Claire Keane
roma★
macklin celebrini has autism
⁂
Stranger Things
Three Goblin Art
we're not kids anymore.
$LAYYYTER
if i look back, i am lost
hello vonnie
Andulka
AnasAbdin
Kiana Khansmith
PR's Tumblrdome
almost home
titsay
🪼
dirt enthusiast
Love Begins
祝日 / Permanent Vacation
seen from Switzerland
seen from Saudi Arabia
seen from United States
seen from Peru
seen from Bangladesh
seen from Argentina
seen from Türkiye
seen from Bulgaria
seen from Morocco
seen from Morocco
seen from Morocco
seen from Morocco
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Brazil
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
@estmanifestum
We need to let adults fight without catching an assault charge...like I'm talking about consensual fighting. Not jumping folks, hiding no weapons none of that. Just going at it in the parking lot
@stsathyre looking kinda dire out here :////
PvP areas
hey why the fuck is the map like that
alternate timeline where america is run by bees
They'd do an excellent job
Hey how come the truck automatically locks when it explodes and bursts into flames
hey how come elon musk can remotely unlock any tesla vehicle
He ly how come elon musk has access to security footage of you charging your car
do not, under any circumstances, buy a fucking tesla
csuuuszkalnak
they sure do
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[Image Description: the "silence, brand" image followed by twelve pictures of Unown spelling out the words "kung pow penis" letter by letter, followed by a gif of Zorua exploding an offscreen opponent. Each image is posted by a different person. End ID.]
Media preservation. Thank you catgirldragon
touch starved mandalorian……. touch starved din djarin……. touch starved din djarin who doesn’t take off his armor at all the first time you sleep together……….. touch starved din djarin who finally takes off his gloves to touch you……….. touch starved din djarin who practically whimpers at the idea of your hands exploring his skin……… touch starved din djarin who freaks you out when all the lights are turned off in the room and then you hear his voice without the filter of his helmet, explaining that he wants his lips on you………….. touch starved din djarin who lets you kiss and touch and caress his face…………. touch starved din djarin who’s face you make maps of in your mind, simply by touching him.,,,,,, meow.
☆Kinktober 2024☆
Day 2: Thigh riding
Pairing: Din Djarin x f!Reader
Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI!!!!) thigh riding, little bit of dirty talk, this came out so much fluffier than I'd intended but I'm not mad about it, if I missed anything please let me know!
He didn’t turn to look at you when you walked into the cockpit—didn’t so much as flinch when he heard your steps on the metal floor. He could see your reflection in the transparisteel, your soft shape reflecting off the canopy of the cockpit and into his visor.
“Mesh’la…” He breathed it through the modulator. You smiled as you closed the gap between yourself and him; wrapping you body around the back of his chair, splaying your hands on his chest and joining him in looking into the nothingness of hyperspace.
“How did you know it was me and not the kid?” You leaned your head against his helmet.
He didn’t respond, but you had a feeling that somewhere under all the metal, he was smiling.
“You know, sometimes I worry that you have the same freaky powers that he does.” You continued, dragging your hands over the armor on his abdomen. You knew he couldn’t feel it, but it was more for your own benefit.
“Why is that?” Even through the modulator, you could hear the gravelly amusement in his voice.
“You know too much.” You smiled, removing yourself from him to stand in his line of sight.
“Do I?”
He was goading you, in his own way. Maybe to someone else it would seem like the vague, brief response typical of a Mandalorian, but you knew he was working towards something. And it made you falter just a bit.
“Sometimes…” You shrugged, the shy smile on your face was directed towards your feet as you spoke.
“Just because I know you well, doesn’t mean I know too much.” He still hadn’t moved, letting you stew in uncertainty and the glare of the gaze you couldn’t see.
There was a pause then. You considered the weight of his words.
He was right. He did know you well. Your scent, your touch, your taste—he knew it all, better than anybody else ever had.
But beyond that, he recognized what you wanted, how you wanted it, even when it was something simple and would be, to many, seemingly unnecessary.
It just startled you to have someone—especially someone like Din—put in the effort.
“Did you come up here for something?” He broke the silence, pulling you back in.
“You weren’t in bed. I just figured you’d be here.” You played with your hands. “How long are we going to stay in hyperspace?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where are we going?”
“We’ll see.”
“Ok,” you nodded, and despite his apparent standoffishness, you knew it was just Din being Din. It was simply how he was.
You knew he’d crawl back into bed eventually, when the thoughts stopped racing and he could take the time to appreciate your weight and heat against him.
You turned to leave, and he finally decided to move.
“Mesh’la,” his hand caught you by the stomach, forcing you to hang back. You looked down at him, bringing your hand up to cradle his. “Come.”
You took a step back, rounding the chair to stand in front of him. He spread his legs, situating himself comfortably and easing you into a straddle over one of his thighs. You leaned into his chest, resting your head in the crook of his neck.
“You don’t want to sit and enjoy the quiet?” You asked, almost rhetorically, “Just look at the stars pass by on your own?”
You felt his hand come to rest on your lower back before he dragged it down over the curve of your ass and began to knead gently over your bed clothes.
“You came here for something.” It wasn’t a question this time. His hand swept upward, palm pressing into your back to force your body flush against him.
“Did I?” You held out, if only for a moment longer, just to see where it would get you. “You’re the one who knows me so well. You’ll have to be specific…”
He craned his neck to lean his forehead against yours, and his helmet pushed into your skin in a manner almost verging tenderness.
“Move your hips, mesh’la.” It was all he said before leaning back, removing his hands from you and opting to simply watch on.
“Din…” You whined, but your halfhearted protest didn’t stop you from doing as he said. You swayed your hips over his thigh, sliding over his armor and wrapping your hands around his neck.
He didn’t say anything, but his head tilted back slightly.
“I can’t,” you tried to argue, tried to get him to take pity on you so that he would put in the work and let you feel him. “Please—too smooth, it’s not enough.”
“Doesn’t seem to be stopping you from trying.” He growled, and he was right; you continued to grind your hips against him in a desperate attempt to find the friction you needed.
Your pleas caught in your throat, morphing into a whimper.
“You complain every time,” Din caved only a little, placing a hand on your hip, thumb brushing the dimple where your thigh met your abdomen, “But what always happens?”
You moaned into his neck, letting the metal that adorned him amplify your sounds.
“What always happens?” He pressed on, slowly beginning to push and pull on your hips in an attempt to help you.
“I cum,” you whispered it, a dirty secret meant just for him. “I always cum for you.”
He let out a deep hum, and you complied with the pressure his fingers dug into your skin; slowing your movements and allowing him to set the pace as he dragged you across the beskar.
“Relax,” it was a command, one you obeyed immediately as you melted against him, giving in completely to his hands on your body and letting him put in the work for you. Arms still slung over his shoulders, you hands fell lower on his back, searching for purchase.
You could feel your slick coating his leg beneath you, the raw chill of the hardware that protected him absorbing your heat and making for a smoother ride. He pushed your hips back, tilting you forward and ensuring that your clit felt the stimulation of his thigh beneath you with every tug of your body towards him.
“Din—” Your mewl was barely audible beneath the thrum of the ship surrounding you, but he heard you.
He knew.
He raised his leg slightly, pushing it up with his toes and flexing under the beskar to give him the leverage to push you down hard against him.
You came with a weak gasp, clawing at his back and letting your fingernails drag lazily over his armor. He gently paralleled your movements, gloved hands rubbing shapes into your back.
Your head felt light, but your limbs rested heavy as you sagged against him.
“Wasn’t so hard.” His hands stopped moving, coming to rest on your thighs where they were still spread around his leg.
“Only because you helped,” you sighed, “Only because it’s you.”
That earned you a squeeze, possessive but chaste, where his hand sat on your leg. You squeaked out a happy response.
You began to stir after a few minutes, the slick between your legs creating a gluey tension between your bodies.
“I should check on him,” you started to move, separating yourself from Din, “If he’s up, he’ll be hungry.”
Your attempts to stand were thwarted as Din wrapped an arm around your waist. “He’s still asleep.”
“How do you know?” You let him pull you back towards him, repositioning you to straddle his waist rather than just one leg.
“Freaky powers.” Din’s visor bore into you, and for a moment you felt like you could see his eyes—big and brown, just as he had described them to you.
You laughed, the intimacy and his wit sparking something deep within you, as it always did, and your body came to rest again, slumped against him.
“Stay, cyar’ika.” The quiet request only served to magnify the feeling he’d sparked inside you.
“Don’t have to beg, Din,” you grinned, lips creating streaks on his armor and your breath fogged the metal on his chest. “I will.”
push & pull
5.7k | din djarin x f!reader
summary: after convincing him to help you hide from the guild, you teach mando how to enjoy himself. this is the way. warnings: smut (duh), 18+, mdni. canon-typical violence, but otherwise it's super canon divergent. din is a touch-starved virgin, soft touches, lap-sitting, the helmet stays on, mask kink, din does lots of whimpering, experienced!reader, mutual masturbation, virginity loss (m), praise kink, creampie, brief aftercare at the end. note: look me in the eye and tell me he wouldn't crumble at the thought of skin-to-skin contact. yeah. you can't. anyways this is so long and so self-indulgent. pls forgive me. if mando takes his helmet off by the end of this, mind ur business this is sooooo not canon. note p.2: i'm so sorry this took so long but i was hungover. also this was not meant to be this long. so count this as a big fat thank you for 1.4k as well as my bday present to you guys (for my bday.) impaired editing i apologize.
With the light of both suns in your eyes, forcing you to blink the spots from your vision, you brushed a hand across your forehead. The dry, dusty atmosphere of Tatooine was no joke, and you scowled under the cloth you'd brought with you to cover your mouth and nose.
"Figures," you mumbled to yourself, looking down to see a small pile of sand building on the tops of your boots, the wind blowing it into place. "Why would anyone choose to live here?"
Of course, you weren't looking for a resident; you were looking for a fugitive. The infamous Mandalorion, no less. You'd been given less-than-satisfactory information on the bounty hunter and the reasons for such a high reward for his capture, but it wasn't like you had much choice than to accept the job. Despite what you told yourself, you did actually need the money.
That was before you'd figured out that everyone else in the Guild had been tasked with the same job, turning a high stakes bounty hunting gig into a near-definite suicide mission. Something you didn't want anything to do with.
