#din djarin the mandalorian | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

peterparkersnose · 1 year

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You Over Anyone

pairing: Din Djarin x reader

word count: 2.6k

warnings: jealousy, angst, relationship awkwardness, assault (physical), reader gets cut by a knife, description of assault and defense, blood, din takes care of you, allusions to sex

a/n 97 days until the mandalorian returns !!!! somewhat angsty. there isnt quite enough angst on tumblr that doesnt end up with sex. dont get me wrong, i love a good smut, but sometimes i just need some yelling and frustration. longer fic woohoo!!! wrote it in one night too. i missed din djarin.

bonus at the end for you guys :)

summary Y/N gets upset when another girl comes around and questions where her relationship stands with Din

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read time: 9 mins 29 seconds

3 days, 12 hours, and 30 ish minutes. That was the last time Din kissed you, but you totally weren’t counting. How long has it been since he’s touched you? Hugged you? Acknowledged you for anything other than the bare minimum? Your anxious thoughts flew through your mind as you tied up your boots. He had become more and more distant each day since you had found Natalie.

About a week ago you were in the forest looking for a frog to sneak to Grogu. He had listened to you all day and deserved a treat for being a good boy. That is when you came upon a girl, no older than 20. She was almost nude, shivering, and covered in dirt. And drop dead gorgeous.

Against your better judgement you took her back to the crest. Din had basically done the same for you when he found you, why not return the favor?

Natalie showed up in the middle of an awkward time in you and Din’s relationship. Sure, flirty banter has been there ever since you’ve known him. But the last few months you two have been together- sort of. It was confirmed by mutual feelings but never said out loud. You two were everything but girlfriend and boyfriend. I mean, you could have sworn Grogu said ‘mama’ last week. You were raising a child as well as taking the risk of making a new one. He had shown you his face. You had to be something. There was no way you weren’t- right?

Shaking your head and grabbing your weapon, you followed the sound of giggling from outside.

“He does tricks?” Natalie asked, head cocked perfectly in Din’s direction. Her ponytail flew perfectly in the breeze.

“Well, sometimes. Grogu- where’s your ball? Did you leave it on the crest?” Din playfully asked his son, tickling his stomach. All he got and expected as a response was a ‘coo’ from the child.

Taking in the sight of your… Din and Grogu and her made you sick. I mean, she was even wearing your clothes. How much more sick could this get?

“Ready?” you asked, approaching the two hanging your blaster from your belt.

“Actually, I think Natalie and I are going to stay back. I promised her I would teach her how to shoot and…” Din said, the tone in his voice weary.

He saw the way your face dropped, but it flew completely over his head. Your mouth was slightly agape. You stared at him. Then her. Then him.

“Y/N?” Din coughed, breaking you from your haze. “Yeah sure. I’ll take Grogu into town with me.” you said flatly. Without hesitating, you reached for Grogu sitting in his pouch on Din’s waist (god that tiny waste drove you nuts) and secured him in your scarves.

Walking to the speeder, you watched as Din brought Natalie over to the hill the crest was parked on, letting her aim his blaster. His blaster, the one you were forbidden to touch. The pit in your stomach kept growing larger and larger and falling deeper and deeper.

Grogu cooed, noticing his mother was upset. “I’m alright, kid.” you said, smiling putting on a strong face for him. Of course, he could sense everything that was wrong and your phony smile couldn’t fool him. A sad sigh exhaled from the child as he placed his forehead and a tiny green hand on your chest where he sat tightly.

At least someone still wanted you.

Jiggling through the lanyard that was attached to your waist looking for the speeder key, you heard a shout from behind you.

“Y/N!” Din yelled, waving his hand with a slight run towards you.

Your face perked up. A slight smile came on your lips. He was coming back to give you a goodbye kiss, you just knew it.

“Hey,” he said, slightly out of breathe as he reached the speeder. You were ready. Leaning over the speeder towards him, your eyes met through his viser.

“Don’t forget those to buy those special nuts I like. The ones with dragon berry? Remember?”

Your perfect moment was crushed.

“Yup,” is all you could manage out. Your hand had grasped the right key and you sped off, leaving a trail of dust behind you.

***

It was now midday. The hot sun beat down on the two of you. Your scarves were draped over your head, shielding the sun from your eyes.

You felt a tiny scratch on your chest. “Yes, yes. Calm down, we’re going to the Cantina for some food.”

One more sale and it was lunch. The bag of credits in your sleeve pocket was still heavy. You were skimming the blaster modifications when you heard a squeal.

“Is that her, Din?” you heard Natalie say from feet away. “Shh!” he hushed her.

He told her his name. Not Mando anymore. Din.

“Y/N!” Natalie yelled from across the market. You grinded your teeth and took a deep breathe, abandoning any interest in the parts.

“Hi!” you said with the fakest smile you had ever had on your face. “How did you two get here without a speeder?” you asked, a pissed tone silently rode off your lips as your eyes stabbed into his beskar helmet.

“We walked! It was such a nice time in the forest. An hour goes by really fast when your having fun.” Natalie smiled aimlessly at you.

As you couldn’t see, Din was behind his mask with the most tired eyes and annoyed face known to man.

You swallowed.

“I’m starving. Could you get me some food Din?” she said again using his name. “Mando.” he corrected her. “Oh right. We’re using our made up names.” she whispered, giggling heading towards the Cantina.

He stood there for a second, looking you up and down. You knew him well enough behind the mask to notice what he was doing. “Don’t fucking even,” you scoffed, following the bubbly girl into the Cantina. “Don’t what?” he asked, following you confused into the loud bar.

You felt the tears begin to well up in your eyes. Making your way to the bathroom, you shook Din’s hand off of yours trying to gain your attention. “Please,” you yelled a little too loudly, yanking your hand away and making a bee line towards the restroom.

You slammed the stall door shut and waited for the heavy beskar boots to follow you in. He wasn’t the type to leave you. Ever. You waited.

And waited.

And waited. And they never came.

Sitting on the toilet sobbing, you barely remembered Grogu was there. Another scratch on your chest reminded you that he was hungry.

“I know, I know. I’m sorry.” you sniffled, wiping your eyes and attempting to clean up your red face.

Staring at yourself in the bathroom mirror felt stupid. You had so much pity for yourself. Your braid has become more loose than it was this morning. Strands of loose hair rested next to your face. Your boots had mud on them. Now was not the time to be critiquing yourself but you couldn’t help it. How could you not? Natalie was beautiful, more pretty than you’d ever be. Right?

This time Grogu let out a small growl and you gave in. Turning the corner, you were grabbed near the exit and thrown back into the bathroom.

Laying on the floor confused, you looked up at your attacker. A giant creature with blue horns stared down at you with a smirk on his face.

“I saw that pretty bag of coins on your wrist, ma’am.” he scowled, pointing his long knife down at you. “I would appreciate if we did this the easy way.” he said cracking his neck in both directions.

The blade rested on the middle of your chest. Grogu, being the curious creature he is poked his head out of your swaddle you had made him.

“Well well well, what is this?” he asked, moving the knife to bump the scarf you had around your chest. “I think I will be taking both.” he smiled, revealing his yellow crooked teeth.

Panic flashed your mind as you rolled over, shielding Grogu from his grasp. He let out a loud yell in anger and didn’t hesitate to swipe his dagger at your shoulder, leaving a pretty nasty cut.

“Fuck!” you yelled out in pain, holding the open wound.

Grogu being the good boy he is (he deserves another frog) rolled out of your grasp and waved his tiny hand in the air. The dagger flew from the attackers hand and right into your grasp.

“Good boy,” you whispered as you didn’t hesitate to stab the man near his groin. He cried out in pain as you twisted the knife, then pulled it out. It was covered in purple blood.

You scooped up Grogu and made your way back into the crowded Cantina. You spotted Din with his elbow resting comfortably on the counter talking to Natalie.

“… and then Greef started to complain about-”

“We need to go.” you said in a low voice, grabbing his hand and pulling in the opposite direction. “What?” he asked. “What’s that?” Natalie asked loudly, pointing at the dripping dagger in your hand.

“Shut it for once, won’t you?” you yelled at her. A wave of concern flew over Natalie’s face. “Hey!” Din yelled, sticking his finger in your face. You had to ignore the intrusive thought to bite it.

A large roar came from the Cantina bathroom exit. Everyone’s eyes turned to the creature. “You little bitch!” the man yelled, meeting your eyes in the crowd.

“We need to go.” you ordered, slipping out of the entrance. Looking behind you and gripping Grogu close, you ran to the speeder. Din quickly followed without Natalie on his tail.

You straddled the speeder as you heard your attacker’s yells from behind you. He was a few feet behind Din. At that point, Natalie began to stumble out of the Cantina.

Din held up his hand, signaling for you to start the speeder. The wound on your arm throbbed. With one hand cradling a sleeping Grogu and the other on the speeder handle, you prepared for the worst.

Din made it just in time. “Go go!” he yelled, grabbing your waist tightly as you sped off. That man and Natalie were left in the dust.

The speeder tumbled as you reached the crest. You meant to get fuel on your way back, but that obviously didn’t get to happen.

As the two of you finally stopped, you sat for a moment in silence.

Finally, you flipped around. You handed Din a sleeping Grogu and turned to go back in the crest. Your face was stone cold.

“Are you okay?” Din asked wearily. He was most definitely not getting a response. You walked through the hatch and made it to the medical cabinet. It was funny, you had forgot you had put on a white shirt today and not a crimson one.

“Is that blood?” he asked, removing his helmet and setting Grogu inside of it. He liked to nap there sometimes, it was warm and smelt of his father.

“Why do you care? I’m surprised your not back on your speeder going to find Natalie.” you hissed, cutting your sleeve off to reveal the wound.

“Fuck!” you yelled as the bloody sleeve rolled down your arm. “What? Cy’are what happened?” Din asked, rushing to your aid. “Get away from me.” you hissed back at him, struggling to see straight. “Let me help.” he demanded. “Go ffffucking find her.” you slurred.

