Title:Stepwise Pairing:Din Djarin x Female Reader Rating:E, 18+ Word Count:5.1k Warnings:explicit smut (fingering, blowjob, unprotected p-in-v, cum eating, cum play, mention of ass play), touch-starved Din, possessive Din, somewhat inexperienced Din, soft feelings, references to canon-typical violence Summary: Requests for both soft and smutty touch-starved head canons spiraled out of control and became this.
Din Djarin knows some touch.
He’s versed in violent touch, in touch made heavy by duty. He’s comfortable with the tangled chaos of hand-to-hand combat, the brutal embrace of wrestling a quarry to the ground, the dead weight of a body slung over his shoulder, the strange intimacy of towing someone by their bound wrists from the moment of capture all the way to the carbonite chamber.
This is so perfect. Incoherent screaming under cut
[inhales] AAAAAAHAHAAAAaaah. This is so good. How do you write him so perfectly you wizard - this is really our mans. The way you describe his swings from vulnerable and soft to desperate and starving - this is the way seriously I got goosebumps. The flashbacks to his childhood! Also kudos for the patient, empathetic reader. love love love this. Thank you for sharing your masterpieces with us.
A/N: the topping Din fic is finally here and I hope y’all like it! Shoutout to @pala-din-djarin for giving me the Din’ika idea and allowing me to use it <3
Din wasn’t as experienced as you were in bed, but this wasn’t exactly the first time you ever fucked him. Still, he made it sound like your pussy was driving him insane, and you could tell by the look on his face that he was already desperately trying to hold off his orgasm.
Title:Stepwise Pairing:Din Djarin x Female Reader Rating:E, 18+ Word Count:5.1k Warnings:explicit smut (fingering, blowjob, unprotected p-in-v, cum eating, cum play, mention of ass play), touch-starved Din, possessive Din, somewhat inexperienced Din, soft feelings, references to canon-typical violence Summary: Requests for both soft and smutty touch-starved head canons spiraled out of control and became this.
Din Djarin knows some touch.
He’s versed in violent touch, in touch made heavy by duty. He’s comfortable with the tangled chaos of hand-to-hand combat, the brutal embrace of wrestling a quarry to the ground, the dead weight of a body slung over his shoulder, the strange intimacy of towing someone by their bound wrists from the moment of capture all the way to the carbonite chamber.
This reblog is long overdue for a fic that I’ve read as many times as I have, and I apologize for that. Not only did you take the time to answer my ask, you turned that answer into something so breathtakingly beautiful and gorgeous and full of in-depth care for this man’s character — and I will never be over it. I’ve read passages of this so many times I think I might be able to recite them. This is like an epic poem to Din, an ode to him and I can’t think of anyone in the whole world who would be more perfect to write something like than on him, other than my very favorite Din writer. I can’t thank you enough for this, Simone ❤️
Favorite parts under the cut (spoiler; it’s the whole thing):
Learning the feel of you without the barrier of leather and duraweave is more intense than he expected. He already knows the shape of you—the curves and valleys and ridges—but now he gets the textures and the temperatures: the softness of your skin, the tickle of your body hair, the warmth of your breath when you bring his knuckles up to your mouth to plant kisses on each one. He loves it all.
I know I asked you about how Din feels about touch, so I don’t know what exactly I was expecting, but it sure as hell wasn’t whatever fucking poetry this is. JESUS. This exact sentiment is the entire premise behind his initial attraction in TMTC and I know that I’ve told you this before and you’re probably so sick of hearing about it, but what took me chapters to convey only took you a deft, beautifully written paragraph and I am literally in AWE of your talent. I love Iove LOVE that he becomes clingy, because of COURSE HE WOULD — he would be mesmerized by it all.
He’s not proud of the sounds he makes, but he’s too lost in the sensation to really care that he’s panting audibly, his labored breath a staticky drag through the modulator.
Fuckkkkkkk — “staticky drag through the modulator”. I’ve read (and I’m not even joking) just about every single fic of Din on his ship that exists (which is probably something I shouldn’t admit, lol) and the way you nail these immersive details about him under that helmet, or what he’s wearing, or his environment — as a reader, it’s so goddamn LUSH, keeping you right in the environment of the story and as a writer, I am so envious of your vocabulary.
he’s pressing the heel of his hand over yours, flexing his hips, and cumming in his pants like a fucking teenager. He’s too drowned in your lust-blown eyes and the way you moan oh fuck that’s so hot to be embarrassed. You keep your grip on the damp spot over his oversensitive, spent cock—clinging possessively—throw your head back, and fall apart too.
This was WAYYYYYY FUCKING HOTTER THAN IT HAD ANY RIGHT TO BE. My GOOOOODDDDDDD
spit-slick hand
*pockets this mentally because I love the way it sounds*
when you fall asleep together, he coils around you like a hungry snake, your limbs intertwined like climbing vines, his face tucked between your shoulder and your ear. Lying in the tight space, enveloped by him, his humid breath against your neck, you don’t need a blanket at all. You toss it somewhere down by your feet and soak up the heat he radiates
The groan of longing that I made when I read this paragraph is…..embarrassing, lol. My god this is everything. The way he seeks to touch every single part — large men in small spaces is my bread, butter and JAM — but this; the tenderness in this, the intimacy, the gentleness but also this sensory language is literally stuff of dreams. I want you to know that when I post about working on my own craft and taking time to read people I really, truly admire in order to absorb their brilliant writing and study it to get better, I am 100% talking about you.
A pained sound—a sound like raw relief
RAW RELIEF — that’s so fucking perfect, I can’t —
his eyes darken and brim with lust
The IMAGE of this ❤️❤️
I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again — you are a phenomenal writer and I am so beyond lucky to be blessed with access to your talent. The way you write him is it for me and the way you write in general is truly literal goals.
Thank you so much for answering my ask — I’m gonna go get this tattooed on my body now
Pairing: Marshal Din Djarin x Fem!Reader Warnings: Blood, implied gun violence, description of wounds, implied violence towards women, fear of violence towards children, allusion to past murders, animal in distress, swearing Word Count: 3.9k Tags: Plan: Rescue Marshal Din is activated, Reader knows her way around a shotgun, ladies looking out for each other, Razor is the bestest boy, some fun Easter eggs (if ya know ya know), and as per always a chunk of the research I did for this chapter at the end lol
The voices of the other adult travelers in the second class were a constant murmur around you after Din left with the train attendant.
The last dregs of sunlight disappeared as the stars sparkled brighter. While the few clouds left in the dark sky were joined by the darker smudge. The coal-laden smoke was being thrown up by the train engine several cars ahead of the second class seating you were currently in.
As the train slowed down for a curve in the tracks up ahead, you were jostled around on the wooden bench a few times. You had to keep a good hold on Lewie to make sure he stayed in your lap.
The boy grunted and frowned in his sleep, his one chubby hand gripping tighter onto the front of your blouse. The other hand, held on to the little stuffed toy elephant Lewie had kept so safely during your journey. Every time that toy had gotten dusty or dirty little Lewis would brush it off carefully, and when he was worried about Charlie he would ask for him to get put into one of Din’s saddlebags. It was adorable, yet even as you brushed a hand over his soft, round cheek you started to worry.
(please note this is my last active tag list and will be retired when this series is complete, if you would like to be added to be tagged for the last parts of the Dusty Trails Series please let me know )