But alas, here you stood, practically sinking into the hot Tatooine desert. You had to keep shifting your weight to keep at least one foot above the surface. You never knew when you'd have to make a quick getaway. There were still a handful of Guild members left that presented a challenge to collecting your bounty, and of course they were the most dangerous ones.
You kicked a foot forward and watched the sand shift, cursing the trouble that was inevitably on its way. You'd managed to bribe your way to Tatooine, where the Mandalorian was apparently hiding from the Guild. And if you had found the Mandalorian, there was almost no possibility that the others hadn't found him.
Because, if you were being honest with yourself—the one task you excelled in—being a bounty hunter wasn't exactly something you were good at. In fact, you were far from it. With luck and just enough anxiety to keep your feet moving, you'd floundered your way through three years in the Guild, searching for a way out just as quickly as you'd begged for a way in.
So you'd gotten yourself into this mess. Wasn't that how it normally went, though? Quick decision-making skills weren't necessarily a blessing if the decisions you made would determine your chances of living past thirty (spoiler: the chances were significantly slimmer).
You rubbed the dust out of your eyes once more and saw some movement in the distance, the subtle glint of beskar blinking toward you as it reflected the sunlight. Gotcha, you murmured inwardly. The Mandalorian was here, and you were going to get him. Not to turn him in, no; you held no loyalty to the Guild and its cult-like policies.
This job was an escape mission. If he could stay hidden, maybe he had room for one more. You'd cut a deal.
There had to be something you could offer him, if not your skills in combat, or stealth, or—
Or simply human mobility, you groaned inwardly as you felt your ankle roll underneath you, the sand softer than you'd anticipated. It'll be a good day when I leave this damn place.
—
It was a wonder that the two of you had survived. You'd hardly gotten the chance to give your proposal before he was aiming his blaster at you, and then at the Guild members that showed up in droves behind you. It was all you could do to get out of the way, knowing you'd be hopeless in the fight.
Now, with their bodies scattered around your feet, the Mandalorian standing a few feet from you with his chest heaving, and his beloved ship somehow still functional, you had your chance.
"You're not...very good at this," he said, the helmet masking his voice in a way that made it scratch along the insides of your ears as it traveled to your brain. "You do know that?" he asked, but it sounded more like an accidental insult than a real question.
You threw your hands up, letting them fall heavily to your sides. "Yeah, I told you that," you scoffed. "That's why I'm asking to go with you. Wherever you're headed."
His head tilted, the beskar shining in the setting suns, and you wondered what his eyes looked like under that helmet. Would they be sparkling with mirth or lined with mockery?
"I thought you were kidding," he said sheepishly, shifting his weight. "To get me to underestimate you." He looked like the picture of careful relaxation, although his blaster was still held tightly in both hands, poised in case he needed to aim and fire.
You couldn't help the exasperation in your tone as you lifted your head to the sky, squeezing your eyes shut and placing a curled fist over your eyes. "Why would I do that when I don't want to turn you in?"
He didn't answer.
"You know that there's only two ways out of this, right?" He still didn't answer you, just held his blaster taut and his head tilted to the side, so you continued. "You killed every Guild member that's left. Now it's just you and I. If I don't bring you in—which I'm not exactly dying to do—those rich fucks that are more powerful than us are gonna come find us."
"Find you," he corrected. "Why would I want to add another target to my ship?"
You shrugged. "Yeah, they probably will. But that's only part of the first option. Either they come for me, and you leave me here, and I die—also something I'm not particularly thrilled to think about—or the two of us..." you gestured with your hands to imitate the pair of you getting on the Razor Crest and flying away from Tatooine and its dusty expanse of a landscape.
"Could be a third option," he said quietly, "if you think about it." He lifted his blaster until it was lined up with your chest. "I might just kill you and cut my losses."
Fear might have struck you, but you didn't have the energy to entertain the panic unspooling in your chest. "That wouldn't be very humanitarian of you. Besides," you insisted, hands lifting to portray the image of surrender, "I'm light. I'm quiet. I won't stay with you longer than I need to. Once you get me off this planet, I'll find a place for you to drop me off."
He didn't answer for a moment.
"Literally," you pushed once more, "you can open the back door and push me out for all I care. I just want out of the Guild and all their dumb shit."
You'd known Mandalorians to be quiet, pious, and ruthless, but something about the way his helmet betrayed no hint to what he was thinking or how he might respond...it made you more anxious than you'd ever been in your life. Finally, he spoke, his voice calm. "Well...you're not coming with me. Ship's full."
"Your ship?" you said, incredulous. "That thing would be gone without me."
"Damn luck, that was." His voice had gone hard, but his body was still.
This was...partially true. Your mind flashed with a memory of the way you'd accidentally pulled the trigger on one of your blasters, effectively stunning the last Guild member who'd been attempting to strap explosives to the hull of the Crest. It was the only good thing that you'd done all day.
You curled your lip, annoyance rippling off you in waves. Lifting a middle finger in front of the helmet, you scowled. Hope he can see this under all that beskar, you snarled inwardly. "Still counts."
With a soft huff that you could hear come from under his helmet, the Mandalorian lowered his blaster. "One jump into hyperspace. The first little space rock that's big enough to stand on—"
"Perfect," you interrupted firmly. "I'll be out of you...armor...soon enough."
—
You'd missed your stop about three years ago. One jump into hyperspace had turned into four, and then ten, and...now you had your own spot to rest your head at night on the Razor Crest.
On that first day, you hadn't known the Mandalorian—"Din Djarin," he'd introduced himself reluctantly one day—was still traveling with Grogu, the sweet child that had begun his journey across the galaxy, hiding from the Guild. But you'd quickly decided it was nice to have another partner in crime, to interact with whenever Din was in the middle of one of his quiet days.
As the days had turned into months, and subsequently into years, the inability to meet Din face-to-face had become less frustrating, although sometimes you wished you could sneak a glance at his hands, or his wrists, or something that might resemble the human underneath the armor.
Once in awhile, deliciously, you could tilt your head just the right way and look forward at him when he was in the cockpit, his helmet pulling away from the cloth under his armor. Between helmet and armor, a sliver of golden skin would glimmer back at you, just begging to be touched. Of course, you never gave in to your silent desires.
This was not the Mandalorian way; you knew this well. Even when you felt his head turned toward you, even when you were sure his hands were reaching for you when you needed his help climbing somewhere, you kept your distance.
Well, for as long as you could. Until he forced your hand.
It wasn't long before you were unable to keep your hands away from him; going up and down the ladder on the Crest, or climbing over the occasional boulder on the routes you walked along when forced to take a respite on an unknown planet. His gloves were always rough in your grip, but you couldn't ignore the way his hands seemed to squeeze yours, tighter than might have been necessary.
And you'd begun letting your hands linger on the beskar of his armor for moments longer than you should—his helmet, tracing the indented curves of the spot where his cheekbones rested underneath, or on his chestplate, where you swore you could feel him lean into you, as if pressing your hands closer and closer to his skin beneath the armor.
You stood beside him as he sat in the chair in the cockpit, guiding the Razor Crest through the galaxy once more, aiming for some undisclosed location he'd neglected to tell you. He usually did things like that; you'd learned not to be offended by his unbreakable instinct to keep things to himself.
It hadn't occurred to you just how long he'd been wearing that helmet until you looked toward him again and noticed the soft curl of a few brown strands of hair that crept from the edges, kissing the back of his neck. They were short strands, but they were long enough to wink up at you as they curled around each other, begging to be touched.
"Din?" you asked, hoping to distract yourself from the thought.
He didn't look at you, but he tilted his head in your direction, just a centimeter. It was enough.
"Why'd you let me stay with you?" you gripped your hands together, as if they had a mind of their own and couldn't be trusted to remain at your sides. "I was horrible at any aspect of being a bounty hunter."
You were used to the way that it always took him a few seconds to answer, coming up with an evenly-expressed response. This, of course, gave you more time to stare at the tendrils spilling from the edges of his helmet.
"You were a risk," he admitted with a shrug, the helmet (of course) not betrayed anything. His voice was calm, even as he continued softly. "I have a particular...proclivity for picking up foundlings," he said with a tilt of his head toward Grogu, who cooed at the mention of him.
You lifted an eyebrow. "I'm not a foundling, though."
If you could have seen his eyes, you were almost positive that they'd be giving you a look that said, are you sure? Instead, he only spoke in his perpetually smooth voice. "You were lost, though, mesh'la."
You still weren't sure what each word in Mando'a meant—he'd been dropping a few words here and there, as if he knew you couldn't interpret them—but you blushed all the same. Before you knew it, your hands were releasing their grip on one another and reaching up to comb through the curls at the base of his neck.
They were softer than you'd imagined; smooth and thick in your grip. "Alright," you said gently, "maybe I was. I never got to thank you, you know."
Your hands were moving on their accord now, silently twirling the curls around the tips of your fingers. You were used to his silent, immobile exterior, so you didn't think he'd be able to feel the way you pressed your hand to the back of his neck. He'd never said anything before that gave the impression that he was aware of your ministrations, so when he leaned back into your touch then, something strong and addiction bloomed in your gut.
When he spoke, you were surprised to hear how shaky his voice was. After three years of hearing nothing but steady syllables fall from his masked lips, you nearly flinched at the stutter in his voice.
"Thank me?" he said quietly. "For..." you could have sworn you felt his heartbeat flutter rapidly in his neck when he trailed off. "For what?"
You pulled your hand away, pretending not to notice the way he shuddered at the loss of touch, his shoulders slumping as if in a pained relaxation. You hid your smirk. "You're not seriously asking that, right? Without you, I'd probably be dead by now." Or worse, you reflected with a quiet pang in your chest.
Din's response was quick this time, an unusual—but not unwelcome—surprise. "And without your perfectly timed luck, I might be without a ship." His voice was thick, trembling with something that might have sounded like desire had it been someone else speaking.
You didn't even think Din had the capacity to know something as heavy as desire. Well, not that he was incapable of feeling desire, just...you'd never thought about what he might do if he did feel it. Would he shove the temptations down, destined to die in the corners of his mind and body?
Your cheeks warmed at your next thought. Perhaps he took care of it himself in the dead of night on the Razor Crest, or on those mysteriously long patrol walks that he insisted on doing alone.
"Yeah, well..." your answer was pitiful and you knew it. But you were too busy looking at the way his body was slumped in his seat, facing forward despite every limb beginning to turn toward you, as if you were a magnetic beacon.
