If Ur In The Epic Discord You've Seen This Dumb Thing Already But Here It Is Again

Mi ammazzo

rushed to make this as soon as I finished the episode

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

@hoeneey @howaboutcastiel @welcometostayingawake @syrma-sensei @ethanhoewke @polaroidpetal @foxilayde @bookfrog242 @wh0reforbucknasty @zakizigekwe @ahookedheroespureheart @buckys-other-punk @anxious-sappho @alexloveskili @captainrexstan @knights-power @southcrnbelle @niallsbunny @hold-our-destiny @vermillionwinter @stormkobra-5 @erenbissexual @alwritey-aphrodite @maggotzombie @deadpige0n @bakerstreethound @whatthehekko @cottagebunny9 @bit-dodgy-innit @peachyproserpina @pedrosprincess

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I’ve come to the conclusion that I’ll never take this show seriously- there will always be a shit post.

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

pussy inspection with old man logan.. and he’s wearing his reading glasses.. omfg

cw: smut (nsfw), implied age gap

it’s late in the evening. a small bedside lamp illuminates the faint rose blush on your cheeks caused by the scene in front of you. it’s logan. he’s right between your legs, the hairs on his beard tickling your inner thigh, his face so close to your bare pussy, you can feel his quiet breathing on your skin. he’s wearing his glasses, of course he is. 

with two fingers, he spreads your glistening folds and blows lightly on your clit, the action making you shiver and instinctively try to shut your legs. but he pries them open again, his whole frame now between your thighs. you’re forced to face him, you just can’t look away. this feeling of being splayed out for him like a meal, vulnerable and nude, is erotically nauseating, addicting.

“you’ve been a good girl, right?” logan asks, slicing the tension in the air. you swallow and nod with a quiet “mhm”, not trusting your voice to speak.

in response, he places a soft kiss on your clit, the action eliciting something wild in you, a feeling of obedience, an all-consuming thought that this is what you were made for. to please him and get rewarded.

the cool wind blows through the open windows, making the curtains sway lightly and goosebumps erupt on your legs. logan lifts his gaze, looking up at you through his glasses which were resting carefully on the bridge of his nose. he gently runs a reassuring hand up and down your thigh.

“let me warm you up, baby.” he speaks softly.

and you oblige, you give yourself to him. perhaps the unconventional dynamic of your relationship was unnerving, a little too much for such a young thing like you. but that’s exactly what he was here for - to help you. so he rushes to your aid, releasing all of your pent up tension for you. you mold like putty in his hands, his beard covered in your juices, your limbs limp by the end of the night, the only time you speak being when you come undone on his tongue, whispering his name like a prayer.

y'know what i'd love to see more of?? All the struggles odysseus experienced on board, and then it's taken from him once he returns. The familiarity of danger and shortage,,

In The Dark

Rating: 18+, Explicit Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader Wordcount: +2K Summary: “We almost died” sex. Warnings: Some violence. Some smut. Some smut in a cave.

His hands shake as he hovers over you, leather knuckles running over the split skin of your cheek. Your eyes blink open - blurred vision - soot in the corners of your lids. Your lip is swelling. The air is ripe with the carcass of fire, the oxygen turned chemical and grim. 

“Din,” you whisper and it’s terrified, ragged and torn up. He touches you, keeps just touching, skating his palms over your skull, your chest as he checks for gashes or fractures. “Din,” you repeat when you try to sit up. 

“Stay still. I need to - I need to check you over. Your head hit the ground pretty hard.” Even with the modulator, even through the cool and indifferent coating, his voice sounds distressed - notched on a tremble. That was close - that was inches - seconds - 

He murmurs your name as he lifts you up to scan your back, to search for anything. He presses his fingers to your temple and you flinch, a sharp, throbbing sting exploding forth. When he pulls his hand away, there’s blood on his gloves. He sighs, his enormous, hunched form deflating beside you. 

Continua a leggere

after season 2

slowly transferring my twitter art to tumblr…..slowly…..