering climax.

And like that they stayed, both breathing hard, with Lysa’s thighs and Din’s arms shaking. Both lying there, utterly spent, for a long minute.

Lysa wanted to sink into this moment and never leave. Riding the high of her blissful comedown, feeling Din start to shift against her, his lips finding her neck, pressing a gentle kiss to her burning skin.

She let out a gentle exhale, feeling Din’s heart rate begin to finally steady, his chest still flush to hers. Running her hand slowly up, tangling her fingers in his damp hair, she drew his face to her own.

Despite it being dark, Lysa knew now that he was staring at her. A longing still between them, despite what they had just done.

“I’m glad you came home,” Lysa whispered, her nose grazing against his gently. Ending this just how they had started it.

A second later, she heard Din let out a hard yet satisfied-sounding huff.

“I am too,” he replied, his lips ghosting over hers, before taking her in another kiss.

His lips moved against hers gently, as she reacted in turn, smiling into his mouth.

They broke apart after a long and enjoyable few seconds, as she felt Din separate himself from her, and collapse down onto the mattress at her side, shifting onto his back.

He gave a groan, before reaching out an arm, in the darkness, sliding it around Lysa’s shoulders. And with another contented smile, feeling utterly exhausted, Lysa settled herself against him. Coming to rest her head on Din’s bare shoulder, pressing her free hand to his chest, as Din’s tugged her close.

There was so much she wanted to say but for some reason no words seemed to come…

…as Lysa felt sleep begin to wash over her…

…slipping into a comfortable dreamworld as Din did the same. Both of them wrapped up in one another, basking in the afterglow of their union.

Both happy.

Both content.

Both happy to be back with one another once more.

--------

Ok so what did you think? I really hope someone out there likes it.

I'm all about the angst and fluff, so writing smut makes me worry I'm totally off my game. So hope that was ok!

@its5-15wakeup @thecraftyartist @crazypaine @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @marysucks-blog @siimiasoi @livinxdeadxgrl @midwesternwitchery @the-divine-taurus @handspunyarns

#the mandalorian #din x oc #pedro pascal #din djarin #din smut #din djarin masterlist #mando #mando fic #din Grogu #Mando smut #star wars

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bits-and-babs · 1 year

Note

I imagine Mando is a virgin, do to his cult/religion.

What if fem/afab reader is Mando's partner on something and Din finds himself staring at their ass, their face, anything.

Reader notices and decides to lead Din through his first time?

𝐏𝐔𝐑𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐊𝐀𝐑 — 𝐃𝐈𝐍 𝐃𝐉𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐍

» PAIRING : The Mandalorian x F!Reader

» CONTENTS : exhibitionism, masturbation, p in v sex, unprotected sex (I can hear you all screaming from here, I KNOW), cute, shy Mando. 18+ you N A S T I E S.

» DIN MASTERLIST : here || MAIN MASTERLIST : here

It’s so fucking quiet on the Razor Crest.

The Mandalorian had been suspiciously silent for the majority of your trip to Theed— made even worse by the knowledge that it was such a long journey. He had spent most of his time in the cockpit of the ship, pretending to be preoccupied with the coordinates that he hadn’t changed since setting off.

You didn’t think anything of it at first. The long drags of The Mandalorian's eyes that you could feel pull across your form, settling on your ass like a tractor beam had them glued to you. Of course, you’d just explained it away with exhaustion. For a moment, you even considered that you’d been afflicted with Hyper-Rapture, imagining things that weren’t there, inventing the gaze you felt skirting over your form.

No, you don’t think anything of it at all. Not until you walk into the cockpit of the Razor Crest one evening to find The Mandalorian thrusting into his palm and quietly whimpering out your name.

Mando hadn’t seen you, spilling into his palm and wheezing as though he’d been shot by a blaster in the side. His cum had run down the knuckles of his fingers, the two-tone gloves he consistently wore hanging off the controls.

Stars, you couldn’t shake the image from your minds-eye, nor could you ignore the echo of your whimpered name when you close your eyes at night.

It’s late. Mando has managed to settle the rambunctious Child into his cot, gently laying him amongst the blankets and closing the lid. It hisses softly, the mechanics locking with a quiet ‘click’.