Blood was definitely lost.

“Sit for gods sake.” he yelled, pulling up a chair behind you. He pulled out the bacta cream and bandages. “You b-better not fucking touch me Din Djarin,” you yawned.

Ignoring you, he wiped the blood away from the wound. It wouldn’t need stitches, but it would leave a nasty scar. He applied the cream and wrapped your arm up. “Too tight?” he asked, his eyes peering into yours.

“I don’t know why your so worried about me when we left Natalie out there.” you bitched. “Seriously Y/N, too tight or not.” he said ignoring your comment.

“You told her your name?” you slurred, the blood loss just beginning to regenerate.

“What? No. She heard you call me it last night.”

“Oh.”

“Why were you all over her? You could barely even speak to me. It’s obvious that you were just going to leave me somewhere and take her instead.” you mumbled, staring at your muddy and now bloodied boots.

“What?” Din asked, astonished. “What are you talking about, Cy’are?”

He bent down in front of you, his hands on both of your thighs. “Don’t lie,” you said, turning your head away from his. Tears began forming in your eyes.

“Your in love with her Din.”

Din wrapped his arms around your waist and rested his head on your thighs. “You are dreaming, my love.”

“Then why did you-”

“I stayed with her because I thought you couldn’t stand her. I thought I was doing you a favor.” he explained.

I mean he wasn’t wrong.

“But what about-”

“Shh,” he shushed you. “I’m horrible but I’m glad we left her at the Cantina. I didn’t know how much longer I could have gone with her constantly at my hip. I couldn’t be with you, I was starting to loose my mind.”

You carefully grabbed a handful of his brown curly hair. You always forgot how soft it was, never being able to touch it under all that beskar.

“Really?” you sniffled, using your other hand to wipe the tear away.

“We have about another 45 minutes to get off this planet.” he hummed into your jeans, kissing your thigh before returning upright.

“I can’t believe you thought I liked her better,” Din scoffed, now towering over you.

“You let her use your blaster?” you questioned. “She grabbed it.” he sighed, laughing at your question. “So am I allowed to touch it now?” “Absolutely not.”

“But why did you ignore me then? Not even anything. No good morning kiss or sleeping in the same bed or…” “Oh.” he sighed. “I thought you wanted to keep it quiet? Not let her know. I’m sorry,”

“I’d let the whole galaxy see you touch me,” you mumbled. A smile rose to Din’s lips.

His hand turned to your cheek, cupping it ever so lightly. His thumb brushed over your lips. He bent down, giving you a soft kiss on your tear stained lips.

“You over anyone, cy’arika. How I’ve missed you.”

•

yes don’t worry grogu was fed he is well taken care of don’t call cps trust me he got all the frogs and eggs he wanted after that day

tag list: @dani5216 @uwiuwi @alohastyles-x @samanthacookieone @maddieinnit0 @alexxavicry @salliebley @peeta-is-useless @bubsonnobx @kirsteng42

bonus:

You lay in his warm grasp for the first time in over a week. His warm skin rested on yours. The hum of the open galaxy surrounding the ship filled your ears. Din’s messy hair sat on him well. His arms ran across your bare chest, holding you with ever such ease. His breaths became more shallow with each second.

“Hey,” he whispered groggily in your ear, pulling you closer. “Mhm,” you replied, pushing yourself into his embrace. You were expecting an ‘I love you’ or ‘I missed your body’ or something romantic.

“Did you remember my nuts? The dragon berry ones?”

“God dammit Din,” you sighed, closing your eyes.

“Did you remember?” he asked, sitting up in bed and peering down at you with a raised eyebrow.

“No Din. I forgot your fucking nuts.”

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morallyinept · 7 months

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Tendrils - A Din Djarin One Shot

Summary: Admiring his art, The Mandalorian loves to tie you up in knots. A Kinbaku/Shibari session with your Nawashi Rope Master, Din Djarin.

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader (No name or physical description of reader. It’s you, bub.)

Word Count: 5.6k.

Scoville Smut Rating:🌶️🌶️🌶️ “You tell me I’m doing well, and then, you try to kill me.”

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.

Warnings/Triggers: BDSM themes/Kinbaku/Shibari/rope play/suspension/restraint/all consensual/soft dom Din/unprotected PIV (wrap up, folks!)/oral M receiving/gagging/fingering/light choking/praise/all the good stuff.

NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ. ☝🏻Don’t come at me - you’ve been plenty warned.

I write for me, and I share with you. If this story isn't to your taste, that's fine. Just slip quietly out the back door. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.

Author’s Note: Originally inspired from my Pedro Boys & Kinks Ramble. Shibari is the ancient Japanese art of bondage rope tying. Kinbaku takes this same skill, but in a more emotional and sensual direction. In this story Din is your Nawashi Master. A Nawashi is a skilled rope artist who concentrates on the communication with a partner and includes sensual emotion through a heightened state of rope suspension and play. I love the idea of Din being a more gentle rope rigger enthused more so by the art of it. So here he is. 🥰

MASTERLIST | DIN DJARIN MASTERLIST

Enjoy! 🖤

As you peer up through the window into the depths of deep space, the galaxy sprawls before your eyes in a mesmerising display of colours and wonder.

The scene evokes a sense of awe and insignificance, as you’re confronted with the sheer scale and beauty of the cosmos. It never fails to render you wholly incapacitated; here, and on your knees for it.

The first thing that strikes you is the vastness of it all. The galaxy stretches out seemingly without end, with countless stars dotting the inky expanse.

Some stars appear as brilliant points of light, while others form clusters and constellations; their patterns etching stories of their lifetimes in the night sky.

Tinctures dance the canvas. The stars vary in hue, from the cool, icy blues of young, hot stars to the warm, fiery oranges and reds of ageing giants. Interstellar clouds of gas and dust provide a striking contrast to the stars.

These nebulae come in shades of pink, purple, but mostly blue; their ethereal glow creating a sense of otherworldly beauty that you never tire of.

Serving as the cosmic nurseries where new stars are born, and their colours reflect the processes of star formation and destruction. Life and death. An ouroboros of never-ending repetition.

Amidst the wonder, you glimpse the faint, ghostly tendrils of spiral arms, hinting at the structure of the galaxy itself. These spirals are composed of stars, dust, and gas, swirling in intricate patterns that pull your gaze deeper into the cosmic abyss.

Naked, and on your knees, glancing up at it all with big, curious eyes from within the dark, muted shadows of the docked Razor Crest awaiting its next charge, you are still.

Unmoving.

You understand why Din has you engage in this ritual before you begin; it’s pertinent to challenge the perseverance through the discomfort.

A euphoric catharsis; a form of calming meditation as you sink into the enveloping arms of deep space, before you fall into your subspace.

A moment of stillness, that’s all he seeks from you. A moment of calm in the chaos surrounding him through the vortexes of the universe.

Din observes you quietly, eyes shrouded under Beskar steel; his silhouette bleeding into the shadows of a Rorschach inkblot on the periphery of your vision.

A moment of stillness, that’s all he covets. And you give it to him so willingly. His obedient chattel, freely surrendering into the symbiotic relationship created between you both in your mutual lust for the bind.

He looks across at you and he feels the stillness swell in you; motion and fluidity traded for practiced silence and strict immobility. He approaches and when you look up into the T-shape visor, his voice rousing you to do so, your own reflection mirrors back, albeit a little wobbly.

He feels the stillness within him too when you look up at him like that. The calming of the bountiful tides from those sparkly peepers of yours.

The rope is ready, all laid out on the cot in its serpentine coils. Plentiful and scarlett. Silken, yet binding in its bite if he allows it to be. Recalling from the thesaurus of knots in his mind, he visits the exquisite Eden of his preselections.

He reaches up to test the metal ring above the cot; solid and unwavering in its Beskar rigidity of course. Pulling on it, his strength flexes in his bare sculpted arm, and it stirs you from the sights out the window of the ship.

A slight tilt of your head at the sight of him taut and muscular. The physicality of a Mandalorian comes not without its scars, but to you he is simply wondrous in all his marring.

You try to remain composed as you steal a glance at him, but your body is heated. Swollen and already wet between your thighs for what is to come.

He is soon felt at your nape, the small ghost of his fingers sending shivers through each nodule of your spine. Your toes tingle as you sit on them, kneeling and waiting patiently for him to let you fly.

Helping you to your numbed feet, Din guides you through a few slow stretches; your naked back flush to his bare chest mirrored in the window at you; centered in the silvery aura of his pale glow.

His large hands gently glide across your supple form as he lifts your arms and you feel the cracks loosening your joints furthermore as he manipulates you into shapes. Pliant and wanting and he folds you out.

He pulls back on your arms and you feel your shoulders open. He instructs you to fall as far forward as you can keeping your feet docked in between his, and you don't hesitate at his gentle instruction.

You hum out as you feel the stretch arch through your back and legs.

He worships you in this moment, in the quietude before; the thrill of your surrender. The sentient life of your trust blooming its fruit.

“Do you feel prepared enough?” His modulated voice is soft through the static.

You nod softly, feeling no vice of tension lick at your abdomen.

“Words, please.” His voice is delicate, yet commanding.

He knows how to pitch his tenor; to be heard only by you, even in the cold, distant hums of the Razor Crest. Even in the swarmed crowds in the marketplace on Navarro.

“Yes. I’m ready,” you breathe. You’re always ready for him; the telltale heat felt on your cheeks and collarbone confirm it.

He draws a deep breath of his own, preparing. It crackles in your ear as he exhales.

"Breathe. Move only through your stillness. Be at one with the calm. Tell me to stop if you require."

You nod, obeying him. Falling furthermore into him.

He swears he can feel you grow closer in those moments of your calm obedience; your roots finding their way through his damp soil as he waters you to bloom.

