#din x you

[noisynaia]

Hey! I really love your Mando fics. Can I request something where the reader is traveling with Din and Grogu on the crest (could be Grogu's babysitter or something) and Din has a huge crush on her and seeing how much she loves grogu makes him want to confess his feelings. Just some nice Mando fluff, can be sfw or nsfw, whatever you feel like. 💕

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐌𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐝𝐲

Thank you for the request! I had so much fun writing this ♡

word count: 5.7k 

pairing: Din Djarin x afab!reader 

note: Explicit (18+). Smut and fluff. Thigh riding, unprotected P in V (with use of contraception), creampie. Love confessions. The helmet comes off. The Razor Crest lives. No use of (y/n). This has not been beta nor proof read and English is not my native language.

Din’s heart skips a beat at the sight of you. He has tried to fight the feelings he has developed for you, convinced himself that his feelings aren’t truly as deep cutting as they feel. Tried to be content with the time you would spend with him and Grogu before you eventually would move on and he’d be left with the memories and the fantasies of how it would have been if you had really been his. The sight of you and Grogu is almost too much for him, and it makes it very hard for him to not just give up everything and tell you how you make him feel. Your features are highlighted by the silvery moon light that is shining down from the night sky.

You are beautiful.

Din had thought so from the moment he first saw you. But now, after you have travelled with him and Grogu for almost a year and he has gotten to know you, really know you, ‘beautiful’ simply doesn’t cut it anymore. The word in basic is feeling too banal, too trivial, to describe the true beauty of your being. You are the most beautiful person Din has ever known and he is confirmed in this by you every day. 

The way you smile up at him when you walk side by side in a crowded market when you’re on supply runs, always insisting on finding a treat or a new toy for Grogu. The way you always greet Din so happily when he comes back from a hunt, like you truly are happy to see him again, like you have actually missed him… How you will always make sure he is okay and hasn’t been hurt, and how you will insist on helping patch him up on the occasions he is. The feeling of your soft hands delicately placing a bacta patch on his bare shoulder a few weeks ago is still burnt into his skin… The way you take such good care of his son, you look at Grogu like he is the one who hung every moon and every star in the galaxy. The kindness and beauty of your soul is truly bewitching. Maybe that is why he started calling you mesh’la. 

The first time it had just slipped out. It was a couple of months ago. He had come back from a hunt late at night, tired and muddy. For a short moment, Din had felt like all the air had been knocked out of his lungs by the sight he had found. There you were, so lovely, so beautiful, fast asleep on his bunk with a sleeping Grogu curled up beside you, his little green fist closed around one of your fingers.  

Din’s heart had yearned by the sight. The feelings you and Grogu are bringing to him are new territory for Din. He has never wanted anything like this before, or at least never let himself admit that he does. But you and Grogu make it impossible for Din to keep lying to himself. The kid is under his care, under his protection, and from the moment he chose the armour instead of the sabre and came back to Din, his ad'ika. Din and Grogu are a clan. A clan of two. A clan that Din  wishes was a clan of three. 

He had been quiet when he started  to walk off to the cockpit, something he usually was good at, but you had stirred awake anyway, like your sleeping subconscious had felt his presence. You lifted your head from the pillow, sleepily blinked until your eyes had found him.

“You’re back.” You had said, your voice had been a little hoarse from sleep, but still as sweet as usual, a tired smile had painted your face as your eyes had found the dark T of his visor. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” He had said, but you had just shaked your head and hugged Grogu close against you. Oh, how Din had wished he could have crawled into the bunk and joined the two of you.   

“Are you okay?” You had asked, just like you always do after he comes back from a hunt. 

“Yes, I’m okay.” He had reassured you before continuing. “Go back to sleep, mesh’la.”

He has never told you what it means and a part of him feels guilty about that. Maybe you wouldn’t like to be called that by him. You are technically his employee, even though the lines between you feel pretty blurry by now. An undefinable bond has been built between you, Grogu and Din. Maybe it is the small proximity there is forced upon the three of you, due to the size of the Razor Crest. Or maybe it is due to the undeniable connection there has been between you and Grogu from the beginning, but your presence on the Crest feels too domestic, too loving, for you to simply be Grogu’s nanny. 

Din has felt feelings this past year that he has not been acquainted with before. Desire, jealousy, a desperate yearning, all fairly foreign to him until you had entered his life. It is an emotional disruption he hasn’t felt since Grogu had come into his life.

When Grogu had come crashing into his life it had been an upheaval beyond anything Din could ever have imagined. He was so used to not having anyone around, let alone a small child that was so dependent on him. It had been confusing and foreign, but Grogu had climbed into his heart and carved out a space there. A space that Din never wants to become empty again. 

Din had never been aware of how lonely he actually had been before Grogu. It had been a hard realisation, but he couldn’t deny it any longer, especially when he thought that he had lost him. Forget hunting bounties and fighting ferocious creatures, handing his foundling over to the Jedi was the hardest thing Din has ever had to do. Din had ended up caring more for Grogu than he had ever thought possible, he had removed his helmet for his foundling, the little green child had given din a whole new purpose in life.    

And now Din is a changed man. Grogu has changed him, down to the very atoms of his DNA. Din had never thought he would have what he now has. He had been settled with the way his life had been- lonesome and brutal, in order to support his covert and give back to the Mandalorians that had taken him in, or he had at least used to think so…   

But seeing you now, there is really no way of running from his feelings any longer. You are gently bouncing Grogu on your hip as you point out a constellation for him, but the youngling seems to be more interested in playing with the hem of your tunic than looking at the stars over your heads. The silver light from the planet’s moons illuminates you and bathes you in the shine. 

Din had landed the Crest on the little planet not even twenty minutes ago and even though it was past Grogu’s bedtime you had insisted on letting him have a couple of minutes in the fresh air before putting him down for the night. Din had not objected, the three of you had been in space for almost a week straight so a little moonlit night stroll before bed had sounded tempting.   

A light breeze sweeps over you and Grogu lets go of your tunic to instead nuzzle himself close against your chest as  he lets out a cute little yawn. You let out a low chuckle before looking up at Din and his heart skips a beat for the second time this night. The stars are reflecting in your eyes and you have a sleepy smile on your lips.

“I think it is time to get our little one here back to his bed.” You chuckle while you hitch Grogu up a little higher on your hip.  

‘Our little one…’ 

Our!

 Dear Maker how Din wished that you had meant it in the way he secretly yearns for. 

“Yeah, let’s head back to the ship, mesh’la.”      

—

Grogu is sleepily blinking his big eyes up at you as he slowly snoozes off in your arms. You let out a content sigh as you plant a kiss on top of his little green head before carefully placing him down into his little hammock. The sound of his small soft snores echoes through the little sleeping chamber. You are never gonna get tired of this. You smile down at the little sleeping figure as you back away, turning the switch for the door to give the youngling peace to sleep. 

You look around the hull for Din, but you don’t find him so you climb up the ladder to the cockpit where you find him sitting in the pilot chair. He looks like he is lost deep in his thoughts, looking out through the window at the night dark meadow where he had docked the ship. 

“Hey.” You say as you approach him, sitting yourself down in the passenger seat next to him. 

“Hi.” He says without looking at you. 

A silence falls over the cockpit, not necessarily an uncomfortable one, but it does feel loaded with something you can’t really put your finger on. Din had been silent for the entire walk back to the Crest and you wonder if something is bothering him. Maybe he is just tired. You had told him to take the bunk tonight when you made it back to the ship, but he had refused. You were supposed to be taking turns sleeping in the bunk under Grogu’s hammock, but it has been weeks since Din has slept in it and wasn't like he did it often before that. You feel bad about it, his back must be killing him after all these nights on the hard mat on the floor.  

“Din is-” You lean forward in the passenger chair, leaning slightly towards him to try and catch his attention. “Is something wrong?”    

He finally looks away from the window and turns his helmet towards you, and despite only being met by the dark visor of his helmet you just know that his eyes under it are locking with yours. The thought of that always sends a little shiver through you. You know that you shouldn't think about it. Maybe it is wrong, an insult to his creed, but you can’t help but fantasise about the man he must be underneath all the beskar. He is handsome, that is for sure. It doesn’t even matter in what way, it is deeper than that. He is a handsome person no matter what he actually looks like under the helmet and armour. You have seen some of him in glimpse. A bare hand as he removes a glove to get a better grip on as he fixes a clasp on a crate, or the time he had gotten hit in the spot between two pieces of armour and you had helped him getting it bandaged. His face is still a mystery to you. It is a little weird not to know what he looks like, especially considering that you have fallen in love with him. 

You had not meant to fall in love with the Mandalorian. You had tried to fight it, but it was a fight you had no chance of winning. You know that you are being silly, but you sometimes get the idea that he might feel something for you too. It also doesn’t help that you have ended up loving Grogu as much as you do. You don’t think you could love him more if he had been your own. It is kind of scary, the thought of the day din decides he doesn’t need you anymore. That your feelings for Din never will be reciprocated hurts, but you will be able to get over it with time, but the day you will have to get separated from Grogu… Oh, that day is going to kill you. 

“No, mesh’la nothings wrong.” Din shakes his head, he isn’t looking at you anymore, back to looking out at the night. “I was just lost in my own thoughts.” 

“Oh, okay...”

You sit in silence for a little while, you don’t know if you should go and let him be alone with his thoughts or if you should break the silence. You are just about to open your mouth to say something, what you don’t even know, but the silence feels too much. Din beats you to it though. 

“The kid, he uhm…” His voice is much softer than usual, almost close to a whisper. “He really likes you.”

“Well, I really like him too.” You say, you can’t help the soft smile spreading on your lips. 

“I’m glad  you do, mesh’la…” 

“You know… You keep calling me that, but you have never told me what it means.”

“I guess I haven’t…” His voice is low and a little shaky through the modulator.

You don’t know what it is with him tonight, but something feels different.  

You take a deep breath, trying to steady your fluttering heart. “Are you gonna tell me?” 

He freezes in the chair, sitting more still than usual, if that is even possible. He is almost reminiscent of a statue. The silence builds, and you begin to regret that you asked. The air between you feels charged, but you can’t figure out with what. It feels like whatever his answer is gonna be it is gonna fundamentally change something between you. You are starting to think that he is going to ignore your question when he finally breaks the silence.

“Beautiful.” His voice sounds a little weak, almost like he regrets telling you, but he continues in a more confident tone. “It means beautiful.”  

Beautiful… He’s been calling you beautiful all this time? The word always falling so naturally from his lips, soft and earnestly.

The rapid beats of your heart against the restraints of your ribcage thumbs loudly in your ears. You can’t believe what he just said. He is finally looking back at you again, but any signs of what he is feeling are hidden behind the dark reflection of the visor.  

“You call me beautiful?”  

“Yeah, I do… Trust me, if anything or anyone has ever deserved to be called that, it is you.”  

You can not believe that this is really happening, is there really a chance that he might feel the same as you?

“I don’t know what to say.” You say, the hope that has bloomed in your chest is scaring you.    

“You don’t have to say anything. I actually would prefer it if you don’t… I’m sorry if I have made you uncomfortable.” He stands up from the chair, turning his back to you.  

“Din please don’t go…” You grab his wrist before he can get to the ladder and disappear down the hull. “Din, I need you to tell me how you feel, please… I need to know.” 

“Dank farrik.” He curses under his breath and turns around to face you again. “I don’t know how to do this…” He shuffles anxiously from one foot to another. 

It is always so surprising to see Din like this, the usual confident and stoic bounty hunter all anxious and nervous, but you have seen it a few times before. He might be a tough and hardy bounty hunter, but put the man in a social setting and he can get nervous. But this is a whole new level. 

“Grogu he…” He pauses, the sound of his breath sounds shaky through the  modulator of his helmet. “He means the world to me. I love him, he… he is mine. I never thought that I would have that, my life was never set on that path, I didn’t think I was ever meant to be anyone’s buir, but… now I can’t imagine my life without him in it. It was hard for me to accept that I wanted someone around, but I couldn’t deny it any longer.” 

His words come out with so much emotion, you have never heard him like this before. You know that he loves his son, he shows that every day, but hearing him say it like this… The rawness, the emotions. Your vision starts to turn blurry as the tears start to build in the corner of your eyes. You want to be a part of that love so bad.  

“What I’m trying to say is…” He takes a shaky breath through the modulator, his shoulders are tense under the shoulder plates of his armour and his gloved hands are curled into tight anxious fists. “Now I can’t imagine my life without you in it either.”  

“Oh…” Your lips part, you are founding yourself dumbfounded. Is this really happening?

“I want you to be a part of my life, both our lives…” He is actually shaking as he tells you this. “I don’t want to just be a clan of two anymore… I want you mesh’la.” 

You suddenly understand. The way you will sometimes worry that he is avoiding you, or how you sometimes feel like your presence is making him uncomfortable. It makes sense now, you rise from the chair and close the distance between the two of you. You search for the eyes under the helmet, even though you can’t see them you want him to know that you are looking at him - the man and not the Mandalorian. You realise how hard this must be for him, he has been hidden away for all of his adult life, physically, but emotionally too. You reach out for him, placing your palms on the sides of his helmet.  

“Din…” You start out, it is probably just something you imagine, but it is like you can feel the heat of his skin through the beskar on your hands. “You already got me. I’m already yours.”

“Really?” It is Din’s turn to sound like he doesn’t believe what he is hearing. 

“Yes, Din.” You can feel the tears sliding down your cheeks now, and you can’t keep the grin off your face as you nod up at him. “I’m yours, okay. Yours and Grogu’s.”

“And we are yours... Kriff, mesh’la I’m all yours.” He gasps through the modulator. He rests his forehead against yours, the coolness of the beskar is feeling nice against your warm skin. You stand like this for a moment, simply enjoying the intimacy of the closeness, your hands cradling his helmet and his resting on your hips. The silence stretches until Din finally breaks it. 

“I want to kiss you so badly.” He confesses. 

“I know.” You say, but you know that he can’t and that is okay. You have accepted that things with him are going to be different than it would have been with others, so the shock you’re feeling when a loud hiss is echoing off the durasteel walls is big. You squeeze your eyes tightly shut without even thinking about it. Your hands land over your closed eyes, like an extra protection to make sure you don’t see him. 

“What are you doing?!” You shriek as you hear the loud thud of beskar landing on the metal floor. Din has removed his helmet! He didn’t even give you a warning so you could close your eyes before, you had been quick so you haven't really seen him just gotten a quick blurry peek.  

“Open your eyes, mesh’la.” His voice is so low and soft, it is so close to a whisper, you almost miss it. His fingers brush against your hands to make you remove them from your eyes. His bare hands, you notice, and the skin on skin contact makes a hot shiver run down your spine. “Please.” He adds.

You can’t believe this. First you learn that he has been calling you beautiful for months, then he tells you that he wants you to stay with him and Grogu and now… Now Din is helmetless in front of you and he wants you to see him?  

“Are you sure?” You stutter. 

“Yes, mesh’la.” This time he speaks with his whole chest, like he has never been more sure about anything in his life. The sound of his voice without the modulator of his helmet hits your ears and you feel like you might cry. It’s deep and rich, reminding you of the sonorous melodies played on a f'nonc horn. 

You inhale a shaky breath before removing your hands from your eyes and slowly blinking them open. And there he is. Din Djarin, your Din Djarin, staring back at you. You let out a little gasp as you take in the sight of him. You can’t believe that this is what he has been hiding all this time. You knew you would like the way he looked, because it would be him, but the reality is still exceeding all expectations you had. Din Djarin is gorgeous. The brown hair, that curls up at the ends, matches the colour of the irises of the prettiest most soulful eyes you have ever seen. His strong jaw is covered with a short, slightly patchy, beard that frames his face nicely. A moustache is framing his mouth. A mouth with the most kissable lips you have ever seen.

Another long silence breaks out between you, both of you are shocked by the situation. 

“Hi…” He finally says and it is all that you need to break out of your haze. 

“Hi.” You smile at him, maybe the brightest smile of your life.

You reach out for him, you need him closer.

“Do I disappoint?” He asks, but he is smiling too now.

“Hell no.” You shake your head with a laugh, the thought of this face disappointing anyone is an absurd idea. 

“You’re beautiful.” You whisper, your hands find his hair, wrapping your fingers in his soft locks. He leans his forehead down to rest against yours again. It had felt good before, but this - his skin against yours, oh that is heaven. The two of you stay like this for a while, enjoying the affinity between you. 

“What about that kiss?” You finally say and it is all he needs to hear. His lips crash onto yours. It is like a switch has been turned, the softness from before replaced with an intense hunger. The kiss is heated and needy, like he is desperate to taste you, wanting to map out every corner of your mouth. His hands are on your hips, a tight grip as he pushes you closer against him. 

You gasp into his mouth as you feel the solid curve of his bulge press against your pelvis. It is sending a warm shiver through you that settles in your lower stomach. You press yourself into him, slightly grinding your hips against his clothed cock which pulls a low groan out of him. His broad hands squeezes your hips, guiding your rhythm as you rock against him.

“Do you really want this?” You ask him 

“More than anything.” You can hear the smirk in his voice. “Do you?”

“Yes!” You nod wildly. “I’ve never wanted anything or anyone as badly as I want you.”

Your confession makes him let out a deep groan from deep within his throat, it makes a new shiver run through you. His fingers find the hem of your pants which he starts to slide down your legs. You take over, kicking the garment of your legs as you push him towards the pilot’s chair. 

“Sit.” You command. You don’t know what it is, you are usually not the commanding type, but you are feeling wild tonight, drunk off of Din’s lips.

Something flickers in Din’s eyes at your sudden bossy tone. “Yes, ma’am.” He mutters as he sits back in the seat, his strong thighs spread out and a cocky smile on his lips. Fuck, he is going to be the death of you aren’t he? 

You take a second to enjoy the view, before walking over to him, stepping between his thighs. Your hand lands in his hair as you look down at him through hooded eyes. 

“Come here, mesh’la.” He whispers as he reach out for you, gripping your hips and pulling you closer. You lift your leg over him, straddling his broad lap.

He groans at the pressure, as you start to rock your clothed cunt against his muscular thigh. You suspect that he can feel the warmth of your dampness through the fabric. Din adjusts his hold on your waist, helping you set a rhythm as he begins to move your hips. He is moving you slowly at first, but the eager sounds you’re letting out is quickly making him pick up the pace. You purr out his name as you feel his thigh flex under you. 

“Kriff… Doing so good for me, mesh’la.” Din curses under his breath. “Looking so pretty.”

“Mmm..” You hum out, burying your face into the crook of his neck as you keep grinding against him until you can’t take it anymore. 

“Fuck, Din, I...” You whine, feeling the fabric of your panties getting gradually more and more damp against him.

“I need you, Din” You remove your head from his neck so you can look deeply into his eyes. His brown eyes are burning you, his hands coming to a still.  

“Okay, yeah…” He nods at you, his pupils are blown wide and a flush is covering his cheeks. “Ne-need you too, mesh’la.”

His eyes are still locked with yours as he moves you, making you lift yourself up from him so he can start on removing some of his armour plates. You use the time to get rid of your tunic, leaving you in only your bra and panties. He ends up removing most of his armour, leaving him warm and soft for you.   

He pulls you down on him again, connecting your lips once more as his hand dives down to your panties, sliding his fingers under the hem and finding your clit which he begins to stroke with slow, firm circles after coating his digits with your wetness, making you moan into the kiss.  

“Fuck, mesh’la, you’re so wet. All soaked, just for me. My sweet, sweet girl.” He whisper against your mouth.

He keeps circling your clit with one hand, setting a faster pace as his other hand finds your breast, squeezing it gently through your bra, making you let out another desperate moan. Your hands find the clasp at your back, fingers fumbling slightly from eagerness as you open the latch before zealously removing the item from your body. Din lets out a pleased groan as your exposed breasts appear. His free hand, that isn’t occupying your clit, eagerly kneads the soft plumpness of one of your tits before taking its nipple between his fingers and gently twisting it. 

“Oh, fuck… Fuck, Din, I…” You whine out, feeling your orgasm approach. You don’t think you have ever felt it come this early before, but he has you so riled up.

“I know baby, I know.” He encourages. “You can mesh’la, you can come for me.”  

It is all you need to hear, the last string that holds you together gets cut and the warm euphoric waves of pleasure wash over you. His name is falling from your lips over and over again as you ride out your orgasm. 

“Did that feel good?” He asks you with a kiss to the top of your head when you’ve finally come back down from your high and now has relaxed into him.

“So good.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” He says and you can hear the smile in his voice without even looking at him. 

“Wanna make you feel good too.” You say letting your fingers find his cheek and gently stroke his cheekbone. “Want you inside me.” You feel how his cock twitches underneath you from your confession.

“You sure mesh’la?” He asks, placing his hand under your chin to gently holding your head up as he look deeply you in the eyes for your answer.

“Very.” 

“Okay.” He hums, pressing a gentle kiss onto your lips, but it very quickly turns heated. 

Your hands reach down between you, finding the buttons of his pants which you quickly begin to unbutton. The angle is slightly awkward, but you manage to get the last button undone without breaking the kiss. 

Din taps your thigh to make you step back for a second so he can pull down his pants and free his cock. Your eyes widen at the sight. You had gotten the idea that he was big from what you had felt when you grinded against his bulge, but nothing could prepare you for the view that met you. He is big. His cock is throbbing and thick, laying heavy against his stomach, the tip is already dripping with precum and you feel your mouth water by the sight.         

You slide your panties to the side as you readjust yourself, and start to slowly sink down on him. You’re really taking your time, both so you can adjust to the imposing size of him, and so you can enjoy the sounds he’s making for you as you slowly take more and more of him, until you finally are taken the entirety of him. 

“You are so perfect…” He sights. “Cyar'ika you have no idea…” He adds before he starts on leaving hot kisses up and down your neck. 

‘Cyar'ika.’ Another word you don’t know the meaning of, but you are too far gone in your shared pleasure to stop up and ask him the meaning. 

The two of you sit like this for a little while, letting you adjust to him, but you soon can’t take it anymore, you need some movement. 

You lift yourself a little from the chair before sinking back down on him, making Din choke on a throaty moan. His hands stay on your hips, as you begin to bounce on him in a slow, but steady rhythm, but he occasionally slips them down to your ass, squeezing the soft plum skin with his broad hands. It makes you go wild. You pick up your pace.

“Dear, Maker…” You gasp “Din, you’re feeling so good.” 

“You too, mesh’la. So fucking tight.” Din praises, lifting you up with his strong arms and pulls all the way out of you before slamming back into you, filling you up again. “So warm, so perfect.” 

His hips now meet yours with every bounce as he thrust up into you, burying himself so deep inside you it has you bite down hard on your lower lip to not scream loudly and wake up Grogu. The sound of Din’s heavy balls slapping up against your wet cunt, as well as the loud creaks of the chair, is echoing from the walls and it is honestly the hottest thing you have ever heard. Your arms have begun to shake as your grip on the armrest of the chair is getting tighter and tighter. You keep bouncing up and down on him as you feel your second climax getting nearer and nearer. 

“Oh, kriff… Mesh’la you’re so tight.” He groans through gritted teeth. 

“I… I won’t last much longer.” He warns. His thrust falters a little as he gets closer and closer to his release. 

“It’s okay, you can come, baby…” You pant out. “Please come for me, Din” 

He let out a throaty groan at your encouragement. 

“I have an implant.” You add. “Please, I want to feel you inside of me.” 

You pull his face up to you, kissing him hard. Your lips connected passionately as you both get pushed over the edge. His fingers dig into your hips as he comes, your name spilling from his lips like a prayer.

You moan out his name, as your walls clench down around his cock. You feel how his dick twitches inside you as he comes undone. The warmth of his release coats your inside, and you dote on the feeling of being filled by him, milking every drop of his release as he keeps pumping into you, fucking his cum deep into you. You feel like the two of you have melted together as you both ride out your climaxes. Tears of pleasure are wetting your eyes. You have wanted him for so long, never thought that you would have him, never thought that he would feel the same as you. 

You find his lips again, kissing him as you both ride out your climaxes. He hums content into your mouth and you can feel the smile on his lips. His hands are leaving your waist and he is instead cupping your cheeks, gently holding your face and the rough and heated atmosphere is soon turning soft.   

“Are you okay?” He asks while caressing your cheek with light strokes of his finger pads.

“Yes.” You assure him with a small smile. “More than okay.” 

He smiles back at you. He has the prettiest smile in the galaxy you decide. “Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, mesh’la.”

You don’t know the meaning of his words, but they fall from his lips with such warmth and care that you it has your heart flutter with warmth in your chest. 

“What does that mean?” Your voice is nothing but a whisper. 

“I will know you forever.” 

“That is beautiful.” 

“It’s…” He looks into your eyes, the deep mahogany of his irises make your heart clench. You can’t believe that these are the eyes that has been looking at you from under the helmet all this time. “It’s how we tell people we love them.” 

“It is…?”

“Yes.” He nods. “I love you, mesh’la.” 

He loves you… Din Djarin loves you. 

“I love you too, Din.” You say before connecting your lips again in a long passionate kiss. “You and Grogu.” You add when you eventually have to pull away for air.

He smiles at you as his eyes are filling with grateful tears. You, Din and Grogu – a little clan of three.

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[kyberblade]

Just Need You (Din x Reader)

A/N: Okay. This turned into waaayyyyyy more than I expected but once it started it just kept coming, and I…. I kinda love it? Like for real? These two are a mess and I’m kind of obsessed with them. (Also, thank you, Anon, for being my first Mando request and for sending a request at all! You made me happy dance, you have no idea.)

Anon asked: “Hey babes, can you do a Mando x reader where the reader is a bounty hunter and leaves the ship to complete a mission and is only supposed to be gone a few hours but they’re gone all night and Din starts to panic and the next morning they show up slightly injured sand Din completely loses it and he was so scared then feels guilty? (fluff and ANGST) (sorry this is long!)”

I do not own Star Wars or it’s characters. Sadly. But I carry them in my heart. Does that count for something? My soul says yes.

Warnings: Tooth rotting fluff, Grogu being the cutest thing you ever did see, and Din is a warning in and of himself in this one. Typical show violence. Space swearing. Arguing? Mentions of injury, brief mention of blood, stitches. Mando’a.

Word count: 4,014 (I’m this person now, okay?)

Thank you to @fordo-kixed-rex​, @grippingbeskar​, and @dontletyourchildrenwatchthis​ for reading this over for me and letting me know I’m not crazy.

Masterlist

Xxx

“It’ll only be a few hours,” you grumbled, shoving another blaster in your belt from the weapons locker.

“Do you know anything about this planet?”

You rolled your eyes, grabbing a vibroblade to tuck into your boot. “I know it’s hot.” Reaching for a thermal detonator, a gloved hand came out to grab your wrist, stopping you just short, your fingers barely scraping along its surface. With a sigh you turned your head to your left to find the Mandalorian’s helmet inches from your face.

“I’m serious,” he said in a low voice, his grip on your wrist tightening slightly.

“So am I,” you whispered. “Mando, I’m fine. I’ve done this a few times.” He scoffed at your sarcastic remark, making you smirk. When he released your wrist, you grabbed the detonator, fixing it to the back of your belt. “Besides, like I said, this’ll be easy. In and out. This guy’s not particularly dangerous, just a bail jumper. Probably won’t even get a scratch.”

He grunted. “And when you come back limping, what do I get? Hmmm?”

You crossed your arms over your chest, leveling a flat glare on him. “That’s just rude.”

“What?” He asked innocently, holding his hands out to the sides. “I’m not saying he would hurt you. I’m saying you’re known to…. Trip. A lot.”

After a loaded moment where you two just stared in silence, the only sound the child ambling down the ladder from the cockpit, you turned to the ramp, grumbling, “I’m going now.”

Pulling the lever to release the ramp, you stood at the top as it lowered, feeling the wall of beskar hovering closer and closer behind you until finally the modulated voice taunted by your ear, “Good luck.”

A wave of hot air rolled up into the Crest, making Grogu scrunch his face and babble as he tried to scale his guardian's armor.

Din bent down and scooped up the child, cradling him in his arms and shaking his head as the little green ward squinted at the bright sunlight pouring in the now open hull. Bringing his visor back up to meet your gaze as you made last minute adjustments to your belt, he tilted his head to the side just slightly before he added, “You’re gonna need it.”

With a roll of your head to face back toward the unforgiving landscape, you began down the ramp, disappearing in the glare of the sun beating down on the barren tundra.

Tugging the lever to close the ship back up, the Mandalorian turned to the child in his arms as he cooed softly. Letting out a sigh, his shoulders rolling forward slightly as he still held on to the lever with one hand, he let his head fall forward toward the kid. “I know. I know, I miss her already too, little guy. But don’t worry. She’s gonna be okay.” Bringing the hand down from the lever to rest comfortingly on the child’s front, Din patted it distractedly. “And she’ll be right back.”

Xxx

A few hours had come and passed while Din worked on a handful of odd repairs around the ship. He was currently under the control panel in the cockpit, laying on his back as he fiddled with the wiring under the console. 

Grogu was playing with his ball in the copilot's chair, chittering happily about something or other. 

Looking down toward the child, Din sighed, pulling Grogu’s attention to him. “Don’t worry. She’s just running a little late. That’s all.”

The kid tilted his head as he hummed questioningly at the Mandalorian. “She’s just a little late,” Din repeated, a bit more forcefully. “That’s all.” Looking back up at the mess of wiring overhead, he stared at it absently, his voice quiet. “Don’t worry.”

Xxx

More time had passed, it was the middle of the night, and Din began to pace. There wasn’t anything left on the ship to fix to occupy his time. Well, there was, but it would take hours, and you’d be back soon, probably needing to take off as soon as possible, so he didn’t want to get tied up in that.

The kid blinked blearily from a nearby crate, watching his protector pace back and forth as he ate from a ration pack. He paused his snacking, offering a warm, “Patu!” when the Mandalorian stopped for a moment. Grogu grinned when the shiny visor turned toward him soundlessly, beginning to babble aimlessly as he reached back into the ration pack to pull out a piece to offer to his friend, extending it as far as his little arms could go.

“Thanks, kid,” Din mumbled, taking the dried whatever it was and lifting his helmet just enough to take a small bite. He hummed in satisfaction once the modulator was back in place, the child grinning like he’d solved a dire problem for a world at war.

And in a way, Din guessed he had. It offered him peace, if only for a moment. His mind found rest, some silence for a beat, long enough to get some perspective, long enough to take a breath, and tamp down the worry niggling away at him under his armor. 

It was an unfamiliar feeling to him, worry. Something he’d not really experienced until the child, and something he didn’t altogether quite understand. He’d been in worrying situations before, but this was different. It was removed from him. It was for something outside of himself, his control, and it drove him crazy. 

You drove him crazy. 

Absolutely insane.

….and he loved it.

With you gone, something was missing. Some part of him, some piece that made up the rest of him was lost, and it was like he couldn’t settle, couldn’t find any semblance of peace until you were…. Home.

He didn’t know when or how the Crest had become home, much less when you had joined that picture, but there it was.

He needed you home.

He needed you back.

He needed you….

Just needed you.

Xxx

The child was asleep in the bunk, sealed away as Din rearranged the weapons locker for probably the seventy fifth time, or something near there, it felt like. The open spots for the weapons you’d taken out yesterday glaringly obvious no matter how he rearranged things.