You can hear his boots clang across the durasteel flooring, each footstep pronounced. Heat swallows your face as you stare at the Aurebesh lettering in your book, the lines all blurring into one when you feel him approach you.

Your name rings in your ears.

“He’s asleep,” Mando speaks softly, his husky tone soothing in its quiet volume. Looking up at him through your lashes, you carefully close the book you had pretended to preoccupy yourself with. Mando’s visor stares down at you blankly, an immovable object that makes your hands shake when you reach for him.

“… That’s perfect,” you whisper, voice cracking slightly when your palms touch the flight suit beneath the lip of his breastplate. You can feel his body flinch, his hip bones soft beneath the canvas.

“H-Hey,” he says cautiously, shocked by the sudden contact. You rub gentle circles with your thumb, chewing on the inside of your cheek in an attempt to ease your thumping heart.

“I heard you,” you break it to him gently, watching his body stiffen at your admission, “Why did you hide it from me?”

Mando doesn’t respond, your touch having stolen the breath from his lungs. He shudders, his cock hard already beneath the fabric of his suit. You see it twitch, responsive to your light touch.

You smile to yourself, careful as you unclip his utility belt.

“I can give you what you want?”

You insist upon fucking him in the pilot seat. Mando implores you to allow him to keep his armour on. Of course, you concede. This is outside of his comfort zone; he would want to cling to what makes him comfortable.

Straddling his lap, you feel the sting of cold from his tassets bite into the naked flesh of your thighs. The head of his cock rests against your clit, and your muscles buzz with a mixture of arousal and anticipation. You’re drunk on it, high on it.

“I haven’t-“ Mando speaks, his voice catching in his throat when you dip his cock through your soaking folds. It’s like he short circuits, choking on a thick syllable.

“Mhm?” You hum softly. You’ve taken control, your experience making it easier for Mando to relax into you. He leans forward, pressing the cold Beskar of his helmet against your collarbone.

“I haven’t… Done this,” he admits to you, his tone reserved- shy. Mando’s breath hitches in his chest when you settle the head of his cock against your entrance. He sinks inside you ever so slightly, a groan rattling his lungs at the promise of tight, wet heat.

“I know,” you whisper softly, easing down onto his length as you soothe him. Mando’s back arches against the leather of the pilot seat, a choked moan of your name escaping him— not unlike the ones you heard when you caught him fucking his hand.

You don’t move, your walls fluttering around the stretch of him in your cunt. Mando is choking back curses, his hands gripping the curve of your ass and burying his fingertips into the soft flesh there.

“Oh, fu-ughh- so tight-'' he rambles, pitchy in tone as you bury him to the hilt. He’s touching the deepest parts of you, so thick and long that you’re sure you can feel him settle amongst your lungs.

It’s immediately apparent that Mando won’t last long. His thighs are trembling, cock twitching inside you despite your lack of movement. You don’t mind. This isn’t about you.

“Does it feel good?” You check in with him, smoothing your palms down the reflective surface of his breastplate. Your body heat is so high that the chilled metal clouds with condensation the moment your skin rests against it.

“So fucking tight- Maker-“ he gasps in response to you squeezing around him. “I’m-I’m gonna cum-“

Delicately, you lean your head down to press a kiss to the slither of skin exposed between the neckline of his flight suit and his helmet. You follow it up with a long, slow drag of your tongue.

Mando cums with a haggard groan, his whole body shuddering with the intensity of it. His head drops back against the headrest of the seat, chest heaving as he sucks in laboured breaths. Your flesh aches slightly from the tight grip he holds.

“S-Stars-“

It makes you smile, because you’re sure he sees them dancing behind his eyelids.

END

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pascallftv · 1 year

Text

Headlines (Pedro Pascal x Reader)

summary: you and pedro had been close friends since the movie you shot together wrapped nearly a year ago. you decided to have game night with some friends at your apartment, but pedro stays behind after everyone’s left. a little too much wine and pent up feelings lead to the moment you’ve been fantasizing about for months.

wc: 3.4k

warnings: SMUT! 18+ age gap, oral (f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex

MY MASTERLIST

You waved goodbye to the last two of your friends, closing the door behind them with a sigh of relief. Your social battery was running low after nearly 6 hours of card games, and probably an entire bottle of wine. You were sobering up, but you still felt a nice buzz. You closed your eyes and put a hand over your forehead, inhaling a deep breath.

