#hdlynn

okay though but Din Djarin hasn't seen you in like, weeks. he's masturbated before but that doesn't relieve the need the same way being with you does. like sure, he can use his hand to stroke himself off and be done with it in a couple minutes, but it's got nothing on being tangled up in the blankets with you, bodies entwined, skin damp with sweat and his mouth on yours

so when he knows he's coming back home, he saves it up all for you. doesn't touch himself for nearly two weeks. by the time he's striding through the door, he's already erect and weeping cum in his pants. as he comes to the bedroom, he watches as you stumble out of the bathroom, one leg tangled up in your pants. you've already shed your sleep shirt. your pants go flying. your panties follow.

din's naked by the time your mouths meet and your bodies collide. he's hard and he's grinding up against your belly, little groans escaping him as he mouths at your shoulder, digging his teeth so he can hear you squeal. he's got you horizontal, your legs spread, your cunt aching and weeping when he realizes maybe it was a bad idea to not masturbate before coming home because dear gods you're beautiful and he's not going to last more than three seconds if he hears you moan one more time -

"just stick it in," you say impatiently, "been on edge all day, cyare, all wet and ready for you to fuck me. please." he laughs in that gorgeous caramel laugh of his and rests his weight on his palms, one on either side of your head as he arches his weight onto you.

"i won't last more than three seconds if i do that," he says with a sheepish grin. 'been waiting a very long time to see you again..."

impatiently, you pull at his hips, giving him a coy smile

'please?' you whisper, and he's already fucked because he can never say no to you so he nods, and he lines himself up with your cunt and starts to push in. din's eyes close reflexively as your warm, wet walls tighten around him, pulling and squeezing as he moves. your soft moans make it really difficult to not just cum on the spot, and by the time he's found the end of you, he's panting harshly and counting to fifty in every language he knows to stop himself from thrusting and embarrassing himself. din grits his teeth and lets out a shaky breath.

'it's okay,' you whisper soothingly, 'just let go. please, i just want you to fill me up, din."

and just like that, he's done, he doesn't even need to thrust. the next time your pussy clenches around him, he cums, shooting his load so hard you can actually feel it. din moans and grinds into you, prolonging his orgasm, before he pants. he rests for a moment. you thump your heel into his ass and give him a charming grin as you squeeze around his rapidly deflating cock.

'too bad you can't make it a double," you say with a cheeky smirk

and his dick's right back to hard and he starts grinding deep into your pussy, letting the head of his cock slide against that spot that makes your toes curl. din kisses you again, with sloppy, wet, open-mouth kisses before his teeth find your skin. then he licks at the little bites to soothe away the sting, his hips rocking and grinding at the same maddening pace. each thrust feels so, so good. you can feel him in your belly as he moves, and you lift your legs a little higher around his waist, giving him another half-inch. din slides a little deeper, forcing a gasp out of you, and he just keeps going, stimulating your already over-stimulated walls, pushing you further into madness with each stroke of his cock

you're sobbing, wild with desire, begging incoherently by the time he takes mercy on you, and his thumb finds your clit, and he circles it agonizingly slowly and your hips lift up to meet his, your cunt squeezing around his cock until he feels like it's going to break in half

din starts moving faster, harder, driving his cock into your warmth so hard your tits bounce and you brace yourself against the headboard. youre gasping, far past making any sort of intelligible speech, and then your back arches and you finish around him, your walls squeezing around him as you milk every last drop out of his cock. din grinds deep again, a low moan escaping him, as he finishes filling you up a second time.

you're lying there, chest heaving, sweat glistening on your tits and collarbones, when he grins and kisses you on the nose. he thrusts his still hard cock into you

You sigh, planting your hands on your hips. The Mandalorian continues to lay on his stomach with his face buried in his pillow, dark curls a tangled mess, lips pouted and eyes staying shut; the muscles of his bare back loose and relaxed.

“Pleeeease,” you try again. 

He sighs and groans exaggeratedly as he turns on his back—his face scrunches adorably when he tries to adjust his eyes to the light. 

“What is it?” He grumbles and rubs his fist against his eyes. 

“Wait wait wait hold on,” you scramble for the last piece, slipping it carefully over your head, and when you speak it’s filtered, “Now!”

How Din could ever see in this damn thing, you will never know and maybe that is just you, but at least you can still make out the confused furrow of his brows before the grin overshadows it; you want to kiss the crinkles and the dimple that never fails. 