With another long sigh, he moved to open the ramp, and he watched as a brilliant sunrise peeked through, streaking the reflective surfaces of the Crest in shades of pink and orange.

He’d sighed enough to sail a ship across the seas on Kamino, he thought bitterly. Every huff of air an attempt to release pent up emotions, something longing in his chest, but all it did was fog up the inside of his visor. ….Which made him sigh in frustration, doing it again, and it was a whole cycle.

A figure appeared on the horizon, and his spine straightened, attention on full alert. He hoped it was you, but since it was well past when you’d said, there was no telling at this point.

The outline looked closer much faster than anticipated, and it was then he heard the hum of a speeder engine begin to whir closer. Hand going to rest on his blaster, he drew it slowly, aiming at the rapidly approaching stranger as he pressed a button on the side of his helmet to zoom in with his display.

A fog had rolled in, concealing the features of the person atop the speeder, but something in his chest began to constrict when he thought it looked a lot like you.

As the speeder swooped to a stop in front of the ramp, Din took a cautious step forward, blaster raised and aimed as he switched the safety off. 

The figure astride the vehicle hopped off, stumbling slightly before pushing themselves up using the seat of the bike for leverage, grunting as they went. Taking a few wobbling steps toward the ramp, finally the figure stepped out of the fog enough for Din to see who it was, and his throat was suddenly so dry, he could barely croak out your name.

You huffed out a breathy laugh before grimacing and grabbing your right side with your hand. “I know I’m late, but, kriff, it’s no reason to shoot me, Mando.” Moaning, you slumped with your back against the speeder, head tilted back as you winced. “Actually, go ahead. It might be better than this.” With a hiss through your teeth, you slid to the ground, landing with a plop onto the dusty earth, barely registering the rapid holstering of a blaster, the heavy footfalls of beskar quickly making their way down to you, or his hurried questions over your tight lipped groans as you were lifted from the ground.

“What’s wrong? What happened? No, kid. Get back. Go to your- kid, no.”

Opening your eyes as much as you could muster, you peeked at the kid standing at the top of the ramp, his expression drawn in concern. “I’m fine, tiny. Do what he says.” The last part of the word came out on a strangled hiss as a wave of pain jolted through you, the Mandalorian adjusting his hold under your knees and behind your back with a soft apology. 

“I must be dying. Did Mando just apologize to me?” Reaching out, you ran your hand exaggeratedly over his helmet, patting it down like it held something you’d lost. “Is this real? Am I dreaming? I’m hallucinating, aren’t I?”

“Be quiet, mesh’la,” he rumbled, setting you on the floor of the Crest before pressing a button on his vambrace to close the ramp. 

“No! No wait!” You said as strongly as you could. Reaching out you smashed the buttons on his vambrace until you found the right one, ignoring his protests, halting the ramp's upward movement. “My bag. On the speeder. The quarry…. What’s left of him….” You relaxed back onto the floor, closing your eyes.

Din shook your shoulders, making you sit up abruptly, wincing before you turned to him. “What does mesh’la mean?”

Din hesitated only a moment. “The quarry?”

You pointed at the speeder, your eyes shutting tight in pain. “He grabbed the thermal detonator. Idiot. All that I could find left of him is in that bag. I’m never using those again. The clean up isn’t worth the credits.” Turning back up to his visor with knit eyebrows, you peeked up at him. “Can we put him on ice?” You shuddered. “I don’t want to look at that bag ever again.”

Nodding, Din ran over and jumped off the ramp, grabbing your stuff off the speeder, and freezing the bag in carbonite as the ramp sealed shut behind him. You carelessly tossed your weapons to the side, mumbling about feeling heavy, so heavy….

When Din turned back from the chamber, you were slumped back against some crates, jaw hanging open limply. As he took a cautious step toward you, he realized your chest was barely moving with your shallow breaths. 

Yelling your name with no response, Din closed the last few feet left between you in seconds, sliding the last foot or so on his knees, numb to anything besides the pain in his chest at the thought of you leaving him. Not like this. 

Not today. 

No. 

“Kid!” He said determinedly, looking across your body to find Grogu already reaching out, a few inches from you. That’s all that would come out. Tilting his head to the side pleadingly, Din turned his visor back down toward your face, smoothing some hair back away from your eyes. 

Grogu understood. He always did. Putting one clawed hand on your shoulder, he closed his eyes in concentration, his already wrinkled face crinkling further. 

Din watched in amazement as color returned to your face, a dull lifeless mask having settled over it before, your eyes fluttering open as you took a deep breath.

Your eyes darted over to Din before landing on the child, wide in wonder, but you didn’t say anything. 

Reaching out, Din nudged him off of you with a gentle push of his finger. “Thanks, ad’ika.” Grogu blinked up at him in confusion. “I’ll take it from here. You rest.” Turning back to look down at you, he wagged a finger close to your face. “Don’t move.” (“Little one.”)

“Don’t think I could even if I wanted to,” you mumbled, smiling softly when he chuckled.

Getting to his feet with a quiet groan, Din got the med kit before settling back beside you. Peeling your blood soaked shirt up just enough to see the sear from the blaster shot along your side, he apologized quietly before he got to work cleaning and stitching the wound.

“You’re lucky. They just grazed you.”

“I know,” you mumbled, looking up at the ceiling of the Crest as he worked on the side of your abdomen, wincing every now and then. “Thank you. For not saying anything. I know, you warned me, I just….”

“You just….” He repeated your words back at you questioningly when you never attempted to finish the statement.

Blinking up at him a few times, you changed the subject. “You never told me what mesh’la means.”

Din just went back to sewing you up carefully, his head tilted to the side at an odd angle to see properly. Silence settled between you, and you’d accepted that’s how it would be - this was normal for him, after all - until he spoke so quietly you almost missed it.

“Beautiful.”

“Wha-”

“It means beautiful.”

Smiling softly, you winced when he pulled the thread taught. “And adi- ad- the kid? What you called him?” Stumbling over the word, you pointed to the little green face in his hammock for reference.

The Mandalorian chuckled, his voice a little louder now, but only slightly. “Little one.”

Looking at the little one, you smiled, nodding. “It fits. Speaking of,” you turned back to face your reflection in his visor. “What the hell did he do to me?”

Sucking in a sharp breath, Din paused in his work for a moment, bringing his gaze up to look at you straight on. “He’s…. Special.”

“Yeah, I’ll say,” you snorted, turning back to face the child, finding him peeking over the edge of the hammock, only from his nose up showing, and of course, his ears. Smiling, you tilted your head at him affectionately. “You could open a sideshow. Make some nice credits between quarry’s.”

“You sound like Peli,” Din grumbled. 

“Hey, that woman has wisdom, you should listen to her.” You held up a finger while speaking, sitting up straighter, only to collapse in on yourself as Din tugged the stitches tight with a grunt and began working on them again.

Another silence settled in between you, filling the spaces between breaths with something comfortable and familiar.

“Well, Mando,” you finally decided to break it. “Have you eaten?”

“The…. The child fed me.”

You hesitated. “I…. I’m sorry?”

“Yes,” he said instead, tying off the stitches as he cleared his throat, reaching for a gauze pad to cover them. “And it’s Din.”

You blinked at him, your mind failing to keep up with the last few topics, especially still struggling with the image of the tiny baby feeding the giant beskar warrior. Amusing as it was. “I’m so lost.”

The Mandalorian stayed silent as he used some adhesive to keep the pad on your side, smoothing it down gently with a gloved hand. He fumbled in the kit for something else, but you couldn’t see, your pant leg being tugged by impossibly small green hands drawing your attention away.

The child ambled up into your lap and settled, giggling when you yelped at a sharp pain in your side. Looking down you saw the Mandalorian withdrawing a bacta shot and letting your shirt fall back down to cover it before turning your fury up toward his visor. 

“My name,” he explained simply. “It’s Din.”

“That hurt!” Your face crumpled from anger to nothing. “Wait. What?”

“You heard me,” he said tiredly, but amused, as he collected the used items and the kit, taking them back over to the corner they came from. 

“I did,” you nodded, staring at the floor. “And…. Wait. What?” Looking back over at him, you groaned as you pushed yourself up with the help of some crates at your back. 

Grogu’s hand resting on your cheek instantly relieved some of the pain, pulling your focus down to him. “That will never not be amazing,” you breathed with a smile.

Din rushed over, helping you to sit on top of the boxes you’d just used as leverage.

“Sit,” you demanded, finger pointed at him. 

With a sigh, he obliged, plopping on the crate next to you gracelessly.

“Explain.”

“When I was born, my parents had to give me a moniker-”

“Don’t make me shoot you.”

With the heaviest sigh you’d heard yet, he leaned back against the hull of the Crest. He looked so tired.

When he began speaking, it was the softest voice you’d ever heard him use, and somehow that made you pay more attention than anytime he’d yelled at you in the middle of a firefight.

“When you were gone…. I realized something.”

“….Be more cryptic. Please.” You sassed when he didn’t continue after a long moment, only raising your eyebrows at him when he rolled his visor toward you with as much attitude as you had just voiced. The kid squeaked something as his own contribution, pulling your eyes down to him, and you pointed at him, nodding in agreement before looking back at Man- Din. “Yeah!”

Din couldn’t help the snort of laughter that escaped as he turned his head back to look across the lower level of the Crest at nothing in particular.

“I don’t know what I would do…. If I lost you. If I really lost you.” He looked down at his hands as he fiddled with the ends of his gloves needlessly. “I’ve…. I’ve only ever felt that way about the kid, and- and I honestly don’t know what to do with this.” He looked at you again, and somehow this time you could feel his eyes on you, not just the weight of his visor. “Don’t know how.”

Holding his gaze in silence, you let his words sink in. It’s a lot to process. In reality, it’s not much, but emotionally, you need a minute. Everything you thought you knew about this man has just been turned on its head, and you just…. Need a minute. 

When you didn’t say anything, Din nodded silently, going to rise from the crate when you reached out to stop him, hand resting over his. Opening your mouth, you stared at your reflection in his visor, then turned your face to look at the floor as if it held the words you needed.

From the corner of your eye you saw Din’s shoulders deflate, roll forward in defeat, but you put a stop to that with a squeeze of his hand in yours. Weaseling your fingers into his clenched fist to open it, you threaded them with his, holding tight while you searched for the words, using the grip as an anchor while you took a leap.

“Din,” you tried, smiling at the way it felt rolling off your tongue, enjoying the way he squeezed your hand at the sound, and his breath stuttered through the modulator.

“Din,” you said more confidently, unable to shake the smile as you go on. “There is nothing I can think of that would make me happier in the entire galaxy than anything you just told me.” Pulling your eyes up toward his visor, you looked at him through your lashes, face still down towards the floor. “When I’m here, on this piece of shit ship-”

“Watch it,” Din mumbled good-naturedly.

“-I have never felt safer or more at home anywhere in my life.” Lifting your face up to him in some insane wave of courage, you squeezed his hand again. “And whether that’s as your friend, or…. Whatever,” you tucked your face into your chest for a moment to hide the smile that’s not going anywhere. “I’m just honored to get to be a part of…. This.” You gestured around the ship then between the two of you and a sleeping Grogu in your arms with your joined hands before resting them back on his knee softly. “Din,” you mumbled around another grin, unable to shake the renewed pull of your lips no matter how you tried. “I’m honored to know you.”

After staring at one another for a long moment, Din finally shook his head in amusement, gently tugging you closer by your joined hands. “Well that’s all nice, but…. I was thinking of something a little more…. Personal.”

“Oh, thank the Force,” you said in relief, letting your eyes flutter shut as he rested his forehead against yours. “Ner cyare.” (“My beloved.”)

Din pulled away slightly, tilting his head at you in question. 

You just kept grinning. “Elek, Ni jorhaa'i Mando'a.” (“Yes, I speak Mando'a.”)

Shaking his head at you, he began to chuckle. “Mir'sheb,” he mumbled. “Then why ask me all about what I said?” (“Smartass.”)

“I just wanted to see if you would tell me. You’re always so secretive.” You narrowed your eyes at him playfully. “Plus, it also seemed kind of important to you, so I didn’t want to ruin it.”

Din tilted his head to the side as he stared at you, shaking it in disbelief and amusement. “Well, way to go with that.”

The smile wasn’t going anywhere, and you didn’t mind. “I also know Huttese, Jawaese, and- oh, what else? What would you like to hear, I’ll see if I can make it happen.”

Tilting his beskar back against your soft skin, he watched as your lashes fluttered to look up at him. Despite being so close, and not truly being able to see him through the visor, he felt like you really could. And for the first time in his life, he didn’t want to hide from that feeling. 

“I just want to hear about your hunt while we get off this hellhole,” he mumbled, standing and lifting the child from your arms. Tucking him into his hammock before sealing him in, he turned back to find you standing at the ladder to the cockpit, looking at it like it’d wronged you. “What’s wrong?”

Looking up into his visor, you pouted. “I don’t think I can get up there with these stitches pulling against me the whole way up.”

“Oh, come on,” he teased, touching his forehead to yours one more time briefly simply because he could now, then turning you to face the ladder and mumbling right into your ear as he crowded in behind you. “You just got shot today, and you’re complaining about stitches?”

“I’m not complaining, it’s a genuine concern,” you mumbled, fighting another grin trying to tug up the corners of your lips.

“Well, don’t be concerned,” he lilted, taking a step closer and making you begin up the ladder with nowhere left to go but up. “I’m right behind you, the whole way. I won’t let you fall.” His voice softened as you began climbing the ladder, and true to his word, he stayed behind you, almost caging you in the whole way. “Don’t worry.”

“I can see that,” you mused, climbing up into the cockpit with a soft smile. “I’m not.”

Din brushed past you, settling into the pilot’s seat, beginning the take off sequence. “Now. Tell me about this quarry.”

You sighed, plopping into the copilot seat with a roll of your eyes. “Oh, you would not believe the chaos that started from the moment- the moment-” you held up your finger, pausing for emphasis as you closed your eyes for dramatic effect, “I was off this ship.”

Din spun in his seat to face you as the ship began to lift off, his voice smug. “Try me.”

Xxx

My everything taglist: @lam-ila​, @oliviajdjarin​, @peonyophelia​, @Itsavicf, @jxvipike​, @momc95​ What’s this?

#din x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin fanfiction #star wars imagine #star wars reader insert #mando x reader #mando x you #mando x y/n #din x you #din x y/n #din djarin x you #din djarin x y/n #star wars x reader #star wars x you #star wars x y/n #din imagine #din djarin imagine #mando reader insert #the mandalorian #star wars #din djarin #mando #grogu #grogu x reader #the mandalorian reader insert #the mandalorian imagine #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x y/n

[decembermidnight]

Beskar and Pearls

Summary: Wearing the luxurious gift the Mandalorian gave you while accompanying him on a business trip turns out to be a pleasurable torture.

Pairing: Din Djarin x f!reader

Word count: 3.9k

Warnings: no plot - just smut, 18+ MDNI, teasing in public, Dom!Din, sub!reader, possessive!Din, lots of dirty talk, Din being a sexy arrogant asshole, glove kink, masculinity kink, humiliation kink, hair pulling, unprotected rough sex, mentions of exhibitionism kink, multiple orgasms, multiple creampies (wtf is a refractory period), a hint of overstimulation

A/N: the most coherent thoughts I have while ovulating. I have no excuse. This is FILTHYYYY I hope you enjoy it! Reblogs and comments are always appreciated!! Also a big thank you to @thefrogdalorian for making sure it's written in decent English and to @saradika-graphics for the perfect divider 💕

Masterlist - Read on Ao3

The Mandalorian has just landed his ship on Nevarro after spending an entire month catching quarries in the outer rim. He has been away most of the time, but he made sure he'd make up for it every time he came back, too proud and stubborn to admit with words that he missed you, but demonstrating it by spoiling you with luxurious gifts and his body.

You look at him in reverential adoration as he dresses in his armour – a blend of his Mandalorian heritage and the many trophies he acquired from his victims, dark red in colour and dented after many close encounters with death.

He's just finished strapping weapons everywhere on his marvellous body when he addresses you.

“Hey. Got this for you. Wear it. We’re going to the market, I have some business to attend to,” Mando says as he hands you a small drawstring pouch he was hiding in his utility belt.

You immediately open it and its content leaves you speechless. It’s the sexiest piece of underwear you’ve ever seen – an expensive-looking black lace thong with just a string of pearls meant to go between your pussy lips.

If he wants you to wear it while in Nevarro, a lawless planet full of dangerous bounty hunters, you will wear it under the shortest skirt you have. The mere thought of his eyes glued to your ass, hoping to get a glimpse of it while being vigilant of other men at the same time, makes your head spin. You let out an aroused sigh and look at him, impassive as always behind the dark visor.

“That should keep you busy,” Mando chuckles and tilts his helmet.

You immediately wear it along with that short, flowy dress that also happens to be his favourite one on you.

“Let me see it,” he says as his hands grab you by the waist. He brings you closer to him and immediately lifts your skirt. He kneels before you and lets out a satisfied hum when he sees the tempting way the pearls disappear into your slit. The Mandalorian lingers there, dark visor trained on that heavenly view as his gloved hands caress your thighs. The sharp contrast between the coarse leather and your delicate, soft skin gives you a thrill of pleasure. You guess – you hope – the trip won’t take long.

His chestplate rises and falls as he struggles to catch his breath and maintain his composure at the sight of your perfect cunt dressed in pearls. It’s incredible to see how something so dainty could turn out to be so perverse and sinful.

“Come on. Let’s go now,” he says as he stands up. Now at his full height, his imposing figure resumes towering over yours. You admire him in awe, taking in the broadness of his body and the way his armour magnificently highlights it.

He offers you his hand to descend the ramp and as soon as you start walking, you understand why he said that it would keep you busy. With every step that you take, the pearls pleasurably rub against your clit. You can feel yourself getting wet already. There's an aroused expression on your face that Mando does not miss.

"Are you enjoying it?" he asks teasingly.

"Yes," you answer and bite your lip.

"Good,” you can hear how pleased he is seeing you like that after you’ve barely taken a few steps out of the ship. You know the thought of you being so aroused in public while having to control yourself is making him hard. You decide to play his game, see where this leads.

Mando is walking right behind you, strutting proudly as he stalks you like a hunter follows its prey. You feel his gaze trained on your butt, so you accentuate the swaying of your hips to get more friction from the pearls and to seduce him even further, hoping to get a reaction from him.

"Shake your ass as much as you want, you're not getting anything until I'm done here. You're only getting this scum to see how pretty you are. I like it," he slaps your ass and chuckles. You bite your lip to muffle a whimper.

"See the way they're looking at you? If they dare even think of touching you, their dead body will touch the ground before they lay one finger on you," he whispers in your ear as he grabs your hand and positions it over his blaster.

"You are mine," he growls in your ear as he wraps his other hand around your waist. He pulls you close, until the flustered, naked skin of your back touches his cold beskar chest plate. A thrill of excitement traverses your whole body and goes straight between your legs.

No one would be so stupid to touch you, not when a Mandalorian is claiming you as his, not when you can feel his erection against your ass. The whole thing is making you light-headed with arousal, so much that you start to shamelessly rub your ass against his cock. His hand tightens its grasp around your waist as your head rolls back to rest on his shoulder. You sigh in his neck and his hand trails up and wraps around your throat.

"Behave now," the Mandalorian growls as you feel his fingers tightening their grasp, trying to restrain himself from giving into lust already.

“I want you,” you whisper in his neck.

“I know,” he replies confidently before releasing you. What an arrogant motherfucker. You want to make him so hard he’ll want to bring you back to the ship and fuck your brains out, putting his desire for you before his stupid pride and his business. You want him to surrender to his carnal instinct.

The more steps you take, the more desperate you become for relief from this agonising, yet pleasurable torture. The pearls are stimulating your clit mercilessly, without ever getting you close to an orgasm. Your cunt spasms and clenches and what's worse is that he knows. Mando has spent so long quietly studying his bounties that he can tell by the irregular way you're breathing that you're struggling with the sensation. You bet he's enjoying every second of it, smirking under the helmet.

Just before entering the market area, he pulls you closer to him one more time, making you gasp.

"Now be quiet. You wouldn't want to fuck up my business. Be a good girl," he whispers softly in your ear as you feel his hand on your lower belly—close, so close to where you want him the most. Maker, he’s rock hard. You can feel it. You can’t think of anything else when his erection is pressing against your ass and his arm is tightly wrapped around your waist. He lets you go and you enter the market area together.

You try to divert your attention on whatever item they’re selling in the stands but it’s mostly weapons and things for bounty hunters that you couldn’t care less about. You can feel your arousal starting to drip down your legs, making your inner thighs slippery. Your swollen clit is pulsing and begging for attention, but Mando has been clear - you’ll get nothing until I'm done here, and you know nothing could make him change your mind, unless you play your cards right.

He grabs a seat in a beat-up wooden booth, his legs spread wide due to the massive erection trapped in his pants. There is an undeniable air of confidence and arrogance to him when he sits like this, looking so imposing and authoritative. You wish you could just drop to your knees and please him in any way he wants.

"Be my good pretty whore and sit here," Mando invites you to sit on his thigh and you immediately comply. You're so damn wet, you can't keep your legs closed.

"Hmm? Sitting here like this with your legs spread open? Do you want everyone to see your pretty cunt? Better let them know to whom this belongs, don't you think?" he coos in your ear with his husky voice. He knows you're both perfectly concealed and no one could see what's going on under that table. He's doing that just to prove a point—that you belong to him.

You nod mindlessly as his hand cups your cunt and stays there, still, without moving.

"Mando. Mando I need–" you whisper in his neck in a trembling voice.

"Oh. I know," he says, pleased when he sees how flustered you're getting. "Not yet," he growls as one of his gloved fingers trails your slit. He stops right before your clit, making you whimper and grip his arm tight in response. You dig your nails in his flightsuit as he feels how unbelievably wet you are.

"Hey. Behave now," he whispers as a Rodian approaches the booth and takes a seat, greeting him with a nod of his head. He immediately hands Mando a puck.

You have no idea what they’re talking about – you can't focus on anything else apart from the way Mando’s gloved hand holds the puck. You look at his fingers with pure lust, thinking of them touching your clit, pumping inside your cunt, the coarse leather caressing your skin. 

You let your hand trail on his inner thigh and he stays surprisingly calm, not flinching one bit as your fingertips slowly slide higher, until they finally meet his cock. He is so unbelievably hard, you feel him throbbing underneath your fingers as you trail them all over his length. The Mandalorian won't betray any emotion, which turns you on even more. He's perfectly calm and collected on the outside, but you bet he'd love to throw you on that table and bury himself in you.

As soon as the Rodian hands Mando a handful of credits as an advance, he leaves.

"Please. Please, I need you," you whisper in his neck.

"I'm not done here. Be patient."

The throbbing need between your legs causes you to ache so badly that you don’t notice another man has approached and taken a seat until he begins speaking with the Mandalorian.

They're speaking in a foreign language, and Mando’s interlocutor does not seem happy. Judging by their tones of voice and gestures, they appear to be negotiating the fee for Mando collecting a certain bounty that the man needs capturing and he is displeased that Mando commands a high price. You’ve learnt over the time you’ve spent with the Mandalorian that there's not much room for negotiation with him. He has leverage since he's regarded as being the best bounty hunter in the outer rim. The way he speaks is so confident, it makes you even wetter how he does not lose composure while the other man is basically yelling at him. 

He starts running his thumb on the string of pearls digging in your slit, feeling how wet you are for him as he keeps talking to his client while you're sitting in his lap, doing nothing but looking pretty. You're his slut and he wants everyone to know it, but you have to act cool even as he teases you under the table. You have to control the way you breathe, you can't let even the smallest whimper out. Why is this so hot? Why is he so hot?

In the end, the man hands him a hefty amount of credits and rises from the table with a huff, muttering and cursing as he goes.

"Please, take me back to the ship and fuck me. I won't ask for anything else, please," you whisper sensually in the crook of his neck.

"I'm not done here," he tries to appear impassive, but as soon as you resume your touching between his legs, he jerks slightly. You smirk, satisfied.

"Mando…" you trace the outline of his cock with your fingers, feeling how hard his erection is while purring in his neck. His pants are thick, but as you stop right at the tip, drawing circles on it with your fingertips, you can feel the fabric getting slightly damp.

“You’re so hard…” you sigh sensually as you keep rubbing his cock. You hear a choked grunt from him, now that he can’t focus on his job anymore, now that he’s at the mercy of your teasing. You’re so tempting, acting so shameless in public, the thrill of someone noticing the two of you drives him insane and you know it. You’re finally getting your revenge. You can bet he's close to losing control. Mando is twitching in his pants, his breathing getting heavier and heavier...

"Fuck it." He grabs you by the arm and you rush out of the market and back to the ship.

The Mandalorian doesn't even wait for the ramp to close behind him to bend you over the first crate he finds, kicking your legs open with his feet and freeing his throbbing erection. His gloved hands run up your skirt and position themselves around your hips, keeping you steady for him as he slams into you all at once. He meets no resistance from your drenched cunt whatsoever, leaving you breathless as you exhale in a loud moan. You're crushed between the crate and his beskar body, pleasurably forced to take his thick cock. You're only able to let out ragged groans and clamp tightly around him as he finally gives it to you just like you wanted.

"You. Fucking whore. Couldn't wait for me to finish my business. Wanted this dick so much, hm? Are you happy now?!" his thrusts are furious and relentless, his hips crushing your body against the crate with a devastating force. The angle at which he's hitting you is deep, so deep that you can't even prop yourself up on your shaky elbows. You're just getting brutally fucked without dignity.

"You get so disobedient when you want this cock. Maybe I should just tie you up and gag you?"

You can't even mumble words, too absorbed by the feeling of his cock thrusting inside of you, so aroused at the idea of him using your body for his pleasure.

"You're so wet. Damn. It must have been such a torture, right? To be so wet and turned on? Hearing you beg like that made me so fucking hard. Feel it. Feel what you do to me," he rasps as he rails you deep and hard.

The way the pearls are rubbing against your clit and the perfect rhythm of his thrusts are driving you close to the edge already.

"Mando, Mando, I'm–" you can barely mumble as you helplessly drag your hands against the crate.

"Yeah. Come. Seems like it's the only thing that will make you obedient. You wanted it so much, you can have as many as you want today."

'Thank you, thank you, tha–" your blissful chant is abruptly cut as the orgasm takes control over your body. Your cunt clenches hard around his thick cock and your legs jerk uncontrollably, barely touching the ground as he keeps you still and never stops drilling into you as you ride your high. The pleasure is so intense, it leaves you breathless as your cunt keeps involuntarily spasming around him in aftershock. You're panting against the metal crate beneath you, overwhelmed and reduced to a trembling, feeble mess, the coldness of it is a relief against the hot, flustered skin of your body that won't stop begging for him.

"Is this what you wanted, hm? For me to stop everything I was doing to come here and take care of you? Needy girl. You desperately wanted attention, hm?"

You can only mumble in assent, feeling the way he takes out his rage on you.

"Bet you would've let me fuck you in a dirty fucking alley if I wanted to."

"Y-yes–" you reply in a breathy groan, drenching yourself at the mere thought.

"What a slut. What if someone heard you screaming like that? What if someone heard how wet this pussy is when I fuck it? Fuck, you're dripping!"

For a man who barely speaks in normal circumstances, he sure does like to run his mouth when he's buried deep inside of you.

"Yeah. I bet you'd like it if someone saw me fucking you like the slut that you are," he pants and you start whimpering and clamping around him at the idea.

"I knew it. You're such a whore. But you are mine, and I won't let anyone hear these pretty moans and see this perfect cunt. They belong to me. To me," he growls.

"Yes – yes. I fuck–ing b-belong to you," you repeat mindlessly.

"Does it get this much to get you this wet? Just a string of pretty pearls? Looking so fucking good. So fucking good. Are you enjoying it?"

"Yes, Mando!"

"Shit, you're so tight. You're making me come," he says in a broken voice. His thrusts get erratic, as does his breathing "This cunt is so perfect, so fucking perfect," he emphasises the very last word before bursting, spilling hot and wet inside of you in a ragged groan, whining at how good it feels. His muscles tense and he gets rigid behind you, his head rolling back in pleasure.

"Oh, fuck! You're so hot. Spill all of your cum inside of me. Like this, yes!" you cry and start touching your clit, so turned on at the sight and feeling of his orgasm.

The sounds he makes as he comes are the hottest ones you have ever heard. The infamous Mandalorian – stoic, imposing and menacing – is getting lost in the overwhelming pleasure you’re offering him. Your drenched, tight pussy is making that dangerous warrior crumble. You’re so aroused, you need more.

"Please, please don't stop fucking me!" you dare asking him.

"I won't," he grunts as he keeps burying his dick deep, so deep inside of you.

"Don't stop. Don't stop. Oh, fuck, I need you to fuck me harder, please!" you plead as you feel his cum starting to drip down your hole. "Maker, please!" you say as you start frantically slapping and rubbing your clit as you hear the obscene, sloppy sounds of his cock thrusting in and out of you, of his hips slamming against your ass.

"I won't stop. Fuck, I want more. I can't stop. You drive me fucking insane!" he growls, resembling a wild beast, completely overwhelmed by lust. You feel his cock still pulsing inside of you as you get even wetter.

"Look at this perfect cunt. You're so full of my cum, damn, you can't ever get enough of it, can you? Fucking cum slut. Look what you make me do. Just came inside of you but I can't stop fucking this perfect cunt. You want to drain me. Are you proud of yourself, hm? Making me so fucking hard in public and teasing me like the whore that you are."

"Fuck, yes, I'm your whore. Your slave. I'm so close, please–" you mutter deliriously while your fingers and the pearls are rubbing against your clit in a wet, nasty mess of your fluids and his cum. You come hard around him once again, strangling his spent, sensitive cock in your tight grasp and hear him grunting, his grip on your hips tightens and his whole body jerks, but he really can’t have enough.

"Yeah. Yeah. Come on my fucking cock, whore. Let me feel it." he encourages you, gritting those words between his teeth, fighting his own oversensitivity, so addicted to the way you feel around him.

He doesn't stop fucking you, not even after your orgasm. He keeps railing you relentlessly. You bring your hand to your mouth and suck your fingers, tasting the bitterness of his cum blended with the slightly salty taste of your fluids on your tongue. Its taste is addicting, the scent heady and intoxicating in the best way possible.

"You taste so good, Mando. We taste so good together," you drawl, overwhelmed by pleasure.

"Yeah, I bet we do," he grabs a handful of your hair and pulls it to lift your head up, giving it to you even harder, making your eyes roll back in your head. You are screaming, completely entranced by the way his cock is still pumping hard inside of you.

"So damn loud. You like being fucked like this, hm?"

He hits even harder from this angle, keeping you nice and still for him to use as he pleases. You're so busy screaming that you can't even reply to him.

"Yeah. Scream as loud as you want. Let me hear how much you want it. I like it."

You can feel his cum dripping down your legs with every thrust, hearing the sloppy, squelching sounds your bodies make. Mando can't even restrain himself anymore, he’s moaning and sighing at how much he's enjoying it. Your cunt is spasming around him, turned on at the way he sounds.

"You like it, hm? To reduce me like this?" he says in between thrusts.