Din shows you the rope he will use for this session, letting you feel it with your fingers, absolving any ligaments of fear you may have.

The rope is his tool; a chisel with which he carves you into new shapes through methodical repetition. And it's a tool that brings a comforting sense of tranquility almost immediately as you fondle it.

His hands glide up the sides of your waist as you take it from him to inspect and enjoy and you shudder as goose pimples flood your torso.

He strokes towards the mounds of your breasts where he cups over them, pinching the nipples that stiffen gently as he rolls them between his thumb and forefinger.

You hiss in rapture at the pull and squeeze of them; the cool weight of his helmet is pressed against the back of your skull as you mew gently around your gasps.

“Mmm,” you whine and he approves with a groan of his own. Groping gently and feeling how your nipples harden still.

"Distracted?" You ask with a coy smirk.

"Always," he confirms with a ghostly murmur as he watches you hiss again as he pulls a little tighter on your nipples.

He’ll tease you like this as he binds you; stopping momentarily to touch your skin, marvelling as your warm flesh turns pimply with the trails of his digits that tickle and tingle.

He’ll take his sweet time in annihilating you.

He takes the rope back from you; ataraxy settles in your features. You can see it in the mercury sheen of his helmet as he turns to unwind the jute silk from its sleeping coil.

He pauses for a moment, perhaps in reflection, perhaps in some unknown hesitation. His thumb brushes against the cleft of your bottom lip affectionately. A last confirmation of your willingness to relinquish the exquisite restriction of your control.

He drops his hand and then he begins.

Din always ties you tightly, but never constricts to the force of unbearability. He knows how to apply the right pressures into your skin, your veins.

Din knows just how you like it.

He knows this is what your energy demands of him in the moment, akin to his own. You give your all to him whilst he knots the rope delicately around your limbs as you become one with it.

He feels it each time you sag, relax fully into the depths of your submission. Hears the pliant murmurs of your sighs as they leave your mouth and slip up inside his helmet for him to taste and swallow down with your sweetness.

Your complicitness in your trust for your Nawashi Master always astounds him.

In the delicate artistry of his preferred practice of Kinbaku, the first knot Din chooses is the Hishi Karada. A full torsoed harness that resembles diamonds when woven across the front of your body.

The silken lines snake up and around your neck like a halter; a living entity slithering sensually over your skin. He watches your reactions as he fastens and loops; the way your eyes dilate and your smile widens.

Then follows the Takate-Kote. Chest loading for the final suspension, your arms are crossed gently behind your back, holding onto each elbow. He slides the loops into place around your wrists.

Your bare chest presented out to him further as the cavity is restrained and pushed forward; nipples tight and hardening again as he fashions the rope into twists between your breasts.

He draws the line around and over, criss-crossing delicately. He curves and braids and pulls tight to cinch, and soon the first bindings of your ropes are complete around the diamonds.

“How does that feel, good?” Din checks in with you, stopping entirely until you give him a verbal response.

“Yes,” you nod. “It feels good. Comfortable.”

"Then I'm doing it wrong," you hear him chuckle gently and you smirk.

"No. It's always perfect. Like you."

He stops again for a moment and you feel him looking at you from under the helmet, slightly cocked to one side as he regards you silently.

It makes your skin warm again after a few moments, the intensity of his gaze on you; even if you can't see it.

The anfractuous dance continues over your skin as he gathers himself and attaches the second line of rope. Silken trails are bound snug against your flesh and feel weighted - secure. You’re not going anywhere once he has you.

Din succumbs to the rhythm of the tie. Each weave calls to him and he yields to its haunting Siren song.

A candescent mesmerisation in a shrill undoing of his soul. The flow of the rope, the flow of you all around him; the flood of blood to the end of his heavy cock.

After a fairly short passing of time, the Takate-Kote is complete, and you stand before him bound in the invitation of your innocence.

The ample curve of your breasts rising and falling of their own with each deep breath you take; swollen and further bouyant by the ropes lifting them to their maximum pertness.

Din attaches the first of the longer lines that will suspend you fully; his hand closing around your throat gently to pull you closer towards him as he works.

When you swallow, he can feel it against his palm as he threads through the ring and pulls you up onto the bone of your big toes; his elegant ballerina.

You feel his fingers stroke through the nape of your hairline and you shudder.

He kneels then, to worship at your feet, more of the jute attached in his hands. Din turns his helmeted head up at you and your reflection greets you back once more.

You're a vision in scarlet lines and knots against your flesh. You beam down at him in your satiated grace enjoying the feeling it evokes.

"This amuses you?" He takes note of your jaw stretched wide in that blinding grin he knows only too well.

"No," you smile wider.

"Well, it amuses me. Greatly. "

"Sadist." You chirp and he tugs on the rope with severity making you jostle again and your giggles tinker out of you freely and more ungraceful. "You play dirty." You snort.

"That's surely the only way to play." Din clicks jubilantly. "Hold still."

He gently folds your left leg back first; heel pressed to the back of your thigh top, and starts scribing the story of the Futomomo Spiral on your skin like a brand.

He knows this will be a challenge for you, but you're resolute in your eagerness to withstand, to endure. To please the bounty hunter who captured your heart.

He senses that from you; he senses your limits and knows how far to push you and when to retrieve you from that place where pleasure morphs into torrid pain.

Sometimes, he’ll let you pendulum between the two; he knows that you want to taste it as its heat licks at your curiosity.

Careful and slow with his ties, Din weaves the sinuous ladders cinching down each line.

He tugs gently and you feel it on your pressure points. Your heightened gasp floods his blood with liquid heat when he does it once more.

“Good?” He checks in again, his thumb circling the meat of your inner thigh, inches from your bare sex.

The scent of you wafts under his helmet making his mouth salivate.

“Yes,” you confirm again through a breathy sigh.

You can feel the dull ache in your leg now that it’s up, leaving you balancing tenderly on your right big toe as you strictly steady yourself from your core not to waver or swing.

You giggle again when you fail, leaning and twirling, and he smiles in response in the secretive confines of his helmet. He never scolds you for laughing; he enjoys that music too much.

He takes your other leg, and repeats the same pattern and you’re suspended from the ring completely, swaying gently against him as he finishes off the beautifully delicate pattern.

Din stands, gathering the last of the rope and pulling backwards as you arch and tip forward, hair falling into your face. He pauses for a moment, glorifying again in the feel of your body pressed close to him whilst he secures you in precise, mathematical knots.

Nose pressed flush against his shoulder where a prominent scar welts there in its ferociousness, and you can’t help but to taste the salt of the ridge as you plant a delicate kiss there.

It disorientates him for a moment; you hear the soft whoosh of his breath flow out from under the helmet warming your cheek.

"Now who's playing dirty, hmm?" He teases.

Din's last step is to braid the remaining overhang of the line into your hair. He scoops it gently out of your face, granting you your vision back as he secures the braid at the end. His fingers weaving across your skull emits a low simper from you.

You squirm and pout as he pushes you back into the air and stills you by the shoulders.

"Almost there, Mesh’la."

Din finally ties you off, pulling you higher as you mourn the loss of his touch. His breath is now coming slow and steady; that calm absolving him of the primaeval misdeeds of his bounties.

He smiles and strokes your cheek tenderly as you let your head fall forward into gravity where you'll hang for a time determined only by him.

“There,” his voice is a whisper, canted in the grizzled tones that only you can hear. The ground beneath his feet ripples like water as he admires the finished sculpture of your form.

He can feel your bliss flooding you; the elation of your aura bursting around the embrace of the ropes, sinking into the fibres to glow with you. You’re a vision in your contortion. How a God would craft his kin from his rib.

He instigates one last check of your restraints before he settles back on the cot underneath you, flat on his back and propped up by the cushion of his bicep under his helmet.

Watching keenly as his masterpiece sways and rotates gently in a slow orbit above him to the backdrop of the cosmos outside.

He watches from inside the helmet as the vacillation of your constricted ballet gravitates above him. An angel clipped of their wings; your body pretzeled into a shape that defies profundity. He watches, he exudes calm.

He’s found his stillness at last.

A low moan slips from your lips, rousing him back from his utopia. It's then he notices the shine; the singular bead of your slick glistening as it makes a track down your inner thigh. He’s exposed you fully to him and his cock twitches in response at your pleasure in him doing so.

He longs to taste it; to feel that sweet tang dance over his taste buds again and flood his mouth like juicy fruit. He could have you for as long as he wanted, you'd just have to take it.

Take all of him as he pummels, as he fucks without abandon. Pulling you back onto him controlled only by the swing of the rope; his violence planting flowers under your skin, cracking you open as they bloom.

You’d be unable to move, to resist as he pulls your pleasure from you in droves and drowns you in his own. Works you through the overstimulation you feel after you come, forcing you to confront it for however long he pleases and you'd shudder and cry that you can't take anymore. All you could do is take as he gives.

Your face is what captures him again; stills any restlessness he unwittingly clings to fully. Blissed out, your mouth slack and your pupils wide. High in your subspace as you dangle above him; a twirling pirouette frozen in movement for him to marvel at.

In that fleeting, dreamy moment, Din understands that euphoria is not just an individual sensation; it’s something that could be heightened when two souls come together in perfect harmony to share.

You’re the pliant, obedient ying to his commanding yet soothing yang. He feels it bleed into him from you.

You watch above him; his form spinning slowly on the cot as you turn on an axis. See how his hand strokes along the pallet of his chest, down to the soft plume of his stomach and grips tightly over his cock. Squeezing and cupping the heavy weight of it through his pants as he strangles a groan.

You bite your lip, you want him so badly when you’re so open and exposed like this. When you fly for him. Just the way he constructed you to. Holes ready and waiting to be filled if he so wishes.

Or he could leave you wanting, contracting around nothing in a frozen anticipation.

Craving for him to fill you and take from you as you’re helpless in your binds. For him to enjoy this exquisite piece of art he's crafted out of you.