“I’m you now!” You throw your covered arms outstretched; you didn’t slip on every piece of the armor, the man wears a lot, but what you do have on is heavy enough. 

Din’s shoulders shake with quiet laughter as he leans up on his elbow, tilting his head at you curiously. 

“Is that what all that ruckus was about?” He asks. 

“Yessss,” you drawl sheepishly. 

Curls bounce with a shake of his head. “You’re such a dork.”

“Yeah but I’m your dork,” you counter with a lace of pride. 

“C’mere.”

You take the short steps to the cot and take his outstretched hand, yelping when he pulls you down. “Hey!”

“Oh stop,” he teases. “Although I gotta say, it is a look.”

He slaps a loud kiss on the visor where your mouth would be, making you giggle, and follows with pressing his forehead against yours, briefly closing his eyes; yours automatically do the same. 

Silent seconds pass by and if it weren’t for the helmet, you would be sharing the same breaths right now. Still in this, there is peace—a quiet stillness that used to be so foreign for the Mandalorian. 

“It’s a really good look,” Din continues, voice deeper than before. You know where this is going. 

“Yeah?” Your voice sounds oddly through the modulator. “Why don’t you undress me then?”

The growl is instantaneous. So is the gentle yank of your arm, bringing you fully down so he can roll you onto your back, slanting his body perfectly against yours. With your help he pulls the helmet over your head and gives you a proper kiss, nipping at your lips until you open up to him; his tongue explores your mouth 

“Should I fuck you like this?” Din grunts above you, each word hitting your open mouth. “In my armor? Fuck—” he shudders and slowly grinds his hips against yours, letting you feel the growing bulge in his pants. 

The idea had never crossed your mind before and honestly? It turns you on more than you care to admit. 

“Yes,” you gasp, grinding up into his slow thrusts. 

He trails his lips over your cheek, down your jawline, where he gives you a few nibbles, and finally to your neck. You tilt your head to the side to give him more access, moaning softly when he brushes against your pulse point. 

Then without warning he reaches for your sweet spot and bites down, cupping your jaw to keep you in place as you cry out and arch into him. 

“O-oh kriff,” your voice trembles, arousal pooling deep in your core. “Din—” you pull him up by a small tug of his hair and capture his lips in a clash of spit and teeth, speaking in between pecks. “—just. Fuck. Me. Need. You.”

“Y-yeah,” his hands shuffle in between your slithering bodies, unclasping the button to your pants with liquid ease. “Can’t wait either.”

You help him pull your undergarments down and off your legs, immediately going towards his and palming him with a sultry twinkle in your eyes. He sucks in a breath and stutters in your grasp. 

“If I’d known wearing this would do this to you I would’ve done this a while ago,” you chuckle, giving him another quick squeeze. 

“Fuck, please?” He gasps, rutting in your hand. 

Deciding to be merciful you pull his pants down far enough so that his cock springs free, slapping against his stomach; your mouth waters at the sight. 

Din pushes you down before you can even think of tasting him, muffling your whine of protest with a greedy kiss; his cock brushes against your bare sex and fuck the shiver that runs through you and directly to where you’re aching for him, positively pulsing with a starving need. 

“Ready?” He asks, lining himself up. 

You wrap your arms around his shoulders and nod, taking a deep breath just before he sloooowly pushes in, filling you inch by thick inch to the brim until you’re so full. 

“Din!” You exhale. 

He gives you a moment to adjust, laying nips and hard sucks on your neck, reaching the hand that isn’t gripping tightly to your thigh down to slide underneath your shirt. 

“Move,” you plea. 

He pulls back so only the tip is inside and slams back into you with a soft grunt, holding himself up with his fists. You let out a strangled moan, the rest of it caught in your throat with the second hard thrust that racks your body upwards. 

Din doesn’t hold back, using almost every bit of weight he has, driving into you with a beginning frenzy. 

“You like that?” He snarls gruffly. “Feel me fucking you s-so deep—maker.”

You writhe under him, not a coherent thought crossing your brain, nor a complete, full breath—he feels fucking amazing, hitting every sweet spot inside you with abundant persistence until your muscles start to tense and shake and heat builds in your stomach.

“I’m gonna c-cum,” you stammer, digging your fingers in his forearms.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Din huffs, slamming his hips harder and deeper into you. “Wait for me.”