“You okay?”

You turned towards the couch, your heart race picking up. You had totally forgotten that you had one straggler left: Pedro. But, you didn’t mind. You cherished alone time with him, which was something you hadn’t had recently. Both of your schedules were booked tight between press and various photo shoots to promote your latest projects. It had already almost been a year since the film you met on wrapped. On set, you and Pedro hit it off immediately. You both had the same goofy sense of humor, and fed off each other’s energy. You admired Pedro’s kind heart, and he admired yours.

You kept in touch after the film wrapped, texting and calling nearly every day, and meeting for coffee or lunch whenever you could. The only issue was you were in your mid twenties while Pedro was nearly fifty. Your innocent friendship didn’t translate well in news articles. It was impossible to have a platonic relationship with a male counterpart without it being misconstrued as an intimate relationship in the headlines. Deep down, the headlines enthralled you. You were sure Pedro didn’t feel the same way, but there was something about the fine lines by his eyes when he laughed at your jokes and the way he placed his hand on your lower back to guide you through doors made your heart skip a beat. You couldn’t deny that you had feelings for him, but you knew you couldn’t act on them. There was no way Pedro would feel the same, let alone date someone who was half his age. Yet here he was, alone with you in your apartment in the middle of the night, both of you tipsy.

“Yeah, just tired.” You responded, sending him a reassuring smile, walking towards his spot on the couch.

He was slouched back in the couch, his legs spread comfortably in front of him. His arm was draped across the back of the couch, his other hand propped on his thigh holding a glass of wine.

“Come here.” He said, patting the cushion next to him. You wasted no time sitting down next to him, the musky smell of his cologne engulfing your senses. He returned his arm to the back of the couch, placing it behind you head. You were sitting close enough to where his knee was barely touching yours, his body heat radiating through his tight jeans onto your bare skin.

“I haven’t had you alone like this in weeks. I miss this.” Pedro said, his big brown eyes staring down into yours. You know his words were innocent, but your mind went elsewhere. Your lower belly was taught with nerves. Why were you so nervous? You’ve never felt so on edge around Pedro.

“I’ve missed this too.” You muttered, your eyes glancing down at his lips subconsciously. You couldn’t help yourself.

“Is something bothering you? You seem nervous.” Pedro furrowed his eyebrows. He brought his arm down to cradle your shoulders, rubbing soft circles into your shoulder with his thumb. His touch littered your skin with goosebumps, and you felt heat beginning to grow between your thighs.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine.”

Pedro didn’t believe you. He could sense how tense your body was. Your fists were curled up in your lap, and you were avoiding eye contact. It worried him. Had he done something to make you uncomfortable? The thought sent a pang through his chest. He cared about you so deeply, the last thing he wanted was to see you so on edge around him. He couldn’t help but wonder if the news headlines were affecting your friendship.

“Is it the headlines? You know those journalists are full of shit. They’ll makeup whatever they can to get clicks.” Pedro said, angling his body towards you. You glanced up at him, shaking your head.

“No, it’s not that.” You said, taking your bottom lip between your teeth.

“If you’re worried about people thinking we’re together, we can keep our distance. I understand.” Pedro said quietly, his hand leaving your shoulder. Your stomach dropped at the loss of touch.

“Distance is the last thing I want, Pedro. It’s just..” You began, averting your eyes to your hands in your lap. You didn’t know what to say. Your feelings for him were bubbling up and you wanted to tell him everything so badly, but you didn’t have the courage. There was no way he would feel the same, and you couldn’t risk losing his friendship.

“Just what?” Pedro questioned, taking a sip of his wine before setting his glass on the coffee table. “I’m not ashamed of you. I don’t care what anyone in the media has to say about us. At the end of the day, our friendship is more important than some fucking random journalist’s clickbait.”