And the exquisitiness of it all is that you never know if he will or not.

Your knees and ankles ache; the dull thrum of the blood pumping harder around the knots to keep your limbs on the precipice of a pleasant numbness.

Your conscious thoughts are a mere whisper; a single nagging moment quickly lost amidst the chaos of desire and need for the Mandalorian who has constructed you from clay with his thick, calloused fingers.

Bringing you in warm to experience the highest sensations of pleasure: this is the way he shows his love.

His flight suit and steel have been long traded for soft Harem pants hanging dangerously low on his waist. A faint smattering of dark curls trail from below his belly button into the front of them and you glimpse the obvious bugle that swells within them that he fondles brazenly.

Watching hungrily as he now slips his hand inside the front, you whimper and struggle against your bindings. Your body jerks in that wanton haze.

A noise similar of that to a swamp Dagobah escapes you on a croaked strangle.

“Patience,” his voice is tensile, and yet somehow discernible above the tumult of the blood now pumping in your ears; its sonorous strains slipping between frenetic chaos to find you mindlessly incoherentat the sight of his swell.

You tremble at the overwhelming power in his voice, and you know you’ll always do whatever he asks of you.

Feral intensity spikes hard inside your cunt as Din pulls his hard, weeping cock out of his pants. The swollen head, a flush pink, he runs his thumb over the glistening diamond of precum that sparkles at you and you lick your lips involuntarily wishing you could taste it.

Your arousal and the dampness between your thighs is prevalent as your skin begins to bead with sweat. Heat flooding over your limbs furthermore. The fine tendrils at the back of your neck, missed from the braid, stick to it.

Din pumps his cock languidly, but you can feel the grip of his fingers tighten around his thick shaft pinch all over your flesh that isn’t bound.

Absorbing his passion, your own builds, coating the lips of your cunt in glistening concupiscence.

He seeks to remind you of your tangible agony with those snuffled grunts he pollutes around the Razor Crest, echoing around his ears inside the helmet, and you can hear their veracity as they intensify with the motion of his wrist.

“Please,” you whine above him; your body twirling around faster as you struggle and itch against the fibres.

“What do you seek?” His words are a taunt, not so much a question and you can hear the slick around his teeth through the modulator as he grins. He enjoys your agony very much when you're strung above him like this.

Delicate. Helpless.

“Please, Din. Don't make me beg.” You pout again as he speeds up and the sounds of the gentle slaps of his wet dick inside his fist supernovas on your clit.

"Why? I enjoy it when you beg."

“You, I need...” You're panting now. His jerking intensifies, as do his groans.

“There’s a place amongst the stars for you soon." His body tenses as he works himself into a frenzy. Teasing the fractals of your distress to the surface.

You can only watch as he pleasures himself below you. So near, yet so incredibly far; separated by a vast expanse of the galaxy outside. The agony it births within you starts to crush your bones as you writhe against the knots.

“Find your stillness,” he commands in a soothing tone; his voice jostling from his speedy fisting around his cock. You stop struggling, the bite around your limbs begins to lessen instantly.

You whine furthermore as you watch him; he denies you what you so desperately want.

“Please…” Your voice is strangled by the patheticness of your requisite. And it's enough to make him break in his own selfish need to deny you any further.

Din Djarin can never deny you.

Sitting upright, he pulls on the line descending you gently towards him. Laying back, you hover over him like an apparition, scant inches above his skin.

He maps out your route, controlling your mouth on his torso, where he wants your tongue as you kiss and lick wet tracks over him, barely reaching his flesh at times. Your constant battle for his loins amuses him in your desire to resist him, yet the Mandalorian’s resolve only takes him so far.

"Open," he instructs and your lips part.

Weakened by you, he feeds you his cock, finally, allowing it to slip between your lips. A grunt escapes as he slides into your mouth, meeting with the wet, spongy flesh at the back of your throat.

“That’s it, good.” Din whines, his hands on the back of your head gently; right fist wound around your roped braid and tugging it, controlling your depth. He knows all too well how eager you are to swallow him down. But he wants this to last.

"So good for me."

Breathy husks escape him, rattling through the modulator and out into the ether. The obscene wet sounds of your earnest sucking and his dirty grunts, makes you pulse.

The prominent, swollen vein on the underside of his cock warms to the surface by your mouth and you feel your lips ridge over it.

“More,” Din instructs through a wheeze.

You open up further, relaxing your throat at his command and he slips in further still. Deeper into the crevice of your trachea and you feel the heaves already swelling at the bottom of your gut.

"Relax. Wider for me. You can take it all, I know you can... That's it. So good when you relax for me..."

Slowly, and with gentle cajoling, you take him fully, right down to his balls where your chin sinks into the plumpness of them.

Your nostrils are tickled by the soft scratch of pubic fuzz around the base of his shaft. You inhale soap, his own salty musk and the faint aroma of metal.

Another satisfied grunt escapes from under the helmet. You flick your tear-filled eyes up to see the shape of his chin pointed to the sky from within the helmet. The faint shadows of light stubble that dance over it and entice you to lick the roughness there.

You've never seen his face, have never bore witness to the spectacle of it. And yet you know every feature, every crook of his smile and every flex of his brow underneath the Beskar when he finds his pleasure.

Closing your eyes, you're mindful of your respect, and just enjoy the sounds he makes for you instead.

"There you go... this is what you wanted, hmm?" He fucks your mouth deeply; gentle rhythmic thrusts from his hips as you moan and drool around the fullness of him.

A thick, pearly strand of your saliva plops onto his thigh as it dangles from your mouth. His cock lubricated wholly in your eagerness to please.

He pulls out momentarily to stroke it all over himself, slather up his cock with your sputum before pushing it between your lips once more.

"Again."

You gasp and heave. Your eyes water and finally spill tears over your cheeks from the strain.

"Beautiful," he whispers. His thumbs smear them away. A choke splutters out of you as he nudges against the gag reflex, the back of your throat clamping around him involuntarily in response.

The punch either side of his thick head makes him groan deeply. His fingers twist around your scalp as he pushes himself fully into the hilt of your throat.

Your pussy is dripping, you can feel it sticking on the insides of your thighs and your clit aches with a pinch of pain sparking as you suck.

You squeeze, chasing the exalted feeling as your pelvic floor contracts against the right places inside of you and you moan around him; the hum on his bulbous head in your throat delighting him furthermore.

Din knows what you're doing though, your squirming pulls him from the throes of his pleasure as he sits up and reaches his arm across the roped pleats over your back.

"So needy..." His fingers swipe down your crack, prodding at your lips; slipping down into the gooey ribbons of your pussy as your face remains buried in his crotch - his cock still in the back of your skull as you suck on it eagerly.

The whine you let go of tribs around his length as he swipes his pads across the nub of your clit. Your body jerks in response. He slides his fingers inside your hole that’s so ready for him; drenched and so tight.

Din feels it as you come almost instantly from a few pumps of his fingers; studies your face as he pulls his cock out of your mouth, listens to the sounds you make from his fingers fapping harder inside you.

"You're going to do that for me again, Mesh'la."

He brings you to the edge once more, and instead of holding you back or denying you, he lets you fly. He wants to see your colours and bask in their vividness as they blind him. To feel you tighten and constrict around his fingers.

"So beautiful."

He knows this is real, knows that he makes you feel these things for him as your eyes roll back and that heat floods your body, rising from the pit of your core like a sleeping giant.

Snapping back like an elastic band. Wandering through the realms of sheer euphoria with a kindred spirit to guide the way.

“Din!” You yelp as your bound body twists and contorts, and he keeps you steady in the air on the end of his fingers. "It's too much, I-"

"There is no such thing as too much. Your body wants it. Silence your mind and let it soar."

"Mmm, yes!"

“Give yourself to me…” He instructs. “Let me have all of you.” Din slaps your pussy, the thunder from his gargantuan palm shooting into your clit and all through your body.

It moves at his command, arching and twisting as it yields. "Let go..."

And you do. You flood his fingers as he reinserts them; silken and warm as you expand and float off to be at one with the gaseous stars.

Din loosens the line fully and manoeuvres you onto your back on the cot. Sitting above your face, meaty thighs either side of it, he strokes your bottom lip. His breath catches as you kiss it.

"You flew."

You nod. "Yeah."

"You think you can fly some more?"

"Yes." You quiver.

"Good. Open." He plunges his cock in deep into your throat as you choke and gag around it, only pulling out when he knows you will need to take a breath, timing it in his head. Timing how long you could take it before you’d turn blue like the nebulae and splutter.

"Breathe... like I taught you. Use your nose."

Breathing correctly, you can keep him there, at the back of your larynx as he fucks your face with a little more vigour now; your wet, gummy flesh pulsing against the head of him as you try to intake air and he makes it last that bit longer each time.

He grips gently around your throat as he reaches back and pinches your clit, rolling it through his fingers tightly and making you gasp from the overstimulation.

Your eyes roll into the back of your head from lack of oxygen and too much pleasure as the shock waves of your orgasm continue to tingle and burn their way through you until you're smashed dust amongst the stars.

Din looks down at you through the T-visor, taking you all in as he makes you his art, his finest masterpiece yet. The knots and weaves moving as one with your body.

He pulls out again, groaning as you suck one of his balls eagerly into your mouth, his other hand stroking the length of his cock that’s fatter and twitching around his fist. A cerise pink head that's angry and wanting, and leaking again.

He’s so close. He wants you to have him, have you swallow him down into your belly. He instructs you to spit on it and he watches with abject rapture as you decorate him in foamy crystal strings.

He growls at the sight of it, and it makes all your ribs snap.

You suck him down again and swallow deep, feeling him prod at the back of your throat once more as he guides and controls you with subtle flexes of his hips; his hand knotting in your braid. His grunts are felt on the end of your clit, his satisfaction tingling all through your body.

He can't hold on much longer, he wants you. Want to feel you milk him of his resolve. Take from him what he wants you to have.