His fingers twitched in his gloves, angling toward you just as his knees began to do the same thing. "Will you..." he trailed off, clearing his throat awkwardly. "Mesh'la," he breathed, and he leaned to the side, as if his shoulder was chasing your touch. "Put it back."
You were going to ask what he meant, but you didn't have to. Even with his helmet on, you could practically see the pleading in his body language. Here he was, a devout Mandalorian, begging you to put your hands back on him.
"Please," he said quietly, almost a question. It sounded so unlike him that you wondered briefly if he'd been killed and replaced with an imposter. But by the way that his hand trembled as he took his focus away from flying the Crest and moved it toward you...this was Din.
"You...okay?" you asked, but you obliged his request in return, replacing your hand at the base of his neck. You watched in an unfurling dizzying sense of satisfaction as he reached up his own gloved hand to cover yours, squeezing it gently. "Din," you started, but he shook his head.
"I've never disobeyed the Way of the Mandalore," he said, his voice muffled under the mask. You strained your eyes, wishing you could see beneath the beskar. "I've never wanted to. Not before..." he brought your hand around to rest on his chestplate, and you could feel the pressure of his chest leaning into your touch. "Not before I knew what it might feel like to want someone like this."
Your eyes widened, but you didn't pull your hand away. "You...what?"
His head tilted down. "For once, I don't know how to manage this." He stood up, and suddenly he was towering over you, the cloth under his armor making your fingers itch to tear it off. "How do I manage this?"
"I..." you couldn't hide your shock. "I don't know. It's...isn't it against your religion? It's not the Way."
Din shook his head. "No, it's not." He spread his hand down your wrist and extended it toward your own chest, the leather of his glove seeping into your skin. "But I've also never told anyone my name. Never heard it spoken since I was a child."
You swallowed roughly. "So?"
He huffed a chuckle. Lifting your hands to his helmet, he let your fingers find the divots of the beskar. You didn't miss the way his chest shuddered with a stuttering breath at your touch. "So," he said, "to hell with the Way. For tonight, at least. I need to know you in every way I wish I could."
Such a harrowing request, given the circumstances. But you couldn't stop your hands from tracing the lines of his masked face. "Din..."
"Please." His voice cracked over the single syllable, and it was all you needed.
To hell with the Way, your thoughts echoed his words, and you nodded softly. "Alright," you acquiesced. With one look down, you saw the tent growing in his pants, sending a spike of desire down your spine, settling in your core. "How'll you have me?" you asked.
He let out a soft noise that sounded like a whimper. "Any way that I can," he choked out, his hand returning to your wrist and enclosing it in his grip. "I'll have you any way you'll have me."
You could hardly speak, so you didn't. With a gentle nudge, you pushed him back into his seat. When he sat back, his legs fell open; there was an inviting space between them.
Standing in the spot, just inches from his face, you stared into the black mass of his helmet, hoping you'd get a glimpse of his face. Of course, you knew he would only go as far as he wanted to. If the mask was destined to remain, then...so be it.
With your eyes on his, you moved his hands to your waist, pressing them to your skin and enjoying the feeling of his leather against your body.
He shook his head. "Take them off," he said, again with that whimpering voice. "Please."
You nodded wordlessly and shed his hands of the barriers, heat pooling in your core at the sight of long, thick fingers, his skin finally exposed to you. Returning his hands to your waist, you tilted your head back at the sensation. You were never going to forget what his skin felt against yours.
The melody of shuddering breaths that fell from his lips was unreal, and you wanted to soak up every second of it. Without more than a second thought, you slid your legs over his, straddling his hips and pressing your chest to his chestplate. His hands remained on your waist, but he let them wander, curling them around to cup your ass.
The feeling of his hands on your body made you unconsciously roll your hips forward, which released a strangled moan from his lips. "Oh, god," he mumbled. "Mesh'la, please take it off."
You paused. Your hands fell to your lap, and your eyes were wider than saucers in the reflection of his helmet. "What?"
He picked up your hands in his own, the rub of skin against skin an intoxicating intimacy. "Please," he begged. "If I'm going to touch you like this, I need to see you, cyar'ika. Nothing in the way."
You were going to argue further, but you couldn't ignore the pulsing need that was clouding your thoughts, the same need that pushed your hips further down into his lap. It was impossible to miss the way his cock twitched against your clit, eliciting a soft moan from your lips.
“Are you—”
“Don’t fuckin’ ask me if I’m sure,” he begged, and he squeezed your hips under his hands. “Never been more sure, mesh’la.”
This time it was your turn to let out a shaky breath. “Okay,” you whispered, more to bolster your own confidence than his own. His resolve was clearly rather strong in this matter, and nothing would change his mind.
With a hand on either side of the helmet, you gently pulled it up and away from his face, hardly able to believe that he’d agreed to let you rid him of his every barrier. For a moment, as each inch of skin was revealed to you, you caught yourself frantically wondering what he might look like.
Would he look like anyone else? Would he look familiar to you in that way that only lovers can? Or would he be hiding a deformed brow bone or an abnormally small nose or a crude smile?
Of course, you shouldn’t have even worried. When the helmet lifted off of his head and you let it fall to the floor with a hard thud, you smiled at the face that blinked back at you in wonder. With those brown strands that were just long enough to hang down over his forehead, and the matching brown eyes that twinkled with the moonlight in his pupils, Din Djarin was exquisite.
“I knew it,” you hummed, your eyes tracing every line on his face, every strand of hair that clung charmingly to his forehead.
His response was a strangled moan, and his eyes fluttered closed of their own accord when you dragged a finger along his jaw, then the hooked line of his nose. “Knew what?”
“I knew you’d be one of the pretty ones,” you grinned, and you leaned down to press your lips to his, swallowing his groan of ecstasy.
You drank it down like the sweetest liquor, the sound pulling your own moan from your chest. His lips were chapped and dry from lack of care, but his mouth was warm and wet and his tongue was deliciously shy as he darted it towards yours. His hands stuttered as they pressed further up your chest and felt for your breasts. You weren’t sure how long he’d last; his chest was already heaving.
“Din,” you pulled back with a grin. “Din,” you repeated when his eyes remained closed. “Thought you wanted to look at me?”
“I do,” he said, his voice choking in his throat. “I do, mesh’la, I just…I think I might come in my damn suit if I look at those lips too long.”
You cooed, letting a hand search for the roots of his hair, finding a home on his scalp. You curled your fingers in the strands and watched his eyes squeeze shut, his jaw go slack, and felt his hips buck up into yours. “You’re so sensitive, baby,” you hummed, your mind running wild with thoughts of what this could mean.
“Never been touched like this,” he mumbled, voice cracking again. “Feels perfect, mesh’la.”
“I need you to look at me, Din,” you nodded. “It’ll keep feeling good, I promise. I just need you to look at me.”
When his eyes opened, you could have fallen apart right there at the sight of his glassy brown depths. His lip quivered and you almost thought he’d cry, but then he was letting his hand fall from your chest to your waistband, trailing his thumb along the skin there. “Can I?” he asked gently.
Nodding, you stood up. “Just keep breathing, pretty boy,” you said softly. “I’ll make you feel good. Show you just how good it can be.” You guided his hands to your waist and let him pull your pants to your ankles, revealing the front of your glistening slit to him.
Din was just starting to understand the drug-like effects of physical touch, so you weren’t surprised when he leaned forward, fell to his knees, and pressed his forehead to the soft skin of your stomach, breathing deeply as if he were a zealot bent to pray at the altar.
“C’mere,” you whispered, though unable to hide the growing smirk on your face. There seemed to be nothing more addicting than the sight of the Mandalorian on his knees before you. “Sit back down for me, baby,” you said, tilting his chin up to look at you. “Take those pants off, they look awfully restricting.”
He nodded quickly and obeyed, slipping his pants down to his knees as he sat back on his chair. It was downright sinful—the beskar on his chest but his helmet removed and his cock springing free, the tip red and angry and leaking. “Please,” he begged. “I—”
“I know,” you breathed, stepping closer to him. “We’re gonna make each other feel good now, yeah?”
Din nodded once more, his eyes fluttering shut. “Please, please.”
Well, how were you going to deny him then?
You straddled him once more, your clit throbbing at the sight of his cock underneath you. But rather than shock him with the feeling of your pussy milking him for all he was worth, you hovered over him, just enough that the head of his cock lay just an inch from your entrance.
“Mesh’la,” he begged, “please don’t tease. I’ll be good. I’ll make you feel good, I swear to everything I’ve ever believed in—”
A finger pressed to his lips, you shook your head. “I know,” you repeated. “Deep breaths for me, Din.”
He inhaled sharply and shoved his breath out of his chest. For a moment, his eyes cleared.
“Good,” you encouraged him, relishing in the look of his wide eyes at the praise. “Such a pretty boy, baby.” You moved his hand to your core, guiding his fingers to your clit. “Rub little circles for me, baby. Make me feel good and I’ll make you feel good.”
He obliged quickly, rubbing tentative circles to your clit in a way that had you smiling gently, loving the sacrilege you were participating in. “Is that g—oh!”
Din’s question was interrupted by your hand reaching down to grip his cock, delivering a quick stroke and making his hips stutter. He tried his best to lift his hips from the chair, clearly aiming for your entrance, but one hand on the beskar on his chest had him sitting back.
“It’s okay, baby,” you cooed, “just like that. Just touch me for a while.”
Ever the gentleman, Din kept his eyes on you and his hand on your pussy, pulling sweet sounds from your lips just as you wrecked him beneath you. Your thumb slid against his tip and he almost came; you could tell by the way his breath caught in his throat and his eyes squeezed shut, lip trapped between his teeth.
You wanted his fingers to wander toward your dripping entrance, but you knew he might not last long enough for any more foreplay. Next time, you thought smugly.
Now…now you needed him inside you.
“Gentle, baby,” you reminded him when he gripped your hip too tightly. You didn’t want to tell him you enjoyed the near-bruising strength; that would be for another time. You could already see that you were close to losing him, and you weren’t going to end this experience without riding him until the both of you saw stars. “One more deep breath, yeah?”
He was a mess of tumbling words in Mando’a that you didn’t understand, and his brow was furiously furrowed, as if it was taking all of his focus not to come on your hand. As a matter of fact, it probably was taking all of his focus. “Please, mesh’la,” he said again.