The truth is that yes, you do. You love making the Mandalorian falter with your teasing, making him so desperate and boiling with lust, he has to leave business to fuck you hard, so hard that any coherent thought leaves your mind. You love it when you can feel the man under all that beskar, when he makes you feel like the most important and beautiful thing in the galaxy.

"Yeah, you do," he answers himself as he slows his rhythm, slipping out of you completely only to slowly bury himself inside of you to the hilt, enjoying the view and feeling of his cock entering into your cunt dripping with his cum.

You bite your lip to muffle your screams just to hear him moaning and sighing as he feels the welcoming warmth of your cunt.

“Mando. Mando, please,” you beg as you feel your legs impatiently shaking as his shaft rubs that perfect spot inside of you with each thrust.

“What?”

“Harder. Please?” you beg, subjugated by that perfect teasing.

He slams into you so deeply that you feel it pulsing against your cervix.

“What? Like this? Hm?” he says as he starts to jackhammer you.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes,” you chant as you resume touching your clit.

“Greedy whore. Ready for another one? I'm not stopping.”

“Mmmm,” you can only reply as you feel another wave of overwhelming pleasure approaching.

You hear him panting as he gives you a few more violent, deep thrusts, driving you over the edge one more time.

“Yeah. Take it – fucking t-take–” he grunts when he feels your walls clenching around his cock, your orgasm pushing him over the edge, too.

A loud, violent snarl rips through his lips as he comes, filling you with his white, thick load once again. The grip of his hands around your hips turns to steel, your eyes roll up so high all you can see is pitch black as he keeps pumping his cock into you as you both ride your high. The feeling completely obliterates you, turning your body and mind into a helpless, exhausted mess.

A huge, satisfied grin forms on your face as you feel him slowly slip out of you and his cum starts dripping down your cunt and legs.

“Good work," he pants "now be a good girl and wait for me while I go back there. Don’t move one muscle and maybe we will pick up where we left off,” he says as he tucks his spent cock in his cum stained pants, not giving a shit about it, looking at the mess he made of you, disrupted and leaking with his seed. Wrecked, used, marked. His.

#din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin x female reader #pedro pascal #din djarin smut #din djarin x you #din x reader #mandalorian fanfic #din djarin x reader #din djarin fanfiction #din x f!reader #din x you #din djarin fic #mando #the mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian smut #star wars smut #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal smut #mando x you #mando x reader #oneshot #mando smut #smut #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandolarian #mando x f!reader #din djarin x f!reader

[wild-lavender-rose]

Stay Still

Pairing: Din Djarin x reader

Category: Hurt/Comfort 

Summary: Din cares for you after you're injured protecting Grogu.

Warnings: cannon typical violence, injury

Note: Apparently this is a draft clean out day :) Please let me know if you all want a part 2, this was something I started a couple years ago and couldn't figure out how to finish until now.

     “Mando!” You looked for him frantically, pressing Grogu tight against your chest as blaster fire rained over you. You had found a pile of rocks and rusty metal parts to crouch behind for cover. Din had told you to take Grogu and run for the ship. You hadn’t made it before the blaster assault came from every direction, forcing you to stop.

Now you were trapped, breathing hard, firing occasional shots and searching for Din. If Grogu got injured because you couldn’t run fast enough, you'd never forgive yourself. But you would die before that happened, a thought you knew was in danger of becoming reality.

The ground next to your foot erupted in dust and smoke as whoever shooting got closer to his target.

     “Mando!” You cried, cradling Grogu as he whimpered and clung to you. “Mando, where are you?!” 

     He didn’t respond. You couldn’t see him hiding in the rocky, barren terrain. But that was good. Perhaps whoever was shooting couldn’t see him either. 

     You set your jaw and readied your blaster, looking down at Grogu who looked up at you with wide eyes. “Hold on, little one. We’re going to get to the ship.” 

     Grogu seemed to understand, his little hands gripping you even tighter. The blaster fire grew heavy and close. It was going to pierce your hideout any moment now. Your insides were trembling and you felt tears stinging your eyes. You tucked Grogu against you and took a breath. Then you scrambled out from behind the rocks and ran for your life to the ship. 

     You didn’t make it. 

The ramp was lowered and in sight. There was barely two strides left between the end of the clay ground and cool metal. A sharp pain stabbed your right leg from behind and you cried out, landing just short of the ramp. Grogu squirmed out of your grip, crying and looking around frantically. You gasped against the raging pain. You pushed Grogu forward, praying that his powers would keep him safe. “Get to the ship!” 

     And that’s when you heard it. Blaster fire coming from the ship’s entrance. You looked up to see Din running down the ramp and firing back at the shooters. Grogu ran to him as fast as his little legs could go. Mando scooped him up and deposited him safely inside the ship. 

     You struggled to stand once more, the blood slick on the back of your leg. Din’s arm wrapped around you, helping you to walk. With a few struggling steps the two of you were finally inside the ship. Din smacked the controls and raised the ramp, his shoulders relaxing as it closed with a thud, blocking out the storm of phaser blasts.

     “We have to go,” You told him, squirming against the pain as Din set you down on the floor. “Din, we have to go!” 

     “You’re going into shock.” Din pulled off his helmet and sat it next to Grogu who was watching with big, frightened eyes. He pulled off his gloves next.

     “Is Grogu okay?”

“He’s fine. Now stay still.”

You jumped as the blaster fire continued. “It’s not safe here, we have to move the ship.” You started to get up. “I’ll start the pre-launch,”

“Stay still!” Din put a hand to your shoulder, pushing you back to the ground hard.

"Din!" You started to argue, but that's when the pain hit. Hot and intense, it ripped through you as if you had been shot all over again. You screamed and grabbed at your leg, only vaguely aware of Din keeping you in place as he fixed a tourniquet to your leg.

He talked to you, his voice steady. But you couldn't tell what he was saying as the pain and darkness took control. Something like "I love you" wafted through the haze. But perhaps it was the delirium from the pain. Regardless you reached for him, grasping his sleeve, hoping that you would remember to ask him when you woke up.

Provided you did ever wake up...

Part 2 available on Patreon

#din djarin #din dijarin x reader #din darjin #din dijarn #din x reader #din x you #din x y/n #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x y/n #mando #the mandalorian #mando x reader #the mandolarian #mando x you #the mandolorian

[lokischocolatefountain]

Guess

Fandom: Star Wars, The Mandalorian

Pairing: Din Djarin x Reader

Rating: PG13, fluff

Word count:

Summary: A game of guessing goes right in every way for you and Din, your kind of friend, sort of boss.

A/N: Day 1 of my fic advent calendar and my first Din Djarin fic on here! Credits to my friend @lokislittlevalkyrie for co-creating the reader character and for our long conversations about her and Din. Keep checking the advent calendar Masterlist for more fics dropping this month. And leave me a little comment to encourage me to keep the fics going 💜💜💜

“Stop scowling.”

“I’m not scowling,” he lied, trying his best to keep his tone neutral even though he was surprised that she knew he was scowling. Lucky guess, he told himself. But how many lucky guesses could one person have about his facial expressions?

“You so were!” She insisted, sinking further back into the novelty ‘chair’ she bought on their last stop. It was a sphere half filled with tiny soft particles that molded itself to the user’s shape. She slouched on it as she continued watching one of her holodramas, something with a murder or speeders (or both) at the heart of the story.

“I was not.”

“If you say so, Din Can,” she said, using her nickname for him. He chuckled reflexively, unable to control his responses to her. Thankfully, his helmet filtered the sound out, saving him the embarrassment of finding humor in the humiliating nickname. He smiled, glad she didn’t know just how many times she’d made him laugh whether by mocking him or making clever remarks in general.

“I do say so.”

She was beautiful. Taking up the creed meant hiding one’s own face from others. To hide what would serve as the basis of others’ first impression of you so that your valor and your character would serve as your defining features. Vanity was not something he was raised with. Yet he knew beauty when it stared him in the eye and called him Din Can everyday. Or Tin Djarin. Buckethead when he really pissed her off.

Dinny Bear when she was intoxicated.

Blood rushed to his cheek when he thought of the last time she did that. She’d gotten very comfortable around him in the months they’d been crew mates. All her initial jitters and jumpiness around him had gone and been replaced with her stubbornness, strange sense of humour, and a level of confidence she didn’t have with him before.

He had to chase her down to even get her to accept the job he was offering her as a travelling mechanic. He’d never heard of one before. And she was quite frightened of him after the kind of interaction they had at Peli’s shop. But he needed a mechanic on board. With the kid in his hands now, it became hard to juggle a failing ship with hunting bounties and caring for a mischievous kid who waited for the moment he took his eyes off him to cause chaos.

It helped to have a mechanic on board at all times. She was wonderful and came approved by Peli. Over time, she became more than his mechanic. A friend, he would be brave enough to say. If he were braver with women, he would say that he’s caught her sneaking glances at him. That he felt her twinkling eyes rove over his armor every now and then. Sometimes he was confident of it. At others, he convinced himself that his mind was clouded by his desire for her. By his desire for her to desire him too.

The matter of his expressions came up once again later after dinner.

“Stop looking so grumpy.”

“You cannot see my face.”

“Yeah but you look grumpy.”

He grunted, turning away from her to focus on the controls. They were on hyperspeed. There was nothing he needed to do with the controls. But to come face to face with her when she told him exactly what he did underneath his helmet was…too much.

“Heyy! Let’s play a game?” She asked, her voice bubbling with excitement.

“Play with Grogu.”

“He’s asleep. And this is not a game for little potatoes.”

He chuckled softly at the nickname and looked up at her again, awaiting her proposal. “What would that be?” He asked.

“A drinking game.”

“Drinking is a game now?”

“Dank farrik! I missed when you used to be quiet. Just listen to me. I’ll guess what your face looks like under your helmet and if I get it right, you should take a sip of your drink. And if I get it wrong, I take a sip. Let’s do it with the Silver Elixir,” she said, getting up from her seat to fetch the bottle from their liquor cabinet they kept locked to keep away from wandering little womp rats.

She returned with the bottle, two glasses and straws. They’d recently taken to drinking together. She bought him a straw a begged him to join her, using her sweet eyes and her adorable pout to convince him. She said she only had drinks with friends and that drinking alone on the razor crest made her feel lonely.

He gave in to her, just like he gave in to their little green crewmate.

She didn’t need to use a straw, of course. Yet she did. When he asked, she said it was so that he didn’t feel lonely drinking through a straw like a kid. Even in her insults, she managed to be sweet.

“Start guessing,” he said impatiently as she sat next to him and looked intently at their glasses to see if they were filled equally.

“Sure, sure… You have dark hair,” she said, passing his drink to him. “Dark brown.”

“A little too obvious, isn’t it?” He asked, knowing she had definitely seen his hair in the trash after he gave himself haircuts and shaved his facial hair.

“Drink up, old man!” She said, lips wide in a grin as she knew already that she was right.

He snorted, but followed through, taking a sip of the strong liquor. “Alright. Next.”

“You have….big green ears.”

“Wrong,” he huffed, smiling nevertheless at her sense of humour.

“Damn it! I should’ve known they wouldn’t fit inside the helmet,” she said, taking a sip. She was smiling too, and unlike his, it was out in the open and as bright as the stars around them.

“Those were two descriptors. Big and green. Take one more sip,” he argued. He didn’t particularly want to get her drunk, but he liked how adorable she was when intoxicated. One of their drinking sessions ended with her snuggling up to him because she couldn’t find the kid to snuggle like a children’s stuffed animal.

“What? No! It was one guess, so it’s one sip.”

“Again, you guessed the size and color of my ears and they were both wrong. Take a sip.”

She rolled her eyes, but complained, taking another sip. She leaned close and narrowed her eyes at him, as though focusing on his helmet would reveal what was underneath. He smiled unconsciously, taking in the beauty of her from up close. The light in her eyes, the way her eyebrows knit together when she was in deep thought, lips that impressed him with the wittiest remarks… Lips he wanted desperately to pull to his, to devour and make moan his name.

“No moustache.”

“Hmmm….” He hummed, thinking of how he could sort the point for this. He *did* have a moustache, but that was only now. There were times when he shaved it off completely. “It’s complicated. I have a moustache now, but I change it quite frequently. So, half a sip.”

“If I have to take half a sip, so should you.”

“No, I don’t,” he scoffed at her warped logic. Here he was, being nice and giving her some credit even though she was wrong. But she was trying to take advantage of it.

“Yeah you should. If I’m taking half a sip because I was half right and half wrong, you should also take a sip because you’re half right and half wrong.”

“No. That’s not how it works. I have facial hair now, which means you are wrong. I should’ve made you take a full sip, but I decided to make a concession because I am sometimes fully shaven.”

“Dank Farrik! You’re such a lightweight. Just say you can’t handle your liquor and I’ll let you go,” she taunted, a smirk plying at her lips.

“Oh please, I can handle my liquor much better than you can. Here,” he said, drinking the strong undiluted alcohol like it was water in a few big sips. He slammed the glass against the control panel surface and shrugged. “See, I’m good. You are the one who gets drunk after one portion of the Silver Elixir and terrorizes the kid.”

She gasped, as though he made a much bigger accusation. “I don’t terrorize the kid! I just give him extra cuddles and kisses. He enjoys them very much. It’s called affection, Tin Can. Ever heard of it?”

He tilted his head at her in the way that sometimes made her swallow audibly. “So you think that because of my way of life, I have never experienced affection?”

She opened and closed her mouth quickly, as though her mind and lips were in disagreement about whether or not what they were about to say was appropriate. He smiled under his helmet, proud of himself for stumping her. She talked a lot. Since he was a quiet man, everyone else was talkative in comparison. But she was the voice he heard the most as they lived together on the Razor Crest and their other occupant communicated mostly in coos and squeals.

“That’s not what I meant!”

“Say what. Since the drinking thing was already disproportionate anyway because I’m not guessing your features and I can handle my liquor much better than you do….lets change the rules.” He took a deep breath, afraid of the consequences of his words but unable to miss this opportunity. “For each correct guess you make, I’ll give you a kiss.”

“You’re kidding,” she said, scoffing.

“I’m not known for my humor.”

She took a deep breath and looked directly into his eyes, making his heart skip a beat. Kriff, the things she did without even knowing! He thought he could die from the anticipation of hearing her next guess. Would she guess something ridiculous like big green ears to make sure she doesn’t have to kiss him? Or would she make a very obviously correct guess?

“You have…” she trailed in a softer voice, looking at him almost coyly. “…pink lips.”

Not the most obvious guess. Not all humans had pink lips. And he could easily not be human. He didn’t remember telling her he was… But if she was going for something for a higher likelihood of being correct… Kriff he hoped she was. “Do you want me to turn the lights off or blindfold you?” He asked, conveying indirectly that she was right.

“Wh-whaaat? Why?” She sputtered, looking at him with those pretty eyes, vulnerability brimming in her expressions.

Did he get the wrong idea? Maybe her obvious guesses weren’t because she wanted to be right so she could kiss him… Maybe it was just the product of her usual playful nature.

“Because I will have to take my helmet off when I kiss you,” he proceeded to say, even as his heart beat faster with the anxiety of how this could go. They were adults. It it was a misunderstanding, he would simply get over it and do his best to not make it awkward between them. “And you cannot see me.”

“I…” she trailed off before letting out a nervous laugh. “I didn’t think you were serious.”

“Again. Not known for my humor,” he said, letting a smile seep into his words. She was so kriffing adorable, looking all nervous like a blurrg stuck in a doorway. “You don’t have to, of course. I can give you something else. Ten credits, perhaps?”

“What, no. A deal is a deal.”

“Then tell me, my dear mechanic. Lights out or blindfold?”

“Lights out.”

Pity. He was hoping to see her pretty face when he kissed her. Not moving from where he was, he pressed the buttons on the control panel, turning all the lights out. In the pitch black of outer space, he could see nothing. Perfect.

“What can you see?” He asked, just to be sure.

“Nothing,” she said, in her voice so low and soft that it was swallowed up by the darkness. What entity wouldn’t want to swallow up something his pretty mechanic put out? Every word she said, every touch of her fingers against the trees and rocks and flowers. If he were air, he would luxuriate in her scent. If he were water, he would caress her skin and play with her hair as he cleansed her. If he were fire, he would creep into her skin, warm her up when she needed. But he was nothing but man. So, he would have to satisfy himself with a kiss from her lips.

“Are you sure?” She asked as he stepped forward to her.

“I am. Are *you* sure?”

There was silent for a moment before she said, “Yes. Kiss me.”

Needing nothing else, he took his helmet off and placed it carefully on his seat. His heart thudded against his ribs, and his breaths grew labored. And he hadn’t even touched her yet.

In all his years, he had never kissed anyone. It was not part of the culture of his people what with the metal barriers that kept them from it. He remembered the sweet kisses on his forehead and cheeks from before he took the creed. But that was not what his heart desired. He wanted the kind of thing she watched on her holopad, all the holodramas with characters who showed their desire through an intense kiss that left their partner speechless.

He reached forward and found her hand. She gasped softly, the quietness of the ship letting him in on her soft sounds. He caressed up her arm, enjoying the slight tremble of her skin beneath the tips of his fingers. He stopped at her neck and allowed himself to cradle it in his hand. He felt her lean closer and he reciprocated, taking the final step. He tilted his head to his right feeling that she tilted to her right.

As he closed the gap between them, he felt her warm breath on his skin. He swallowed, his lips parting from how nervous he was. What if he was no good? What if he didn’t have good breath? What if he’s such a bad kisser that she— he gasped softly as she pressed her lips against his. In an instant, she quietened the sounds his head. The fast beating of his heart, he realized was now from the effect of proximity to her more than his insecurities.

She placed one hand on his shoulder and wrapped her other arm around his waist. He let out a shaky breath at the intimacy of their contact and let his other hand trail down her back. She pressed herself closer against his beskar clad chest, making him wish he had the forethought to toss that bit of his armor too. He wanted to feel her. Every bit of her that she was offering up to him like she truly believed he was deserving.

Her lips were soft, just as he’d dreamt them to be. He’d never kissed before. It was an act saved for married couples in the covert, as only your spouse could see you with your helmet off. He had married friends who waxed poetry about the magic of kissing. How they felt like nothing and nobody mattered other than your partner. How it turned you into putty in their hands. He thought it was exaggerated… Until now.

He cupped her cheek, her face fitting in his hand and making him feel a new sense of protectiveness towards her. He’d protected her before, sure, but this felt different. This was something to do with a need to be gentle with her. To cherish her and treasure her. She licked his lips and he parted them instinctively, letting her tongue between his lips. He shuddered as her fingers threaded through his hair. He whimpered and pulled her closer to himself in the moment of vulnerability, using her as a crutch to support him. He’d never been touched like that before…

Her fingers explored his hair and he allowed himself to relax in his arms, even letting himself give her comforting caresses of her back. He felt her melt into his arms as their kiss deepened. She tasted of the silver elixir first, but when they were both a little along the way, he began to taste something that was distinctly her. Something sweet, mixing with the fragrance of her citrusy perfume to further dull his senses.

It was soft, but electrifying. He poured his passions into the kiss, exploring her with his tongue and luxuriating in the sweet little whimpers she let out. The technicalities stopped mattering. He was here, holding the girl he’d been pining for, lips connected as the unlikely result of a stupid game. That moment was all that mattered and her sounds of satisfaction told him that he wasn’t doing so bad after all.

She pulled back in a while and they let out the breaths they’d be holding. She let out a laugh and he smiled, comforted by her job. He didn’t even know he’d been holding his breath. He’d forgetting the necessity for breathing as he found her lips.

“You have…a big nose,” she said, confusing him.

“Huh?” He asked, his mind still clouded from her kiss.

“I get another kiss if I’m right, Dim Djarin,” she teased, pointing to his obliviousness when it came to things of this nature.

“Right,” he said, grinning as he kissed her again. He needed to play games with her more often.

#din djarin #din djarin fic #din djarin fluff #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x ofc #din djarin x y/n #din djarin x original female character #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian fic #the mandalorian fluff #inexperienced!din #din x reader #din x you #mando x reader #mando x you #mando fic #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfic #star wars #star wars fanfiction #star wars fic #am i a star wars fic writer now? #din dijarin x reader #din djaren #din dijarin fanfiction #all that i've inflicted on the world

[theywhowriteandknowthings]

You can call me Din.

Inspired by this BEAUTIFUL piece of work by @immarocketman

The hand on your head isn’t possessive, nor cruel. But it’s always there.

Every time he comes to you with that look on his face.

Every time he refuses to speak.

Every time, he takes the helmet off.

You love him, he burns a hole in your chest with the way he makes you feel after years of only allowing yourself to survive. You don’t know if he loves you, you doubt he’s even allowed to love someone like you.

But you know he’s not supposed to remove the helmet.

Something about that makes you feel special, but then again, he might take it off for all the sex workers he lets suck his dick when things get to be too much.

He’s especially quiet tonight, even when you feel his balls pull taught under your touch, even when he’s spilling down your throat. You’re met with an uncharacteristic, deafening, silence. Something happened, he’s lost something, or someone, important.

But as always you never ask, never pry into your client’s lives unprompted.

“I’ll see you around Mando,”

You breathe as you collect the pouch of credits on the nightstand before making to leave.

“Din.”

His voice catches you unawares, his silence something of a shroud the whole evening.

“You can call me Din.”

#din djarin #the mandalorian #pedro pascal #mandalorian season 3 #star wars #artists on tumblr #digital painting #mando x reader #pedro pascal fanart #pedro pascal characters #fanfic #smut #mando #din dijarin x reader #din x reader #Din x you #The mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x you #din djarin x female reader #din Djarin smut #din djarin fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #Murder daddy kinktober #Vi writes #fic writing #din djarin x reader #Theywhowriteandknowthings #pedro pascal fanfic #masterlist

[floral-force]

Of Brown Eyes and Desert Skies

cowboy!din djarin x f!reader - old west/western au oneshot

summary: When a new man storms into the saloon you work at, you're instantly terrified--and captivated. But as he lingers in town and stirs up trouble with every step, you question who the brown-eyed man is underneath the poncho, and if he really is just a bounty killer at his core.

words: 10.7k+

warnings/tags: EXPLICIT. 18+ ONLY. smut (rough, fingering, oral, riding, doggy style, spitting, spanking), period-typical violence (not graphic) and sexism (not from din), the helmet hat comes off, din is morally gray and not always nice, barmaid!reader

a/n: This is heavily inspired by Sergio Leone's Dollars Trilogy and the Man with No Name. Please mind the tags.

read on ao3 | masterlist

When he stormed into the saloon, you knew he was trouble. You had an eye for these things, a sixth sense for danger. 

A hush fell over the crowd of people when the swinging doors opened. The stranger’s eyes narrowed under his black Stetson hat, and a cloth covered his face below them, the plain beige fabric laying over the earthy green poncho draped over broad shoulders. The brim of his hat cast a shadow over the few inches of exposed skin. You nearly dropped the glass you were drying when he started to walk over to you in those stiff, dark denim pants, the bottom of a brown leather holster bouncing on his thick right thigh, heavy with a hidden weight. 

Something within you stirred, scorching your skin. He sat down on a stool right in front of where you worked and conversation within the saloon picked up again. His severe gaze burned a hole through you, and you took a step back, suddenly conscious of the sweat on the back of your neck and the heat coiling low in your gut. The sweat starting to dot your forehead certainly wasn’t from the heat of high noon, the sun hanging in a cloudless blue sky.

“Can I get you somethin’, sir?”

“Whiskey,” he said, his voice gravelly but smooth at the same time. Seductive and sultry. 

You nodded and turned around, pulling a bottle of amber liquid off the bar shelf and grabbing a low glass. You could feel him staring at you as you poured, heat prickling your ears. You told him the price and he shifted to the side, digging money out of his pocket. 

“Keep the change.” 

“Thank you, sir.”

You gave him a smile and walked over to the register, entering the sale. You stashed the change in the jar you kept next to it, happy to see it slowly getting filled to the brim. You didn’t make too much here, but you had no other choice. It wasn’t a bad job, but it came with its problems—drunk men getting handsy or bold being the overwhelming one. When you’d arrived here all those years ago, it was either working as a barmaid or a laundress. You chose the former, and you didn’t regret it. It just meant you ran into interesting people, and this man was no exception—he’d made that clear when his brown boots stomped across the old wooden floor.

“‘Scuse me, miss?” 

The man called out to you, and you quickly walked over to him, spreading your arms out and leaning forward. He was swirling his glass in a lightly tanned hand, a blue cuff settled over his wrist. You wondered if his hands felt rough, how they’d feel on the soft skin of your waist. 

You swallowed thickly. “Yes, sir?”

“You know if the sheriff here has any bounties out?”

Oh, shit. He was one of them. “Mm-mm.” You shook your head. “I haven’t heard or seen anythin’.”

He nodded and set his glass down, leaning forward and staring into your eyes, his brow set. He was close enough for you to see the sweat under his eyes, staring you down, making your heart thrum in your chest and throat go dry. The chestnut eyes gave you a once-over, slowly trailing down your body and stopping where the bar top hid the rest of you from sight. They jumped back up to your widened ones, and the corners crinkled with a hidden smirk. 

“That’s a damn shame, ‘cause suddenly, I find myself wantin’ to stay a bit longer,” he husked, pulling the cloth away from his face and slugging the rest of the whiskey back. You caught a glimpse of his jawline as he tilted his head back and noticed the scruff covering it. 

You raised an eyebrow and innocently asked, “Oh, really? How come?” 

“Found myself somethin’ a bit better than a money,” he said, tipping his hat back slightly. “And she’s standin’ right in front’a me.”

His smooth compliment nearly made you forget he was a bounty hunter. The way he eyed you up and down almost covered up and dulled what your head was telling you. This man was trouble through and through, and you’d known it from the moment he swaggered through the doors. He’d caught your eye like no other man just passing through ever had. You wanted desperately to comb your fingers through the dark brown curls peeking out under his hat, to kiss the lips hidden under the cloth, to know him like nobody ever had. 

You must’ve been staring a bit too long because you heard a low chuckle and felt a finger tap your forearm. You shook your head and chuckled nervously. 

“I’m sorry, sir, just thinkin’ too much.” 

He hummed. “I like a woman who thinks too much. Makes it even better when I make her go quiet.”

The purred innuendo made your lips part and eyes go wide. You wanted that. And he knew it. The clever cowboy was already playing you and pressing all the right keys; it was as if he’d already snuck under your skirt and made you go limp. 

He looked over his shoulder at the stairs climbing up the back wall facing the doors. “You stay around here?”

“Up-upstairs,” you stuttered. “I got my own room.”

“Good.”

“It-it doesn’t hide noise all that well.”

He stared at you and snickered. “Darlin’, you really think I give a shit?”

And he really didn’t. He had you howling as he rammed into you, completely unforgiving as his cock filled you to the brim. The man growled and grunted your name as he fucked you from behind, rough hands gripping your ass and spreading your round cheeks. He burned like sand at noon, more punishing than the summer heat. You gave in to him, letting him burn you as much as he wanted. 

You were drooling into your worn mattress with tears in your eyes. The man held your wrists behind your back in one large hand. The other was kneading the fat on your hip as it recoiled with each slam of his hips. 

“This th’best pussy I ever had, darlin’, god damn,” he rasped.

“G-good,” you panted between his brutal thrusts.

“Listen t’yourself.” He laughed, the sound mirthful and deadly. “Can barely fuckin’ speak. Told you I’d fuck ya til you couldn’t speak, darlin’.” 

Your eyes squeezed shut and you moaned at his dirty words. You should have never doubted that he’d have your mouth going dry, feeling his cock dig deep inside of you and choke something in your throat. He humbled and punished you for doubting him with his unforgiving pace. His tongue lavished you with dirty praise and raspy groans, the sounds making your cunt throb and suck him in deeper even as your walls started to get raw from his roughness. 

He’d proven his tongue was filthy only moments ago as he licked circles around the sensitive bud between your legs. You were entirely naked—garments in a heap on the floor—but he still wore all his clothes except for the poncho and cloth. Even his worn denim shirt was still on, only the first four buttons undone—his hands were too busy yanking your clothes off to be bothered with his. The man was impatient and hungry, and you didn’t dare deny him. 

He still wore the black hat as he worked his mouth on your sex, tonguing between your folds and teasing your slick hole. But you didn’t mind it, not when he moaned into your cunt with each broad lick of his tongue. He gave in to your whiny pleas for his thick fingers, obliging you with two right away. The digits stretched you open, made you throw your head back and clamp your legs around his head, the brim of his hat bending into your shins. 

He clicked his tongue and placed his free hand on one of your knees, gently pushing it down as he muttered, “Spread those legs for me, baby. Need ‘em open for me.” You did as told and he hummed in approval. “Atta girl.”

He praised you by sucking your clit and rubbing his fingers against a soft spot within you. You were twitching and mumbling nonsense, an utter mess for the scoundrel between your shaking thighs. Your cunt pulsed around him, your peak suddenly rising with the motion.

“That’s it, darlin’,” he’d coaxed as you panted and gripped the sheets. “Need to get you nice’n ready for my cock.”

It only took a few more moments before you came with a sharp cry, legs shaking and a foot twitching. A fire blazed within you, one he had started and intended to keep burning. He worked you through it, sucking in a breath as he felt you pulse around his fingers. 

“Good fuckin’ girl,” he crooned. Then, he flipped you over, not even giving you time to recover from your high. 

He’d barely tugged his pants down, only undoing his belt and dropping his holster to the floor. He growled and grabbed your ass, lifting it into the air and forcing you to arch your back. When he pushed into you with a groan, you felt the fabric scratch against you as he sheathed himself in your still-sensitive cunt. 

You hissed and squirmed and cried out “Fuck, I’m—I’m still sens—”

“Don’ care,” he grunted. “I fuckin’ need you, darlin’.”

You nodded and moaned at his harsh affection. You were ashamed that you loved it, that it made you throb. A sharp slap on your ass made you jump, the tingling sensation left behind sent your head spinning. He rubbed it and soothed the tender skin, rough hands suddenly soft. 

And now, he fucked you without mercy. Any trace of tenderness was gone with the wind. The man with brown eyes filled you more than anyone ever had, made you see stars when others had only made you see specks. When you begged him to spit on himself, that your cunt was getting raw, he pressed his sweaty chest against your back and gently tapped your cheek with his knuckles. 

You opened your eyes and saw his open hand in front of them. 

“Spit.”

Your pussy ached at his demand and you opened your mouth for the brown-eyed man, lifting your head as much as you could. Saliva dripped off your tongue and landed on his calloused palm. He took his hand back and you set your head back down, taking a deep breath when he pulled himself out of you to stroke his cock. His free hand grabbed the meat of one of your cheeks, his thumb kneading close to the tight ring of muscle hidden between them. The wet sound of him stroking his cock with your spit made you smile and shudder. 

There was something satisfying about this cowboy using you. All rough edges and dry desert heat. He was as ruthless and unyielding as the western terrain you called home. You nearly screamed when he rammed himself back inside of your aching hole, silencing yourself by burying your face into the mattress. The man carved a canyon through you with brute, relentless force and praised your wild howls and whines with a slap on your ass and one slow rock of his hips. He teased you over and over, quickly learning where to drag the fat head of his cock to make you shiver and shake.

“P-please,” you begged, your eyes squeezed shut. “Don’t fuckin’ stop!”