He unties you from the ring, catching you steady in his arms as he sits back with you, lifting you into his lap. Your arms are still bound around your back and legs still bent into his crafted shapes.

“I've got you, cyar'ika.” He assures as he holds you steady and he feels you relax into his grip keeping you upright. “Sing for me,” he groans as he sinks you down onto his hard cock and you gasp at the intrusion of his swell.

"Mmmaaha," you whine, dizzy and hot.

"I know, just a little more. Move with me." Din whispers. "That's it, good. Keep it going."

You ride him slowly, gently as his arms wrap you up and hold you close to him, almost crushing the life out of you as his hips buck up to meet yours in this sensual grind.

He's so deep like this. You gasp out, letting go as he fills you up, stretching you open; making you detach and lose yourself in this moment inside the safe lock of his arms - inside of him.

You're gone. Completely dissociated and only he is your God. Your Kad Ha'rangir. You’re not afraid to be lost with him. And he knows that eventually, you will help him find his way out too.

Ephaptic coupling, synapses firing, neutron stars colliding; you burst open from your seams with a choked screech, your skin tight around the bindings and rope, and yet you don't feel them anymore. You feel free as you float and soar and take Din with you by the hand.

Your slick drenches him as your cunt tightens, and he falls with you, letting himself explode with you and calling out for you in his momentary blinding.

His body shudders as he releases, filling you to the brim with his plentiful warmth; coming hard and feeling like he'll never stop.

Smashed. Wrecked. Gone. Your bodies are just empty husks until the gold of your souls return from the vastness of space to rejoin the sensations that still ebb and flow in your veins.

"There," he gasps a little while after he's reborn. "Breathe... slowly. Deep."

Your forehead falls weakly against the coolness of his helmet; a soft bonk as your breath fogs it up whilst you inhale slowly in and out, coming back to dreamy reality and leaving the stars hanging in the universe where they belong.

Din's fingers dance over the thin skin of your lips. You taste them as you delicately kiss the pads of them, one by one as they pass, tender and sweet. Your eyes find his behind the helmet and despite not glimpsing them or knowing their true colour, you can still see them.

You place a gentle kiss on the side of the helmet; your lip print soon a ghostly fade.

"How are you hanging in there?" Din asks, a gentle tug on your woven restraints.

Your breathy giggle answers him and he knows now that this is what it must feel like to die.

You feel him begin to loosen the knots against your back after some time of cradling you against his chest. Listening to his heartbeat as it slows to a natural beguiling rhythm that makes you sleepy.

Slowly, your arms are freed; the ache in your bones is palpable as you wind your shoulders out. He frees your legs and lays you back on the cot admiring the welted indents that have left trenches of their patterns in your skin.

He traces them with a wandering fingertip, eliciting shudders from you as he trawls over your body before massaging the feeling back into your calves.

“Please, eyes closed, Mesh'la.” Din exhales and you respect his wish to be unbroken in his creed. You close your eyes and wait. Wait for the bow to break and then you'll fall into the starry abyss again as his lips finally greet your skin.

It's always the part of your sessions that you long for the most.

Din removes his helmet, placing it close by on the cot. The trust he has in you not to open your eyes is felt blossoming in your ventricles. You remain true to your promise and never take a sneaky peep.

You feel his soft lips kiss along the intricate indents on your flesh, tasting and licking around the swirls, the places where your skin turned a dark shade of mauve.

He gives life to your blood as it flows back into the tingly limbs.

You reach blindly into his crown, rifling through the softness of his hair; slightly damp around the nape of his neck as he kisses further up your body.

Din stops to gently suck your nipple into his mouth and pull it out of the puff of your areola to tease. He enjoys the delectable moans it pulls from you far too much. So much so, that it hardens him again.

But he knows you've reached your limit for now as you lay serene on the cot; eyes closed with a heady smile bleached into your features.

You're more beautiful to him now than you've ever been.

He licks up your clavicle towards your lips where he finally tastes you. Slipping his tongue inside your mouth, waltzing with yours as the warm flesh of his thick cock lays against the inside of your thigh.

"Din..." you croon, reaching blindly for him between your aching legs, but he stops you.

"Rest now. I'm here. You need sleep." He pulls you closer to him, cocooning you into the protective shell of his battered body.

It feels like forever since he was this close; this bound and tied to you in equal measure.

As he kisses you deeply, you wait with a satiated eagerness slipping under your heavy eyes for the next time when your Mandalorian, your Nawashi Master; your Kad Ha'rangir… Your Din Djarin of Clan Mudhorn, lets you fly freely again to the stars.

I really hope you enjoyed Nawashi Master Din! 🥹 I enjoyed writing this so much. Please, let me know your thoughts. I'd always love to hear them. 🖤

MASTERLIST | DIN DJARIN MASTERLIST

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #din djarin #din djarin x reader #pedro pascal characters #the mandalorian #din djarin smut #din djarin x you #din djarin x f!reader #din djarin the mandalorian #jett's writing

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cherubispunk · 7 months

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ICHOR. BLOOD. WATER. (part i // ichor.) - Din Djarin x Witch!AFAB!Reader

summary: stranded. alone. a traitor to your people, your family. aeaea is the prison of paradise you call home, and he is the prophecy you like to call an enigma. the 'man made from metal', forged in fire, melted by your spell that is no witchcraft on your part. he is the hunter, you will always be the prey. it is the way as the fates designed it.

a note from lucy: so, its back. i'm officially back! basically, I went through it. accidentally deleted my blog. had to start from scratch. repost it all. but! I'm here. you're here. we're all here! Greek mythology is a huge love of mine. I always like to add a small sprinkling into my fics where possible. and now im writing one based wholly of two greek myths: eros and phsyche, and circe. I've read Madeleine Miller's 'Circe'. I fell in love with it, it's genuinely one of the best books ive had the pleasure of reading --hence the fact that this is heavily based off it in terms of 'lore'. Din is the perfect character for these myths to be translated into fic. So, without further ado, I present to all you lovely people (again lol), my mythology!au; ICHOR. BLOOD. WATER. for @inklore and @psychedelic-ink's haunted hoedown. A three part fic with our beloved space cowboy. I really hope you enjoy it as I put a lot of time and thought into this. I love you all, you wonderful Pedro fanatics.

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wc: 2255 Warnings: 18+ MDNI! DARK CONTENT! mythology!au, no use of y/n, reader is referred to as 'Circe' twice in this chapter alone, dubcon, smut, p in v sex (unprotected), reference to past sexual assault (very mild), cussing, mentions of witchcraft, voyeurism, mentions of drinking alcohol, mentions of food and descriptions of eating, choking, breath play, oral sex - f receiving, edging, orgasm denial, toxic relationships, dom!din/sub!reader dynamic, sex as a means for manipulation and control, manipulative!din, stockholm syndrome?

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You had done many things under the pseudonym of Circe. Bird. Crow. What your mother and siblings used as a knife to your throat. An insult in the form of a name. One that man whispered in myth around fires. One a sailor would call out in fear upon reaching the shore of any island in the vicinity of Aeaea. It clung to the disgusted curl of their tongue like the tang of sour fruits. Lemons of Sicily. Limes from crete. Wrapped in letter parchment, sweetened with ink.

Across from you is the god responsible for many of those tall tales. In his gold sheathed glory, olive skin gleaming with a ripple of muscle against the warmth of your hearth. Under it flows ichor, steadily. His winged sandals flutter in a twitch every few minutes. A subtle sound that is heard little too often over the lilt of his voice. Hermes. A deity you invited to your bed when he would visit, indulge in the stories of how he stole cattle as mere youngling, delivered messages of ruin to mortals. Travelled the planes of the underworld from the Styx to Elysium Plains. Hades and his sunken eyes on his throne. Where winged sandals would carry him overseas with his travellers cap and staff of entwined twin snakes.

He would sit upon your chair, open his loose lips and a drone would pour out, Maybe to a mortal he would seem all so interesting. One to dote hours of your day to the thick honey like pouring of his voice in your ear. But to you – the witch – a goddess in your own right, he was a mere drag. A rake. A god worthy of being turned to swine at the unjust sight of his curling smirk.

You would have drifted off it weren't for his voice picking up in interest, your ears perking up with it. The high buzz from his drone of white noise faded, ebbing into coherence while his lips drifted in voice. Practised and perfected movement the way any divine being did.

“The fates speak of a man. Made of metal.” He mused, studying his thumb and forefinger as a stand of your lionesses hair was snagged between it. You wished to singe it from his fingertips. “A warrior.” “From overseas of Greece?” Now, and only now, he had your attention.

“Further.”

You muttered a curse under your breath. Where would be further. “He will sail on a ship, strand himself on your shores engulfed with fire. And you shall do as you have before.”

“Take it?” You sneered, sitting forward in your seat, teeth bared at him. “I suppose I shall feed him before he sets his disgusting hands upon me.”

“Oh come now,” He smirked, “Were you not to take him to your bed regardless?”

“I shall sew your mouth shut for such accusations.”

Hermes sighed, rolling his eyes in all his dramatics. Lounging in his seat.

“Circe, you humour me with your feral tongue.”

“And you disgust me with your plight.” “Ah,” he held up a single finger, humour on his face at the top of his curled lip, “I may be bored. But at least I have the world. You, Circe,” he spat, raising a brow in sickening amusement, “have nothing.”

Your face drained of colour. Your heart aching in its chasm of a chest, ribs pinching. He was right. Your oasis was still a prison. Despite its bars of gold, it still held you. Contained you.

He stood in his victory over you, taking one last look around. “One last thing–”

“Oh, there’s more, is there?” You sighed, staying seated. For all his heirs and graces, he was no more worthy of your respect than the dirt caked to your bare feet in winter's first bite. The god merely crossed his arms, a diving wind rustling the blonde curls upon his head, wrapped in laurels,

“You must never look upon his face.”