Your eyes returned to his. His doe eyes were soft and full of care. You loved his eyes so fucking much. You took a deep breath. You suddenly built up the courage.

“I’m not ashamed of you either. I’d be lying if I said I’m not scared of the headlines. They scare the fuck out of me. I know we’re just friends, but what if the rumors start affecting your gigs? I couldn’t let that happen to you.” You began. “I saw a headline the other day claiming that we’re hooking up and that you’re old enough to be my father. Does that not concern you?”

Pedro furrowed his eyebrows once again and stared down at your face that was full of concern. In all honesty, he had seen all the headlines, but they excited him. He was to the age now where he didn’t give a fuck about headlines. No matter who he associates himself with, he’ll face backlash of some sort. Why veer from the people who make him the happiest? You had made him the happiest he had been in years. You were young, but you were so incredibly wise, caring, kind, and unbelievably funny. He wanted more than anything to take it to the next level with you, but he was so much older than you. You were not only an amazing person, but you were gorgeous; you could pull anyone you wanted, so he felt intimidated. Why would you choose him over someone closer to your age?

“I couldn’t give a fuck less about those headlines. Would it really be that embarrassing if those headlines were true?” Pedro said, his hand finding its way back to your shoulder. Your heart felt like it was going to pound through your chest. Did you hear him correctly?

You were speechless. You gawked up at him with parted lips. You didn’t know how to respond. Of course you wouldn’t be embarrassed, you’d actually be quite content if those rumors were true.

“If I’m being completely honest with you, I wish they were true.” Pedro voice filled your silence. Your stomach was doing backflips. His hand moved from your shoulder to your jaw, his fingers tracing along your chin, his eyes admiring every detail of your face. Your body began to give into his, your torso angling towards his subconsciously.

“Can I kiss you?” Pedro whispered, his hand burrowing into the hair at the back of your head.

You’d forgotten how to speak, so you nodded vigorously instead. That’s all Pedro needed.

His lips crashed into yours, his other hand gripping your waist, pulling your body into his. Your lips moved in sync, not too soft, but not too harsh, just needy enough. You’d been fantasizing this moment since the moment you met Pedro all those months ago. Your hands migrated to the back of Pedro’s neck, then to his chest. God, he felt so fucking good in your hands.

In one quick motion, Pedro lifted you into his lap, deepening the kiss. His tongue entered your mouth, grazing along your teeth and tongue. You felt high off his scent mixed with the sheer passion behind his touch. Any sense of doubt of his feelings for you were long gone. Your hips grinded down into his lap, your center meeting his already hardening erection. It ignited a fire deep in your abdomen, and you let out a breathy moan at the sensation. Pedro pulled away from your kiss for a moment.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking beautiful, you know that?” He breathed out, his hands running down the length of your back to your backside. He firmly gripped the flesh of your ass through your thin shorts and brought your hips down harder into his. He tilted his head back against the couch with a moan. His erection met your clit through your shorts, making you suck in a fast breath.

“Fuck, I need you to touch me.” You muttered, pressing your forehead to his. You were both breathing heavy, your lips ghosting each other.

“Tell me what you need, baby.” Pedro said lowly, his hands spreading your ass through your shorts. His hips bucked up into yours, your head flying back in arousal.

“Touch me.” You began, grabbing his dominant hand. “Here.”

You brought his hand down to the front of your shorts, making him cup your heat. You were throbbing so intensely that it hurt. You weren’t wearing panties, and you were sure you were going to soak through your thin, cotton shorts soon. Pedro wasted no time in pushing your shorts to the side, his fingers brushing along your core. You were completely soaked, his fingers becoming slick with arousal.

“Jesus christ, you’re fucking soaked.” Pedro grunted, his fingertip brushing your clit. You jolted from the sensation, your hands gripping his shoulders to keep yourself steady. You were so fucking desperate for his touch. Your face fell into the crevice of his neck, the smell of his cologne became more intense.

Pedro placed his lips to the side of your neck, peppering soft kisses to your sweet skin. He reached his free hand into your hair while his occupied hand slowly ran a finger through your drenched folds. He breathed heavily, his lips ghosting over your ear.