The man chuckled at your desperate cry. You felt yourself shiver when he ran his hands up your thighs before kneading your plump cheeks again. Any pride you felt at hypnotizing him with your ass was quickly washed away when he landed a sharp smack against your right cheek, immediately following it with one on your left, another landing back on your right. You arched your back even more for him and wiggled one of your hands down to rub sloppy circles on your clit. The thick member filling you to the brim was driving you to the edge, and the added sparks of pleasure from your sensitive nub was pushing you even closer.

He started fucking you with something even more feral than before, his groans loud and strained. Your moans melted into his with each burning stroke and every needy rub against your clit.

“God, I can feel you fuckin’ pulsin’ around me, baby,” he growled. 

“Y-you feel so fucking good,” you answered, mouth open so your hoarse moans could slip into the air.

“Yeah? This th’best cock you ever had?” 

He stole your answer with a punishing slam of his hips. Your free hand clawed at the sheets, and you tried to squirm up away from him. There was a low growl as you were yanked back, his fingers digging into the fat of your hips. The man chuckled mirthfully when you gasped, impaled on his cock yet again.

“Don’t try to run from a bounty killer, darlin’,” he rasped, his thrusts getting needier, reaching deeper and lingering longer within your quivering hole. “’Specially when your cunt feels this fuckin’ good.” 

His breathing began to match your frenzied pants, the pace of his thrusts as frantic as your fingers on your sensitive clit.

“I’ll ask ya again,” he gave you a sharp thrust, keeping you in place with his strong hands. “Is this the best cock you ever fuckin’ had?”

“Fuck—yes, baby, yes!” You howled into the mattress as you felt your walls start to spasm, a sudden heat starting to take over you. 

“C’mon, darlin’, that’s—fuck—that’s it.” The brown-eyed man’s hips slapped against your ass, the sound echoing, and he started growling—the feral and primal bounty killer finally taking over. “Fuckin’ c-come for me—fuck, I feel it—good fuckin’ girl—”

You came around his length with a scream, your legs shaking with the force of your orgasm. A white-hot fire burned from your aching, quivering hole to your fuck-drunk head. You couldn’t feel anything other than your walls clenching around his cock, couldn’t hear anything other than your desperate whines.

“F-fuckin’ come for me, you fuckin’ scoundrel,” you growled, voice shaking as you continued to ride the crest of your climax. You drunkenly smiled when you heard a low groan and whined when the head of his cock kissed something deep within you, leaving its mark on you forever, guaranteeing you’d never feel this good ever again.

“Fuckin’ God—darlin’, I could bury m’self in your delicious cunt forever—fuck!”

The brown-eyed man gave your spent hole one final, cruel thrust. He pulled out of you with a groan, and you hissed at the feel of him leaving you; he left you raw and empty and gaping. You quickly forgave him when you heard the squelch of his fist jerking himself to completion with your juices. You smiled and sighed as he covered your ass in hot ropes of his seed, reveling in how fucking needy he sounded when he reached his peak. He sucked in air through his teeth, slowly loosening his grip on your hip. You jumped when he slapped your ass, shaking your head when he smugly chuckled.

You scooted forward and dropped your aching legs to the mattress with a groan. You didn’t care about the cum he left behind; right now, you needed to catch your breath after the divine beating he’d just given your pussy. The floor creaked under his boots as he started rustling around—probably putting that poncho back on—and humming to himself. You jumped when something wet stroked across your painted ass, quieted by a low hush.

“Just cleanin’ up my mess,” he rumbled. “I may be a scoundrel—” he mocked your voice— "but my mama taught me manners.”

You chuckled and turned your head to the side, eyes fluttering open to stare at the wall and your two measly pillows. “You’re a true gentleman.”

He shrugged, then gave the tender spots on your cheeks a soft massage with his fingers and then tapped your hips and helped you roll onto your back. You melted into the mattress with a blissful sigh, not bothering to think too long about how someone so brutal could be so tender.

“I wouldn’ call myself that, darlin’.” 

His eyes met yours and you bit your lip. Even though the cloth was covering his face again, you had a hunch that what hid underneath it was handsome. You could see the corners of his eyes gently crease with the whisper of a smile as he stared down at you, running a warm, calloused hand up and down your sweaty skin.

“I’m just as rotten as the rest of ‘em.”

The next day, the owner was with you, standing behind the bar all the way down on your left and chatting with an old regular. Mr. Daniels was middle-aged, stout and balding, with skin as leathery as a saddlebag and always dressed in a white shirt. He was constantly mentioning his wife and daughters and boasted about them to anyone who would listen; he seemed to extend that fatherly protection your way sometimes. He was a kind enough man—letting you live in the attic above the saloon for free, paying you a decent wage—and you had no complaints. 

You weren’t surprised to see the brown-eyed man slamming into the saloon the next day, the patrons a little less rattled by his presence than they were yesterday. When he stomped over to where you stood, Mr. Daniels gave you a quick glance, and you responded with a smile and tilt of your head—I’m alright.

“What’ll it be, sir?” you asked. 

You could feel your sore hole throb when he looked up at you under that wide-brimmed hat, a ray of sun lighting up his golden skin and making his chestnut eyes glow. He leaned against the bar, resting a bent arm on it. Relaxed and certain of his place in the small saloon, not a hint of fear in his posture. 

“I think you already know, darlin’.”

He winked at you, and you felt heat rush to your cheeks. You turned and grabbed the whiskey you’d poured him yesterday with a nod. His eyes looked you up and down as you grabbed a glass and poured out his drink with a coy smile on your face. 

He handed you money for the drink and said, “Thanks, darlin’. Keep the change.”

You smiled. “You’re too kind, sir.”

He tipped his hat. You walked over to the register, entered the sale, and dropped the change into your jar. As you moved back to where you’d been standing, the man straightened and walked down the bar to where Mr. Daniels and the old man were talking. You watched as he pulled a scroll of yellowed parchment out from under his poncho and spread it on the dark wood counter. Out of curiosity, you took a few small steps in that direction, acting busy with organizing the liquor shelves.

“You seen this man?” he inquired.

“No, ‘fraid not,” the old man replied with a smack of his lips.

You turned around and picked up a glass and a cloth, drying it and looking around the saloon. At table in the far corner, two men sat playing cards, smoke curling out of their mouths, the brims of their hats tipped down and hiding their faces from prying eyes. A few other tables were scattered around the small saloon, more hatted men nursing their drinks at them. Their soft chatter filled the air and was speckled with the occasional sounds of a horse trotting down the road. It was a slow afternoon, but you didn’t mind if it meant you kept yourself occupied with eavesdropping.

“And you?”

“Can’t say I have,” Mr. Daniels responded.

The man hummed and started to roll the yellowed paper up. You squinted, trying to see what was printed on it. You swallowed when you read the word “WANTED” in big black letters before he rolled the edge back up. The man leaned back and shoved it back under the poncho, nodding. He knocked the rest of his drink back and set the glass on the bar top and turned to look at you with narrowed eyes before pushing it down your way. Something vicious lurked within those brown eyes, keeping itself hidden under the brim of his hat and only revealed now that the afternoon sun didn’t reach them.

You extended your arm to reach and pick the glass up, immediately bending over and dunking it in the bucket of soapy water at your feet. You bit your cheek, ashamed that you felt heat pulse between your legs at his darkened stare. Being the target of his gaze was either thrilling or terrifying; right now, you weren’t sure what it was for you. It made you wonder how he had looked at you while he was ramming his cock into you. Ultimately, whatever his gaze was didn’t matter if it made you burn just from the thought of it.

The sound of someone cursing and a stool being pushed across the floor made you snap up to stand again; your eyes widened when you saw the man’s fist wrapped in the fabric of Mr. Daniels’ shirt, pulling him against the bar with only one arm. The old man was standing back a few feet away on the poncho-clad man’s right, his long gray eyebrows knitted together. 

“You sure?” He growled.

The cantina had gone silent, all eyes focused on the man and his hold on Mr. Daniels. You were staring too, your heart racing in your chest and threatening to break your ribs.

“Even if I did,” Mr. Daniels said through gritted teeth, “I wouldn’t know where to find him.”

He glanced over at you, eyes lingering before meeting the man’s stare again. 

The man tilted his head. “You wouldn’t know?”

Mr. Daniels shook his head again. “I told you, I just wouldn’t—” his eyes landed on you— “know where—” back to the man—“to look.”

You took a step back when Mr. Daniels looked at you one last time, then back at the man. His brow was set, but you glanced down and saw his hand shaking below the bar. The man let go of him with a push and conversation in the saloon resumed as he started to stalk towards you. His dark eyes were stormy as he set his sights on you and squinted, the spurs on his boots jingling menacingly with each step. You braced yourself for impact; muscles tensing, heart racing, teeth sinking into your bottom lip, fingers curling into your palms and nails digging in. 

The collision never came. His poncho swept past you and he came to stand at one of the two small square windows at the front of the saloon. You doubted he could see much with how dirty the glass was; the sun must’ve scorched the dust and grime into the aged panes before you’d even blown into town. Frankly, you were relieved that you weren’t on the receiving end of his threatening, squinting stare. 

However, you couldn’t deny the way something in your gut fluttered when you thought you’d be the one pulled against the bar by his leather-rough hands, his fingers catching the low neckline of your blouse and skimming over your hot skin, your shallow pants gently waving his bandana. But you reckoned that the haunting flutters were probably just lusty leftovers from your tryst the other night.

He looked over his shoulder at you, still squinting and heavy with frustration. Your lips parted when he held your wide eyes with his stare, the flutters growing into a rumble and shaking you from within. Or maybe that sensation was just his heavy footfalls across the floor echoing under your skin as he turned to the left and stomped out the doors. You watched him with eager eyes as he walked to the inn across the street, beige dust kicked up with every sinister step. Before he unleashed his storm on the inn, he turned over his shoulder to look at the saloon.

You squinted, moving closer to peer out of the windows. No, he wasn’t looking at the weather-worn building—he had his burning gaze focused on you.

With a tip of his hat, he slid inside, and you leaned back. You placed a hand on your chest and felt your heart beating hard and fast underneath it. 

Mr. Daniels clicked his tongue, announcing his arrival at your side. You looked back at him, the man’s stare set on the inn.

“Some fuckin’ fella,” he grumbled, ivory face red with anger.

You nodded slowly and walked back to the soap water bucket, picking up the forgotten whiskey glass and shaking it off before drying it with a rag. You pursed your lips and tried to forget how his suntanned hands had dwarfed the glass, and tried to wipe away the memory of them digging into the meat of your thighs as he slurped up your juices with a deep moan. Despite your best efforts, they didn’t fade away, and neither did a smudge on the glass.

Everything in this town was filthy, you figured, shoving the glass to the very back of the cupboard so it could be forgotten. Even the drifters that passed through were coated in grime.

The brown-eyed man was lucky your boss needed business, because the look Mr. Daniels gave him when he walked into the saloon the next evening could scorch anything within ten miles. He skulked through the doors at dusk, eyeing up the loud crowd before making a path to where you stood pouring out four shots of whiskey. Of course you’d instantly noticed him—you’d felt the air become charged as if it were about to storm as soon as he’d arrived. The men you served paid you with paper bills and winks, knocking back the shots as you walked over to where the man stood. Without a word, you turned and grabbed a glass; you didn’t need to ask what he or any other man in a hat wanted to drink tonight. As you avoided his eyes, he stared you down. Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed a golden hand already pushing coins and a paper bill your way as the amber liquid gurgled into the glass. 

You finished and gave him a practiced smile, scooping the money into your hand as he told you to keep the change yet again. The bottle was nearly empty, but you still placed it back on the shelf before walking to the register. You avoided looking in his direction at all costs; the most you allowed yourself to see was the brim of his hat and the poncho fabric that fell over his left arm. Instead, you gave your best performance to the other patrons—chatting with the town regulars and smiling at the men passing through—and got caught up in the large crowd, the early purple of the night still settling over town.

You heard a few raps on the wood above the chatter and lively piano. When you looked up at the man, you choked on your breath. 

“Long time, no see, sweet thing,” he drawled, a cigarillo in the corner of his leering mouth. Blue eyes pierced you and his fair cheeks were tinted with a whiskey-induced blush.

You cleared your throat, smoothing your plain black skirt. “Can I get you somethin’?”

“Other than your ass in my bed? Whiskey.”

You brushed off the lewd remark, thankful there was a clean glass and whiskey on the bartender’s counter you’d must’ve forgotten to put back earlier. John, your old beau, kept his icy gaze fixed on you and puffed smoke to the side. Blond hair coated his head underneath the beige high-crowned hat, and you fought back a wince at remembering the times you shared with him. You told him the cost and he made a slow show of placing the money in your waiting hand, pressing his palm against your fingers and closing them around the money. You guessed you did a poor job of hiding a shudder, because he gave you a mirthful chuckle.

“What, sugar? You missin’ the way I’d fuck ya?”

You didn’t acknowledge his vulgar comment. You’d never been spoken to like that, even from the drunkest of men. It was just understood that men didn’t curse in conversation with ladies; even the gnarliest and dirtiest of them knew that. You could smell the liquor on John’s breath and had no interest in indulging his drunken idiocy. Instead, you bit the inside of your cheek, shoved the money in your waist apron’s pocket, turned to the left and walked a few steps down the bar, plastering a smile on your face as you greeted a new patron. The brown-eyed man still stood where you’d served him, and you caught him pulling the cloth covering his face back with pinched fingers as his other hand lifted his almost-empty glass. 

After you’d finished serving a gray-mustached man, thanking him for the tip as he walked away, your red-faced old flame slapped his palms against the wood and leaned into your space, blue eyes hazy. 

“I was talkin’ to you,” he hissed. “An’ I ain’t done yet.”

Your heart sped up and you gulped, your mouth dry and body cold. He’d only been like this with you once before—when you’d ended things with him back in your old town the day before you left. It was a cruel twist of fate that he happened to be passing through your new town a few years later. He obviously hadn’t forgotten about you, much to your dismay.

“Is there a problem here?” 

The brown-eyed man was looming behind John, his eyes narrowed. You hadn’t even noticed him move; he was like a shadow. John turned his head over his shoulder, keeping his hands planted on the counter as he eyed the man up. He scoffed and curled his fingers under his palms.

“Ain’t your business, saddle bum,” he snarled.

The man slowly stepped forward and came to stand in front of John, sweeping the front of his poncho over his right shoulder. Your eyes widened when you saw his chestnut-colored leather belt, the holster heavy with a pistol.

“It is now.”

John’s head swiveled back to you, his face smug and eyes cloudy. “I don’ remember talkin’ ‘bout this fella. Do you, sugar?”

You didn’t respond, opting to look over his shoulder and watch as the man turned John around by his shoulder. He pushed John against the edge of the counter, chestnut eyes fiery. From where you stood, it was hard to tell if he was using more force now than he had yesterday with Mr. Daniels; your gut told you he was. Something was different tonight, and it wasn’t the whiskey.

“Keep talkin’ and see what happens,” the man threatened, his voice low.

John laughed and shook his head. “What, did’ya have this soiled dove?” he asked loudly, drawing the attention of those who hadn’t noticed the stranger’s physical threat. 

The derogatory term made you gasp and take a step back, your skin hot under your off-shoulder blouse. The man’s eyes flicked over to you for only a second before squinting at John again. He shook his head, his beige cloth covering shifting slightly with the movement.

“Don’t do it,” the brown-eyed man warned.

You could barely see John toss the butt of his cigarillo on the floor, but you did see his head turn to the right and heard him spit. The people around them had moved back and gone silent, turning their backs to avoid being dragged into a fight that didn’t concern them. You didn’t blame them—you wouldn’t want to be in the path of this desert storm either.

There was a low growl and then the poncho-clad man was dragging John across the floor to the doors, tossing him out of them. There was a heavy thud when his body hit the ground, and you watched the man push the doors open and tilt his head down to look at the ground, presumably where the drunkard still sat. His hands gripped the tops of the doors, his stance wide and menacing. He shook his head, and you fought your better judgment, running to the end of the bar at the windows and then pushing through the patrons. They let you pass and then you were standing behind the cowboy at the doors, your blood cold but skin hot at the same time. 

Night had fallen, and the two yellow lanterns mounted outside the saloon cast a weak glow on the porch. John was scrambling to his feet and backing away, abandoning his hat and stumbling down the two wooden steps, almost falling on the dirt road. The man looked back at you; the side of his face visible to you darkened from the lack of light. You could only see the whites of his eyes; for once, he wasn’t squinting. Your breaths were shallow, and you pulled at your fingers.

“This bum bothering you, ma’am?” His voice was softer now, the edges smoothed, so unlike the threatening tones you’d heard only moments prior.

You swallowed thickly, but you caught John starting to rush at the stranger and you shouted, “Look out!” instead.

He wasted no time, immediately taking a step forward out of the doorway and planting his back foot before throwing a punch, his fist connecting with the bone of John’s nose. A sickening crack elicited a cry from you and a few of the other saloon girls that had seen or heard it. John dropped to the wooden porch again with a howl. 

You cautiously pushed the doors open and let them hit you on your way out. A sick pleasure filled your chest when the man kicked John down to the dirt road, his spurs jingling.

“Go to the inn and leave her alone,” he enunciated. “I’m not gonna tell you again.”

His voice and words were clearer than you’d ever heard them before. A part of you thought you heard something protective underscoring his firm warning, but it was just a delusion. It had absolutely nothing to do with you; the man clearly just didn’t want to have a scrap with John. It wasn’t because he couldn’t do it—he was obviously capable if he was a bounty hunter—but because he didn’t want to waste his time with it. 

There was a dark, sardonic laugh. “Oh, she got you real good, didn’ she?” 

You stiffened, covering your quivering lips with a hand, and the pair of brown eyes met your wide ones. His targeted vulgarity was starting to get to you, and it was becoming hard to hide. You felt embarrassed to be tearing up in front of the mysterious man, but you heard a sharp exhale as his eyes searched yours, the blast of air disturbing the cloth on his face. It was as if he was looking at you for permission, awaiting your orders and at your command—your own personal soldier, a bounty hunter tied only to you and the open land ahead of him.

“I don’ blame ya,” John sneered. “Best whore I ever had.”

Silence fell across the crowd; any lingering conversations had gone cold after that. You choked back a cry, your eyes flitting between John rising to his feet and the hunter in front of you. You noticed his fists clench before he finally took his eyes off you and stormed down into the street. He cut off the drunken cackles that filled the air with a swift punch, and you could barely see his knuckles connect with John’s jaw. He stayed upright this time and tried to swing at the man, but John’s sloppy form left him open to a punch in the gut that knocked him a foot backward. You stepped further out onto the porch, the sun-bleached wood creaking underneath your feet as you watched the stranger give John another kick before bending over to yank him up by the collar with both of his hands.

“You say one more goddamn word and I’m sendin’ you into that desert and tossin’ your canteen,” he seethed between gritted teeth.

John’s eyes landed on you, and he laughed. “That slut ain’ wor—”

He was cut off with a growl and a punch, falling to the ground. John was limp and unresponsive when the stranger nudged him with the toe of his boot. The man spat on him, then turned around to face the stunned crowd. Tears were streaming down your face, both of your hands over your nose and mouth.

“Which horse is his?” he asked, his voice deep and loud.

Only a few seconds later, he nodded; someone must’ve pointed it out. You watched him stalk over to a brown horse on his right, rifling through John’s belongings and pocketing cash and valuables he found. The man found his canteen and tossed it to the ground, then walked back over to John and dragged him to the horse. He heaved John up on his shoulder and tossed him over the saddle, then took the reins off the horse to loosely tie John’s feet together and then lead it under the horse’s belly to bind his hands together, making sure to keep the makeshift restraint taut. Finally, he led the horse to the right and out of sight; there was a shout and a whinny, then the frantic sound of hoofbeats as the horse galloped away.

The man came back into view as he approached the saloon again. The only sound filling the nighttime air was the jangling of his spurs and your sniffs as you calmed down. He made his way up to the porch, standing in front of you, his poncho still over his shoulder and revealing his brown leather vest and faded denim shirt. His eyes looked you over, lingering on your wet cheeks. 

He had just sent a drunk, unconscious man into the desert without water on a spooked horse at night. It was one of the cruelest things a man could do. And yet, here he was, his eyes soft under a furrowed brow. The yellow lamplight showed that the storms in his eyes had settled, but his forehead would bear the evidence of it in deepened lines.

“You alright, darlin’?”

The term of endearment didn’t make you squirm. Coupled with the gentle, low rumble of his voice, it made you feel…comfortable. “Comfortable” certainly wasn’t something you should feel around a man like him, and yet, you found yourself wanting to fall into his chest and let his arms support you and his warm hands sink into your flesh. 

But all you could do right now was nod and wipe the backs of your hands over your wet cheeks. You gave him a weak smile. “I’m rattled, but I’ll live.” 

You paused, looking down and then meeting his strangely soft eyes again. You wished you could see the rest of his face and not just imagine it based on how it had felt between your legs. 

“Thanks,” you said meekly. You shakily exhaled and repeated yourself. “Thank you, Brown Eyes.”

You swore you saw a smile creasing the corners of his eyes at the nickname. He waved off your thanks, tipped the black brim of his hat, and turned around to walk over to the inn. The shadow slunk back into the night. 

You were pulled out of your thoughts when your boss yelled and dispersed the crowd, then called your name. Mr. Daniels stood in front of you, his face worried as he looked you over, thick fingers gripping your biceps. The concerned and protective father inside of him was taking over, and you found it to be quite comforting and nice; you never complained when he treated you like one of his daughters. He asked you a dozen questions at once but trailed off after noticing your voice waver and bottom lip quiver. Mr. Daniels guided you to the stairs in the back of the saloon and told you to take the rest of the night off despite your protests—he’d hear none of it.

All you could think of as you lay in bed curled up under your thin blankets was the mysterious, brown-eyed stranger. How could a man so violent have such kind eyes? It just wasn’t fair, you thought to yourself as your eyes fluttered close and you drifted to sleep, the lively chatter of the saloon below a background to the memories of the stranger’s dulcet voice.

You thought that would be the last of Brown Eyes. You thought he’d be gone without a trace, a shadow haunting conversations for a while, another dusty drifter wandering the desert as if he were Moses. Just another man as wild as the terrain he traversed. You hadn’t expected to see him again unless it was in your dreams. He’d kick up dust there, then vanish with it when you opened your eyes. 

You really, truly thought his stunt last night would be the last one he performed in this town, and part of you wished it had been when he threw his shadow into the saloon the next afternoon, the sun at his back.

He leisurely strolled over to a table nestled in the back-right corner of the saloon. Three men sitting around its circular wood top playing cards. The jangle of his spurs accompanying each cocksure step of his boots alerted them to his approach, the decorative threads on the edge of his poncho fluttering gently. Finally, Brown Eyes stood with his back to you at the right side of one of the men, his black hat tilting slightly to look down at him. The other two men leaned forward and glanced at each other. 

You took a few steps to the right and angled your head a bit to see what was going on. You caught the two men slowly placing their cards on the table and trailing their hands to the edge of the circular table. The man looking up at Brown Eyes was red in the face and spoke quietly enough for his words to slip underneath other conversations in the saloon and go undetected by your ears. Your eyebrows knitted together as you watched the interaction from afar, then raised when the cowboy’s poncho flew over his shoulder.

“Christ almighty,” you murmured as his hand twitched at his thigh. 

You looked over to the left at Mr. Daniels, and he gave you a sideways glance. He and the regular in front of him were focused on the altercation; a few of the patrons in the bustling afternoon crowd had noticed as well. Despite the attention, you knew that nobody would intervene. This wasn’t anyone’s business except for the men in the corner. 

As you watched one of the seated men reach for his pistol, you swore under your breath. Out of instinct, you dropped to your feet, crouching behind the bar just as the sound of gunshots pierced the air. The sharp blasts made you cover your ears, and then they suddenly stopped. Instead, a wounded groan filled the air, then the crack of a fist against bone and the thump of a body hitting the wooden floor to punctuate the statement. There was a curt jingle of spurs and an oof, signals of a sharp kick.

“Alive or dead, your choice,” a familiar gravelly voice stated. 

It was flat and indifferent, so unlike the man who had come to your aid and who had cleaned you up after ruining you with the relentless thrusts of his hips. Yes, he’d been violent last night, but there was something gentle in his eyes hidden within their storm clouds. It almost made your heart ache, but then you remembered what he’d done to Mr. Daniels and how he’d sentenced a man to death without a second thought. You remembered who Brown Eyes was at his core, and the warm ache in your chest withered away.

“You son of a bitch!” A man yelled. “I’ll fuckin’ strangle you!”

A mirthful chuckle. “I’d like to see you try.”

There was shuffling, a shout, a gunshot, then silence. The bounty killer had won again.

When your boss stood, you followed suit, your heart racing. You knew that the customers you served weren’t all honest people with honest jobs. Hell, it was naïve to think that about anyone you met out on the frontier. You’d just never experienced a gunfight inside the saloon. You’d seen a few unfold on the dusty main road splitting the town in half, but no bullets had ever blown holes through the saloon’s grimy windows; the sharp smell of gunpowder had never tainted its air. You took a few deep breaths and tried to steady your shaking hands. Even after all these years out west, you still had wild experiences waiting to shock you.

Brown Eyes holstered his revolver with a flourish, then walked to the bar. 

“Here, for the trouble.” He placed a few bills and some coins down in front of a glaring Mr. Daniels, then tipped his hat at you. “Apologies, miss.”

He walked back over to the dead man then crouched down and lifted the body over his left shoulder. You heard him mumble under his breath and turn towards the doors to leave. You caught his eyes and swallowed when you saw how dark they were under his hat’s black brim. He silently left the saloon, the doors swinging and clacking behind him. All that remained were two dead men splayed out in their chairs, arms out and hats tipped back.

You looked at Mr. Daniels. He shook his head and sighed.

“And that, my dear, is why God destined some men to be carpenters.” 

He wiped off his hands with a frayed cloth and tossed it on the counter. Mr. Daniels shuffled behind you and down the bar with a huff as the patrons’ chatter began again. He quickly walked to the saloon doors and gave them a sharp push, stepping into the hot afternoon sun.

“’M leavin’ at dawn t’morrow,” Brown Eyes said into your cunt. 

A hot lick of his tongue made your hips buck. He swiped it side to side over your clit as he planted his hands on your hips and forced them into the mattress. You clawed at the sheets underneath you, your head thrown back in ecstasy. Another obscene slurp and moan from the bounty hunter sent you reeling and added to the growing tension in your belly. You forced yourself up to recline on your forearms, looking down at the hatless man hungrily eating you out as if it were his first meal in weeks. 

You choked out a breath when the tip of his tongue swirled itself around your hole and then pushed inside of it. Lusty eyes met yours, and you felt his lips curl into a smile against your spit and slick-drenched center. He held your gaze and sucked on the hardened nub, squeezing the meat of your hips when you moaned.

“You like that, darlin’?” he asked, gently sucking again and chuckling at your gasp.

You nodded emphatically. “Fuck, yes, I do, Brown Eyes,” you panted, the muscles in your gut tightening when he groaned at the nickname, your legs starting to tense. “I really, really do.”

When you closed your eyes and let your head fall back with a whine, he shook his head and nipped at the sensitive bud, making you jump and look back down at him. He was staring up at you, something menacing in his eyes. It made your walls flutter, it thrilled you, it made your heart race even more. He was reminding you that even though he was serving you, he was still in control—he was always in control, no matter where he was.

He licked a slow, broad stripe up your cunt, then pulled back. You groaned in frustration at the cruel loss of contact, the heat and tension within you backing away from the glorious peak he’d gotten so close to pushing them over. 

“You’re so mean,” you whined.

You heard him suck in a breath between his teeth. “You’re breakin’ my heart, baby.” 

His room at the inn had a few lamps to combat the dark desert night, but only one was lit. The lamp on the bedside table to his right cast a little light on him, but the curve of your thigh and the bend of your knee had shrouded him in black shadows while he knelt on the floor and ravished you with his tongue. Now that your legs had dropped to rest and bend over the edge of the mattress, you could see the corners of his brown eyes creased with a smile that he hid behind your dripping cunt. He dipped one thick finger inside of you and snickered when you gasped and startled. Your pussy was still throbbing and aching for release, and it wouldn’t stop until he pushed you over that heavenly edge. 

Warm hands massaged your flesh and trailed down to grip the underside of your thighs. His fingers dug in and lifted them a little bit so he could turn his head and press wet kisses on your inner thighs. You felt the ridge of his nose as his lips worked. Delicate eyelashes fluttered against tan cheeks. Brown Eyes gave you one last kiss and a playful nip that made you giggle.

“See, darlin’?” he murmured into your sensitive skin, opening his eyes again. “I can be nice.”

When you raised your eyebrow, he dramatically rolled his eyes. He turned around and stood up with a grunt that made you bite back a chuckle. Yellow light flickered on his bare back and revealed a few scarred splotches; you’d convinced him to take off his shirt and vest earlier, and now it was time for the rest. You swung up to sit on your knees as Brown Eyes hummed and took off his dark denim pants and underdrawers in one motion. 

He walked over to the chair next to a short dresser beside the door, meticulously folding the clothing and setting it underneath his folded shirt. His poncho and vest were draped over the back of the tiny chair, his hat resting on top of the shirt, a beige cloth peeking out beneath it. Dusty brown boots waited on the floor. The brown leather holster weighed down the poncho. A rifle leaned against the dresser—“A Winchester 73, m’favorite”—to finish the cowboy’s closet.

Brown Eyes cleared his throat and ran a large hand over the back of his head, fingers teasing his soft brown curls. He turned around to face you, striding over, his thick cock hard and bouncing with each step. It nearly distracted you from his face—his bare face, the handsome one he’d been hiding all this time. 

He lifted your chin with two fingers and you nearly melted into the mattress. Your eyes wandered all over his features, greedy for every detail. You were finally seeing the curved nose you’d felt against your thighs and folds. A neat mustache lay above the pink lips that had brought you to shambles. Scruff lined the jaw you’d stolen a look at a few days ago and crept up his cheeks. You noticed a bare patch in the scruff to the right of his chin, and your eyes traced the thin canyons on his forehead left behind from years of erosion and desert sun.

“My mama told me it’s rude to stare,” Brown Eyes chastised, the corner of his mouth quirking up a bit.

“I didn’t think it was rude to stare at art,” you quipped back, leaning forward a bit more when he brushed his thumb over your lips and massaged one of your breasts in his hand.

Your heart sped up when he bent down, his face only inches from yours. You could feel his steady exhales heat the air you inhaled through parted lips, his handsome face stealing every bit of sense from your head and making you weak. 

He clicked his tongue. “She also told me lyin’ is bad.”

Your eyebrows knitted together. “Why would I lie to someone like you? I’ve seen what happens. I’ve seen what you can do, Brown Eyes.”

You trailed off, biting your lip when he sharply inhaled. Damn, he sure loved when you called him that. He hooked his thumb into the corner of your mouth, his lust-blown eyes watching it as he swept it across your lower lip and your cunt ached with want. 

“You’re right, darlin’,” he acquiesced. “Didn’ take you for the lyin’ type anyway.” 

He gave you a soft smile you didn’t think bounty killers were capable of and you simpered. Brown Eyes pinched your chin before sitting next to you and laying back, pumping his cock in his fist. You adjusted yourself so you could trail your hands across his hot skin, explore its ridges and softness, soak in its warmth. Your hands graced across it until they cupped his jaw, startling him with a sensation he probably hadn’t experienced in years. 