You wondered briefly if you’d begin answering that now; treating it as your name. Mesh’la.
“Deep breath, baby,” you reminded him, and when he obeyed, you sank your hips towards his. The tip of his cock slid in with no resistance; you were wetter than you’d ever been in your life. “Good boy,” you moaned as you kept your hand on his neck, softly cupping the underside of his jaw to look at you. “So fuckin’ pretty like this.”
The stretch of his cock inside you was delicious, and pleasure licked sharply at your insides, begging for a quick release. You knew he wouldn’t be able to hold himself together much longer based on the whimpers that still crumbled from his throat, broken and jagged.
“So fuckin’ pretty?” he repeated, his voice a high squeak. He gripped your hips and threw his head back. “So fuckin’ pretty for you?”
Your breath rushed out of your chest in a strong blow and you had to take a deep breath yourself to calm down. “All for me, Din, that’s it,” you continued, and you lifted your hips up. Dropping them back into his lap, you soaked up the feeling of being filled so completely by his cock. With every shred of patience left in your body, you pushed your lips back to his and tasted his moans on his tongue.
His hips began lifting into your own, the only clue you’d get to his desperation for more. Without a word, you began moving faster, more rhythmically, as you bounced gently on his cock. With the base of his cock pulsing against your clit at every drop of your hips, you were approaching that edge quicker and quicker. “Din,” you moaned, “baby, I’m gonna—”
“Please,” he said, “I want you to feel good, mesh’la. Use me, please, use me, please…”
You were sure your brain short circuited. With no more patience left in your bones, you picked up the pace and chased your own orgasm, knowing he wasn’t far behind. With every squelch of your pussy on his cock, your moans became less coherent, and you leaned your head forward against his neck.
Pulling back to press a kiss to his jaw, you felt his loins tense beneath you. Something nearly snapped inside you at the sound and sight and sensation of his pleasure so close to release; at the knowledge that it was you who had done this to him. “Good,” you mumbled against his jaw, getting closer to his ear. “Pretty boy, just for me,” you mumbled.
Din’s chest tightened and his moans became longer and more high-pitched, true whimpers if you’d ever heard one. “Mesh’la,” he begged, “Mesh’la, I—”
You dipped your head down and, while grinding your hips back and forth on his cock at a feverish pace, you darted your tongue out to his neck. Licking a stripe from the crevice of his neck to the spot just behind the soft part of his ear, you groaned in his ear as you crumbled on him, releasing the tension in your body as you came hard.
Din was ruined beneath you, with his neck bobbing and his eyes shut, his head thrown back. Mouth opened in a wide moan, his voice broken over the sound, you felt his release sink into your fluttering walls. He let out a deep cry of words that you didn’t recognize, but you blushed all the same. With the way that his eyes glossed over when he said it, you were sure it was something that reeked of sin and sweat and sacrilege.
“So good,” you mumbled again, “you’ve done so good for me, Din.” Your face tucked itself into the crook of his neck, and you inhaled the heady scent that belonged only to him. You sat motionless on his lap, but you could still feel his head pulse inside you at the overstimulation. “Did that feel good?” you asked, your hand reaching up to smooth down his hair comfortingly.
He let out a breathless laugh. “If this is sin, I’ll want more of it,” he replied, his arms snaking around your middle to tug your chest closer to him. “I’ll never know how to thank you,” he finished, sighing deeply. His eyes twinkled at you when you pulled away to look at him.
You shook your head. “No need,” you assured him. “Just catch your breath, brave Mandalorian. Then we’ll talk.”
He nodded, his eyelids growing heavier with the expense of energy now catching up with him. His cock had grown soft inside you, but he made no move to lift you from him. “I did well?” he asked. This wasn’t surprising; you’d known him to be quietly confident, but the Mandalorian was never one to pass up the opportunity for someone to reassure his talents.
You grinned and leaned forward to press your lips to his hooked nose, fighting the urge to nip at it with your teeth. Next time, you reminded yourself. “You did well,” you nodded. “Feeling okay?”
He splayed his hands on your back and inhaled near your chest, his face buried into the soft skin of your breasts. “Never better,” he reassured you, rubbing his hands along your spine. “So sweet to me, baby,” he murmured, repeating your own affection back to you.
The two of you remained like that, just wrapped together in a mess of limbs and sweat and come mingling together. When he began to wince with the overstimulation, you lifted off of his cock but remained in his lap. You pulled back and leaned your forehead against his. You watched his lips, plump and sitting perfectly, waiting to be kissed again.
“What does mesh’la mean?” you asked instead, the word strange and unfamiliar on your tongue.
He looked at you for a long time, bringing a finger up to trace the line of your mouth. “Put your lips on mine again and I’ll teach you,” he offered casually, as if his pupils weren’t still blown wide, his eyelashes still fluttering from the power of his release.
You smirked. “This is the Way, huh?”
For once in his life, Din Djarin smiled at you. “This is the Way.”
tysm for reading! so glad to be back, i'm sorry if the smut scene seemed rushed and out of pace! again: i was hungover. pls forgive. lemme know what you think!
adding tags here cause i'm going grocery shopping at 8:30pm BYEEEE
this is a good morning fic for @thetriumphantpanda and the aftercare bit at the end was specifically for @cavillscurls i know u crave it girl
the rest of the taggies: @mingiast @iluvurfather @cupofjoel @morning-star-joy @darkroastjoel @tightjeansjavi @chaotic-mystery @dinsdjrn @huffle-punk @tommymilllers @milly-louise @struig @butiknewyoudlinger @alejaa-a @worhols @thegreat-annamaria @easaud @country2212 @sleepdeprived-feelalived @pertinentpostmortem @lailaispunk
Fifteen Weeks
Din Djarin x Cam Girl Reader AU
Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Summary: It's been fifteen weeks since Din Djarin first entered your life, now you can't imagine it without him. You take a leap of faith in your relationship and visit him at his farm. Warnings: Smut, loss of virginity, face sitting, premature ejaculation, unprotected p in v sex (reader is tested and has an IUD, protect yourselves IRL), mentions of sex work, anxiety, Din is bad at feelings, farmhouse emotions, goats!, yes I made Din Djarin a schnauzer owner don't judge me. Words: 5,050
A/N: Here it is folks, the follow up to Fifteen Minutes, which I originally wrote as a standalone. Thank you to @goodwithcheese for speaking so highly about Fifteen Minutes thus making me revisit this draft and finally finish it. I also want to thank @frannyzooey for taking a look at the bare bones of this months ago. I really love these two and I’m so glad they finally get to eat soup together.
Fifteen Masterlst Masterlist
___
“So, where ya’ headed?” the Uber driver asks, turning toward the departures terminal.
“Just to see a... friend."
“Hm. Must be a special friend to catch a flight this early.”
“I guess he is,” you smile through a yawn.
___
Waiting to board. Can’t wait to finally see you! xxxx🙂
Hitting the send button, you shake your head still finding it hard to believe you’re traveling almost halfway across the country to meet a man. A man you’ve fallen head over heels for.
Can’t wait to see you too. See you soon.
His response arrives just in time. A nervous rush of excitement courses through your body before turning your phone off for departure.
You wonder if your seatmate can feel your leg shake as the nerves tap out against the plane floor. Sure, you’re excited, you’re ready to meet Din in person but there still is trepidation twisting inside of you. You’ve never done anything like this at all. You’ve never met a client and now you’re on a plane headed to one. You’ve known him for only four months, but the connection the two of you share is something you’ve never believed to be something you’d find. You’ve dealt with enough men wearing wedding bands who tell you they love you, that you’re the most beautiful woman they’ve seen, that you’re their whole world. Love is a ridiculous concept when you charge ten dollars a minute.
With Din, it’s different, it’s something that can be named, can be felt, can be solved, and yet so many questions about it remain. What do you call the quiet silence that exists between the two of you, happy to be on the phone keeping each other company every night? The small laugh and head shake he does whenever you tell him he’s cute? The random texts of his life that always brightens your day? The way he nods with zero judgment when he hears the ding of your new client alert? What do you call the decision that got you here on this plane?
You read the same page over and over in your book. Will you sleep in his bed tonight?
You give up on reading and stare forward at the little map on the seat screen. What does he smell like?
You look out the window and watch the clouds disintegrate around you. Is he just as nervous as you?
You turn the volume up and try to drown out your racing thoughts. Will this all be worth it?
Two hours left to find out.
___
You step off the escalator, eyes scanning the crowded baggage claim area for the reason why you’ve taken a six hour flight halfway across the country. Your hands grip the backpack strap tighter trying to calm the nerves overtaking your heart and brain.
There, right there, leaning against a column alone in the shadows is Din and the brown eyes you’ve only dreamt of seeing in real life. He straightens when you make eye contact, but makes zero attempt to move, still frozen against the column. You lose the fight to hide your smile and excitement hurriedly shuffling over to him, he smiles as you get closer, the same shy half grin he gives when he says good night. His hands slip out of his pockets as you approach. Goodness, he’s so big and handsome, he could be a heartbreaker of all sorts to anybody he sets his sights on. The phone doesn’t do his beauty any justice.
“Hi,” you smile.
“H-hey, I can’t believe you’re… here,” his voice sounds even smoother and deeper in person.
“I am,” you shuffle on your feet. Hug me, kiss me, let me hug you, let me kiss you.
He tucks his hands back into his hoodie pocket, his silent rejection shoots a pang of longing through you.
You thought it’d play out like a grand romantic movie, you’d jump into his outstretched arms and he’d never let go. Din’s rejection fills you with jealousy… screw all of the happy couples. You hate those movies now.
Touch me.
Of course he’s nervous, you’re nervous too, you’re just better at hiding it. He still leans against the column, shielded by the liminal space.
“Do you have luggage?” He’s right in front of you and yet you’re too scared to touch him, too anxious you’ll scare him away.
“Nope, just my backpack and carry-on.”
Hug me, kiss me, let me hug you, let me kiss you.
“Oh, okay, did you want to leave then?”
“I didn’t come here to see the airport Din,” you place a hand on his hoodie clad arm. He looks down and stares.
Did you overstep? You couldn’t have, you just watched this same man orgasm for you last night while chanting how he couldn’t wait to paint you with his cum.
“Din,” you snap him out of his stare, “come on, I’m ready to leave.”