You sat in a furrowed brow muddle. He had drifted to the wind, turned to a shimmering spectacle of dust, in nothing more than a blink.

—

He came with a blundering sputter. In a ship that was no ship of wood that sailed on tides. A hunk of chrome with spitting fans of fiery heat. A thwip through your cloudless skies to crash upon sandy shores.

He came…with a child. A green creature with pointed ears similar to satyrs, no taller than your mid calf, alien to you. Wide hickory eyes that masked his face with innocence, having seen things unspeakable to even brave sailors. And when they sat at your table, piled plentifully with sweet figs, legs of mutton infused with rosemary, steamed and seasoned greens, and honey in its jar, the man of metal left all deserted by his lips. His plate was clean, wine untouched in his cup. Never once needing an added refill. Nor did he speak kindly. Rather, reserved. Gruff, distorted by something in his helmet seemingly fused to his head. While the child chewed on the fleshy roasted bone of lamb.

Rhythms of autumn, songs of summer, ballads of winter watched over you and the meadows you walked. Gardens you tended to. Woods you roamed. And he did too. There was something within him. Under that beskar. It called, howled, growled in insubordination. A vulgar hatred of being vulnerable out in this position. Where you held an advantage of both terrain and power.

So he took in a way he knew. In carnal, biting desire paced by him. Phallically. Reversed the role of who won who, made you beg in your own bed, in the drowning pools of darkness. Never to see his face.

But oh so familiar.

The first time he took you was akin to a memory in the very moment it happened. A haze of something so absurd it couldn't possibly have been true. Played out the way it did. The Mandalorian watched while you bathed. In a creek not too far from the path. A rock for your lioness to splay out over, sunbathe and make her coat gleam gold like the ichor in your veins. Her ears pricked at a sound he made. One you did not hear with your head submerged under the clear pool.

She looked up, lifting her whiskered chin from her large paws, and her eyes met his. He did not fret. Nor did he stop and turn away from the great willow he stood below. Only glanced from her to the curve of your bare chest rippling above the crystal waters rippling surface.

From there, he had stalked you to the deeper parts of the forest where even your familiar did not follow. Watched as a wicker basket was tucked under your arm, flowers and mosses being picked from the ground as you went about gathering pharmakeia for your draughts.

He appeared, bringing his musk while his hand clamped down over your parted lips. Pressed your front firmly into the tree, hands scraped gold raw by the silver birch’s peeling bark.

“Don’t.” He growled upon your demand to turn around. “Face the tree.”

And you obeyed in tandem with the hiss of something– his helmet– as it dropped to the dewy floor by your bare feet. A single kiss, seasoned with sparse prickled hairs was laid to the nape of your neck, a wondrous dichotomy to the events yet to unfold, noises of restraint on the tip of his tongue, the back of his throat. The skirts of your dress were gathered in messy haste, undergarments pulled to the side, revealing the shine of your own slick. How you dreamed in secret nights of this very moment. His taking of you, his claiming of your cunt— grunting while he invaded the tightness of your walls, flayed you open forever like a sacred text, ready for him to read once again.

A large palm of his, gloved in leather, pressed to the nape of your neck where the notch of your spine ended and your skull began to curve, thumb pressed to flesh, fingers curled into gnarled hair. You gasped, cold air nipping the back of your exposed thighs, fully clothed still, yet bent to submission by the masculine will of him. Naked.

The orgasm was The Mandalorians. And the Mandalorians alone. You never questioned the burning ache of pending release. Merely let it simmer in the tight heat of your walls at the mouth of your cervix. His noise still stinging in your ears, shocking the breath from your lungs. He took no time. It was a rush for his release. His domination of the witch of Aeaea.

From that moment onwards, you imagined his lips, recited in drugged sleep to the egyptian cotton and goose down of your pillow. His irises. To write a poem on parchment about something you could not see, nor ever would per his and Herme’s telling. Fingertips itching to feel warmth of skin, not beskar. While his armour was smooth, buffed, polished to shine in rays of Helios's chariot, it was cold to the touch. You had his visage mapped in your mind. Well trodden by fingertips such as the paths by the tall cliffs. The Mandalorian. Nameless. Faceless.

He spent each night for a fortnight in your bed. The first, he parted your legs himself, and the rest they were already spayed open for his wanting. He snuffed the candles with his thumb and forefinger, unsheathing them from his gloves before doing so. You watched with intent from the sheets as his visage dominated the tall door frame. Shoulders broad and intimidating the negative space he occupied. Only when he was shrouded in utter darkness did he remove his helmet, climb his way up to your parted lips. Curating a careful path from them, over the column of your throat, descending your navel to the forbidden fruit gleaming, ripe and juicy for his lips. Ready for his first damning lick of your sex.

Like the apple in the garden of Eden, temptation on Lucifer's forked tongue, he delved deeper, rested his naked face between your tensing thighs. Broad arms, still sheathed in beskar curled under them, dragging you closer to his open mouth while your arousal, slick and thick as honey, drizzled out your weeping hole to his open, wanting mout.

His tongue drew ellipsis over the twitching bud of your clit. Thick and firm, the tip pressing into your cunt, following your hot seam down to your quivering hole. He dipped inside, curling it to draw the taste out. You couldn't see his eyes. But you liked to imagine they were open to feast on the sight of your quivering and naked chest the best he could without the guide of the candlelight. Now snuffed into curling stings of smoke. Staring while you were shaking under the pleasure rolling up from your centre and cascading like a landslide down your spine. It made you shiver. The soft plush of your legs swallowing his exposed ears, the small, neatly trimmed curls tickling the sensitive flesh. His coarse beard, scruff scattered in a smattering over his sharp chin scratching your skin.

A low groan rumbled from the back of his throat, your tang dancing with light feet over his taste buds And his nose bumped into your clit as he tasted more. Devoured your cunt like his last meal.

It wasn't long before you felt the burn behind your eyes replicate in knots in your belly. Tightening at the mouth of your cervix while he ate at you. A cry of his name bursting from your chest as he flicked his tongue with vigour. He had one aim in mind. To taste your release. The sticky mess that would coat his lower face.

“Give it to me.” He commanded. And oh, how you tried. You willingly left this realm while he licked at your pussy, his tongue languidly rolling up one side of your labia, up to your clit and circling it, then down the other side to plunge into your tight, clenching hole once more.

You nimble fingers curled into his hair. It was coarse, wispy at its ends where it started to coil loosely. And you gripped it as you ground your core into his face. RIding and grinding into his face that was exposed to your quivering cunt. Not ready to part with the way his ips enclosed around your clit and added enough suction for you to see Ouranos and all the stars that tattooed his blue skin.

You panted a chorus of heavenly oh’s. Breath came in heavy as he pulled back to spit. You felt it, cold in contrast to your own heat, drooling down to your slick entrance. It quivered when he added a finger, curling up from the second knuckle. It was merely one digit. But it stretched you out, had you reeling while he beckoned your orgasm closer to materialising in your belly.

He could smell the musk of you and it was divine.

He had your orgasm building and building into a near state of harrowing oblivion before he let it rip through you. The first wave was one of numbing pleasure. The one that fizzled through your legs until you were nothing but a mere speck for a second. And then it broke, like some great epiphany from him as an enigma.

He stood, replaced his helmet, leaving you boneless. A quivering, babbling mess of sweat and slick in your own sheets.

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cherub-notifs · 7 months

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ICHOR. BLOOD. WATER. (series masterlist) - Din Djarin x Witch!AFAB!Reader

a note from lucy: so, its back. i'm officially back! basically, I went through it. accidentally deleted my blog. had to start from scratch. repost it all. but! I'm here. you're here. we're all here!

Greek mythology is a huge love of mine. I always like to add a small sprinkling into my fics where possible. and now im wiring Ince based wholly of two greek myths: eros and phsyche, and circe. I've read Madeleine Miller's 'Circe'. I fell in love with it, it's genuinely one of the best books ive had the pleasure of reading --hence the fact that this is heavily based off it in terms of 'lore'. Din is the perfect character for these myths to be translated into fic.

So, without further ado, I present to all you lovely people, my mythology!au; ICHOR. BLOOD. WATER. for @inklore and @psychedelic-ink's haunted hoedown. A three part fic with our beloved space cowboy. I really hope you enjoy it as I put a lot of time and thought into this. I love you all, you wonderful Pedro fanatics.

playlist

PART I // ICHOR.

w/c: 2255 | smut, angst

warnings: 18+ MDNI! DARK CONTENT! mythology!au, no use of y/n, reader is referred to as 'Circe' twice in this chapter alone, dubcon, smut, p in v sex (unprotected), reference to past sexual assault (very mild), cussing, mentions of witchcraft, voyeurism, mentions of drinking alcohol, mentions of food and descriptions of eating, choking, breath play, oral sex - f receiving, edging, orgasm denial, toxic relationships, dom!din/sub!reader dynamic, sex as a means for manipulation and control, manipulative!din, stockholm syndrome?

PART II // BLOOD.

w/c: 1692 | smut, angst

warnings: 18+ MDNI! DARK CONTENT! mythology!au, no use of y/n, reader is referred to as 'Circe' twice in this chapter alone, dubcon, smut, p in v sex (unprotected), oral sex - m receiving, choking, toxic relationships, dom!din/sub!reader dynamic, sex as a means for manipulation and control, manipulative!din, stockholm syndrome?

PART III // WATER.

w/c: ? | smut, angst, fluff

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mybworlds · 2 months

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Chapter 1

Pairing: Din Djarin x F!Reader (no use of Y/N)

Summary: This story sets 15 yrs before The Mandalorian events, Din Djarin is hired by Rebel Alliance forces to protect and escort you, the princess of a dead planet, to your new home.

Series warnings: use of you, violence, science fantasy elements, slow burn, angst, fluff, mutual pining, eventual smut (18+ MDNI), trauma.