It’s so fucking hard to when he’s fucking you like this; grunting and moaning above you, tiny beads of sweat slinking down his chest, towards the apex where a small patch of hair trails down to his cock, driving in and out—slamslamslam and you feel him throbbing and now he’s touching you, applying the right pressure—oh...

“Cum,” his neck strains red as his hips clap against your thighs and lose their steady rhythm. “Cum now.”

Another three thrusts and you do. Hard and long, dragged out by the sweet drag of his cock and then he buries himself deep, cumming inside you and letting out the most obscene mix of a grunt and growl you’ve ever heard come out of him.

Din rolls his hips once, then twice in a lazy circle before collapsing on you, hugging you to him. After a few moments he pulls out of you with a hiss from him and a wince from you; his cum dribbles out of you and your face scrunches at the feeling.

“That—” Din pants, plopping himself down next to you. “—That, is something we’re definitely exploring.”

“what if i had been a mandalorian?” the words came out of nowhere, blindsiding both you and din. the vibrant blues and violets of hyperspace reflected against his helmet as it whipped around to look at you in befuddlement. the ship’s silence had been peaceful prior to your outburst, the child asleep in his hammock and the two of you simply enjoying each other’s company.

you didn’t need to see din’s face to know that he was giving you a dead stare. the thoughts circulating behind it, however, were a mystery. “i’m serious! what if i had been in your covert and we met each other that way?” it was a thought you entertained from time to time. what if you had met din sooner? would you have had more time to get to know him, love him, and show him the love he gave you? maybe it would have taken him less time to open up, giving you more years of a relationship under your belts.

it sure would have saved you plenty of time wasted on those who weren’t worth their weight in beskar. a few heartbreaks, an ugly attempt to bring you in for credits, and more could have been avoided had you just met din earlier. it would have meant more nights spent in his arms, more hyperspace jumps holding his hand from the copilot’s seat, just more din.

your mandalorian contemplates the question for a moment. you can see the gears turning in his head as he runs through the scenario you presented with the attention to detail you’ve come to know from him. the ship hums in the background, the galaxy zooming around you and bringing more light into the mostly dark cockpit.

“if you had been in the covert, i don’t think we’d be together now.” he must have been taking lessons on how to ruin someone’s day because damn did that hurt. part of you wants to leave and stew about his harsh response in privacy, but the rest of you is curious about how he would spin this. looking at your face and hearing your humph of indignation, he realizes that he needs to explain quick or else risk bringing your fury down upon him,

“everything we’ve gone through, with and without each other, has made us who we are now. had you been in the covert, you would have missed many formative events that made you into the one i claim as my riduur.” your eyebrows raise at his explanation. you know that he’s not wrong in the slightest, but it doesn’t feel as reassuring as you had hoped. “there are times i wish that i had known to save myself for you, to let you be the one i shared my firsts with. but then it wouldn’t quite be me you would be getting.”

he takes off his gloves and you’re wondering where exactly he’s going with this. “see the tattoo you’re so fond of?” he points to the small target and you give him a deadpan look. of course you see it, you love to hold his hands and place a soft kiss on the target like it’s telling where you need to plant your lips to get the best smile. “i got that in my early twenties while i rode with a group of bandits. why else would you kiss that spot if the target wasn’t there?”

it’s slowly starting to make sense to you, but he continues his explanation. “and this scar here? i wouldn’t have gotten it from our first meeting if i had met you in any other way, in any other time than when i did.” he nudges the skin on the top of his other hand, a jagged scar that had been a wound sealed by a cauterizer a permanent reminder of how you met din.

“so what you’re saying,” you begin, grabbing both of his hands and kissing ink and scar tissue reverently. “is that if we had met any other way, than it wouldn’t truly be us.”

“you learn quick, ner riduur.” you can hear the smile in din’s voice through the modulator. “and if you had been anywhere else but that cantina the day we met, there’s a good chance that i’d have died that day, and then where would we be?”

you lean out of your chair just enough to give din a playful shove, the mock offense evident in the scoff you made. “so it was suddenly lucky that i was barfed on by that drunk togruta? vomit isn’t lucky in any culture that i know of.” his laugh makes your heart sing, the joy contagious as you began to join his laughter.

it takes a few moments for the both of you to regain your composure. you can always tell when din’s about to grow serious. his shoulders square and his back shoots up ramrod straight, giving himself the posture of a king. “i might not have been in many of the firsts you’ve had in your life, but i aim to be part of your lasts for as long as you let me.”

“i’m gonna hold you to that, din.”

“i would expect nothing less from you.”