You bent down with half-lidded eyes and gently parted lips. Chestnut eyes locked with yours right before you crashed your lips into his and let one of your hands reach and grasp his cock. The interruption made him moan into your mouth, the sound desperate and low in his throat. You shared a whine with Brown Eyes when his right hand forced itself between your thighs and shuddered when his fingertips stroked up and down the seam of your folds. He smiled against your lips when you began rolling your hips to steal more of his scalding touch.

He pulled back from your lips and whispered, “You wanna go for a ride, darlin’?”

You bit your lip and nodded. Brown Eyes grinned at you—this man was full of surprises tonight—and turned himself to lay in the center of the mattress. You moved and knelt between his slightly spread legs, your feet touching the wooden footboard as you stared down at him. He was biting his lip and let them part when you massaged your tits before bending over, making sure to arch your back, your lips hovering near the fat head of his cock. You looked back up at him coquettishly—you were in control now, teasing him with hot exhales and smiling after he gave you a few needy groans.

When you swirled your tongue around the head of his cock, you felt him tug the sheets with a hiss. A lick from the base to the tip made him swear; he was finally getting a taste of his own medicine. You planted your hands on his hips and held his gaze for a few more seconds before closing your eyes and wrapping your lips around him, slowly bobbing up and down, working lower and lower as you went. Your brow furrowed, spit starting to dribble down your chin, and you opened your eyes just in time to see him throw his head back and curse.

“Fuck, baby, god damn,” Brown Eyes rasped, groaning when you pressed your tongue against him as you slid back up again before twisting your head back down, just over halfway down his throbbing length. 

He choked when you took every inch of him, your spit-covered lips pressing against the curls at the base. You could only hold it for a moment—his girth and length pushed you to the limit—and then you bobbed back up and swirled your tongue around the bulging head before releasing him from your mouth with a wet pop. He looked down at you as you licked up a few beads of liquid leaking from his cock, wrapping a hand around his shaft before sucking him back into your mouth, wildly working your tongue around the head as you stroked. Your pussy throbbed when he whined, one of his hands coming to clasp your forearm as you snaked your free hand up his torso, splaying your fingers out for stability. 

He’d grown even harder somehow, and your hand trailed down to give his balls a quick, light squeeze, eliciting an even louder whine; you hoped that nobody occupied the room next to his. Your hand went back to work his shaft, but he tugged your forearm and his other hand held your cheek. You looked up at him and slowly let his cock fall out of your mouth, watching his eyes scrunch closed and eyebrows knit together, his plush pink lips falling open. His chestnut eyes opened again as you straddled his torso, your ass bumping against the leaking length, making him hiss and smile.

“Baby, if you kept that up, I would’a come down your throat.” He panted and shook his head. “But I wanna see you painted in it.”

You giggled when his large palms clapped on your cheeks, grabbing the meat of them and spreading them.

“Go ‘head, darlin’,” he urged. “Ride this cowboy’s cock.”

“Don’ have to tell me twice,” you chuckled, giving him a kiss before sitting back on your knees. 

You started to slowly lower yourself onto his cock, lips parting as his fat head notched inside of your slick and needy hole, already splitting you open. His hands traveled up the curve of your ass and over your hips to rest on your thighs, low groans coaxing you further down. You planted your hands next to his ears and stared into his eyes as you slammed your ass against him, hissing as he filled you to the brim. His eyes squeezed shut and he whined, hands moving back to your ass.

“You take me so well, darlin’, fuck,” he growled. His eyes bore deep into yours, and he gently squeezed your cheeks. “Now, c’mon, baby girl. Move those gorgeous hips.”

You slowly rolled your hips back a few times, feeling your ass shake and letting your cunt adjust to his size. When you started to speed up, the man nodded and grunted along with your pants. The tension inside of you had returned with a vengeance, your walls already fluttering after only a few minutes of riding him. You picked up the pace and added another movement, sliding up and down, hammering back down with a filthy, wet sound. You threw your head back and shifted to rest on your knees, sinking down to the base and holding his gaze as he groaned. You began massaging your breasts and circled your hips, remaining fully seated on his cock.

“F-fuck, feels amazing, Brown Eyes,” you moaned, your index and middle fingers landing on your clit and rubbing small circles around it. 

You lifted your head to look at him when he swatted your fingers away. Brown Eyes gave you a sly smile. “Allow me, darlin’. You keep on ridin’, and don’ stop ‘til I say so.”

You nodded and then moaned when he pressed his thumb against the sensitive nub. You fell forward and planted your hands next to his ears again, your face twisted in ecstasy as he pushed you to the peak he’d denied you earlier. You kept pounding your ass back, picking up the pace when his pants began to grow louder, riding towards his own climax along with you.

“Oh, fuck—fuck—Brown Eyes, I’m gonna come,” you gasped, something white hot threatening to scorch you from the inside out.

“Do it, darlin’, come for me,” he growled, his thumb working your clit frantically as the roll of your hips became erratic. “Clench my cock, soak me—”

You cut off his encouragement with a cry of pleasure, your entire body shaking and burning, your cunt pulsing around him and drenching him in your juices. You slumped forward to rest on your forearms, and he went to work, thrusting his hips up into you, grunting and growling into your ear. You stared at him, your head heavy as you basked in the afterglow of your white-hot climax. When you sloppily kissed his lips, spit still wet on your chin, Brown Eyes growled and pushed you onto your back, bending your sweaty legs and forcing your knees towards your ears as much as they could. You whimpered when he fucked into you with feral grunts and growls, your slick-coated walls letting the head of him push deep inside of you. The force was pushing you towards the footboard, and he placed his large hand on the top of your head to shield you from it and hold you in place for his cock.

“Fuck—your pussy feels fuckin’ incredible,” he opened his eyes, and there was a familiar dark storm brewing in them, his pupils blown as he gritted his teeth and increased his pace. 

“Come on me,” you whispered, still drunk with pleasure, eyes brimming with tears from his brutal strokes. You reached your hand up and cupped his jaw with pleading eyes. 

Your touch sent him over the edge, and he pulled out of you with a moan. You let your arms fall back and bend behind your head, watching him give his cock one final pump before thick ropes of his spend painted your body. You closed your eyes and smiled listening to his choked moans, then opened them again to see his head thrown back and cock throbbing as his body started to come down from his climax.

Brown Eyes stared back down at you and smiled, eyes trailing up your torso from your hips to your breasts. You blissfully sighed and smiled, and he flopped down at your right side with a huff. You looked over at him, his head propped up on his hand, his handsome face and body masked by a little darkness with the light behind his back. 

“You look mighty lovely covered in my come, darlin’.” He gave you a gentle kiss and smiled against your lips. “Prettiest thing I ever seen.”

“Surely I can’t be prettier than a bunch of money in your hand for a bounty,” you half-teased.

He pulled back and furrowed his brow, shaking his head. Your eyes fluttered close when his hand cupped your cheek—it was trembling against your skin—and you leaned into his warm touch.

“Darlin’,” he said sternly. You opened your eyes to meet his again, the storm in them suddenly gone. “Didn’ I tell you my first day here that I’d found somethin’ better than money?”

You furrowed your brow. “I..I think so,” you responded hesitantly.

“I know I did, darlin’,” he confirmed, brushing his thumb across the apple of your cheek. “An’ didn’ I tell ya I’m not a liar?” You nodded and he pressed a kiss against your sweaty forehead, then pulled back and murmured, “You’re lovelier than any sunset I ever seen.” 

The compliment made you shyly smile and giggle, but it quickly faded as you stared into his eyes. A question weighed on your chest, and you worried your lip between your teeth. You’d covered it up and hid it, and now you couldn’t hold it back any longer—especially since he was leaving town tomorrow.

“Brown Eyes, will you ever come back?” you asked meekly. You quickly added, “Here, I mean. To the town. Not to me.” Your skin warmed with embarrassment.

He hesitated, glancing at the sheets before looking back into your eyes. “Well, you want me to?”

Did you really want him to, even after all he’d done since he stormed into town and held it—and you—captive in his fury? The man with a revolver on his hip and a Winchester 73 and a belt of bullets? The one who’d sent John to his death, who’d threatened Mr. Daniels, who’d killed three men without blinking? Did you really want the bounty killer to return and shroud you in his stormy shadow again?

“Yeah,” you smiled. “I want that.”

He smiled against your lips as he kissed you, and you wondered if he ever smiled after killing a bounty as you tangled your fingers in his hair.

masterlist a/n: whew! thank you for reading all of this! it really ran away from me. please let me know what you think with comments and reblogs !!

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@bbyanarchist @threeheadedlamb @dindjarinsmut @djarinslove @saradika @tortor-mcgee @sofasoap @hardlystrictlystarwars, @hrtsforpascal @notsosecretspy @totallynotastanacc @elinedjarin @maddiedrmr @kaqua @fairy-tale-writer @charlottetownwaffles, @theamuz, @jellybeanstacey0519 @tizylish, @graciexmarvel, @dheet, @kalea-bane, @mymindfuckery

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #thank you for reading this if you made it through #it was a beast to write but I loved it #the mandalorian spoilers #din djarin fic #mando x reader #mando x you #din x reader #din djarin x f!reader #cowboy din #old west au #the mandalorian #my fic #din x you #din djarin smut

[frost-queen]

Stranded (Reader x Din Djarin)

Requested by: anon, Forever tag:@missmelodramatic, @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22 @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve, @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly@denkisclown, @wildieflower, @meyocoko, @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco,   @subjecta13-thefangirl, @m-rae23, @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr, @swampthing07, @melsunshine

Summary: You are stranded because the Razor Crest broke down. Bickering like an old married couple, tensions rise even when Din is not accepting your help. Frustrated by him denying your help, you leave, confusing him. When you didn't return he goes looking for you, leading to a cute moment as he was worried sick about you.

You sighed loud, resting your knuckles under your jaw. Staring mindlessly in front of you. Nothing to see but dessert sand and rocks. Quirking your eyebrow up, you looked to your left. Grogu silently waddling over to a rock. Narrowing your eyes, you could tell what he was trying to do. On a rock sat an insect unaware of the child coming closer. Grogu snuck up to it nearly to the rock.

His little hand stretched out. You snickered, thinking for sure he wouldn’t catch it. Grogu flicked his hand up as your eyes widened. The insect was floating in the air, legs dangling for any grip. Grogu guided the insect closer to him, widening his mouth. – “Grogu no!” – you shouted out, jumping up. Din bumped his helmet against the Razor Crest from hearing you shout so loud. – “What is it?” – he asked worriedly, coming in sight.

He stared at you standing close to Grogu. Hands on your hips and a dangerously motherly scowl on your face. – “Out! Spit it out!” – you demanded, pointing at the ground. – “Now!” – you called out when he wasn’t listening. Grogu opened his mouth, spitting insect out. The poor creature dropped to the ground, disorientated for a few moments. The insect fluttered with its wings. You squealed loud, ducking all around as it came flying your way. Din sighing loud at the sight of it.

The insect seemed to keep circling near you, to find the proper direction. – “Ieuw, ieuw get away!” – you freaked out, moving around to avoid that it bumped into you. Squealing loud, you dropped to the ground as it finally flew away. – “Maybe you should’ve let the kid eat it?” – Din said from afar, making you lift your head up. – “Why don’t you occupy yourself with repairing the ship.” – you answered with a sarcastic smile.

He sighed deep, turning around. You got up, going after him. Grogu silently following wanting to be close by. You got onto the Razor Crest. Din walking around in search for parts and tools. You watched him for a few seconds. He groaned loud, searching through the parts. Picking one up yet throwing it back as it wasn’t the right part. – “I told you to check the Razor Crest when we left.” – you said, wobbling on your feet, hands behind your back.

Grogu came joining your side, looking curiously up to you. Din grabbing the edge firmly. – “I am well aware of that.” – he answered grumpy. – “If you had checked everything out, we wouldn’t be stranded now.” – you continued to speak. Din tensed his jaw. – “Y/n!” – he called out annoyed. Looking firmly your way. – “I get it!”

He continued to ruffle in the compartment for the right parts. Groaning frustratingly when he couldn’t find it. You took a deep breath, walking up to him. – “What do you need, let me help you.” – you suggested, hand moving into the compartment. – “No!” – he called out, slapping your hand away. – “I don’t need your help! Just leave it to me!” – you rubbed your hand with a sour face. – “Fine!” – you bit back, moving away.

Turning round, you noticed a tool. You went over to it, picking it up. – “I’ll check the…” – you started, words swallowed back in when Din had stormed over, grabbing your wrist roughly. He plucked the tool from your hand. – “I’ll do it.” – he insisted. You sighed loud. You didn’t mind that he could tell how annoyed you were with him. – “I’m just trying to help maybe it will go faster this way so we can finally leave this forsaken dump!” – you outed with frustration.

“I didn’t choose to be here.” – Din answered setting the tool loudly down. – “Neither did I, but it was your ship that decided to malfunction around this dump.” – you replied loudly. Grogu looking from Din to you and back, blinking confusingly. – “Sure! Blame it on me.” – Din said bothered as you could tell clearly in his voice. – “I wasn’t blaming you; I was blaming the ship.” – you made clear that was the case.

“Same thing!” – Din puffed out with a wave of his hand. You rolled with your eyes, walking off. Grogu squeaked loud, ears flattening. Din took a deep breath, setting his hands down. Lowering his head to compose himself from any further outbursts. It wasn’t personal but the emergency landing just wasn’t something he was planning on.

You opened the lid to the lower compartments, wanting to check there if everything was still alright. – “Y/n no!” – Din called out, jogging over. He grabbed you just in time by your elbow, withholding you from letting yourself go deeper into the hole. – “What?” – you called out confused.

Din pulled at your arm as you were forced to crawl back out, feet dangling in the air. – “I told you no.” – he said loud and clear. – “I heard you.” – you answered sitting down the hole to pull your legs out. – “Like I said I want to help.” – you repeated. Din closed the lid. – “Like I said I don’t need your help. Let me do it alone!”

“What will you have me do then?” – you asked desperately. – “I don’t know, just stay out of my way. Go play with the kid or so?” – he suggested with a deep sigh. You looked down to where Grogu was. Having enough of it, you spun around, walking off. Din furrowed his brows confused as to where you were going.

Perhaps you were going to cool off outside. Muttering frustrated, you walked away from the ship. Needing to be away from him. You loved him, but at times like this you didn’t like it when he wouldn’t let you help around. It would be twice as fast if you helped out. Fine, you weren’t a mechanic, but you weren’t a complete idiot to repairing things. If only he explained a few things to you or let you do simple tasks that would’ve been fine.

No, he rather does everything himself. If he had listened to you in the first place, you wouldn’t even be here bickering over a broken down ship. Puffing loud, you weren’t even sure where you were going. You just needed to be away. Maybe by the time you were back, the Razor Crest would be repaired.

Din looked down at Grogu who had come to him. – “She’ll be back.” – he reassured her. Grogu moved his little hand out to the opening. – “No, you should stay here. I could maybe use your help.” – He picked up Grogu, moving further down the Razor Crest with him. Din looked over his shoulder, wondering if you had entered again. Taking a deep breath it wasn’t the case. He was kneeling down.

Grogu lifted up a tool, nearly falling back from the heaviness as Din took it from him. – “She still can’t be mad right?” – he asked Grogu. Grogu moved his shoulders up with a few babbling sounds. Din sighed, unscrewing a few screws. Sighing again, he lowered his tool. – “It is not like she should be mad. True we bickered a bit, but all companions do that, don’t they?” – he looked at Grogu again for an answer.

Grogu flattening his ears. – “You are right.” – Din spoke. – “I should just apologize like any good man would.” – He was about to get up when he remembered something. – “It is not like she shouldn’t apologize. We both took a part in this act. So…so.” – he swayed the tool up and down at Grogu. – “She should apologize as well. It wasn’t all my fault.”

Grogu looked up and down at the tool, mesmerized. Din grunted, looking away. – “It has to be me, right?” – he asked Grogu who wasn’t even following along anymore. Grogu squeaked excited. Din got up, picking Grogu up with him. He set him in the carrier as it followed behind him. – “Y/n?” – he said stepping outside. – “Y/n are you here?” – he turned round the ship in the hopes of encountering you.

Looking both ways, he went fully round without bumping into you. – “Y/n?” – he called out. Louder as the worriedness slightly rose inside of him. He started moving away from the Razor Crest further into the nothingness. – “Y/n where are you?” – he muttered looking carefully around. The carrier following him as he began his search. He kept a steady pace, making sure he had seen everything. After a five minute walk, his worriedness went through the roof. Quickening up his pace, ready to shout out your name in desperation.

If anything had happened to you, he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself. He searched further coming to a sudden stop. There you were. He started running up to you, panting. – “Oh Din look what I found.” – you said, showing him the berries. He grabbed your wrist firmly as the berries dropped to the ground. – “Hey! Do you know how long it took me to get those!” – you shouted.

Din pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you. – “Don’t run off like that!” – he pressed his hands deeper onto your back. – “Aww.” – you teased. – “Did you miss me.” – pouting your lips, you found it a bit funny. He grunted loud, moving you to arms-length. – “I was worried sick! I thought… I thought you… Dank Farrik Y/n I thought you were dead or something!” – he called out with heavy breaths.

Your smile dropped, seeing how sincere he was about it. Even with his helmet on, you could just see how much it affected him. – “I’m sorry.” – you answered, slightly ashamed. – “I had no idea I was gone for that long.” – He exhaled loud, holding his hands against your cheeks. – “I’m sorry. I apologize for all I’ve said.” – he spoke, brushing his thumb along your cheek. You smiled softly. – “I’m sorry too. I let my frustrations get the better of me. I shouldn’t have projected it towards you.” – you told him.

Din’s shoulders untensed as he took a deep breath. You came closer, one hand placed against his helmet as you left a kiss there near his cheek. He embraced you, holding you close to his chest. You looked down feeling something poke against your side. Grogu sitting in the carrier wanted to join the hug. You laughed loud, picking him up. Holding him, you hugged Din once more. Grogu content as he had a big smile on his face.

----------------------------------------

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[flowerpotmage]

statue at the bedside (18+)

Mando uses just his fingers to win in a kind-of-sort-of game of sexual teasing.

Pair: Din Djarin & afab!Reader

Notes: fingering, implied established relationship, the helmet stays on. reader is entirely undescribed aside from naming anatomy. no use of y/n and no pronouns/gendered terms used for reader

Word Count: 900

Read this work on Ao3 here. If you like my work, please consider leaving kudos there as well! You do not need an account to do so.

Your breath hitches in your chest, his void-dark visor fixed on you as his gloved fingers graze your covered chest under your collarbone. He doesn’t speak, and so neither do you. You don’t even dare to part your lips for fear of a moan escaping.

He’s still. So, so still where he sits on the edge of your bed. Only his hand moves in the dim lighting, the orange-fingered glove ghosting over your body.

He’s teasing you. And it’s working.

His hand glides down over your chest, over your sternum. It flattens over your ribs as it glides over your stomach, slides down and then over your thigh, giving a gentle squeeze.

Your breaths are forcibly measured, but this, the squeeze of his hand on your thigh, causes your lips to finally part for a small inhaled gasp.

His hand pauses, still tight, before he loosens his grip. Not to remove his hand, no, but to glide his palm up and down your thigh agonizingly slowly. Again, he squeezes gently, and again your breath catches.

His visor turns away from your face and towards his hand. His fingers dip towards your inner thigh, and before your inhale is even over they retreat, returning to their previous pattern.

You struggle not to open your legs, but you know he can probably feel the way you’re on the verge of trembling under his hand from tension alone.

His fingers dip to the tender inside of your thigh again, and you can’t help it—the smallest, barest little whimper escapes you as your leg trembles.

His helmet turns to look at you. He continues this now, intentionally, hand rubbing and squeezing in tantalizing cycles and circles, the push and pull turning your leg slightly open to him.

You’ve given up on controlling your breaths now. He knows what effect he’s having on you. So it’s all the more baffling when he leans marginally towards you, hand retracing its previous path from your thigh up to the flat plane under your collarbone. He pauses there, palm flat and solid over your heart.

And then he lifts it, pushes his gloved fingers against your softly parted lips.

“Bite.”

Eyes wide, you do, slowly bearing your teeth down on the soft leather.

As slowly as you had bitten down, his hand now pulls free of the glove. He takes it from your teeth, gentle as ever, and drops it on the pillow next to your head. Now his bare fingers are against your lips, but you don’t need an order to know what to do now—obediently you open your mouth for two of his fingers to slide in. He presses down on your tongue and you press back, sliding the flat of it up and down the seam of his fingers as if trying to separate them. You close your lips, and suck, and all too soon he’s pulling them free.

You don’t know when you closed your eyes, but when you open them you see that he’s finally as affected as you are. The modulator in his helmet hides the sound of his breaths from you, but you can see the rise and fall of his chest.

His hand, taken too soon from your mouth, goes to the waistband of your trousers, frantically digging their way under the fabric and smoothly sliding into your underwear while he keeps his gaze firmly on your face.

You gasp when his fingers, wet with your spit, graze over your clit and down further to play with your slick opening.

“Mm,” he hums with satisfaction, the sound gravelly and rough even through the modulator of his helmet.

A soft, nearly keening moan escapes you as you tilt your head back. He approaches this with the same unrelenting focus as everything else he does, fingers swirling and sliding and stroking with purpose. The more sound you make, the more your hips shift against his hand, the harder he presses down against you, his fingertips never truly breaching your entrance.

Still, the press of his fingers and the rising sounds of just how soaked you really are drive you further to desperation.

“Please,” you whisper, grabbing the sheets. “Need– I need–”

He doesn’t reply, but he does slip two fingers inside you, gently thrusting as he curls them up. It’s not what you wanted to ask for, but it shorts the signals in your brain enough to cut off your begging and send you full tilt into a moaning mess. His fingers inside you, the fleshy base of his thumb where it turns to palm against your clit.

“Please,” you start again once you’ve regained some control over your voice. You need more, you want him inside you. “Please– M–”

“No.”

Incredibly, his denial is what breaks you, and suddenly everything is white and black all at once, you’re arching into his hand while reaching out to grab his thigh and squeezing while you gasp.

When you come down he pauses before removing his fingers, sliding them out of your clothes. You watch, panting and giddy, as he slides his hand under his helmet and sucks his fingers clean with a quiet satisfied hum that registers as more of a static crackle.

Then his hand reappears, and he leans forward, your heart skips a beat as his hand reaches forward—and picks up the glove he’d dropped on the pillow.

“Get dressed,” he says. “We’re landing soon.”

#din x reader #din x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mando x reader #din djarin smut #x reader

[kyberblade]

Give It To Me In Basic (Din x Reader)

A/N: This is just something that the premise came to mind when I listened to a song and I couldn’t let it sit. I wrote it in practically one sitting and just saw where it went - it was basically an exercise to stretch my writing muscles after a while away, and it felt really good! It’s incredibly sappy and domestic and I hope you like it. 🥹 (Not a part of my other series, this is an entirely new Din x Reader to me. Hi. Hello.) I also wanted to try writing in “she/her” instead of “you”, but this is still definitely an entirely blank reader insert. No physical descriptions are used. No mention of Y/N.

I do not own Star Wars or it’s characters. Sadly. But I carry them in my heart. Does that count for something? My soul says yes.

Summary: Din finds softness after a life of rigidity, and he’s not willing to let it go. (*Chandler Bing voice* Could I have been more vague?)

Warnings: Fluff? Like tooth rotting amounts of fluff and domesticity. Din being a sap. Grogu being the cutest thing you ever did see, and Din is once again a warning in and of himself in this one. Swearing. Mentions of typical show violence. Mando’a. Swearing. Mentions of pregnancy at the end. Some spoilers if you squint? (But if you’re here, you know how this works.) (No but like really, it follows the plot of season 2 and TBoBF, so mentions of that briefly, if you don’t want that spoiled, don’t read.) Helmetless Din. What? Who said that? 👀😬 Again: No mention of Y/N. (In fact this is written as “she/her” instead of “you”, but is an entirely blank reader insert.)

Word count: 1,206 (I know. I am as shocked as you are at how brief this is.)

Thanks to @fordo-kixed-rex for reading over this and sending me a caps locked series of texts as a response. And to @what-the-heckin-heck and @littlemisspascal for telling me it’s not too fluffy/sappy/much.

Masterlist

Xxx

There was a softness Din had come to know, grown familiar with, and let it entangle with his life like a well kept plant on someone’s warm windowsill.

It had snuck up on him when he’d least expected it. Not in the middle of a battle, or on some backwater planet, but in the quiet moments in between.

It had a heart unlike anything he’d ever seen. Something vibrant and larger than life, that welcomed him and his son with open arms and without a second glance.

The heart was worn on the sleeve of a woman, who by every standard was normal, nothing brilliant or captivating, but to Din she was everything. He couldn’t look away whenever she was nearby, her beauty both inside and out something that pulled him in with a force he didn’t understand.

Her touch sent shockwaves across his skin, the first time she shook his hand making him shudder even through his gloves. As time went on and he found himself lost in a darkened hull of the Crest, the woman at his side as they tangled further up in one another, his breath caught in his chest as her slight hand reached up to cup his cheek.

It wasn’t the touch of a lover, the sensuality of the trace of her fingers that stole from him. It was the closeness. The nearness. Something in the touch felt like home.

And he never felt at home again unless those hands were cradling him in some way, even through his armor. He’d lean into the touch, though he couldn’t feel it through his beskar, he swore he could. This was home. This is what he was trying to come back to.

Her laugh made him laugh. A foreign and buzzing feeling climbing out of his chest. Just the thought of it made him chuckle, shaking his head and telling his contact it was nothing, he was just amazed the bounty was so stupid.

Maybe it was selfish, but he didn’t want to share her with anyone. He’d found a little slice of happiness in this godforsaken galaxy, why did he have to let anyone else know about it?

When he lay on the ground, wind knocked out of him after an enemy had gotten a lucky hit, it wasn’t the sky above he saw, it was her eyes. They sparkled mischievously at him anytime she plotted her next move, often to get him to just relax. 

For years he’d seen calculating gazes, sneers, narrowed eyes of distrust and hate. He saw none of these with her. Only peace.

How ironic, he thought, getting back to his feet before causing carnage. To get back to the softness, there must first be all this chaos.

He saw it each time he came home. The light dulled just slightly in her eyes. She loved him just as much, if not more than before, but she longed to tell him while looking into his own eyes. She knew the Creed. She understood. Doesn’t mean it hurt any less. For either of them.

It was a night on the Crest, he woke with a start at the silence. He didn’t hear the child’s snores. Realization sunk in as he remembered the kid was with the Jedi. He was used to the silence as he slept, then he became used to the kids soft sounds, but they’re gone now. But slowly he eased back asleep, his eyes falling slowly shut when he realized she was there, in his arms, breathing deep and sound asleep…. His new familiar. He softly smiled as she started to snore.

Now the child was back in his care, and he was off to Mandalore to restore his honor, become a Mandalorian in the eyes of the Creed once more. His new ship had no room for anyone other than himself and Grogu, so he made arrangements to leave her on Navarro with Karga. 

After a private goodbye, where he saw the disappointment she would never voice once again painting her features, he set the ship to ascend up into the atmosphere. Once he was just above the clouds, he made a last minute decision, hailing her on her comm as he made a loop to come back around under the cloud cover.

“Look up,” was all he would say. 

But as he made a final pass by, just under the clouds without his helmet, he could see her on the ground, her smile like a beacon for miles around. From this distance the only thing she could really see clearly was his smile, but that was everything.

Her breath stuttered over the comm. “Meh'shab? Me'dinuir…. Ranov'la. Me'dinuir…. Mesh’la.” (“The fuck? To share…. Secret. To give each other…. Beautiful.”)

Din laughed. “Wanna try that again?”

She huffed. “Sorry. Ori'meshla.” (“Very beautiful.”)

Din snorted out a laugh.

She sighed, her words coming out barely above a breath. “Stars, I hope our ad has your smile.” (“Child.”)

Din paused, about to pull up on the controls. “What?”

“Wayii! Did I say that out loud?” She looked up to see Din circling lower and lower. “Don’t you dare land, Din Djarin.” The N1 was getting lower still as she spoke. “I mean it. You have planets to save. People to meet and-” The exhaust of the starfighter sent her hair every which way, her face scrunching up against the gust. “What was I thinking you would do, I don’t know?” The last words were mumbled into Din’s chest plate, his arms pulling her into him as soon as he was back on the ground. (Exclamation of surprise)

“Are you….?” His voice was barely above a whisper, his modulator popping with the lack of sound behind it.

She nodded into his beskar. “Yaihadla.”

“As much as I love you speaking Mando’a, just give it to me in Basic. My brain isn’t working properly right now-”

She tilted her head back to look up into his visor, her voice soft. “I’m pregnant, Din.” Her eyes scanned over his helmet, searching for purchase. “You’re gonna be a dad, Djarin.” Grogu squealed from the cockpit of the N1, pulling her eyes over toward the tiny green ward, and a smile up her face. “Well, again. You’ll be a dad, again.”

Din froze for a moment before reaching up and ripping his helmet off, immediately pulling her into a searing kiss. Her muffled sounds of surprise melted away after just a moment, her arms coming up around his neck to pull him closer still, and causing his lips to pull up into a smile against her own. Finally breaking the kiss, he leaned his forehead against hers, both of them breathing heavily.

“Careful,” she teased, “that’s how we got into this situation in the first place.”

Din just shook his head in amusement at her, chuckling, and never removing his forehead from hers. Looking up through his lashes, he found her already doing the same to him. “Hi,” he muttered quietly.

“Hi,” she replied on a breath, making his smile pull higher still. “Osik,” she continued on a breath, going on when he cocked his head to the side, pulling back just slightly. “I really hope they get your smile.” (“Shit.”)

Xxx

Everything Tags: @lam-ila @oliviajdjarin @peonyophelia @itsavicf @jxvipike @momc95 @babygirlrex0504 @harriedandharassed @burningfieldof-clover @theclassicvinyldragon What’s This?

#din x reader #din djarin x reader #din djarin fanfiction #star wars imagine #star wars reader insert #mando x reader #mando x you #mando x y/n #din x you #din x y/n #din djarin x you #din djarin x y/n #star wars x reader #star wars x you #star wars x y/n #din imagine #din djarin imagine #mando reader insert #the mandalorian #star wars #din djarin #mando #grogu #grogu x reader #the mandalorian reader insert #the mandalorian imagine #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian x y/n

[decembermidnight]

Bad Attitude

Summary: While on patrol duty, you chase a suspect starship but end up crashing on a freezing planet. Its pilot, a Mandalorian, rescues you, but he doesn't like your attitude towards him and makes sure you understand who is in charge.

Pairing: Din Djarin x f!reader

Word count: 6.1k

Warnings: smut, 18+ mdni, teasing, dom!din, brat!reader, brat tamer!din, Din is really an asshole here lol, improper use of the darksaber, lots of dirty talk, oral (m receiving), breath play, choking, fingering, unprotected sex, exhibitionism, degradation kink, praise kink, creampie

A/N: Loosely based on The Passenger episode and super canon divergent. I just had fun having nasty thoughts! Reblogs and comments are always welcome!! Hope you enjoy it!