Masterlist

Before to start: here we are with the first chapter of The Blossom of Arkanon story. I won't give many details of the various characters or places, so you could imagine 'em as you want. I don’t know how many chapters the story will have. English is not my first language, so be patient and merciful.

Thank you for following me in my various stories.

Thanks @idontgetanysleep for the divider

Thanks @vase-of-lilies for the banner

Writing about that episode doesn't help you, in fact it only makes you go through a trauma that will probably never pass, you will never heal, you can live with, but never feel better. It'd be like saying that the loss of your whole family, your friends, your Planet is nothing and that's not possible, it's unacceptable.

"NK - 841," you call it.

You close the book Nanuk gave you to write down your thoughts and memories and put it back in the shelf above your bed, get up and look out the porthole: deep space surrounds you, the stars are all around you. You wonder where you are going, you get up and walk to the cockpit where the other member of your meager crew, the robot NK - 841, is in the pilot's seat and is leading you in an unknown direction to you.

"Yes, Princess?" he says in a metallic voice.

"To a safe place." it only tells you, he doesn't add anything else.

"Where are we going?"

You feel bewildered, uneasy, you go back to Nanuk who is consulting the star maps, he has a beleaguered, almost tense expression, "Nanuk?" you call him "Trouble?"

"No, you're there too!" you point out.

He looks up from the star map on the screen "Princess." he greets you "I wish I could say no, but I might as well just be honest." you nod "You're the only Arkanian still alive." he begins.

You lower your gaze.

He smiles sarcastically "I meant the last of the pure and noble blood of Arkanian civilization."

"What do you know about the New Republic?" he asks, turning fully toward you.

You're confused, you've never heard of this, Nanuk continues, "What about the Galactic Empire?" your expression becomes more and more confused and screwy, you don't know what to answer. You have always been raised as a princess, in the comforts, surrounded by your greatest affections, the pampering of your mother's various handmaids who watched you grow up, you know nothing about politics.

"It's okay, princess." the man continues "Sit next to me." he tells you by making a seat appear next to his on which you sit "Many galactic years ago, the Galactic Empire, an ancient military and political power best known for its dictatorship, sowed death and destruction in every corner of space, to stop their vicious rule, a resistance known as the Rebel Alliance was formed to militarily oppose the Empire and to preserve the ideals of the Galactic Republic. " he explains to you "After the Battle of Endor, the New Republic was formed whose capital is never on the same Planet."

"And why?" you ask puzzled.

"Well, they wanted to prevent one Planet from feeling more powerful than the other," he replies.

"And so... I don't understand what this has to do with me, the Republic, the Empire...I'm a little confused." you admit, clutching the armrests of the chair.

"Relax, child." he says smiling at you "Your father recently left the Planet, you know that, right?" you nod "Do you know why?"

"I heard him telling my mother to trade part of our gems for metals and whatnot," you reply.

"And who was that?" you ask him.

Nanuk smiles, "That's not quite right. I was there and yes there was this barter, but your father met with some of the Rebel Alliance military command, including the head of covert operations."

"Well, I don't know, I know he goes by the name Fulcrum, but that's all I know," he tells you in a sigh "Anyway, your father joined the Alliance and-"

"I don't understand." you interrupt him "We are a peaceful Planet, we didn't need alliances or covert operations." you say starting to gesture.

"The covert operation is called the Arkanan Blossom." he says looking you straight in the eyes making your heart flutter "And that operation involves the arrival of the Blossom on Planet Ajan Kloss where the planet's representative in the Imperial Senate and Superior is located. That's all I know."

"And we are going there?" you ask him feeling very nervous.

"I can't do it alone. I need someone who knows the Galaxy, who knows how to protect you, and I-"

"But you saved me! Who better than you...!" you're about to say.

He smiles, "I have no weapons. This ship has no weapons on board, it's a ship made for the purpose of protecting you Princess, but nothing else." he explains.

"So where are we going? And who are we going to ask for help?"

"We're going to Coruscant and there we're going to ask for a person." he answers you vaguely, going back to looking at the star map on the screen.

Your traveling companion - NK - 841 - keeps you a lot of company at the end it has become almost a friend, or a sort of. Nanuk and the robot are the only ones you trust. Without them you wouldn't know what to do or where to go.

You have never made interplanetary travel, you are not used to it and in fact you are sick. You are constantly throwing up. According to Nanuk it also depends on the change in gravitational pressure from one Planet to another. You travel for what it feels like months, years. Actually yours is an eight-week journey. During these weeks you search the computers for everything you can find about the New Republic, the Rebel Alliance and the Galactic Empire. Your head is bursting. This is another effect of the different gravitational pressure according to the man but, you think, depends on the considerable amount of information you're trying to make your own in a short time.

You wouldn’t trust anyone else.

"Are you sure it's the right place?" you ask him hesitantly.

Coruscant is a very different planet from yours. In fact, when the spacecraft lands, an immense city presents itself to your eyes, which has been building and renewing itself for thousands and thousands of years, according to Nanuk. There is no green area, there are no animals or plants. You look towards Nanuk looking for security in his eyes, it arrives immediately thanks to his reassuring look and his warm smile, then you hear him ask permission to land, permission which is immediately agreed upon. The runway almost seems to collapse on your approach and the spacecraft appears to be almost sucked into a dark gorge. You find yourself nervously shaking Nanuk's hand looking at you tenderly, "It's okay, Princess." he repeats to you over and over until you relax next to him.

Before opening, the man checks that the air is breathable for you too and after having ascertained this, he opens the hatch and, as soon as you set foot on the platform, three spaceships suspended in mid-air immediately surround you from which sapphire-blue beings emerge asking you what business brings you there. Nanuk speaks, while two of these strange creatures watch you and your companion. When the creatures calm down about your presence, they move away from you by boarding the ships and disappear at the speed of light.

"Yes. He's always around here. We are looking for a place where travelers can drink or eat after long journeys, someone will have seen it or maybe he will be the one to show up." he replies encouragingly.

"Can NK – 841 also come with us?" you ask him by turning slightly and noticing that the robot had followed you some distance away.

Nanuk turns, "All right, come NK – 841." then the robot reaches you and immediately stands by your side, you smile even if you know it can't smile back or rejoice.

All three of you climb onto a huge disk surrounded by sheets of ice which then, once inside, close and then climb. You observe in amazement the many buildings that present themselves to your eyes, the multitude of creatures that live and work around you. It's a completely different world than yours.

Once you arrive, the ice sheets open, allowing you to enter an immense corridor with blue and white colours, on the sides there are dozens of doors from which as many dozens of strange-looking and colored creatures enter and exit. All this makes you press against Nanuk almost scared.

"It's okay, child. Nobody wants to hurt you, they're all engaged in trade, see?" the man tells you by pointing to the various funny characters from one side of the corridor to the other, exchanging small or large wooden, metal and other objects crates.

Finally, you arrive in a room with a vaulted ceiling made up of many topaz-colored glass that makes the place of yellow and ocher colors shine. Inside there are some diners, none have a vaguely human appearance. There's only one that reminds you of a human being, or almost. Or maybe you're wrong, I mean, you can't see his face, he's from behind, what's clear is that he's wearing a helmet and a cloak.

"Wait here, sit down." Nanuk tells you "NK – 841 stay with her." he adds and then walks away towards the creature, who knows maybe it's a droid!

You sit and watch the man talk to the thing, you can't hear what they say to each other. You just look worriedly at your robot friend "I hope everything is fine." you whisper, the robot turns towards you, but the only answer it gives you are beep beep sounds and you smile if you think the only company is this robot, Nanuk and probably another robot that now is watching you, it has already done it at least three times and it's making you nervous. Is this a good sign? Why did Nanuk say we need him? For weapons? Do you have one?

You find yourself swallowing.

The android turns back to Nanuk who is talking, you see him. You have no idea what they are saying to each other, could it be that this android is also a trader? If so, what kind of negotiation does Nanuk want to do? Nanuk hasn't told you exactly why you need him, but you are getting impatient and are about to walk toward them, when it's Nanuk who walks back toward you and the android turns his back on you again.

"What's going on?" you ask him worriedly making your gaze linger on the mysterious being.

"It's all right, we'll go with him," he replies.

"Um, wait what about our spacecraft? Why? Who is it?" you are increasingly confused.

"Princess, our spacecraft can't travel for much longer in hyperspace, but his" alludes to the android's spaceship "can," he answers your first question.

"And why should it help us? Who is it to us? Is it one of our allies -- someone who owes a debt to my father…?" you ask still puzzled.

"He…" he's about to answer you, but suddenly a commotion is heard that makes all the diners raise their heads, dust begins to fall from the ceiling "They're already here," Nanuk says "quick," he adds grabbing your hand abruptly and pulling you away.

The diners escape by disappearing behind various doors, you two - followed by your robot friend - enter the same door you entered through, you and Nanuk run, but you don't head for your spacecraft but, once you enter the corridor, you take the first door to the left, you find yourself on an airstrip/takeoff, you seek Nanuk's gaze, who instead pulls out what looks like a weapon "What's that?" you ask frightened "But who are we running from? What's going on, Nanuk?"

Suddenly strange white-armored creatures start firing at you, "Run!" shouts Nanuk as he resumes running and from time to time turns to fire toward those mysterious beings, "Don't stop, run!" he exclaims as he stops.

"NANUK!" you call to him, "What are you doing?"

"Princess, it has been an honor to serve you and your family," he says looking fleetingly into your eyes "I saw you being born and would have liked to have seen you arrive at your destination, NK - 841 from now on you answer only to her." you look at him frightened "Now run, I will hold them off as long as I can. The spaceship is up ahead. Go,"

"But--" you are about to say.

"Go!" he shouts and then turns to face those creatures that are incessantly firing at you, you see nothing else because you turn your head and run, you see green laser beams hitting the earth a short distance from you, dust rising, you run, but you don't know where since you see nothing. The spaceship Nanuk was talking about is not there.