You know he’s not trying to reject you, but his nervous aloofness is overwhelming when all you want is for him to touch you… just once.
“I—uh, here, let me take your bags,” he mumbles, reaching past you to grab your suitcase. “It’s really cold, do you have a heavier jacket?”
“No, but I’ll be okay,” you reassure. The cold won’t sting nearly as much as Din’s seemingly innocent rejection.
“Here,” he pulls the collar of his hoodie over his head. “I’m used to this cold. You aren’t.”
You take the bundle of black fabric from his outstretched hand, not realizing just how cold you were until you put the hoodie warmed by his body heat on. It smells of him. Faint hints of campfire, wood, leather, citrus, and cinnamon. You wish you were wrapped up in Din himself, touching him, smelling him, tasting him. Hug me, kiss me, let me hug you, let me kiss you.
“Thank you,” you whisper. Whatever is happening inside of him seems to be bleeding over into your mind. You’re now second guessing every decision to come here. He was excited last night, he texted you this morning how he couldn’t wait to see you, is he disappointed?
“Yeah, of course,” he nods and turns towards the door, walking away in quick strides leaving you alone in the dark corner near that damn column he’d rather touch than you. He has your suitcase and backpack, so either this is a really expensive way to get robbed or he has zero clue how his actions are affecting you.
He turns back to you as he reaches the automatic doors, his eyes wide with guilt when he spots you still standing in the same place he left you. Well, at least he feels bad.
You let a deep breath out to steel yourself and walk to him.
“I-I’m sorry, just not used to ever having to… you know…”
“I know, it’s okay Din,” you gently smile. What in the world have you gotten yourself into?
“I’m just—“
“Nervous. I know Din, it’s okay. I understand this is a lot.”
“It is, but just… know that how I’m acting is not how I’m feeling. I’m really happy to have you here. You’re so… beautiful and I—thank you for being here with me.”
There it is. Everything is worth it now. The early morning Uber to the airport, the neverending TSA line, the cramped airplane seat, the nervousness you feel. You’d do it all again to hear that sentence.
“Of course, I know. You’re okay,” you take his hand. If he’s not going to do it, you’ll do it. “Come on, let’s go.”
His eyes stay downcast staring at your hand wrapped around his.
You clear your throat to get his attention, his eyes snap up to yours. “Din, let’s go.”
“R-right. Of course. Right.”
He leads you out the door, gripping your hand harder when the bitter wind lashes against your skin.
The two of you weave your way through the parking lot until you reach a large silver truck. It’s clean with a few dents and scratches. Well taken care of but old.
Din opens the creaky door and helps you step up. The black leather seat is smooth as you slide across it.
Din places your luggage in the back before opening his door and deftly stepping in.
You hide a deep exhale when he starts the engine.
He clears his throat and you look over. “It’s–uh nice to see you in here.”
“I’m glad,” you smile, turning and reaching your hand out to touch his cheek. Your thumb finds the little heart patch on the side of his face, you’ve been thinking about how it’d feel since you first saw it. You can’t help yourself, he looks so delicate, as if he’s aching to be touched but too scared to ask for it. You’re holding a scared fawn in your hands. Don’t scare him, don’t move too quickly, let him figure things out on his own.
His lips part as he inhales, deep brown eyes staring into yours, the nervousness radiating off his skin fills the truck cabin. You wish you could just throw caution to the wind and force him to tell you exactly how he’s feeling, to slide across the bench seat and beg him to take you right here in this airport parking lot. You don’t. You pull your hand away and put your seatbelt on.
“I can’t wait to see your home. I’ve never been to an actual farm before.”
___
You’ve seen glimpses of Din’s home in random pictures he’s texted you or your nightly FaceTime sessions, but you never imagined just how picturesque it could be. A large white two story farmhouse situated in the middle of a vast expanse of green grass, a small tin roofed barn sits to the side with a herd of goats happily grazing. Din’s life must be so peaceful here, very different compared to your townhouse in the middle of suburbia.
“It’s beautiful,” you muse as he pulls into the driveway. “I can understand why you never wanted to leave.”
The truck stops in front of his home, a german shepherd and a little schnauzer run down the porch steps and head for Din’s truck.
“They’ll be fine with you, but let me get out so I can control them.”
Din gets out of the truck, you chuckle to yourself as his clipped directions to the dogs are drowned out by excited barks.
He opens your door and reaches his hand out.
“Grogu! Boba! Back!” Din shouts as he helps you step down. His raised voice makes your heart skip a beat. You didn’t know he could ever be this loud.
“It’s okay, I like your dogs, you know I think they’re cute,” you bend down and tap on your knees to beckon them over. “This must be Grogu,” you scratch his soft ears. “He does have big ears.”
“They’re not that used to other people.”
“Hmm,” you stand up and pat the top of Boba’s head, “sounds like someone I know.”
He chuckles as he walks up the porch steps and unlocks the front door.
Warmth fills your body as you walk over the threshold. White walls, worn floorboards, antique furniture, all of it taken care of and clean. Tidy and well kept up, a lot like his truck, aged but in better shape and made to last; a far change from your newbuild townhouse and IKEA furniture.
“Diiin,” you breathe, “it’s beautiful in here. Like… I knew you lived in a nice house, but wow, between this and the farm… when do you sleep?”
“I sleep enough. I’ll go get your bags, make yourself… at home.”
You take a seat on his couch, it’s perfect for him. Beige, simple lines, nothing fancy, not too comfortable, but probably the height of cozy after a long day working on a farm. Grogu jumps up and sits next to you, his little bearded face panting happily next to yours. You scratch his chest and praise him as he inches closer towards you. Boba stays near the entry, waiting for Din.
“Think he likes you,” Din says as he places your bags by the steps. “Don’t take Boba’s standoffishness personally he’s–”
“Like you. I know,” you smile.
“Did– what would you like to do?”
“Can I see the computer where you first talked to me?”
“Um, yeah,” he walks down the hallway leaving you behind yet again, “it’s just in here.”
You shake your head and rise off the couch to follow, obviously he’s not used to company.
You walk into a small office, everything has a place, efficient and tidy, perfectly Din. Paperwork stacked in neat stacks, a calendar with his sharp writing all over it hung on the wall, today’s date circled with your name written in the box.
A black monitor sits on a mahogany desk.
“This is the computer, huh?” you ask, running your hands across the black keyboard,
“It is.”
“So this is where it all began? You sat there, clicked on my picture, and now look. I remember when I first heard your voice,” you face him taking both of his hands in yours, “it was so deep and warm, it lit something inside of me.”
You guide his arms to wrap around you, his hands rest on your lower back.
“I couldn’t stop thinking about you after our first session ended. There was something so pure and mysterious about you, I knew you weren’t lying about wanting to know. It wasn’t some kink you had, I knew you needed help. I felt lucky to be the one to show you.”
He sighs as you rest your head against his chest hearing the rhythm of his heart. “I closed that window so many times before finally agreeing and joining. I-I kept on thinking about how I could talk to someone as beautiful as you, all it would take is just a click. You were so pretty.”
“Just a click,” you whisper, craning your neck up as Din lowers his head. His nose bumps against yours, his plush bottom lip is captured between your lips, another part of him you’ve wanted to touch since you first saw him. You finally kiss him, sweet and tender, his lips molding to yours perfectly. He pulls you in closer, his tongue hesitantly dipping into your mouth as you lick against him. The past fifteen weeks have finally led to this moment inside of this old farmhouse office in the middle of nowhere. Your Din and his soft lips, tense hands against your back, your soft coos mingling with his low groans, you could stay in this moment forever, if it wasn’t for Din’s phone beeping in his pocket.
“I’m sorry,” he pulls away, a bashful smile adorns his face, “I need to go take care of the goats before sundown.”
“Of course.”
He hugs you, planting a soft kiss against your forehead and inhaling your scent before leaving. He’s warming up…
___
Din loves soup. You know this by the nights you spend with him over the phone. The man eats soup almost every single night. Soup with bread, soup and a baked potato, soup and steak, soup, soup, soup.
You can’t blame him, the stew and homemade rolls he serves you for dinner are delicious. He shyly tells you it’s his speciality when he places the porcelain bowl in front of you.
You could get used to the farm life. A fire burns in the fireplace while the tv plays Din’s favorite movie he’s been wanting to show you, some film about a galaxy far far away and an unlikely hero. The man loves space.
His arm slung across your shoulder lies heavily on you, warming you inside and out. Grogu sleeps on your lap, softly snoring as you pet his gray fur. Din occasionally sneaks a kiss against your hair, you don’t know if you’ve ever been more comfortable in your life.
The movie ends, a grand symphonic score plays over the credits.
“That was really good,” you smile towards Din. “I liked it.”
A grin slowly stretches across his face. “Yeah?”
“Yeah, thank you for showing me it.”
“You’re welcome,” he gazes at you, the same look he smolders through the phone, like he can’t believe his luck that you’re talking to him.
You attempt to fight a yawn and lose. Your eyes blink tiredly at Din when he reaches and rubs his thumb against your cheek.
“Did you want to,” he clears his throat, “sleep in my room with me tonight?”
“Only if you want me to Din.”
“I, uh, I do.”
“Okay, I’d like that.”
___
The airplane and long day washes off and rinses down Din’s shower drain. You use his washcloth and think of his hands touching you. You smell his soap and think of inhaling the scent as he holds you close. You don’t know what’s about to happen once you leave this room. If you’re this nervous, how does he feel?
Din looks up from the book he’s reading and watches you step out of the bathroom shyly padding over and getting into bed.
“What are you reading?” you whisper.
“Some book about a cowboy warrior in space…”
“Sounds interesting.”
“It’s good.”
“You know,” you look around the simple bedroom, “I see this room all the time, but only the wall behind your bed, hardly anything else. It’s been really nice seeing more of your life.”
He nods, blinking back to his book.
The night can’t end like this.
You grab the book from his hands and place it on the table.
“What are you thinking about Din? I never know what’s going on inside of you.”
“H-how pretty you look wearing that.”
You look down at the pink silk tank top and shorts and swallow down a smile. You specifically wore it because you know how Din’s eyes light up whenever you put it on. “It’s my favorite because it’s so soft. Do you want to feel it?”
He turns to you wide-eyed and gives you a solitary nod.
“Go ahead Din.”
His tan hand splays across your stomach, golden toned skin rests against the blushy silk of your tank.
