Check Out My Ongoing Comic Crow Time. It Has Crows, And Also Neat Pantheons Of Epic Beasties.

Check out my ongoing comic Crow Time. It has crows, and also neat pantheons of epic beasties.

𝐑𝐢𝐭𝐞

pairing: Din Djarin x Reader

word count: 1k

warnings: Smuttt. Needy Din- maskless Din is a sub, fight with the wall. Body worship (face… worship?). P in V sex- emphasis more on the P on V sex). Not proof read.

summary: Traditions form after Din removes the mask.

It’s freezing cold to the touch, the sharp edges of his helmet practically slicing your fingers open as you tentatively lift the beskar from his face. You feel his aquiline nose catch on the foam padding on the inside. You utter a sorry.

Din’s palms splay over your hips where you straddle him in the minute cot, leather biting lightly against your bare skin where he digs his fingers in. His eyelashes flutter as the edge of his helmet is pulled up, and he’s exposed to the harsh, untempered lights inside the Razor Crest. Din turns his face to the side, unable to look you in the eye. Even now, after all this time, he’s still momentarily apprehensive about displaying his face to you.

“Hold still for me,” you whisper, so quiet that you’re sure that your own heartbeat muffles your order, drowning your words out with its pulse. It’s thrumming wildly against your sternum, still thrilled by the sight of Din’s eyes on you.

Mercenary, Bounty Hunter, Mandalorian- Mandalore. All of Din’s titles melt away like beskar in an armourer’s kiln when you’re alone. The alloy drips and runs and cools, melding the warrior a far simpler and benign title- yours.

Din’s breath stalls in his lungs as you begin your ritual, his eyes cast to the durasteel hangar ceiling as he feels you press your lips to his with a gentle urgency. One kiss, then another, and another. You barely give him a moment to register your affections, his own lips lagging behind in their response.

“Mhmm~” You hum, but it bleeds into a whine as you settle your bare cunt over the length of Din’s cock. His groan dies behind gritted teeth as you sweep your hips over the length of him, soaking the velvety skin with your slick.

His chestplate is freezing against your breasts as you lean over him, having given him no time to undress when you threw him back against the cot and took what you wanted. Your nipples are hard against the cold Beskar-steel, dragging back and forth slightly as your hips rock against the curve of his dick. It makes you ache for him even more.

Focusing a slow, steady rhythm with your hips, you allow your lips to wander. They trace his jawline, sharp as the spear he carries with him. Din tilts his head back for you, gasping out your name as you bite the skin stretched across the bone. You nip playfully, focusing your attention on the patchy parts of his jaw, where the hair is sparse.

“C-Cyar'ika,” Din groans, his voice pitchy over the wet sounds of his cock sweeping through your folds. The head bumps your clit, and you whine against the curve of his jaw, your chin pressed to his pulse point.

Din Djarin is the prettiest man you’d ever met. His expressions, however, were even more enticing. Hidden behind a mask for his entire adult life, Din never learnt to neutralise his face. It made him emotive, especially in bed.

As you kiss the tip of his nose, you watch as his eyebrows pinch together, then arch up slightly as you let the weeping tip of his cock nudge at your entrance. You settle on it lightly, let the head sink inside before pulling up again quickly, barely allowing him a moment to relish the tight heat. He lets out a groan of frustration, desperation, as you drag your lips over the arch of his aquiline nose.

God, you love his nose. You praise it, its beauty, worship the way it makes you feel when you grind down on it. Humming softly, you can’t help but grin into the kisses you offer as his jaw falls slack, moaning out your name.

“Stars,” he groans out louder, with a sudden urgency that startles you, “Please, I need- I need to feel you.”

Din’s voice without the modulator is impassioned, cracking slightly on a whine as he begs you for mercy. For relief. A vulnerable tone he barely affords you unless you take control. The leather of his gloves digs into the meat of your ass, palms shifting your hips forward to pull your weeping pussy across his length.