“You’re so fucking beautiful. Gonna make you feel so fucking good, baby.” He whispered, pushing a finger inside of you. You whimpered, pushing down onto his finger, craving more. Your hands wound up in his hair, pulling at the strands at the base of his neck. His tilted his head back, staring up into your lustful gaze. He added another finger, and your mouth formed an “o” shape, with a quiet moan escaping your lips.

You pressed your lips back to his. Your kiss was full of desperation. You had never felt so fucking turned on in your life, and you just wanted him as close to you as possible. You pressed your chest firmly against his, and grinded down against his fingers. His hand left your hair, and lowered to your chest. He took one of your clothed breasts into his hand, giving it a firm squeeze. His fingers suddenly left your entrance, making you sigh at the lack of contact. He grabbed the bottom of your shirt, and lifted it upwards. You raised your arms, helping him take the shirt off of you. He wasted no time in unclasping your bra, tossing it mindlessly onto the floor somewhere. Your nipples were rock hard, your piercings on display. Pedro’s eyes lowered to your nipples, a moan leaning his lips at the sight of your piercings.

“Holy fuck.” He groaned, taking your breasts into his hands, lowering his mouth down to one of your nipples. He took your nipple into his mouth, sucking on the sensitive flesh while he played with the piercing between his fingertips on your other nipple.

While he was occupied with your tits, you raised your hips slightly to pull down your shorts. You needed bare contact immediately. Pedro lifted you off his lap and onto the cushion beside him, and stood up from the couch. He began unbuttoning his jeans. As good as those jeans looked on him, you needed them off. You were surprised to see he was also sporting no underwear. You bit your lip as he slid the jeans down his legs, his erection breaking free. He was so fucking thick, pre-cum dripping from his tip. He pressed a hand to your chest, laying you down into the back of the couch, your feet on the floor. He unbuttoned his shirt, tossing it on the floor next to your other disregarded clothing.

Pedro knelt down between your legs, prying your thighs open with his hands. He wrapped his arms around the back of your thighs, lowering his face towards your heat. His eyes flickered from yours down to your folds. You were glistening with arousal. He lowered his mouth to your inner thigh, peppering it with kisses. He was taking his sweet time, teasing every ounce of desperation out of you. You whimpered impatiently. You gasped when you felt his hot breath hovering over your heat. He flicked his tongue once through your folds, getting a taste of you.

“Pedro, please. Touch me.” You begged, running your hand through his chocolate curls.

Pedro’s lips wrapped around your clit, his tongue flicking quickly against it. You moaned and threw your hand back into the couch, your hand tugging the roots of his hair. Pedro worked your clit with his tongue while he brought his fingers back to your opening, slipping two inside of you. You squeezed your eyes shut, breathing out in relief. He pumped his fingers in and out of you, curling up inside of you, hitting your g spot perfectly.

“Fuck, Pedro.” You whined, struggling to keeps your thighs apart. Pedro squeezed the flesh of your thigh with his free hand, moaning into your core from the grip you had on his hair. The vibrations from his moan sent you into a frenzy. Your lower abdomen was filled with fire. Your legs were shaking uncontrollably, which you probably would’ve been embarrassed of if you weren’t so blindsided by pleasure.

Pedro inserted a third finger into you, and you slapped a hand over your mouth to conceal your moans. You were never this vocal, but you couldn’t control it. You were so overwhelmed with sensations. Pedro grabbed your wrist and pulled your hand away from your mouth. Pedro’s mouth left your clit, flicking it with his tongue one last time before pulling away.

“I want to hear you.” He said, pinning you hand to your side. Your chest heaved, you were out of breath.

“Fuck me, please. I need you closer.” You whimpered, reaching down to his cock, wrapping a hand around his shaft. He groaned at how soft your hand felt against him as you began to stroke his tip. As good as your hand felt wrapped around him, he needed to be inside of you.

Pedro lifted you up into his arms, carrying you away from the couch and into your bedroom, laying you down on the bed. Your head fell back into your pillow as you watched him crawl up between your legs. He ran a hand up to your chest, squeezing your breast while his other hand guided his cock to ghost over your folds. You were throbbing again, your hips bucking up towards his cock. He bent down and kissed you passionately. He took your bottom lip between his teeth for a split second before pulling away.