“S’soft,” he murmurs to himself.
“Here,” you place your hand over his and press down, “really feel it.”
His eyes angle down watching your hand navigate his around your stomach to just below your breasts. His mouth sits slightly agape, thick brows furrowing in concentration as you slip his hand underneath the fabric, his trembling calloused fingers making contact with your skin.
“Am I soft here Din?”
“Y-Yes,” he stammers.
“Touch me, as little or as much as you want. Wherever you’re comfortable doing, okay?” you remove your hand from his. “I came here for you… whatever you want… I want..”
“I want to,” he gulps, “I want to touch you all over.”
“I’m all yours baby.”
His shoulders deflate with a groan, he trails his hand higher to cup one of your breasts. The tips of his fingers peek out of the top of your tank. Tan, well worked strong hands lay against your smooth skin. The sight makes you moan, your teeth gnawing at your lip, trying to qualm the temptation to touch him further.
“Take it off Din.” His dark brown eyes beam up to yours. “Go ahead baby.”
He grabs the hem of your tank top, softly bundling it in his hands and lifting it over your head leaving you bare chested.
“Kiss me and touch me baby,” you gently will.
His lips form over yours, his hands return to your skin, petting and caressing your breasts before you cover them, pushing them farther down your stomach. His breaths quicken against your mouth when you slip his hands underneath the band of your shorts.
“Fuck,” he pants against your lips when his hand meets the wetness seeping from your pussy. “Fuuuuuck.”
“You feel me baby? That’s how wet you always make me, ever since the first time we talked and all you were was a black square with a sexy voice. It’s like we were destined in the stars.”
“God damnit, you’re so soft,” Din’s hips buck into the air, his head thuds against the headboard when his thick finger slips in between your folds. “I-I-I oh god, I’m– I think I’m going to cum. I’m sorr–”
“It’s okay baby, I’m here, cum for me.” Your hand reaches down and grips his hard cock through his black sweatpants. “Cum for me Din.”
You feel a warm wet spot spread against your hand, pulling a moan from you..
“I’m--agh– sorry,” his big eyes stare at you, a hint of shame rounds them. “You feel so amazing.” He pulls his hand out of your shorts.
“No,” you whimper at the loss of contact. “I like it baby, I like that you like me so much that happened. Please don't apologize. Keep touching me if you want to. Do you?”
“God,” his eyes shrink in determination, “yes I do.”
“Okay baby.”
You sit in between his stretched out legs, lifting your hips to take off your shorts, spreading your legs wide, much the same way you do for your clients.
He stares at your exposed skin, eyes mapping every dip, curve and dimple of your body.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers. “I can’t believe you’re here… for me.”
“Of course I am baby.”
His fingers trace the plains of your legs, moving their way up to your thighs. His face set in a determinative scowl, eyes fixated on your core as he inches closer to it, now aching and soaked for him.
“I-I’ve never done this.”
“I know baby, you remember our first call?”
He nods.
“Remember what I told you what I liked?”
Another nod.
“Do that for me baby, touch me. Make me feel good.” A thick finger meets your lips, tracing a line up from your entrance to your clit before softly rubbing a circle around your sensitive nub. He remembered.
“You’re so wet for me,” he breathes out, his eyes staying planted staring at your pussy beguiled by his own actions.
“I am Din, only for you. I think about you every time. I-I,” you moan when he sticks a finger inside, slowly pumping it in and out, “I only want you.”
“Only want you too, baby. C-can I taste you?”
“Ye–oh my god, yes Din, I’m yours, do whatever you want to me.”
“I’m yours, anything you wa–”
“Sit on my face,” he growls.
“O-of course.”
You crawl towards him, leaving a chaste kiss on his lips before straddling his face, your dripping cunt hovers right over his mouth. He grips your ass and pulls you down, smothering himself with all of your slickness. You cover him like a mask, he worships your taste like a religion, moaning and groaning into your sweet pussy. Your praises about how good he’s doing and how amazing you feel incant out of your mouth as he takes you to paradise. Plush lips suck and savor you, your hands grip the bed frame like a precious artifact, his devotion to you and your pleasure pulls a melting orgasm from you.
“Din, Din, Din,” you pray at his altar, knees bowed and quaking against his ears as he drinks your offering down. You’re shattered, everything you’ve ever believed in replaced by Din and his idolatry of you.
You move your lust drunk body off and lay down next to Din. His face shines with a gloss of you, his tongue peeks out and licks his lips, before sending you a shy smile.
“You’re amazing,” he incredulously mutters.
“You are too,” a doting grin lights your face before pulling him in for a kiss. You can taste yourself on him, a moan leaves your throat at the realization.
Strong arms envelop you, pulling you closer to him, his hard cock juts against the soft skin of your thigh.
“Already?” you pull back and tease.
“C-can I feel you?”
“Feel me?”
“Yes, c-can I… can we….?”
A rush of anticipation thrums through your body at the implication of his nervousness.
“Yes Din, we can. Are you sure this is what you want tonight? We can wait.”
“N-no. I want you, I-I want this,” he moves his sweatpants down, kicking them off.
“Okay baby, okay,” you kiss him, grabbing his face, petting the soft hair of his sparse beard.
He rolls on top of you, cradling your head between his strong forearms, a heated kiss licks into your mouth as his naked weight covers you. Your legs open in a silent offer for Din to take everything you have. You can just feel the heft of his cock ghosting against your entrance.
He looks down at you, brown eyes wide, plush mouth parted, brows softened with adoration.
You send him a silent nod and smile when his cock enters you, feeling a sense of honor that you’re the one Din has chosen for this. You wouldn’t have it any other way. The green accept button, the reserved man dressed in all black, the deep voice, the connection between two screens. Now, you’re here with Din, moaning and rolling your hips to accept the length of him.
His neck strains when he sheathes his cock fully inside of you, panting and groaning as he slowly rocks back and forth.
“You … feel … like … heaven… I love your pussy… I love your body…. I… love you.”
He freezes at the divulgence, body locked in shock at his slip.
Your face lifts in a reassuring grin. “I love you too,” your hand grabs his chin, bringing his lips to yours.
You love him, you’ve known it for so long, but here in this farmhouse bed you can hear it, you can feel it.
Your bodies meld, hips meeting, lips locked, he gives you everything, you give him everything. Your pussy clenches around his slow, full strokes. This is making love.
“Baby, I-I.. I’m going t–” he strains.
“Go ahead Din, I got you.” Your hands trail up and down the expanse of his smooth back. He grunts, burying his head into the crook of your neck, fevered breaths hit your skin as his cum fills you.
He rolls off, pulling you to his side and kissing the top of your hair.
“Wow… I.. are you okay?”
“What?” your head perks up.
“You didn’t… uh–”
“I did when you fucked me with your tongue Din, I’m very happy and satisfied.”
“Oh, I just… I want to make sure you’re good.”
“Baby, I am very good. Trust me.”
“I love you,” he breathes.
“I love you too Din…” you rest your head against his chest, the exhaustion of the day settling in, quickly lulling you to sleep. This is the way to go to bed.
___
The faint sound of running water gently rouses you from the most peaceful slumber you’ve had. The sun has barely peaked over the horizon, the room’s still shrouded in a lazy darkness.
Din’s long sigh echoes against the tiles of the shower like a siren song.
You pad out of bed toward the bathroom, pushing the door wide open.
Your mouth drops at the sight ahead of you… Din’s muscular, toned golden body shines underneath a glistening sheen of water. He runs a gray wash rag across his stomach, the mop of dark, curly hair right underneath his hand beckons you to look farther down. You’ve seen him so many times before, almost every night, but this is the first time you’ve been able to see all of him in person. Din is a big man, his cock matches his stature. Just as long, just as broad, just as golden. God, he’s gorgeous.
You knock on the doorframe catching his attention, surprise tensing across his whole body.
“Good morning,” you purr, “can I join you?”
He nods, his cock grows visibly hard when you walk over and get in. The warm steam, Din’s naked body, and the smell of Din’s cedar body wash engulfs you, this is the way to wake up.
“Mmm, the hot water feels good,” you sigh, leaning your head against his chest. Din’s cock rests heavily in between you, tempting you to touch it. “Want me to wash you?”
He groans a yes.
“You can wash me too,” you propose, squeezing a dollop of body wash onto your palm, running it across your chest before leaving suds on your hands. “Go ahead Din.”
Drops of water land against your skin as his trembling hands slowly reach for your breasts. He massages and kneads, both palms laying against your tits, his touch turns more searing when your hands land on his chest, rubbing in the soap along the dusting of hair stretched across his broad body.
Your nipples pebble under his nervous, firm touch and undivided attention. He hisses when your hands slink farther down, running across the damp curls of his happy trail leading you to his cock standing between his thighs, thick and dripping. You wrap a fist around his length, his knees weaken causing his body to smash against the wall, his face grimacing in pleasured agony.
“Fuck,” he pants, water rains down into his wide open mouth, splashing out with every exclamation of your name he repeats as he cums all over your stomach.
Your tongue runs up the column of his neck to his mouth, swallowing his rapid breaths.
“You feel so good against me,” he gasps against your lips. “I can’t believe you’re here.”
“I am baby, I am,” you coo, wrapping your arms around him, wishing you could live in this tiny shower forever. This is the way to wake up.
___
Din settles on the porch swing next to you, pulling your blanket wrapped body close to him.
“Is this what you do every morning?”
“Just about,” he says before taking a drink of his coffee.
“It’s nice,” you yawn, “early but nice.”
He chuckles, “You get used to it.” “Mm,” you rest your head on his chest, smelling the fresh dew and hay on his flannel jacket.
“I really like you being here,” he softly says.
“I really like being here too.”
“You know,” he gulps, “you can do your job here… with me.”
___
A/N: Thank you for reading! This ending makes me feel:
Fifteen Minutes
Din Djarin x Cam Girl Reader AU
Rating: Explicit. 18+ (Minors DNI) Summary: Being a cam girl isn't as exciting as people think it is, that is until a mystery of a deep voiced man asks you what makes a woman feel good. Warnings: Smut, mutual masturbation, voyeurism, sex work, Din reveals his face, silver dildo, Din's a virgin, premature ejaculation. Banner has nothing to do with appearance of reader, reader has no physical descriptors besides being AFAB. Words: 4,360 Author Note: Happy May the 4th, tell me why I spent all tonight writing this?