"It won't stop," replies a cavernous voice.

You are almost at the end of your strength when a spaceship appears from above, you stop, breathless. The spaceship with a puff opens the hatch to allow you to enter which you immediately do. You don't know if it's the right one, you don't know if you've done it right, but you get in, indeed both you and NK - 841 get in. When you are inside, the hatch closes and the spaceship leaves, you watch the earth move farther and farther away from you, you see Nanuk over there.

You see him fighting again and again, he's always been a fighter, but now he's alone. Alone against dozens of those white beings, you lean your hands on the porthole and watch, that's all you can do. You almost scream when you see one of those laser beams pierce him, "No, no, no, NANUK!" you scream clapping your hands against the porthole, "How do you stop this thing?" you almost scream looking around and looking for levers or switches, but there is nothing.

When you turn around, you realize you are on the right spaceship with the strange thing on board.

#din djarin #din dijarin x reader #din djarin x you #soft! din djarin #the mandalorian #the mandalorian ff #the mandalorian fanfiction #star wars universe #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin ff #din djarin the mandalorian #science fiction ff #pedro pascal #soft!din djarin #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal as din djarin #pedro fanfic

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dinsmechanic · 5 months

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𝐃.𝐃 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐒

──.★ a kind of demon [ @fettuccin-e ]

⌗ f!reader

⌗ incubus!din djarin

⌗ 1.7k

⌗ 18+, piv, forced sex kind of, din has a demon dick!, fingering

──.★ touch starved [ @bits-and-babs ]

⌗ f!reader

⌗ needy!din, begging!din

⌗ 1.2k

⌗ 18+, oral m-receive, cumming early

──.★ ner mircet'ad ( my slave ) [ @decembermidnight ]

⌗ f!reader, sub!reader

⌗ dom!din

⌗ 4.6k

⌗ kidnapping

⌗ 18+, piv, CNC, oral m-receive, edging ( m&f ), creampie, cumplay, face slapping

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miniimegs-art · 1 year

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Fan art of Din Djarin / The Mandalorian and Grogu, based on Pedro Pascal. I hope you like it 😊😊

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eggdrawsthings · 1 year

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a duet in a galaxy far, far away

#the quote belongs to @/spoiler4you on twitter #sr if it looks a bit shitty #i don't normally paint a scene like this YvY #my art #din djarin #grogu djarin #grogu #i refuse to use the din grogu tag until further notice skjdfs #pedro pascal #clan mudhorn #a clan of two #the mandalorian #the mandalorian spoilers #star wars

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fonmythenmetz · 1 month

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#jedi wear chanel boots #its common knowledge #luke skywalker #din djarin #bo katan kryze #based on that picture of ‘chanel’ boot prints in the sand #the mandalorian #star wars #dinluke #my art

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pedro-pascal · 1 year

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THE MANDALORIAN Chapter 22: Guns for Hire

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anti-heroism · 1 year

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the way pedro has played a cowboy, a space cowboy, an apocalypse cowboy and an old western cowboy

#pedro pascal #agent whiskey #kingsman the golden circle #din djarin #space cowboy #the mandalorian #joel miller #the last of us hbo #apocalypse cowboy #strange way of life #silva #the multiverse of cowboys #I LOVE THEM #theyre all queer

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peterparkersnose · 1 year

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It’s Just Paint

pairing: Din Djarin x reader

word count: 1.2k

warnings: a bad day of parenting, stress, anxiety, arguing, fluff, SAND

a/n grogu’s art is the future mona lisa. shorter piece, i hope you enjoy. I got this idea from a fan art (that I cannot find to save my life) so if you recognize the art, tag me please! I would love to give credit where it belongs :)

summary Din and Y/N struggle with the parenting lifestyle.

masterlist

join the tag list

read time: 4 mins 36 seconds

Home sweet home. If you could call the dingy, falling apart ship home. But home to you were two people; A Mandalorian and a green baby. Sighing, you questioned your life decisions as you began the journey to the ship.

You trudged up the sandy hill Din had parked the crest on, woven bags of groceries hanging from your arms. The calls of the night creatures began to ring, making you walk a bit faster. The suns were setting, and the gorgeous orange sky was very present.

The hatch opened and it was eerily quiet. Grogu wasn’t whining to meet you at the door; Din’s beskar wasn’t clanking around.

“Hellooo?” you sang, your voice echoing down the hallway.

Setting the groceries down on a shelf, you went to see if Din was even home. Maybe a bounty came up unexpectedly. You carefully made your way around a corner when the scent of paint hit you.

Your paint.

“Dank farrik,” you sighed. Grogu had most definitely gotten into your paints you had hidden away. “Din!” you called. No response.

Annoyed, you slammed the button to open your quarters and change out of your sand clothes. The goggles came off, and you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror.

Your hair was a mess- covered in sand to say the least. Your white boots had now a tan configuration to them. The robes hit your floor with a thud. Exchanging them for a comfy pair of joggers and a tee, you walked to your sink and tried to get as much sand out of your hair as you could.

When you shut off the water you heard a bump.

So they are home.

As you squeezed out your hair, you heard a faint coo from Grogu.

You anxiously combed back your hair, eager to see your family for the first time today.

The hatch hissed open and revealed a sight. Din was struggling to keep Grogu still; little red painted toes ran across the steel ground of the crest.

“Need some help?” you asked, leaning your hips against the doorframe. You didn’t need to see his face to know what face he was making.

“It would be nice,” he sighed with a slight sarcastic tone, turning around from the sink.

Your eyes grew wide at the sight. Grogu was covered in red, blue, and mixed purple paint. Green paint was smeared on his fingers and on Din’s gloves.

A burst of laughter erupted from you. “Not funny,” he hissed, holding the nude creature awkwardly in his hands. You weren’t laughing at that; no way you were laughing at the wasted expensive paint.

Din had little works of art all over his beskar. Unsure of what, but Grogu had definitely painted a few murals all over him. What looked like Banthas were sloppily drawn over his chest plate; a surprisingly good night sky with what seemed like were orange stars plagued his helmet.

“What happened?” you asked, a hand supporting you on the wall to make sure you didn’t fall over in laughter.

“Grogu was naughty.” Din said, turning his attention back to the baby and plopping him in the sink. Grogu splashed around and whined.

“You fall asleep?” you asked, joining Din at the sink to help keep Grogu in control. No response.

“You fell asleep.”

“Did not.” he resisted. His body art was just proof he was lying. “You are a horrible liar, Din Djarin.”

“And you are a great painter,” you said, scrubbing Grogu’s tiny hands. “Painted all over daddy while he slept.”

Din audibly sighed over the daddy comment. “What do you mean, painted all over me?” he asked, taking his gloves off in defeat.

“Have you looked in the mirror lately?” you scoffed, grabbing a dry kitchen towel to wrap Grogu in.

Din stepped into the fresher. A small gasp came from behind the mask. You heard the hinges of the mask come off and him set it on the countertop.

“Put him down, will you? I need you to come in here.” he yelled from the fresher. Grogu now sat on the kitchen countertop chewing on some grass seeds draped in a kitchen towel.

You picked Grogu up and set him in his floating bassinet.

You entered the fresher to find Din in a panic. His mood was a shock to you. You didn’t expect him to be so upset about a little paint.

“It’s just some paint. It comes out,” you said, trying to calm him. “I just can’t believe- that little shit. Gods Y/N I just don’t know-”

“Din. It’s just paint.”

Your re assuring words weren’t as effective as you hoped. He still had a horrified look on his face and you understood why.

“My armor…” he said in shock, holding his chest plate now in his hands. “It comes out, right?”

“Just told you it did.” you called from the kitchen, collecting his gloves that were full of paint.

Coming back to the fresher, you were met with a defeated Din. His armor was sprawled out on the floor. He was sitting on the corner of the bathtub with his hands on his head.

A saddened sigh came from you. Meeting him at the side, your hand rested on his back and slowly moved back and forth. He slowly leaned his head into your stomach.

“He doesn’t know any better, you know that.” you said, turning and looking at his armor. “I know,” he said solemnly. “It’s just…”

“Hard.”

Din’s tired eyes met yours. “Didn’t sleep well last night?” you asked him, cupping his left cheek. He pressed into your hand and nodded his head. His scruffy face tickled your hand. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the small parenting moment the two of you were having together.

“Go and lay down. I’ll take care of this. If that’s okay,” you offered. Din nodded as your hand left his face. He trudged into the bedroom. You heard the bed creak as he flopped down on it like he always did when he was tired.

An hour and a half later, it was done. His armor looked almost brand new.

All the hard scrubbing, the pile of used paper towels behind you and the steam from the shower was enough to send you into a coma. You were exhausted. Slowly, you cleaned up the mess you made and layed a towel down next to the bathtub. There you left the beskar to dry, and for Din to do what he wishes with it later.

You peek out in the hallway. Grogu was fast asleep as you expected. A little bit of red paint sat on his ear tip, small enough where you could just flick it off. You gave him a small kiss on the forehead and left to go find Din.

He was wrapped up in the burgundy blanket on your bed. His soft hair was laying flat on the bed, his pillow was clutched between his arms. His mouth was squished against the mattress slightly agape.

A smile rose to your face. “Din,” you whispered, slowly making your hands meet and trying to loosen the pillow from his hands.

“No,” he muttered, pulling it closer to him. “I’m here,” you said. His soft brown eyes opened. “Oh,” he muttered, shoving the pillow aside.

You crawled into the bed slowly, trying not to make so much noise. His arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you close. He let out a satisfied grunt when the two of you were comfortable. You knew he couldn’t sleep properly without you, or without holding something.

“The pillow really was a lousy excuse for you,”

all posts @dani5216 @uwiuwi @alohastyles-x @samanthacookieone @maddieinnit0 @alexxavicry @scoliobean @avengersfan25 @nyotamalfoy

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