“Ready, baby?” He said softly, pushing his tip between your folds, barely pressing your entrance.

“Yes.” You breathed out, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him down to kiss you again.

“I want you to watch.” Pedro pulled away, lowering his gaze to where he was teasing your entrance with his cock. Your stare followed his. He slowly began to push into you, your eyebrows furrowing together in pleasure. He was stretching you so fucking perfectly. He pushed halfway into you before stopping for a moment, tracing his hand down the length of your torso before landing his thumb at your clit, working in soft circles. Your legs trembled, clenching around his hips and he pushed into you fully. You felt so fucking full.

He started to move, thrusting into you in rhythmic strokes, his fingers still working your clit. You were already approaching your orgasm. Your head felt cloudy with pleasure, your entire body completely overcome. Your eyes rolled back into you head as he picked up the pace, fucking you hard and fast. Your first orgasm hit you like a train, your vision going white. Your walls clenched around him, coating his cock with your cum. Before you had time to recover, Pedro flipped you over onto your knees, slamming into you from behind.

“Fuck!” You gasped, fisting the sheets for leverage while Pedro relentlessly fucked into you. His hand came down in a smack against your ass, then grabbed your cheeks and spread them apart, getting a full view of him sliding in and out of you. He brought his thumb down to your tightest hole, slowly ghosting the rim of it.

“You feel so fucking good.” Pedro moaned, his thumb pressing against your asshole, but not penetrating it. His other hand ran up your spine, grabbing your shoulder as leverage to pound harder into you. You were seeing stars and he filled you up completely, hitting the deepest part of you over and over.

“Can you cum for me again, baby?” Pedro whimpered, his thrusts becoming sloppier. “I’m so fucking close, but I need you to cum with me.”

“I’m close.” You whined, you hand reaching back to hold his against the flesh of your ass cheek. Your touch was enough to send Pedro into overdrive. With the last of his energy, he began slamming into you as hard and fast as he could, his fingers lowering to your clit, rubbing fast circles. You couldn’t handle it. You bit down on your free hand, uncontrollably whimpering into your skin. You’ve never felt this much pleasure in your life and you thought you could pass out.

Your second orgasm hit harder than the first. You threw your head back, letting out a loud moan, tears filling your eyes. Your walls clenched hard around Pedro’s cock, sending him closer to his orgasm. You came hard, your toes curling at the overwhelming pleasure. Your limbs felt numb, and you swore you forgot how to think. Pedro gripped your hips hard, his strokes slowing down as his orgasm grew closer. He slid out of you and flipped you over again onto your back.

“I want to see your pretty face when I cum.” He moaned, sliding back inside of you. You grabbed his face with tired arms and brought his head down so you could kiss him. One of your hands dropped to his throat, gently squeezing the sides of it. Pedro whined, a hand flying to your breast to squeeze.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” Pedro whimpered, his sweaty forehead meeting yours.

He quickly pulled out of you as his orgasm hit. He came in thick ropes over your abdomen as he stroked himself, milking every last drop. He gave you a quick, breathless kiss, and stared down at his cum that littered your belly.

“You look so pretty with my cum all over you.” He whispered, pressing soft kisses all over you neck and collarbones. You ran you hands along his sweaty back, digging your fingertips into his hot skin and he panted into your neck. He left your neck to lower down to be eye level with your belly, and began licking up his mess. He gave your tits a gentle squeeze as he worked his tongue over your soft skin, cleaning up any remaining cum.

When he was finished, he peppered kisses back up your torso until his lips met your again for a sloppy, yet passionate kiss. He laid beside you, his fingers tracing up and down your belly, occasionally ghosting over your nipples. God, he loved those piercings.

“Looks like the journalists aren’t completely full of shit now.” Pedro grinned, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

You smiled up at him with a giggle. You nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck, giving him a kiss there.

“I think we might need to go another round just to make sure.”

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut #tlou fanfiction #the mandalorian #din djarin #joel miller #javier pena narcos #javier pena #pedro x reader

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