Fifteen Masterlst Masterlist
— —
THEWAY would like to chat. Accept?
$150 for fifteen minutes of staring at someone’s dick, of course you’re going to take it. Usually these calls consist of you rubbing your body and complimenting men you’d never even speak to while you try to recall if you remembered to order caesar dressing with your dinner. You look around your room, you have nothing else to do, your delivery won’t be here for another twenty minutes… you hit accept.
“Hi babe, how are you tonight?” You smile into the camera, the smile your customers love, sultry bedroom eyes and a small grin.
“…Good,” he breathes out.
Oh, his voice. You only see a black shirt… nothing else, but that voice is enough for you.
“Tell me, have you done this before?”
“…No. My first time.”
“Alright, so you have fifteen minutes with me, once the timer is up we’re done and I disconnect. You’re allowed to touch yourself and I will watch you, I will do what you tell me to do within my own comfort, if I choose to end the call because I don’t feel right, then you will be billed the whole amount. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, great. Just so I know what you want before we start what are you interested in tonight?”
“I’d like to watch you and learn.”
“Learn?”
“Yes, learn, I-I,” he sighs, “I’ve never been with anybody before.”
“Oh.” With that voice? You don’t know what he looks like, but his voice has already turned you on so much you can’t imagine somebody who sounds like that is a virgin. You turn the volume all the way up. “So, you want me to show you what girls like?”
“What a girl like you likes, yes.”
“I can do that for you. I’m going to start the timer now.”
You know this feeling, the click of the mouse on the green BEGIN button, the lean back to get your body in the whole frame, the spreading of your legs to show your viewer what they really want to see.
“What do you want me to show baby?” You ask as you run your hand along your neck and down to your breasts.
“Show me what you like when someone has you.”
How are you so turned on by his voice? The way it flows through your speakers, the deep baritone of his serious voice, it does something to you… and it’s just a voice.
“I like when a guy plays with my nipples,” your hands cup your breasts, pulling and massaging them into peaks. “I like when they lick them,” you dribble spit down to your chest, swiping your fingers through it and spreading it across your chest.
His long exhale massages your body through those damn tinny speakers. Usually by now your screen is full of your client’s dick, you’ve become very good at staring at the camera, ignoring the tugging and actions on the screen in your peripheral vision. This time, that voice makes you wish you could see him.
“I like when they drag their hands all over my body,” your hand travels down your stomach to your thighs and back up.
“I like when they tell me they want to touch my body. Do you want to touch my body?”
“Y-yes.”
“What do you want to touch?”
“E-everywhere, you look like you’re so soft. I want to touch your legs, they look so smooth.”
“I’d like that,” you smile at the camera, “do you want me to touch my pussy for you?”
“Uh huh.”
You lay back, spreading your legs wide, dipping your hand down to pet yourself. You’re not surprised to find that you’re already wet, the mysterious man’s deep voice mixed with the desolate black screen and the sight of his black shirt moving as he breathes is enough for you.
You wonder how old he is, what he looks like, why he chose your room, why he’s obviously not touching himself. He’s a mystery you want to figure out. You welcome the luxury of not having to pretend you like what you see. You like knowing that this total stranger is sitting in a dark room only focusing on you.
You rub a finger against your clit, your hips rising at the feel of the pressure against your sensitive nub.
“I like when they can feel how wet they make me.” You glue your eyes to the camera letting out a moan while your finger teases your clit. “I like when they dip a finger in my cunt and bring my juices up to my clit. Feels really good as they rub me with my wet.”
Your finger dips down to your entrance, sliding it into yourself. “Ohh baby, I am so wet for you,” you moan as you begin to fuck yourself.
Your other hand begins its descent down your body until it reaches your pussy. It works over your clit as you fuck yourself slowly, your cunt already clenching around your singular finger.
You’re so turned on right now, the excitement of this black screen, the knowledge that he picked your picture and trusts you to show him what makes you feel good.
“You’re pretty quiet over there, you good?”
“Y-yes. I like watching you.”
“Why’d you choose me?” you slip another finger in with a moan. “Couldn’t you just have watched a video?”
“I wanted to see it for real. Is it for real?”
“With you, yes.”
You don’t know what it is about his voice. Why are you getting off on the mystery?
“Are you touching yourself?” You never have to, nor want to, ask, but you want to know this time.
“No,” he sighs, “I want to focus, I don’t want any distractions.”
“Okay, that’s okay baby,” you give him an understanding smile as you begin canting your hips up to pump yourself harder.
Five minute warning. The red box pops up on the screen. You’re too focused on your bliss to close the warning. You’re always so good at turning off the video vixen and going right into businesswoman mode but tonight, you just want to make this stranger feel satisfied.
“I really like it when my pussy is stuffed with a cock, I love feeling the stretch and I love when my hole is stuffed so full.”
You hear his deep groan. You can’t hide the smile on your face.
“Ohhh, you liked that didn’t you? How would you take me if you were here with me? Let me know baby, tell me.”
“I-I’d want to fuck you as I looked in your eyes, you have beautiful eyes and lips, I want to kiss you while I fuck you.”
“Oh,” a chill blooms through your body at how gentle his words are. Most men are crass and too forthcoming with their fantasies, never soft, most of their answers just turn into white noise. His answer is going to stay with you. “I like when a guy wants me to cum all over their cock, I love the feeling of my cunt pumping around a hard cock as I orgasm. I’m close, do you want me to cum for you?”
“Please, yes.”
His voice, you can’t stress this enough, his voice is so fucking hot. Your body begins to feel feverish as the loud squelch of your fingers working your cunt faster and harder gets louder. You hardly ever cum during these sessions, especially when you use just your hands, needless to say, you’re really good at pretending.
You love your job, you really do, it allows so much freedom and pays well, but some nights are so monotonous and boring. Tonight seemed like one of those nights, until you accepted this call. Tonight you’re going to cum.
Your orgasm hits you hard, back arching, limbs tightening, eyes fluttering as a rush of slick soaks your fingers. You pant for air as you come down, slipping your fingers out and resting a hand on your chest.
The countdown begins in the corner of your screen 60, 59, 58…
“Time’s about up,” you whisper as you sit up, “I hope I helped you.”
“Y-you did. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” you smile. “Don’t be a stranger.”
“I won’t.”
He disconnects.
Your account shows $250 extra. He’s an excellent tipper and you actually came for him. You really love your job tonight.
——
THEWAY would like to chat. Accept?
The way, the way, the way. You’ve thought about him for the past week, wondering if he joined any other room, if he chose someone else over you. All you know about him is he owns a black shirt and has never been with anybody… and yet you’ve thought about him every single day since. Have you crossed his mind? You sure hope so because he picked you again tonight. Your heart beats faster as you try to hide the smile when you hit the accept button.
“Hi again,” you grin.
This time there’s a light on behind him, you can just make out the broadness of his shoulders, really fucking broad, he’s in a black shirt again, but thanks to the light you can see he has golden skin.
“Hi, it’s nice to see you," he shyly says.
Goodness you’re so thankful for that light, you can see the way his chest moves when he talks. There’s tiny peek of his toned neck at the top of the screen, you pray he dips lower exposing his face. His voice is just how you remembered it, low and bassy, you’re already getting wet at the anticipation of hearing more.
“I can see a little more of you now,” you wink, “I like it.”
“Heh,” he chuckles, it's the first time you’ve heard him laugh. His hand comes into frame and scratches his chest. It’s beautiful and large, his fingers are thick, you wonder what they’d feel like against your skin.
“I have to give you the same spiel even though you’re a repeat. Once again, you have fifteen minutes with me once it’s up, I disconnect. Please feel free to touch yourself for me and I’ll do what you want as long as I am okay with it. I’ll hang up if I don’t feel comfortable. Do you understand?”
“I do.”
“Wonderful. Are you going to touch yourself for me tonight?”
“Uh, n-no, not yet.”
“That’s okay, I’m happy to do the work for you. You want me to use my hands, or do you want me to use a toy?”
“Do you have anything shaped like a-a—uh, a—“
“A dick?”
“Yeah.”
“I do. You want to watch me fuck myself with a cock?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, I’ll grab my favorite one just for you.”
You roll over and pick up your “briefcase” of sex toys, grabbing your favorite, the silver toned dildo. It’s thick, it vibrates, and it fits your cunt just right.
“Is this what you want to watch me fuck myself with?”
“Ye—“ he clears his throat. “God, yes.”
You giggle. “Okay, I’m starting the timer now.”
You tap the button. Fifteen minutes of him.
“What do you want from me baby? You want to see how this cock looks in my mouth?”
“Yes,” he strangles out.
“You want me to pretend it’s your cock?”
“Fuck, yes.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“L-lick it.”
You smile, leaning closer to the camera as you bring the dildo up to your lips, sticking your tongue out and swirling it around the tip, your eyes focused on the screen, not the camera… the screen. You want another glimpse of his skin.
“Mm, wish I could taste you. You think you’re leaking for me right now baby?”
You lick a line down to the base and back up.
“I bet you’re so warm and soft there,” you whisper against the tip before opening your mouth and sucking it. You hollow your cheeks as you take the dildo in deeper, eyes widening and tearing as it hits the back of your throat.
“Fuuuuck,” he leans back farther in his chair his chin comes into sight, well trimmed facial hair, strong chin, you know he has to be beautiful.
You can’t stop looking at him, you don’t even know his name, where he lives, what he does, why in the hell he’s still a virgin.
Drool escapes your lips as you fuck your mouth moaning around the silver latex.
Most of the time this job isn’t the greatest, you usually find yourself going through the motions, moving on to the next client, the next responsibility. Sure, sometimes you really connect with a watcher, sometimes you look forward to the name appearing knowing you’ll actually really enjoy the session, but most of the time, you deal and move on. It’s business. Sure as hell beats sitting in a cubicle. With this stranger, this puzzle you’re slowly figuring out? You love your job.
“Want to see my pussy take this cock now baby?”
“Please.”
You nod, leaning back and spreading your legs open.
“Do you feel safe telling me your name? I want to say your name as I get fucked by your cock.”
“Ye—fuck yes. It’s Din.”
“Diiiiiiin,” you moan, as you begin to pump the silver cock in and out of you. It moves smoothly, you’re soaking wet for him, only due to his voice and whatever sights the light of the lamp wants to bless you with.