Refusing to give into his demands, you continue your affections. You press soft kisses above his eyebrows, then each of his closed eyelids. His eyes- they took your breath away, stealing your attention when he first removed his helmet for you. You’d heard the tales of ‘brown eyes’, but they did little to emphasise their beauty. Deep, rich, laced with Din’s heavily guarded emotions that he’d veiled with beskar.

“You’re impatient,” you finally point out in a breathy whisper, lungs working a little harder as you feel something delicious settle at the base of your spine. Din looks like he could cry, desperation kicking in as he jerks his hips up against yours.

“I am deprived,” he murmurs back, an edge to his tone. The Child had clung to him for days following his last bounty job- he hadn’t had time alone with you for at least a week despite doing everything he could- stolen kisses in the cockpit, even attempting to shut Grogu in his bassinet. Somehow, he always managed to stumble into the room at the most inopportune time, much to his father’s utter dismay.

Sitting up, one of your palms settles on Din’s breastplate, you push strands of his unkempt curls from his damp forehead. Din, as renowned and feared a bounty hunter he is, also keens for you, vulnerable and achy for your affections. He chases your hand, leaning his face into your touch as you care for him.

Rewarding his openness, you reach between your thighs to take his cock in your palm. Din lets out a slight hiss, sucking between his teeth as you work his cock slowly. The drag of your palm against his sensitive flesh has him bucking his hips again, pressing the crown of his head back into the pillow.

“Din,” you whisper his name, watching him squeeze his eyes shut and centre his focus on the swirling arousal that builds quickly.

“Please.”

Pressing a gentle kiss to Din’s lips, swollen from your previous affections, you sink down onto his aching cock.

“Fuuuuck, Cyar'ik-aah-“

END

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OMFG

din djarin word spew GO

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in mandalorian culture its a sign of love, trust, and bonding to bump foreheads with the one you are intimate with.

this is dins way of saying 'i love you.'

coming up beside you and gently lifting your head up, then placing his helmet-covered forehead onto yours. the metal is always such a vast contrast to your warm skin, but your eyes still shut and a warm smile crosses your face. it was his way of a kiss.

you know that he never takes his helmet off, thats why it was such a surprise when he sat next to you in the cold air of whatever plant you were on. he had a bounty here. he had yet to set off, telling you that he would do so in the morning, when you were still asleep.

din pulled his helmet off when you were looking at a bird on a nearby tree. you looked back to him when you heard a soft clink on the ground. he let you look at his face for a few seconds before placing his warm hand on your cheek, leaning in and placing his forehead on yours.

your hands found his head, one of your nimble hands going up to his brown hair, the other resting on his shoulder. he pulled away a few seconds later, brown eyes, looking into yours. your finger twitched, your hand that was buried in his hair going down to his cheek. A few seconds later, you connected your lips with dins. it was sweet and short, a first kiss.

when you both pulled away, you gingerly smiled before squeezing dins hand that was still on your cheek

this was, this is dins way of saying 'i love you.'

A Grinding Stop

Din Djarin x F!Reader

Here is it on AO3

Rated: Explicit 18+

Word Count: 1.2k+

Summary: Din rents a room at an inn and you take advantage of the big bed. 

Warnings: smut, fluff, pwp, grinding, non-penetrative sex, pet names, dirty talk, woman on top, helmetless Din, no y/n.

A/N: Merry Christmas loves! This fic has absolutely nothing to do with Chirstmas but I’ve been having absolutely depraved thots about our beloved Tin Can Man for the past several days and I had to share. I’ve been thinking about grinding on him and how hot he’d look laying underneath you. This was originally just gonna be a quick headcanon post but it turned into a short fic. There is pretty much no plot here, just smut. Please enjoy! 

He’s splayed out beneath you, looking up at you with those beautiful brown eyes like a challenge. He’d let you win. You knew that — he knew that. But here you are, straddling his slender hips, with your fingers intertwined in his, pinning his hands above his head. He could easily turn the tables on you — he could flip you over, and hold you down, and make you beg for him until you couldn’t take it anymore. He could do all of that but he doesn’t. No, he likes the feeling of your weight above him, pressing him into the mattress, and he wants to see where this goes. 

Continua a leggere

That’s his dad!!