Divider: @saradika-graphics

Masterlist - Read on Ao3

You… You really did have to follow that ship on this forsaken planet, didn't you?

You couldn't just listen to your partner Carson for once when he warned you to let it go.

Chasing that Razor Crest despite the bad weather on Maldo Kreis was not the smartest idea. Not smart at all, in fact. 

You were only supposed to ask the pilot why his ship was in the proximity of that prison, Bothan-5, when that officer was killed, but he ran away as soon as he heard that name. You immediately started recklessly chasing that old piece of junk in the hostile atmosphere of this awful, unwelcoming planet, and next thing you know your Starfighter crashed, compromising the integrity of the hatch, you’re cut off from your partner and you’ll likely freeze to death before he can come rescue you. Could it get any worse?

It turns out it can.

Just when you switch the radio off, resigned to accept the unavoidable fate, your eyes seem to catch something dark in the snowstorm. At first you assume it’s just your mind playing tricks on you, but when you take a better look, you see it - there’s a dark figure approaching your ship. It must be him - the Razor Crest pilot. As he gets closer, you notice he’s wearing armour, a Mandalorian armour, and you’ve heard the stories about those deadly warriors. You probably made him angry with your insistent pursuit and now he might be killing you so as not to leave witnesses.

You are so fucked. This is the worst day of your life, and also the last.

He lifts the damaged hatch of your ship and looks at you, exposing you to the freezing air of the blizzard. You stare back at him - his broad figure completely towers over yours, but you try not to look intimidated by him.

"Razor Crest, is that you?" you say in a secure tone, wanting to appear tough.

"Yeah." the modulated voice answers as you feel his dark visor lingering on your figure.

"Came here to finish the job?" you try to sneakily grab your blaster in a desperate attempt to defend your life, determined not to die without fighting, or at least, not without trying. 

"Not if you don't try anything stupid like that. Put it down." says in an authoritative tone, his right hand instinctively goes on the holster of his blaster. You quickly realise this is not the moment for heroism if you want to survive. 

"Don't give me orders. I'm a New Republic officer." you reply firmly.

He scoffs and shakes his head in disdain.

"Dear officer, take a good look around. This frozen tomb doesn't look like New Republic territory to me." he goads you "Now quit it and let's go to my ship."

"Who says I want to come with you?"

"Come on, I’m freezing my ass off, for fuck’s sake." he loses no time in ripping your seatbelt and life support system off your body before grabbing you and carrying you over on his shoulder.

"Put me down! You're so rude!" you protest and try to kick him, but he blocks your legs in the tight grasp of his free arm, immobilising you.

"So far I've been more kind than you deserve. If you keep acting like that, I'll show you how rude I can be." his grip is firm and strong as he gives a warning squeeze to your thigh.

You do not want to admit it, but you feel a thrill of excitement at that - he doesn’t care about the fact that you're a law enforcer, he’s treating you like the scum he’s used to. He probably wants to trade your life for his freedom with Carson later - you’re his hostage now.

When you reach his ship, he finally puts you down. You take off your helmet and look at the Mandalorian that so unceremoniously saved you from certain death earlier.

You realise how much taller than you he is, his armour making him even broader than what he already is. Your eyes can't help lingering on his body in wonder at how strong he must be, how the shiny beskar perfectly completes his thick masculine figure, only adding to his already imposing stance, perfectly concealing his body, making him massive and statuesque. His suit is tight around the arms, you can see the outline of his thick, strong biceps. If only he wasn’t a criminal, if only you weren’t a New Republic officer, if only he wasn’t a complete cunt…

"You done?" a low, baritonal voice interrupts your dirty thoughts.

"Excuse me?" you raise a brow.

"I asked if you're done checking me out."

“What?! I wasn’t-” you lie and you both know it. You do not feel so cold anymore, your cheeks feel hot all of a sudden.

“Yeah. Sure.” the asshole teases as he rests against the wall of his ship, looking at you with crossed arms.

“You hurt?” he then asks.

“No, I’m fine.”

"Good. Let's go up to the cockpit, then. It's warmer up there." 

He climbs up the ladder and when the door closes behind him, you take a deep breath, trying to collect yourself, and follow him. 

When you get in the small room, you find him sitting in the pilot chair facing the windshield with crossed arms and legs spread wide. You settle on his side, standing with crossed arms and gaze fixed on his body. He’s as still and silent as a statue, unreadable under that helmet - is he really relaxed as he wants you to think, or is he carefully studying you? 

"Don't look at me that way." says without moving a muscle.

"How?"

"Same way you've been looking at me since we got on the ship."

"What are you implying?"

"Don't act like you don't know." he turns towards you and stands up, making you imperceptibly startle. He looks imposing and menacing, his helmet slightly tilted observing you.

"You don't trust me one bit, do you?" he scoffs and shakes his head.

"You assaulted that prison and killed that poor man. He was a New Republic officer, just like me. Why should I trust you?”

“Because I didn’t do it.”

“Why should I believe you?”

“What will you do when you find out I was right all along?” the way he doesn’t lose his cool is fascinating, to a degree.

"You’re not. If you were innocent, you wouldn’t have run away and we wouldn't be here now."

He tilts his helmet to the side once again as he looks at you. His gaze and his confidence make you feel hot and uncomfortable at the same time - you wouldn’t want to give out the undeniable way his stoic charm is affecting you, but you hate the way he's been treating you.

"Yeah, we wouldn't be here." he lets out in an allusive tone as he walks one single step forward while you take one back, ending up against the wall. He's so damn tall and broad and… and you're getting so wet. 

You look into his dark visor, feeling his gaze lingering on your body. You can feel the tension, the atmosphere in the cockpit becoming unbearable. It's getting hard to breathe, heat radiating from both of your bodies as you never stop looking at each other. While his sight is unreadable, yours is unmistakably libidinous, your heart pounding in your chest and your pussy throbbing with need, but you're both too proud to surrender first.

"I guess not. You coward." you let out in a far too flirtatious way as you look at him with shameless lust.

"What did you just call me?!" he rasps, sounding so provocative. 

"Coward. That's what you are. Running away from me when I was chasing you and taking me hostage when I was so vulnerable.”

“Shut up.”

“So big and tough in your shiny armour, but you run away as soon as you see a New Republic patrol. I should have just shot you when I had the chance. At least I wouldn’t be sharing this ship with a coward.”

“I said shut up.” 

“What now, Mandalorian? What do you plan to do now that you've kidnapped me? Are you gonna prove me wrong?" you’re wondering if you got too far when he gets dangerously close to you, his menacing figure towering over yours as he grips a handful of your hair, forcing your gaze into his dark visor.

"Do I have to stick my cock in your mouth to make you shut up?"

A flame of lust instantly traverses your body. You feel your blood boiling, making you feel hot and flustered, reason and common sense leaving you at the mercy of a primal, carnal instinct.

"I bet you don't have the balls to do it." you goad him with a smirk on your face.

Oh, you shouldn't have said that, yet you did, and what's worse is that you don't regret it. 

You look at him with shameless desire clouding your eyes, internally cursing at the helmet that can't and won't let you see his reaction to your provocation, waiting for his next move.

You keep your lustful gaze locked on his visor as his hand swiftly unfastens his belt and the zip of his pants. His grip on your hair tightens even more as he pushes you on your knees, immediately sticking his hard, thick cock in your mouth and fuck, the sound he makes. It's worth crashing on a desolated planet and being scolded afterwards. It's guttural and desperate, astonished at how good your poisonous mouth feels when you take him in and your tongue gently swirls around his tip, instead of spitting mean words at him. You keep eye contact as you let the shaft slide in your mouth and coat it generously in your saliva, his head tilted back as he lets out breathy sighs of pleasure.

"You. You need to learn how to fucking behave. Shut up when I tell you to. You have to stop taunting me. Fuck. Is this what you wanted?" 

He takes your head away from his cock to let you answer.

“You’re not as much of a coward as I thought you were.” you tease.

“You are still talking?!” exclaims as he pushes your head towards his cock once again, staying still as he uses your mouth for his pleasure, violently forcing all of his length down your throat. When he rips you away from it, you gasp for breath.

"You look so good like this. On your knees, choking on my cock, finally shutting the fuck up like a good girl." he growls, pleased.

Just as you want more of it, your mouth going towards it once again, his grip on your hair turns to steel and stops you there. You look up to him from your kneeled position and see him shaking his head.

“Why? Are you close already?” you taunt him as he tucks his cock back in his pants.

"Oh, it will take you way more than that to make me come, officer." says as he makes you stand up.

“Bet you want me to prove you wrong so badly. Bet you want to come in my m-” you stop mid sentence as he starts to unzip your flight suit while he pushes you towards the control panel of his ship, making you sit on it and trapping you there with his beskar body, your legs instinctively spread open for him to fit between them.

“Yeah? Go on. What were you saying?” he goads you as his hand slips inside of the thin pants you're wearing under the suit, teasing your clit from outside your underwear.

“I-I was s-saying that - that-” you gasp when his hand finds its way into your panties and reaches your slit.

"Ooh, what do we have here?" exclaims in taunting wonder. His beskar helmet is only a few centimetres distant from your face "Acting all cocky and arrogant before, but damn, feel how wet you are. Bet no one ever made you this wet, officer. Stars, you're dripping for me. All of this just from sucking my cock?" says in a husky voice as two of his thick, gloved fingers slide inside of you.

You grit your teeth in a desperate attempt to hide the way this is making you feel, not wanting to give him satisfaction, but your body is slowly surrendering to him and betraying you, your cunt involuntarily clamping around his fingers, revealing how his words are, in fact, effective on you.

"Oh, I bet you feel so good and you sound so sweet when you moan for me. Feel how hot and tight you are." he keeps teasing you. 

Resisting him is getting near impossible. By now he knows how badly you want it.

"Listen to what we’re gonna do now. You're gonna come on my fingers like a good girl and then I'll fuck you until your partner comes to rescue you."

You can't help it anymore and let out a moan at how sensual his voice sounds as he says those things to you, at the thought of getting fucked by him, all while his fingers keep sliding inside and outside of you, making your cunt spasm around them.

"Oh, I knew it. Damn, such a sweet girl." he rasps as he takes his fingers out.

"What the fuck?!" you snap at him when he does, making him chuckle at your reaction.

"Hey, calm down officer." he teases your lips with his gloved fingers soaked in your arousal. 

You instinctively suck the leather and taste yourself on his fingers, licking them sensually as you look at him in the visor. He hums in pleasure seeing that and goes on playing with your mouth, entranced by the way your tongue swirls around them, until he takes them out and presses his middle finger on your bottom lip.

"Bite." he simply orders and you obey, taking the hem of his glove between your teeth to let his hand slip out of the glove. It's huge compared to yours, callous and veiny and masculine. You hum as it starts trailing down your body and feel the warm trail it leaves on the delicate skin of your neck as he caresses it, your own hands holding tight to the commands of the ship, propping you up to offer yourself to his touch. You can feel his eyes looking at your body from behind the dark visor as his hand slips in your flight suit once again, groping your breast from outside your shirt, his thumb playing with one of your hardened nipples, your back arched and chest puffed out to make it look fuller. You moan loudly when he slides his fingers in your panties and back inside of you. 

"Stars - so fucking wet. I bet your cunt is so beautiful. Spread your legs for me. You're making me so fucking hard." he keeps up the pace and also starts to rub your clit with his thumb, making the pleasure you’re feeling unable to hide and you surrender to him, panting heavily as your eyes cross and roll in delight.

"Really? Eyes rolling, officer?" he taunts you.

"F-fuck y-you-" you rasp with half closed eyes, your sentence gets interrupted as he hooks his fingers, touching something devastating inside of you, making him scoff when he sees the way you squeeze your eyes shut and arch your back, your mouth wide open to let out obscene moans.

"What? Do you want me to stop?" he provokes you.

"Don't you fucking dare." you manage to let out in a barely audible sigh.

He immediately grabs your neck, not liking the way you undermine his authority.

"Careful now, officer." he growls.

You moan back in response at how much you like this - being put back into place, the Mandlaorian reminding you who is in control. You hold tight to his sides, digging your nails in his flight suit as he just pushes you further against the control panel with his body.

You’re a panting mess and you feel so close, so damn close to your orgasm. You beg he won’t stop as you wrap your legs around him. He feels by the irregular, ragged way you're breathing and the way your muscles go rigid around him that you're close.

"What? Coming already?” he chuckles “I will let you just because I want to fuck you so badly. Now come, my dear officer. Come for me."

You pant straight into his helmet when you hear him calling you like that, fogging it where his mouth would be. His hand pushes you over the edge and you moan loudly as he makes you come around his fingers, your hands holding tight to his neck, bringing him down towards you. Your back arches, chest rubbing against his armour and you roll your head back until it hits the transparisteel of the windshield behind you. Your nails scratch him hard and your legs’ grip becomes even tighter, his upper body now trapped in your grasp.

He grabs your chin with his other hand and forces you to look at him in the visor.

"Yes - yes, yes. Like this. Good girl." he growls between his teeth, looking at you as you struggle to keep your gaze on him, your eyes wanting to roll up in pleasure.

He lets you ride your high, never stopping those astounding moves of his hand, making you feel so satisfied, but so guilty and humiliated at the same time.

As the orgasm gradually fades out, your grip on his body loosens.

He takes out his hand right in front of your eyes and, Maker, it's soaking wet, glistening in your arousal. You’re both embarrassed and aroused when you see how wet and yielding you got for him as soon as he started touching you. 

"Damn, officer. How am I going to-"

You don't even let him finish, you've taken his hand in yours and start sucking his fingers. He lets out a satisfied hum when you do that. You clean them thoroughly, sensually massaging his digits with your tongue, humming as you hear him cursing between his teeth in a foreign language.

Once he’s satisfied, he takes them out of your avid mouth.

"Now strip for me, officer. I bet you look so hot under that uniform."

"Forget it." you tease him.

"Too bad you didn't obey me when I asked so nicely."

In an instant his hands start ripping the flight suit off your body as you're kicking out of your boots at the same time. It's rushed, brutal and wild, the both of you completely taken over by lust. His hands linger on your sides, giving you goosebumps and making you sigh when he lifts the thermal shirt off your body and you hold on tight to the panel when he hooks his fingers in the hem of your pants and pulls everything down and away from your body, leaving you completely naked in front of him.

“You look… Good without your uniform on, officer.” he is pleased looking at your naked body. “Wonder if I could say the same about you, Mandalorian.” “You’ll have to use your imagination."

“Are you even a real Mandalorian? Maybe you stole this armour, or maybe you bought it off some Jawas.” you mock him.

"Come here and I’ll show you." he simply says as he sits back on his chair, legs spread wide and a visible bulge in his pants.

Just as you get close to him, he takes out one of his weapons, a strange sword without a blade, and begins to trace your nipple with the hilt. You start to breathe heavily and you can feel your nipple getting harder by the second, your eyes carefully following his movements as he descends ever so slowly, teasing you, trailing your stomach and then your lower belly, stopping right in front of your cunt, driving you crazy, your legs spreading for him, begging for some friction. He softly brushes your lips, carefully avoiding your clit to tease you further, until he finally touches it. The sudden contact of the hilt with your sensitive clit makes you shudder and let out a whimper.

"Don't. Move." he orders as he continues to touch you with that weapon, rubbing it against your clit, producing obscene, wet sounds at the contact. You try to stay as still as you can as he plays with that dangerous weapon so close to your most delicate spot. You beg he'd go faster, you wish you could ride it and come all over it, as pathetic as it sounds, but no, he doesn't want that. He wants to take his time to tease you, getting you nice and wet as he plays with you like you're his toy.

He stands up, towering over you.

"Stick your tongue out."

You immediately do and he starts to trace your mouth with the hilt.

"This is the Darksaber. Whoever wields it can rule all of Mandalore, and you're licking it after I've used it to give you pleasure. Feel how wet you’ve made it. How does that make you feel?"

“Like you should sit down on that chair and take out that cock. Touch yourself while I lick your Darksaber clean, Mandalorian.”

He grunts as you push him back on his chair. He immediately unzips his pants to take his throbbing cock out as you keep licking his weapon clean, pleased at the sight of his erection in his hand.

"Touch yourself for me, Mando" you order him as you trace your tongue on the hilt.

"Enough of that." he grabs you by the hair and pushes you on your knees, forcing you to suck his cock. In a swift movement he grabs the Darksaber with his two hands, using it as leverage to keep your head down, forcing his entire cock into your throat, making you startle at the sudden lack of air.

"You don't get to give me orders." he growls before freeing you from his grasp to let you breathe. You gasp for air and look at him, panting.

Maker, he's so dangerous. He could kill you in one second if he wanted to, and you've never, never been wetter than this, playing this dangerous, twisted game with a deadly warrior.

He gives you a few seconds to breathe and then he's back at it, using his weapon to make you choke on his cock.

"Do you understand? I can do whatever I want to you." he releases you once again. There are tears in the corner of your eyes but that doesn't stop him from doing that one more time.

"You're so fucking pretty, but you also need someone to tame you. You've found the right man. Is that what you were looking for, officer? Someone to tame that bad temper?" he says and releases you one more time. You gasp for air as one tear sheds down your cheek.

"Come here. I'll fuck that bad attitude out of you." he orders as he puts the Darksaber away.

This. This is what you've always been craving, what you always wanted.

You slowly rise from the cold floor, your hands on his thighs as you can't stop looking at each other with longing desire. You straddle him, shaking in anticipation as you sink on his body guided by his hands on your hips, letting his cock slowly slide inside of you. The both of you moan as his cock splits you open for him, making him feel how hot and welcoming you are. You both let out a long, satisfied sigh, his voice is dark and sensual and you spasm around his throbbing cock, heavily aroused to finally have him inside of you.

“Mando, let me see if you're only good with words now."

“Din. I want to hear you screaming my name when I’ll make you come on my cock, officer.”

“You’re pretty confident in your abilities, Mandalorian.”

“Your mouth might say otherwise, but your body agrees with me.” he's so arrogant and full of himself, his confidence is making you wet.

“It does” you concede “you feel good, Din.” you purr in his neck, and he grunts when he hears how sweet your voice can be as you whisper his name while you have his cock buried inside of you. You start riding him slowly, looking at him in the visor as you feel every ridge and vein of his cock, enjoying every single moment of it, letting him almost slip out, only to let him back inside of you. He lets out sighs of satisfaction that drive you insane and only want to make you increase your rhythm but no, not yet, you want to make him pay for the way he's been treating you.

“If I had known my cock would have been enough to tame your bad temper, I’d have fucked you earlier.”

“What about yours, Din? What should I do about you being an asshole to me?” you say as you pull him out of you, making him grunt.

“Fuck. Put it back in.” 

“Not so fast. I want you to behave. Beg for it.” 

“You know I could just take you anytime I want, right?” “I do. But where would the fun be?”

He hums in pleasure as you take his drenched cock in your hand and start to slowly stroke it right in front of your cunt, moaning in his neck just to get him even more aroused.

“Fuck. You’re good at this.” he whimpers.

You start to slide it between your folds, the both of you moaning in arousal.

“Dank Farrik, d-do you want me to die?” he growls, subjugated by your teasing. “I want you to behave.” you whisper in a heady groan as you keep rolling your hips and rubbing your pussy on his cock. “F-fuck. I want to be inside of you so badly.”

“Say it.”

He sighs and pauses, taking a good look at the tip of his cock teasing your entrance.

“Please.” 

“Please what?” you ask, biting your lip in pleasure.

“Please put my cock back inside of you, officer.” there's a hint of annoyance in his voice when he surrenders and sees your satisfied smirk.

“Good.” you whisper gasping against his helmet as you slowly slide his cock deep back inside of you. 

That’s the moment when he digs his fingers in your hips and starts jackhammering you, making you scream as he said he would, your hands clawing on his shoulders.

“Who do you think you are? Do you think you can taunt me? I’m a Mandalorian. A bounty hunter. Bet you’ve never been fucked so good, officer. I’m gonna give you this cock so hard, you’ll never forget about me. You’ll be touching yourself thinking about me for the rest of your life. Thinking about the Mandalorian Din Djarin who fucked your brains out on Maldo Kreis.”

The way he's fucking hard and rough into you as he says those things in an angry, husky voice is pleasurably devastating and addicting, having you moan frantically as your body is held still by his strong hands.

"Oh, fuck, Din, don't stop. Don't stop!" you let out in a desperate cry.

"Do you want to come on my cock, officer? Let me hear it. I want to hear you beg for it."

"Please, please Din, make me come on your cock." you drawl, subjugated by lust.

"Mmm - you sound so hot when you beg for me. Keep going and I won't stop."

"Please! I've never been fucked like this, Din." your heart is racing, your breathing is getting laboured and feel the orgasm approaching “I'm so close, Din, so fucking close. Please, don’t stop."

"Come, officer. Keep riding my cock and come on it. I want to hear you scream my name." 

"Oh, Din!" you scream his name as the overwhelming force of the orgasm washes over you, a white blaze of bliss making you lose control, uncontrollably spasming and sensually moaning as he doesn't stop giving it to you, groaning in pleasure when he feels how tight and wet you get around him when you come on his dick.

"That's it. That's my good girl." he grunts as he lets you ride your orgasm.

His rhythm slows down as you come back from your high, his hands still firmly on your hips, guiding you, making you slowly grind your pussy against his cock, the cockpit full of your pants.

"Ready for round two, officer?"

He doesn’t even wait for your response, your mind still fogged by the astonishing orgasm he just gave you.

He gets up from the chair and in a second he turns you around, your body slammed against the control panel and the windshield, your wrists held up high by his hand. Your legs are shaking and you can't really seem to stand on your feet properly.

You couldn't possibly be ready for him slamming his dick inside of you all at once, so hard that air leaves your lungs in an exhale. You'd curse at him, but you can't articulate words as he is fucking you so violently, his strong hand on your hip keeping you still. If you thought he was fucking you hard earlier, it's nothing compared to now - feeling all the power of his body giving it to you wild and raw is pleasurably devastating. You couldn't possibly have imagined that what he gave you earlier was merely foreplay for him, just a little tease before making sure you knew who is really in charge and how hard he can fuck you. He was just letting you have a small taste of what would happen after, wanting you to get ready for him, nice and wet and stretched open for his thick cock to split you in half. He grabs a fistful of your hair and you feel his helmet close to your ear.

"What? You're out of breath already? I'm just getting started, officer." he slides it out almost completely and slams it back in so hard you roll your eyes in pleasure.

"Look at you. Loving this dick so much you're rolling your eyes. Gonna fuck you so hard, you'll learn how to fucking behave." 

You can't do anything besides taking his cock and letting out choked moans.

"Still regret being stuck here with me? Tell me. Do you still think I'm a coward?" he growls in between thrusts.

You can barely drawl a moan in response and he chuckles.

"Yeah, I don't think so. You can't even speak." he mocks you as he pounds into you harder and harder, devastating you, reducing you to a pathetic, moaning mess.

"Who knows if the snow storm has stopped and your partner is looking for you. What if he sees you getting fucked like this?"

You know it's wrong, but the thought turns you on so much that you clench around him, and he feels it.

"Oh, you'd like it? Officer, what do we have here? A little whore?" you hear his dark chuckle as he grips your throat with his hand, bringing you closer to him - the hot, naked skin of your back against his cold beskar armour as he never stops railing you. 

Getting called like that in other circumstances, by any other person in the galaxy, would have caused you to shoot them immediately, but now, oh, did that turn you on.

"You like being called that way, don't you? Whore." he whispers softly in your ear, and it drives you insane despite how much you're trying to hide it. He feels your body getting rigid, the vibrations of your throat choking a moan, the way you bite your lip trying not to let one sound out, and you can bet he's loving every second of it. 

His other hand starts to rub your clit and that's when you fucking lose it - your mouth opens wide and lets out a loud groan of pleasure.

"Tell me you're my whore and I'll give you the best orgasm of your life."

You hesitate - his request is so degrading, but you want it at the same time. He can sense your indecisiveness and stops drawing circles on your clit and starts going around it, carefully avoiding it.

"N-no. Don't stop. It's unfair!" you whimper.

"Say it."

You try to relieve the ache between your legs by bringing a hand there, but he is quick to stop you and block your wrist behind your back, immobilising you as if you were one of his bounties, getting you even more aroused, so much, in fact, that you let out another groan.

"Don't make me handcuff you." he growls sensually and you immediately picture him fighting criminals every day, used to manhandling thugs and being a badass and you get even more aroused at the thought, and decide to give him whatever he wants.

You mumble those words, barely audible, ashamed but at the same time yielding, desperately and pathetically wanting him to give you what you so achingly crave, in a way that only he can provide. A need that you never even realised existed before he brought you into the highest dimension of pleasure.

"What? I didn't hear you."

"I am your whore." you whisper, annihilated.

"Good girl. Say it again. Louder this time."

"I am your whore, Din! Please, please make me come like this!" you surrender to him completely, defeated by your very body refusing to let this slip away.

"That's my girl. You asked so nicely, I'm gonna give it to you." you hear the satisfaction in his voice as he immediately starts to rub your clit again, driving you close to the edge in no time, your cunt getting tighter in anticipation.

“Shit, I want to come inside of you. I'm so fucking close, officer. You’re gonna patrol the outer rim, flying your Starfighter while my cum drips down your beautiful cunt. You’re gonna feel that and you will think of me the entire time.” he rasps in your ear as you feel his body pushing you further into the transparisteel and then over the edge, making you come screaming his name once again rolling your eyes over your lids, desperately begging him to come inside of you.

His groans get louder and louder as he comes. You feel his is cock pulsing and twitching, thrusting into you, wanting to go as deep as it can go, filling you with his hot release as you clamp erratically around him.

Both of your bodies are spent as you come back from your high, the sound of your laboured breathing fills the cockpit.

"Hey" he pants "keep it inside now. I don't want to see a single drop going to waste. Are we clear?"

You nod and he slips out of you slowly as you obey his order, keeping his release inside of you as you get dressed, feeling it drip between your legs as he walks you back to your ship.

Carson is already there - he has fixed the minor damages your X-wing had sustained when you crashed in the snow, confident in the fact that you found shelter somewhere and that you’re safe and will be back soon.

What he did not expect is for you to show up with the Mandalorian by your side, though.

"Can I have a few words with you?" he asks with a raised brow.

You nod and walk a few steps away from Din, going behind your ship to have some privacy.

"He saved my life." you regretfully admit before he even has a chance to speak, expecting a scolding.

"Listen. I run the tabs on the Razor Crest. It seems like your new friend has an arrest warrant on him for the abduction of a prisoner." he pauses briefly and lets out a sigh "But he has also captured three wanted culprits and tried to save the Lieutenant's life."

"I'd say we let him go this time. I really don't want to file a report about what happened. I hate doing that."

"Is that so?" he asks sarcastically.

"These are trying times, come on."

Carson raises his brow once again, looking at you and then at the armoured menace standing a few steps away from him.

“Fine.” he shrugs, not wanting to dig deeper with regards to your change of mind towards the Mandalorian, then gets back to his ship.

You jump in your X-wing, but before closing the hatch and taking off, you address Din one more time.

"We're even now, Din Djarin. See you next time, and don't get caught."

#din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin smut #din djarin x female reader #din djarin x you #din x reader #mandalorian fanfic #mandalorian smut #mando x you #mando smut #mando x reader #mando #din djarin fanfiction #din x you #din x f!reader #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x you #mandalorian x female character #mandalorian x female reader #oneshot #star wars smut #smut #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal #pedro pascal smut #din djarin x reader

[ariundercovers]

Clean (Din Djarin x Reader)

Summary: You ask Din if you can clean his beskar for him. Fluffy thoughts ensue.

Pairing: Din Djarin x Reader (no gender descriptors used in this one!)

Word count: ~1k

Warnings: fluff, more fluff, marshmallows, and feely good feelings. Maybe 1/2 of a second of lite angst at the end.

a/n: this is a snippet of the beginning of a longer fic I’ve been working on that im too chicken poo to post yet. So, in the meantime, enjoy some brief din fluff.

When you step out of the refresher, reality comes back to you quickly as you struggle to towel yourself off in the cramped space. You’ve pulled on a pair of pants and a too-big shirt: muscles and sore skin aching for the comfort of some loungewear after such a long hunt. You exit to grab your comb from behind the door and watch as Din moves toward you to head into the fresher himself. Without thinking you stop him, hand placed gently on the dirtied beskar pauldron on his shoulder. He looks back at you, helmet tilted slightly, questioning.

You blink a few times before your brain catches up with your body. “Would you let me clean your armor for you while you’re in there?” You immediately realize how forward that sounds and you backtrack quickly. “If that's a Creed no-go, it’s okay, but I figured I would at least offer. Then you don’t have to sulk down here by yourself for an additional half-hour on top of everything else.”

His helmet stared back at you, unmoving. You imagine him blinking beneath it and immediately you scold yourself for allowing your mind to trail off that way.

His voice is low through the modulator when he finally responds.

“No, it’s… that would be okay.” You nod.

“Okay. I’ll head up to the cockpit for now and you can just leave everything outside the door. I’ll come down in a few.” His helmet nods downwards at you and you turn, heading up the ladder as you make your way to the co-pilot’s chair.

You lose yourself to your thoughts for a while, before you hear a change in the water falling in the refresher, indicating that your Mandalorian had finally stepped in. You slowly made your way back down the ladder and face the pile of dull armor carefully arranged in front of the door. The visor of his helmet looked back at you from where it sat, making your chest feel uneasy - like you were looking at Din’s beheaded remains. 

As the discomfort settled over you and eventually dissipated, you realized that you couldn’t even picture what your Mandalorian might look like beneath the helmet. Of course, he was human, but you had no sense for him. Was he young? Old? You caught glimpses of his tanned skin when you helped him swap out a particularly dirty cape, but they were fleeting enough moments that your eyes didn’t have the chance to linger. His persona was grumpy enough - you had to peg him as late 30s or 40s so - but again, you really had no way to definitively tell. What color was his hair? His eyes? Did he shave? So many questions were swirling around in your brain frantically, and it quickly started to feelk, like a betrayal to him in the way you reeled over what he looked like.

“Kriff, alright…” you spoke aloud to yourself, trying desperately to silence your thoughts and figure out how to mentally behave once more. You pick up his helmet and head over to the cargo hold where you kept various towels and cleaning supplies. Taking out the bottle of metal polish that you had seen Din walking around with previously along with a stack of old rags, you sat down and got to work. 

It didn’t go particularly quickly, but you liked the monotony of scrubbing down each part, drying it off, spreading on some of the polish, and then buffing it out. Quickly, the helmet you held in your hands was back to its beautiful inky silver luster and you felt a smile creep onto your cheeks. 

This was your Mandalorian. This shiny, beautiful, dazzling, sparkling hunk of metal staring back at you from your lap. You stood, holding the helmet timidly in your hands, turning it over a few times to admire its craftsmanship. You’ve never paid attention to it this close, and you make note of the lack of any kind of scratch or dent in the perfectly chromed beskar. It was amazing, really, considering all he had been through since you started traveling with him, let alone since he put on the helmet.

You walk back over to the pile and place the helmet down carefully, picking up two more pieces of armor and repeating the process. You clean them, polish them, and then turn them over and over in your hands, casually appreciating the power of each piece, reveling in the knowledge that these hunks of shiny metal had saved the life of your Mandalorian time and time again. 