Din. Three letters. Simple. Direct. Unique. Strong.
“Oh Din, you feel so good in me baby, like how I take your cock? Tell me baby, talk to me, I want to hear you.”
“Yes. God, you’re so beautiful.”
“You’re so big, you’re stinging me so good. You like how my pussy looks stretched around you?”
“Yes, I-I do.”
“I feel desperate, so desperate for you. I love how you feel inside me. What are you looking at baby? Can’t see your eyes, what are you watching me do right now? Where are you focused?”
“On your face. I like watching the way you bite your lip as you f-fuck yourself.”
God, he still sound so nervous. So new. He can’t be too young, not with that body.
“What color eyes do you have, Din?”
“Brown, b-brown eyes.”
“Mm, I like brown eyes, I bet you’re real handsome all brown eyed and tan skin. Now, have those brown eyes watch my pussy baby, watch how I take you. You can look at my face as I cum for you, Din. Right now I want you to look at my cunt. Are you hard for me Din? Are you as hard as the cock I’m fucking myself with?’
“Yes.”
The five minute warning box shows up again, this time it’s your nemesis that you ignore.
“Do you imagine a pussy as wet as mine when you get yourself off?”
“Y-yes.”
“Did you make yourself cum after our last session?”
“Yes,” he chokes out, “right after, I-I jerked off.”
“Did you think about me?” Your voice coming out with more curiosity than you’d like.
“I did, and every time since.”
Your body shivers from his words, “That’s a good boy Din, I like that,” you smile as your hips raise off the bed to meet your quickening thrusts fucking yourself harder.
He groans, long and low.
“I’m going to cum for you, Din,” you pant. ”I’m going to cum on your cock and then I’m going to lick myself up off of you, okay?”
“Fuck, yes.”
You chant Din’s name as you pound your pussy, tingles shooting through you as you orgasm. You haven’t cum like this on camera in a long time. It’s devastating that not every one of your clients can be Din.
You stretch your limbs out as you come down from your climax.
“God damn,” you giggle, “that was really fucking good.”
You slowly take the dildo out and bring it to your lips, raising your eyebrow at him and resting the tip against your lips.
“Yes, please, yes,” he growls.
You lick yourself off the silver latex, sucking your juices from the top, smiling as your mouth forms around it.
“Fuck, fuck, fuuuuuck,” Din’s voice edges you on.
“Mmm, Din, I taste so good, look how fucking shiny I made your dick.”
“Goooooood, fuck,” he pants, “you’re so pretty, fuck. Fuck, I-I-I I’m going to cum.”
The one minute countdown shows up at the worst time. You quickly lean forward and hit IGNORE, DO NOT CHARGE EXTRA.
“Cum for me Din, cum for me,” you try to disguise your prideful smile behind the silver dildo.
The groans he lets out as he cums, the way his neck stretches as he angles his head up… it’s all you get, but it’s enough to keep you thinking about him at any chance you get.
Sometimes a self esteem boost can be as simple as somebody complimenting your shoes or an attractive person giving you a friendly nod… this boost isn’t nearly as simple. Din just came in his pants just for you, without even touching himself.
“I’ve never done that, sorry,” his voice dripping with shame.
“No, Din, baby, no. I really liked it. A lot. I’m glad I could make you feel that way. Really.”
“You’re really… sweet, you know that?”
“I suppose I can be. Depends on the person,” you wink.
“I—uh, think I’m over my time.”
“You are, but I’m not going to charge you for it.”
“Thank you.”
“Of course. Don’t be a stranger, Din.”
“I won’t.”
He disconnects. You lay back on your bed and grin at your ceiling.
——
THEWAY would like to chat. Accept?
“Din,” you smile as the familiar black shirt appears on your screen. Thank god, the lamp is on. “It’s only been three days.”
“I know, I-I wanted to see you.”
“That’s good, I wanted to see you too.”
“I can’t stop thinking about you these past few days,” he pauses, “I’m sorry, i-is that okay?”
“Oh, of course it is. I’ve thought about you too baby.”
“You say that for everyone?”
“I do, but this time I mean it. Now, you know I have to give you the same base instructions. Fifteen minutes and then I disconnect. You can touch yourself, I’ll do what you want as long as I am okay with it. I’ll hang up if I don’t feel right. Do you understand?”
“I do.”
“Good, so what do you want tonight?”
“Yeah, I, uh, want to um—will you watch me tonight?”
“Of course baby, I’d be happy to.”
“Okay, yeah, thanks.”
You shake your head and laugh. “No need to thank me, I’m always happy to help you. I was really happy to see your name. So you want me to watch you tonight? Do you want me to do anything else for you?”
“Just, touch yourself and talk to me like you do. I-I’ve never done something like this, nobody has ev—nobody’s seen me like this before.”
He sounds so fragile, you want to take care of him.
“You want me to use a toy or my hand?”
“Just your hand.”
“Okay baby, I’ll use my hand. I’ll start the timer.” You softly whisper the last part, trying to ignore that at the end of the day he’s is just your client.
He moves the computer farther away, new views are unlocked. His stomach, his crotch, his thick thighs all clad in black.
You click the start timer button. Fifteen minutes left of this view. Fifteen minutes left of Din.
You lean back and spread your legs to show him your already wet cunt.
“Want me to play with my pussy for you? Get you nice and hard so you can fuck yourself until you cum for me?”
“Yes,” he hisses. His hand moves down to grip his crotch.
Fuck, that sends a wave of pleasure through your body as one of your hands spreads your folds wide open.
“Do you see how fucking wet I am Din? How turned on I am by you, I don’t even know how you look, but you drive me crazy.”
He groans as he squeezes his bulge.
“I love how you groan, I wish I could feel it against my pussy while you eat me. I bet you’d lick me so well.”
“I want to taste you, fuck.”
“I want you to test me too. Now, go ahead, take your shirt and pants off. I want to see the rest of you.”
He quickly removes his shirt. God damnit, he’s perfect. Tan chest, tan stomach, the perfect amount of hair running from his chest to his stomach, down to where he’s currently unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans. You can’t believe your eyes, as he lifts his hips to move the fabric down. Everything about him is big and strong. Lean, but filled out in all the right places. Strong and soft. How the fuck is he still a virgin? Your mouth waters at the sight of his erection now barely hiding behind the thin black fabric of his briefs.
“Din,” you begin to rub circles around your clit, happy for the pressure, “you look so good for me, let me see your cock. Let me stare at it, you want me to see your cock?”
“Yes.”
He’s such a man of few words, you love it. His words are simple, straightforward, efficient, just like his name. Din.
He pulls his boxers down, his cock springs up. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He’s rock hard, pulsing, golden toned, leaking from the tip, all surrounded by dark brown hair, you knew he had dark hair. He’s HUGE.
“Din, you’re fucking beautiful baby, I can’t believe it,” you gasp. “Fuck yourself for me, I can’t wait to see you cum all over your beautiful skin for me.”
His fist wraps around his shaft, you’ve seen some pretty hot things in your line of work. You’ve had some really attractive clients call in, but right now? Right now is the hottest thing you’ve ever been blessed to witness. Din stroking his cock for you, watching his stomach move with each breath he takes. You’re too focused on him to realize your finger has been paused on your clit since he first unsheathed his cock.
“Fuck, Din, you’re making me forget what I’m doing, you look so good. I can’t believe it.”
He groans, his grip tightens at the tip as he fucks himself.
“Something about seeing you like this, hearing you moan and groan for me,” your finger runs a line back and forth between your hole and your clit. “It just does something to me. It’s so fucking sexy.”
He lets out a strangled grunt raising his hips and pumping his hand faster, “I-I don’t think I’m going to last long.”
“That’s good baby, watching you is already making me want to fucking cum,” you stick two fingers in, your cunt already fluttering around them.
“Wh-what would you do if I was with you right now fu—fucking you?”
“I’d kiss you,” your other hand travels down to begin circling around your clit, “I’d kiss your strong neck, I’d lick into your mouth and taste you. Wrap my hands around your big arms and hold on as your big cock destroys my pussy.”
“Goddddd,” he whimpers, “I-I’d like that.” His hand becoming a blur on your screen as he strokes quicker.
The stupid five minute warning pop up shows up. You’re getting real good at ignoring it with him.
“You like that I’m about to cum on your cock? You really do something to me Din, I can’t believe how quick and hard you make me cum.”
His hips begin bucking into his first, the chair he’s on squeaking as he rapidly moves up and down. You love hearing the sound of him fucking himself mixed with the sound of you fucking yourself.
“I’m going to cum baby,” he grunts, he called you baby.
Your eyes widen as you watch him spurt white ropes of his cum all over his stomach and thighs. There’s so much.
Your cunt begins to spasm around your fingers as your climax crashes through you.
“Din, you feel so good. You came so good,” you gasp as you orgasm, trying to keep your shaking legs wide for him to watch. You pant for air as you get your bearings back, you’re obsessed with how this comedown feels.
“That was amazing Din,” you smile, “not to be too forward, which is a funny thing to say right now, but you look really good.”
“Wow,” he laughs, “thank you. I feel the same way about you.” Your smile widens, you bet his face is so handsome when he laughs.
“If you don’t mind me asking, how in the hell are you a virgin with a dick like that?”
“Some weird religion stuff… I’m no longer a part of. Long story, maybe one day I’ll tell you.”
“I’d like that.”
The one minute timer shows its ugly head.
“Fuck, we have a minute left,” you frown. “I, uh, would you take my number?” Now it’s your turn to feel nervous.
“Y-yes. Sure.”
You lean forward and type your number into the chat box.
“Please call me here next time you want to… talk with me.”
“I will.”
“Don’t be a stranger, Din.”
“I won’t.”
He disconnects.
——
DIN DJARIN WANTS TO FACETIME
You almost drop your phone at the name. Goosebumps break out across your skin, your heart begins to beat loudly against your chest. You click accept, and this time you really almost drop your phone.
His face, you knew it… he’s beautiful.
“Hi,” he shyly smiles.
“Hi. Y-you’re gorgeous?”
He laughs, his big brown eyes disappearing behind the crinkles of his eyes. “If you say so.”
“I do. I’m so glad you called me.”
“I am too,” his smile is the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.
Sometimes you love your job, especially when it brings someone like Din Djarin into your life.
___
Hi! Here's the next installment for these two. Fifteen Weeks
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