After switching out clean for dirty a few more times, you step back and take a look at the full pile of newly polished beskar in front of you. It really is a beautiful material, you note to yourself, keeping a close eye on the way it reflects the dim interiors of the Razor Crest back at you. You hear the water stream shut off from behind the refresher door and instinctively call out to him.

“Din?” You’re not sure what you’re waiting for, realizing that you just tried to make verbal contact with him, sans helmet. That had to be against the Creed, right? “I, uh… finished everything. It’s just outside the door, with a clean flight suit. I’m gonna head up to the cockpit now.” You turn, scuttling towards the ladder as quickly as possible, embarrassed at yourself for not thinking before speaking. 

You should’ve just left it and gone - he would’ve known that you’d shuffle your way out of the space as soon as possible after you were finished. 

Idiot, you think to yourself.

As you’re planting your right foot on the first rung of the ladder and tensing your muscles to hoist you up to the next, you hear a distinctly un-modulated baritone voice respond from behind the door and it steals the very breath from your lungs. 

“Thank you.”

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x y/n #din x you #din dijarin fanfiction #din djarin #the mandalorian #writing #fanfic

[moon-sang]

ᴋʟᴜᴛᴢ ~ 𝔻𝕚𝕟 𝔻𝕛𝕒𝕣𝕚𝕟 𝕩 ℝ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣

(gif does not belong to me)

REQUEST: Reader goes to grab food and essentials with grogu while mando is out. Reader accidentally trips and scraped her knees (deep wound of some sort) and in the midst breaks grogu’s fall. Reader is hesitant to tell mando what happened but quickly realizes soon after (reader probably showing signs of hurt, limping etc). Fluff and comfort.

SUMMARY: You had always been a klutz... but this one fall may just change the relationship you have with Din.

WARNINGS: Fluff, angst, Soft!Din, fem!reader, description of wound, mature language, pls tell me if I miss anything!

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

It’s not your fault.

It’s not your fault you were born such a klutz.

It’s not your fault you ran out of food on the Crest.

It’s not your fault you had to go out and get more supplies, whilst Din was on a hunt.

It’s not your fault a stone got caught in between your feet.

It’s not your fault you fell, and took most of the impact to protect Grogu. 

......Except... it was.

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

The burning hot air of Nevarro attacked the new scrape on your knee, pulling a hiss out of you. Kriffing rock, getting in the way of your walking! The child cooed in your arms as you limped your way over to the Crest. You didn’t even want to look at it. You could just feel how deep the wound was, you knew you would probably faint if you actually looked at it. 

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

After what seemed to be forever, you finally made it to the Crest. The familiar ship practically called you to it. 

“Now listen buddy.” You start. “I don’t want a peep out of you, we keep this a secret from Mando, yeah?!” All you get as a reply is a bunch of gurgles. A sigh makes it’s way to your face as you continue to hobble over to the hatch of the Crest. 

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

The inviting cool air of the Crest relieved some of the stinging on your knee, but not nearly enough. You groan in pain, and ghost your fingers over the sensitive skin. You should probably patch it up before Din get’s back. 

Your fingers curl around the handle to a drawer, and pull it open. Finally something to patch your wou-.... Where are the medkits? FUCK! You had to buy some of those as well! You forgot them when you tripped! You bang your head on the cold chrome coloured wall of the Crest. “This is just great” You practically yell. With a frustrated groan you flop onto your ‘bed.’ 

“Hey kid, you wouldn’t mind going to the markets for me would ya?” you joke, looking at the confused gremlin. A chuckle leaves your lips when he frantically shakes his head. “Didn’t think so.” you whisper. 

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

A few hours later Din arrived. The bounty was knocked out cold and most likely going to be put in carbonite. “Hey.” You greet, attempting to hide your wince and the pain in your voice. You get a nod in return, from the tin can. “How was the kid, cause any trouble?” You shake your head gently. “No, he was good for once.” he nods and turns to the kid, gurgling on the floor. “And what about Y/n? Did she hit her head, stub her toe, or trip anywhere?” He asks him. “Ha.Ha. Very funny.” You mock. Din was very familiar with your clumsiness by now. He’s seen it day after day, and the worst part about it is.... he finds it amusing. He chuckles at his own joke and makes his way to the cockpit. 

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

It wasn’t until much later Din called you to the cockpit. It was easy to say ‘one sec’ or ‘yea! I’m coming’ but it was easier said than done. Every step to the ladder felt like you were pulling weights tied to your feet. 

When you finally managed to get a hold of the ladder, it was like staring up at mount Everest. It looked so tall, how were you gonna make it up there, with your bad knee? “Y/n? You coming?” Din yells from the cockpit. “Yeah!” You yell back. You could do this. With a huff you step on one of the rungs of the ladder. The pressure on your bad leg pulled a hiss out of you, but you kept going. Step, and pull up, repeat, step and pull up, repeat. That’s all you needed to do. Why did it feel so hard? Finally, after what seemed to be forever, you made it to the cockpit. And why were you panting from climbing a kriffing ladder? 

“What’s up?” you grit out. “The kids been stressing out and crying, I don’t know what’s wrong with him, could you take h-” Din cuts himself off when he turns his seat to look at you. You cock your head at him in confusion. “You want me to take him?” You finish for him. “No.” he replies bluntly, placing the kid on the floor and standing up. “Din...what’s.. going on? What’s wrong?” You hesitantly ask. “You tell me.” came his modulated reply. “What?” You practically whisper. “Do you know how pale you look? Kriffing hell you’re even sweating!” He stresses. Your breath hitches. Was the.. wound.. infected? Kriff it did take a few hours for Din to get back, you were bleeding out for quite some time. Tears well in your eyes but you hold them back. Things were getting overwhelming for you, and..... was Din talking? Whatever he was saying, you couldn’t hear, things were muffled. Your head pounded and a searing hot pain went through your leg before your vision went completely black.

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

When you opened your eyes next, you were nested in Din’s bunk. You knew straight away because everything in there smelt like him. Beautiful. “Din?” You slur out, eyes closing again. “Shh, I’m here.” He hushes soothingly. You attempt to sit up, but you find Din gently, but firmly, pushing you back down. “No. Lay down. You need rest.” He orders. You groan in response. “My knee, woun-” You’re cut of by Din. “I dealt with it.” he whispers. You nod and a tense silence spills over the two of you. Finally, he talks. “Why didn’t you tell me?” He questions, a tiny amount of anger laced in his voice. “Didn’t want to.. distract you from the...kid. You respond, voice coaxed in sleepiness. Din sighs and slumps next to you on the bed, cradling your cheek in his bare hot hand. “How.. did you stitch...wound? We have.... no...medkits.” You slur yet again. “I had some spare in my drawer, you should’ve told me mesh’la.” He soothingly whispers, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Mm sorry” you whisper. He places a gentle kiss of your forehead, and quickly pulls his helmet back down. “Just tell me next time ok, You scared the kriffing shit out of me.” He chuckles. You giggle with him. “Ok.” 

Din pulls you closer to him and wraps and arm around you. You nuzzled into his warm chest... and just stayed like that for a moment, because... it was a strange routine the two of you had. Then there’s something crawling onto you. At first you think it’s a giant spider... but then.. an all too familiar cooing sound rings through the cot. You chuckle along with Din. “No buddy, we didn’t forget you, come on in.” You whisper as you and Din make a small space for him in between the two of you. Gleefully he jumps in, and you all snuggle in with each other. 

~ I hope you liked it!

#Din Djarin x reader #Mando x reader #Din x reader #Fluff #Din Djarin fluff #Mando fluff #The Mandalorian #The Mandalorian x reader #Mando x you #Din x you #Din Djarin x you #Mandalorian x you #Grogu #baby yoda #Mando x y/n #Din x y/n #Din Djarin x y/n #Mandalorian x y/n

[theywhowriteandknowthings]

Murder Daddy Kinktober 2023 Day 17 - Why do you run, only to let me catch you? Din Djarin x Reader

This blog is a 18+ space, Minors, do not engage. If you are under the age of 18 you are not welcome here. Please heed these warnings and the warnings put in place on each individual fic and chapter. Your reading and consumption of my work is your responsibility but I will endeavour to mitigate any discomfort for you, the reader, as possible. Once again, this is a 18+ space and minors should not interact.  Specific Warnings: PiV sex, unprotected sex, mutual pining, grogu being a sessy bitch, blood, addiction mentions, addiction, oral F&M recieving, Whiny Din Supremacy.

Graphics made by me Thank you again to @beefrobeefcal @clawdee and @pastelnap for beta-ing! Read on AO3 Please consider checking out my ko-fi or patreon if you want to support me.

Why do you run, only to let me catch you?

Your relationship – if you could even call it that – with Din Djarin is a complex one, and one you love to hate, or hate to love. It’s been too long now that those lines don’t really exist anymore. There’s a passion in your chest reserved only for him, but to call it love would be a disservice, what you shared with the most feared bounty hunter in the system is something much more than that.

But it’s been at least a Standard Year since you last caught a glimpse of polished Beskar, a sight that set your heart racing like a jump to light speed. You’d heard of his exploits alongside Bo-Katan , and that of his adopted son Din Grogu, and how the three of them took down Moff Gideon and reunited the Mandalorian people.

But, as much as hearing those feats make you somewhat proud of the Beskar clad menace, it only makes you yearn for him more. You’re lost in thought when the droid in front of you snaps you out of it.

“Miss?”

The chaotic roar of the casino comes back to you in a flash, you’d been deep in your own thought spiral you had cut out everything but the image of a silver-clad predator from your mind as you yearned for the thrill of the chase.

The table is looking at you expectantly as you realize you’d slipped off into a daydream, it was your hand. You study the purple skinned Twi’lek opposite you with a smirk, he’s hiding it well, but he’s panicking. You look back to your hand. You’re currently holding eight cards, between the minus 6 modifier and the rest, you’re sitting pretty at seventeen.

You could stand, and hope that your opponent goes bust but there’s no fun in playing this game safe. Especially when this is all the thrill you live for now that your cat and mouse days with Din Djarin are over.

You let your fingertips hover over your side deck, drawing out the moment as you eye up the ten-thousand credit pot on the table. You close your eyes, snatching the card from the deck and you can’t keep your poker face up when you draw a three.

The Twi’lek across from you swears and stands with such force it spills his Spotchka cocktail over the table and you quickly scoop up the credits, protecting your winnings from the hazy blue liquid. The casino hushes around you and you look up from your pile of riches to see what has everyone on edge.

Then you see him.

Shining Beskar, tattered, flowing black cloak, blaster on his hip as the lacquered black T of his visor bores into you. Your blood runs cold, then burns hotter than the binary suns when you see him. A broad smile stretches across your lips. You’re not dressed for a fight, nor a chase, with ridiculously high heels and a tight sequined, green bodycon dress that was not meant for running. Time seems to still as you drop the credits back on the table. The clink of metal-on-metal deafening in the otherwise silent casino.

Mando tilts his head to the side, just enough to issue the challenge. You take a deep breath, formulating your escape as you see him reach for his blaster.

I can take you in warm, or I can take you in cold.

Those first few words uttered to you as he had you pinned over the bar of a cantina on Tatooine replay in your head as you wink at the Beskar-clad menace. Heat pools in your core as you remember how it felt to be pinned by such a strong, confident man.

You kick off your heels, snatching them up before diving through the crowd. You’re sprinting through the main hall, bare feet slapping against the smooth flooring, making you slip and slide as you hear the unmistakable spur-like clink of metal on metal as Mando gives chase.

You barge through the chaos of Canto Bight, drinks fly as you blindly frisbee a tray at Mando, he bats it away with ease as he breaks into a run, forgoing the initial long, loping strides. You dash through the service entrance, following a waitress before the security door closes. The sound of Beskar pounding against Durasteel as Mando collides with the door has you grinning in premature triumph.

You slip through the halls, ducking confused looking waiters, a Bothan swearing at you as you make your way through to the back door. You break out into the neon-glare of the city and immediately slow your pace. You slip your heels back on and try to blend in with the denizens of Canto Bight.

The streets are packed, holographic screens of kids racing on Fathiers illuminate the facades of the various casinos and hotels. It’s a big race, you should know, you’ve got a lot of money on Skystrider tonight.

Maybe I’ll get lucky a second time tonight?

You think to yourself as you lament the credits you had left behind. You just know the Twi’lek you beat would have taken the winnings in the confusion.

But there was a bigger prize at stake now, one that you were determined to win.

“You’re a hard woman to find.”

Mando’s modulated voice growls from over your shoulder. You don’t react, keeping up your purposeful stride as you weave in and out of the throng of bodies. The clink of his suit loud in your ear, you can feel his presence behind you like a heavy weight on your back.

“Was starting to think you’d forgotten about me Mando, way to make a girl feel unwanted.”

You purr as you feel a gloved hand brush the small of your back, you stop abruptly, making Mando crash into your back and you cry out. You give your best performance, letting out a terrified wail that has people turning to look at the way you cower away from the Mandalorian.

“Help he’s assaulting me, please!”

You turn on the spot, clutching at your chest as you back away from him. Mando halts as his visor scans the now antagonistic crowd around him. You wink and poke out your tongue as a man steps between you.

“Hey, tin-can, leave the lady alone.”

“She’s quarry, get out of my way.”

The man looks over his shoulder at you and you give him the waterworks, eyes pleading as you fight to keep the smile off your face.

“Heard that excuse before, just because you’re some hot shot Mando doesn’t mean you can treat a lady like that.”

The other man squares up to Din and you almost hang around to watch the pissing match, but you know you must take every advantage you can get. You take a tentative step back, Mando’s visor tilting to watch your movements as the other man keeps blustering on about honor and some other chivalrous shit. You blow Mando a kiss as you slip your heels off again.

The world blurs around you as you sprint as fast as your legs can carry you, neon lights, steam from exhaust vents, people of all races and creeds whipping by as you feel your lungs burn and you step on something sharp, but the adrenaline keeps the pain at bay.

You hear blaster fire behind you and wince a little at the fact you might have just got an innocent man killed.

There are no innocent partygoers on Canto Bight.

You think to yourself as you reach the spaceport. Your entire body trembles from overexertion as you stumble into the hangar that houses your X-wing. Your definitely, legitimately sourced X-Wing, and definitely not the one you won from a Sabacc game with a gullible young pilot.

You chuckle to yourself at the memory, opening the cockpit of your fighter until you look around the hangar and see a Mandalorian Class Gauntlet in the next bay over.

That wasn’t there when I landed.

Your stomach drops and you hear a soft modulated huff from the hangar door. Your head snaps up and you see the silhouette of the bounty hunter illuminated by the vibrant, neon rainbow of light bleeding in from the street.

You throw your heels onto the floor and launch yourself into the pilot’s seat, you begin your pre-flight checks but none of the lights or displays come online. You sigh, laughing breathily as you realize he’s done something to immobilize your ship. You have no idea how he knew this was yours, you’re pretty sure it’s still registered under the name Antilles.

You let yourself catch your breath for a moment as the clink of Beskar grows louder with every step. You try to think of a way out of this, some distraction, or final gambit to worm your way out of his clutches, but it’s futile. You’re backed into a corner.

“Alright, you’ve got me. If I promise to be good, could you forgo the carbonite? I break out every time.”

“I’m not stupid, you’d just find a way out of your restraints and gut me in my sleep.”

You shrug, you can’t blame him for that, you did shank him in his sleep the last time you promised to be good when he caught you on Endor. You can still hear the howl of pain as you disappeared into the undergrowth as he pulled the vibroknife – his vibroknife – out of his thigh.

“Fine, but I’m not moving, you’re dragging me onto that ship. I winded myself with all that running, and I think I’ve lost a lot of blood.”

You babble as you look down at the crimson liquid pooling in your cockpit. You chuckle as you feel your head spin, fractals of light crack like shattering Transparisteel across your vision as you let your head loll back onto the headrest.

“What are you-?” Mando asks as he climbs the ladder attached to the cockpit, “Dank Farrik!” He swears as he hurries to pick you up. You laugh to yourself, bemused by the way he seems to care about whether you were hurt.

“Thought you could bring me in hot, or bring me in cold?” You slur as you wrap your arms drunkenly around Mando’s neck, leaning into the cool Beskar of his chest. You breathe in the scent of Beskar, oil, and something like citrus as your vision fades to black.

~*~

You blink awake to a brightly lit hold. You hiss as the white light burns into your eyes, the sound of air recyclers humming all around you a telltale sign you were on ship, likely out of atmosphere already.

“Kriff.”

You groan as you close your eyes, you guess you’re on Mando’s ship, the Gauntlet you saw in the hangar most likely. You take in slow, steadying breaths as you try and figure out your next move. A small gurgle from beside you has you rolling your head to the side, slowly opening your eyes to the sweet little face of the little green kid Mando drags across space with him.

“Kiddo!” You cry and the little guy lights up at the sound of your voice. His large pointy ears perk up and his mouth parts open in joy as he scurries over to you, hopping up on the cot with ease and burying himself in your side as he coos softly against your chest. You smile as you feel something thin and rectangular slip under you on the cot.

“Missed you too buddy, old man’s still dragging you around the galaxy with him?”

The kid hums in a positive affirmation as he babbles away. You get hints of intention from him, like ghosts of thoughts brushing against your mind as he “talks” away at you.

“Grogu?”

Din calls from the cockpit and you sit up in the cot, the impromptu reunion with your secret best friend cut short as you watch Din freeze in the doorway to the hold.

“Get away from him.” Din’s voice is impossibly low, even through the modulator. You’ve never heard him this pissed before.

“Hey, he was the one to instigate this mutinous friendship, not me!”

You frown at the Beskar menace and cross your arms over your chest, Grogu, as you have always known him, follows suit. He plops himself down on the cot next to you and crosses his tiny little arms across his chest before grunting unhappily at his guardian.

“What do you mean friendship?”

“How many times have you gotten me this far Mando, and left me alone in your ship while you slept or got supplies?”

“How should I-?”

“Twenty-seven times, twenty-eight if we count the time I had you tied up-.”

“Naboo doesn’t count.” Din hisses as he leans against the doorframe, crossing his arms so that you are all in some strange, mirrored standoff.

“Fine, but my point being, kiddo’s curious, and you’re a heavy sleeper.”

“I am not.”

“So, you don’t remember when we played Don’t wake the sleeping Nerf and covered you with forty-six different pieces of junk from around the ship, including the Darksaber?”

“What are you-?”

“Oh, kriff kiddo, he really did sleep through that.”

Grogu laughs, an angelic little sound that makes your cheeks burn with how much you’re smiling at him. Mando stands there, rage rolling off him in waves as he tries to figure out what to say.

“Hey, Mando?” You ask, your tone softer this time as you realize you’re more likely to push him away if you keep teasing him.

“What?”

“You ever figure out my real name?”

“Your real name? No. Why?”

“Just curious, you got my puck on you?”

“Of course.” He grumbles, as if it’s insulting for you to have even asked, before bringing up the holographic image of you. Four statements swirl around the image, and you smile as you read them off in your head.

Whyte Phantom – Thirty Thousand Credits – Exclusive contract.

The final statement is a name.

“Wanna see my identity card?” You ask rhetorically as you pull it up from the datapad the kid had slipped you before his dad came in. Din’s head tilts at the sight of it, before turning to look at Grogu who is pointedly looking anywhere but his dad.

Din grumbles something under his breath as he steps into the hold, head dipping low to read the datapad.

“But that’s? You’re?”

“I put the bounty on myself, yup.”

“Why?”

The question catches you off-guard, you don’t really know yourself, other than you thought it would be a way to ward off the crippling despair you felt every time you walked through the streets of Coruscant. To combat the loneliness in your soul that festers in the darkness of a post-Empire-pre-utopian galaxy. The galaxy that has war veterans dying of Spice addictions while places like Canto Bight prosper as if nothing ever changed.

You could say that, but you won’t, that would require inner strength you just don’t have. So, you quip instead.

“Thought it was kinda hot, having one of the most dangerous men in the galaxy chase me?”

You flash him a practiced, perfect smile and you wait for the anger to come, bracing yourself for violence or harsh words.

“Fine.”

The Mandalorian walks over to your cot and picks up Grogu, moving wordlessly as he scoops him up and takes him up into the cockpit. You curse to yourself quietly as you rub your tired eyes. You were so close to telling him the truth, revealing yourself to the most closed-off person in this damned galaxy.

You lie back down on the cot and take a look at your foot. You smile at the smooth skin, no doubt the kid has healed you with his magic little claws. You can almost hear the conversation between them, Grogu would have insisted on using the force to heal you, Din would have argued against it, you deserved to heal slowly for being such a brat.

You feel Grogu’s mind brush against yours and you get two clear feelings flash through in your mind, his dad, and the intention to speak.

I’ve got a bad feeling about this, kid.

You think back, pushing your intent towards the cockpit. Grogu simply responds with a second, stronger intention, talk to him.

You sigh to yourself as you feel his little brainwaves dim as he clearly drifts off to sleep. You rub your hands over your eyes and decide to look for the fresher, and some clean clothes.

~*~

An hour later you hover outside the cockpit door, trying to decide if you should go in or not. You’re about to press the call button when the door hisses open in front of you. Mando charges through, seemingly not noticing you until he’s crashing his chest plate against your nose.

“Son of a Wompa!” You cry out as you feel your nose pop, blood gushes down your face and onto the soft cotton shirt you’d fished out from the storage bins. You stumble backwards and feel yourself pitching backwards, your head spinning as you wait for the inevitable crash of your body on the metal grating.

But Mando saves you from the fall, pulling you up into a loose embrace as he stops you from hurting yourself further.

“Maker, you’re a menace.” He grumbles through the modulator as his hands linger on your biceps.

“Yeah, well maybe you should watch where you’re going.”

“Kriff, this was a mistake.”

Din growls as he releases you and turns to walk back into the cockpit. You curse inwardly as you catch his wrist before he can move.

“Wait,” You growl, guilt and frustration making your stomach turn, “Please, can we talk?”

Din looks over his shoulder at you, giving you the perfect view of the profile of his helmet. Not for the first time you wonder what he looks like under there.

“Fine.”

You expect him to pull out of your grip – which he does – but what you don’t expect is the way his gloved hand falls to rest between your shoulder blades, steering you back towards the cot. He expects you to sit but you gesture for him to take a seat instead. He sits up straight, broad hands splayed on his knees as he follows you with his visor as you pace in front of him.

“So, I put the bounty on my head because I needed something in my life that wasn’t death, pain, suffering, or losing my mind to the poisons of gambling, Spice, and liquor.”

“Go on.”

You pause, looking down at the crimson spill of blood on the stolen t-shirt. You drag the back of your hand across the wet smear on your top lip and let out a soft sigh.

“I ran circles around the first six bounty hunters, and it was getting boring, I was considering calling it off,” You continue pacing, wringing your hands on the hem of the t-shirt that barely covers your ass, “Then, you come along, Din kriffing Djarin, one of the most feared bounty hunters in the galaxy.”  

Din is silent but you see him shift, sitting up a little straighter at your harsh words of scornful praise.

“And the chase began, you were always so close, often a step or two ahead, and it was like I was breathing fresh air after having only ever known the stale, recycled air of a space station my whole life.”

Din turns his head, the action jarring as you realize he’s avoiding your gaze, you can almost imagine him blushing under that helmet and the thought alone makes heat flutter under your skin.

“And by the fourth time, on Coruscant, you became my own personal blend of Spice.”

You stop pacing, waiting for Din to say something, anything. He sits, still looking away from you and you shake your head. You’re barking up the wrong tree, you’ve kriffed up yet another thing in your life.

But this was by far the most pain you’d ever endured, spilling your guts to a man you had no right feeling anything for. It feels like your skin is positively charged, tremors rocking you as you fight the urge to cry, your chest tight and painful as you feel the binding sting of rejection heavy and constricting.

“Look, just forget it, space me, drop me off at the nearest system, whatever. I’ll get your credits transferred now. You won’t have to see me again.”

You pull up your datapad and through blurry eyes you close the contract, the credits transferring instantly. You turn away, making for the fresher once more, you need to set your nose and clean up. You also need to cry, and you weren’t going to make yourself look any more pathetic in front of him than you already had.

Your skin is on fire, nervous sweat beading on your brow as your skin itches and tingles. Pain rocks through your body as you force the sobs down, just a few more steps and you can cry before wresting your bleeding and broken heart – or whatever is left of it – back into submission.

A Spice addiction can’t be that bad surely?

You joke morbidly to yourself as you reach the fresher door, it slides open just as you hear the spur-like clink of Beskar behind you.

“Wait.”

You halt in your tracks, heart threatening to burst from your chest as you feel him looming behind you. Two armor-clad arms wrap around your waist and pull you back against him, the cool press of Beskar on your flushed skin is blissful.

“I don’t want you to go.”

His voice is so soft, barely above a whisper that you almost miss it through the modulator.

“What?”

“Let me fix your nose, then we should talk, for real this time.”

You turn in his grip and look up into the glossy black “T” of his visor. You can’t see his face, but you can see the way his chest is heaving, the way his arms are wrapping around you like the moment he loosens off you’ll disappear.

Can you blame him?

You think to yourself as you realize that every time you managed to escape, it was harder and harder for you to leave. Not because you had grown bored of the chase – no quite the opposite – you were afraid that with every time you left the chances of him giving up on you grew. One day he was going to stop coming for you.

And for a year he did.

“Ok.” You say softly as you let him steer you into the fresher, he hoists you up before setting you down on the edge of the Durasteel sink. He removes his gloves, stuffing them in the back of his belt before readying himself.

“This’ll hurt.”

Din warns you as he lines himself up in front of you. He slots between your thighs without hesitation, and you regret not stealing a pair of his boxer briefs to slip on under the t-shirt. You had thought that was crossing a line into his privacy. But now, as your bare, embarrassingly wet core is but millimeters from his crotch, you really wish you had.

“Ready?”

You nod, not trusting your voice. Din braces himself a little closer again and you hiss through your teeth as his strong, warm fingers snap your broken nose back into place.

“There you go,” his modulated voice is soft as he cups your cheeks with his impossibly broad hands, his fingertips ghosting your hairline as he turns your head back and forth with meticulous care for his handiwork, “Should heal up just fine.”

He starts to pulls away from your face, but you capture his wrists in your hands. You gently pull on his wrists and guide them to your hips. His chest heaves as you hear his breathing speed up through the modulator and you squeeze your thighs around his waist, pulling him closer. You feel the heat prickle over your skin as your drenched core presses against his crotch. You gasp as you feel him twitch in his flight suit against you.

“What are you doing?”

 “What I should have done on Naboo.” You breathe as you gently unclasp his cloak, fingers trembling as you pull down the neck of his flight suit, baring a thin strip of tan skin. You bury your face in the crook of his neck and press a delicate, feather-light kiss to his exposed skin.

You don’t know what to expect, but the soft, whimpering moan that crackles through his modulator is more than you bargained for. You arch up into him, nipples pebbling as the thin fabric of his blood-soaked shirt does little to mute the cold press of Beskar against your skin.

“Maker.” Din whines again as you latch onto his skin, laving your tongue over his pulse point as you pull the collar down further, you nip lightly at his skin as you grind your core against him. He slowly pushes up the hem of the oversized t-shirt and as his fingertips reach the swell of your ass. He grinds forward aggressively, and you can tell he’s fully hard now. He leans back and tilts his helmet to the side in a silent question.

“Didn’t think stealing your underwear was the right thing to do.”

“So, you just decided to go commando?”

“What can I say? I like the freedom, besides the synthetic silk of my thong was starting to chafe.”

Din swears in another language, you assume Mando’a, before laughing softly, he presses the side of his helmet against your cheek, and you are reminded of the way Lothcats headbutt to show affection.

“We don’t have to do anything,” You say softly as you slowly pull away, moving the collar back up to cover his tantalizing skin, “I just needed to touch you, just once.”

“I want you.”

You pull back and look into the deep depths of his visor and you nod slowly, you place your hands on either side of his helmet, nestling in the concave cheeks. He flinches and you feel his hands twitch on your thighs, but you shake your head slowly before leaning in to place a soft, lingering kiss over where you guess his lips are.

“Bed. Now.”

Din barks as he picks you up with ease, one arm wrapped around your waist as he strides through into the crew quarters. He uses his free hand to turn off the lights on the control panel next to the fresher door. The cavernous space is pitch black as Din lays you back down on the cot.

“Din what are you doing?” You giggle softly, anticipation making you giddy.

“Want to taste you,” Din murmurs as you hear the sound of Beskar buckles and plates sliding over one another. He sets them down gently somewhere near the bottom of the cot, followed by the soft sound of his flight suit dropping to the floor, “Need you.”

“Din, you have me.”

You feel him settle between your knees and Maker is he broad. Then you hear the soft hiss-click of his helmet coming off. You squeeze your eyes shut, knowing the significance of him taking his helmet off in your presence.

“I won’t look, I promise,” You whisper as you feel him covering over you, his strong hands roam your body, mapping out your dips and curves.

“I trust you. You could have taken my helmet off many times over the years, and yet, you did not.”

His voice hits you like a long-lost melody, silken and sweet with a burning richness to it that makes you whine and keen up into him. Your hips roll against his length, and you gasp as his tip glides through your folds.

“Can I taste you, please?” You ask, suddenly feeling bold in the darkness.

“Are you sure? You don’t have to.” Din suddenly sounds bashful, and you smile to yourself as he shows you the side of him you’ve only caught in glimpses when he thought you were out of earshot. The softness he shows Grogu, the care for his adopted son. This is different, unlike those interactions entirely, but the man beneath the Beskar is finally laid bare, for you.

“I want to Din, please.”

“Anything, take anything you want.”

Your heart swells and your pussy clenches around nothing at his words. You blindly reposition, careful to keep your eyes shut, until you’re kneeling between Din’s knees. You run your hands over the thick expanse of his muscular thighs as you gently, teasingly move towards his cock.

Your hands brush over neatly kept curls at the base of it, and you smile to yourself as you use your hands to blindly size it up.

“Interesting.” You hum to yourself and you feel Din shift under you.

“What? Do you not like it? Is it too small?”

“Din, shh,” You coo as you cup his balls with one hand, making your way to the base of his shaft with your lips, “Just expected you to be painfully large, you give off some serious big dick energy strutting around in your Beskar like you own the entire Maker-be-damned galaxy.”

“So, you like it?” He huffs out, squirming at your praise as you flatten your tip against his soft foreskin, licking a long, slow stripe up the underside of his cock.

“I think it’s perfect, you’re perfect.”

You wrap your lips around his tip, pressing your tongue against his slit, circling around his tip, lapping up the pre-come before sinking down his length.

He pants and whines under you as you feel him shift under you, he cups your jaw with one hand as he props himself up on his elbow with the other. You feel his eyes on you, you expect his night vision to be pretty good at this point, but you keep your eyes clamped shut.

“You’re beautiful.”

You groan at his praise and wish you could open your eyes, to look up at him as you choke on his cock. You sink all the way down, you breathe through your nose, inhaling the musky scent of his cock and you let out a soft whine as he nudges against the back of your throat.

“Kriff.” Din grunts as he trembles underneath you, his breathing is shallow as he twitches and whines at every particularly deep bob of our dead.

“Stop.”

He growls aggressively as he sits up, moving you off his cock before pushing you onto your back. He settles between your legs, pulling your legs over his shoulders as he buries his mouth in your dripping folds.

“So sweet.” He murmurs into your skin as you feel the coarse rake of facial hair on your outer folds. His lips find your clit and you cry out when his tongue licks a stripe up from your core to your clit. Everything about him is broad, his tongue laves over your swollen bundle of nerves and you near lose it.

“Din, kriff your mouth feels so good.” You pant as your hips cant up, you glide your fingertips in his hair, not thinking to check if he even had hair. You’re met with soft, damp curls that you immediately twist into your grip. You pull him closer, letting him devour you with abandon. His tongue is unrelenting as two thick fingers come to press against your core.

“Please.”

Is all you can say as you need him inside you, you’re already so close and you want to feel him inside you however possible.

“So kriffing tight.”

Din breathes incredulously as he buries his fingers to the knuckle, his lips find your clit once more and he sucks. You bite down hard on your lip as you fight the urge to scream. Pleasure assaults you like a solar flare, permeating every cell of your body in violent waves as you come hard around his fingers. You’re delirious as you sob through your aftershocks, his thick fingers finally stilling as you tremble from overstimulation.

“Can I have you, please?”

“Yes.”

You hear the lewd sound of him sucking his fingers clean before he crawls back over your body, wet fingers trail over your left nipple and you chase the touch, arching up off the cot.

“So pretty like this.”

Din hums softly as he rolls your nipple between his calloused thumb and forefinger, making you squeal in overstimulated pain and pleasure as he lines up his tip at your core with the other hand. He eases in and you pant at the delicious stretch. He enters you with ease, yet makes your walls flutter and clamp around him as he fits you snugly.  

“Kiss me.”

You plead. His lips crash into yours without hesitation and you moan into his mouth as he starts to move, rolling his hips into you like he knows exactly how you like it. You tease your tongue over his bottom lip and his tongue darts out to meet yours.

Your tongues meet outside of your mouths, sliding over one another in a lewd dance as his thrusts pick up speed. You’re both panting hard when Din seals his lips over yours. His tongue presses into your mouth as you dig your nails into his back. You press together, skin to skin, nails digging little crescent circles in the broad expanse of his back.

Your lips part only to gasp for air before you both dive back in for more, more, more. One of your hand moves to fist into the curls at the nape of his neck, the other drops to your clit. You want to come for him one more time, you want him to feel you squeeze him tight.

“Din, going to come.” You pant against his lips and he groans as he picks up the pace, railing you like it’s the last time.

“Come for me Cyar’ika, let me feel you.”

You do as your told, for the first time in your life, and you come hard. Pleasure seeps into your very bones as fire dances down your spine. Your clit throbs as you press hard circles into it. You feel Din stutter inside you and you feel him start to pull out but you hook your ankles around the small of his back.

“Come inside me.”

You whisper into the crook of his ear as you pull him deep into you.

“Maker!”

Din roars, no longer caring about noise it seems, as he pounds into you, it’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before. You’re whimpering in his ear as his desperate grunts and moans fill your own. He stills inside you, buried to the hilt as he twitches inside you, his spend coating your walls as you pant in his ear.

“Are you ok? I didn’t hurt you?”

Din’s voice is heavy with concern, his breath fanning over your slick skin in soft puffs and you wrap yourself around him like an Ewok.

“No, no you’ve never hurt me, Din.”

You breathe as you nuzzle into his neck, you leave soft, open-mouthed kisses against his skin. You never want this moment to end.

“Come on, we need to shower.”

“Nooooo,” You whine, “Just a few more minutes, don’t want to lose you.”

The words escape from your lips before you can stop them; and Din huffs a short, barking laugh against your skin as he presses a soft kiss to your temple as he pulls out.

“You can’t lose me, I’ve been tracking you for too long, I know you.”

“And I know you. Forever.”

You say, knowing those words in Mando’a means much more than in Galactic Basic. Din presses a soft kiss to your lips, neither acknowledging them nor refuting them. But there’s no rejection in his silence, just a mutual understanding that you are both in this for real.

“Five more minutes.”

Din grunts in submission as he settles on the small cot, pulling you against his bare chest as he places soft kisses to your hairline as you both drift off into the best sleep either of you could ever remember.

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[floral-force]

Fire Up the Engines - oneshot

din djarin x female reader, mechanic!reader (no y/n)

summary: Din Djarin's ship is in need of intense repairs, and he lands in Peli's hangar for help. The witty mechanic assisting Peli with the work might be too enticing and seductive for Din to ignore.

words: 5.9k+

warnings: Explicit, 18+ ONLY; smut (rough sex, fingering, p-in-v), unprotected sex

note: this is filth. plain and simple. have you ever thought about fucking din in his ship? me too--so i wrote a fic. read on ao3 | fic masterlist

Peli shielded her eyes from Tatooine’s blazing twin suns to watch the pre-Empire ship that was landing in her hanger, its engines roaring. She grinned as Din Djarin walked down its lowered ramp with Grogu in the satchel across his chest. He met her where she stood in the shaded tool shed, light bouncing off his armor and onto the curved ceiling.

“Didn’t expect to see you back so soon! But I’d never turn down a chance to see my little buddy!”

Grogu chirped at her and looked up at Din, wiggling around. His helmet tilted back slightly and he sighed, lifting the child out of the satchel and handing him to Peli. He popped his hand on his hip and let the surrogate aunt coo and bounce his strange, adopted child in her arms, the large ears on his wrinkled green head perked up. Din knew Grogu liked visiting Peli—she coddled him almost more than Din did. Aside from that, he could never deny one of the few people he trusted Grogu’s affection.

“I need some repairs,” he stated, watching some of her droids hesitantly pick up toolboxes.

“Already? I just got you this while you were here helping the other guy! Should be as good as—well, not new, but as good as we got it when you were here.”

Din exhaled and crossed his arms. “I had a rough couple of bounties.”

“Pirates?”

“And raiders.”

Her eyes widened and she shook her head. “Well, thank the Force you made it here. If it’s really that bad, then I think I need to contact one of my guys.” 

“I don—”

She waved a hand and shushed him. “Before you even start, I trust this one. She’s my go-to when I know that only using my droids won’t be enough.”

Din rolled his shoulders back and looked at Grogu, who tilted his head and gurgled. He sighed and simply said, “Fine.”

“Alright!” She smiled, her missing tooth adding to the charisma and brightness that she managed to bring no matter where she went. “I’ll go give her a quick call. Shouldn’t be long.”

Din took a step forward and extended his arms. Grogu’s tiny claws wiggled at Peli as she gently passed him off to Din, telling him she’d be back soon with a snack for him. Din cradled the child in his left arm and turned to face the hangar. His visor settled on a crate on the other side, his boots kicking up tiny puffs of sand as he walked over to it under the suns’ relentless rays. The clan of two was soon hidden again in the shade, Din’s knees cracking as he sat on the crate. 

“What do you think, kid?” he asked, running his index finger along one of Grogu’s large, pointed ears. 

“Patu,” Grogu chirped, tilting his head in response, his large brown eyes fixed on Din’s beskar helmet.

Din nodded in agreement and tried to ignore the heat of Tatooine even as he sat in the shade. He hoped that Peli’s contact would be over sooner rather than later and would help make short work of the damage his attackers had done before he blasted them to bits.

Din watched her with crossed arms as she inspected the ship with Peli, her brow furrowing when she noticed a dent or carbon scoring. She was constantly taking notes on her holopad, wiping her brow while she wrote and listened to Peli. At one point, she squatted down ten feet in front of where Din stood to point something out to Peli—a couple tubes were exposed, the metal covering completely blown off—and his eyes lingered too long on the wet spots that had already formed on her back before they trailed down further. He had to avert his eyes, turning his head ever so slightly. 

After what felt like hours, she walked over to where he stood in the shade with Grogu at his feet, curiously peeking out from behind his calf. She chuckled at the green toddler, wiping her brow as her eyes settled onto his visor.

“So, Mando, you’ve had quite the adventure, huh?” she asked, the corner of her lips quirking up into a smile.

“You could say that.”

“I think the carbon scoring and the busted turbine in one of your engines said it for me,” she teased, looking down at her holopad and leaning on her hip. “Well, it might take until the suns set, but Peli and I can get it done. It’ll set you back, though.”

“I can pay.”

She looked up at him through her lashes and his heart quickened when he noticed her gaze linger on his utility built, grazing slowly back up to his helmet. “I’m sure you can.”

He hesitated, his pulse pounding in his ears as she smiled coyly at him. Din was good for the money—and whatever else she desired from him. 

She finally broke her gaze, turning over her shoulder to wave at Peli and give her a thumbs up. Peli nodded and started rounding her droids up and yelling at them to pick up their tools and hustle for her best customer. When she turned back around to face Din, he focused on how soft her lips looked as she flashed him yet another killer smile. He tried his best not to let his eyes get too greedy taking in her figure, but he couldn’t help stop himself from watching a bead of sweat travel down her neck and across the ridge of her collarbone, slipping into her cleavage. A heat rushed throughout his body, and it wasn’t from the brutal midday heat. 

“Well, um…I’ll get to it then.” She rubbed the back of her neck and took a step back towards the tool shed. “Shouldn’t be long, Mando. I’ll try not to keep you waiting.”

Din stared at her as she turned and walked away, his attention stolen by the way her long brown cargo pants perfectly outlined her ass. 

Grogu’s chirps snapped him out of his trance, and he picked his son up, letting him nestle into the bend of his arm.

“You hungry?” he asked, looking down at his son. “Me too.”

After taking Grogu to a nearby market for a meal and ration restock, he arrived back to the hangar as the suns were setting. The sky was turning a light shade of pink, purple melting into it as dusk approached. He saw Peli’s droids wiping down different parts of his ship with polishing rags, their binary chatter filling the empty evening air.

“Make that hunk’a junk sparkle!” Peli yelled, her hands on her hips.

“Thought you said my ship was in the best condition you’d ever seen for what it was.”

She jumped around in surprise, her unique smile lighting up the hangar as he stepped into it from the entryway. “Mando! You’re back right in time. Droids are polishing her up, and she’s finishing up one last thing with one of the guns.”

Din nodded, feeling Grogu wiggle in the satchel. “Can I set these things down in the hull?” he asked, lifting the bags of rations—and a few special treats Grogu had waved into Din’s basket with his powers—he carried in his hands.

“Go right ahead! But before you do—” Peli ran in front of him and held her hands out. “Lemme have the little womp rat! I gotta show him how to kick butt at cards.”

Din heard Grogu babble up at him, and he sighed, setting the heavy bags down. Those eyes were his biggest weakness. He gently took the satchel off, handing the gurgling bundle off to a very excited Peli. He watched her walk away with a spring her step, responding to Grogu’s chirps with colorful commentary. He shook his head and chuckled under the helmet. Something told him Grogu would leave Tatooine even morespoiled than the last time they’d visited. 

He pressed a button on his vambrace, and the ramp lowered. Din picked the bags up again, his muscles straining with the weight, but it was nothing he couldn’t handle; Tatooine just made every physical task more tiring than it was to begin with. He walked up and into his ship, heading over to the ration crate. Din dropped the bags in with a grunt, then put his hands on his hips, satisfied. After raising the ramp and closing the ship up, he dropped to one knee and sifted through the bags, looking for Grogu’s special treats so he could set them aside. 

“You’ve got quite a unique ship, Mando.”

Din immediately drew his blaster, his head snapping up so he could better his aim at the woman in front of him.

“Whoa! It’s me!” she said, throwing her hands up. Her clothes had splotches of dirt and grease on them, the palms of her working gloves dirtied as well. There was a smear of grease on her cheek, and it wrinkled when she smiled at him. The sweat on her brow and under her eyes sent a chill down his spine; it was oddly enticing, highlighting features he hadn’t noticed earlier.

He should know better by now when it came to Peli and trusting people. It only got him into trouble he hadn’t wanted in the first place. 

And this mechanic was the epitome of trouble, her seductive smile and enticing body only fueling the growing fire within him.

He squeezed his blaster, the pinch of his glove snapping him back to the present threat. “How did you get in here?” Din asked, his voice darkening.

“I was fixing the gun and had to open the belly up a bit to get to some wires. I ended up over by the privy.” When Din didn’t lower his blaster, she quickly added, “Don’t worry, I didn’t touch anything! You do a good enough job messing her up on your own.”

Din answered her quip with silence. Her smile fell, and she looked down at the floor. He kept his blaster raised only so he could keep her in front of him—he wanted to take in every part of her that he didn’t get to earlier, from her messy hair to her scuffed-up boots. The cargo pants she wore were now stained with dirt and grease, and they hugged her perfectly in the thighs—and he knew from earlier that they made her ass look delicious, too. They were sloppily cuffed over leather lace-up boots, but he paid no mind to them. His mind was focused solely on how fast he could undo the belt cinched around her waist and gain access to the skin hidden under fabric and mesh. The thought alone was enough to send a chill down his spine and make his cock twitch; she was totally clothed and yet his head grew heavy with lust.

Din had to wrench his eyes up and away from the belt; any longer, and he knew his cock would grow visibly hard. The gray sleeveless shirt she wore clung to her body, grease and other random splotches lightly patterning it. His eyes landed on her chest, and he noticed that she was breathing a little heavier than she had been earlier, her chest rising and falling in a rhythm driven by nerves and, maybe, anticipation. The straps of the sleeveless top rested on top of darker ones, which led him to believe that she was wearing some sort of bra; Din made a mental note to take care of that when the time came. He’d been too busy studying the way sweat dripped into her cleavage to have noticed it earlier. Even in the cool hull of the ship, her bare arms and shoulders glistened with sweat. Her gloved hands were trembling so softly that Din wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t been imagining them clutching his armor.

Under his scrutiny, she felt her skin tingle. Her heart was starting to speed up, banging against her ribs, pumping her blood full of adrenaline. Underneath the anxiety, though, was a hint of excitement. Something about the void of the visor sucked her right in, dropping her into a black pool of desire—desire.

He tilted his helmet up at her, and her eyes caught the movement. He stood and holstered his blaster, and she dropped her hands, a sigh escaping her lips. Din took a step closer, invading her space. Her breath caught in her throat as she looked up at him through her lashes. Din clenched his fists when she bit her bottom lip and looked down at the ground again. He almost wanted her to see his growing erection, wantedher to see that she was close to pushing him past the point of no return.

“You’re a man of few words,” she quietly remarked, her heart fluttering a bit when he tilted his head to the side.

“I’m more of a man of action.”

His smooth voice ran over her like water after a long day, seeping into her bones—but his voice was pure gasoline, lighting her insides on fire instead of quenching her thirst for more. Heat rushed to her cheeks, and she gingerly placed a gloved hand on his chest, the metal dividing them. Din didn’t even care that he’d have to polish it and work a little harder to get the grease and grime off it; his thoughts were clouded with her, desire starting to overtake him.

“Wanna show me, Mando?”

Her sultry invitation sent flames through his veins. She yelped when his hands pushed her back into the wall near the ladder to the cockpit; her coy smile up at him and soft nod let him know that she liked it. The force of him pushing her back and pressing her against the cold metal wall added fuel to the growing fire he’d lit within her, and she squirmed when she felt a throb between her legs. She squeezed her eyes shut and bit her lower lip. Din wished he could be the one tugging on it with his teeth, but he’d have to settle with the show she was giving him, her lovely face’s demure expression beginning to melt and reveal the neediness below the surface.

Din used her need to his advantage, crowding into her, slotting his left thigh between her legs. He could hear her soft pants, his helmet close enough that the hot exhales fogged up the beskar. The way her legs shifted to welcome his leg gave her growing arousal away. He chuckled, and she immediately perked up, her eyes opening and centering back on his visor. Her pupils were blown, her lips gently parted, sweat gathering again on her forehead because of the Mandalorian pressing up against her. Din drank it all in, his lips parted underneath his helmet, eyes heavy with want.

She whined and looked up when his hands trailed slowly down from her shoulders to her chest, the rough leather dragging across the sensitive, sticky skin. 

“Do you want more?” 

Her eyes dropped back to his visor. She nodded enthusiastically, whispering yes please touch me more as Din traced a finger back up to her shoulder, his cock aching in response to her plea. When he took a small step back, she whimpered, already feeling an ache at the loss of his thigh and the pressure from his armor. 

She kept her eyes on his helmet, watching it turn to the left as he toyed with the straps on her shoulder, pulling them up with two fingers. 

“Take these—” He released the straps, the snap against her skin making her whine, “—Off.”

He took his hands off her, taking a few more steps back so he could take all of her in. He dropped a hand over the bulge in his pants and roughly palmed it through his pants as she lifted the dirty shirt over her head, letting it fall to the floor. Din choked and his cock throbbed when she pulled her banded bra off, finally revealing her tits. He noticed her nipples pebble almost immediately, accenting the soft skin she’d been hiding from him all this time. 

“Fuck,” he growled, closing the short distance between them with heavy, needy steps.

She giggled when he lifted her off her feet, moving her back to the wall, closer to the ladder this time. He set her down with a low groan that sent electric shocks throughout her body and heat to her cheeks. She closed her eyes, her mind racing as much as her heart was. She wanted to run her hands across his body, finger the uncovered parts of him, work him and unravel him as much as he was doing it to her.

She was also perfectly happy to let the Mandalorian grip her skin hard and tight, make her hiss when he pinched her nipples between gloved fingers, and to let him press into her, the cold metal of his armor leaving shallow indents in her skin. His roughness enticed her and made her burn even more, the heat starting to pool in her core, more dripping down with every squeeze of her ass and heady groan that escaped his lips.

The clang of metal hitting metal disrupted her thoughts of peeling the armor off piece by piece, and she looked down to see the Mandalorian on his knees, his helmet fixed on her face. When his hands came to grip her shins, she closed her eyes and let the back of her head hit the wall, arousal pooling low in her core and dampening her panties. She giggled when one of his hands squeezed her thigh, almost missing the low groan that slipped out of him. 

“So fucking sexy,” he purred, his hands now running up and down her legs, the pads of his fingers digging in and applying pressure.

Her knees trembled, and the whine that slipped out of her mouth made him pause for a moment. Din Djarin wasn’t normally greedy, but in this moment, he wanted to own every part of her. Every part of her demanded attention, and he was determined to be the only one who could tame and satiate her. He wanted to be the one she thought of when she touched herself, the one she compared every other person to, the one who drove her crazy with lust.

Din knew exactly where to strike next to make his purpose clear.

He looked up at her, the skin of her torso glistening with sweat, her breasts tempting him and teasing him. Din edged his right hand down to her knee, and his left resumed stroking up and down. With no ceremony or grace, he looped his arm under her left leg and lifted it, adjusting his position and her leg so her knee came to rest on his shoulder, the cool metal of his pauldron slowly seeping through the fabric of her pants. She gasped and her hands clutched the wall, her left landing on a rung of the ladder. Din smiled under his helmet at the sight of her, half naked and unconsciously rocking her hips towards his helmet.

He cupped his left hand against her hidden sex, and she whined, pressing down for some sort of release. His quiet laughter at her neediness only made her cunt ache more, his roughness only turning her on more.

“Please, touch me,” she panted, her knuckles white and skin sensitive.

“I already am.” When she groaned at his snarky answer, he abruptly pressed the palm of his hand against her with more pressure, whisking the irritation right out of her mind. “You’ll have to be more specific.”

Her head felt light as he began to slowly rub his hand back and forth, the broad pressure and sensation making her wetter by the second. She managed to collect herself and mumble between pants and whimpers, “Please…Please touch my…touch my pussy.”

“Good girl.”

The purred praise made her body shake and the whine that she released was music to Din’s ears. Under the helmet, a devilish grin spread across his face as he lowered her leg off his shoulder and then quickly undid her belt, throwing it to the side, the tools attached to it clattering on the metal ground. All she could do was watch him stand up and yank her pants and underwear down to her boots. She hissed when cold air hit her hot skin, her naked body on display to the Mandalorian. Leather traced down her legs as she drew her arms back in to her body. She tore her gloves off and let her bare hands find their way to her tits, massaging them and slipping over the sweat that had gathered on her skin. 

“Wish I could just cut these in two,” she heard him growl before forcing her to spread her legs as much as she could.

“Gotta make it challenging somehow,” she teased.

He nodded, his left arm wrapping around her waist, lifting her off the wall a bit. His left leg came to rest between hers, and she whimpered when he pushed against her right leg, forcing her to stay spread open for him. Din’s free hand came to rest on her cheek before pushing her hands out of the way so he could roughly massage her tits, the force of it all making her melt. He could smell her—sweat, grease, lust—as he bent his neck and nudged his helmet against her head, pleased when her hands gripped his wrist, begging him to explore her further.

He straightened up, his helmet once again focused on her, her wide eyes and sweaty brow giving him a primal satisfaction that rushed to his cock. He saw her eyes dart to the obvious bulge, and as her hands started to make a dive for it, he clicked his tongue and snatched her wrists in his hand.

“Not yet,” he said in response to her whine. “Keep massaging those pretty tits of yours for me, baby.”

She nodded, immediately doing as told. When he interrupted her, taking one of her hands in his, she gave him a quizzical look, catching her breath. “Something wrong?”

“Take the glove off for me, pretty girl.”

Her plush lips spread into an eager smile, and she quickly yanked his glove off. Before he could work any lower, she looked right into his visor and gripped his wrist, bringing his index and middle fingers to her lips. Din sharply inhaled when she took them into her mouth, her tongue swirling around them, carving patterns only she knew into his skin. His cock was heavy and ready, and Din had to bite the inside of his cheek so he didn’t just fuck her right where she stood. Her pretty lips wrapped around his fingers, and she moaned at the salty taste of his skin, knowing exactly where his fingers were going next when she took them out of her mouth with a pop.

Din pulled his hand out of her weak grip, reaching between her legs and sliding between her folds. He focused on her the entire time, his helmet never focused on anything other than her face, perspiration sitting at her hairline. Noticing hers made him suddenly feel the sweat dripping down his neck and temples, physical proof of the heat from his motion and of the fire within him. 

When his fingers graced over her clit, she jumped and hissed, arching and bucking into him. He pushed further back, and when his fingers grazed over her slit, a loud whine filled the hull, a moan trailing after it when he slipped a digit into her. He exhaled a gentle laugh at her neediness as he listened to her begs for more, more fill the air. He could feel her walls already starting to tighten, and he couldn’t deny her any longer. 

Din slowly pulled his finger out of her slick cunt, trailing it back up and adding a second to rub slow circles on the sensitive bud. She keened and pressed her hands against his shoulders at his achingly slow touch, her fingers clutching at his pauldrons. Heat ran through her, sweat dripping down her forehead and starting to collect behind her knees as she chased her climax. The Mandalorian’s fingers worked her clit perfectly, her achingly empty cunt starting to tighten and flutter. He sensed her growing desperation and traced his fingers back to her slit, the pads of them circling and dragging the slick that leaked out of her around her entrance. She whined even louder, moaning and begging and bucking her hips forward. 

“You’ve been so good for me,” Din purred, his head light. “And you know what good girls get?”

She opened her eyes and shook her head.

“They get to come for me.”

As Din spoke, he slid two thick fingers inside of her, her gasp making him grin in satisfaction. Her eyes went wide, and then she squeezed them shut, her entire body tensing up. Din pumped his fingers, his left hand splaying across her back to hold her steady and support her as she reached her peak. Her mouth fell open, her eyelids fluttering. He curled his fingers and stroked back and forth in a certain spot he’d noticed had been making her cry out, focusing all his attention there. Din was rewarded with a strangled cry and felt her tighten around him, even her legs getting tense.

“Look at me.”

Din’s command broke through her ecstasy. Her eyes opened and focused on him. A bead of sweat trailed down her neck—he wished he could lick it up with his tongue.

“Don’t hold back,” Din grunted, “Be a good girl and come for me.”

She kept her eyes open as her jaw dropped, a silent scream escaping her open mouth as her climax set her on fire. Her legs shook and Din licked his lips as her cunt pulsed and contracted around his fingers, dragging his fingers against that spot one last time before pulling them out. Her chest heaved up and down, waves of pleasure and flames of want still clashing within her. She whined at the empty feeling, then yelped in surprise when he slid his fingers into her mouth, her orgasm still coating them.

“Taste yourself.” Din’s helmet tilted up slightly as he slid them into her mouth all the way to the knuckle. She stared at him as her tongue went to work, eagerly licking his fingers clean. Her head was heavy with pleasure, and she worked fast so her empty cunt could be filled again.

“Good fucking girl,” Din growled. He slid his fingers out of her mouth and placed his hand on her waist. He took a moment to take in her sweaty skin, his eyes scanning her again, plotting his next move.

He wanted that tongue on his cock, but he’d tortured himself enough. 

From the look in her eyes, Din could tell she knew it too.

Under the helmet, he spotted two crates stacked on top of each other to his left. His eyes went back to her, and before she had time to process what was happening, he wrapped his arms around her and lifted her off the ground. She squealed, stumbling when he roughly set her down. After she caught her balance, he pushed her lower back down, forcing her to bend over. The slight arch of her back skillfully presented the thighs and ass she’d kept hidden under the cargo pants; the seductive sight of it caused Din to already start to unravel.

“How’s the view?”

Her cheeky question made him laugh as he quickly undid his belt and dropped his pants enough for his cock to spring out, the tip leaking sticky beads of fluid. He stroked himself, giving her plump ass a smack with his gloved hand and enjoying the way it moved. She recoiled and hissed at the sting, but it sent a jolt of electricity through her, the fire in her core sparked and growing again. 

“I love it,” he said, accenting his statement with another spank. 

He pressed the fat head of his cock against her slit, soaking it in her arousal and groaning at how wet she still was. Din guided his cock up and down through her folds with his bare hand, biting his lip when he felt her juices start to coat his fingers. Slowly, he started to rock his hips into her, his restrained moans joining her shameless begging as his cock glided back and forth from her slick entrance to her clit and back again at a faster pace. He placed his hands on her hips and massaged the sensitive skin, enjoying the warmth of it. It was torture for both, flames engulfing them and demanding attention. She gasped and mewled—Mando, Mando, fuck—and pressed her ass back as much as she could just to feel more of him. The desire to be full of him was overriding everything else within her, and Din had teased himself long enough.

“Fuck, I can’t take it anymore,” he growled, his fingers digging into her flesh.

He slid into her cunt, her walls still slick from the orgasm he pulled out of her. Her moan echoed in the hull and bounced around in his helmet, a sound he never wanted to forget. A moan slipped from Din’s mouth after he buried himself to the hilt inside of her, a strangled groan and growl from deep in his throat. 

“Stars, you fill me up so fucking good,” she mewled, a sharp thrust eliciting a high-pitched whimper immediately after.

Din’s brow furrowed and sweat dripped down his temples. He was already close to spilling, his cock throbbing as he fucked her, his speed increasing after her praise. The obscene sound of skin slapping skin reverberated in the hull, the canvas that they painted with their moans and whines. Her ass bounced beautifully with every thrust, and the way his greedy gloved hand massaged the meaty flesh sent jolts of pleasure throughout her body.

She had never been fucked like this—so primal, rough, fast—and it made her cunt clamp around him again. When he placed his bare hand on the small of her back and pushed down, pressing her into the crate, she gasped, her fingers flexing out for stability. The new angle allowed his cock to drive into her, filling her to the brim even more than he already had. She whined and her cries grew louder, finally turning her head to try to see the Mandalorian. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw his helmet was tilted back, his groans so loud that they overpowered the vocoder in his helmet. 

He was raw and burning and harsh. The way he fucked her without mercy made her eyes roll back into her head; he impaled her on his length and she loved it. Every thrust was pushing her closer to the edge again, and she made sure he knew it. She twisted her arm to find the wrist on her back and gripped it. The contact caused his hips to stutter briefly as she started to meet his thrusts with needy movements of her own, pushing back with her ass to chase her growing orgasm. He was lavishing her with aggressive attention, slamming into her just to prove his point, driving her further into pleasure. Her mouth fell open, eyebrows scrunching together as his cock tore through her and shocked her entire body.

“Please don’t stop—Mando—fuck, I-I’m so fucking close, I’m right fucking there,” she whined, moaning Mando over and over, a prayer that flooded his entire body with fire, shooting electricity into his veins.

She moaned and her walls fluttered around him, the movement making his head light and his breath quicken. He fucked into her faster, harder, relentlessly so he could follow with her. Din’s grip on her tightened as his thrusts became erratic. She was already committing this to memory—his sharp thrusts, the modulated groans and growls, the full feeling in her core—just so she could pleasure herself to it again.

There was only one piece missing—one thing that would send her toppling over the edge. She forced her lips to close again, willing her muscles to work so she could speak coherently.

“Breed me,” she groaned, twisting to look at him with drool dripping down her chin.

The sight alone nearly tipped Din over the edge, but he held back just to fuck her a few moments more. He wanted to selfishly relish in the way he’d made her look, all messy and subdued. Tamed. And now, she wanted to be bred, claimed. 

She had pushed him to the edge, made his cock throb against her walls. Din gasped and grunted as he kept fucking her, knowing he couldn’t deny himself much longer.

“I wanna be fucking leaking after this,” she growled, gritting her teeth. “Breed me, Mando.”

Din threw his head back at her demand, screwing his eyes shut as he felt himself tip over the edge. She growled when he yanked his hand out of her grasp to grip her hip, slamming her back onto his cock. Their animalistic grunts and moans reached a crescendo as Din felt her cunt clench around him right as he erupted, his cock entirely sheathed inside of her. Din groaned with every pulse of his cock, the tight grip he had on her hips slowly loosening. She was gasping, her body shaking with the force of her orgasm.

Din pulled out with a hiss, and he spread her cheeks with his hands, stepping back and tilting his head. His seed was already spilling out of her hole, and she gasped when he gently fingered it back inside of her.

“Can’t waste a single drop of this,” he murmured, licking his lips.

Her small laugh was muffled. He stepped back and gingerly sheathed his cock as she slowly stood up on shaking legs. 

“Your ship is a real—ah—piece of work,” she said as she tugged her pants back on, using too much force and irritating her still-sensitive cunt. 

“You may have mentioned that,” Din replied.

Din watched as she walked over to her discarded shirt and bra, smiling to himself when he noticed how her gait was a little more awkward than it had been before he bent her over and fucked her senseless. The proof of it was on his fingers, but he destroyed the sweet evidence with a quick wipe of a cloth lying in his rack. The hole she’d climbed out of was nearby, her tools forgotten about. He looked at it, then at her. Sweat glistened on her chest and forehead, the smear of grease on her cheek had disappeared—smudged off on the crate as he fucked her, most likely.

She shot him a shy smile and turned around to pick up her tool belt, facing him again as she strapped it back on. Her work gloves lay near the ladder, and she bent over to grab them. His gaze made her skin feel hot and nervous, but excited. Her body was already begging for more, the fire still raging despite the water thrown on it.

Her fingers toyed with the gloves, and she tapped the toe of one scuffed boot into the metal floor. Her eyes were focused on the floor, teeth worrying her bottom lip. She slowly looked back up at the Mandalorian, trying to push back thoughts of their animalistic sex and the dull throbbing of her cunt. 

“Maybe you could use a mechanic,” she shrugged, a playful smile teasing across her lips.

“Yeah,” Din nodded. “I think I could.”

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